Authors: Nora Roberts
The Next Always (21 page)
“Has he?”
“Three pounds. I’ve nagged him into exercising with me. I’m shooting for ten. Now, what can I do for you?”
“You did it, and possibly saved lives.” She picked up the soup can. “Harry was getting desperate.”
“They all want grilled cheese sandwiches. I’ll make them. You, take a break. Get some air, take a walk. Get out of the house.”
Clare started to protest, then saved her breath. Besides, she could use a walk. “I owe you.”
“Give me three grandsons. Oh, wait, you already have. Take an hour.”
“Half hour, and I’ll have my cell phone in case.”
“I think we can handle things. We’re watching
Star Wars
. Oh, and the boys want a sleepover. Is Friday night all right?”
Star Wars
. Oh, and the boys want a sleepover. Is Friday night all right?”
“Yeah, sure, if you want.”
“We want. And maybe your night out with Beckett Montgomery will go a little smoother.”
“It would have to. Though I told you, he was great about it.”
“I always liked the Montgomery boys.” Rosie assembled ingredients for grilled cheese sandwiches. “And I’m glad you’re dating someone—and someone I know.”
“We’re not really dating. I mean, obviously we would have, but . . . It feels a little strange yet.”
“You like him.”
“I’ve always . . . Yes, I do.”
“Then give him a test-drive, honey. But drive safe.”
“Mom, are you having the kids over so I can take the wheel?”
“Just clearing the road,” Rosie said cheerfully.
Clare shook her head. “I’m definitely taking a walk.”
MIDDLE OF THE
week, Beckett thought, and though they’d run into countless glitches, they’d made some decent progress. The gas lines were in, and that was a huge headache behind them. He’d spent the weekend in the shop, working with Ryder on the bookcases and the arches while Owen built the counter his mother wanted for the gift shop.
week, Beckett thought, and though they’d run into countless glitches, they’d made some decent progress. The gas lines were in, and that was a huge headache behind them. He’d spent the weekend in the shop, working with Ryder on the bookcases and the arches while Owen built the counter his mother wanted for the gift shop.
The extra project wasn’t as much of a time suck as he’d feared. And he had to admit, seeing the building painted in the warm cream and sage gave him a nice lift.
Plus, checking the progress there made it handy to drop in and see Clare.
Most of the work he focused on was behind the tarp, and he was as ready as the rest of the town to see it come down. Not much longer now, he calculated as he set another plank on the main porch. Maybe next week if they clicked along.
He and his two-man crew worked steadily through the morning. Just as they broke for lunch, Owen came to the doorway.
“Looks good. That’s damn pretty wood.”
“It’ll be prettier yet when we get poly on it. This mahogany’s going to gleam.”
“It’ll make a statement. We need you out back.”
Beckett stepped inside, checking as he went. Progress, he thought again.
“We’re working on the back steps. We want to go over the landings one more time, the columns, the paint. Once it’s done, it’s done.”
“You’ve got the drawing.”
“Yeah, and we’ve got a couple questions on tying it in, and how it’s going to work with the pavers, the stone walls around The Courtyard. They’re going to start that as soon as they finish the patio deal at the gift shop.”
“We haven’t settled on the pavers yet.”
“Yeah, and that’s another thing.”
He walked out. He could see it. The ground still rough, the stairs half done, with rails and pickets yet to come. But he could see it.
Ryder stood, hands on hips, looking up. “Are you sure you want those angles on the second floor?”
“Yeah.”
“A straight run would be easier.”
“And not as aesthetically pleasing.”
“Told you he’d say that,” Owen put in.
“Yeah, yeah. About this planting wall.”
They discussed, wrangled about parking and access until Beckett stepped it off. “Paved walkway here, running from the sidewalk, past Reception, then right around the side and to the lobby porch. Handicapped parking there, regular parking there.”
“We’d have more parking without the plantings.”
