Cedar Creek Seasons (22 page)

Brad lifted his glass from the place mat and Eli’s grin caught her attention.

A shaft of sadness stabbed her heart.

“Aunt Claire, may I have your room key?” Melissa patted her mouth with a napkin. “I left mine upstairs and need to pick up the tablecloths in a bit.”

Claire reached for the purse looped to the back of the chair. Heat rose in her face. She leaned back and looked under the table. “Where’s my purse?” She pulled out the extra chair, her pulse racing. “Melissa, I can’t find it.”

Brad bent over and repeated her search. “Not here.”

“You must’ve left it in the bathroom.” Melissa shoved out of her chair. “I’ll look.” She returned seconds later. “Not there, either.” She propped her hands on her hips. “When did you last have it?”

A cold sheen of perspiration coated Claire’s face. She clenched the napkin to her chest. “I had it earlier.” A knot formed in her stomach as she pictured plopping it onto the jewelry store counter. She blew out a breath. “At the jewelry store.”

Melissa patted her shoulder. “Which one? I’ll go with you to find it.”

“Are you looking for this?”

Claire swiveled toward the familiar bass voice. Eli dangled her gold Coach purse in the air with one finger and smiled.

“Thank you,” Melissa said. “How did you know—” She frowned for a moment then beamed at Eli. “You’re Aunt Claire’s Eli.” Her voice rose an octave. “I’ve seen your picture.”

Flames bit at Claire’s cheeks. “Thank you, Eli.”

He chuckled. “You’re welcome, Aunt Claire.” He handed over the purse and stuck his hand out toward her niece. “Aunt Claire’s Eli Mueller.”

Melissa shook hands with him, a silly grin spreading across her face. “Nice to finally meet you.” She introduced Brad. “We were just leaving.” Grinning again, she pointed to the purse. “Once I get a room key.” Claire fished in the outside pocket and produced a key.

Brad stared at his plate. “I’m not quite finished.” Melissa coughed and nodded. He shot to his feet. “I’ll save the other half for later.” He scooped the remaining hamburger into his napkin, grabbed his water glass, and gripped it in his teeth, mumbling a good-bye around its edge. The couple left.

Leaving Claire with Eli.

Eli pointed toward an empty chair. “May I join you?” Claire’s red cheeks turned rosier.

“Mr. Mueller, may I bring you something to drink?” The waitress stepped closer, bouncing on her tennis-shoe-clad toes.

Eli raised a brow in Claire’s direction, and she whispered, “Of course you may.”

He ordered a soda and sat across from her.

“Thank you for rescuing my purse.” She tucked the large bag in her lap. “It contains—”

“From its weight, probably most of what you own.” Eli laughed.

Claire frowned. “I own quite a bit, Mr. Mueller.” She slid the purse to the ground then pointed to the place mat. “Though maybe I’m not as famous as this silversmith.”

“Ah, product placement. Good idea, according to the Internet.” He thanked the waitress when she returned and set the glass on his picture. “I think this is what happens most of the time.” He rotated the glass and searched for a topic of conversation. He glanced at Claire. Her back looked stiff, her brow pinched. She was just as uncomfortable with him. He didn’t want to cause her pain.

“I suppose I’d better get back to the shop.” He rose and tossed a couple of dollar bills beside his untouched drink. “It was nice seeing you. Have a good time.” He shoved the chair toward the table. “I’ll have that ring repaired in no time.”

Claire stared at him, lines around her blue-gray eyes crinkling. “Thank you for returning my purse.” Her whispery-sweet voice was music to his ears.

“Maybe we’ll cross paths again during the festival.” Eli turned and started toward the store. He stepped around a lady with a baby stroller and wandered through the crowd.
You’ve waited for this moment for years and totally blew it, Mueller
. He pinched the bridge of his nose.
You chicken
.

A
clerk nodded and waved at Claire when she entered the Washington House Inn. The cool, quiet lobby drained tension from her shoulders. The breakfast room was empty at the moment. Her mouth watered at the thought of the inn’s award-winning signature scones. Even though she wasn’t hungry, she was tempted to ask the cook if any were left.

In her room, she sank into the burgundy paisley wingback chair, slid her wet shoes off, and wiggled her damp toes against the carpet, resisting the urge to crawl under the rose-covered comforter on the bed. A long snuggle with a feather pillow sounded so good.

She leaned against the back of the chair and noted the old stone wall in front of her. According to the inn’s history, the mottled cream-and-gray wall had stood since the late 1800s. Old. Like she felt. Fingering the purse strap Eli had held moments before, she closed her eyes.

Knobby knuckles had graced his brown hands. “Silver hair and maybe arthritis?”

Senior citizen or not, Eli Mueller had aged well. A smile teased her lips.

“Aunt Claire?” Melissa’s voice jolted the stillness. “Brad’s with me. May we come in?”

“Of course.” Claire shoved her shoes under the chair and dropped the purse on the floor.

Brad marched in, a red canvas tote in hand. “For you, ma’am.” He plopped the bag in Claire’s lap.

“What’s this?”

Melissa laughed. “Brad said it reminded him of you.”

Claire tugged out a sack of jelly beans and three black licorice sticks. She raised a brow. “Why did these make you think of me?”

“Saw’em in the candy shop. Knew they had’em in the old days.” Brad’s face blazed red. “I mean retro. I—I, um … wanted to cheer you up.” He stared at the floor and shuffled his feet. “Melissa said your Cedarburg boyfriend had jilted you.”

Melissa grabbed his arm. “Brad!” she growled. She scooted closer to her aunt. “Are you okay?” She kneeled and placed one hand on Claire’s knee. “I know that was a shock, seeing Eli.” Tears welled in her blue eyes.

