The Soldier's Sweetheart (9 page)

Unnerved, Will dropped his gaze to the white-linen-covered altar in the front. On the right wall were more pews—Will guessed for the choir—and on the left was the organ, from which came both melody and laughter.

Samantha slowed the pace of the music toward the end of the piece, finishing with a full, dramatic set of chords.

“Your daughter is quite the organ player,” Samantha commented, peering around the side of the organ and waving him forward.

“I can hear that,” he responded, starting in surprise. He didn’t know how she could have possibly seen him enter when she was in the midst of playing what to Will sounded like a complicated piece of music. Her fingers had been flying over the keys in swift and complicated runs, up, down and then back up again. At the same time, without missing a beat, she was caring for his child—teaching her, even. The woman could definitely multitask.

“Come look,” Samantha encouraged. “Genevieve knows how to find middle C.”

He cracked a grin. “I assume that’s an important skill in organ-hood,” he quipped.

“You’d better believe it,” she shot right back at him. “In piano-hood, too. The first step to a career as a concert pianist.”

“That sounds good to me,” he quipped.

“Daddy!” Genevieve exclaimed as he approached the organ, launching herself into Will’s arms from where she’d been crouched next to Samantha on the bench. It was a good thing serving in the military had given him quick reflexes or he wouldn’t have caught her. The little thing was as nimble as a chimpanzee, and every bit as quick.

Genevieve kissed his cheek and then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Yucky,” she stated definitively.

Samantha chuckled, and Will joined in. “Are you trying to tell me that I taste bad?”

The little girl scowled adorably and shook her head. “No, Daddy. You have a scratchy face.”

He ran a hand along his lightly stubbled jawline. He supposed he hadn’t used a razor in a couple of days, maybe because he was no longer required to do so. “I guess I need to shave, then. What do you think, Miss Samantha?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “I kind of like the unshaven look on you. It makes me think
manly
and
rugged
.”

Will decided right then and there that he was going to keep those whiskers. He felt as if he were glowing like a fluorescent bulb. He beamed at Samantha.

“All right, Monkey,” he said to Genevieve, who was, in fact, swinging on his arm as if he were a jungle gym. “Why don’t you crawl on over there by Miss Samantha and show me who or what a middle C is?”

Genevieve scrambled back onto the organ bench, scooting in close to Samantha. It was an intimate and trusting move that made Will’s heart warm. He stepped behind the ladies so he could better observe the process.

“Do you remember what to do?” Samantha prompted, holding up her right hand with her fingers spread wide and gesturing toward the top set of keys, only faintly indicating where the little girl’s fingers should go.

“Use my thumb and not my pointer,” Genevieve recited from memory.

Impressive. Samantha had had his little girl here at the church for all of, what, half an hour? And already she’d taught Genevieve to differentiate between her thumb and her index finger.

Will was definitely impressed.

“Ready? Set? Play!” Samantha exclaimed.

Genevieve’s thumb came down on the key at an angle, so there was a bit of discord at the beginning, but whatever key she’d landed on, she held onto it like a pro, the note echoing deeply through the pipes.

“Way cool, honey,” Will praised enthusiastically, meeting Samantha’s gaze over the top of the little girl’s head. He raised his brow in an unspoken question.
Right note?

Not that it would change how he was feeling right now. His heart was filled with so much love and delight that he thought he might burst from the mere pressure of the emotions. He was so incredibly proud of his little music aficionado that it didn’t matter what note she played.

“Middle C,” Samantha crowed in delight, beaming as bright as the sunshine streaming in the windows. “Way to go, Genevieve!”

If Will’s little girl was going to become a concert pianist, he owed it all to Samantha.

“Way to go, Genevieve!” she repeated.

He nodded in agreement, and then amended the statement slightly in his mind.

Way to go, Samantha.

Chapter Seven

W
ill knew something was wrong the moment he heard Samantha gasp.