Beckett shook his head at Ryder. “You’re sitting out here at one of the tables, having a drink. Do you really want to stare out at a parking lot, or be stared at by people pulling in?”
“You’re still going to see the lot. It’s not like we’re planting a run of oak trees.”
“You have the feel of private, and that’s what a courtyard’s about. There’s no place for a garden, which is what Mom really wanted. This works. You’ve got some nice raised beds, and with the arch over the entrance there, some sort of flowering vine. Like the main porch, it makes a statement.”
“Fine, fine, you’re the ‘aesthetically pleasing’ guy.”
“And I’m right.”
Ryder’s lips twitched. “You’d better be. I’m going to grab some lunch.”
“I think I’ll get a sub at Vesta,” Owen said. “I’ve got some calls to make.”
“Sounds good.”
“I’ll catch up with you,” Beckett told them. “I’m going to check in at the gift shop.”
Owen snorted. “Tell Clare hi.”
“I will, but I’m still checking on the gift shop.”
He felt a hint of fall in the air—something changing. He caught a whiff of burgers grilling in Crawford’s as somebody came out the door. Then the smell of paint, fresh and new.
Things were headed that way, he thought. Fresh and new.
He noted the gift shop crew had already broken for lunch. Tarps covered the floors, and tape ran in front of the steps still wet with the dark green contrast paint.
He walked through, down the steps into the office area. They’d need a desk, a computer, office supplies, shelves. God knew what else. But that was Owen’s area.
Apparently the hardscape crew heard the lunch bell, but they’d put in a solid morning’s work first. Pavers replaced the narrow gravel walkway that had bisected the scruffy grass. They’d hauled out rocks, cleverly using them to build a low wall around the Rose of Sharon—still blooming madly.
Tools and supplies sat in piles, and with the materials and space left, the fencing to be replaced, he calculated they’d be done by the following week.
He could report to his brothers, if all continued smoothly, work on The Courtyard could begin within two weeks.
Not bad.
He rounded the old fence, and went through the back door of the bookstore.
He heard kids in the children’s section, saw a couple of them poking at each other in the main store while their mother—he assumed—browsed the shelves. Cassie waited on a customer at the counter while Laurie manned the computer station.
“Busy,” he commented.
“We just finished our first Story Time of the fall.” Laurie stopped keyboarding to give him a thumbs-up. “Had a nice turnout. Avery should, too. Most of them plan on hitting Vesta for lunch.”
“I’m probably heading up there myself. Is Clare around?”
“Down in the annex, putting things back together. Don’t step on the toddlers.”
In the annex, Clare packed art supplies into a chest. She wore black pants today, snug through the butt with a white, lacy blouse that cuffed at her elbows.
He thought he’d like to kiss her there, in that tender crease at her elbow. He thought he’d like to kiss her anywhere. Everywhere.
A couple of women chatted as they considered a display of candles, one rocking a stroller back and forth with the kid inside it sucking its thumb with fierce intensity. The other woman carried an infant sleeping in one of those slings across her chest.
The stroller kid gave Beckett a hard, suspicious stare, as if he might steal the precious thumb. Probably not the optimum time for kissing the inside of Clare’s elbow, Beckett decided.
“Hiya.”
She looked over, colorful strips of felt in her hand. “Hiya back.”
“I heard you had a successful return to Story Time.”
“We did, a sure sign summer’s over. It’s the first one I’ve done without one of my own kids here, and that’s another transition. How are things going?”
“Moving along. You should come over later, see the changes.”
“I’d like to if I can manage it. I’m going to email you the file on the copy once I finish up here. I think we can do better, once we see everything in place. But I tried to make it fun and appealing.”
“Great. I’ll take a look. Here, I’ll get that.” He picked up the case before she could.
“It’s not heavy. I’m just going to put it in the back.” Since he didn’t give it back, she glanced at the customers. “I’ll show you where it goes. Are you finding everything all right?” she asked the women.
“Yeah, thanks. I’m crazy about these handbags.”
