In Firefly Valley (20 page)

It was a clever move, the sure way to a mother's heart, but Marisa knew better than to say that. She had to say something, though, for her friend was waiting, and so she cautioned, “Be careful, Lauren. I don't want you to be hurt.”

Marisa wasn't sure what game Drew Carroll was playing, but she couldn't picture him staying in Dupree and making Lauren happy. The man had “playboy” practically tattooed on his forehead. He was intrigued by Lauren, probably because she was so different from the women he'd dated in California, but that didn't mean he was looking for a permanent relationship.

Lauren shook her head. “You don't need to worry, Marisa. My head knows Drew and I have no future. Now all I have to do is convince my heart.”

It was too late for that. Lauren might think otherwise, but Marisa had seen her this way once before. She looked the way she had the day she met Patrick—head over heels in love. The only thing Marisa
could do was hope that Drew was sincere and that he would not hurt Lauren.

Taking another sip of coffee, Marisa tried to settle her thoughts. There must be something in the air, or perhaps it was in the water, but it seemed as if Dupree had more than its share of happy couples. Kate and Greg, Kate's grandmother and Roy Gordon. Mom and Eric had a good chance at a reconciliation, and now Lauren and Drew were talking about love. That only left Marisa. She had no happy endings in sight.

Blake scowled as he looked at the fragrant flowers. It had been three weeks since Marisa refused the candy he brought her. He had thought her anger would have subsided by now, and so he'd decided to try again. This time he'd ordered a dozen yellow roses. Not only were they the quintessential Texas flower, but he thought they'd be a pleasant reminder of the skits she'd directed for Rainbow's End's grand reopening celebration. No Texan could resist yellow roses, or so he'd thought. But he'd been wrong. This time there'd been no anger, just quiet determination as she said, “No, thank you,” and ushered him out of her office.

“She didn't like the flowers?”

Blake turned, startled by the man's voice. When Marisa had closed the door in his face, Blake had left the building, not sure what to do next. He'd thought about leaving the flowers in the lobby but figured Marisa might not appreciate that. Perhaps he should offer them to her friend Lauren.

He was standing in the parking lot, ambivalent, when he heard the man. Though he hadn't expected anyone to see him, once again he'd been wrong. Marisa's father stood only a yard away, his expression telling Blake he knew what had happened.

“I'm not sure the flowers were at fault,” he admitted. “She doesn't like me very much.”

“I know the feeling.” The older man extended his hand for a shake. “I'm Eric St. George.”

“And I'm Blake Kendall.” Though his graying hair and the lines that creased his face made him look far older than the fifty-five Blake knew Eric to be, his handshake was as firm as a young man's.

“I haven't seen you around much, but it's good to meet you,” Marisa's father said, leading the way to the small gazebo. When they were seated, Eric continued. “For what it's worth, Carmen believes Marisa will come around eventually. Personally, I'm not so sure, but I figure she's got a better chance of forgiving you for whatever it is she thinks you've done than of patching up matters with her old man.”

Blake wasn't certain what surprised him more, Eric's candor or the quiet despair in his voice. All he knew was that his heart ached at the man's pain. Though he'd been consumed by his book, the rare breaks Blake had allowed himself had focused on Marisa and her relationship with the men who cared for her. Her refusal of the roses left him no doubt about her feelings for him, but he'd been praying that she would open her heart to her father.

Blake focused on Eric's words. Since the man didn't strike him as a Pollyanna, perhaps his guarded optimism had a solid basis.

“I'd like to believe that, so even though I doubt it, I'm going to defer to your judgment. After all, you know her better than I do.”

Though Eric had been leaning against the back of the bench, he bent forward and shook his head. “That's where you're wrong. I remember the girl Marisa used to be. She loved to ride a bike, swing as high as she could, and she'd read
Anne of Green Gables
so often she almost had it memorized. The young woman she's become is a stranger. She doesn't even look all that much like my daughter.”

Eric fixed his gaze on Blake and nodded slowly, as if he approved of something he'd seen. “If you're wondering why I'm telling you this, it's not just because misery loves company. If there's one thing I learned at AA, it's that people with the same problem need to help each other.”

Blake had had the same thought the day he'd learned of Eric's past. “I don't know how to get her to listen to me,” he admitted.

“Me, neither.”

“So, what do we do?”

“We keep praying and we get through it, one day at a time.”