It was Thursday and the shop had been slow, so they’d decided to close up a little early. He’d been caught up listening to the twangy country song Samantha had been blasting from her radio as he swept the back room while Samantha counted down the till in the front, but her exclamation was audible enough for him to hear it even over the noise.

Or maybe he was just so in tune to her that he could
feel
her distress. Either way, his response was immediate.

Dropping his broom, he quickly emerged from the back room. Samantha’s face was as white as a sheet. Her lips were tight and her pulse was pounding at the base of her neck.

He moved to her side, ready to suggest she pull up a chair and sit down to get her bearings when he saw the visitor standing just inside the front door. He was a tall, rangy man in a designer, pin-striped blue suit, complete with an elegantly folded white handkerchief protruding from the coat pocket and a camel-colored leather briefcase. He had a long nose and slicked-back black hair that put Will in mind of a vulture. He was one of those guys women might consider exceptionally good-looking—and he knew it. And knew how to use it, if the syrupy smile he flashed Samantha was any indication. The man reeked of overinflated ego and money.

To Will’s relief, Samantha appeared to be having none of it. Her expression hardened and she tipped her chin resolutely. She looked ready to do battle. Will shifted behind her right shoulder, subtly reminding her that he had her back.

If the situation hadn’t been so serious, Will would almost have felt sorry for the stranger.
Almost
. He’d been on the receiving end of Samantha’s glare more than once, and he knew how uncomfortable it was, but it didn’t appear to bother the spiffed-up, slicked-back fellow who still wore a confident, borderline-arrogant grin.

The guy set the hair on Will’s neck on end. He was polite, charming even, but something about the situation struck Will as off.

Perhaps there was no reason to worry. It was possible that Will was misreading Samantha’s signals. The blush now prettily staining her cheeks could just as well be from delight and not from distress.

But Will was a man who had long ago learned to go with his gut. His instincts had saved his hide countless times in the military. And right now every nerve in his body was screaming that they were in the midst of a minefield and he needed to protect Samantha.

Not that he had any doubt Samantha could hold her own. But it was with good reason that he’d been contending all along that a team was stronger than an individual. What was it her Grandpa Sampson had said? Something about safety in multitudes? Well, he might not be a multitude, but two was better than one. He’d learned that through his military experience and his family—and now, through the Howells. He owed them this, to be there for Samantha.

Besides, Will wouldn’t be taken in by the man’s easy charm or flattering looks.

The stranger laid a blue-backed document on the counter in front of Samantha and slid it her direction with the tips of his well-manicured fingers.

“My name is Cal Turner,” he said with an unnaturally white-toothed grin and a hint of an English accent. “I’m here today representing the interests of Stay-n-Shop.”

“I know who you are,” Samantha replied, smiling politely, although Will thought—hoped—it didn’t reach her eyes. “And I know who you work for. What I don’t know is why you are here. I’ve already said my piece and it appears you don’t care to hear what I have to say.”

“I’m sorry?” the lawyer queried. Clearly he wasn’t used to being countered. Will suspected that Cal had thought that a small-town country store owner would be easy pickings, especially a woman.

His sweet talk wouldn’t work on Samantha. She was too smart for that, and Will was positive she wouldn’t take it lying down. This was going to be interesting.

“Look, there’s no sense running around the issues here, so let’s just be blunt,” Samantha countered, her voice soft but firm. “It is my understanding that you’ve purchased a ninety-day option on a piece of property south of town. According to your new plans, you no longer need Sam’s Grocery. And even if you did, I’ve repeatedly declined your offers, generous as they’ve been. How dare you approach me again?”

Was that sarcasm? From the astonishment written in Cal’s expression, the lawyer certainly thought so. Her declaration was bold and brash and completely Samantha. Call a spade a spade and force the charismatic lawyer’s hand. Will’s chest swelled with emotion—pride, satisfaction and an enormous sense of gratification when the slick fellow’s jaw dropped. She’d clearly caught him completely off guard, which Will expected was exactly what she was trying to do in order to give herself time to think her way out of the situation. Will was happy she’d seen through Cal’s manipulative tactics.

