Made for mistletoe, p.5
Made for Mistletoe, page 5
Cam grinned. Mac does love a touch of drama.
“First visit is on the house, plus it’s Christmas, as you can see by the way Carly has hosed down my diner with garland and lights.” He tossed Cam an over-the-glasses glance. “Not free for you, though, only her.”
Cam chuckled. “I assumed.” He was pleased to see Harper’s lips curve up in the closest thing to a smile he’d ever seen from her. “I notice you lost the aluminum tree and color wheel battle again this year.” He tilted his head toward the beautiful green Christmas tree in the corner by the door.
Mac scowled and started to speak, but then turned back to Harper. “So, fettucine?”
“That sounds delicious.” Harper’s smile grew, sending a sparkle to her forest-green eyes, transforming her whole visage.
He’d thought she was pretty the first time he saw her at the quilt store. Now that she was smiling, she was spectacular. An unfamiliar—no, not unfamiliar, just a long-forgotten wisp of yearning floated through him, and for a moment, he was reminded of how he’d felt when he first saw Scarlett. The sensation baffled him, and he simply stared for a moment, until a tap on his shoulder made him blink. “Huh?”
Mac gave him an odd, raised-brow look. “Your order?”
Heat rose from Cam’s collar. “Um … the lasagna, please.” He furrowed his own brow at Mac’s knowing gaze and gave a slight shake of his head. Last thing he needed was Mac or the town inventing a romantic relationship between him and Harper Gaines. Best way he knew of to send her fleeing back to the sanctuary of her aunts’ shop. She was here with a portfolio of drawings that he was dying to see. His attraction to the beautiful and sad widow sitting across from him was intriguing and disconcerting, but he wasn’t about to act on it. Not yet, anyway.
Harper watched Mac stride across the diner, vault the gate at the end of the counter seating in one easy long-legged leap, and head back to his kitchen. Cam envied the older man’s easy cool and wished he had some of it. As it was, his knee was jiggling under the table and sweat beaded on his back despite the cool air in the diner. He wasn’t normally nervous around women, but Harper Gaines affected him in a way he’d never experienced before, and he felt foolish and tongue-tied. Cam hated the feeling; he was used to easy banter and falling into a flirty exchange with women. Harper invited none of that.
He was curious and wanted to know her, but his instincts were telling him to go slow. So he grinned and turned to the one topic he was comfortable with until their food arrived. “You said in your text that you had something to show me?” He lifted his chin toward the portfolio.
He couldn’t wait to see her drawings.
*
Harper took a deep breath. “I’ve been playing around with the Pennsylvania Dutch designs you showed me.” She handed him a sheaf of about eight drawings—colored pencil on sixty-pound sketchbook paper. Although she’d considered it, she hadn’t used the watercolors. The colored pencils provided richer and more vibrant colors, which the designs wanted, and the smoother core of her quality pencils allowed her to blend and layer more easily. “Is this what you’re thinking of?”
Wordlessly, he sifted through them, stopping to spend at least a minute with each one while she fidgeted with her napkin-wrapped utensils, unwrapping and rewrapping them. He gave no hint beyond the widening of his gray eyes as he perused her drawings. At last, he stacked them, touching the edges carefully, almost reverently, but he didn’t hand them back. “These are perfect.” He grinned. “Exactly what I’ve pictured on the dower chest.”
She released the breath she’d been holding. “Great. They’re yours. I’m sure Jazz at the arts center can find someone to paint them on the chest for you.”
His brow furrowed. “No, no. I don’t want someone else. I want you.”
“But I’ve never painted furniture before.” She leaned back as a tall bespectacled server whose name tag read Sue set delicious-looking green salads in front of each of them and a basket of heavenly smelling garlic bread between them.
Sue scanned the table. “I see he managed to get your food order in, but totally spaced beverages. Can I bring you some water or iced tea?”
Harper picked up her fork. “Water sounds great, thank you.”
Cam nodded in agreement.