L
auren frowned at the low-bobbin warning light, hoping there would be enough thread to finish this seam. The quilt she was piecing was turning out well. Unfortunately, she couldn't say the same about the rest of her life. It had been two and a half days since her dinner with Drew—two days, thirteen hours, and forty-three minutes to be precise—and she hadn't heard a word from him. At first, Lauren had been puzzled. Though they hadn't made any specific plans that night, she had thought he would come into the shop the next day or at least call her. But he hadn't. Now, though she hated to admit it, she was afraid that Marisa was right: Lauren was nothing but a brief diversion. All that talk of love, marriage, and a future together had been a lie. Lauren frowned again. She should have trusted her instincts and not let herself believe in second chances.

When the doorbell tinkled, she switched off the sewing machine and pushed back her chair. “I'll be with you in a second.”

“Don't rush. I'm not going anywhere.”

Lauren swiveled, hoping her shock wasn't apparent. The voice sent tremors up her spine, and her pulse began to race. “Drew!” The man she thought had disappeared from her life was back,
grinning as if he'd never left. “What are you doing here? I thought you went home to California.”

He stood in front of the counter, looking for all the world as if he belonged there. Perhaps because of the cold front that had come through, leaving the air cooler than in California, he wore a khaki jacket over his casual shirt. Otherwise, Drew looked exactly like the man who'd come into HCP on Tuesday.

“I did go to California,” he admitted, amusement coloring his blue eyes. “But, as you can see, I'm like the proverbial bad penny. You can't get rid of me.”

Lauren lowered her gaze as she tried to make sense of his statement. He'd left without a word, and now he was back, acting as if nothing had changed.

“I don't understand.”

His smile made that handsome face all the more appealing. “Sure you do,” he countered. “I told you what I wanted, and I'm not a guy to give up.”

He'd said he wanted to marry her, but that couldn't be what he meant. Or could it? The look Drew gave her made Lauren's pulse accelerate again. He was gazing at her as if she was the most beautiful woman on earth, when she was nothing more than a single mom trying to make a living and raise her daughter.

“I realized I was moving too fast,” Drew continued, “so I want to start over. Forget the whirlwind romance. We'll go slowly this time. When you say yes, I don't want there to be any doubts.”

Say yes. The man was talking about marriage. Lauren hadn't imagined Tuesday night or the fact that Drew had seemed as attracted to her as she was to him.

He glanced at his watch, a gold Rolex that had probably cost more than Lauren earned in a year. “I'm sorry for the short notice, but I wondered if you and Fiona would have supper with me tonight.”

She blinked. “You're inviting both of us?”

“That's what I said. It won't be fancy, because I'm cooking, but
if you're feeling generous, maybe you'll give me some hints about decorating my new place.”

The world was definitely spinning faster than it had five minutes ago. That was the only way Lauren could explain the dizziness that made her clutch the edge of the counter.

“Wait a minute,” she said, hoping her voice didn't sound as confused as she felt. “Back up. What do you mean, your new place?”

This time there was no doubt about Drew's smile. It radiated satisfaction. “It seems the grapevine doesn't move as fast as I feared. You're looking at Dupree's newest resident.”

“You're joking.”

“Nope. I couldn't picture myself spending more than a couple nights at Rainbow's End, so I looked for something more permanent. I'm renting a place on Live Oak. It's only a block or so from your house.”

Lauren felt as if she'd fallen down Alice in Wonderland's rabbit hole. This was becoming curiouser and curiouser. As far as she knew, only one house on Live Oak was for rent. “That's the old St. George house,” she told Drew. “That's where Carmen and Marisa used to live.” And Eric, of course.

Drew shrugged. “If you say so. I won't dispute the old part. The realtor told me it had mid-century charm, which roughly translated means no one had the money to update it. That's why I'd appreciate your decorating help.”

He sounded as if he were planning to stay. Lauren swallowed deeply, trying to imagine what it would be like having Drew practically around the corner from her.

“What about your job?”

He shrugged as if the need to earn a paycheck was of no account. “That's not an issue. Now, can I pick you up at six?”

Though her head was whirling at the possibility of Drew living so close, Lauren shook it. “It's less than a five-minute walk.” The year they'd both gotten watches for Christmas, she and Marisa
had timed the walk and had discovered that it took two minutes and thirty-seven seconds at their normal pace.

“All right. We'll skip the chauffeur service, but you'll still come, won't you?”

Lauren nodded.

