Chapter 2 #2
The next morning, when Marlow carried her coffee down the hill, she found an Adirondack chair on the dock. She started smiling and couldn’t stop . . . until she glanced around and failed to see Cort. Had he skipped fishing because of her?
If so, why bring her a chair? Or maybe he hadn’t. Maybe he’d planned to use the chair himself.
Unsure what to think, she walked out to the dock and soon became engrossed in the sunrise. It wasn’t quite as colorful this time, but it was still beautiful. The birth of a new day, full of promise.
Stepping out of her sneakers, she settled into the deep chair, pulling her knees up and loosely draping the throw blanket around her legs and over her lap. Today she’d thought to dress more appropriately because she’d assumed Cort would be there.
The morning was less eventful without him, yet she rejoiced in it anyway. The sunshine on her face, watching birds swoop and hearing frogs awaken—she enjoyed it long after her mug of coffee was gone.
Deliberately, she’d left her phone in the house. After Sandra had talked her ear off yesterday, mostly attempting to bully her or coerce her into returning to her old life, Marlow hadn’t wanted to chance another call until she was ready.
She wasn’t naturally a confrontational person, but through business and her association with Dylan and his family, she’d learn to stand up for herself. Somewhat.
Tomorrow she’d bring the phone so she could take some photos.
Shopping had been an adventure. She hadn’t planned out her own meals for years. Every ten minutes it seemed she found a new way that her marriage had changed her, and now life required a whole new skill set.
She embraced the challenge.
The most interesting part of her trip to town yesterday had been stopping back at the Dry Frog Tavern on her return. It had gotten late, and rather than cook dinner, she’d decided on more pizza.
Everyone had been interested in her, freely questioning her on her whereabouts, how long she planned to stay, and what she thought of the town so far. What she’d noticed most was the lack of artifice. There were no cultured manners, no snooty looks, but yes, plenty of judgment.
Outsiders, she’d heard more than once, always caused suspicion. The experience had been so unique, she’d stayed quite a bit longer than on her previous stop at the bar.
In fact, as her second full day in Bramble rolled on and evening approached, she decided on the same dinner plans, except this time she’d try a burger.
As she strolled into the tavern at exactly six o’clock, the first thing Marlow saw was a Help Wanted sign. Possibilities raced through her mind. Outrageous possibilities. She hadn’t done that type of job since . . . well, high school, and it hadn’t been in a bar but an ice-cream shop. The sign didn’t specify the job, so she had no idea if it’d be janitorial work, waiting tables, dishwashing, or cooking. She stood there, staring at the sign until she heard a laugh.
That’s when she saw the second thing—Cort at a table with three older people, two women and one man. Pen in hand, he wrote in a notepad while the three people all seemed to talk to him at once. One of the women laughed again, putting a smile on Cort’s face even as he shook his head. He started to say something to the woman but suddenly paused and quickly turned until their gazes clashed.
Busted. Heat crawled up her neck and into her face, but she tried to play it off with a friendly wave and an immediate pivot to the bar. Sliding onto a stool, she prayed that Herman would notice her quickly, just to give her something to do.
No such luck. The owner was busy chatting with a customer and never glanced her way. Her gaze skipped around—avoiding Cort and his friends—until she found a dartboard toward the back of the room. She pretended an interest in it, when in truth, she knew nothing at all about throwing darts.
Even before Cort reached her, she knew he was walking over. The air around her changed, as did her heartbeat.
When he took the stool beside her, she tried, and likely failed, to look surprised. “Cort, hi. I hope I didn’t interrupt you.”
“Grabbing dinner again?”
That he acted so casual helped her to do the same. “Afraid so. I shopped the other day but forgot a few things so I ran back into town again. I won’t be able to stay long because some of my groceries need to go in the freezer, but I’ve enjoyed the pizza here so much, I thought I might try a burger on the go this time.”
“The burgers are good. Fries, too.”
Peeking back at the table he’d left, she met the gazes of all three elders watching her with keen interest. With an exaggerated wince, she apologized. “Sorry if I was rude. I find everything about the tavern interests me, including the people here.”
Leaning forward, he called down the bar to Herman. “You have a customer.”
Herman hurried their way, and once he reached them, muttered, “Thanks, Cort. I couldn’t get away. You know how Leo is. Doesn’t even take a breath.” He smiled at Marlow. “Back for more, huh?”
“I couldn’t resist.”
He puffed up with pride, then said to Cort, “She was here last night, too. Had everyone entertained. Girl knows how to tell a joke.”
Cort’s brows lifted.
