Wishing on Willows: A Novel (14 page)

Mayor Ford clicked the end of his pen. “Our town’s economy has been sitting on a plateau for the past ten years. Fixtel opening its doors next spring will foster the kind of growth we’ve been wanting.”

“Fixtel will undoubtedly provide a substantial number of jobs, but as of right now, Peaks doesn’t have the residential appeal some of the surrounding towns do. We’re hoping the condos will change that and corral potential taxpayers.”

The mayor barked his laugh and raised his hand. “Sign me up!”

A ripple of laughter circled the table.

“All joking aside”—Mayor Ford’s laugh lines disappeared—“this is a fabulous opportunity for our town. One I’d like to seize. Which is why I’m proposing we add McKay condominiums to our development plan.

“They align with our objectives and give us the means to accomplish many of our goals.” Mayor Ford tapped his pen against the tabletop. “But we can’t move forward without the town’s support on the matter. And we’re not going to get their support unless we are united.”

Steve Milton, a narrow-faced man with a pointed nose, set his elbows on the table. “I’m not so sure I like this idea.”

Ian clasped his hands and folded them over his knee. “I’d love to hear your concerns, Mr. Milton.”

“You want to knock down three local businesses and a ministry that is near and dear to many people’s hearts. I’m not sure your condominiums are worth it.” Milton looked at Mayor Ford. “Does improving the south end of the district have to include tearing it apart? Shouldn’t our loyalty be to the businesses already existing in Peaks?”

“Of course my loyalty is to the businesses and residents of Peaks. That’s exactly why I’m proposing these plans. More people equals more business.”

“But what about the antique shop? Or Willow Tree?” Milton motioned to Richard Arton at the opposite end of the table. “Or the jewelry store?”

Arton removed his chin from his hand. “My wife and I have already
spoken with Ian. We’re more than willing to sell to him. Quite relieved about it, actually.”

Milton frowned. “What about One Life? They just hired a new director, and I hear he has big plans for the ministry.”

Mayor Ford balked. “Steve, the ministry can find another spot to rent.”

“My loyalty remains with the people of Peaks—”

“So you’re implying my loyalty lies elsewhere?”

Ian raised his hands. “Gentlemen, I’m sure we can talk this out. I’m glad you raised these concerns, Mr. Milton. I would love the opportunity to address them.”

Milton’s frown deepened into a scowl.

Mayor Ford huffed. “That antique shop has been an eyesore in this community since I became mayor ten years ago. One Life … well, who’s to say it will even be needed once our economy improves? And Robin will sell when she realizes how much the condominiums will benefit this town.”

“She’s a widow who’s invested more than time and money into Willow Tree, Chuck.” Milton removed his elbows from the table. “Or have you forgotten?”

In fifth grade, Ian’s best friend had chucked a crab apple at him when he wasn’t looking. It walloped him in the chest and knocked the wind right out of him. Milton’s words might as well have been that crab apple. “Excuse me a minute. I don’t think I heard correctly. Did you say Mrs. Price is a widow?”

“I assumed you knew,” Mayor Ford said.

Robin? But that couldn’t be right. He’d met her husband at church. Face to face. He saw him at the meet and greet. The man had Caleb’s eyes and mouth. The same last name. Of course he was Caleb’s father. “Then who’s the gentleman you introduced me to outside Grace Assembly?”

“Evan? He’s Robin’s brother-in-law.”

Ian’s thoughts tumbled off some sort of invisible precipice. They flailed in a confusing free fall. He tried to catch up with this new bit of information before the conversation got away from him, but the determination he’d mustered over the past couple days fell to pieces.

It couldn’t be helped.

This shifted everything. Robin Price, the woman who had it all—a business, a son, a spouse—didn’t actually have it all. The woman with eyes the color of a winter sky, the one who created soul-stirring music, the one who poured her heart into her café … she was a widow?

“It’s a sad story, to be sure.” Mayor Ford folded his hands. “We all loved Micah.”

Her nervous ring-twirling. The old widower sitting in her café, patiently waiting to talk. The reason she was the only one on the title. The insensitive things he’d said. Ian wanted to ram his head against the conference table.

“But we’re getting off track here. That was a long time ago. I don’t see why it should have any bearing on our decision today.”

“I don’t think she’ll sell,” Milton said. “No matter what we agree to.”

