Mrs right zakrzewski ant.., p.5
Mrs. Right (Zakrzewski Anthologies), page 5
Damian Fawkes laughed. “You okay, Clara?”
“Yes.” She stood, brushed the snow off her black pants, and found her white hat.
Damian continued to laugh, and she ignored him. He wasn’t just an ass. He was the leader of the Devil’s Renegades motorcycle club who’d also hurt her best friend Eve. But no good would come from arguing with him after dark in a snowstorm on Main Street.
Clara shook the snow off her hat and decided she didn’t just hate snow. She despised the evil white stuff that ruined nice clothes.
“Hurry.” Uncle Harry held open the café’s door and she ran inside, followed by another freezing gust. “Why aren’t you at home?”
“I just came from Milltown.” Clara dropped her purse onto an empty stool in front of the counter and slipped off her gloves. “I had two meetings with brides who want me to plan their weddings. Wow.” She glanced around the café, surprised to see the tables full of people talking, eating cupcakes, and drinking coffee. “It’s busy tonight.”
Then again, in a town like Kingsmill, there wasn’t much to do at six p.m. on a snowy night other than congregate at the coffee shop or play pool at The Ren.
Harry’s green eyes narrowed, and he went behind the counter. His gray hair seemed spikier than ever, as if he’d been running his fingers through it all day.
When he didn’t respond, she realized what she’d said. Harry had owned the café for over two decades until selling it to Lily Mosby, Clara’s friend who’d recently returned from Paris as a famous pastry chef. After marrying Gage Mosby, the town’s mayor, Lily had made extensive renovations to the coffee shop. Now, when Harry felt like it, he worked for Lily on the busiest days. “I’m sorry, Uncle Harry. I didn’t mean—”
“It’s fine.” He began making her a decaf latte. “Lily has done a great job with this place.”
Clara took off her white coat, sat on a stool, and silently agreed. Where Harry’s coffee shop had served wonderful coffee, scones, and sandwiches, Lily had transformed the space and the menu. Instead of wooden beams, stone fireplaces, and brick walls—so common in Virginia Shenandoah Mountain towns where most of the buildings predated the American Revolution—the room had been painted white with gold trim. The fireplace, also painted white, held a fire behind glass doors. White café tables and chairs had replaced oak benches and trestle tables. New pastry cabinets, lit up from the inside with pink fairy lights, highlighted the French pastries the café now offered.
But sometimes a hungry woman just needed a sandwich. “Do you have any food that’s not sweet?”
Harry placed her latte on the bar. “Let me see what’s in the kitchen. I’ll be right back.” He wiped his hands on the dish towel thrown over his shoulder and disappeared into the kitchen.
While she sipped her hot drink, she checked her phone. She was supposed to meet her daughter Georgie at the café and take her home. Georgie had mentioned she’d be here working on a school project with friends. Clara studied the room again and didn’t see any sixteen-year-olds bunched around tables like she expected.
She texted her daughter and, when there was no immediate answer, placed her phone on the counter. Laughter came from a corner table where Nana Ruthie and her cohort of senior pickleball women drank cappuccinos and told dirty jokes. Near the entrance, a group of older men who usually hung out at the VFW hall down the street, had pushed together four tables and were playing cards while drinking black coffee.
The VFW hall had a leaky roof so the men had temporarily relocated to the café.
And all was well in Kingsmill...
Clara checked her phone again. No response from Georgie and no texts from Jacob. Clara and Jacob had gotten married on Christmas Eve. So, technically, they were still in the texting-all-the-time newlywed stage. Except as a local contractor who specialized in renovating historic buildings, including a new project in Milltown, Jacob had been even busier than she’d been recently. And, as an event planner, she’d been handling a six-figure wedding.
She hated that after returning from their honeymoon, they’d hardly seen each other.
“How’s the new bride doing?” Nana Ruthie, wearing a red puffy vest over black stretch pants, slipped onto the stool next to Clara.
Clara gave the older woman a tight smile. “Great!” Since Nana Ruthie and her cabal were some of the biggest gossips in town, only second to the card-playing men, it was important to exude confidence. “I’m loving this weather.”
