Trinity Falls (2 page)

CHAPTER 2

A little more than an hour later, Megan opened Books & Bakery, her combination bookstore and café, for business. As soon as the doors opened, two of her regular customers strolled in.

“Morning, ladies.” Darius Knight greeted Megan and Doreen. The local newspaper reporter slipped onto his usual chair at the bakery counter.

“Good morning, Megan, Ms. Doreen.” Dr. Quincy Spates followed Darius to the counter. The Trinity Falls University history professor took the seat beside his childhood friend.

Megan studied the two men on the other side of the counter. They'd been friends with Ean since birth or at least as long as she'd been alive. Tall, fit, intelligent and attractive, they were brothers in every way but by blood.

Darius's midnight eyes gleamed with excitement. “Have you heard the news?”

Doreen served both men a mug of coffee. “If you're talking about Ean coming home, of course, I have. I'm his mother. And I've already told Megan. When did you two find out?”

Darius added cream and way too much sugar to his coffee. “Ean e-mailed us late last night.” He inclined his head toward Quincy.

Quincy swallowed half his cup of coffee. “What do you make of his coming home?”

Megan frowned. Had he also e-mailed Ramona? What was her cousin's reaction to Ean's plans?

Doreen laid a china dish bearing a sizable square of Trinity Falls Fudge Walnut Brownie in front of Quincy. “I think the people of this good town should fear having the three of you together again.”

“It's been fourteen years. I'd like to think we've matured.” Darius reached toward Quincy's plate.

Quincy paused with his cup near his lips. “Touch my brownie and you'll pull back a stump.”

“Yes, very mature.” Doreen shook her head.

Darius dropped his hand. “What do you think, Megan?”

She thought fourteen years should have been enough time to get over her crush. Then why did her heart race every time she heard Ean's name?

Megan brought Darius his own Trinity Falls Fudge Walnut Brownie. “I think you three can be trusted to stay out of trouble this time around.”

“It may not be the
three
of us, though. It may only be
two.
” Darius took a big bite of the brownie.

“What do you mean?” Megan looked to Quincy. Her eyes grew wide. “Did you apply for the faculty position with the University of Pennsylvania?”

Quincy used his fork to cut a corner of the brownie. “Yes, but I'm sure they'll have a huge pool of candidates for the position.”

Megan grinned. “You'll make the final round.”

Quincy shrugged broad shoulders covered in a lightweight black sweater. “I won't know anything until the fall. I may not even get a phone interview.”

Megan reached out to squeeze Quincy's forearm. “They'd be foolish not to hire you.”

Quincy ran a hand over his clean-shaven brown head. “It's a big decision, Megan. I'm not sure I'll take it.”

Darius snorted. “You've been pining after teaching at your alma mater since you got your doctorate.”

Quincy arched a brow. “No, I haven't.”

“You make my ears bleed.” Darius gestured with his brownie. “Your whole family moved to Florida years ago. What's keeping you here?”

Megan blinked at the challenge in Darius's question. Quincy visited his family in Florida several times a year. But something—someone?—always brought him home to Trinity Falls. Was Darius challenging Quincy to admit that?

“Did you like the university?” Doreen's question ended the awkward silence.

Quincy sliced another piece of his pastry. “It's a great institution. The faculty and staff are committed to the students.”

“Does the position pay more?” Darius stuffed the last of the brownie into his mouth.

Quincy shot him a wry look. “Yes.”

“Then take the job. What's the problem?” The reporter drained his coffee.

“Megan's right. They would be lucky to have you.” Doreen refilled both men's mugs. “It's just too bad that you'll be leaving just as Ean's finally coming home.”

Quincy dropped his dark gaze to the plate of his half-eaten pastry. Megan studied his still, silent posture. He hadn't said much about Ean's imminent return.

Megan turned her attention to Darius. “I read your article about the town council's plan to find a high-end real estate broker to buy the town center.”

Darius smoothed the tight curls of his dark hair. “They're still working out the details, so I can't add anything that's not already in my article.”

