Small-Town Hearts (11 page)

John's assertion rang true. Part of the reason the Allegheny foothills area had pitched downhill economically was the poor accessibility. Eventually the new interstate and major roads were rebuilt, inviting greater access to the area. Opportunities were increasing.

Perfect for a business slated for Main Street, Wellsville.

He swallowed hard and reached for his bags. “I'll have my lawyer draw up the papers.” He made the statement a question, head angled slightly.

“Yes,” Kate said.

“Yes.” Jed nodded, his consent firmer than Kate's.

“The only thing I ask is that we keep this confidential for a few weeks.” Danny turned his look to the street. “The store is for my grandmother, and I want to make sure I've got everything set before we make things public.”

“Mother and I know how to keep things quiet.”

Kate stepped forward. “There's no funny business goin' on, is there?”

Danny shook his head. “I assure you, there's not. And feel free to have a lawyer go over the contract I bring over. It's always wise to seek legal counsel when you're talking this kind of money. We've got nothing to hide and because it's cash, it should be a simple transfer of title. There are no liens against the property?”

“None.” Jed straightened his shoulders, proud. “Mother and I've been together nearly fifty-four years and we've paid our bills, every one of them.”

That declaration didn't surprise Danny in the least. He reached out a hand to shake theirs. “I'll be by later tomorrow.”

“We'll be here.”

Danny headed back to his car, the weight of the bags a reminder of Meg's anger and mistrust.

But beyond her hurt feelings lay the simple fact that she was entrenched in her small-town existence and he had a job to do. They were at opposite ends of the spectrum, their jobs allowing little geographic compromise. He'd known that going in, and still he'd let himself become involved.

The memory of their sweet kiss spawned a chain of what-ifs, but he had to be sensible. His job required travel, and he'd seen Meg with her family. They were close-knit, and Ben's needs were a focal point for all of them.

She couldn't leave.

He couldn't stay.

Exactly the reason why he should walk away now. Leave it alone. Meg deserved someone who would put her needs first, love her and cherish her all of her days. She'd already been burned twice by men too stupid to realize the treasure they held.

And yet he couldn't deny the wash of peace he'd felt that morning, the century-old hymns and flickering candles a quiet summons, the calm of the surroundings easing his city-wearied soul.

Jed McGee's faded gaze came to mind. The old man had put off surgery to help his wife, and she'd put off surgery to help him. Their “Gift of the Magi” existence offered heartfelt inspiration, a living, breathing example from the book of Corinthians.

Being with Meg inspired those feelings in him, a whisper of possibilities that refused to be silenced.

Strains of the Four Seasons' “Candy Girl” interrupted his thoughts. Danny grabbed the phone. “Mary Clare, what's up?”

Long seconds of silence said too much. Danny gripped the phone tighter. “Sis, what's going on? Are you okay?”

Another stretch of near silence said she was fighting tears.

The Mary Clare he grew up with never cried, and if she did succumb to tears, they were generally tears of anger. With Christian's death they flowed more often, a fact that unnerved him, mostly because there was nothing he could do to offer solace.

“We've got trouble.”

Bad reception garbled her voice, breaking up her words. “In Philly? Which store? Market Street or University City?”

“Uni—” Crackle. Snap. Crackle.

“Mare, you there? Hello?”

“I've—” Dead air space followed, leaving Danny clutching the phone, vexed and distraught, ready to make the five-hour drive to Philly that moment. He pulled the car off the side of the road, climbed out and held the phone aloft, looking for better reception.

No magical bars appeared.

What had he promised her? That he'd come at a moment's notice if she needed him? If he left now he could be there before dark with the extended daylight, and help her with whatever she needed.

By the time he pulled the car into his parking spot at
Megan's, he'd imagined a myriad images about what might have gone wrong in Philly, with its recent upsurge in crime.

As he climbed out of the car, his phone rang again; it was his mother's ringtone. “Mom? Have you heard from Mary Clare? Is she okay? What's going on?”

“She's fine, Daniel. They had a police intervention just outside the campus store and had to cordon it off for a while, but everything's clear now.”

“What kind of intervention?”

His mother didn't mince words, but then, she never did. “A drug deal gone bad.”

His protective instincts soared. “You're kidding.”

“I'm not, but everything's all right.”

“And Mary Clare's okay? Physically? Emotionally?”

“Yes.” Merrilee's calm was a gift passed down from Grandma, two industrious ladies that refused to allow life to daunt them.

Like Meg, he realized.

“She's a little shaken from the adrenaline rush, but the Philadelphia Police Department stepped in and took care of everything.”

“Mom, I—”

Merilee interrupted him before he got any further. “I'm going to tell you the same thing I told your father. If either one of you were handling this, I wouldn't be hopping on a plane or driving down to hold your hand. I'd expect you to follow police procedures, increase security—”

“And Mary Clare has already done that,” Danny admitted.

