Chapter 1
PROVIDED VALIDATION
Six Weeks Later
“Alright class,” Meredith said, her voice rising over the kids, her hands clapping for the extra attention she hoped to get. “Ten minutes left. It’s time to pick up.”
The fifteen kids in her class groaned, some whined, and two stomped their feet.
“No, Ms. Banks,” Ethan said. “I want to stay.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, moving toward the table he was at with two other kids.
“Can we paint tomorrow too?” Abby asked.
“We’ll see,” she said, touching Abby lightly on the shoulder as she walked by.
The kids were dipping their paintbrushes in the water cups on their desk. She moved around and picked the cups up so they weren’t spilling them all over the floor. No reason to have the janitors upset with her.
“I had fun, Ms. Banks.”
“I’m glad, Macy.” She heard the belly rumble while she stood there. One week in and Macy seemed skinny to her. More than she should be.
They all had daily snacks in the morning and afternoon.
Macy was one kid that ate more than others. Meredith often snuck in some extra because the little girl wouldn’t ask.
At lunch yesterday, she sought out her new student to see what she had and it was the school lunch, which Macy gobbled up faster than anyone else.
“Everyone line up for dismissal.”
The kids got in line, some pushing the others out of the way. Poor Macy got shoved to the back without saying a word. Meredith was always one to zone in on who might be a target in her classroom.
“Do you all want to sit down and try it again?” she asked loudly. “I know we are learning new rules, but we don’t move people out of the way.”
Everyone turned and went back to their seat. Once they were all seated, she lifted her hands with a smile and they got up and walked like polite considerate kids to get in line.
Macy still found herself in the back, but this time no one pushed her.
Meredith looked at the clock, then walked her kids down the hall. Those getting on the bus went first, then the remaining five stayed by her while parents came to pick them up.
Once her children were all gone, she returned to her room, gathered her belongings for the day and rushed to the principal’s office. She didn’t want to be late for her interview but had to put her children first.
“Hi, Meredith,” Stacia Fremont said. She liked Stacia, who was only a few years away from retirement. “Can I help you with something?”
“I know this is bad timing, but I’m in a hurry, yet I need to talk to you about a student.”
“Please, come in,” Stacia said. “Have a seat and let me know what is going on.”
“I’ve got a little girl. Macy Stubban. I can’t put my finger on things, but something feels off.”
“Tell me what you’re feeling,” Stacia said. “You’re an excellent judge of character.”
She held back the hysterical laugh with that statement. If she was such an excellent judge of character she would have known her boyfriend was cheating on her for months right under her nose.
At least that situation was over with.
She hoped. Prayed.
Wished.
Fredrick wasn’t going away quietly.
Maybe she shouldn’t have done what she had, but she felt justified.
“Macy is hungry a lot. I know that is normal for this age. She won’t ask for more, but her stomach is always growling. She’s the first one done eating and extremely thin.”
“Have you asked her about it?”
“No. I’m not sure what to say. She had a school lunch when I checked on her yesterday.
Her name hasn’t come up yet for the daily snack.
I think it’s next week. I’m not holding my breath if she’ll bring something in.
She’s also a little stinky.” She cringed when she said that, but it had to be expressed.
“Stinky like there is smoke or animals in the house, or body odor?”
Her bottom lip came out. “Body odor. No five-year-old should stink. Her hair is greasy, her nails kind of dirty. I help her wash them when she comes in. I don’t want her picked on.”
“It drives me nuts,” Stacia said. “Makes me sick too.”
“I know,” she said. “I noticed a few bruises on her upper arm last week. I didn’t question her. I’m gathering everything. This is a touchy situation. I have a lot of bruises and always did.”
As a child, she had been questioned, but her teachers soon learned that she spent more time on the ground than on her feet. Or bumping into tables, chairs and walls. Getting glasses had helped that significantly, but she just had horrible balance.
Or she was always in a rush and had energy to spare.
Who the heck knew, but coordination wasn’t in her vocabulary.
“You’re doing the right thing reporting this to me. Let’s start a file. I’ll have the counselor talk to Macy tomorrow. The nurse too. We’ll see if either of them can get her to open up. You might have to make a call to the home. Do you know that situation?”
“I see a father and grandmother listed. Looks to be the same address.”
“Thanks for bringing this to me,” Stacia said.
Meredith stood up. “I’m sorry, but I need to run.” She looked at her watch. She had twenty minutes to get to Ridgeway Orchards for her interview as a part-time wedding planner.
She might have had more jitters in her body than her students today while she watched the clock tick down.
She left the school with her bag over her shoulder, got to her small SUV, and pulled her nude pumps off the passenger seat to swap out the canvas sneakers she had on with her long summer dress.
She wanted to impress Clay Ridgeway. Coming in with sneakers and a flowing dress didn’t show too much professionalism for a fancy wedding planner.
As she drove through the main street, then took the turn to go toward Warrensburg and into the country where the orchards were, she fished around in the bag on the passenger seat for her belt.
Once her hand landed on it, she pulled it out to set on her lap.
Meredith entered the property to the orchards, parked in front of the massive, converted barn. Wrapping the belt around her waist, she cinched it tight, then pulled the material of her floral dress up a bit to gather. She hoped it looked as nice as it had when she tested it this morning.
After she got out of her SUV, she flung her purse on her shoulder, then opened the backdoor and grabbed the three bulky binders of samples, materials, and ideas.
The soft giddy laugh escaped her lips before she could stop it, then she rushed into the barn, where the doors were open, just waiting for her to make her grand entrance like all the newly married couples would do.