It wasn’t, however, perhaps the best course of action when it came to Cal Turner. Will knew plenty of men like him—eager to do anything for the right price. He wouldn’t mind bending a few rules, or ignoring them altogether, in order to get the end result he desired.

At the same time, Will understood Samantha’s anger—shared it, even. And she was right. This guy was here for a reason, not a social call. If Stay-n-Shop had already settled on building a store in Serendipity, they no longer needed her or her grocery. She was, in fact, their direct competition. So why had the man presented himself here today, with legal documents to boot?

Was it possible that the Howells’ prayers had already been answered? Was Stay-n-Shop pulling out of the picture?

Cal’s smile disappeared and his blue eyes grew dark. He tapped his fingers against the document. “This is your lucky day. I’ve been authorized by Stay-n-Shop to give you one last opportunity to sign a deal with us.”

“And why would I do that?”

“You might want to look over this contract before you make any decisions,” he advised brusquely. “You should be grateful and know a good deal when you see one. Stay-n-Shop has upped the ante for you, although in all honesty, I can’t imagine why.” He took a sweeping glance around the store, a disdainful expression on his face. Clearly the country ambience that was Sam’s Grocery did not appeal to Cal Turner. So much for pleasantness and charm.

Samantha sniffed. She’d seen Cal’s expression, as well.

“They’re offering you more than they’ve offered to any of the other grocers in the area. What are you waiting for?” Cal offered Samantha a black pen that was probably worth more than Will had made in a month in the Army.

“Apparently you are hard of hearing,” Samantha said in a scathing tone. “I have no intention of signing your document. It’s never going to happen. So why don’t you just turn yourself right around and go out the way you came in. I’m sure I don’t have to show you the door.”

“I suggest you think before you speak, young lady,” Cal snapped, looking down his nose at her. Now there was no question that he was a vulture. “Are there any lawyers in this boondock town? Because I highly recommend you get legal counsel before turning down this offer—not that I expect any lawyers around here will be knowledgeable enough to assist you in this.”

Samantha merely raised an eyebrow and pointed toward the door.

“You obviously don’t know what you’re doing.” His once-smooth voice sounded strained. “You’re opposing perfectly good terms for a store that isn’t worth half what they’re offering. You’d be able to buy a house.” He waved a hand in an encompassing movement. “And what do you think all the people in your little town will think about this? Your store is nothing compared to what Stay-n-Shop can offer the people of Serendipity. Variety. Discounts.
Jobs
. If they decide to build, you’ll be out of business within a year, maybe sooner. Mark my word on that.”

“Is that a threat?” Samantha asked through gritted teeth, and Will slid a hand around her waist, curling his thumb through one of the belt loops on her jeans. She looked like she was about to spring at Cal like a rabid dog. Not that the guy didn’t deserve it, but choking the life out of him wouldn’t further Samantha’s cause. In fact, it might make things worse. Otherwise, Samantha would have had to wait in line behind Will.

“Take my words any way you wish,” Cal hissed. “This proposal has a time limit on it, and the corporation is unlikely to put such terms on the table again. In fact, I can pretty much guarantee you that this is the last opportunity you’re going to get. If I were you, I would take it and run, before you have nothing to run with.”

“Stay-n-Shop can build as big a shopping center as they want to. They can never offer the kind of personal customer service Sam’s Grocery does. I know the names of virtually everyone who walks in my door. I have loyal customers who will never desert me. And if you think they will, you don’t know the first thing about family legacies and small-town dynamics.”

“Perhaps not, but I do know discounts. And I know how fickle people are once they’ve had a taste of variety. And you’d be surprised how quickly your
loyal customers
will switch to Stay-n-Shop once they realize how much they can save there.”

Will could feel the tension in Samantha’s back and knew how much it cost her to remain in control, yet she showed no signs of weakness. Her shoulders were squarely set in determination and her gaze never faltered from the lawyer’s arrogant glower.

