Love Blooms on Main Street (3 page)

“I have a lot of connection to Forest Ridge Hospital,” he said instead, feeling his stomach tighten on the words. He'd hated this place from the moment he first stepped foot in it, more than a dozen years ago, when he was still just a kid and his mother was first diagnosed with cancer. Hated the bare white walls, the sterile smell of disinfectant, the mysterious metal machinery that beeped and flashed. But it was the sense of hopelessness he'd hated the most. The fear that rested square in his chest every time he turned a corner, or looked up to see a stone-faced doctor enter the room. The fact that everything was unknown, and all of it was completely out of his control.

He'd vowed never to feel that way again. And he hadn't. Until recently.

“That you do.” It was a small community, and when you'd been in and out of this place as often as Brett had over the years, people knew the reason. “So your decision to leave Baltimore is personal then?”

Brett slid his hand over his jaw, hoping his expression remained neutral. “Strictly personal.”

He knew what his last boss had said. The words echoed in his ears the whole drive up to Vermont.
A change of speed will do you good.
More like it would take him out of the game, give him too much time to think about everything that had led to this, undermine every sacrifice he'd made for the sake of his career.

It happened to everyone at some point, he knew. Losing a patient was part of the job. Sometimes, no matter how hard you tried, the ambulance didn't get there in time, or the damage was just too deep.
Or someone messed up
.

Brett swallowed back the bitter taste that rose in his throat and reached for his paper cup of coffee, drinking it back even though it had grown cold. Now was the time to stay focused. He didn't have a choice. He hadn't given himself one.

Despite the caffeine, his eyelids felt heavy as he verbally walked through his résumé, tensing as the unease built, just like it always did when he thought back on his life. He knew he should be proud, that feeling guilty undercut the decision, but he couldn't help it; no matter how many times he looked at it, he felt one thing: selfish.

What was the alternative?
he told himself. No one passed up a full undergraduate scholarship to Yale. Or a free ride to medical school at Johns Hopkins. He'd been top of his class four years in a row. Impressive, yes, but the way he saw it, he had no other choice.

He had to make the most of the opportunity. How else did you justify leaving behind a sick mother or not returning years later when she relapsed?

“Well, I don't see any reason to postpone the obvious.” Dr. Gardner took off his reading glasses and smiled. “When can you start?”

The realization that he was back in Briar Creek, right back where he'd started, so far from where he wanted to be, hit him again. Briar Creek, with its winding back roads and town square festivals. With the people he'd known since he was too young to talk. There'd be questions. There'd be speculation. There'd be nowhere to hide. From what happened in Baltimore. From the bad memories that were already surfacing.

He gritted his teeth when he considered his run-in with Ivy, looking pretty as ever with those blue-green eyes and that glossy auburn hair that brought out the pink in her cheeks. Ivy was sweet, and he could tell she was fishing for an invitation—one he'd successfully danced around, careful not to mislead her. Girls like Ivy didn't kiss just for fun. He'd known it when he'd first leaned in to her, seen the curve of her smile, felt the race of her heart through the swell of her chest as he pulled her close to him. He knew he should have resisted, but she was a beautiful girl, always had been, and besides, he was just in town for the night.

Except now he was in town for a lot longer than one night. And from the way her smile had slipped when he'd dodged her suggestions for a date and excused himself, something told him that kissing Ivy Birch last November was a much bigger deal than he'd intended it to be.

Still, he couldn't help but smile when he thought of the way her ass had looked in those tight jeans, accentuating every curve in her crazy long legs. Better than that stuffy bridesmaid dress he'd been desperate to peel from her skin, that much was sure.

It's for the best
, he told himself. He didn't need any more distractions from his job at the moment, and Ivy didn't need a guy like him. Ivy was the kind of girl who wanted a picket fence and a quiet life in Briar Creek. Someone who could make a promise and keep it. He couldn't.

“When do you need me?”

“Well, Dr. Leery starts her maternity leave on Friday, so I'll put you on the on-call schedule for this upcoming weekend. Saturday nights can get a little crazy around here.”

Brett managed to nod politely. Compared to the stab wound he'd treated less than forty hours ago, he doubted a few overserved locals in need of an IV and a good long sleep could really constitute
crazy
, but who knew, maybe his old boss was right. Maybe taking a step back would do him good. He could clear his head and start trusting himself again.

