Beauty and the Brit (9 page)

“I’m not one of its own, though.”

“That’ll change, I promise.”

“Oh my gosh!”

Her cry and gasp nearly made him swerve. He stared at her and then toward the “Welcome to Kennison Falls” sign, and he did swerve. Straight onto the shoulder and to a stop. In front of the sign stood a very large vehicle shaped like a giant hot dog.

“What the devil?” He laughed.

“Wonder Weenies,” Rio read off its side, and for the first time in his experience, her sapphire eyes flooded with mirth. “Seriously? This is the home of the Giant Wonder Weenie?”

“Never seen it before in my life.” David stared at the bright monstrosity. “There’s a sign on it.”

“‘Weenie Feed Fund-raiser for the Kennison Falls Library Association,’” Rio read. “‘August twenty-first and twenty-second. Sponsored by The Loon Feather and Bert’s IGA.’ Friends of yours?” Her wide, sweet lips parted into an enchanting bow.

David swallowed. So many of their conversations had taken place under such dark circumstances; he’d never studied how appealing her lips were when they moved. How their plump fullness fit perfectly on her slightly cherubic face.

“The Loon Feather is a town institution—a great restaurant and meeting place. Bert’s is where to go and complain about politics or the weather while you’re picking up your groceries. I’d reckoned to bring you both places.”

“I’d definitely ask to go to the Weenie Feed if it was sooner than August twenty-first. Now, that’s a meal worth leaving the big city for.”

So, she could joke about her situation—given the proper circumstances. He tucked the knowledge away and put his foot back on the accelerator.

“It’s only two weeks from now. Maybe we can get you to the Weenie Feed.”

“I certainly hope not,” she said, her smile leaving her eyes and freezing in place as the momentary cheeriness dissipated.

T
HEY ROLLED ALONG
Main Street, and Rio knew David watched her, assessing her reactions. His gaze sent relaxing, almost physical, starbursts of tingles across her skin—a sensation she could definitely get addicted to—and she took in the appealing downtown under the narcotic haze of pleasure. She didn’t want to like what she saw, but the small town ambience was so different from the harshness pervading the streets of her city neighborhood. Here charm bloomed like the flowers in the storefront window boxes, and a dozen or more businesses had adopted blue-and-white striped awnings that gave the whole main street a coordinated sweetness.

She read the business signs: “Dewey’s Gas ’n’ Garage,” “Joey’s Barber Shop,” “The Curly Cue Salon,” “Mamie’s Attic,” “The Bread Basket.”

“How the heck do you pronounce
that?
” She pointed at a white sign hanging from a post before a street front law office. The names
VOSEJPKE
and
HORESJI
looked like letters tacked against the wood by a three-year-old.

David chuckled. “I feel for you. There’s a lot of Czech heritage along with the Scandinavian. Give ’em a try.” He slowed enough so she could look closely.

“Vo-sej—” She shook her head. “I haven’t got a clue.”

“
Vo-sayp-kah
and
Ho-rish.
”

“I just decided I could never live here.” She allowed herself a quick laugh that relaxed something inside. How could she hold on to pure anger in a town with a Wiener Mobile and words containing consonants that should never get near one another?

“There’s the police station.” David pointed out a small brick building.

“Is there much crime here?” Rio asked.

“I expect there’s crime everywhere,” he replied. “But in a town of nine hundred, everyone knows most everyone else. There are four officers, two just part-time, and I think they deal mostly with thefts, vandalism, curfew violations, underage drinking. But in the ten years I’ve lived here, there hasn’t been a murder in town, and our gangs consist of factions of kids from the different small towns that feed into the same bigger school district.”

“No wonder the chief took an instant dislike to me. I’m the worm in his perfect apple.”

“Hey, none of that chat.” David glowered, his voice stern in genuine admonition. “You’re nobody’s worm, Rio. I don’t know you well, but I know that. You’re tough and brave. Don’t let him get you to belittle yourself, even in jest.”

His gentle scolding warmed her even as it shocked her. David had struck her as so passive, so amenable to every situation. His protectiveness—of her, no less—even in this back-door kind of way, made her feel safe for the first time.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

His scowl vanished. “Believe me, this town is nice, but it’s definitely not perfect. Except, maybe, for that place. The Loon Feather, just across the street.”

She took in the pretty corner building with its gray brick walls that all but glowed in the afternoon sun, and the striking mural of a loon carrying its chick on its back that took up nearly an entire side wall.