And of course, that made her face heat again. “I was just getting to know the other customers, not really entertaining them.”
Herman snorted. “She did a great impersonation of you.”
Oh God. Fire burned in her face. Even her ears felt hot. “I didn’t, that is . . .”
“Show him,” Herman urged.
Someone ought to muzzle the man! “Oh, um . . . I have groceries in the car.”
“Again?”
“Forgot a few things yesterday.” She could handle CEOs, so surely she could handle one tavern owner. “I’d like a loaded burger, please. And Cort recommended the fries.”
Laughing, Herman clapped Cort on the shoulder. “I’ll get it going right now. Probably’ll take twenty minutes or so.”
As he walked off, Cort asked, “Will your food keep that long?”
She had no idea. She’d never left groceries in a car while she visited a bar and chatted with her landlord. New experiences were fun. “The few cold things are packed together, and it’s not that hot outside.”
“Should be fine.” He left his stool. “Come on. I’ll introduce you to a few other people.”
Glad of the reprieve, she quickly gathered her purse. “You don’t mind?”
“No.”
Deciding to clear the air, she said, “That.”
He paused to stare down at her. “That, what?”
“That’s how I impersonated you. With one-word answers and teeny tiny smiles that only lasted a heartbeat. I swear it wasn’t anything mean.”
Light brown eyes seemed to warm before he said, “Sounds accurate.” With that easy comment, he moved forward again.
Marlow couldn’t tell if he was offended or not, and as he wouldn’t say, she just let it go. At the table he’d left, he said, “Wade, Gloria, Bobbi, this is my new tenant at the guest cottage. Marlow, meet three originals, all siblings.”
Glad that he hadn’t given her last name, Marlow held out a hand. It might not be an issue here, but many people had heard of the wealthy Heddings family, and Dylan’s sudden death had caused a stir in certain circles. She’d had enough of snoopy reporters and gossips to last her a lifetime. “Nice to meet you.”
Wade immediately stood and offered his seat. “Here, you can sit with the girls, and I’ll finish explaining to Cort what I want.”
“No fair,” Bobbi immediately protested. “You just want to dictate everything.”
“And you don’t?” Gloria asked. “This isn’t a dictatorship, and Wade, sit down! Just because you’re a guy doesn’t mean you get the say-so.”
“Don’t I know it,” he snapped right back. “You two always gang up on me.”
They all ignored her hand, so Marlow withdrew it. She didn’t feel slighted but rather as if she’d been dropped into a heated debate. “What are we deciding?”
Bobbi said, “The add-on to our house. Of course, it should be a great room for entertaining, but Wade thinks he needs a workshop.” She snorted.
“I do need a workshop!”
“Then we wouldn’t need to hire Cort, would we?” Gloria asked.
That quieted them all, which gave Marlow the chance to say, “I hope you’re able to work it out. I’ll leave you to your discussion so you can get to it.” Not that they had let her interrupt anyway. She turned to go, but Cort was there, blocking her.
“Sometimes,” he said loudly enough for his friends to hear, “they forget their manners.”
“Wade always forgets,” Gloria said. “But what can you expect of a man?”
Patiently, Cort pointed out, “I’m a man.”
“Oh, don’t we know it.” Bobbi elbowed her sister and got Gloria’s complete agreement.
Marlow turned back to them. “It must be wonderful to have siblings. I was an only child, and I never had anyone to argue with.”
They all looked at each other, then cracked up.
Wade reached out, offering his hand. “You can have my sisters. You’ll be singing a different tune in no time.”
No sooner did she finish that handshake than Gloria was there, snatching Marlow’s hand into both of hers. “Bobbi has her moments, but now Wade? Be thankful you didn’t have a bossy brother.”
“Or an older sister,” Bobbi added, drawing Marlow into a hug.
“Better,” Cort said, making them all smile.
Overwhelmed and equally entertained, Marlow smiled, too. “I think I’ll check on my food now and then head home. Truly, it was wonderful to meet you.”
With a touch to her arm, Cort kept her there while he spoke to the siblings. “I think I have a solution for your space. It would be a way to please all three of you. Tonight, I’ll get my notes organized to make sure my idea works. Tomorrow, if possible, I’ll get back to you with rough plans and a broad estimate, at least until we’re able to finalize some things. Does that work?”
They all nodded.
On the way back to the bar, he glanced at Marlow. “For the record, that was far more than one word.”
“Oh my, it was!”
When he gave her a big grin, she not only laughed, she also noticed that he had a dimple. Until that moment, she hadn’t seen it, and now that she did, she also noticed how incredibly handsome he was in a quiet but very rugged way.
