Читать книгу Nora's Guy Next Door - Jo McNally - Страница 10

CHAPTER ONE

NORA LOWERY BRADFORD didn’t come close to losing her good Southern manners until the third time someone smacked their grocery cart into hers, nearly toppling a package of fancily frosted cupcakes. She spun on her heel, but the angry words died on her lips. The offender was an elderly lady, even shorter than Nora, pushing a cart loaded to the brim with Thanksgiving fixings.

Bless her heart.

Nora smiled and was about to wish her a happy holiday, but before she could speak, the woman rammed her cart into Nora’s again—on purpose!

“What’re you doin’, sightseeing or something? Move over! Other people got things to do.” With that, the woman pushed on by, scraping her cart along Nora’s to drive home her point.

Nora stood there for a moment with her mouth open, then rolled her eyes and pushed on. With Thanksgiving just two days away, the grocery store in Gallant Lake, New York, was mobbed with people. And the mob was cranky. Maybe she was biased, but people seemed just a bit more genteel back home in Atlanta. Unless, of course, you went grocery shopping on senior discount day—then all bets were off, Southern or not.

The miserable weather wasn’t helping anyone’s attitude. Three inches of snow were on the ground when she arrived in the Catskills yesterday, and she was not happy about it. Oh, sure, the stuff looked like sugar frosting on the rooftops and tree branches, but the air was cold and raw.

The forecast for the week was snow, rain, wind, more rain, then snow again. Her cousin Amanda assured her that was typical for November, which was little comfort. No wonder people were so grumpy here in the North! She’d tried to convince Amanda and her husband, Blake Randall, to fly south for Thanksgiving with their kids, but they owned a large lakeside resort here and couldn’t be gone during a busy tourist weekend. So the family was gathering at their historic castle-turned-home, Halcyon, located right next door to the resort.

Nora unfolded the store flyer she’d picked up at the door, trying to remember where the produce section was. The only good thing about being in Gallant Lake this week was that her favorite person in the whole world, her daughter, Becky, would be arriving later today. Somewhere along the line, Nora had failed as a proper Atlanta mother, because her debutante daughter had inexplicably fallen in love with the Catskills the first time she came here after Amanda and Blake’s wedding. It was disappointing, but not surprising, when Becky hopped the first plane out of Georgia when Vassar offered her a scholarship.

The produce section was even more crowded than the aisles, and Nora slowly worked her way through the veggies, taking in the dramas unfolding around her.

A woman threw a round head of pale lettuce into her cart, glaring at the balding man by her side. “Of course your mother thinks iceberg lettuce is the best. Your mother wouldn’t know a romaine leaf if it bit her in the ass!”

Two men leaned intently over a tomato display nearby. “Derrick, trust me. Vine-ripened tomatoes are better for salad than that monstrosity you picked up.” He gave his partner a wink. “I know you love the word beefsteak, honey, but bigger isn’t always better.”

A young woman pushed a cart past Nora with a toddler in the seat and a little boy and girl in tow, all three complaining loudly. The girl stomped her feet.

“I don’t wanna eat turkey! I wanna eat ice cream!”

“You gotta eat turkey on turkey day, dummy.” Her older brother gave her a shove. “And you can’t have ice cream. You gotta eat pie!”

The littlest one, sitting in the cart, started to scream, “No pie! No pie, Mommy! No pie!”

The mother’s face was pinched and tired. Nora reached out, resting her hand on the woman’s arm. “Don’t worry, darlin’, these days will pass. Enjoy these babies while they’re young. Before you know it, they’ll be off to college like mine.”

She got a tight smile in return. “Right now, it feels like that can’t happen soon enough, but thank you.”

The family moved on and Nora headed for the fruit. Her empty nest in Atlanta was growing more lonely with every week that passed, and she spent far too much time just rambling around the Ansley Park home. She set a bag of oranges in the cart and tried to shake off her melancholy. No more pity party—she and Becky had big plans for the next few years.

Becky always teased Nora about her penchant for planning and list making, but how else did things get done? Becky wouldn’t be laughing once Nora surprised her with the news that they would be spending three weeks in England next summer. Becky had always been a book lover, and finally she would get to visit all the places she’d dreamed of after reading about Narnia and Camelot and Hogwarts.

