May Day Magic (4 page)

Marc laughed then looked down at her, his handsome face split in a wide grin.

He looked like a kid exploring one of Stafford’s surprise bags of penny candy. Diane clenched her teeth.

The planter rested mere inches from his boot, a detail no doubt far from his consciousness. If he moved at all, he could land on that trim rear end of his. And the way Jackie-O-with-extensions was leaning in, she’d be right on top of him.

Diane stomped over to the displayed roll of plastic sheeting and yanked off a panel to place under the planter. When they got to the car, she handed the small grocery bag to Meggie without a word, turned the key, and with an efficient check of the driveway behind her, she backed up, turned, and headed for her planter.

She’d never seen this gullible side of Marc, but then she hadn’t been seriously looking until… She caught herself. Was she seriously looking now? Getting tangled up with a divorcee looking to sow some wild oats was the last thing she was interested in.

Or was it?

When she pulled up, Marc turned and raised a hand to them, and her pulse thrummed. The dark-haired beauty, who looked on the low side of thirty and more glamorous now that Diane was closer, glanced toward Diane’s car, her expression blank.

With a flick of her hair, which revealed large gold hoops, a few silvery words, and a flash of a smile, she brought Marc’s attention right back. She wound her arms around his neck and pushed her lithe frame against him for a moment in what Diane supposed was the woman’s version of a hug, albeit an R-rated one, before pulling away.

Diane’s stomach roiled.

As the woman turned to go, she gave Marc a gay wave—Diane could only imagine she’d added
arrivederci
or
ciao
or some such nonsense—and sashayed her tan hips into the emporium.

Diane felt a twisting in her chest. Could the woman be any more obvious? She got out of her car, opened the back door of her SUV, and spread the plastic over the storage area.

An instant later, Marc leaned in to position the planter in her car.

What assailed Diane’s nose wasn’t Marc’s scent, but notes of an exotic, expensive perfume, along with an undertone of—manure. His arm brushed hers, sending sparks up her arm despite her annoyance. With a start, she jerked away.

“Hey,” he said in low warning. “Easy. Don’t want to hurt your back again.”

At the husky intimacy in his voice, buoyancy leaped unbidden into the back of her throat. Caught between annoyance and attraction, she stood frozen, staring.

He looked back into the car. “What is it? Did you see a bee in here? They’re driving people crazy today.”

Diane shook her head.

“You didn’t just hurt your back again, did you?” He leaned toward her, studying her expression. “I’m not good at telling jokes. I don’t know how else to get you unstuck.”

A smile teased at the corners of her lips. The image of him taking the stage in a comedy club to make her laugh was too ridiculous. And, okay, she had to admit it, sweet.

Again, she shook her head, remembering that Jackie O appeared to have her sights set on this same would-be comedian. “I’m fine.” She stepped forward, and trailed a finger along the edge of the planter looking over the cheerful mix of pansies, colorful coleus, and some type of trailing vine. “The planter looks wonderful.”

Straightening alongside her, he joined her in looking over the assortment.

“Thank you for planting it up. The arrangement looks great.” She wanted to know if he had planted the container himself.

“Good.” He reached over in a proprietary manner and extracted a dead leaf. “I wasn’t sure you’d like the coleus in there.”

Warmth spread through her. He planted it.

He positioned the pot closer to the side of her car. “Hope the smell of that organic fertilizer doesn’t bother you. I forget.” He grinned. “I’m so used to it. The odor will go away in a few days.” His gaze caught hers.

“That’s fine,” Diane answered, nodding.

They stood facing each other, his dark hair glinting in the sunlight, his eyes the color of sun-warmed earth.

Allen moaned inside the car.

“Thanks, then.” She ducked her head, too aware of this man for her own good. “I need to get the kids home.” She got in her car. Her children had already opened all the windows.

“Somethin’ smells,” Allen muttered from the back seat.

Marc stood watching.

She waved and put the car into gear.

“Let me know how Grandma likes the basket,” he called out as she drove away.

Her heart gave an extra strong beat. She drove down the hill, merged into the traffic circle, and followed it around to the street that connected with theirs before her reverie was broken.

