Читать книгу His Mistletoe Family - Ruth Logan Herne - Страница 11

Chapter Two

“Boss? You’re good?”

Brett nodded toward Steve Huber and Ramir Martinez, his two college-aged employees who got him through a crazy busy Black Friday at the Crossroads Mini-Mart. “Yes. See you guys tomorrow. And thank you.” He met each young man’s look with a smile of appreciation as he cleaned the narrow delicatessen area. “I don’t know what I would have done without you today.”

Steve grinned and Ramir offered a thumbs-up as they left. The young men came through in a pinch when Charlie and LuAnn’s daughter decided to give birth mid-morning. And with the new shopping enterprise recently opened across the street?

The Crossroads had set record sales figures today. And that was nothing to take lightly in tough economic times.

Brett had pretty much decided he hated the idea of destination shopping when the fancy merchants’ co-operative began stringing twinkle lights ad nauseam two weeks ago. But when their Black Friday business spilled over to his dolled-up convenience store directly across the two-lane road leading to I-86, he realized he might owe the developer an apology. And a thank you. Except for being a little short on workers, it had been an amazing day. And he’d felt good about being out here. Manning the store. Making special-order fast food along the deli wall.

He’d do a repeat performance tomorrow because Les Simmons, Charlie’s brother and their regular weekend fill-in guy, had become Allegany County’s first recorded case of influenza, so he’d be unavailable to help this weekend. With Charlie, LuAnn and Les all in absentia, Brett would be hands-on for a couple of days at least.

Charlie and LuAnn Simmons were friends, employees and pseudo-parents, the kind of folks who made things better by just being themselves. Seeking solitude in his bungalow home behind the store, he’d watched the sales numbers rise over the summer. That was to be expected as travelers and tourists tooled down I-86.

But now?

He directed his gaze to the newly-created enterprise perched on the southwest corner. White twinkle lights blinked along the roofline of the former furniture factory’s extended front facade, lighting antique-style cedar shingles with cozy brightness. Small trees winked in similar style, lining a parking lot that had been filled with cars until a short while ago. Customers had buzzed in and out all day, shopping nonstop. And some of those cars needed gas. Other shoppers needed food. Which meant the Crossroads did well.

The door opened. Brett turned.

Haley stood framed in the doorway, flanked by the two little boys, and if their expressions set the evening’s tone, she had a long night in store. Tyler looked mutinous and the littler guy... Todd, he remembered...clutched the same scruffy, black stuffed cat that had been a mainstay at dinner yesterday.

“It’s you.”

She looked startled to see him, and maybe pleased? Brett hadn’t been out of the game that long. Had he? “It’s me.”

“Where are Charlie and LuAnn? And Steve? Or Ramir?” She answered her own question before Brett could jump in. “Jess must have had her baby! How wonderful. Oh, tell me, is it a boy or a girl?”

Her face transformed as she talked about the baby. While babies were all right, he preferred children of the walking/talking sort, the ones who could interact and occasionally amuse themselves. Like the two little guys before him. “It’s a girl. Shelby Rose is her name....”

“Love it!” Haley beamed. Points of ivory made her eyes gleam, as if she’d stood in the “get sparkle here” line twice. The shine made the night less dark and damp, the persistent November rains less bothersome. She moved forward, smiling. “So they’re helping with Michaela?”

“Yes. I guess she’s excited to have a baby sister.”

“Wonderful.” Her smile said she approved, but then she dropped her attention to the boys at her side. “So, boys, what kind of sandwich would you like?”

“Nuggets.”

“Me, too.”

Haley’s face reflected their predictability and her dismay. “The Crossroads doesn’t have—”

Brett negated her argument with a hand up. “Watch me.” He came around the counter, crossed the store, opened the wall freezer and withdrew a small, white box and hoisted it. “Nuggets.”

Her look of relief made him feel ten feet tall and he tried not to notice that the forest-green peacoat layered over well-fitted blue jeans and heeled boots made her New York chic in small-town, USA. He decided there was something really good to be said about big-city looks. He directed his gaze down to the boys. “You guys want fries to go with that?”

“Yes!”

“Yes, please.”

Brett bestowed a look of appreciation to Tyler. “You’ve got good manners, son. That’s something to be proud of.”

The boy’s expression lightened. Brett felt a pull on his heart again. Whatever their story was, these boys had run the gamut, and at a young age. Not fair. Not fair at all, Brett decided as he dropped the nuggets and fries into the fryer baskets. He turned and faced Haley, trying not to think of how her tumble of long, blond curls set off the coat to perfection. He’d have to be asleep or dead not to have noticed them, and he was neither. “And how about you?”

She shook her head quickly. Too quick, Brett decided, then remembered her back-and-forth with LuAnn yesterday. She was short on funds.

He wasn’t.

He leaned over the counter, braced his hands and held her gaze. “I know you’ve got leftovers at home. I’m going to bet that these two refused to eat them for Rory Madigan today.”

Two guilty looks peeked up from below.

“And I’m going to surmise that you’ve worked all day and by the time you get the boys home, fed and into bed it will be nearly nine o’clock. So, consider this an order, not a question—what can I make you, Haley?”

The use of her name softened her jaw. She met his gaze, faltered, then caved. “May I have a chicken salad panini, please?”

He’d just cleaned the panini press, but yes, he’d make the sandwich for her and clean it again. Without grumbling. “Sure.”

“With grapes?”

Did he hear her right? He started to turn when she added, “And chopped walnuts? Please?”

Fruit and nuts in chicken salad? On his panini grill?