It hadn’t been easy squirreling away that money, and without a careful plan and lots of lists, Nora never would have been able to make it happen. But she had enough saved now to give Becky her dream trip. Hopefully it would be the first of many mother-daughter adventures they’d share before Becky settled down and started her own family.

Nora gave the lime in her hand a tight squeeze, trying to quell the whispers of doubt in the back of her mind. She and her daughter hadn’t spoken much lately, just a few texts and emails and the very rare call. Becky kept insisting everything was okay—she was just busy with freshman year. Nora dropped the lime into a bag with five others. She couldn’t shake the suspicion that her daughter was hiding something from her.

A deep voice started cursing behind her as she reached for a bag of lemons. She glanced over her shoulder and spotted a tall, lean man in jeans and a faded flannel shirt. His gray-blue eyes were frosty with anger, but she couldn’t tell where it was directed, since he seemed to be alone.

“Damned idiots. They’re nothing but stupid-ass idiots.” He roughly tossed a bag of apples into his cart, making it rattle, causing a few heads to turn. “Stupid, stupid, stupid...” Another bag of fruit landed in his cart with a bang, and he pushed it closer to hers.

She couldn’t see a Bluetooth device in his ear, so he seemed to be having this conversation with himself. Flat out raging at himself, from the sounds of it. His face was sharp and angled, but the dark stubble along his jaw softened those lines just enough to make him strikingly attractive in a rough-hewn way. Layers of dark brown hair brushed his shoulders, and he reminded her of an aging rock star getting ready to smash a guitar somewhere.

Nora gave herself a mental shake. She hadn’t looked twice at anyone since Paul’s death, much less ogled someone in a small-town grocery store. And this bad-tempered stranger was very much not her type. But still, she couldn’t take her eyes off Hot Produce Guy.

“Can’t believe this stupid bullshit!” He reached for a pint of blueberries, and Nora knew the loose netting over the top of the box wouldn’t be enough to hold them if they were handled roughly. Blueberries were going to fly everywhere if he...

The box hit the bottom of his cart and big, fat berries exploded up out of it, rolling in a hundred directions across the tile floor. People started shouting and dancing around. The little girl who’d been screaming for ice cream a few minutes ago was now gleefully jumping up and down, popping blueberries with her feet like she was making wine. A grumbling murmur rolled through the produce section as people tried to figure out where the berries were coming from.

Hot Produce Guy, oblivious to the chaos he’d created, was clearly having a very bad day, and Nora quickly devised a plan to help him. After all, she was a planner. That was what she did. She tossed her store flyer into his cart, covering the incriminating half-empty container. He looked up sharply, but she lifted a finger to her lips before he spoke. He followed her eyes toward the angry mob looking for a culprit and winced when the little girl leaped on a fat rolling berry.

Nora gave him a wink and gestured with her head. He followed her without a word. They didn’t stop their carts until they were safely in the bakery section. When he turned to face her, she had to tip her head back to meet his eyes, but she was used to that. Some days it seemed everyone on the planet was taller than she was.

“So what was the problem with the angry holiday zombies back there?”

That voice. Gravelly, deep and seriously sexy. Forget his looks, it had been that rough voice spitting out swear words a minute ago that made her breath hitch. That was why she’d rescued him. She shook off her rare case of insta-lust and did her best to look unaffected.

“Someone’s blueberries were causing pandemonium. And you seemed to be having a bad enough day without facing a zombie attack right before Thanksgiving.”

His face reddened. “Calling this a bad day is an understatement.”

“The holidays can be tough. Is there anything I can help with?”

He looked at her in surprise, then shook his head. “My son just told me...” He rubbed the back of his neck. “He did something so stupid I can’t even think straight.” He looked up at the ceiling and heaved a sigh, blinking a few times before looking back at her. His blue eyes softened for a moment so brief she thought she might have imagined it.

“How old is your son?”

“Old enough to know better.”

“I have a teenage daughter, so I can relate. Sometimes we just have to let them learn from their own mistakes. Even when it drives us crazy.”

She thought about how furious she’d been when Becky came home a year ago with that dreadful tattoo on her forearm after spending the summer in Gallant Lake. Nora had nearly had a stroke right there in the airport. It was just a tiny heart-shaped padlock, but still. A tattoo! On her daughter’s perfect alabaster skin! What would people think if they saw it? What if it affected her career? And why a padlock of all things?

