Wild Iris Ridge (Hope's Crossing) (26 page)

Peyton.
Peyton.
Why hadn’t she
figured it out? That’s why the name had seemed familiar—somewhere in the
recesses of her brain, in the file marked Spencer Gregory that she had purposely
buried as deeply as she could over the years, she suddenly remembered Spence had
a twelve-year-old daughter. Named Peyton.

And the said Peyton had just mentioned that her father had
taken a job in Hope’s Crossing and they were moving to town.

Oh. My. Fudge.

Spencer Gregory, the only person on the planet she could
honestly say she despised, was back in Hope’s Crossing. Permanently.

Why on
earth
hadn’t anybody
bothered to tell her this particular juicy rumor? She had to think that, by some
miracle, the news hadn’t made the rounds yet. Otherwise it would have been the
topic of conversation everywhere she went.

The bag with its silvery Sugar Rush logo still lay on the
countertop. She picked it up and held it out.

“Here you go,” she said to Peyton. Her voice came out cold and
small and she widened her smile to compensate.

“Um. Thanks. Thanks a lot.” The girl finally reached out and
grabbed it and shoved it into her messenger bag.

“How much does she owe you?” Spence reached into his wallet
with what one of the women’s magazines had once declared the sexiest smile in
sports.

If she had known Spence Gregory would be eating some of her
fudge, she might have had second thoughts about tossing it around
indiscriminately.

“She said I didn’t owe her anything. It’s a gift to welcome us
to town,” Peyton stated.

Spence looked just as stunned by the gesture as his daughter
had. “Wow. Thanks.”

He
should
be astonished. Charlotte
sincerely doubted anybody in town would be standing with open arms to welcome
back their native son. As far as many people were concerned, Spence Gregory had
taken the clean, charming image of Hope’s Crossing and, as her brothers might
have said, hawked a loogie all over it.

“Wow. Thank you. That’s very kind of you.”

“You’re welcome,” she lied gruffly.

His smile deepened as he gazed at her without a trace of
recognition. There was a certain light in those hazel eyes, something bright and
warm and almost...appreciative.

The nerves in her stomach sizzled. Oh, how she would have loved
to be the recipient of that kind of look from him when she was fifteen. Back
then—okay, even as recently as a year ago—she never would have dreamed it was
ever within the realm of possibility.

Instead of making her giddy, having Spence Gregory smile at her
now,
after all this time, only infuriated
her.

She deliberately turned away from him to his daughter. “Peyton,
come back anytime. I’ll see what I can do about the cinnamon fudge.”

The girl gave her a hesitant smile that meant far more than her
father’s well-practiced one. As she did, Charlotte became aware that the
browsing couple that had been in her store for what felt like hours was in the
middle of a whispered argument.

Finally the husband stepped forward. “You’re Smoke Gregory,
aren’t you?”

Spence stiffened, his friendly smile melting away. “Yeah,” he
said tersely.

“I knew it. Didn’t I tell you I knew it?” he crowed to his
wife. “And you said he wouldn’t dare show his face in public!”

“Darwin, hush!” she said, her face turning scarlet.

Spence had gone completely rigid, a hard, solid block of
granite in the middle of her store.

“Well, I just want you to know, we’re big baseball fans. We
love the Pioneers. We live in Pendleton and drove to Portland several times just
to watch you play.”

“Did you?”

“Yeah. You were a darn good ballplayer. Shame about everything
else.”

“Isn’t it?” he bit out.

“And for what it’s worth,” the woman said, her face still red,
“we don’t think you killed your wife.”

Charlotte could only stare at the couple, appalled, as what
little color was left in Peyton’s pale features seeped away like spring
runoff.

Fury sparked in Spence’s gaze and Charlotte shivered at the
heat of it. He placed a big hand on Peyton’s shoulder, who went taut.

“Good to know,” he said coldly.

“Could we have your autograph?” the woman asked in a rush. “Our
grandson followed your whole career. Had a poster on his bedroom wall and
everything, right up until...” Her voice trailed off at something she saw in
Spence’s dark features.