“I should be wrapped up in Baltimore by Friday,” he said, standing to shake the man's hand.

“Excellent. And, Dr. Hastings, this may be a temporary position, but if everything works out, we may be able to find a permanent place for you here.”

I wouldn't bet on that
, Brett thought to himself.

Tomorrow he'd drive back to Baltimore and grab a few things, but he wouldn't break his lease. Forest Ridge Hospital may be where he landed, but if he had anything to do with it, it wouldn't be where he stayed.

B
y Wednesday, Ivy had stopped frantically brushing her hair in between customers. She'd also stopped checking her compact mirror to make sure her lip gloss hadn't somehow made its way to her teeth. She'd also almost stopped jumping every time the bells over her door jingled. But she hadn't quite lost the feeling of disappointment every time she glanced up to see that the person standing in her shop wasn't Brett.

When would she finally give up the last thread of hope and realize that he was not sweet and special but, sadly, was just like all the rest? Men couldn't be trusted—hadn't her mother told her that a hundred and ten times?

“You don't look happy to see me,” Kara Hastings remarked as she approached the well-worn farm table Ivy used as her workbench and counter. “Were you expecting someone special?”

Just your drop-dead gorgeous cousin
, Ivy wanted to say. Instead, she forced back her shoulders and said brightly, “Last I checked you were pretty special.”

Kara dropped her handbag onto the old rocking chair near a rack of locally made candles and soaps and sighed. “Nice to know at least one person thinks so.”

Ivy slid a sheaf of purple freesia into the vase and frowned. “Trouble at the restaurant?” She'd always been under the impression that Kara loved working at Briar Creek's newest restaurant, Rosemary and Thyme, but the hesitation in her friend's expression seemed to say otherwise.

Kara waved her hand through the air and shook her head. “Forget I said anything. It's just been a busy couple of weeks and I'm tired. Standing on your feet all day can get old.”

“Tell me about it,” Ivy agreed. She'd promised herself a decent lunch break today. She'd even made a chicken salad and tucked it into the mini-fridge so she wouldn't have to trek upstairs to her apartment. But instead of sitting down for ten minutes to enjoy it, she'd managed a few bites in between customers.

Kara picked up a Burgundy Iceberg rose and admired its lush purple color. “Do you ever get lonely, being here on your own all day?”

“No, but I wouldn't mind receiving the flowers for a change,” Ivy joked.

“That makes two of us. Tell me, is chivalry all but dead?”

“Given the amount of orders I fill each day, I can firmly say it is not. I guess I'm still waiting for the right guy to come along. At least I love my job. That's something.”

Ivy shucked the leaves from the few remaining assorted stems she'd chosen and finished her arrangement for the dance studio lobby. She knew Rosemary Hastings tended to like her flowers “pink, pink, and pink!” but she was fresh out of pink roses and peonies today. If she ever received an arrangement of her own, though, she hoped it would be peonies. She'd waited long enough—and a small part of her thought that the flowers, like the guy giving them to her, should be worth the wait.

“But to answer your question, I don't get very lonely, no. I'm so busy most of the time, and I have my customers to chat with.” She tipped her head. “Why do you ask?”

Kara's cheeks pinked. “Just wondering,” she said with a little shrug, shifting her eyes to the window.

Ivy transferred the vase to a sturdy open box and hoisted it into her arms. “I have to drop this off at the studio after I close. Want to join me?”

“I'll walk with you, but I'll wait outside. My mother's been on my case again. Wondering when I'm going to finally settle down, what I'm doing with my life. If I hear one more word about Sam Logan or Jackson Jones…”

Ivy pulled a sympathetic face. The town sheriff and mayor were the most eligible bachelors in town, and it didn't surprise her that Rosemary had targeted one of them for her oldest daughter. No doubt the other would default to Kara's younger sister, Molly, if she ever moved back to town.

“I've tried telling her, I've known these guys since they had missing teeth and skinned knees. There's no excitement in that.” Kara picked up her bag and followed Ivy to the door. “Unless safe and boring is what you're looking for.”

It had been exactly what Ivy had been looking for. Well, minus the boring part. There was nothing boring about Brett, with those steady dark eyes and that rich, warm laugh and the electric tease of those fingers. He'd made her feel…
special
, as Kara would say.