“Honey, I’m fine.” Claire stood. “Thank you, Brad. You were very kind to think of me.” To tell the young man how she really felt about his gifts
wasn’t
kind.

“Whew. I was concerned. That’s a relief.” Melissa stepped closer to her bed. “Want to do some sightseeing?” She pawed through her suitcase and pulled out a pair of Nikes. “Need these?” She extended them with one hand.

“I’m good.” Claire inched her dry big toe along the carpet. “Be glad to go.”

Melissa excused herself and dashed into the bathroom. Brad shifted from one foot to the other.

Claire turned and stooped to grab dirty brown clogs from under the bed just as Brad backed up. The two collided, end to end. She pitched forward into Melissa’s open suitcase, and a blue bra strap wrapped around her ear.

“Mrs. Parsons. Oh my.” Brad grabbed her elbow and tugged. “I’m so—” When he caught sight of the bra, his face mottled purple and he let go. Claire tumbled again.

“Aunt Claire.” Melissa rushed to her side. “What happened?”

“Just a little accident, that’s all.” Claire’s words sounded muffled against stacks of clothing. She righted herself.

Consternation shone on Brad’s face. “I’m so sorry,” he sputtered. “I didn’t mean—”

Melissa slid one arm about Claire’s waist. “Sit down.”

“Seriously, I’m fine.” Claire pointed to her shoes. “Hand me those and let’s go.”

Brad retreated to the door, the back of his neck blotchy red.

“Are you sure?”

Claire glared at her niece. The overprotective attitude had begun to grate on her nerves. “I’m quite sure.”

A rap at the doorway interrupted the melee. Brad swung the door open wide. A lady stood in the doorway, a large bouquet in her hands. “Claire Parsons?”

Melissa pointed.

The lady stepped just inside the room and set a vase of daisies on an end table then turned to leave.

“Wait a minute.” Claire eyed the vase then the woman. “Where did these come from?”

“The card is tucked inside.” She smiled. “Have a nice day.”

“Nice day, indeed, when you get flowers.” Melissa giggled. She lifted a card from the floral arrangement. “I bet I know who sent them,” she singsonged.

Claire’s heart pounded against her ribs, and heat rushed up her cheeks.
Daisies
. She blinked hard and stared at the card in Melissa’s hand. “Open it.”

“Nope.” Melissa tapped it with a finger. “Has your name on it.” She grinned and handed the card to Claire. “We’ll meet you outside.” She grasped Brad’s elbow and led him out of the room.

Once the door shut, Claire sank onto the bed. Her fingers felt cold and stiff. Daisies. He’d sent daisies before. The day before he left Cedarburg.

She slid a lilac-colored card from the envelope.

Claire, hope you enjoy your return home. Nice to see you. Eli
.

Nice? Her hand trembled. Nice to see you? Forty years later and that’s all he could think of to say? And how did he know where she was staying? Sure, it was a small town. And he seemed to be pretty important. But how did he find her so quickly? Claire chewed her lower lip.

“Marie.” The clerk had her contact information. Anger flashed through her middle. “She had no right to pass on personal information. No right at all.”

She scanned the card. “Enjoy my return home.” Claire stood and stepped to the window. She caught sight of the edge of a banner down the street.

W
ELCOME TO THE
S
TRAWBERRY
F
ESTIVAL
S
ILVER
L
INE
J
EWE
—

She spun around. Everywhere she turned, Eli Mueller was on display.

Well, he might be important, but Marie certainly hadn’t permission to pass on her personal information to him.

Stabbing her hands onto her hips, Claire bumped the telephone perched on the nightstand. She frowned. “I’ll report this infraction.” She jerked the phone book from a drawer and located the number for the Cedarburg town board. After two rings, a woman answered.

“I’d like to report a—” What was she reporting? “—a poor business practice.” Claire swiped dust from around the phone’s keypad.

“I’m sorry to hear you’re unhappy, ma’am,” the lady cooed. “Let me give you a contact number to file a report.”

Claire fumbled in her purse for a pen then twirled the florist envelope around, poising her hand to write. “Ready.”

“Call Eli Mueller—”

The lady droned on, but nothing computed. Claire dropped the receiver in the cradle and flopped against a pillow.

She would have to complain to Eli about Eli. He’d taken over Cedarburg.

“Cookie?” Marie held out a plastic bag.

“No thanks.” Eli rubbed his hand down his jeans. Since he’d returned to the shop and ordered flowers, Marie had been unduly attentive. Earlier she’d bristled when asked for the florist’s number, her jaw clenched and brow furrowed, clearly annoyed.

Good motivation to get to work. “I’ll be in back.” Settling on a stool at his workbench, Eli selected a brown envelope and slid out a silver bracelet and charm. He lifted flat-jaw pliers and began to attach the heart-shaped strawberry to a link.

Heaving a sigh, he set the materials down. He leaned one elbow on the wooden table and pinched the bridge of his nose. Daisies. He always thought of Claire when he saw them. Lighthearted flowers. Like she had been.

“Wonder what she’s like now?”

“Who?”

Eli jerked around.

Marie stood in the doorway, her arms crossed. “Are you talking about Claire?”

He turned back and picked up the pliers. “Yeah. It’s always interesting when you run into old high school friends.” He pressed a silver loop onto the charm. “Remember when Cynthia Minto came through town?”

Marie stepped closer and leaned against the workbench. “I do.” She toyed with a needle file. “But you didn’t send flowers.”

Eli straightened, his mouth pressed into a straight line. He faced Marie. Her green eyes probed his face. His ears burned. “You’re right.” His stomach churned. He’d put this conversation off long enough. “Marie, I appreciate all the help you’ve given me, all the cookies, the casseroles.” He sighed. “But—”

She lowered her gaze. “But I’m not Claire.” She wheeled about and shut the workroom door.