“Yeah, well, that sentiment might look nice on a greeting card, but here in the real world that’s not how it works.” The vulnerability was definitely gone from his eyes now. He was angry. With her. “It’s my job to make sure my kids are...” He stuttered and took a breath. “I mean, my kid. I have to make him understand what needs to be done. Whether he likes it or not.”

He gripped the cart so tightly his knuckles were white. Nora prided herself on being able to solve problems, but she was out of her depth dealing with rage this intense. It was time to extricate herself from this conversation with a complete stranger.

“Well...I...I should be going.” She couldn’t help making one last attempt to cheer him up. Becky always called her Little Suzy Sunshine. Nora was never sure if it was a compliment or not. “You know, someday you and your son will look back at this and laugh.” He started to disagree, but she held up her hand. “Our children will always be our children, no matter how old they get.”

“Really? More greeting-card platitudes? I hope you didn’t raise your daughter to believe all that ‘the sun will come out tomorrow’ nonsense. News flash—some children aren’t always our children. Sometimes they...” His mouth was set in a hard line. “Never mind. I don’t know why I’m still standing here talking to you.”

People didn’t usually get under her skin so easily, but this guy had Nora’s temper up in mere minutes. “I’m pretty sure you were going to thank me for helping you.”

He stared at her long enough to make her skin warm.

“I know your type. You’re a fixer. You could have minded your own business and everything would have been just fine. But you’re one of those that can’t help butting in. Well, now you can butt out. I sure as hell don’t need your sugar-coated advice today.”

He gave his cart a hard shove, sending more blueberries bouncing out of the container in his wake. Nora’s hand fluttered up to rest over her heart as he left. She tried never to curse, even to herself, but there was no other way to say it—Hot Produce Guy was an asshole. She glanced around in guilt, as if someone might have heard her unkind thoughts. Then she regrouped. Becky would be in Gallant Lake tonight. And they were going to have another talk about removing that horrid tattoo.

* * *

THREE HOURS LATER, Nora was stomping down the sidewalks of Gallant Lake. Alone. While she’d been shopping and dealing with Grumpy Hot Produce Guy, plans had changed. Becky wouldn’t be arriving until Thanksgiving Day now, instead of tonight. And she’d informed Nora by text. This day was not going at all the way she’d planned it.

Amanda finally chased her out of the house. “Your pacing and muttering is driving me crazy, Nora. Take my car and go into the village so you can do your pacing where I can’t see you. Have you ever been to Caffeine Cathy’s Coffee Café? Go check it out and keep yourself busy.”

Nora came to a halt in front of the ugliest building in the village. Painted in garish orange, pink and blue, Caffeine Cathy’s was a sharp contrast to the more conservatively decorated shops along Main Street. The harsh colors were out of place in postcard-pretty Gallant Lake. As if confirming her thoughts, she noticed a large For Sale by Owner sign in the window. The café might be ugly, but the aroma was heavenly, and there seemed to be steady traffic in and out the door.

The interior of the coffee shop was just as eclectic as the exterior. Wide, unfinished planks covered the floor, and the walls were original red brick, covered with artwork for sale. Mismatched tables and chairs, painted in a kaleidoscope of colors, were scattered around the long, narrow space. The counter was across the back, and Nora joined the line of customers.

One painting caught her eye as she waited. It was a beautiful image of a tall galleon sailing calm waters at night, with stars twinkling above. But the ship was heading straight for a high waterfall that led to a waiting sea monster wrapped in flames. Disaster loomed, and no one on that ship had a clue. What an odd thing to paint. Why didn’t the ship have a lookout? How could the serene sea be leading to such a violent end? She turned away, feeling uncomfortable and knowing that was probably exactly what the artist intended.

“Come on, Helen, this place is a joke.” An older couple was standing behind her. The man ignored his wife’s shushing, and if anything, he got even louder. His accent said New Jersey. “We could have gone to Ma’s for Thanksgiving, but no, you insisted we come to this godforsaken place in the boondocks. And they call this a coffee shop? I’d give my left arm for a Dunkin’ right now.”