“My gosh. It’s all so pristine. Everything shines. Do they repaint it all every night like they do at Disneyland?”

“Hardly. It’s ‘pristine’ because pretty much everything we’ve passed so far, even The Loon itself, got nailed by a category four tornado two years ago this month.”

Her jaded disdain for the picture-perfect town turned to guilt. “Oh! I’m sorry. That explains the newly planted trees and the empty lots. It must have been pretty bad.”

“Devastating, yes. Not everyone has been able to rebuild, sadly, but thank God nobody died, so it also made everyone a bit closer. Disaster can bring out the best in people.”

Slight swelling closed up her throat. She sympathized with those who hadn’t been able to rebuild. She knew the feeling—an empty future weighed almost more than a person could handle.

“Are you hungry?”

She forced down the lump at the base of her esophagus. She’d spoken to all the bank people and insurance representatives she’d been able to reach in the five days she’d been at the shelter. She could do no more until after the weekend. Meanwhile, she wasn’t about to start leaning on his charity already. She’d leaned on him so literally and with such weakness the night of the fire. He didn’t need to keep seeing her as a poor needy woman.

“I’m fine just getting a few things at the grocery store.”

“All right, what I meant was, would you join me for lunch? I know where you’ll get a proper welcome to town—friendlier than the one from our new constable.”

“That wouldn’t take much.” She raised her brows. “I’d get a cheerier reception from the town undertaker.”

“Undertaker?” His unexpected laugh was infectious. “I doubt they even call them that in Dodge anymore.”

“What does a proper-speaking English duke know about Dodge?”

His brown eyes took on a rich, velvety sparkle, and he adopted a passable Southern drawl. “Why, you’d be surprised, Miz Rio. Even dukes can learn lower-class ways given enough time.”

She tried to hide a smile and execute a nonchalant shrug. “Fine, you’re on. Take me to this super-friendly place. If the greeting isn’t as good as you say, you’re paying.”

His brows knotted again. “I’m paying anyway.”

“I can—”

He held up a finger. “This was my idea. It wasn’t my intention to make you spend extra money your first day. Get the next one if you like.”

He’d done it again—protected her from herself. He’d allowed her to save her meager funds and yet save face. The man was sharp. Or truly kind. Or slick-tongued. She honestly couldn’t tell which.

Five minutes later he led her into the wood-and-calico interior of what he reiterated was the town’s favorite gathering place. She stood face-to-face with a large, neat birdcage, well-appointed with hanging toys and mirrors and occupied by two cockatiels, one gray, one white. A printed sign outside the cage read, “Cotton’s new phrase is ‘Have some pie.’”

David laughed. “This phrase is brand-new. Effie’s going for shameless promotion now. Brilliant.”

Rio frowned. “I don’t get it.”

At that moment the gray bird tilted his head and trilled out a familiar song she knew came from some old television show. When he finished, the white bird gave a short whistle and hopped across its bar. “Howdee, Stra-jer.”

Delight bubbled through her. “Oh! That’s so cool.”

“Meet the official greeters of Kennison Falls, Cotton and Lester. Lester’s the singer, and he’ll remember which song he sang for you. From now on, you’re with the Andy Griffith team. Cotton used to do nothing but stare—now she’s cock o’ the run. Can’t stop her talking.”

“Wekkom, kom in,” the bird said.

“Told you you’d be greeted properly,” David said.

Enchanted, Rio put a knuckle up against the cage bars.
The Andy Griffith Show.
That’s what the tune had been. “Do you have a song?” Lester bumped his beak against her skin but didn’t bite.

“Same one,” he said. “Everybody is one of two. Andy’s theme or ‘The Colonel Bogey March.’ You know,
Bridge on the River Kwai
?”

“Insane,” she said. “It seems like it has to be faked somehow.”

“Not at all. Canny little birds, these. Survived the tornado. They keep everyone cheerful without fail.” He leaned toward the cage. “Cotton. Have some pie. Have some pie.”

“That means something?”

“It’s what they’re teaching her to say next. Say it every time you come in now, until she knows it.”

“Have some pie?”

“Hav, hav,” said Cotton, and Rio laughed outright.

In the mostly empty main café, David walked straight to a table against a far wall filled with shelves that held classic old coffee and cookie canisters. Each table in the room bore a different calico or print fabric tablecloth and contrasting napkins resulting in a delightful hodgepodge.