“Be back with your dinners shortly.” The server left, stopping by to check on a couple of other tables on her way to the kitchen. The atmosphere was cozy, friendly, and relaxed, although Harper unquestionably felt like the new kid in town as she’d watched Cam work the room on his way to their table. Everyone seemed to know everyone else, but to her surprise, she didn’t feel out of place—merely curious. It was good to see Aunt Dot enjoying herself with Noah, whose kind and jovial nature had already captured Harper’s heart. They’d stopped by to say hello and invite her to join them when they’d arrived, but she’d excused herself since she was meeting Cameron. She didn’t know the folks they were sitting with, but their baby was cute.
Cam held out the breadbasket, offering her first choice before he dug into his salad. “I’ve never worked with buttermilk paint before either, and as I told you, I’m no artist, but we can learn together.”
She started to object, but decided to wait. For the first time in ages, she was truly hungry and the salad was perfect—crisp and fresh. The bread was warm and buttery with exactly the right amount of garlic. Harper ate two pieces and had nearly finished her salad by the time Sue returned with a steaming tray.
Harper really couldn’t believe how hungry she was because her appetite had disappeared when Drew came home in a box. He’d been a foodie and loved to cook. She’d always been the kind of person who ate only for fuel, but Drew’s love of good food and wine had shown her how enjoyable a great meal could be. After he died, she’d lost her desire for food, believing nothing would ever taste good again. But Mac’s Riverside Diner was proving her wrong.
Sue set a plate in front of her and another in front of Cam. “Hot plates, be careful.”
“Oh, my gosh, this looks amazing.” Harper took a deep inhale of the mushroom fettuccine. “It smells amazing!”
Sue winked. “Get ready, because it tastes even better than that. Enjoy.”
Scooping up a forkful of fettucine, she twirled it as best she could, but finally gave up and slurped in the noodles. She closed her eyes in ecstasy as the incredible flavors of mushrooms, cheese, herbs, and butter burst on her taste buds. Without taking her eyes off the plate, she twirled another bite and another. She finally glanced up and realized Cameron hadn’t started eating yet. Instead, he was watching her, a strange little satisfied expression on his face.
“What?” She swiped at her lips with her napkin. “Do I have something on my face?”
He chuckled. “Nope. Just enjoying your reaction to your first time at the Riverside.” With that, he unwrapped his silverware and dug into his lasagna.
They ate in near silence, exchanging only a few words about the food between bites, and for the first time in two years, Harper ate everything placed in front of her. From the salad with the vinaigrette dressing to the garlic bread—most especially the fettucine, which so delighted her, she had to resist licking the plate.
Mac ambled over to their table as she was reaching for the last slice of garlic bread. “Is that gonna make you too full for dessert?”
Harper considered. “I dunno. I really love this bread. What do you have for dessert?”
Mac crossed his arms over his chest. “M’lady makes an amazing peach and almond crostata that we serve with vanilla bean gelato and we’ve got torta setteveli—basically seven layers of chocolate cake and hazelnut mousse that will satisfy any chocolate hunger for at least a week.”
She was intrigued. “M’lady?”
“He means me.” Suddenly a woman appeared from behind Mac.
She was one of the most beautiful women Harper had ever seen. Around fifty, small, fine-boned, and porcelain-skinned, her auburn hair was caught up in a messy bun and her generous mouth curved up in a smile that Harper warmed to immediately.
“Hi, I’m Carly Hayes.”
Harper extended her hand. “Harper Gaines.”
Carly’s handshake was firm, and she said the words Harper had come to expect, “So glad to finally meet you. Your aunt Dot over there”—she tipped her head back toward the center of the restaurant—“talks about you all the time. She and Mary are so happy to have you here.”
Somehow, Carly Hayes’s kind expression invited familiarity, and Harper found herself opening up. “They’re wonderful, aren’t they? I really haven’t been around them much since I was a teenager, but when I appeared on their doorstep, they took me in like a stray kitten.”
“They are the best,” Carly agreed. “If you’re a fan of chocolate, I recommend the torta. It was my first attempt at the recipe, but it turned out pretty good if I do say so myself.”
