Sweetheart Cottage (Cranberry Bay #1) (18 page)

I lifted a stepping stone onto the table,
took a step backward, and promptly crashed into
a warm
chest.

“Umfh,” I managed. Embarrassed, I stepped away and looked up into bright
blue eyes, and a face that was instantly
familiar.

“Christopher,” I
breathed.

I could never forget Christopher. I’d
met him two years ago as an eighth grader. By
a strange twist of good luck, Christopher had
been
my
partner
in
French.
Every
time
he
looked
at me, or our hands accidentally touched, I knew
he liked me. I couldn’t wait until the
year-end dance. I’d been dreaming about it since
December. Christopher would take my hand, and
lead me out to the dance floor. He’d wrap his
arms around
me
and
tell
me
I
was
the
only
girl
for him. Of course, we’d be together
forever.

But things hadn’t exactly happened
that way. Instead, the dance had barely started
before Christopher disappeared like a magic trick.
I spent
most
of
the
night
trying
to
pretend
I
was having
a
good
time
when,
in
reality,
all
I
could do
was
wonder
what
happened
to
him.
It
was one time when, I have to admit, the game of
pretend did not work very well. When the
dance ended, we all rushed outside, only to find
Christopher being escorted into a police car. He could barely stand and the rumors immediately
started he’d been caught using drugs. I refused to
believe it. Not the Christopher I knew. He’d
never use
drugs.

But by the fall, Christopher was gone.
Everyone
said
his
mom
had
him
transferred
to
the private
high
school.
I
had
been
devastated.
All my dreams of being with Christopher in
high school were
shattered.

Now, here he was, and I could
barely breathe.

“Hi,” Christopher said, and smiled at
me. “Good to see you.” He touched my arm
briefly and shivers ran up and down my insides. It
was fate that we met
again.

Fate.

Christopher absently picked up a
spatula covered with hardened mosaic goop. “Ladies and Gentleman.” He waved the
pretend wand in the
air.

Immediately, a small crowd gathered
outside the tent. I smiled. It was just like
eighth grade. Christopher was charming everyone.
I stood a little taller next to
him.

Christopher inserted his ungloved hand
into a plastic bucket and scooped up a large
handful of mortar. He rubbed the mortar over
his hand. The thick gooey substance spread
between
his
fingertips.

“Wait…I
wouldn’t…”

“Yes?”  Christopher raised his eyebrow at me.

I giggled. Christopher looked just like our French teacher, Mrs. Pierce, who gave us a
similar look when we flubbed another French
word and turned it to garble. “Mortar hardens fast,”
I managed to say, as I grabbed a rag from the
back table.

Christopher waved his hand in the air as if a hand covered with hardening mortar was
all part of the show. A gaggle of giggling
ten-year- old girls inched closer to him. How many
other girls had Christopher entertained since I’d
last seen
him?
Was
there
someone
who
he
called
a girlfriend?

“I’m a statue!” Christopher froze. He
raised his hands to the sky. Out of the corner of
his mouth,
he
whispered,
“Hand
me
that
rag.”
He winked at me. “I think I may have gotten
myself in a
mess.”

Quickly, I grabbed the turpentine and
cloth Gloria kept on the back table.
Christopher reached out for a stepping stone and sent
them crashing to the
ground.

I froze.

Everyone in the tent turned to stare at us.
I knew my face was turning shades of purple.
I hated being the center of attention. It was
okay for things like Science Fair award
ceremonies where
I
only
had
to
shake
someone’s
hand
and take the ribbon. But to be center stage because
of something bad was
unthinkable.

“I’ll fix it,” Christopher muttered as
he leaned over and lifted the broken pieces from
the ground. They were equal in size. It was as
if someone had taken a knife and simply
sliced down the middle.  I was mesmerized by his hands and the gentle way he held the
stones. What would it feel like to be in his hands,
being held so gently? I
shivered.

Christopher dropped a glob of mortar
over one of the half-moon stones. He plunked
broken slices
of
china
into
the
soft
white
mortar.
When he
was
finished,
he
held
up
the
stone.
“Two
for the price of one,” he said and smiled at me with
a gentle, lazy, sexy look. My heart crashed to
the ground like the broken pieces. Christopher
had me hooked. I would have done anything
he asked at that
moment.

“Thanks,” I
mumbled.

“See you later, Sarah,” Christopher said
as he strolled out of the
tent.

Sarah?

No, I shook my
head.

He must have said
Shantel.

I simply
misheard.

Weaving Magic
is available in print or ebook. Please visit Mindy’s website at:
www.mindyhardwick.com
to learn more about
Weaving Magic
as well as discover Mindy’s other books including a novel for tweens,
Stained Glass Summer.

Best-selling author, Mindy Hardwick, enjoys writing sweet contemporary small-town romance as well as children’s books which celebrate art and community in the Pacific Northwest. Her published children's and young adult books include:
Stained Glass Summer
and
Weaving Magic
as well as a digital picture book,
Finders Keepers
. Mindy can often be found walking on the Oregon Coast beaches and dreaming up new story ideas with her cocker spaniel, Stormy. Mindy loves hearing from readers and you can follow her blog to find out more about the Cranberry Bay Series and participate in fun blog hops with great giveaways:
/www.mindyhardwick.wordpress.com