Well, he certainly hadn't made her feel special on Monday afternoon, had he?

“Are you okay?” Kara's voice was laced with amusement, and only then did Ivy realize she had been jamming the key in the lock with a little more vigor than usual. Embarrassed, she quickly turned it and put the keys in her pocket.

“It's old and tricky.” She smiled. “I keep meaning to get it fixed.” It was just another item on her ever-growing to-do list. There were many things she wanted to buy for the shop. She was forever thinking up new ways to improve it, new items she wanted to offer in addition to the artisan candles and soaps she sold alongside the flowers. For a while now she'd been planning to offer a flower-arranging class, but when she'd casually mentioned it to her brother, his complexion went all ruddy.

She'd stopped talking then and there, remembering her promise to him to slow down, to take on Jane's help, to cut back her own hours. But now that her diabetes was under control again, maybe she could start thinking about that class. If enrollment was high, the income would go toward that new sign she'd had on her wish list for over a year—after she'd paid back every dime she'd borrowed from her brother, of course.

Her eyes swept Main Street as they walked toward the town square and then waited at the light. She watched the cars pass by, trying to make out the faces in the windows, and then slid her focus over to the tall windows of Rosemary and Thyme at the corner of Second Avenue. It was entirely possible that Brett would have stopped by to spend time with his brother. Or maybe he was at Hastings, the diner up the street that was owned and run and by their mother, Sharon. She chewed her lower lip as they crossed the street, wondering if she should ask Kara directly.

“I ran into your cousin the other day.” Damn. Her voice sounded tight and overly cheerful. She tried again. “He was over at Forest Ridge Hospital when I went for an appointment.”

“Yeah, Mark took Sunday night off from the restaurant to have dinner with him and their mom.”

“How's he doing?” Ivy pressed, wondering if she was really prepared for the details. Did she really need to hear that he'd moved on, found a girlfriend? That some other girl was enjoying the tingling pleasure of his hands grazing her hips? He could even be engaged for all she knew. That kiss had happened more than half a year ago. And from the looks of things, he'd already forgotten it.

“I didn't get to see him,” Kara replied. “He went back to Baltimore yesterday morning.”

Well, that cemented it. Ivy did her best to mask the disappointment that landed square in her chest, and quickened her pace up the hill to the dance studio, where small girls wearing pink tutus were spilling from the door. So he was gone. Come and gone without so much as a goodbye. She swallowed back the lump that had wedged tight in her throat, knowing she was being ridiculous, that she was holding on to a kiss, of all things.

It's just that it had been such a good kiss. Such a long, heavy, passionate kiss. Full of such… promise.

Somewhere deep inside her, in a tiny little corner she didn't want to acknowledge, a part of her had still held out a tiny morsel of hope that something wonderful would happen, that the door to her shop would open, and she'd look up, and there he'd be, with that dazzling wide smile and those twinkling eyes. It would be like a scene out of a movie…

Except real life was never like the movies, was it? She
had
seen Brett again. And it had been far from magical. And that was just the cold, hard truth.

Kara was hiding behind a large maple tree, completely shielded from any view of the studio, when Ivy reemerged a few minutes later. Rosemary hadn't been particularly thrilled to learn that her favorite pink roses wouldn't be in until next week, but after a few tight pinches of her heavily lipsticked mouth, she'd finally admitted that the current arrangement was a refreshing change and a cheerful burst of color for the otherwise pastel-hued room.

“Did she see me?” Kara asked, darting her eyes to the left, her back firmly to the trunk.

“No,” Ivy replied, glancing back at the renovated red barn Rosemary had long ago transformed into a dance studio. “But you can't hide from her forever. She's your mother.”

“My very smothering mother,” Kara insisted. “Believe me, if she knew I was out here, she'd come running out, waving her lipstick, telling me I should never leave the house without it because… you never know who you might run into!” The last part was mimicked in Rosemary's larger-than-life trill, and Ivy had to laugh, until she was reminded of the bitter truth in the statement.

If she'd been wearing that cute dress she'd spotted rather than old jeans, looking freshfaced and calm instead of sporting a beaded sweat 'stache, would Brett have maybe reacted a little differently to her?