“Exactly. No one likes this kind of thing, but between the campus police and the P.P.D., the store is being well covered. And if we go charging in as though your sister can't handle this, it's a show of no confidence. She can't afford that.”

“But—”

“No buts.” The tap, tap, tap of a pencil said his mother's
mind was working furiously. “She's not in danger, she's just flustered. Let her sprout those wings, Danny. They got clipped last year when Christian died, but we need to do whatever it takes to bolster her. Not baby her.”

Danny bit back a sigh. His mother's wisdom was easier in word than deed, but she was right. He knew that. Still…

“Have you found a site for the tribute store, yet?”

He accepted the businesslike change of subject with grace. “I did. It's a perfect location, facing east in Wellsville on Main Street. You'll love it.”

“Excellent.”

“So. You'll keep me posted on the Philly situation?”

“Of course. And you keep us informed on the Wellsville deal. Have we cut a contract yet?”

“Tomorrow.”

A hint of relief colored her tone. “Good. Grandma's champing at the bit to come down there but I keep putting her off with work here, which hasn't been hard to do with you and your sister gone.”

“I've got the preliminary plans all set once I find a contractor, but that shouldn't be hard.”

“And if you've got a few days to come home, that's fine, Daniel. Once the site is purchased and the contractor in place, you really don't need to be there every day, do you?”

The fact that he wanted to be here every day wasn't something he would share with his mother just yet. “Not necessarily, but we'll see. I need to make sure everything goes smoothly. And you'll keep me updated about Mary Clare's status?”

“I will. Right now our job is to trust God, Mary Clare and the P.P.D.”

“I'm trying.”

She gave a short laugh, part lament. “Try harder. You and your father are wonderful men but too protective for your
own good. It's time to join us ladies in the new millennium, okay?”

“I get it, Mom.”

“Good. Love you.”

“You, too.” He hung up the phone, weighing her words. He knew his sister needed to step out on her own, but drug deals? Police? Elevated security?

Let go and let God.

That's what Grandma would say. She'd told him to trust God, a concept he'd neglected these past years, but after being surrounded by the peace and quiet of Jamison and Wellsville, and the outpouring of congenial people, he realized he was out of practice through his own fault, a situation he intended to change starting now.

Meg's lights were out, the candy store and ice cream window closed for the day.

He'd see her tomorrow. Apologize. Explain. She'd either forgive him for who he was or she wouldn't, but he couldn't let it slide any longer. With the store site chosen, word might get out. He wanted her to hear it from him. It was the least he could do.

D
anny Graham was really Daniel Graham Romesser, vice president in charge of Eastern Region marketing for Grandma Mary's Candies, one of the biggest and best candy conglomerates in the country.

Meg was still trying to digest that information the next morning, half wishing she hadn't looked him up on Google. But she had, and the idea that Grandma Mary's intended to build a store in Allegany County bit deep. She already worked night and day all summer and fall to offset the weaker months of winter. What would she have to do to survive with a competitor minutes away?

Fear clenched her heart. She'd worked hard to gain ground, to become a money-making enterprise. With one swipe of a pen, Danny Graham might wipe that all out. Small businesses operated on a thin profit margin, a concept pretty boys like him might not understand.

But Meg got it because she lived it. By the time she met Hannah to plan the week's fudge and cookie schedule in preparation for the onslaught of July festivals, she was ready to burst.

“You're sure?” Hannah hiked a sympathetic brow in Megan's direction as she set out fudge pans, checking off the list
in her hands as she went. “You didn't make a mistake? Pull up the wrong Danny Graham? It's not an uncommon name.”

“Yes, it's the right guy. I double-checked by going to Images, and there he was.” She didn't add that the shots of Danny in his corporate suit and tie were to-die-for or that the one with a very pretty girl in a great designer dress made her rue her full-length calicos.

Nope. Obviously Danny's other life encompassed a laundry list of things she wouldn't, shouldn't and couldn't afford to care about.

“You need to talk to him. Straighten this out. And he did tell you why he was in town.”

Meg hauled the big mixer bowl to the corner and began tossing in ingredients for molasses cookies, an old-fashioned town favorite at festival time. “Right. Yesterday. After spying on my store for weeks.”

“Spying?”

Meg shrugged, counting scoops of flour. “He might have been spying. We don't know.”

“If he was, I think he was checking out the girl, not the store.” Hannah offered her wise counsel while she inventoried ingredients stock for fudge production. “This is Grandma Mary's we're talking. They're huge.”