She sipped her latte so she wouldn’t give away her own lie.
Nana Ruthie leaned in to whisper. “You look worn out. I hope you’re not making yourself sick. We know you’ve set enormous expectations for yourself and your new event planning company.”
“I do have high expectations.” After all, Clara was a new business owner. “But I’m fine.”
Even as she spoke, she silently admitted that she’d not been sleeping well and, suddenly, felt queasy. Probably because of Nana Ruthie’s sandalwood-scented perfume.
“Maybe you exhausted yourself with that wedding you just finished.”
Clara’s jaw hurt, and she stopped grinding her teeth. “I’m great. Jacob’s great. Georgie’s great.”
“Good.” Nana Ruthie glanced outside where glittering snowflakes assaulted the window. “Where’s Georgie?”
Clara checked her phone again. “Georgie will be here soon.”
“You sure?” Mr. Elmer, one of the men at the card table, asked from across the room.
Mr. Elmer had recently made it to the top of the gossip pyramid, so his comment made her suspicious.
“Yes, Mr. Elmer. I’m sure.” Clara glanced at Nana Ruthie who was staring at the floor. “What’s wrong?”
Nana Ruthie shrugged. “Storm should be settling in for the night. We might get ten inches.”
Before Clara could respond, Harry placed a grilled cheese and ham sandwich in front of Clara. “Eat up.”
“Thank you.” She was grateful for the food, but as she inhaled the smell of melted cheese, her stomach clenched. “May I have some water, please?”
“Of course.” Harry glanced at Nana Ruthie before going to the sink.
“Clara—”
Nana Ruthie paused as Georgie hurried inside carrying her backpack on her shoulder. “It’s so cold!”
Her red, chapped cheeks matched her red knit hat and puffy coat and her brown eyes sparkled from the cold.
“Georgie?” Clara took her daughter’s backpack and dropped it on the floor near the counter. “Where were you?”
“At Betsy’s house doing homework.” Georgie pulled off her hat, and snow flew around the room. She’d braided her long brown hair, but strands stuck to her damp face.
“Aren’t Betsy’s parents out of town?” Mr. Elmer asked as he slammed cards down on the table. “They went to St. Thomas.”
“Not until next week, Elmer.” Nana Ruthie interjected. “Or maybe the week after. I’m too old to remember all of the town’s details.”
Clara shared a smile with Georgie. Zombies would have to take over the world for Nana Ruthie not to remember the town’s news.
Georgie slid onto Clara’s stool and eyed Clara’s sandwich. “I’m starving.”
Clara pushed her sandwich toward Georgie. “Eat this.”
“Ooooh.” George took the hot chocolate Uncle Harry handed her. “Thanks!”
“So, Georgie.” Nana Ruthie’s smile was a sure sign of troublemaking. “How is Billy Lee?”
Clara sent a warning glare at Georgie, reminding her not to engage with Nana Ruthie’s personal questions.
“Uh.” Georgie’s face turned even redder. “Okay.”
Nana Ruthie tilted her head. “So Billy and Tim Lawrence didn’t get into a fight in gym class today?”
“That’s enough, Ruthie,” Harry said sharply.
Clara moved until she stood in between Georgie and Nana Ruthie. In August, Billy Lee and Georgie had been in an ATV accident on a nearby mountain. Billy had gotten a concussion while Georgie had broken her arm. Since Billy had been driving recklessly in the rain, Clara had placed the blame on the sixteen-year-old boy. And everyone in town knew that because everyone in town knew everything. “It’s late. I need to get Georgie home.”
“Alright.” Nana Ruthie shrugged. “I’m just trying to assess things before Valentine’s—”
“Hey, Harry.” Mr. Elmer appeared with his empty mug and glared at Nana Ruthie. “How about more coffee. Freshly brewed, this time.”
Clara glanced at Uncle Harry with a silent question: What is up with everyone tonight?