Guess she'd never know. Probably best not to think about it, either.

“Feel like grabbing a coffee?” Ivy asked. The thought of going home to her empty apartment was far from appealing.

Main Street Books was just around the corner and down Main, and Ivy was happy to spot her friend Grace through the big, lead-paned windows as they approached.

Brightening at the sight of them, Grace closed the cash register and handed over a brown paper bag of books to a customer. “Here to browse?”

“Here for coffee,” Kara replied. “Can you join us?”

Grace looked around the empty shop and nodded. “I doubt we'll have any more customers before closing time, so why not?”

The girls walked into the equally subdued adjacent café, dubbed the Annex, which typically cleared out near the dinner hour. “Jane's teaching tonight, so I've been manning both sections on my own. I could use a break.” She sighed as she sank into a wooden chair at a table near the window. “Help yourself to whatever you want. It's on the house.”

Ivy walked over to the bakery counter and eyed the sugar-coated scones, oversized cookies, and gooey coffee cakes, longingly thinking of how comforting their sweetness would be after such a crummy week. Before she did anything she would live to regret, she plucked a mug from the shelf and filled it to within an inch of the rim from the half-full pot of coffee warming on the burner.

“Normally, I'd demur, but I made these cookies today, and I've been thinking about them ever since you stopped by the restaurant to pick them up.” Kara happily added a large chocolate chip cookie to her plate and filled her own mug.

“I didn't know you made these,” Grace remarked as Kara pulled out a chair. “I had three different customers comment on them.”

“Really?” Kara flushed as a small smile parted her lips.

“Really.” Grace motioned to the cookie as Kara and Ivy sat down. “Mind if I see what all the fuss is about?” She broke off a corner of the cookie and chewed it thoughtfully. “Wow.”

Kara gave a modest shrug. “It's just a cookie.”

Grace broke off another piece. “No, it's just about the best cookie I've had in years. Don't tell Anna,” she added quickly. “Ivy, you have to try this.”

Ivy felt her own cheeks warm. “Oh, I trust you.”

But Grace wasn't backing down, and why should she? She had no clue about the condition Ivy had battled since first grade, even if she had been Ivy's best friend all that time. She'd be supportive, of course—probably too supportive. Ivy already had one person in her life who judged everything she put into her mouth, frowned with concern over the smallest perceived sign of distress, gave her endless lectures on kidney damage, and looked for symptoms of too much or too little blood sugar in pretty much everything she did. She didn't need Grace going there, too.

Grace broke off another piece and thrust it at Ivy. Ivy stared at the moist, gooey cookie with the large chunks of milk chocolate, and swallowed hard. It was just
one
bite.

A really big bite
, she could hear Henry's voice stern in her ear.

With a grin, she took the piece of cookie and shoved it in her mouth, closing her eyes as she tasted the brown sugar, vanilla, and smooth, creamy chocolate. “Wow is right, Kara. You have a gift!”

“Oh, I'm happy to help at the restaurant,” Kara said, sipping her coffee. “Your sister has taught me so much.”

“Well, up until today I would have said no one could beat her when it came to baked goods. If she knew she had anything to do with this, I'm sure she'd be pleased. Has she tried these?” Grace broke off another piece.

Kara shrugged. “I'm not sure. We're so busy. Just all doing our part…”

Her smile slipped, ever so slightly, and unnoticed by Grace, but Ivy caught it and frowned. “Well, I call this more than your part. You should start offering this on the dessert menu there. Maybe with some of that homemade vanilla bean ice cream Mark makes.” Not that Ivy had ever tried it.

“Maybe.” Kara shrugged again.

“Look at me!” Grace laughed and pushed the plate away. “I'm going to end up eating this whole damn thing. Here, take it.”

Ivy didn't move. She reached for her coffee mug with both hands and took a long sip instead.

“Ha, like you have to worry about your figure,” said Kara.

“Because I'm married now?” Grace shook her head.

“Hey, you have it easier than we single girls do,” Kara pointed out. “It's a miserable dating scene out there.”

That it was. Ivy reached over and broke off another piece of the cookie. A smaller one this time. The damage was already done, after all. She'd have to sneak off to the bathroom soon to give herself an injection of the insulin she now religiously carried with her at all times.