Smitten (3 page)
Natalie moved to the podium, and the screen behind her illuminated. The picture that came up showed Smitten, but a very different one from the rough lumber town that now existed. Was that a skating rink? Carson studied the screen, intrigued by the picture-perfect town.
“We’ve all heard the jokes about our town’s name, but it could be the thing that saves us.” She turned to look up at the screen. “We can cater to lovers, honeymooners, those celebrating their anniversaries. We’ll have love songs playing in the streets, encourage more businesses that accommodate couples.”
Carson shot to his feet to object, but before he could voice his opposition, others got in ahead of him. The town meeting buzzed with excitement as voters threw out ideas on how to make this idea credible. Terms he’d never associated with his town were bandied about. Terms like spa, candle shop,
lingerie shop
of all things. It was insane.
He finally got the mic. “We don’t need a new marketing plan. We need a new industry.” He glared at Natalie, who leveled a stare back from calm brown eyes. She’d done this on purpose just to rile him. He knew it.
“But don’t you see—this
is
a new industry. It’s tourism, one of the best kinds. Instead of the mill ruling our lives, we’ll be in charge.”
“It’s a good idea,” Harold Warren shouted from the back of the room. “We can sell our town. I’ve lived my whole life here, and I don’t want to leave.”
“Me neither,” a woman’s voice chimed in. “We’ll need a publicist. I can help with that.”
Someone else volunteered to be on a task force. In spite of Carson’s resistance, the proposal went to a vote and passed. All around him he heard people laying plans for how they could contribute to the idea. He couldn’t believe it. Grabbing his jacket, he stormed from the building. Out in the town square he sank onto a park bench and rubbed his forehead. How could they jump on such a crazy idea so quickly? Love capital. Good grief. They’d be the laughingstock of Vermont.
A female voice spoke behind him. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
He looked around to see Natalie standing behind the bench with her navy peacoat in her hand. She was the last person he wanted to talk to. “I think you’ve said it all,” he said.
She ignored his comment and joined him on the bench. A light scent, something flowery, wafted from her hair. He nearly rose and walked away, but courtesy demanded he at least hear her out.
“It’s clear you hate the idea,” she said.
“You’re getting people excited about an idea that won’t work. We’re not a touristy town. We’re blue-collar workers. We need another plant, maybe a furniture manufacturer. Something we can
sell
.”
“Think about it, Carson. This is totally unique. People will eat it up. What else do we have going for us?” Her voice held excitement.
He struggled to ignore her enthusiasm. She’d always been persuasive. “Recreational stuff like skiing, hunting, and fishing. We can work on that.” He glanced at her. Big mistake.
She leaned toward him on the bench. “We’ve worked on that for years. It’s no secret your fishing cabins are only half full most of the year. And you’re practically running your hardware store by yourself.”
He winced. “We can brainstorm ways to do a better job.”
“We’ve tried that. There’s too much competition, even here in Vermont. But no one else is doing this. No one else
can
do it. We have the name and the great setting. All we need is to work together.”
“It’s
my
town, Natalie. My ancestor built Smitten. I’m not going to stand back and watch you make a joke of it.”
She nodded toward the hall. “The meeting is breaking up, and I have another appointment. Let’s talk at the coffee shop when you come by in the morning. I have some ideas to discuss with you. Please.”
“No, Natalie, you’re wrong about it. All of it.” Just as she was wrong about him and her sister.
Her hand touched his. “Come on, Carson, I’m not going to bite. What do you have to lose?” She bit her lip. “I know Mia is an issue between us.”
“She’s only an issue because it’s clear you believe your sister’s lies,” he shot back. “And what makes you think you know what’s best for this town?”
Her dark eyes studied him. “Just because you’re a Smitten doesn’t mean you’re the only one who cares about this place. Can’t you put our differences aside and work with me for the good of the town?”
Good of the town? When she put it like that, it made him sound like he was being petty. Which he wasn’t. She just didn’t know what was good for the town. This was his town, passed down from the original Carson Smitten in the 1700s. If he had a prayer of saving Smitten, he had to derail this crazy plan.
“No thanks,” he said.
Her dark eyes widened, then thick lashes shuttered the disappointment in them. She’d thought he’d agree, hadn’t she? She’d clearly thought she could convince him.
N
atalie held Mia’s hand as she led her to the children’s area in the back of the coffee shop. “You play here for a little while, honey. I’ve got a meeting.”
Mia sat down at the low table. “Can I make a wreath?”
Ever since Aunt Rose had taught them how to decorate a Christmas wreath from ready-made grapevine wreaths, Mia had made one every week. The Easter wreath adorning the town clock was the little girl’s creation as well. And it was while helping her niece make that wreath that Natalie had first decided she wanted to change their relationship. The three of them had been sitting at a table in front of the fire, and Natalie had looked at her aunt Rose and Mia with their heads bent together. In that moment she’d known this was what she was supposed to do. It was time she quit looking over her shoulder for Lisa to show up.
Natalie smiled. “I’d like that, honey. I’ll be right over there.” She pointed to the seating area.
Her stomach was jittering with the beat of Ben King crooning “Stand by Me” that was playing from the speakers, and she shot up a quick prayer for help. What had she been thinking when she decided to ambush Carson this morning when he came in for his coffee? Last night it had seemed a good idea to let him meet Mia and talk to him about the town at the same time.