Mayor Ford batted his hand. “Of course she will. Robin grew up here. She cares about this town more than most folks I know. We all wanted her café to do well. As much as it pains me, the fact of the matter is, it’s struggling right alongside every other riverfront business. This town doesn’t need a café. It needs condominiums.”

“But what about One Life? People in this town do need that.”

The debate floated around Ian’s ears. He tried to pin it down, but all he could see was Robin, praising God with her music in church. It was as if somebody had pushed the pause button in his mind and stolen the remote.

The whirring of the espresso machine drowned out the woman’s chatter. Amanda wished the cup would take longer than twenty short seconds to fill. She let the dark liquid come out in a slow drip, unconcerned about the burnt taste that would ensue. Blaire St. Claire—seriously her name—wouldn’t notice the difference. She never stopped talking long enough to taste anything.

Robin was short staffed again and had to pick her dad up from the airport, which left Amanda here. Despite the lack of funds for it, her sister-in-law needed to hire another employee. Because as much fun as this might be, it was a constant reminder that Amanda did not have a life. At least not the one she was supposed to have.

She glanced at the clock. Thirty minutes before Molly’s shift started. Amanda wondered if Blaire would stay and talk the entire time. As soon as she stopped filling the cup, the woman’s voice came back to life—her whiny, high-pitched, too-fast voice.

“… I told Jeremy no way. I’m not pregnant. I’m just PMSing. But he had this dream that I was pregnant with twins. Can you believe it? So he goes and he buys me a pregnancy test and wouldn’t you know it. I’m pregnant. I am pregnant! Insanity, right? I mean, we got home from our honeymoon two months ago and I’m already impregnated?

“So this whole time, I’ve been freaking out, trying to figure out how to tell my sister. I mean, she and her husband have been married for five years with no kids and now they’re adopting.” She put her hand over her stomach and shook her head, like adoption was some tragic backup plan. Amanda held onto the cup, afraid if she set it on the counter, she’d reach over and
smack Blaire St. Claire upside the head. Not just for saying something so incredibly stupid, but for having the life Amanda had prayed for since Jason told her he loved her three years ago. “She never said they couldn’t get pregnant, but I’m not an idiot. My sister’s basically been depressed for the past three years. And here I am, pregnant as can be after two months of marital bliss. She’s going to be devastated, I just know it.”

Blaire waved her hand, as if to shoo the stench of her ten-minute monologue from the air. She picked up the cup and took a drink. “Anyway, enough about me. Tell me what’s going on in your life. I haven’t talked to you since the big breakup.” She quoted the last two words with her fingers and made her eyes go so wide, she looked like a strangled frog. “I couldn’t believe it when I heard. I mean, you two started dating before Jeremy and I even met. I thought for sure you were headed to the altar before us.”

Amanda gritted her teeth and told herself to stay quiet. To not respond. Anything she said would simply go in one ear, zip through the cavern in the middle, and float right out the other ear. There was no use wasting her breath.

Blaire took another sip of her espresso and dug a credit card from her purse. “And for him to leave you the way he did. For Africa? What does he think he’s doing in Africa? He’s obviously a loser and you’re better off without him.”

Amanda’s jaw tightened. “He went to Africa to do medical work in Nairobi. I hardly think that makes him a loser.”

“But he left you. I mean, how could he just leave you like that? I swear, he’s going to regret his decision. Someday he’s going to wake up, and he’s going to be sorry he chose Africa over you.” Blaire handed over her credit card and her oversized wedding ring caught the light.

Amanda snatched the card out of her hand, a little too fast. “He’s not going to regret his decision.” She hated that Blaire was prompting her to defend a man who had broken her heart. She hated even more that Blaire’s words sounded so blasted familiar. How many times had Amanda lain awake, hoping he’d regret the same thing?

Her mind wandered to the letter she’d folded and stuck in the sock
drawer of her dresser. The one with his e-mail address written at the bottom. Last night she broke down and wrote him. This morning, when she checked her inbox, disappointment had settled in her gut at its emptiness. A disappointment that had yet to leave.

“If he’s smart, he will. I mean, you’re a catch, Amanda. You really are. Don’t let what Jason did make you doubt that.”