“Did you see Drew Garretson there?”

Diane glanced over at her daughter.

Meggie continued to stare straight ahead out the dashboard window.

“I did.” Diane kept her gaze focused forward. So, the interest was mutual. Drew was a good kid as far as she knew. “I didn’t ask you about him,” she defended herself.

Meggie gave her mother a sidelong gaze. “You wanted to.”

Caught. Diane smirked. “I did.”

“He doesn’t know I exist.”

A bark of disbelief escaped Diane. “I wouldn’t bank on that.”

****

With Stafford farmland stretching out on either side of the street, Marc stood, following Diane’s SUV until it disappeared at the bottom of the hill, his gaze narrowing as an idea played in his head.

Geez, he wished he hadn’t gotten stuck with Blair while Diane was around. Their families had been friends for decades, and she’d been all over guys for as long as he could remember. He hoped someday she’d find
the
man. He pushed out a long breath. Make life easier for the rest of the male population.

Remembering what had come out of his mouth, that the planter was his gift
to the school
, he cringed. That was some BS. He’d done the planter only for Diane, but somehow hadn’t wanted to admit it in the middle of the store with her kids and all the other customers around.

He headed back along the parking lot path to the store, directing a smile or nod at the customers walking by.

“Dad!”

He turned to see his son in the passenger seat of Ian’s best friend’s car. He walked over to the two boys.

Ian lifted his sunglasses from his lightly freckled nose, and stretched an upraised hand out to his father.

Marc slapped it. “What’s up?” He flattened his palm and held it out for his son to do the same.

“What’s up with you, sport?” Ian teased back.

Marc grinned down at his son. He leaned in to look over at the driver. “Hey, Jay. You two headed over to your house?”

“Yup,” Ian answered for his friend. “Mrs. McDermott is making us food, and then Scott and I and Mr. McD are leaving so we can get to the hotel by ten o’clock.”

“Sounds good,” Marc answered. “Thanks, Jay, and thank your parents for me.”

Jay nodded. “No problem, Mr. S.”

“Why don’t you call me, Ian, when you get settled tonight?”

“Okay.”

“What time do things get started in the morning?”

“We’re having breakfast with coach at eight thirty.”

Marc studied his son who was radiating excited anticipation. The freckles and lighter skin were his mother’s, but that energy was all Stafford. “Sorry I won’t be there with you, buddy.” He’d toyed with the idea of going on every college visit Ian had planned, but they were coming into high season at Stafford’s. The compromise for now was that Jay’s father would take the boys on this visit, and Marc would do the one they had scheduled in two weeks.

With only a single lane now to get by, cars were backing up in the parking lot behind them. Marc gave the car door a light slap, and took a step back, feeling oddly bereft. “Have a great trip, guys.”

Chapter Six

Diane opened her eyes. Morning light filtered through her curtains. She lay quiet for a moment under the covers, taking in the promise of the day—the first of May.

After a quick shower, she pulled on jeans, a white shirt, and a bright cardigan. She finished with small crystal studs in her pierced ears.

In the early light, she stepped down the hallway, the carpet runner soft under her feet, to Meggie’s room to wake her.

Meggie jumped up, eager to try her hand at arranging the flowers in the little block of spongy green foam that would go inside the May basket.

Across the hall, Allen took a couple prods before he remembered the secret run to Grandma’s and sprung out of bed, too. He showed up minutes later attired in a dark tee and sweatpants—spy clothes.

Meggie fussed over the flower arrangement until Diane pronounced the basket ready.

She shooed her children out the door to the car, and then turned back for a moment. “You two go ahead. I’ll be right back.” She jogged upstairs to uncover the two plants hidden on the floor of her closet. The succulent that looked like miniature rocks went into a small plastic basket to hang over Allen’s door knob. The African violet she’d finally selected into a be-ribboned doily cone for Meggie’s door.

For just a moment, she paused to survey the baskets hanging on the knobs. Pleased, she hurried down the stairs.