“Why, hello, David. It’s a surprise to see you here in the middle of the day.”

A tall, trim older woman with sun-worn cheeks and an impressive gray braid that hung over her shoulder and nearly to her waist held out two menus.

“Claudia?” David lifted his brows. “Likewise. How did you get pressed into service?”

“You haven’t heard yet. Effie took a tumble in her garden yesterday and broke her hip. They’re talking replacement. We’re scrambling to fill in for her.”

“That’s dreadful!”

Rio immediately caught the true concern in their voices.

“It is. Meanwhile, I took today as hostess and waitress. Gladdie will take tomorrow. Karla will stay on until she has to start teaching the last week of August. We’ll manage. Now tell me. Who have we here? The new resident from Minneapolis is my guess. Hello, dear. Rio, isn’t it?”

Rio stared, flabbergasted. How did this grayed, lined woman-left-over-from-Woodstock remotely know who she was? The too-easy familiarity gave her a dull stomachache, although she didn’t see a shred of malice anywhere in the woman’s smiling face.

“It’s all right,” David soothed, reading what must have been a fabulous example of disbelief on her face. “News moves swiftly through a small town. You’ll get used to it.”

“Awesome.” She held her tongue against further retorts. She didn’t need any more enemies. Then again, she didn’t need an entire town keeping watch on her either.

“Claudia Lindquist, may I introduce Arionna Montoya? Rio is preferred, though, yes?” He looked to her for confirmation, and she nodded. “Rio, this is one of our . . . what are you, Claudia? The original town mum, I should think.”

“I’m certainly ancient enough.” The woman’s laugh rang musically. “Very pleased to meet you, Rio. Welcome.”

“Thank you. Glad to meet you, too.”

Only she wasn’t. Claudia Lindquist knew too much already, and she’d learned it too quickly, reminding Rio of her step-grandmother—a woman she’d be pleased
never
to see again.

“So, what’ll it be, dear ones? The only things we don’t have are Effie’s pies. I’m afraid nobody can re-create those. But Tiffany over at The Bread Basket has sent us some cheesecake. It’s a pretty good substitute.”

“Tiffany’s chocolate cheesecake,” David said with a grimace of pleasure. “Glad not to have to choose between that and Effie’s pies. Okay. Give us just a sec?”

“You got it, handsome. Rio, if you want that cheesecake after lunch, it’s on us. Sort of a welcome-to-town offering.” Claudia turned for the kitchen, her braid swinging back over her shoulder.

“You’re wrong. This
is
Disneyland. She’s just in costume, isn’t she?”

“I told you not to judge a town by its new police chief. And don’t worry about everyone knowing you. The network around here makes satellite technology look like two tins and a string. The town will take you in and keep you safe if that’s what you need. It’s a good place.”

She could barely imagine a good little place anymore. Her home had been a good little place.

“I’m sure it is.”

“Rio.” He reached a long-fingered hand across the table to where she toyed nervously with her napkin. When he covered her hand with his, she tried to draw away, but a sweet spark of comfort raced through her and she changed her mind—not liking that she had. “I don’t pretend to know what you’re going through. But give us a chance to help. It hasn’t been long enough yet to get everything sorted, but we will.”

“We?” She did withdraw her hand then, although it left her feeling torn and cold when his warmth was gone. “What do you mean ‘we’? Look, I am thankful to be here, don’t get me wrong. But you don’t know me. I don’t know you. This whole situation is just a little weird, don’t you think?” She held up her hand when his mouth opened. “Rhetorical question. The point is, I will figure out what to do next. Don’t spend any time trying to solve my problems—you don’t need to do that. I don’t want you to do that.”

To his credit, he seemed to take no offense to her tone. “I promise you nobody will make your decisions for you. I only mean that we’ll do everything we can to make you feel comfortable here until you can go back to Minneapolis.”

How did he do that? Defuse everything. Give her nothing to fight. Her strength was in her ability to push back, to solve, to be tough. In defense she changed the subject.

“Effie must be the regular cook?”

“The owner,” David replied. “And the pastry chef. Her pies are locally legendary. Her husband, Bud, is the main cook. Our high school music teacher, Karla Baxter, works here over the summer, but she’s got to head back to school soon. Effie normally hires short-term help over the winter. Looks like it’ll need to happen sooner.”