“Tell me something I don't know,” Meg grumped back. “And I can't believe he didn't tell me right off, let me know what he was here for. Of all the underhanded, low-down—”

“Mm-hmm.” Hannah kept her face pseudoserious as she stacked cooling racks on a bakery cart. “I'm minding my own business, but it's pretty funny to see two eligible, intelligent adults tiptoe around each other like adversaries in a boxing ring when their only crime is running similar businesses.”

“It's not funny, it's exasperating. Frustrating. Annoying.”

“I get it. You sure you guys can't entertain the option of a merger? Because it makes perfect sense to me.”

The thought of merging with Danny Graham had a special
ring to it, providing all the more reason to shut the thought down. Hadn't she gone into summer determined to put business first, and then there she was, willingly spinning on a romantic merry-go-round only to realize the ride was more like the bumper cars. Meg hated bumper cars.

“And kiss my independence goodbye?” She shook her head and set out cookie sheets with more vehemence than was absolutely necessary. “No way do I want to manage a store for someone else after I've worked so hard to build my own business. I can't imagine having to answer to corporate execs—”

“Like Danny.”

“Especially Danny.” Meg let aggravation tinge her tone purposely. “Being bossed around by a ‘silver spoon' who got handed his job and title from Mom and Dad isn't my idea of success.”

“Silver spoon?”

Oh, no.

Meg turned around and wished the floor could swallow her.

“You know who I am?”

“Daniel Graham Romesser, heir apparent to Grandma Mary's Candies? Yes. I checked you out on the internet last night. You could have told me that yesterday.”

“You didn't give me a chance, remember? You stomped off and slammed the door in my face.”

She huffed and turned back toward her work production area. “Hardly in your face when you were on the sidewalk.”

“Close enough.” He moved forward until Meg had to turn his way. Meet his gaze.

“I'm not a silver spoon, Meg, and for your information…” He stepped closer, looking none too pleased and more than a little insulted. “…I've worked my way up the chain of command at Grandma Mary's after completing a business degree
at Wharton, so the thought that I've been handed anything by anyone is ludicrous.”

“Wharton's a great school,” Hannah acknowledged. “I went to Penn, so we might have been neighbors.”

Meg appreciated Hannah's attempt to normalize the situation, but she'd dug her own hole. Now to figure a way out of it—

“I didn't mean to insult you.”

“But you did.”

“Danny, get serious.”

He folded his arms, the standoff obvious. “I'm quite serious.”

“You were born into a family with an existing business that already had multi-million-dollar sales. It grew exponentially while you were a kid. Can you deny that you walked into a pretty solid situation? Really?”

He stared at her, then swept her store a studied look. “You know, I've admired what you've done here from the first moment I set foot in the place. Your eye for balance, for placement, the quality and quantities, the balance of ice cream versus chocolate and cookies. It's all wonderful and indicative of a keen business sense, but—” he moved closer “—it might be nice—” closer yet “—to have a little respect come my way in return. Just because you built yourself from the ground up doesn't negate what I've done for my family business. And you know what, Meg?”

Looking up into eyes that had gone from sunset gray to Pittsburgh steel, she shook her head.

“I get that you've been burned. I get that you've got issues with guys, but none of that gives you the right to insult me or my family business. That's just plain low.”

“I'm sorry.”

He shook his head, stepped back, hands up, palms out. “Right. Well, here's what we'll do, Meg. Let's just forget this conversation ever happened, okay? I'll let myself out,
I'll spend the remainder of my weeks here as little as possible and pretty soon this will just be another summer laid to rest.”

His words stammered her heart, her gut. Or was it the look that said she'd gone irrevocably over the top this time?

She watched him leave and tried to calm the adrenaline rush and the ensuing speeded-up pulse, but with Hannah darting sympathetic looks her way, it proved impossible.

Hannah jerked her thumb toward the door. “I've got to head to the library. I'll be back at five. You're good?”

“Crystal will be here to run the counter any minute. We're fine, thanks.”

Hannah's look asked more than her words, but Meg couldn't address either right now, not and maintain her composure after what just happened.

She'd insulted Danny and his family with her quick words. She'd maligned his integrity in a bout of self-absorbed anger, and Danny Graham had just quietly walked out of her life. Since the experience wasn't exactly new, why on Earth did it hurt this much? She barely knew the guy, right?

Quiet surrounded her once Hannah left, leaving her too much time to mull, even with the big mixer blending molasses cookie dough. Speaking of which…

Meg turned, shut off the mixer, pressed the clutch and changed the speed before setting the timer at five minutes. Two more batches and she'd be done mixing for the day, then the rote work of filling cookie trays by hand would keep her hopping as she produced hundreds of cookies in her smallish ovens.

Grasping the garbage bag, she tied the top, hoisted it and headed to the small Dumpster out back, her attention torn between the heavy bag listing her right and wanting to know if Danny's car was gone, hoping to avoid another confrontation.

