Wind Chime Café (A Wind Chime Novel) (21 page)

“We can go,” Annie said slowly, “but we’ll only stay for a little while. I still have a lot to do tonight.”

Taylor grinned, unwinding herself from Della’s arm and darting out of the kitchen to grab her sweater.

Della and Annie stood in the small kitchen for several long moments, watching each other. Annie finally broke the silence. “I don’t want you getting the wrong idea about Will and me.” She held up the cookies. “Or trying to play matchmaker.”

“Taylor made him a present,” Della said quietly.

“It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Doesn’t it?”

“No.” Annie caught the tiny flicker of hope in the other woman’s eyes, remembering what Della had said last week, that the only way Will would ever get over the loss of his mother and sister was by starting a family of his own.

She couldn’t possibly think that Annie and Taylor…?

No, Annie thought. That was crazy.

She wasn’t the kind of woman men turned their lives upside down for. She wasn’t the kind of woman men put down roots with. She was the kind of woman men left, the kind of woman men dated briefly and forgot about just as fast.

At the sound of Taylor’s footsteps on the stairs, she turned and walked out to the dining room. “Ready?”

Taylor nodded.

Annie followed her out to the porch and down the steps to where her car was parked on the street. They drove down the long flat road leading to the inn, taking in the late afternoon sunlight slanting over the marshes. Taylor chatted away happily, stealing a cookie from the tin whenever she thought Annie wasn’t looking.

By the time they pulled into Will’s driveway, the butterfly had crumbs all over it, and a new worry had sprouted wings inside her. What if Will had company? What if he had asked someone else over to watch the sunset? What if she and Taylor were interrupting?

Her hand hovered over the gearshift. She should have called first, at least to tell him that they were coming.

A dog barked and Riley bounded around the side of the house to greet them. Taylor opened her door and the yellow lab jumped inside and gave her a big sloppy kiss. Taylor squealed when Riley grabbed her broom and darted away with it. She scrambled out of the car, her paper butterfly flopping behind her as she raced after the dog.

There was nothing Annie could do but turn off the car and follow her. Climbing out of the driver’s seat with the cookies, she heard music playing from a muffled stereo in the back yard. She followed the sound around the side of the house to where a rusted ladder led up to the roof and rotted shingles were scattered over the lawn.

She glanced up, catching the expression on Will’s face as he watched Taylor chase Riley across the yard. He was smiling and his eyes were filled with warmth. The relief that he didn’t already have company, that he was actually glad to see Taylor, was replaced instantly by a deeper emotion as he stood and made his way across the roof.

He’d taken his shirt off, and when he swung down to the ladder, the sleek muscles of his back and shoulders gleamed in the fading sunlight. A pair of ripped jeans hung low across his narrow hips, and she could see the outline of his hard thighs through the worn denim.

A muted clang rang through the air as his work boots tapped the metal rungs of the ladder. He jumped easily down to the ground and then turned, spotting her. All Annie could do was stare as a rush of heat shot straight through her.

He started toward her and she lifted the tin, desperate to put something physical between them. “Della sent cookies.”

Will’s lips curved. “Cookies?”

She nodded, gripping the metal tin as sparks threatened to shoot from her fingertips.

He paused when he was standing directly in front of her, when he was close enough that she could smell the salt and soap on his skin. “What kind?”

“Peanut butter.”

“My favorite,” he murmured.

Annie’s knees almost gave out when his hands covered hers so they were both holding the tin instead of taking it from her. “Taylor might have eaten half of them on the way over.”

He laughed, a deep rich sound that rolled all they way through her. “Is that why you came here? To bring me cookies?”

Annie shook her head. “Taylor has something for you. She made you something.”

“She made me something?”

Annie nodded.

He held her gaze for a long moment, and she caught the shift deep in his eyes, the silent question that swam into them. Slowly easing the tin from her hands, every brush of his calloused fingers sending jolts of electricity crackling through her, he turned. “Taylor,” he called, his deep voice echoing over the yard to where she was playing tug-of-war with Riley for her broom.

Taylor finally managed to snatch the broom back from Riley. Lifting it up over her head, she ran across the yard with the dog on her heels. By the time she got to them, she was out of breath, her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were shining with pure joy.

Will smiled down at her. “Your mom said you made me something.”

Taylor lifted the paper butterfly. “It’s a monarch.”

Will gazed down at the butterfly. The wind snatched at the orange paper, causing the wings to flutter and flap. “You made this?”

Taylor nodded, suddenly shy. “So you won’t miss them when they’re gone.”

Will knelt slowly, taking the butterfly from Taylor. It looked so small, so fragile in his big hands. “Thank you,” he said when they were eye-to-eye. “I’ll treasure it.”

Taylor took a tentative step forward, lifting her arms and wrapping them around his neck.

No, Annie thought helplessly. Taylor wasn’t supposed to hug him. She was supposed to give him the butterfly and run away to play with Riley again.

But she wasn’t running away. And now Will was hugging her back.

Annie’s throat felt tight. Her daughter hadn’t come here to see Riley. She’d come here to see Will.

Will pulled back, standing. “I know just the place for it,” he said, taking Taylor’s hand and leading her toward the house.

“Wait,” Annie said.

Will turned.

“We have to go.”

“What?” Taylor asked.

“You just got here,” Will protested.

“And now we’re leaving,” Annie said, struggling to keep the emotion out of her voice. If she cut off their friendship now, it wouldn’t hurt as much later. “Say goodbye to Riley, Taylor.”

“But we need to help Will hang the butterfly,” Taylor said, refusing to let go of his hand.

