Project Love (Cascade Brides Series) (16 page)

Thinking about her would not help him with the talking
points he needed to memorize. There had been some managemental
missteps with the water project and the press was trying to make hay
out of it. Which meant the press conferences were becoming less
friendly and more acrimonious. And that was saying something because
they'd never actually been friendly in the first place.

A short brunette walked in the art-glass door and for a
moment the breath caught in his throat. Except the woman wasn't
Charity. Of course it wasn't. She had her own coffee shop. Her own
life.

A life that didn't include him.

He scowled at the
paperwork in his hand.
If only I could get her to admit
what was really troubling her. It's got to be more than feeling
uncomfortable at a care home. A lot of people felt that way
.

What about her sisters?
Were they really monsters? He'd done a cursory Internet search but
couldn't find anything. Perhaps her childhood had included some kind
of abuse. The papers crumpled in his fist. That meant she needed
people. She needed
him
,
even more. So how to get her to open up?

One thing was for certain, he wasn't just going to give
up. Even if it meant he'd lose her friendship in the process. What
good were his attempts at bringing hope to people's lives when the
one person he cared for the most was hurting?

Another customer entered the shop—a blonde woman.
Daniel straightened. He knew that face. It was Charity's co-worker
from Rose City Java. His heart skipped a beat. What was her name?
Amy?

Amy ambled to the counter as if she were just another
customer. When her gaze caught his, she winked.

Daniel quickly looked away. What did that mean? Was she
flirting with him? Spying on him at Charity's behest?

Either way, highly doubtful.

Amy ordered a coffee to go. As she waited, she scanned
the shop—which was a cover because she looked over at him once
again. This time Daniel searched her face for some clue as to why she
was there, but she turned away and accepted her cup of coffee before
he could discern anything.

A minute later, Amy headed toward his table, her eyes on
the front door. But before reaching the door, she said, “Charity
misses you.”

Then she was gone.

Daniel leaned back in his chair, unsure how to process
the encounter. If Charity missed him, she knew how to find him. And
if logic didn't make her see reason, maybe a little absence would
make her heart grow fond.

Or not. He blew out a sigh and decided to swing by the
drug store after work. He could grab something for his worsening
headache.

Too bad there wasn't a cure for stubborn females.

***

“
So where's Daniel been? I need to talk to him about
my paintings.”

Charity slumped against the door of her apartment after
work and stared at the Tasmanian Devil slippers gracing Holly's feet.
“I can't take anyone seriously who wears those things.”

The redhead glanced down at her footwear. “Hey, what's
wrong with the Taz?”

Blowing out a haggard sigh, Charity headed to her room.

“
I asked you a question.”

“
And I don't feel like talking to someone who wears
cartoon characters on their feet.”

“
You're not supposed to judge me,” Holly said in a
thin little voice. “That was part of the deal of you being my
roommate. No judging.”

Charity closed the door of her room and sagged onto her
bed.

“
I guess I know why Daniel hasn't been around,”
Holly yelled from the other side of the door. “You scared him off!”

Flopping onto the
mattress, Charity threw an arm over her eyes.
All I need to
make this day complete is for my roommate to be on Daniel's side
.
This is what happens when someone is 'drawn out'. Ugh
.

Her co-workers weren't helping either. After Amy's
abrupt disappearance from the shop, later she'd returned and had
huddled with Jessie, whispering while shooting looks over their
shoulders.

Then Jessie had taken Charity aside. “Girl, you've
scared off a customer right to our competition. That's the opposite
of what you're supposed to be doing.”

She'd stared at her boss with a fulminating expression.
“I can't control where people get their coffee.”

“
He's a minor local celebrity. His presence brings
caché to our shop.”

“
Who?” she asked with all innocence.

“
You know who.”

Charity was tempted to
tell him what he could do with his
caché
but she kept her lips sealed.

Jessie crossed his arms. “You need to make up with
him.”

“
My personal life is none of your business.”

“
Customers
are
my business. Stop running them off.”

Instead of a snarky comeback about the inferiority of
their pastries driving away customers, she'd grabbed a rag and
started wiping down the tables, mumbling under her breath about
looking for another job.

Later Amy had pulled her aside and told her Jessie was
more worried about her than anything. He wanted her happy again. If
Daniel made her happy, then the customers would be happy. So really,
he was just concerned for her welfare more than anything.

Uh, huh
.

After a period of
annoyance in the knowledge that Jessie had sent Amy to spy on Daniel,
Charity had wanted to ask Amy how Daniel seemed. Down? Depressed?
Maybe he'd been jaunty.
No, he's never jaunty
.
Sweetly serious, bemused, adorable...but no, not jaunty
.

Hoisting herself to a sitting position on the bed, she
wondered what to do over the weekend now that church and the care
home were not on the schedule.

Then she remembered the fund-raiser.

Charity scooted off the bed and slid the file folder
from her nightstand. As she flipped it open and perused the contents,
her heart panged in her chest when she saw Daniel's nearly illegible
handwriting. She really, really missed the man.

But I did the right thing.

I know I did
.

She grabbed a pen from the drawer.

And now I know how I'll be spending my Saturday
.