Allen crouched near the corner of the house, entranced by a water-laden spider web. In a pink shirt and jeans, Meggie looked over his shoulder. Dew balanced on every blade of grass surrounding them, giving the lawn the appearance of a crystal carpet.

Diane drew in a joyful breath. In this moment, once again, the magic of the first day of May.

They hopped in the car and made the ten-minute drive to her mother’s place. When they arrived at the condo building, Diane stopped short of the entrance lobby behind a brace of bushes. She handed Meggie the card key for the main door. Allen flattened himself against the building until Meggie got the door open with the key, and they both slipped inside, Meggie carrying the May basket.

As the minutes ticked by, Diane held her breath. The May basket was supposed to be a surprise, but she hoped her mother had seen her grandchildren on their mission, and invited them in. Nervous anticipation tightened under her breastbone. She kept her gaze on the sliding doors of her mother’s second-floor balcony.

Several minutes later, her kids flew out the main door and ran down the sidewalk.

Diane called through her open window, her tone eager. “Did you see Grandma?”

“Nope,” Allen replied, as he opened the door and slid into the front seat he had claimed for the ride back.

She looked at her daughter in the back seat. Meggie shook her head.

“Oh.” Diane sagged against the car seat. “I thought maybe you did. You were gone awhile.”

“I
know
,” Allen exclaimed. “The man next door to Grandma came out of his apartment just as we got there so we had to hide down the hallway around the corner and wait until he left. Then he ran into some lady at the elevator and they talked forever.” He rolled his eyes.

A cloud passed over the sun. Her arm leaden, Diane put the car in gear.

“Wait,” Allen yelled.

Diane stamped on the brakes. “What is it?!”

“Grandma!” Allen pointed up to the second-floor balcony.

Grandma Joyce stood in the doorway of the open slider. Dressed in slacks and a lacey coral-colored sweater, she was steadying herself by grasping the door jamb with one hand, but with her other hand, she waved her May basket in the spring air. And she was smiling. Smiling!

Relief bubbled up inside Diane. She slid the car into park. “Go on,” she urged her children. “Run back up. When you get caught, you have to go get a kiss.”

Allen gave her an incredulous wide-eyed look. “Did you just make that up?”

“No,” Diane laughed, suddenly carefree. “Grandma will know that’s what you came back for. Go on. And tell her I’ll be by to see her later.”

When the children returned, Diane couldn’t resist their request for donuts. By the time they walked out of the shop, bakery bag in hand, the sun was shining again.

Turning into her driveway, Diane’s attention riveted on something that hadn’t been in their yard when they left. For the second time that morning, she hit the brakes hard.

There, on her front door, a May basket swayed in the breeze.

Her chin quivered. She looked over at her son. Allen’s lips were pressed together, his eyes large, like he had a secret he could barely contain. When she looked at Meggie in the rear view mirror, she spotted a wide smile spread across her daughter’s face.

They all tumbled out of the car, headed for the front door.

“Must be for you.” Allen nodded.

Throat tight, Diane opened her arms to draw her two children close. She kissed one and then the other on the top of the head. “I don’t know how you did this, but I love it.”

“Well, thanks, but we didn’t do it.” Meggie shrugged her shoulders. “Mr. Stafford must have.”

Diane’s insides swooped down to her toes then up into her throat.

Allen’s mouth dropped open as comprehension dawned in his eyes. “Yea. He must have. When we got to the store, we did say before you came, shouldn’t Mom have a May basket, too? But then you showed up, and we couldn’t talk about it.” He nodded again. “So that’s why I saw him just now.”

Diane rounded on her son. “You saw him? WHERE?”

“Walking. Down the street.” Allen arched back and stared upward. “What’s the matter with that?”

With a big exhale, Diane turned to Meggie.

“He was walking up Cedar Street when we drove by,”

Meggie’s tone was world-weary; had her daughter always known everything?

“He
is
the only person who knew about the May basket.” Meggie’s gaze narrowed. “Unless you told someone else.” She paused. “He likes you.”

Diane shook her head. An indefinable emotion expanded inside, making her blood pound faster. “But how did he know when we’d be gone?”

“Because he asked when we were taking the basket,” Meggie retorted. “You told him.”