Chapter 14
CHAPTER 14
T he next few days were a blur of bouquets, costume making, and errand running. Snow had steadily become a fixture in their daily routine, but Trinity was used to it. She didn’t need chains on her tires yet, just boots on her feet when she dodged the slushy puddles and snow-coated sidewalks lining the streets near Joyful Blooms.
To her delight, Josephine Major had stopped by the shop that week to help assemble bouquets and returned the following morning to assist around the store. Trinity wasn’t sure what had prompted the woman to volunteer her time, but she was grateful for it. It was homecoming weekend at the local high school and Rachel and Trinity were up to their elbows in boutonnieres and corsage orders. Having an extra hand was a blessing, and Josephine was always fun to have around.
Although Trinity did notice the woman acting just a bit more cantankerous than usual. Nothing too dramatic, just a few quips about slowing down against her will and taking it easy around the horses to avoid another injury. Doctor’s orders, apparently, which she hadn’t been thrilled to receive.
Trinity promised that other than a pricked finger from a thorny rose, there wasn’t much she could hurt herself on here. In a strange way, being in Josephine’s presence made Trinity feel like she was in closer proximity to Spencer. Not that they were all that similar in personality, but there was something about family that created a sense of connection, and when Clara came by on a Friday afternoon to ask her nana if she’d like to join her for lunch, Trinity felt a strange wave of envy pass through her.
“Would you like to join us?” Josephine had asked as she headed toward the door with her granddaughter, leather jacket in hand. “My treat.”
“Actually, I’m going to hunker down here and crank out a few more corsages before the kids get out of school. But thank you for the invite.”
No sooner had the two left when the door opened again, the small bell chiming above the entrance. Trinity almost didn’t look up, certain it was the two women doubling back to retrieve something they’d forgotten.
So, when Spencer coughed quietly to get her attention, she nearly threw the rose she’d been stripping across the workbench.
“Oh, my goodness. You startled me.” She pressed her hand to her chest and tried to recover some semblance of composure. “I was in a zone.”
“Have my sister and Nana already left?” He stepped up to the counter. He was in his typical cowboy attire—worn-in blue jeans, a flannel shirt, and white cowboy hat—but today he had on a big tan jacket over the ensemble that looked rustic yet comfy. For the first time, Trinity could clearly envision Spencer on the back of a horse, pushing cattle or whatever it was that he used to do back on the ranch before coming here. It made her realize the life he gave up when he’d come to his grandmother’s rescue, and something within Trinity made her want to somehow capture that in a design element within his house. She wasn’t sure how just yet, but she would think on it.
“They were just headed down to Cornerstone Café. If you jog, you should be able to catch up with them.”
“Are you planning to join them, too?”
She shook her head. “No. Too much to do around here. I’ve got a PB&J in the back with my name on it that I’ll eat whenever I get a break.”
He paused a moment, something brewing behind his chestnut eyes. But then he stepped back from the counter and tipped his hat. “Good to see you, Trinity.”
“You too,” she said before he was out the door, the flurry of snow dusting flakes onto his broad shoulders as he took her advice and picked up his pace to head toward the café. She watched him until he got to the corner of the street and turned, and she could no longer see him.
It was an oddly brief interaction but that was okay. They’d spent so much time together a few days ago that she doubted he wanted to hang around the shop again. Plus, he had plans to eat lunch with his family. He probably didn’t want to keep them waiting.
So, an hour later when she headed into the back to grab that peanut butter and jelly sandwich and she heard the bell chiming once again, she didn’t think it would be Spencer. He was probably well on his way back to the ranch, full from lunch.
“Trinity?” a man’s voice called out from the front of the store. “You still here?”
Just four words, but it was enough for her to recognize instantly. “Spencer?”
She could smell it before she could see it, that faint aroma she’d come to associate with her favorite meal at the café.
Spencer stood on the other side of the counter, brown bag in hand. “Turkey club with sweet potato fries, right?” There was a hopeful look on his face, asking for confirmation that he’d gotten it correct. “And there should be a side of ranch tucked in there, too.”
He slid the grease-dotted bag across the table.
“You got this for me?” She opened up the bag, immediately hit with a comfort-food smell that made her mouth water.
“Sounded better than PB&J.” He shrugged.