“Charlie makes it for me all the time,” she went on, and Brett decided right then and there that Charlie might have some explaining to do with the cost of fruit and nuts crazy high this year. He reached for the loaf of Italian bread, but she caught his arm and sent sweet pings of attraction on an upward journey. “Oh, I’m sorry, Charlie always does my chicken salad on the rosemary focaccia bread, but you wouldn’t have any way of knowing that, would you?”

He wouldn’t because he’d spent the last two years keeping to himself, hiding in plain sight. His fault, he knew.

But he still meant to have a word or two with Charlie.

Haley darted quick glances to the pricing side of the lunch-board menu above him as he checked the nuggets and slid her sandwich into the press, prayed and locked the cover. The fryer bell signaled completion. He drained the fries and nuggets, piled them into two separate to-go containers, added dipping sauce, a pack of M&M’s and a juice box.

Haley’s eyes went round. She tripped over her words. “Um, we have drinks at home. The nuggets alone are fine, really. I, um...”

He ignored her protests, opened the panini press and smiled. No big mess, and the sandwich looked great. He flipped it onto the counter, cut it in half with a very manly carving knife, then slipped the grilled sandwich into a foam box for her, with a side of chips, her own miniature bag of M&M’s and an empty cup for a drink.

“Oh, I—”

He handed the cup to Tyler. “Can you help Aunt Haley get a drink, please?” He turned his attention back to Haley. “I’m guessing she wants a Diet Coke.”

She looked trapped and torn, but she followed Tyler to the soda bar, helped him hold the cup while she filled it, then let him assist again while they put a lid on it. She bent low and met Tyler’s eye. “Can you carry this for me, please?”

He nodded, looking less combative and more self-confident. “Yes, ma’am.”

Military manners, thought Brett. Polite. With good eye contact. Pretty impressive for a five-year-old.

Haley straightened, grabbed out a wallet and started fishing for a card. Brett raised his hands, holding her off. “No charge on that tonight, ma’am.”

She stopped. Stared. Then shook her head and extended the card anyway.

Brett stepped back, steadfast. “No charge.”

“But—”

“Just my way of welcoming the two newest citizens of Allegany County into the area.”

“But what will Charlie say?”

Brett didn’t choke. Obviously she thought Charlie and LuAnn owned the Crossroads. And her assumption was understandable because he’d kept to himself. When he wasn’t helping his mother. Or working with the fire department.

The store was his post-army investment property. The mom-and-pop mini-store had transformed into a lucrative enterprise as Allegany County’s economic woes diminished. Their recovery might be sluggish mid-winter, but the rest of the year? An upswing in business fed the cash register with a steady rise in income.

And after living on service pay minus careful investments for twenty-five years, Brett saw nothing wrong with a raise in salary.

He’d hired others to handle the store from the beginning, but being here today? Seeing the people, handling the orders, running the register for long hours? His hands-on involvement made him feel like he was part of something again. Between the Thanksgiving dinner yesterday and today’s crazy-paced business, he’d felt fully involved in life for the first time in, well... too long. And he liked the feeling. “I’ll fix it with Charlie.”

She opened her mouth to argue and he fought the urge to silence her with two broad fingers against those sweet lips, just to see if she felt as good as she looked. Something told him she would. Common sense and decorum held him back. “It’s fine. I promise.”

Her heartfelt smile said she caved and the quick sheen of tears meant he’d touched a raw spot. “Go.” He pointed toward the door. “Head home. Eat. Sleep. Tomorrow will be better.” He dropped his gaze and winked at the two little camouflage-clad boys. “I promise.”

“You have kids, Mr....?”

“Brett,” he told her. He came around the counter and swung the door wide for them. “And no, I don’t.” The old stab of pain hit him mid-section, but without the usual gut-punch force. “Not married.” He added that just in case she wondered. Maybe hoping she wondered. “But I was one, so I’ve got a pretty good take on things. Food. Play. More food. Bed.”

“Thank you, Brett.”

His heart stuttered as a seed of contentment nudged its way in. The way she said his name, kind of slow. Soft. The look of gratitude she sent him, that maybe said something more unless his skills had rusted from disuse.

“Come on, fellas. Let’s get you home.” She set the food on the passenger-side front seat, piled the boys into the car with greater ease than she’d displayed yesterday, and watched as Tyler tucked her cup into the cup holder. “Good job.”

Her approval evoked the boy’s smile, still tentative, but there.

Baby steps, Brett decided. He knew that regimen, all right.

He watched her pull away, then stared with surprise when she angled the car left, then right and pulled into the far right lot alongside the cooperative. A light blinked on in the back of the original furniture store. Then another.

She lived in the recently approved apartment behind the old furniture store. How had he missed that?

Then another thought occurred, bringing back her conversation yesterday, her concern, the money issues, the time constraints.

He let his gaze wander Bennington Station, the new “Street of Shops”-type shopping experience enjoying a grand opening month to beat the band. Realization struck hard and deep.

She was Haley Jennings, Frederick Bennington’s granddaughter, the mastermind behind the burgeoning enterprise spearheading new business opportunities and success in this corner of Allegany County.

And he was slated to do her fire safety inspection Monday morning.

The lights blinked, mocking him, as if daring him to find something wrong on Monday. Like she needed anything else on her plate right now.

But as interim inspector, the job was his while Bud Schmidt recovered from cancer surgery, and until then...

Haley Jennings would have to contend with him. He could only pray none of her merchants or subcontractors had messed up, but Brett knew the score. In the height of holiday shopping frenzy, everyone tried to use as much space as possible to promote themselves and their products. Improperly wired lighting displays, blocked exits, windows that wouldn’t open with the rain or snow...

All things that could spell disaster. People hurt. Lives lost. Too often a little caution could have provided a totally different outcome.

He ground his jaw and wondered how he’d missed her presence all these months, but the reality of that bit hard.

He’d been hiding, plain and simple. And the time for seclusion was over.