The bell on the shop door tinkled, and Carson’s broad shoulders blocked the sunlight. No wonder Lisa had lost all sense. The man was downright gorgeous. No one could have muscles like that and not work out, but Reese said she’d never seen him at the gym. Maybe he had barbells at home.
Natalie told Zoe she could take a break, then stepped to the counter to wait on Carson herself. At least the shop wasn’t full of customers. Carson tended to stop by after the first rush was over.
His extremely male presence made her want to back away, but she held her ground. “Black coffee?”
He nodded. “You’re running the place yourself today?”
“Zoe’s on break.” She poured him coffee and slid it across the counter to him. “My treat.” She pushed his two dollars back into his hand. “Any new thoughts about our plan after sleeping on it?”
He eyed her over the top of his steaming cup. “A little sleep isn’t going to make it logical. You’ve got the whole town talking about it. I stopped by the bank this morning, and the manager mentioned two people had already been in to apply for business loans.”
She nodded. “Bet Ellie Draper was there to get her fudge shop up and running.” The woman had been making fudge as long as Natalie could remember. It was about time she turned it into a career.
“How’d you know?”
“She mentioned it when she got her coffee this morning. She’ll be right next door. We’re going to do a joint café area outside.”
“You’ve got it all figured out,” he said. “But I’ve got my own ideas. We need something that isn’t a pipe dream. There are leading manufacturers who are scouting for towns where taxes are low and workers are abundant. I’m working on figuring out some incentives to offer. That will save us. Not making a mockery of our name.”
“Aunt Nat?” Mia stood at her feet, holding a grapevine wreath covered with dried lavender and baby’s breath. “I have my wreath done.”
Natalie sneaked a peek at Carson’s granite jaw. Surely he’d see how cute Mia was, with her dark curls and dimples. Carson was staring at her, or maybe at Mia. Natalie couldn’t tell. “This is Mia,” she said. “Say hello to Mr. Carson, Mia.”
“Hello,” the little girl said.
Natalie’s brown eyes studied him. “Is the wreath for me?” she asked Mia.
Mia nodded, her dimples flashing. “It’s for the door of the coffee shop. Aunt Rose said the wreath means forever and ever. I want Smitten to always be here. So I want to put up a wreath to show God we know he’s going to take care of us.”
Natalie stared at the slightly lopsided wreath. “That’s very sweet, honey.” Oh, the faith of a little child. Even Natalie wasn’t sure this would work. She
hoped
it would, but that was as far as it went.
“Can I put it up now?”
“Sure. There’s a hook on the door that I use for the Christmas wreath. If you can’t reach it by yourself, I’ll help you in a minute.” She watched Mia carry the wreath to the door.
“You planned that, didn’t you?” Carson said the second Mia was out of earshot. His dark eyes were intense. “She’s cute, but she’s not mine, Natalie.”
“That’s not what Lisa said.”
“I might not be perfect, but I’d never in a million years abandon a child of mine. All I did was give Lisa a ride that night when her car broke down. I never so much as kissed her.” He jumped to his feet and strode toward the door. “Oh, what’s the use,” he muttered.
Well, she’d blown that battle. On both counts.
The town square was filled with people as Carson walked to work the next morning. Two men were putting a park bench under the old green clock. Other men were hammering together wooden flower boxes while women painted ones that were already done.
Zak Grant, a longtime friend, motioned to Carson as he neared the door to Smitten Hardware Store. Zak was thirty-two, just like Carson. They’d been friends since Carson knocked Adam Denton off Zak in the playground when they were in kindergarten. The two could have been brothers— both tall and strong. Both had dark hair and eyes. And both had come to the conclusion that the perfect woman didn’t exist for either of them.
Zak stopped in front of Carson. “Spill it, Carson.”
“Spill what?”
“Don’t act like an idiot. Well, more than usual anyway. Why did your uncle close the mill? It’s been three days. You have to have talked to him by now.”
Carson stepped past Zak and unlocked the door, then motioned him inside. “Let me get things opened up first.” He got the computer booted up, then turned it over to Candy, one of his employees. “I’ll be in the back,” he said.
Zak followed him into the storeroom at the back of the store, past rows of steel shelving units that held overflow merchandise. Carson flipped on the coffee machine and motioned to Zak to have a seat at the break table. “What’s up?”
Zak pulled out the steel chair. “Did you see all the craziness out there? It’s like the whole town has gone mad.”
“When people are desperate, they’ll do anything,” Carson said. “Folks are hurting.”
“But a resort town focused on romance? Come on. Have you talked to your uncle?”
“No, it’s none of my business. If he closed the mill, it’s because he had no alternative.”
Zak nodded. “Maybe it has nothing to do with the economy, though. Maybe it’s just that he’s getting older and isn’t up to it anymore.”
Zak had a point. Uncle Howard had been battling diabetes and never seemed to feel like doing much of anything. “But he loves his employees. If there were any choice, he would have kept it open.”
“We could do something with it,” Zak said. “You and me. A wood chip mill maybe.”
“Come on, Zak. I don’t know a thing about running a mill.”
Zak folded his arms across his chest. “I’m a fourth-generation logger. I know everything there is to know about wood and mills.”
“There’s a lot more to it than running the equipment. There’s vendors, suppliers, payroll, selling the product, marketing, overseeing everything. It’s a big job.”
“You’ve been in business for ten years. And we can get help. Would you at least talk to him?”