After a moment, he seemed to take a deep breath. He lifted his
hand from Peyton’s shoulder. To Charlotte’s astonishment, he managed to look
almost calm.

“Do you have anything for me to sign?”

After an awkward pause, the husband of the couple grabbed one
of Charlotte’s printed Sugar Rush napkins and thrust it at him, along with one
of the pens she kept by the register in a pretty beaded canister she had
made.

Spence used the countertop to sign the napkin with a flourish.
From her vantage point, she managed to read the message upside down. Generic and
succinct.
Best wishes. Spencer Gregory.
Along with
the number forty-two he had famously worn through more than a decade as a
starting pitcher for the Portland Pioneers.

The wife gripped the napkin and Charlotte realized they had
dropped all their purchases atop a bin full of root beer barrels. They left the
store without buying anything, leaving behind a vast, echoing silence in the
store.

Charlotte never expected she would have a moment’s sympathy for
Spence Gregory, not after everything, but in light of that painful encounter,
she couldn’t help a little tingle of dismay. Was it like that for him everywhere
he went?

“Are you ready to go?” he asked his daughter.

She nodded and headed for the door.

“Thanks again,” Spence said. He cocked his head, his gaze
narrowed. “You look familiar. I have a feeling I’m going to be saying that a lot
now I’m back in Hope’s Crossing. Did I know you when I lived here before?”

For a horrifying moment, Charlotte didn’t know how to answer
him. He didn’t recognize her. How could she tell him they’d sat across from each
other a couple nights a week at her dad’s café for years? That she spent night
after night helping him with his English homework?

That he had once broken her heart into a million tiny glass
shards?

She had to say something, even though she knew perfectly well
what his reaction would be.

“Yes,” she muttered.

He scrutinized her harder, obviously trying to place her. “I’m
sorry. I’m afraid you’re going to have to help me out.”

She didn’t
have
to do anything.
Just for a moment, she wished one of her older brothers was around to politely
encourage him to leave her store. They were just as big, just as tough as Spence
Gregory. In fact, she thought Jamie might even be bigger.

“Charlotte Caine,” she finally murmured.

Just as she expected, his eyes widened with disbelief first and
then astonishment.

“Char... Of course. Wow. You look fantastic!”

“Thanks,” she said, her voice clipped.

“Really fantastic. I wouldn’t have recognized you.”

“You didn’t.” She pointed out the obvious.

“True enough.”

“I have to admit, I’m surprised to see you. Somehow I hadn’t
heard you were coming back.”

“You mean nobody has started a petition yet to keep me away?”
He said the words in a joking tone but both of them knew it wasn’t far from the
truth.

“Not that I’ve signed yet.”

Though his mouth quirked up with amusement at her pointed
reply, she thought she saw just a hint of bleakness in his gaze. Again, she felt
that flutter of unexpected sympathy.

“Harry Lange brought me in to be the director of the new
recreation center in town,” he answered. “I’m starting tomorrow.”

Of course. She should have known Harry Lange was somehow
involved. The town’s richest citizen didn’t seem happy unless he was stirring up
trouble somewhere. Still, this seemed a bold move, even for him. Why would he
select a man for the job who had, by the skin of his teeth, just barely avoided
going to prison for supplying steroids and prescription drugs to his teammates?
And whose wife died under mysterious circumstances the very day those charges
were thrown out?

“I suppose getting engaged at seventy years old can make a man
lose a few brain cells,” she answered.

The words tasted ugly on her tongue and she wanted to call them
back. Usually she liked to give people the benefit of the doubt, but she just
didn’t have it in her to be objective when it came to Spence Gregory.

His mouth tightened and he looked almost hurt, though she knew
that couldn’t be true. What did he care if she welcomed him with somewhat
less-than-open arms?

“Apparently,” he murmured. “Yet here I am. For the next six
months, anyway. It’s a temporary position.”

That was something, anyway. She could endure anything for six
months, even having him back in the same zip code.

“Let’s go, Peyton.”

“Okay.”

Peyton looked subdued instead of angry now and Charlotte
directed her sympathy where it rightfully belonged—to a young girl who had lost
her mother far too young and spent her days under the cloud of her father’s
scandal.