Megan poured herself some coffee. Steam from the drink blew across her face. “Did they at least tell you whether the current center businesses' rental agreements will be renewed?”

“No.” Darius's response was succinct and tinged with regret. It added to Megan's tension.

“High-end stores in Trinity Falls?” Doreen collected Darius's empty plate. “Ramona knows the town's culture won't support exclusive labels and fashions. What is she thinking?”

“She wants to bring the big-city lifestyle to our little town.” Megan's voice was tight with frustration. She carried her coffee to the counter and added cream and sweetener. “I should have realized this would happen as soon as the original center owners defaulted on the town's loan.”

Her older cousin's reasons for not staying in New York when Ean had asked her to marry him were still a mystery. It was now compounded by the puzzle of her goal to bring a piece of Fifth Avenue to their sleepy little town.

“How were you supposed to know?” Darius drained his second mug of coffee. “I wonder how Ean's return will affect Ramona's plans to gentrify Trinity Falls.”

Quincy stood abruptly. He put several bills on the counter. “Keep the change, Ms. Doreen.”

Doreen looked as startled as Megan felt. “Thank you, Quincy. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

“You do the same.” Quincy waved over his shoulder as he strode to the door.

Doreen stared after Quincy. “What was that about?”

Megan remained silent, but something told her Ean's return wouldn't affect only
her
unrequited crush.

 

 

Ean jogged down the deserted, quiet street of his hometown early Monday morning. He'd arrived in Trinity Falls late Sunday night, with only enough time to fall into his childhood bed to sleep. He drew a deep breath of the chilly mid-October air as he approached his parents' home—now his mother's house.

The buildings and lamps winding through the neighborhood displayed banners heralding next year's Trinity Falls Sesquicentennial, the 150th birthday of his hometown. They read:
150 YEARS STRONG.
He'd already caught the community's excitement. Was the sole heir of the town's founding family also excited? Last he'd heard, Jackson Sansbury had withdrawn from the town.

It had been a stressful six weeks since he'd announced his resignation at the end of August. Now with the scent of autumn washing over him, Ean's tension drained from his muscles. Coming home had been the right thing to do. He'd had some trouble sleeping last night. But that had been because of the crickets, not because of his caseload.

He smiled, listening to the birds rehearsing their harmony as they perched high on the trees along his street. He took another deep breath, enjoying the clean, crisp air as the sun slowly rose, turning the sky a pale gray.

“Welcome home, Ean.” The disembodied voice drew him from his thoughts.

Ean looked up as he approached his neighbor's oversized, stately house, across the street from his family's home. He hadn't noticed the tiny old woman standing in the threshold of her front door. She was wrapped in a thick green sweater two sizes too large for her.

Ean stopped at the end of her paved walkway, looking up at her. “Good morning, Ms. Helen. Thanks for the welcome.”

Helen Gaston, or “Ms. Helen,” as the residents of Trinity Falls called her, had been ancient the day Ean was born. Since then, time had stood still for her.

“Come on in.” She waved him up with a slim right arm. “Get out of the cold. I'll get you a glass of water.”

How could he refuse?

Ean glanced at Ms. Helen's sesquicentennial banner as he climbed the five redbrick steps and crossed the spacious porch. He toed off his running shoes beside her front door so he wouldn't track mud from his run into his neighbor's home.

Ms. Helen stepped backward, pulling the front door wider as she moved. “I'm glad to see New York didn't leech out the good manners your parents instilled in you.”

“No, ma'am, it didn't.” Ean crossed into her foyer in his stocking feet. He watched Ms. Helen disappear into her kitchen.

A deep breath drew in the scent of apple potpourri. The room was inviting, with honey wood flooring and bright yellow walls. Ean wandered closer to what appeared to be original framed watercolor paintings of the view outside Ms. Helen's home. Very nice.