Amanda slid the card across the counter and pressed her lips together. Maybe Blaire’s words would be sweet if she didn’t look so condescending when she said them. The bell on the door jingled. Amanda looked over Blaire’s shoulder and spotted Ian McKay strolling through the front door. A welcome relief.

Blaire put the card in her purse and slipped on her oversized sunglasses, oblivious to the fact that they made her look like a fly. She looked over her shoulder and the second Blaire’s head was turned, Amanda waved theatrically at Ian, her eyes filled with an exaggerated plea—a signal that communicated
Rescue me, please
. Blaire turned back around. Amanda stopped her waving and scratched the back of her head. Fly lady tipped her glasses down her nose and leaned close. “Hubba, hubba.”

Ian strolled toward them, wearing a moss-colored dress shirt and a slightly loosened dark chocolate tie, his eyes crinkled with amusement. Amanda’s stomach fluttered, something it hadn’t done since Jason. “If it isn’t the coffee guy.”

“That’s me.”

“You’ve been MIA the last few days.”

He set his hands on the counter. “Duty called.”

“Hey, I forgot to ask the last time our paths crossed. Did you ever get that stain out?”

“It’s as good as new, thanks to Bernie.”

Blaire let out an exaggerated cough. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend, Amanda?”

“Blaire, this is Ian McKay. Ian, this is Blaire St. Claire.”

Ian’s attention snapped to Amanda’s as soon as she said the name.
Oh yes, I’m serious
.

“Well, if it isn’t the developer man. I’ve been hearing the buzz. So nice to finally meet you.” Blaire stuck out her hand. Not for Ian to shake. But for Ian to kiss. Amanda choked on her laughter, but Ian looked completely unfazed. He kissed her knuckles and shot Amanda a subtle wink across the counter.

“How do you know Amanda?” Blaire asked.

“Oh, we go way back,” Ian said.

Blaire fingered the ends of her hair. “Do you?”

He nodded.

“Enjoy your coffee, Blaire,” Amanda said. “I hope you don’t get morning sickness, being pregnant with twins and all.”

Blaire’s cheeks turned pink. She pushed her sunglasses back into place and wiggled her fingers in a farewell wave. When she walked out the door, Amanda collapsed against the counter.

“Seems like a nice gal,” Ian said.

“Oh yes. Super nice.” Amanda pushed herself up from the counter. “So, Robin told me about your surprise visit on Monday. And the sale of Arton’s.”

“Is she doing okay?”

The concern was oddly placed. “Besides the fact that you’re trying to tear down her baby, she’s doing all right.”

His eyes lost their crinkles and she wanted to bring them back. She enjoyed the light, swoopy feeling they brought to her stomach. “So, fancy man, you really think you’ll get Robin to sell this place?”

“You don’t know me very well, Amanda. I can be pretty persuasive when I need to be.”

“I’ll bet you can.”

His attention wandered to the piano, to the loft, then stalled on the door leading into the kitchen. “Speaking of the owner, where is she? Shirking her duties on a Friday afternoon?”

“She’s picking up my parents and her dad from the airport. They’re flying in for the Price family picnic. It happens once a year, always on Memorial Day weekend.” And just this morning, Amanda invited Kyle. Robin
would kill her, of course, but Amanda was willing to bear the brunt of her wrath. Kyle was a nice guy. Robin needed to give him another shot. One awkward date was no reason to hammer all the nails in the coffin.

“Will she be working tomorrow?”

“Nobody will. She shuts this place down on holiday weekends.”

Ian tutted. “Not good for business.”

“Try telling her that. She never listens to me.”

“Could you relay a message?”

“For a reasonable fee.”

The crinkles returned. She would spout off a thousand quippy comments if it meant making them stay. “There’s a town meeting next Thursday about the condominiums.”

“Really?”

“I’d like to speak with Robin beforehand.”

Amanda set her hands on the counter. Robin was incredibly attached to Willow Tree. Sometimes Amanda wondered if the attachment bordered on unhealthy. Ian deserved to know what he was getting himself in to. “You seem like a nice guy.”

“I try my best.”

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up about this place. It means a lot to her.”

He gazed at the piano. “Well, Amanda, these condos mean a lot to me. At least we’re evenly matched.”

She shrugged. He’d either figure it out and quit or beat the odds and convince Robin to sell. Weirder things had happened. Like Blaire finding a man who could stomach the sound of her voice. “Can I get you that free chai tea?”