Be Sweet (31 page)

Something in the way she says that causes me a moment of panic. I grab her arm. “It's not Officer Millington, is it? Gold or jewels missing from the Tuckers's house, and he's come back with a warrant or something?”

She rolls her eyes. “It's not Toby.”

I relax. “Well, if it's not the police, we're good.” Lifting my glass of tea from the counter, I follow her into the next room. My visitor is standing in the doorway, hiding behind a dozen yellow roses. Once I place my glass on a stand coaster, I look up to greet the person behind the bouquet.

One glance at him, and I decide jail might be the better option.

“There's my best girl.” Peter pulls me close to him and kisses me right in front of God and everybody. Though I try to resist, he doesn't let me go until—

“Guess I should have called first.” Russ's tone is even, controlled. It shakes Peter loose and makes my heart flip.

I take a side step. “Russ, hello.” Without thought, I wipe off Peter's kiss. “Please, come on in.”

He steps inside the house, and I make the introductions.

After a few awkward seconds, Russ says, “Listen, Charley, Peter's come a long way to see you. I'll take a rain check on that dinner.” Before I can respond he looks to Peter. “Nice to meet you,” he says, then turns and walks out the door.

“I'll be right back, Peter.” I rush outside after Russ. “Hey, wait up.”

He doesn't.

By the time I reach his car, he's starting the engine.

“Russ, let me explain.”

“You don't owe me an explanation. What I just witnessed pretty much tells me what I need to know. Sorry, Charley.”

His foot hits the gas, causing dust and gravel to spit from his tires and car fumes to fill the air as he races out of the driveway. What happened to him not giving up so easily? Ignoring the biting chill, I watch him go, wondering what I'm going to do now.

How could I have gotten myself into such a mess? First off, Peter wasn't supposed to show up. We're friends. Period. And flirting with a dentist from another town should be harmless fun, not complicated. This isn't turning out at all the way I wanted.

The screen door slams closed, grabbing my attention.

“What was that all about?” Peter steps up beside me. “Was that my competition?” His eyes sparkle as though he's just won round one.

For the life of me, I can't find my voice. I know it's there somewhere, hiding away in some dark corner of my voice box. It's probably better this way. I'm angry at Peter for showing up unannounced. At the same time, he's traveled a long way, and he did bring yellow roses, after all. I'm angry at myself for allowing Peter to kiss me, and I'm not thrilled that Russ happened to witness it.

Still, for the record, no one owns me. Not Peter. Not Russ.

No one.

“Are you sure you' re all right?” Janni asks when
she slips into my bedroom and sits beside me on the bed.

“I'm fine.”

“And you're okay with going to the coffeehouse? Don't you and Peter have some things to talk out?”

“I'm just not in the mood tonight, Janni. Being with everyone will provide a diversion, and we can just have a good time. I don't want to think about anything.”

“I'm sorry about how things turned out, Char.”

“It's no big deal, really. Besides, you've got enough to worry about without thinking about me.”

Janni doesn't say anything. She simply pats my hand.

“Did you and Daniel get things worked out yet?”

“We're getting there. Everything will be all right, I think. At least I don't have to worry about telling the boys just yet. One thing at a time, right?”

I smile and nod.

“Let's go downstairs,” I say. No sooner do we gather downstairs than someone knocks at the door again.

“Hey, Mom.” Blake greets Janni with open arms, followed by Ethan.

And the hits just keep on comin'.

“What are you boys doing home this weekend?” Janni's voice is just a squeak as she steps out of the way while they clamber inside with their duffle bags.

“We live here, remember?” Blake says. He glances around the room, “Hi.” He nods his head in greeting to everyone.

Janni makes the introductions between the boys, Carol, and Peter.

“We actually had a fairly light week at school, so we thought we'd come back and see if Dad needed more help with the syrup,” Ethan says, tossing a wink at Janni. “Candy couldn't make it.”

It's probably just as well, or we would have had to put her in the attic.