Having to live with the man many considered responsible for her
mother’s death couldn’t be an easy situation for a young girl.

She gave her a warm smile. “See you around, Peyton. It was
really nice to meet you. Enjoy the fudge.”

“I’m sure I will,” she mumbled. She pushed open the door and
walked out into the summer afternoon.

Spence hesitated, looking as if he wanted to say something
else, but he finally lifted a hand in a wave and followed his daughter.

After the door closed behind them, Charlotte pressed a hand to
her stomach, fighting the urge to rush over and flip the sign to Closed, lock
the door and sag against the counter.

She liked to think she was a pretty good person most of the
time. She volunteered at the animal shelter, she always paid her taxes on time,
she tried to throw a little extra into the collection plate at church on
Sundays.

She didn’t consider herself petty or vindictive. She was
friendly with just about everyone in town, even the cliquey girls who had once
made her life so painfully hard at school and had grown into cliquey women with
the same prejudices.

But a small acrid, angry corner of her heart despised Spence
Gregory with a vitriol that unsettled her.

What was Harry Lange
thinking?
She
had to wonder if Mary Ella knew what her fiancé was up to, bringing back the man
who had once been the darling of Hope’s Crossing but was now considered a
pariah.

Maybe it was one of Harry’s twisted schemes. The man appeared
to have been turning over a new leaf in the past year since reconnecting with
his son Jack and the granddaughter he didn’t know existed, but maybe it was all
for show. Maybe Harry
wanted
the recreation center
he had basically financed to fail so he could sweep in and somehow make money
off it for his own purposes, perhaps as a tax write-off for a business loss.

Whatever the reason, she couldn’t believe she would be the only
one in town upset at this new development, though she had very personal reasons
to be angry about the return of Spence Gregory.

The cowbell clanked suddenly and, for an instant, fear spiked
that she would have to deal with him again, while she was still trying to come
to terms with his return.

Seeing Alex McKnight rush in, her long blond curls flying
behind her, was a sweet relief.

“Hi, Alex.” She even managed a smile, envious, as always, at
Alex’s effortless confidence. She was smart and sexy and a brilliant chef—and
was comfortable enough in her own skin that none of it mattered to her except
the chef part, of which she was fiercely proud.

“Guess who I just saw walking Front Street?” Alex said, her
green eyes wide.

“Spencer Gregory,” she answered dully.

“Wow. You are
good.
” Alex looked
surprised and a little amused.

“Not really. He just left the store.”

“Can you believe it? The guy must have balls as big as ostrich
eggs to show up back in town like nothing ever happened.”

“Take it up with your stepfather-to-be. Apparently he hired
Spence to run the new rec center.”

Alex’s eyes widened for an instant and then she shook her head.
“The man is insane sometimes. What goes on inside Harry’s head?”

Charlotte didn’t know. And right now she didn’t want to talk
about either Harry Lange or Spence Gregory.

“Can I get you anything?”

“Actually, I came in to ask you a huge favor.” With a cheerful
grin, Alex let herself be distracted. She seemed so happy lately since she had
started seeing Sam Delgado, a new contractor in town.

Charlotte was thrilled for her, she really was, but sometimes
she couldn’t help an insidious little niggle of envy. While Charlotte found
their developing relationship wonderful for the two of them—especially since she
knew firsthand how deeply Sam cared for Alex—Charlotte had once entertained
hopes herself toward the man when Sam had first come to town.

He had endeared himself to Charlotte forever by reaching out to
help her troubled brother Dylan, offering him a job with Sam’s construction
company despite Dylan’s new limitations. Her brother had refused—no big surprise
there—but Charlotte wanted to think the offer had meant something to Dylan. It
had certainly meant something to her—so much that she had asked Sam to go to the
town’s annual Giving Hope Day gala.

She had hoped the two of them might hit it off and that he
might ask her out again. Sam was new in town. He hadn’t even known her before
the changes of the past year and a half and she had hoped that might give her a
slight advantage, but it had become obvious fairly quickly that Sam was
completely tangled up over Alex.