Harry avoided her gaze and took Mr. Elmer’s mug. “It’ll be a few minutes, Elmer.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Mr. Elmer shoved his hands into the pockets of his overalls. As usual, he wore a red flannel shirt beneath overalls that had been new in the 1960s.
Georgie finished her sandwich and put on her hat. “I’m ready, Mom.”
Clara paid Harry for the food and put on her coat, but it wasn’t until she slung her bag over her shoulder that she realized everyone in the café had gone quiet and were looking at... Georgie.
Before Clara could ask what was going on, Georgie ran out of the café and waited on the sidewalk.
Clara looked at Harry one final time, but he’d disappeared into the kitchen.
After saying her farewells, she met her daughter outside and they hurried to the car. But when she turned on the ignition, the engine clicked and went silent.
“Ugh.” Clara pressed her forehead against the steering wheel, and a wave of nausea hit.
“Mom?” Georgie touched Clara’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
Clara raised her head and found her phone. “We have to walk home.”
Georgie peered through the windshield, as if she could see through the layers of snow. Mosby House, the family home Jacob had been renovating for them, was down the road on a ridge so it hovered over the entire town. “Why?”
“Because,” Clara said as she dialed Jacob’s number that went straight to voicemail. “The car battery is dead.”
Chapter Two
It took Clara and Georgie thirty minutes to walk home in the snow. With frigid hands, Clara unlocked the back door of Mosby House’s mudroom. Once inside, they removed their coats, gloves, and hats, and stomped snow from their boots. Then, just wearing socks, they tiptoed into the kitchen, avoiding the puddles they’d made.
A.W., their black Labrador, waited near his food bowl.
Clara dropped her purse on the table. While the old house was drafty, the kitchen’s radiator pumped out hot air. “Thank goodness the heat is working.”
“I’ll grab our slippers.” Georgie left, and Clara heard stomping on the main staircase.
They’d only recently moved into the house, after Jacob had partially installed a new HVAC system and water heater. There was still tons of work to be done to the rundown Victorian mansion, but she’d tried to make it a comfortable place until she had the time and money to redecorate. A feat that could take the rest of her life considering the house was 8,000 square feet of mostly empty rooms.
The sound of clanking pipes echoed around the large kitchen, and she smiled. It’d been so long since she’d felt at home anywhere, and she was grateful for the wonky heat and intermittent hot water.
Georgie returned wearing panda slippers and handed Clara her fuzzy pink ones.
As Clara slipped her feet into the warmth, Georgie headed for the refrigerator. “What’s for dinner?”
Clara checked the crockpot she’d filled this morning. “You ate my sandwich at the café.”
“Mom.” Georgie slammed the fridge door shut. “That was a pre-dinner snack.”
“Then it’s a good thing I made beef stew.” Clara glanced at Georgie and smiled. “Feed the animals and set the table while I make cornbread. Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes.”
While Georgie fed A.W.—aka Anthony Wayne—and put out food for Poe, her black cat, Clara mixed up cornbread and popped it into the oven.
“Mom, Poe hasn’t been eating her food.”
“She’ll eat if she’s hungry.”
Once A.W. devoured his dinner and settled on his bed near the radiator, Georgie announced, “I set the table so I’m going upstairs to change into pajamas. After dinner, I have tons of homework. And don’t forget, we need to schedule Poe’s vet visit.”
Clara nodded and checked her phone. Still no texts or messages from Jacob. But there was a message from Eve.
Did Georgie tell you about the fight at school today?
“Georgie?”
Georgie paused in the doorway leading into the main part of the house. “Yes?”
“Was there a fight at school today?”
“It’s no big deal.” Georgie’s phone pinged, and she disappeared with a wave.
Clara let her daughter go. If something was wrong, it would come out eventually. And right now she didn’t have the energy to negotiate with a teenager. She checked on the bread and stew before hurrying upstairs to her bedroom. Since the heat in this part of the house didn’t work well, she turned on the portable heater before changing into black yoga pants and a pink sweatshirt.
Poe, Georgie’s black cat, lay in the center of the four poster bed, on top of white blankets, as if she owned the place. Considering she was a stray who’d convinced them to adopt her—including A.W.—she did own the place.