“Annie?” Will asked, his expression confused.

“I have a lot to do tonight,” she said simply. “I told Taylor this would only be a short visit.”

“We’ll be quick, mom. I promise,” Taylor said. “We just need to help him hang the butterfly.”

Annie fought back the urge to grab Taylor and race back to the car before this went any further.

“If you’re that busy,” Will said, keeping his tone light, “why don’t you head back to the café and I’ll bring Taylor over in a little while.”

That was the last thing she wanted.

“Mom,” Taylor said, “don’t you want to see inside the house?”

No, Annie thought. She didn’t want to see inside the house. She didn’t want to know what it looked like. She didn’t want another reason to feel closer to this man.

But she didn’t want to leave Taylor alone with him either.

Taking a deep breath, she looked up at Will. “We’ll come in to hang the butterfly and then we’re leaving.”

He smiled. Turning, he led Taylor across the yard and up the rotted porch steps, pointing out where to place her feet so she wouldn’t fall through. Dodging the loose floorboards, he opened the door and guided Taylor inside, holding it open for Annie.

Annie crossed the threshold, and the feeling of home swept over her so fast it stole her breath. A big, family-style kitchen opened up to a cheerfully cluttered living area filled with two oversized couches, cozy armchairs, and a wide brick fireplace. Built-in floor-to-ceiling shelves held paperbacks, board games, and videos.

There were pictures everywhere—pictures of the Dozier family, of guests eating dinner on the patio in the summer, of men holding up enormous rockfish on the dock, of Will in his dress uniform decorated with medals.

Releasing Taylor’s hand, Will walked over to a casual wooden dining table nestled into a breakfast nook. Lifting the butterfly, he looped the strand of yarn around an antique country chandelier that hung from the ceiling.

“What do you think?” he asked, stepping back.

Taylor climbed up on the chair beside him, readjusting the yarn so that the wings were even. “It’s perfect,” she said, beaming.

The sun sank lower on the horizon, painting their profiles in a soft orange glow. Taylor’s gaze shifted to a string of sparkly bottle caps dangling from one of the arms of the chandelier.

She reached up, touching one of the bottle caps. “Who made this?”

“My sister.”

“She makes wind chimes, too?”

“She used to,” Will said. “She passed away a long time ago.”

Taylor watched the bottle caps spin. “Do you miss her?”

“I do.”

“I miss my friends,” Taylor said quietly.

Annie started toward her. She didn’t want Taylor bringing Will into this. She didn’t want her turning to him to seek any kind of comfort.

It was way past time for them to go.

She reached up to take Taylor’s hand and lead her down from the stool, but Will’s hand closed over hers first. She opened her mouth to protest, but he drew her back gently to stand beside him.

“Sometimes,” he said to Taylor, “we have to say goodbye to people we’re not ready to say goodbye to. But we can still remember them. We can still think about how they used to make us laugh or smile, how we used to feel when they were around. After a while, the memories get easier and new people come into our lives.” He threaded his fingers through Annie’s. “Usually, when we least expect it.”

Taylor looked back at the string of bottle caps and her paper butterfly swinging from the arms of the chandelier. “I made a new friend last night.”

“You did?” Will asked. “Who?”

“Jess Casper.”

“Casper?” Will glanced down at Annie. “John and Ellen Casper’s daughter? The one who lives next door to Della?”

Annie nodded. Della had taken Taylor over to visit with Jess the night before, after they’d finished trick-or-treating and Annie and Will had gone back to the café to talk.

“Jess is a year younger than me,” Taylor continued, “but she’s really nice. Her mom and dad just got her a puppy. She said I could come over and play with him whenever I wanted.”

“What about Riley?” Will asked, poking her in the side playfully.

Taylor giggled. “Riley’s still my favorite.”

“Good.” Will dug a handful of dog biscuits from his pocket. “And you’ll be her favorite if you run out and give her these.”

Taylor took the biscuits and grabbed her broom, climbing back down from the chair. Annie watched as she dashed across the porch and down the steps to the yard where Riley was chewing on a new stick.

It was time to say goodbye, Annie thought. She should tell him it was over, that this was the last time they were going to see each other. But when she looked up at him, she couldn’t form the words.

He took her hand, leading her into the kitchen and grabbing them both a beer from the fridge. “How about a tour?”

She hesitated, but he was already nudging her toward the stairs. He led her through the house, showing her every room, telling her funny stories about the guests who had stayed in them. A strange sense of peace settled over her as she thought about all the people who would have come and gone over the years, the steady stream of people who would have filled the rooms when the inn was open for business—laughing, chattering, happy people on vacation, or taking a weekend away from a stressful job in the city.

What would it be like to live in this big house constantly filled with people? To know you were bringing so much joy to everyone who visited?

By the time they walked back downstairs, she couldn’t bear the thought of a resort company sending in a corporate decorating team to strip away the character of this house. They would streamline the colors and furniture to match the latest trends. They would turn this place into something it was never meant to be.

This house belonged here. Just the way it was. And Will belonged here with it.

When she spotted the box of wind chimes on the ottoman in the living room, she let go of his hand and walked over to it, peering down at the strings of seashells, pop tops, and sparkly ribbons. “Are these the chimes your sister made?”

Will nodded. “I brought them down from the attic after I saw what you’d done with the café.”

She looked back at him, where he stood in the doorway watching her. “What are you going to do with them?”

“I don’t know yet.”

Annie reached into the box, lifting out one of the chimes. “Will you take them with you when you leave?”

The words hung between them.