Daniel walks over and gives Ethan a hug, then Blake. “I don't care what anybody else says, you two are all right.” He leans in and whispers, “Just remember, you have to come back in a week for the anniversary party.”

They nod and wink.

“We're heading to the coffeehouse. Want to go?” Janni asks.

The boys don't hesitate. “Sure.”

“Let's see, Carol can join Stephanie in Blake's room, and how about you boys stay in Ethan's room?” Janni says.

“No problem,” Blake says, heaving his duffle bag over his shoulder.

“Yeah, you go ahead and go over. We'll catch up with you after we dump everything,” Ethan adds.

If we keep adding guests, we'll have to provide room keys.

Stephanie steps around the counter and pulls Carol
into a big hug. “Hi, Mom.” They share a couple of whispers, and then Stephanie waves to the boys and the rest of us. Afterward, she dashes behind the counter and whips around making drinks, blotting counter-tops, and shining the cappuccino machines. She's Janni's daughter, all right.

I glance at our little mix—Janni's entire family, complete with long-lost adopted daughter, her mother, and now Peter. If I have any doubt that things are about to turn interesting, it flees with one glance at the couple in the corner.

“Now, Char, don't you jump to conclusions. After all, you're here with someone else,” Janni says, trying to get my attention off Russ and the woman in the corner.

“Who is she?”

“I can't see. It would help if she turned around. Maybe it's a cousin or something.”

“Yeah, right.”

Just then the woman gets up and heads for the ladies' room. When she turns so we can see her, fresh pain waves over me, and I think I'm going to be sick.

“Oh, hello, Char,” the woman says as she walks past.

“Hi, Linda.”

twenty-six

As the woman who stole my husband—and now
my date, apparently—walks away, an old familiar ache threatens to cut off my air supply. I'm thankful that I'm sitting down or I'd probably fall. Nausea rolls in my stomach. “I want to go home, Peter.”

“What? We just got here. Don't you want your macchiato?”

The whir of the cappuccino machine, the hum of voices, the sharp smell of coffee that usually lift my spirits and put me instantly in a good mood, now heighten my nausea. So help me, if Russ has ruined my love for coffee, I will hide his dental floss.

“Well, as soon as they make our coffee, let's leave, okay?”

Peter looks at my face and no doubt sees the tears pooling in my eyes. “Okay, whatever you want.” His gaze travels over to Russ's table and concern flickers in his eyes. “Listen, Charlene,” his hand covers mine, and all I can think of is how his nails look better than mine—minus the polish. “I should have told you a long time ago—”

“Maple macchiato with three shots for Char,” Stephanie calls out.

“Oh, there's my drink. I'll be right back.” I start to get up from my chair.

“You stay put. I'll get it for you.” Peter rises and walks over to the counter.

I don't have any idea what Peter was about to say, but he looks far too serious, and I just can't do serious right now. It takes everything in me not to look back at Russ and Linda's table, but I refuse to put myself through that.

“Okay, shall we go?” Still standing, Peter hands me my drink.

“Thank you.” I scoot my chair back and stand.

“You're not leaving, are you?” Janni asks.

I lean over to her and whisper, “We'll talk later.”

Quickly, we say our good-byes to everyone and head out. The cold air clears my head a little, and my stomach calms slightly.

We climb into Peter's silver Mercedes that smells of clean leather and ocean breeze from a deodorizer hanging under his mirror. The leather protests beneath us—okay, screams—as we settle into our seats. Peter turns to me. “Now what? Back to your sister's house?”

What I really want to do is walk in the woods by myself, but since he's come so far to spend time with me, that would be rude. “Yeah, back to the house, I guess.”

Both of us are quiet on the trip to Janni's house. Once we get there, we grab glasses of iced tea, and Peter leads the way to the sofa in the living room. I want to warn him, but don't feel like explaining it all. We slide into the soft cushions and immediately start sinking. Peter straight-ens the crease in his pants—it makes him wild when the line is curvy—and then he turns to me.

“Charlene, I feel I need to apologize. You've obviously had a difficult evening, and I think my presence here has brought it all on.”