“Okay. I love chocolate.” Harper dropped the slice of bread she was still holding and Cam nabbed it before it hit the basket.
“I’ll eat that,” he said, grinning the I knew it grin he’d worn all through dinner. “And I’d like to try the peach thing.”
After Carly and Mac left, Cameron pointed to the stack of drawings that she’d set on the wide windowsill next to their table. “Say you’ll try this with me. I think we can do it.” He practically bubbled over with enthusiasm, but Harper just wasn’t sure she was up for him. He almost vibrated with energy.
Harper took a sip of water, set her elbow on the table, and rested her chin in it. “I’ve got to find a job, Cameron, and a place to live.”
“I intend to pay you.”
“Well, I’d expect you to, but it won’t be enough to support me. I applied for a job as a teaching assistant at the Growing Tree nursery school, and if I get it, I’ll be busy there,” she fudged—she hadn’t actually finished the application yet, but she meant to.
“I work for Walker Construction during the day, but I do my own thing after work and on weekends,” Cam said and popped the last bite of bread into his mouth. “You could do the same.”
“I have to hunt for a place to live on weekends.” It was feeble, but it was also true. She needed to find her own place where she could leave her art projects wherever she wanted instead of having to clear off the kitchen table every evening. Drawing the designs had been pleasurable—for the first time in months, she’d actually had fun. But painting them on Cameron’s dower chest was altogether different.
“I’ll help you find an apartment.” Cam’s zeal was contagious, and she could feel herself weakening. A glimmer of interest was getting brighter at the thought of trying to concoct buttermilk paint and transferring her designs to the chest.
Carly Hayes appeared with their decadent desserts and Harper salivated. Cam’s peach crostini looked as delicious as her chocolate torta. “Did I hear you mention you’re looking for an apartment?” Carly asked. “Does that mean you’re going to stay in River’s Edge?”
Harper plucked a chocolate curl from the top of the slice of torta and ate it, savoring the rich taste. “I don’t want to go back to Michigan—too many mem—” She snapped her mouth closed. What was it about this woman that made her blurt out whatever was in her mind? “I mean, I think I’d like to stay for a while anyway, and I do need my own place.” She nabbed another chocolate curl. “Do you know of one?”
Carly smiled. “I do.” She reached behind her, pulled a napkin from the holder on the table, removed a pen from her apron pocket, and scribbled on the napkin. “Can you meet me at this address tomorrow morning at ten?”
Harper accepted the scrap and nodded. “Sure.” Once again, Harper wondered at how strongly she was drawn to the older woman.
“Great, see you then. Enjoy your desserts.” Carly was gone, and Cam was chuckling as he slid his fork into the crostini.
“What are you laughing at?”
“Don’t even try to resist the magic of River’s Edge, Harper Gaines.” He shoved a big bite of peaches and pastry into his mouth, his gray eyes silvery with merriment.
“Don’t think that magic includes you, mister.” Harper took a bite of torta and the experience was sheer bliss. “I still don’t know how to paint furniture.”
He merely quirked a brow. “Like I said, we can learn together.” Before she could say another word, he held out his fork. “Try this. It’s … beyond words.”
He’s offering me food from his own fork? That was way more familiarity than Harper was comfortable with. In fact, this whole evening had become more than the casual business meeting Harper had intended. She’d come into the diner expecting to hand Cam the drawings, maybe have a cup of coffee, and leave. But the comfortable ambiance of the diner, the incredible food, the friendly laughter and chatter of the other customers, and Mac, Carly, and Cameron had all conspired to lower her defenses.
By the time dessert arrived, she’d discovered she was actually having fun, and that realization brought a wave of guilt and sorrow. She was having fun. Dear Lord. Drew was dead, and she was having a good time with the handsome man sitting across from her. Her logical mind told her that enjoying a dinner with Cameron Walker was a good thing; she was making a friend. But her heart squeezed in her chest. Suddenly, tears pressed against her eyelids.