Not that any of it mattered to her.
Herman was back at the bar, so to distract herself from her gorgeous landlord, she asked about the job.
Both Herman and Cort stared at her.
“What?” They truly appeared bemused. “Is it for originals only?”
“Not exactly.” Herman rubbed the back of his neck. “The thing is, you seem like a classy lady and your kind never work here.”
Instead of taking insult, she said, “Thank you, Herman. I assure you, though, my kind also work.”
“At a bar?” Cort asked.
She waved his question off. “This is more like a diner.”
“Not on weekends.”
Leaning over the bar top, Herman confided, “The weekenders are sometimes loud and a little rowdy.”
That didn’t scare Marlow. She’d dealt with cutthroat executives who would cheat their own mothers if they could. She’d have no problem handling a rambunctious weekend crowd. “What is the job? Waiting tables? For how many hours?”
The men shared another look, prompting her to say, “Gentlemen, your sexism is showing.”
“Guilty,” Cort said. “Plus, I’m not sure you realize what it’s like to wait tables.”
“Oh? And you know?” She crossed her arms. “Have you waited tables?”
“Yes, I have.”
Hmm. She tried to envision that, but somehow Cort looked more like the guy who would not only own the restaurant but also the town it was in. Not like a slick wealthy guy; he wasn’t what she’d call debonair. No, with his size and quiet air of authority, Cort was more like the man who gave orders and expected them to be followed. “I see. So tell me. What’s so difficult about it?”
“Eight hours on your feet, heavy trays, irascible customers, whiny demands, drunks, guys who get grabby—”
“Here now,” Herman protested. “I don’t let anything like that go on.”
“You,” Cort countered, “can’t be everywhere at once. Plus, that’s why Cindy quit, right?”
“She was going back to school or something anyway.”
Marlow’s gaze ping-ponged back and forth between them. “Do you have the specifics? Pay, exact hours, that sort of thing?”
Resigned, Herman dug around behind the counter and produced a wrinkled sheet of paper. He slapped it down on the bar top, almost like a challenge.
Putting the paper in her purse without looking at it, Marlow asked, “My burger?”
Herman scowled, then left to check on the food.
Cort said nothing. Maybe she’d be crowding him by taking a job here, at a place where he obviously met with customers, but he’d get it over it.
The ringing of her phone seemed to change everything. Cort glanced at her purse, then at her face, before saying, “Enjoy your burger.”
“I’m sure I will. Thank you for the recommendation.”
With the briefest of nods, he headed back to the siblings. That’s when Marlow realized every single person in the bar was watching her, or rather they’d been watching them , she and Cort together. Now that he’d walked off, their eyes mostly followed him but also kept checking back on her, maybe waiting for a reaction.
Smiling while resisting the urge to look at the paper in her purse, she pulled out her phone, already guessing who it would be.
Sandra again.
She may as well take it, otherwise her mother-in-law would just keep calling back. Once she got her food, Marlow wanted a quiet evening to herself, not another debate with her mother-in-law.
Stepping toward the door and turning her back to the room gave her a modicum of privacy. She swiped the screen and put the phone to her ear. “Sandra, hello.”
“I can’t believe you’re doing this. Disappearing without a word. It’s unconscionable.”
No, it was a necessity, not that she’d try to explain—again. Used to her mother-in-law’s abrasive way, Marlow asked evenly, “Was there something you wanted?”
A moment of silence conveyed Sandra’s frustration. “Tell me where you are. I have a few things I want to send you.”
Though Sandra couldn’t see her, Marlow shook her head. “I took everything I wanted with me.” Including some memories, some feelings, that she didn’t want. “Everything else, I left behind on purpose.”
“There are papers from Dylan . . .” Sandra went quiet a moment before starting again, more crisply this time. “They were locked in his desk. I need to mail them to you.”
Suspicion accelerated her heartbeat. “What are they?”
“Given your attitude, I think it’d be better if I just sent them.”
Giving up, mostly because she wanted to get off the phone, Marlow recited her new address.
“Bramble? I’ve never heard of it.”
“It’s a small, quiet town in southernmost Kentucky.” Well away from Illinois and everyone she knew. “I’m renting a guest cottage, but if I can find a way to make it happen, I plan to stay here.” Forever .
“Dear God. A guest cottage ?” She made it sound as if Marlow lived in a hovel. “You didn’t buy your own home?”
“No, but I’m not returning.” Marlow filled the words with firm conviction. “If it doesn’t work out here, I’ll find another place. Either way, I have no plans to return to my prior job or location.” That was the nicest way she could phrase it.