As Clara brushed her hair before putting it into a high ponytail, she noticed the framed wedding photo of her and Jacob on her dressing table.
Tears blurred her vision, and the gratitude filling her heart took her by surprise. After a horrible marriage that ended in her husband’s tragic death, she and Georgie had finally found their own forever home. A home with a strong, handsome man who adored them both. A home with a bedroom that included a functional fireplace, baskets of clean-yet-unfolded laundry, and boxes filled with her sketchbooks for different projects.
Sniffling, she knelt before a box, pulled out a notebook, and flipped through the pages. She wished she could always remember this feeling and not allow her fear of her past repeating itself wear her down.
Since returning from her post-Christmas honeymoon, she’d used this notebook to plan a Valentine’s Day surprise party for her family. She wanted their first official holiday together to be memorable and amazing, and she’d designed every detail down to the pink heart-shaped cake.
She was determined to make this Valentine’s Day perfect to wipe out the memories of her previous horrible ones. It was a lot of pressure to put on a minor holiday, but she was determined to make it amazing and memorable.
“Mom!” Georgie called from her bedroom across the hall. “When is dinner?”
“Soon.” Clara hid her planner in the laundry basket, and Poe jumped off the bed and disappeared into the hallway.
With the condition of the house, Poe had plenty of mice to keep her well-fed, which could explain her random eating.
When Clara came down the staircase into the freezing foyer, which could fit three girl scout troops, she pulled her cell phone out of her sweatshirt pocket and called Eve.
When Eve answered, Clara said, “What happened with the fight today? I couldn’t get anything out of Georgie.”
“I heard this fifth hand, but Kane heard it too so it could be true.”
Kane, Jacob’s brother and Eve’s husband, had recently moved back to Kingsmill after being gone for years. A few weeks ago on Christmas Eve, Kane and Eve had reunited and Clara was thrilled for them. “If this news has hit the fifth circle of the Kingsmill gossip machine, it must be true. Besides, I know something happened because everyone at the café tonight was being weird.”
“Weird how?”
Clara headed into the kitchen while telling Eve about the silent looks before asking, “What do you know?”
“Billy Lee and Tim Lawrence got into a fight at school while playing basketball.”
The oven’s buzzer rang, and Clara pulled the cornbread out and placed it on the table. Then she stirred the stew. The scent of savory meat in a rosemary gravy filled the room, and she breathed through her mouth to settle her gag reflex. She needed to remember not to drink coffee so late at night. “The boys’ fight made the gossip circuit?”
“They were fighting over Georgie.”
Clara replaced the crockpot’s lid. If that was true, it could explain the strange behavior in the café tonight. “Why?”
“Something to do with the town’s Valentine’s Day Bachelor Auction on Saturday night.”
“That was canceled weeks ago.” Needing fresh air, Clara grabbed her coat, walked into the foyer, and went out the front door. She zipped her jacket and stood on the stoop above a steep staircase, which led to a long path that ended at the top of Main Street. From this height, she could see the town covered in white snow interspersed with bright lights. Beyond the white church at the end of the street, snow-capped mountains rose like sentinels, protecting their secluded valley.
The church bells rang, signaling eight p.m.
“I heard that rumor too,” Eve said.
“I’ve no idea why the Ladies’ Guild canceled the event.” Clara inhaled cold air until her lungs hurt. A foot of snow had fallen, and she prayed Jacob would make it home safely. “And it wasn’t a bachelor auction. It was a basket auction, where people make dinner baskets for the others to bid on. Just like last year. And all the years before that.”
Because things never changed in Kingsmill.
The town’s Valentine’s Day party was also an event she hadn’t participated in since her senior year in high school. After graduating, she’d gone to college, gotten pregnant, and married Peter, Georgie’s father. They’d returned to Kingsmill when Georgie was a baby, but Peter had hated the town events and refused to participate. So she’d stopped participating as well.
It was when she’d heard this year’s event was canceled that she’d come up with ideas for her own family’s surprise party. Luckily, she’d done all the prep work before the storm hit.