Will admired her strength, but he had seen and heard enough from this slick Cal fellow. He shifted so he was standing just behind Samantha’s left shoulder and slid his arm from her waist to her shoulders, grasping her firmly, keeping her steady as he reached across the counter with his other arm. Leveling the lawyer with a glare, he planted his palm over the contract and pushed it back toward Cal.

“I believe the lady said she wasn’t interested,” he said. “I highly suggest you take your legal mumbo jumbo and get out of here.”

Samantha shifted her weight so that her shoulders rested against his chest. He tightened his hold on her even more.

“This isn’t the last you’ll see of me,” Cal warned, swiping up the contract and furiously waving it in their direction. “Next time I won’t be so nice.”

“You’d better hope there
is
no next time, buddy,” Will warned. “You should stay away from here if you know what’s good for you.” If this charismatic scavenger thought he could mess with Samantha, he had another thing coming. Like Will’s fist.

Cal’s gaze faltered just for a moment as his eyes met Will’s, and Will pressed his advantage, pointing toward the door. “I said go. Now.”

Cal’s gaze narrowed. “You can count on there being
a next time
. We’re already in the process of scheduling a town council meeting, so this is
not
the last you’ll see of me,” he growled. Then he spun on his heel and fled.

When the man was finally out of sight, Will realized how tightly he was grasping Samantha and loosened his hold on her. A little.

Enemy thwarted. Crisis averted.

For now.

* * *

The moment Cal Turner was gone, Samantha melted into the strength of Will’s arms. She’d been holding herself so rigidly that when she took a deep breath, her head began to spin and she saw black spots before her eyes.

She had no doubt that Cal Turner would make good on his threat. He’d be back—no doubt with a legion of corporate lawyers trying to press for what they wanted. It didn’t help to know they usually got exactly what they wanted.

She wished they would just leave her alone.

But what if they didn’t come back? What if this was, in fact, Stay-n-Shop’s last attempt to buy out Sam’s Grocery? Perhaps they would simply begin construction on their own site, in which case leaving her alone was probably not for the better.

She sent up a silent prayer of thanks that Will had been there with her and had her back, both literally and figuratively, during the crisis moment. She supposed she should feel humiliated and embarrassed that he had witnessed the scene with Cal’s counterfeit fawning and flattery, but she only felt gratitude toward him. She wasn’t positive Cal would have left without Will’s physical bulk backing her up.

Literally
backing her up. She had to admit, sometimes muscle was a good thing. His broad chest had been—still was, in fact—a haven for her. She’d drawn strength from the silent power of his intensity, making it possible for her to stand up to Cal and appear strong on the outside when on the inside she was shaking.

Now that the misleadingly charming, intimidating lawyer had left and the immediate threat was gone, she was quivering with an intensity that frightened her. Even her teeth were chattering. She swiped a hand over her face, trying to steady herself.

Will tightened his hands on her shoulders and turned her around, staring intently down at her face. His gaze clouded with worry. He led her to a nearby chair, urging her to sit. “Can I get you something? A glass of water, maybe?”

“No. I’m fine,” she insisted, although she felt anything but
fine
. She set her jaw, wrestling to contain her emotions.

“Just try to breathe,” Will murmured, crouching before her and meeting her gaze with his intense brown eyes.

“I am breathing.” She hiccupped.

“Yeah, you are,” he agreed with a wry chuckle. “Breathing
fire
.”

She laughed despite herself, and he grinned back at her.

“I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m okay, mostly thanks to you. You really helped me out today.”

“You did a great job all on your own.” Will nodded and reached for her hand, stroking it lightly with the pad of his thumb. “But I was glad to be there for you.”

For her.
Did he really mean that, or was it a slip of the tongue?

It wasn’t as if she could ask him, but when his grip tightened on her hand and his gaze turned dark, words simply weren’t necessary.

Leaning forward on one knee, he framed her face in his hands. They were large, rough hands—the hands of a soldier.