Too bad in her pass through the doors, her heel caught on the step, her feet skated around as if she were on ice, her ankle turned and the binders went crashing to the ground in a thunk loud enough to echo in the Grand Canyon.
She was positive she was going down next to them, but the large hands of Clay Ridgeway caught her before her knees kissed the floor.
“Damn it,” Clay said. “I’ve got to fix that step now.”
“No,” she said. “It’s me. The step is fine. I’m not used to wearing heels and my shoe caught.”
“Then why wear them?” he asked.
She straightened herself, then looked into the dark brown eyes of the man she’d been thinking about for weeks.
Oh lord, the pictures on his website hadn’t done him justice.
His hair was as dark as it was when he was a child. He towered over her, but now more so. He had muscles and strength to pack a punch like a heavyweight boxer.
“What?” she asked. He was searching her face, his powerful hands on her forearms keeping her steady.
“Why wear heels if you can’t walk in them?”
“To look good,” she said. He let go of her arms and she was steady enough.
“Falling kind of outweighs that in my eyes,” he said, his tone shorter than she remembered.
Oh well. She wouldn’t let this get her down.
Speaking of down, everything she’d brought with her had spilled at her feet, binders opened, pages exposed. At least it was all still intact.
“Comes with the territory for me,” she said, kneeling down to gather her books.
He squatted and picked up two of them before her, and they stood together. “I’m assuming you’re Meredith Banks and not some saleswoman coming in here to sell me”—he looked down at the binder on top—“flowers?”
Bummer. He not only didn’t recognize her, but didn’t even remember her name.
Her ego could take the hit. She knew she was forgettable most times.
She stuck her hand out enthusiastically. “That’s me. Meredith Banks, interviewing for the part-time wedding planner. My dream job.”
He snorted. “Why don’t we go over here and talk? Think you can make it without tripping?”
He reached for the binder in her hands, and she handed it to him. “You’re funny.”
“I wasn’t trying to be,” he said and turned to walk toward a table close by.
Hmm. She didn’t remember him being this grouchy before. But that was close to twenty years ago too.
Gale’s older brother by six years. She came out to the orchards a lot back then and she always wanted to get a glimpse of her best friend’s older brothers. Clay especially.
The oldest.
The cutest in her eyes.
The leader always telling everyone what to do, but not in a mean way.
Just in an authoritative one.
She pulled a chair out and sat. “I’ve been helping friends with weddings for years.”
“So it’s not a paid job you’ve had?” he asked.
“I have received payment. I’m a teacher full time, but I’ve got summers off and it’s not as if I’ve got a ton of papers to grade that my five-year-olds are handing in during the school year.
I’m out of work early and have weekends off.
” She pulled the binder closest to her open.
“These are some weddings I’ve helped with. Hired and paid for my services.”
“Oh,” he said, flipping through quickly. No way he was even admiring all the details and work she’d put into making sure the tablecloths matched the right shade of roses.
Or the pumpkin favors she’d painstakingly hunted down for the fall theme she’d done last year.
“You’ve got experience. Got it,” he said.
“Can I ask how many weddings you’ve had here?”
“Two,” he said. “And they did everything themselves with my mother. She doesn’t have time between running the cafe on the property and everything she has going on.
My sister helps, but she’s busy too. It’s easier for me to hold other events not as detailed here, but I’m getting a lot of calls for weddings. ”
“You’ve got more booked?” she asked. She was literally bouncing in the chair.
“Yes.” He looked up at her. “Are you okay? Do you need to use the bathroom?”
“Huh?”
“You’re shaking the table, you’re wiggling so much.”
Talk about mortification. “I’m excited. This is awesome.
The place looks great. I’ve got all these ideas in my head already.
” She reached for the color swatches in the book closest to him, her fingers grazing his arm.
Oh wow, his skin was hot and she hoped her flush didn’t match the heat in her body over that innocent touch.
“I’ve got direct contacts for linens to change out. ”
He waved his hand. “I don’t need those details. The clients would work out those things. I just want to rent the space, but I guess nothing is as easy as I thought.”
“You can’t see the potential in this place?” she asked.
“I see potential. I don’t see flowers, colors, dancing, and cake. Or any other requirements needed here.”
She stood up and walked around the center of the room. The tables were off to the sides, showing a dance floor. “There are a lot of ways you can set it up. Will the bar provide more than cider?”
“Those are things we’ll work out. Or you will.”
“Me?” she squeaked.
“Yeah. You’re hired.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I’ve got to deal with something. Look around. I’m going to get my mother. She can fill you in on everything.”
Meredith jumped in place once, her feet wobbling as she landed, then she screeched and swatted her hands in front of her face.
He hurried toward her. “What is it? Are you allergic to bees?”
“It’s a fly,” she said. She threw her hands up and was waving them around to get the nasty gross insect away from her face. The buzzing made her gag on top of it.
“You’re afraid of a fly?” he asked. The look on his face was almost comical. Brows together, lips parted. Not really parted as his upper lip was curled in one corner.
“They are gross. Do you know they vomit on things to break it down and slurp it up?”
He slapped his hands together and killed the fly. Damn, that was fast.
“Yep,” he said. “Survival of the fittest. See how easy that was? My mother will be right in. Just have a look around.” He waved his hand. “Do whatever you need to.”
“Yeah,” she mumbled. “Thanks.”
What she needed was a cold shower after ten minutes in Clay’s presence.