“You have no idea.” She rolled the top of the bag back down. “That was so thoughtful of you, Spencer. Truly.”
“Didn’t want you to work on an empty stomach.”
When was the last time someone had made sure she didn’t go hungry? As a mother, it was her duty to keep her own kids fed and full, and making family meals fell squarely on her shoulders now that she was a single mom. This was a small gesture, but she felt it so deeply that she could sense her chin begin to quiver.
“I hope that was okay for me to do,” Spencer said, taking note of the way she fought to hold back the tears.
“Yes, of course. I’m grateful.” She sniffed. “I don’t know why I’m so emotional over this.”
“Hey, I’ve been known to shed a tear over a perfectly cooked ribeye, so I get it.” His humor—and his understanding—was exactly what she’d needed in that moment.
“You’re a good friend, Spencer.” Something faltered in his smile when she called him a friend. “And a good man,” she added on.
The corner of his mouth hooked back up again, and a dimple pressed into his right cheek. “I hope you enjoy it.” He drummed his hands on the counter and stepped back. “I’ll catch up with you later tonight.”
“Oh?” She stilled. Did they have plans? That was something she would have remembered.
“Clara and Nana finished the quilts, so I’ll need some help deciding which one would look best in the house. There are two, and Clara said she’d take whatever one I didn’t want. Can I FaceTime you to get your opinion?”
“Of course,” she said. “Until then.”
With a tip of his hat and a dip of his chin, he grinned and echoed, “Until then.”
Both kiddos were in bed, and Trinity was heading that way soon, too.
But she still hadn’t heard from Spencer, and to be honest, she didn’t want to wash off her face of makeup or put on her pajamas until they’d already FaceTimed. So, she tidied up around the house more than she typically did for their nighttime routine. Started the dishwasher and laundered a small load of towels. She even dusted the blinds, something she hadn’t done in…had she ever dusted them thoroughly? Based on the state of the duster, she doubted it.
By eight-thirty she decided to put on a comfy sweatshirt and sweatpants, not quite pajamas but not the jeans and sweater she’d had on earlier in the day. She cozied in on the couch and picked up the book on the end table, the one that she’d started and stopped ten times over. It was hard for a book to hold her interest lately. One of her dear friends, Sarah Hart, was a librarian at the local library and was always suggesting the latest reads and romances. Trinity even checked a few of them out once. But the borrowing time came and went, and even renewing them didn’t give her enough time to finish the books. Her attention span just wasn’t very long.
As she tried to read the current book in her hands, she found her eyes moving across the pages, but retained nothing. That was because every part of her brain was elsewhere, with no room for any other inputs. She felt like that most days. Like she was operating at capacity.
She had lists going: finish that silly turkey costume by Monday, pack the classroom snack for Liam’s preschool, order extra long-stemmed red roses for an anniversary bouquet one of her customers placed last minute.
These were just her tasks and chores. Another huge part of her mind was preoccupied with Spencer’s house, but that wasn’t a chore at all. That part was exciting. She liked the creativity and appreciated how grateful he seemed each time she suggested something new. Maybe it was the validation she enjoyed so much. Having someone encourage her talent like this. She didn’t get much of that at home. Children could be brutal, but not intentionally. Mia had once told Trinity that the dress she wore to the Mother’s Day tea at school looked like she was a birthday party clown. That colorful frock went straight into the donation pile as soon as Trinity got home.
But Spencer was generous with his compliments. Sometimes, Trinity wondered if there was an ulterior motive there. He hadn’t tried anything, of course. He hadn’t even hugged her the other day, which had surprised her a little. To her, it felt appropriate to do so, and she almost had to hold herself back from stepping forward to wrap her arms around him.
Sighing, she turned the page of her book, realizing she couldn’t even recall the novel’s title or any part of the storyline, really. Time to put it down. And at just the right moment, it seemed, because as she transferred the book to the table and gathered a throw blanket to wrap around her shoulders, her phone rattled on the coffee table, illuminating with Spencer’s name and number.
Oh, she was nervous. If it had just been a phone call, it wouldn’t have been so nerve-racking. But this was a video call, and he’d be able to see her and she, him. With a waggle of her shoulders, a deep breath, and a pinch of her cheeks to give them a bit of a rosy glow, she clicked on the accept button.