“Made from recycled video tape, plastic bags. Clever, pretty, and green. Just let me know if you need any help.”
She led Beckett around to the little alcove outside the back room. “I keep it on the top shelf there since I only use it once a month. I always thought I’d be crafty, like one of those mothers who can make a toy car out of a cereal box and rubber bands.”
“MacGyver Mom.”
“Exactly. But that didn’t work out.”
“I always thought I’d pitch a no-hitter for the O’s. That didn’t work out either.”
“Life’s a series of disappointments.” She smiled when he gave the dangle of her earring a flick. “And surprises.”
“Kids okay?”
“Back to normal
and
in school. Praise Jesus.”
and
in school. Praise Jesus.”
“Why don’t we have a dry run of Friday night? I’ll buy you lunch.”
She thought of Sam Freemont and his damn country club, and how much she’d have preferred to grab a hot dog at Crawford’s or a slice at Vesta with Beckett.
“That’s a nice offer, and I wish I could. The girls and I are getting delivery and finalizing our holiday orders. Christmas,” she explained.
“Christmas? We just had Labor Day five minutes ago.”
“Which shows you’ve never worked in retail. We need to get the card order in this afternoon.”
“There’s that series of disappointments again, so I’ll have to settle for this.”
He leaned down, found her mouth with his. With the women on the other side of the wall laughing, the phone ringing, the infant squalling awake, he sank in.
Too long, he thought. Too long until Friday when he could, for a few hours at least, have her to himself. Everything about her called to him, her taste, her scent, the shape of her body as he drew her closer.
“Hey, Clare, there’s a—Oops, sorry.”
Laurie cast her eyes, very deliberately, at the ceiling when Clare and Beckett broke apart.
“Is there a problem?” Clare thought she pulled off casual. Or nearly.
“There’s a man on the phone who insists on speaking to the owner. I could tell him you . . . stepped out, take his number.”
“That’s all right. I’ll take it in the back room.”
“All right. Get you anything, Beckett?” Laurie batted her eyelashes. “A cold drink?”
“No, I’m good. I’d better get going.”
“See you soon.” Laurie walked off humming.
“Sorry,” Clare told him. “I’d better take care of this.”
“I’ll head out the back. Come on over if you get a chance.”
“I’ll try.” She watched him go, wished, as he had, for Friday. She laid one hand on her fluttering stomach, the other on the phone. Maybe he was good, but she could use that cold drink.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” she said into the phone. “This is Clare Brewster.”
When she finished the call, she walked back to the main store. After the bustle and noise of the morning, she found the quiet lull welcome.
Until she saw the gleam in Cassie’s eye.
“I called in our lunch order,” Laurie told her.
“Great. Let’s get the catalog and order sheet so we—Stop,” she demanded as both women grinned at her.
“I can’t help it.” Laurie bounced in her chair. “You can’t expect me to walk into you and Beckett Montgomery in a major lip-lock and not react.”
“I wished I’d answered the phone, then I’d have come looking for you,” Cassie complained. “Damn customers. I knew there was sparkage, and everybody knows you were going out last week before the kids got sick.”
“Booted right on his shoes.”
Clare winced. “And everybody knows that, too?”
“I ran into Mrs. Ridenour in the park on Sunday and asked how the date went. She told me. Sucks for everybody. Anyway, we can’t miss how he comes in here pretty much every day—nothing new there—but lately the two of you have been flirty.”
“Flirty?”
“Discreetly flirty. Or so I thought until I find you sneaking off to the back room to fool around.”
“We weren’t fooling around. It was . . . It was just a kiss.”
“Smoking-hot kiss.” Laurie waved her hand in front of her face. “So, is it serious or just a little thing?”
“Laurie, we haven’t even officially gone out yet.”
“If a guy kissed me like that, I wouldn’t go out either. We’d stay home. But then, you’ve got the kids so—And I’m being really nosy. I’ll zip it.” She mimed zipping her lips. “I just liked seeing the two of you together. Plus, smoking.”
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