Blake never took breaks like this when he was in the middle of a manuscript, but ever since Eric St. George had mentioned Marisa's childhood fascination with
Anne of Green Gables
, Blake had found himself wondering whether he'd find a clue to her in the book. He'd downloaded a copy and had spent more hours than he should have reading the adventures of a red-haired girl with a vivid imagination and a quick temper.

What he'd read hadn't encouraged him. If Anne had held a grudge against Gilbert for years—years!—just because he teased her about her hair, how long would it take Marisa to forgive him for creating a hero who drank? There were some questions a man shouldn't ask.

“It'll be boring,” Fiona whined as Lauren ushered her daughter toward the front door. She had been complaining ever since Lauren had told her they were having supper with Drew. It seemed that the allure of the DVD he'd given her had worn off and Fiona was back to disliking Drew. That did not bode well for the evening or for any future Lauren might have with him.

“There won't be anyone for me to play with,” Fiona continued.

“There's no one for you to play with here, either.”

“Yeah, but I have my books and toys here. I don't have to listen to you and Aunt Marisa talk grown-up talk.”

Her point was valid. “All right,” Lauren conceded. “You can take a book with you.”

When Fiona scampered into her room to select a book, Lauren
sighed. The truth was, she was more nervous about this evening than she had been about her official date with Drew, because tonight involved Fiona. Fiona, Lauren's wonderful but whiny daughter, the girl who wanted a new daddy but didn't consider Drew a contender for that role.

Lauren, too, had reservations about Drew as a possible stepfather. He had admitted that he had little experience with children and that it had been a colleague's advice that had led to the DVD purchase. Tonight would be more challenging. There'd be no colleague to coach him on the art of conversation with a child.

Apparently pacified by the fact that she had her favorite book clutched in her hand, Fiona grumbled only a few times as they walked to Drew's new home. Lauren felt apprehensive as they climbed the front steps. She'd done that hundreds of times when Marisa had lived here, but tonight was different. Very different.

Within seconds of their knocking, Drew opened the door. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

The front door opened directly into the living room, the place where Lauren and Marisa had watched TV and played games. Lauren looked around, cataloging the differences. The St. Georges' furniture was gone, replaced by what Lauren would call motel-modern. The walls that had once sported fading wallpaper were now painted the off-white decorators advised for rental property, and the floor was covered with industrial carpeting chosen for its durability rather than its style. A quick glance into the kitchen revealed that nothing had been upgraded, although the avocado appliances had been spray painted white, as had the oak cabinets. Everything about the once charming house now shrieked low budget.

“I don't imagine your home in California looks like this.” Lauren envisioned sleek furniture, lots of stainless steel and granite, expansive views of either the ocean or the mountains. This shabby little bungalow was the antithesis of Drew Carroll.

He shrugged as if the humble surroundings didn't bother him. “Not quite, but it'll do for the present.”

“Speaking of which, we brought you a housewarming present.” She handed him the gift bag.

“She let me pick it out,” Fiona declared, her pride evident in the way she straightened her shoulders.

Drew gave her a conspiratorial smile. “Then I know I'll like it.” He reached into the bag and pulled out a set of quilted coasters, each featuring one of the six flags that had flown over Texas.

When Kate had approached Lauren with the idea of selling merchandise at Rainbow's End, Lauren had designed a series of coaster sets. Since they were smaller than a pillow and more affordable than a full-sized quilt, she'd hoped they would appeal to the resort's guests, and they had. Marisa had reported that they were currently the bestselling item at the gift shop.

“Mom thought you might like cowboy boots, but I figured these were better,” Fiona told Drew.

“You figured right, Fiona. I'm not a boot man.” As if to prove his point, he extended one loafer-clad foot. “Thank you both. Of course, you do know that I won't ever use these.”

“Why not?” Fiona seemed to think that the comment had been directed at her.

“I might get them dirty.”

She shook her head and wagged a finger at him. “You're silly, Mr. Drew. That's what washing machines are for.”

He thumped his forehead in mock dismay. “Duh! I should have known that.”

Fiona's giggle told Lauren her fears had been ungrounded. Somehow Drew had known exactly the right way to approach Fiona, and her daughter was now as charmed by Drew as she was.

The question was how long it would be before the charm wore off for Drew. Fiona could be demanding, and when she was in a snit, there were times when even Lauren did not want to be with her. She wouldn't be surprised if Drew discovered that a seven-year-old child was more than he'd bargained for and he left Dupree as suddenly as he'd arrived. What Lauren feared most was the effect
that might have on her daughter. It was one thing for Lauren to have a broken heart, but she couldn't let Drew hurt Fiona.