She missed the bottom step completely, stepping off into
air, the heavy bag wrenching her right while her left arm groped for the handrail with no success.

The crack of forearm bone followed by a fiery shot of pain to her shoulder and neck made her cry out, but since no one was around to hear, it really didn't make all that much difference.

 

Danny glared at the seat beside him, realizing he'd left his cell phone at the apartment. He made a K-turn on a quiet side road and retraced his path north, trying to make sense of his anger and Meg's disparagement and coming up short.

Sure she had a right to be irritated and concerned, but ridiculing him and the family business struck low. Could he help his birthright? His family?

Ridiculous.

Working your way up when your last name matches the company's owners might not be as tough as you make out, dude.

The internal reminder struck a chord. That
had
played a part in his success. For decades he'd been groomed to become an executive, then owner of the family business. His parents' work ethic became his, but he had the incentive of a large corporation falling into his lap at some point in time.

Meg was right about the circumstance, but wrong about her analogy. He hadn't been, nor ever would be, a silver spoon.

He pulled into the stone drive on his side of the house, jumped out of the car, glad that Hannah had left, embarrassed that she'd witnessed the heated exchange he had with Meg. He was more than ready to grab his phone and be on his way when a small sound drew his attention to the backyard. He headed around the corner and spotted Meg on the ground, the garbage bag off to the side, the sheen of tears and pain unmistakable.

Fear grabbed his heart.

“Hey, hey, hey, Megs.” He half crooned the words at a dead
run. He dropped to her side and slipped an arm around her shoulders to hold her, cradle her. “What happened? Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

The wince when he touched her right arm provided all the evidence he needed. “Oh, Meg.”

She buried her face into his shirt, and he tried to pretend it didn't feel absolutely wonderful to have her there, despite the reason why, that it didn't feel like the most natural thing in the world to hold her, cherish her, comfort her.

He allowed himself a few moments, but knew they didn't have time to revel in these feelings. Meg needed medical help. “Come on, honey, let's get you up.” He stood and braced his hands around her waist, lifting her to her feet.

Crystal Murphy appeared at the back door. “Hey, Meg.” One glance had her opening the door with a bang. “Meg, are you all right? Are you okay?”

Danny kept an arm snugged around Meg's waist and shook his head. “She's hurt. I'm going to run her down to Jones Memorial, see what's up. But from the look of it—” he nodded where Meg's right arm took a decidedly awkward turn “—I'm guessing we've got a broken arm.”

“We?”

Danny met the pained but still slightly stubborn look Meg shot him and nodded. “Friends share their successes and their problems.”

Friends?

Meg heard the word and thought back to the moment before time and space disappeared from under her feet, her attention split because she'd hurt Danny, and the last thing she wanted to do was hurt Danny.

She looked up at Crystal. “Can you cover the dough that just finished in the big mixer?”

Crystal nodded. “Of course.”

“It'll be fine until I get back, and then I'll mix up the other
varieties.” She hesitated, frowned, then shrugged. “Right now I'm wishing I'd trained you on baking cookies.”

Crystal grimaced. “I could try, but…”

“We'll worry about this when we get back,” Danny told them both. “Let's get to the hospital, find out how bad it is and then we'll attack the work schedule. Hannah's working tonight, right?”

“Yes.”

“And your parents are both at work.”

She nodded, biting her lip to stave off tears, the pain in her arm shooting upward. “Yes.”

“Well, then it's lucky you've got Crystal and me.”

Right then Meg wasn't feeling all that lucky. Her right arm throbbed in protest as she lowered herself into his car.

But she couldn't deny how good it felt to have Danny run to her rescue, take charge, hold her and help her. Jane Austen couldn't have scripted this better, so she'd have to work double time to remember why falling for Danny was a bad idea.

Right now he was a dream come true, his gaze focused on the road before them when he wasn't casting concerned glances her way with every bump and wiggle. “You're doing okay?”

“Fine.”

She wasn't close to fine, the pain a fiery torment even with her left hand cushioning her right arm from movement. Glancing down, she prayed it wasn't broken, maybe twisted or sprained, a setback of a couple of days, a week maximum.

The remembered snap of bone said she was wrong.

She prayed she was right, because if her arm was broken, she'd have to pay someone else to help with production. That option would just about erase her winter cushion of funds.

Morning traffic and a construction project on Route 19 slowed their progress. Danny glared at a red light in a small town, his fingers tapping the steering column, annoyed. Meg
swept the drumming fingers a pointed glance. “Are you this impatient when you drive in New York? Or Philly?”

He sent her a little smile as if appreciating the change of subject. “No. Yes. Maybe. I'm not usually taking a beautiful girl to the emergency room, so comparisons are unfair.”

“Thank you.”

He arched a brow, inquisitive, his gaze on the road, the traffic commanding his attention.