Harper hesitated long enough that Cam finally scraped the bite onto her plate before hovering his fork over her dessert. “That looks great. May I?” His manner seemed stiff.
She turned the plate around and pushed it toward him. “Go ahead. I’m full.” She set the drawings on the table and grabbed her leather portfolio. “Here you go. I’m sure you’ll find someone to paint the chest for you.” Then she pulled some bills out of her jacket pocket, laid them on the table, slid out of the booth, and fled.
Chapter Six
Cam blinked. What just happened? Turning in his seat he saw the door closing behind Harper. He caught Dot Higgins’s eye, but she merely raised her brows, clearly as puzzled as he was.
The crowd had gone unusually quiet, so when Noah spoke, his voice carried all the way to the back of the diner. “He should go after her, right?”
Dot shushed him, but he half-stood and pointed to Cam. “Go after her, son.”
“You should,” Judge Harry Evans agreed from a couple of tables over. “Go catch her.”
Several other diners murmured in assent and Sue, who’d come over with the water pitcher, nodded and gestured with a shake of her thumb. “Go. I’ll keep your table open.”
Cam pushed out of the booth, shrugging into his jacket as he exited to the sound of clinking silverware and hushed conversation. In the dim evening light of early December, he saw her standing less than a hundred feet away staring at the display in the big window of Clyde Schwimmer’s Antiques & Uniques. Arms wrapped around her waist, she was swaying ever so slightly as he drew closer.
Her eyes were closed, and her lips were moving. “Sorry … sorry … oh, Drew, I’m so sorry,” she crooned as he approached, the rubber soles of his running shoes barely making a whisper on the sidewalk.
He reached out a hand to touch her, then dropped it. “Harper?”
She started and whirled around, her eyes huge. “Why are you following me?”
“I was worried about you.” He peered down into her tear-stained face. “What … what happened? Did I say something to upset you? Whatever it was, I didn’t mean to.”
“Not you,” Harper choked out and plopped down on the old bench that Clyde had placed under his lighted window and decorated with red and green ribbons, pine boughs, and holly. She swiped at her cheeks with her palms. “It’s not you.”
Cam sat down beside her, carefully bracing his feet because he didn’t want their combined weight to tip the wooden bench. It held. “What is it then?” He gave her an encouraging smile. “Because your mousse cake is melting back there.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
He wondered if she needed a hug, a friend to soothe whatever it was that was causing her such distress that she’d fled the diner in tears. But he didn’t touch her; he didn’t have the right to do that, and the last thing he wanted to do was frighten her. “Don’t be. Do you want to talk about it? I’ve been told I’m a pretty good listener.”
She took a shuddering breath. “Sometimes I think I might be going crazy.”
“We’ve all had that thought.” Cam chuckled, then caught himself. “I mean we’ve all had that thought about ourselves, not about you.”
The shadow of a smile appeared through her tears. “I knew what you meant.”
“Why do you think that today?”
“I talk to my dead husband.”
“Okay.”
“Out loud.”
“I heard … just now.” Cam was flying by the seat of his pants here. He had no idea what the appropriate thing to say was, and he was terrified of saying the wrong thing. “Maybe that’s not unusual when you’ve lost someone you love.”
“He’s always in my head.” Harper’s words were so soft he had to lean down to hear them.
“Is that what happened back there?” He lifted his chin toward the diner. “You thought of your husband?”
“I was happy, enjoying myself with you and the food, and excited about the possibility of an apartment and—” She closed her lips in a tight grim line.
“Okay.” Cam furrowed his brow, trying to understand. What was wrong with being happy and enjoying herself?
“How is that fair? He’ll never taste Mac’s delicious mushroom fettucine or Carly’s torta or see the river at sunset or celebrate another Christmas or—” She stopped again, sighing. “I know all the right words you’re gonna say. Drew would want me to live my life. He wouldn’t want me to be sad forever. He’d want me to be happy, to move on. But how do I know that? What if he doesn’t? What if he’s … he’s just right here, watching? Listening? Hating me?” She pointed out in front of her, and God help him, Cam looked.