***

The clock on the old stove clicked loudly in the silence
of the apartment. Charity sat at the kitchen bar, flipping idly
through a recipe book featuring pastries. She'd bought it a couple of
weeks back thinking she could try out some recipes with Daniel as her
taste-tester.

Me and my brilliant ideas
.

Holly was in her room, banging around and grumbling as
she apparently worked on her latest artistic opus.

Closing the recipe book, Charity slid the folder over
and opened it up. The contents were a bit thicker than before, but
that was because she'd finished every task, completed every phone
call, updated the website, and made every arrangement that she'd said
she would. And it had taken twelve hours and a trip to the library
yesterday to do it.

I follow through, that's why. I'm not a flake. Not
totally
.

She grimaced and checked the clock. It was almost two.
She planned to meet Daniel before he went into the care home so she
could hand him the folder and go back to her...wonderful life. He
didn't know about the meeting. Telling him about the plan meant she
couldn't back out at the last moment.

And she needed that
option because as the minute hand ticked its way around the
clock-face, her stomach kept twisting within her like a pretzel.
If
there was any other way I could do this, I would
.
The only alternative was to leave the folder at the front desk where
he worked, but she'd be looked on with suspicion, especially with his
fans sending love letters and flowers to the firm.

At least that's what they said on TV.

No, handing off the folder while he'll be distracted
about his visit with Evelyn is best. He won't have time to talk
because he told me he's never been late for his appointment with her.
Never
.

Holly's room door banged open making Charity jump.

“
My paintings for the auction are done. I glazed them
last night. What do you think?”

Charity stared at the redhead, who stood in a ratty robe
which hung open, revealing a purple tank top and flower patterned
boxer shorts. “Are they invisible?”

“
Huh?”

“
Your paintings?”

Holly rolled her eyes. “Ha ha, you're a laugh a
minute. You'll need to come into my room to see them in the north
light. I took photos that I need to get to Daniel.”

Charity slid from the chair, surprised Holly would allow
her in her room. The bedroom was Off Limits and had been since day
one. Once more, she was tempted to make a snarky comment, but
remembering her conversation with Daniel about reaching out to Holly
stopped her.

The redhead's room was pretty much what Charity had
imagined. The bed and nightstand were merely afterthoughts in a space
littered with canvases of various sizes, photographs taped to the
walls, brushes and rolled tubes of paint strewn over every flat
surface, and several easels sporting large paintings.

“
It's these two here,” Holly said, waving at a pair
of easels facing the windows.

Charity stepped gingerly around a rolling stool, a stack
of folded easels, and an overflowing laundry basket.

What she saw surprised her. At first she thought she was
looking at abstract colors and shapes, but slowly images began to
coalesce. One painting showed an offset red Japanese maple back-lit
by a setting sun, surrounded on one side by an arched stone bridge
over a shimmering stream of water. The other painting portrayed a
giraffe head peeking from a curtain of green leaves. Below it was a
baby giraffe. Both paintings had been done in a blocky
impressionistic style that reminded her of dappled light and shade.

“
I'm calling it the 'Portland Series' and plan a few
more. But the auction will get these two. I figured the muckety-mucks
would probably like this subject matter better than my usual abstract
stuff.”

“
They're beautiful, Holly,” Charity said, feeling
rather amazed. “Now I know how you make rent every month.”

“
You're hilarious,” she said dryly. “Do you think
Daniel will like them?”

“
I know he will.”

Holly's brows went up.
“You know him well for only being together a few weeks. Where has
he been lately anyway?” When Charity didn't answer, she continued.
“Oh, that's right, you got in a fight with him about
scones
.”

Charity sent her a pointed look. “You can let him know
they're ready.”

“
I don't have his number.”

“
I'm sure you'll
figure something out since, you know, I apparently scared him off.”
Snark deployed. Oops
.

Holly huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “Fine.
Be that way.”

“
Okay,” Charity said cheerfully. “Lovely work.”
Then she left the room, and after shoving her arms into her jacket,
she slid the fund-raiser folder into a manila envelope and headed out
the door.

Clumping down four flights of stairs didn't improve her
mood any. Neither did the silvery drizzle which greeted her outside.
A cloudy gray mantle had settled over the city, bringing with it a
damp and chill she had yet to get used to. Huddling into her coat,
she headed to the care home, which was six blocks away.

By the time she reached
the brick and white trim building, her angst had failed to cool. It
was hard to get past the fact that everyone assumed she was at fault
for Daniel's absence. Well, technically, maybe she was, but
still
.
She didn't go around clucking her tongue at others in the midst of
their
relationship
woes. So it rankled when she was on the receiving end.

It's for his own good
,
she reminded herself.
Once I hand off this folder, the
Daniel Tabor chapter of my life will be closed for good
.
But it took several deep breaths to calm her ricocheting emotions.

Charity stamped her feet against the cold, wondering
where Daniel was. She glanced at the small parking lot but didn't see
his car. Frowning, she scanned the street, hoping to see the Camry
making its way to the facility.

After another five
minutes, she checked her phone. It was twenty minutes past his usual
meeting time.
Maybe he came early?
She twisted around and peered through the glass doors.
Maybe
he parked somewhere else and is already inside?