Heavy pale brocade curtains were drawn open over the row of windows to his left, allowing the gray morning light inside. A reclining chair was stationed in front of the windows, apparently to assist in neighborhood surveillance. In warmer weather, that chair would stand on her balcony. Ean's gaze dropped to the current issue of the women's magazine resting on the seat. Ms. Helen's nephew bought her a subscription to the monthly journal every Christmas. Did she still accuse the postal carrier of reading it before he delivered it to her?

His hostess returned from the kitchen with a tall glass of ice water. “You went running this morning in the dark.”

A glance at the chair answered how his vigilant neighbor had known that. Ever since he was a child, Ms. Helen seemed to know everything that occurred in Trinity Falls, sometimes before it happened.

Ean swallowed a gulp of water. “It was dark when I started running, but the sun came up pretty quickly.”

“Did you notice the streetlamps along the jogging path in the park?”

An image of the lamps, each waving a
150 YEARS STRONG
flag, flashed across his memory. “Yes, they're new.”

“Not that new.” Ms. Helen nodded toward his house across the street. “Adding the streetlamps was your mother's idea. Did you know that?”

Ean's brows rose in surprise. “No, ma'am. I didn't know that.”

Ms. Helen nodded for emphasis. “Yes, indeed. That was Doreen's idea, although Mayor Ramona McCloud takes the credit.”

Ramona was mayor. His former high-school girlfriend had e-mailed him after she'd been elected three years ago. What had made her become political?

“It doesn't surprise me that my mother recommended the town council add lamps to the path. She's been active in supporting improvements for Trinity Falls all my life.”

“Longer than that.” Ms. Helen nodded again. “You know she's jogging now.”

Another bit of news he hadn't been aware of. “No, ma'am, she hasn't mentioned that.”

“She started jogging with Megan McCloud when your father got ill. Said exercise helped clear her mind. I'd sit with your father in the mornings, until after your mother came home and cleaned herself up.”

Ean felt sick.
He
should have been the one watching over his father, waiting until his mother returned from her run. “Thank you for helping my parents.”

“I was happy to do it.” Ms. Helen waved a thin, wrinkled hand dismissively. She glanced out the window toward his house again. “Young man, it's good that you're home. Trinity Falls needs the shake-up.”

“I'm not here to shake things up.”

Ms. Helen clucked her tongue. “That doesn't matter. It'll happen, anyway. Some people are shuffling around here like they're afraid to make a move. But you're not afraid, and you know how to make things happen, just like on the football field. People used to call you ‘Fearless Fever.' I'm looking forward to the fireworks.”

“There won't be any fireworks, ma'am. I'm not here to change anything.”

“Then why did you come home, Ean Fever?”

Ean crossed his arms. His stomach was still queasy over the fact he'd been hundreds of miles away when his parents had needed him. “I came home to take care of my mother.”

Ms. Helen's expression softened. “You're a good son, Ean. And I'm sure your mother appreciates the sentiment.”

“Thank you, Ms. Helen.”

She continued as though Ean hadn't spoken. “But Doreen Fever is one woman who doesn't need anyone to take care of her.”

Ean smiled as he waited for Ms. Helen to stop laughing over her own words. “I want to be here if she needs me.”

“Trinity Falls hasn't changed much since you've been gone, a couple of new shops, a new restaurant, streetlamps in the park. But people change. That's a good thing. People shouldn't stay the same. It means they're not learning. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

She gestured toward him with her fragile hands. “Like you. When you were younger, it was always, ‘Hi, Ms. Helen. Bye, Ms. Helen.' You were always on the go. And I'd call after you, ‘Don't spend all your time on the field. Hit those books.'”

Ms. Helen's gaze returned to the window. Why did she keep looking at his home?

“I remember.”

“But now that you're older, you know you need to slow down. That's why you're here, standing in my foyer, taking time to talk with me.”

Ean was irritated with his teenage self. He'd been too wrapped up in what he wanted to spend a few minutes with a charming and interesting old lady. “You're right, Ms. Helen. And spending time with you is definitely a change for the better.”