“Many of Dylan’s friends have asked about you.”
Sure they had, the gossipmongers. His friends had not necessarily been her friends, but she knew them well all the same. They lived to uncover dirt on each other. For them, every scrap of knowledge was power to use for leverage or advancement, and if neither of those could be achieved, there was always the pleasure of ridicule. Once she’d filed for divorce, they’d come sniffing around, hoping to get the inside scoop. As if she’d willingly share that her husband found her lacking? Fortunately, she had the gift of gab and a formidable backbone when necessary. She’d shut down the first few people so thoroughly that others had decided just to talk about her behind her back, instead of approaching her.
That had been the least of her worries—she hadn’t felt like socializing anyway. “Tell them I’m fine, not to concern themselves.”
A note of excitement rang in Sandra’s tone. “I’ll let them know we’ve spoken. All will be forgiven, you’ll see.”
Incredulous at that attitude, Marlow half laughed, but without humor. Leave it to Sandra to think she needed forgiveness when it was her husband who’d been unfaithful. “I have to go.” There, she’d said that reasonably enough, even though she’d forced the words through gritted teeth. “Take care of yourself, Sandra.” Her mother-in-law was replying as she ended the call and dropped the phone into her purse.
Hoping her food was done because she was more than ready to seek real privacy, Marlow turned—and nearly ran into Cort’s chest as he was about to step around her.
“Good God,” she said, irritation and embarrassment crowding in. “How long were you looming behind me?”
Light brown eyes, rimmed with circles of darker brown, stared down at her with no visible reaction. “Just on my way out.” Saying nothing else, he went through the door and headed for his truck.
Well, damn. She’d snapped at him for no reason. She was about to go after him when Herman stepped up with her meal.
“Here you go,” he said with a broad smile. “I did a rush order for you.”
A rush order? She’d hate to be hungry on a busy night. “Thank you.” She read the receipt stapled to the bag, dug hurriedly in her purse, and handed a few bills to him. “Keep the change.”
“Nice, thanks.” As she rushed from the tavern, he called out, “I stuck salt and pepper, and some ketchup and mayonnaise packets in there, too.”
“You’re amazing, Herman.” She gave an airy wave . . . and watched, disheartened, as Cort drove away. The day had not ended well.
Tomorrow, she’d do better.
* * *
On his short drive home, Cort’s thoughts centered on Marlow and the frustration he’d seen on her face after she’d disconnected the call and turned, almost plowing into him. Clearly, she thought he’d eavesdropped when he hadn’t.
Didn’t need to.
Her body language alone made it clear that dealing with her caller had both annoyed and upset her. A few times her voice had gotten clipped, but most of the words weren’t distinct enough to hear. Good thing, because he was pretty sure everyone in the tavern had been trying to listen in. It was always that way with newcomers, but especially with someone like Marlow.
Bramble didn’t see women like her very often. An understated woman who attracted attention more for her poise than perfect looks. Not that Marlow Heddings was unattractive. Far from it.
She wasn’t tall and statuesque, not delicate and petite, either. She was somehow more than that. More substantial, more real.
More woman.
Not just physically but in her strength of character and her convictions.
Her desires, too? He found himself wondering about that.
From what he knew of her so far, he’d bet yes.
She was in her mid-thirties, refined in a way that couldn’t be faked, yet not condescending. Confident in every situation, even when the siblings had been rude to her with their bickering.
He enjoyed the way her soft brown eyes took in everything with interest.
She accepted her shortcomings with humor and faced new challenges with grit.
Her idea of casual style was still high class, but he doubted she could be any other way. Even barefoot and in secondhand clothes, she’d own any room she entered.
Would she take a job at the tavern? Of course she would, if for no other reason than to prove she could do it. He also got the feeling that, despite a self-confessed life of luxury, Marlow was not a woman who enjoyed too much idle time. That was something they had in common.
He had to remind himself that she was recently widowed, and not just in normal circumstances but with a lot of anger and hurt riding along with the grief. She was strong, but he knew well that even the strongest warrior had a breaking point.
Thankfully, Marlow seemed resilient, rebounding with iron resolve and a lot of good nature. She still needed time. Time to regroup, to recover. To grieve.
And in the meantime, he’d continue to get to know her better. Not a hardship at all.
She was a breath of fresh air, a woman full of wit, resolve, and charm.
After labeling her with all those complimentary traits, he realized he was smiling and didn’t care. The town could use a breath of fresh air—and honestly, so could he.