“Herbie, be quiet!” Helen, wrapped in an aging fur coat that had seen better days, smacked her husband’s ribs hard enough to make Nora wince. “The grandkids woulda’ been bored outta’ their minds at your mother’s. The resort has an indoor pool, and the ski slopes at Hunter are open this weekend, which is the only reason Joey and Mary agreed to come here with their families. So shut up and enjoy yourself.”

Trying to save poor Herbie from any more spousal abuse, Nora chimed in. “You’re staying at the Gallant Lake Resort? I know the owners, and I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful weekend there with your family. But if you get restless, there’s a casino a little over an hour from here.” That news made Herbie smile, but not Helen.

“Don’t you even think about going to a casino, Herbert Comisky!” The large woman rounded on Nora. “Thanks a lot. Now we’ll be fighting over that damn casino business all weekend long.”

Nora stepped back, mumbling an apology. She was definitely losing her Suzy Sunshine mojo. What else could go wrong today?

“Hiya, honey, what can I get you?” Nora looked at the tall, willowy woman behind the chipped and coffee-stained counter. Her salt-and-pepper hair was pulled back into a thick braid that hung down her back, and she was wearing a shapeless tie-dyed dress that swept the floor. Literally. The hem was filthy from where it had removed dust and dirt from the old boards. But her dark brown eyes were kind and friendly, and Nora returned her smile, trying not to stare at the woman’s yellowing teeth.

“I’ll have a cappuccino with a shot of hazelnut, please.” She looked at the dusty glass case sitting on top of the counter. “And I’ll take that last scone, too.”

“You got it, honey. Give me just a minute.”

Herbie spoke up again behind Nora. “Gawd, give me strength. That must be Caffeine Cathy herself. Did you see those teeth? She either drinks fifty cups of coffee a day or smokes five packs of cigarettes. And that outfit. She’s a freakin’ hippy...”

Nora moved toward the register, determined not to let poor Cathy think she was with the obnoxious couple. A large poster was framed prominently on the wall behind the register.

Life is about the journey, not the destination.

Two thoughts ran through her mind at the same time. One was that it was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard. What was the point of a journey without a destination in mind? And the second thought was that this was exactly the kind of “greeting-card sentiment” Hot Produce Guy had accused her of that morning. She rolled her eyes at the memory, then saw Cathy dropping her scone on the floor. The woman shrugged when their eyes met, then she laughed as she quickly retrieved the scone and dropped it into a bag.

“Three-second rule, right? That’ll be four-fifty.”

The amount of grime on these floors wouldn’t qualify for a one-second rule, much less three. Nora opened her mouth to protest and heard Herbie snickering behind her. It wasn’t worth making a scene over, especially with those two as an audience. She’d just toss the scone and get back to Amanda’s before anything else could go wrong. She set a five-dollar bill on the counter. Apparently Herbie didn’t think she was moving fast enough, and he gave her arm a nudge. It was the arm that held the coffee she was raising to her lips. The coffee that didn’t have a tight lid. The lid that splattered coffee down the front of Nora’s light pink jacket.

“You should be more careful, dear.” Helen was biting back laughter, and it took all of Nora’s strength to head to the door without responding. Random swear words were threatening to break free in her head, but she shoved them back in the corner where they belonged. Get back to Halcyon and hide for the rest of the day. That was the only plan that made sense at this point. Until she stepped outside.

Never a champion at parallel parking, she knew she’d been lucky to find a double spot open near the shop that she could drive straight into. Except it wasn’t a double spot anymore. There was a truck parked behind the car and an enormous Cadillac sedan wedged into the space in front of it, leaving her about five inches to maneuver onto the street. Perfect.

She did her best, going back and forth, back and forth, back and forth between the Cadillac, the truck and the sidewalk. Finally those curse words broke free in her head, and she was mentally pulling a Hot Produce Guy routine, silently swearing up a blue streak. But she carefully kept the words to herself, even when her bumper nudged the Caddy just enough to set off the blaring car alarm.

And who came running out of Caffeine Cathy’s? None other than Herbie and Helen, both yelling and waving their arms. She dropped her forehead to the steering wheel, closed her eyes tightly and tried to summon all of her Southern breeding. She always said there wasn’t a problem that couldn’t be solved with a smile and a plan.

She just happened to be running low on both at the moment.