We start out at eye level, but Peter is sinking faster than I am. We're having a serious moment, but I have to swallow hard to keep the giggles from surfacing. Peter doesn't seem to notice, as he is having struggles of his own. His hips are out of view, and he's now three inches shorter than when we first sat down. He pulls himself ramrod straight, trying to appear in control, but we both know the monster sofa is calling the shots. He has no idea how ridiculous he looks trying to act as though everything is fine, while he slips into oblivion.

Frustration replaces the concern on his face. A strand of hair dangles across his forehead, which irritates him to no end. The sharp crease in his pants is waning, his cheeks are red, and he's panting.

As his pretentiousness is magnified tenfold, I have to ask myself what I'm doing dating someone I could never love. It's not fair to him or me.

I feel embarrassed for Peter as he wrestles with the sofa, so I stare at my lap. “Things going well at the office?” I ask, trying to change the subject.

Peter sighs. “Things are fine. Cindy sold the Weatherton house.”

“Boy, I didn't think that one would sell. Good for her.”

He rattles off a couple of other sales—while straightening the pillows around us—but my mind flits back to Russ and Linda. She wins all the way around. Again. Visions of Russ's house drawing surface. No doubt Linda will love the balcony overlooking the lake.

“Listen, I'm tired. I'm going to head over to the hotel.”

“I'd invite you to stay at the house, but we're out of rooms.”

“That's all right. There's enough going on here, and I think you can use some time to think.” He cups my chin in his hand. “I care a lot about you. Now I can see I should have told you that sooner. The question is, am I too late?”

We both know the answer to that question, but I'm just too weary to get into it. I simply stare at him and say nothing.

“Never mind. That was unfair of me to ask tonight. Just give me fair consideration, okay?” He kisses my forehead, brushes something off my shoulder, and grabs his things. “I'll call you in the morning.”

“ You sure you don't mind driving to the beach,
Peter? I mean, it's not exactly summer,” I say with a forced chuckle.

“I'm sure. I'd like to see how a Michigan beach compares to Maine's coastline.”

Straining, I look up at the clouds. “I'm not sure we picked the best day to do this.” A water droplet on the windshield underlines my concerns.

“Oh, well. We have lunch with us,” he says, pointing over his shoulder to the well-filled picnic basket in the backseat. “We can sit in the car if need be.” He flashes a smile, but it soon gives way to someone else's. Russ. I can't get him out of my mind. But I have to. Linda obviously has her sights set on him. I'd fight for him, but I already lost to her once. Why get knocked down again?

“A penny for your thoughts.”

Another droplet of water, followed by more. Soon the sound of wipers sloshing the rain from the windshield fills the car.

“I hope they get the sap collected before it pours.”

“It was nice of them to let you off today,” Peter says.

“They've had so many friends from church helping that they haven't needed me all that much.”

“I thought maybe you could show me around town while I'm here, see if we can find a place for the Scottenses to build their store,” Peter says, pulling the car into the empty beach parking lot.

So that's the real reason he came to Tappery. Peter never does any-thing without keeping his business in mind. I should have known.

“Don't you trust me to find something?”

“Sure, I do. It just seemed the perfect excuse to come and see you.”

“Uh-huh.” I haul myself out of the car and glance at the sky. It looks as though things are going to get worse before they get better. Just like my life. Hopefully, things will get better, though I don't see how. I'll soon head back to my miserable existence in Maine.

What made me think that? Miserable existence? Hello? My whole plan was to come here, help with Mom and Dad's anniversary, grab my stash of syrup, and hightail it back to Maine, I mean
home
.

“Earth to Charlene? You still with me?”

“What? Er, uh, yeah. I'm sorry, Peter.” The weather sure doesn't help with my gloomy mood. “Hey, you want to run in the rain?” I say, in hopes to shake off my gloom. Strains of Neil Sedaka's “Laughter in the Rain” run through my mind.

He looks at me as though I'm crazy. What was I thinking? He'd never mess up his hair.