“Hey.” His face came across the screen, toothy grin and all. Instantly, Trinity’s nerves subsided. There was just something so comforting about Spencer, and she couldn’t put her finger on it. “I hope it’s not too late.”
“Not at all,” she replied. “I was just doing some reading.”
“What book?”
She panicked a little. “Um, I…I honestly couldn’t tell you.”
“Page turner, huh?” he chuckled, and the phone jostled.
“I have a hard time focusing. To be totally honest, I don’t think I’ve finished an entire book since before I had kids. Kinda pathetic, I know.”
“Not pathetic. Understandable. I don’t imagine being a single mom leaves much time for anything else.” His throat pulled with a swallow. “Which is why I want to thank you for helping me with all of this house stuff. I know your time is limited, and it means a lot that you’re willing to give what little you have left to me.”
This man was too kind. Not a conversation went by without Spencer expressing his gratitude. She could get used to this.
“I’m not any busier than you or Josephine or any other person in Snowdrift. We all have our responsibilities and our roles. But coming together is what makes our community so special. I’m just doing my part.”
Through the screen, he just smiled, and something about his expression made Trinity’s heart do a little flip. Spencer was very handsome. She’d noticed that before. But his kindness and his generosity made him even more attractive. It was hard not to be drawn to a man of his character. His looks were just icing on the cake.
“I’ve got the quilts here if you want to see them.” He moved around and slipped from view before popping back onto the screen. “I think I know my favorite, but I’d like to know which one you prefer.”
“I’d love to see them.”
“Hold on. Let me see if I can figure out how to flip the camera around.”
It was a few seconds more of jostling and fumbling, but Spencer managed to successfully rotate the camera. Two beautiful, folded quilts came into view, the details on each making Trinity’s mouth slip open into a little O . She’d never seen so many different textures and tones in one blanket. And yet, everything came together so seamlessly, despite the many variations in fabrics and colors.
“Those are gorgeous,” she breathed. “Is there a story behind them?”
“Actually, there is. Every square on these quilts represents a person in our family tree. There’s lace from wedding veils and dresses, and pieces of the uniforms that a few of my relatives wore in battle. Other fabrics come from baptism outfits and first day of school clothes. Basically, scraps from every important milestone in our family’s long history. Nana Jo saved enough over the years to make one quilt for each of her grandchildren. Her plan was to give them to us when we got married, but so far, that hasn’t happened. Lance is probably the closest to meeting that milestone, but I guess she just couldn’t wait any longer. She gave him his last Christmas. All that’s left was mine and Clara’s.”
“Does your sister have her heart set on one?”
Spencer shrugged. “She said I could have first pick. She’s not particular, and not nearly as sentimental as I am when it comes to stuff like this.”
Trinity studied the quilts, admiring different aspects of each one. They were both so uniquely beautiful that he really couldn’t go wrong either way. But something about the one on the left with its deep forest greens, repeating patterns of denim, and more natural tones felt the most like Spencer in her mind. It was an easy decision.
“I like the one closest to the camera. The one on my left,” she said. “It’ll be perfect in your new home.”
Spencer smiled. “That’s the one I liked best, too, I just needed a little nudge in that direction.”
“You should trust your instincts.”
“I do,” he said. “I mean, when it comes to people, animals. Home décor? Yeah, not nearly as confident there.”
“Let me ask you something.” She burrowed deeper into the couch cushions and tugged the blanket tighter, making herself comfortable as she propped up the phone so she didn’t need to hold it with her hands. “Why were you leaning to the quilt on the left?”
“I felt something when I looked at it.”
“What was that feeling?”
“Peace, I think. Familiarity. I remember my Grandpa Harris wearing the very jeans that were used for some of the swatches. They were so well-worn, sometimes I think he slept in them. The other quilt has a few scraps from his plaid shirts, so he’s still represented on it. But that denim reminds me of watching him climb into the saddle and ride. It was always so inspiring to see him on a horse. Made me want to be like him. Made me want to be a cowboy.”
“I think you are like him,” Trinity said. “I remember your grandpa, Spencer. He was a good man. Not as boisterous as your nana, so I think a lot of times people didn’t realize how much he had to say, but he carried a quiet confidence that you embody so well.”
She wasn’t sure where the words came from, but apparently they’d been inside her, ready to come out.
“That’s probably the biggest and best compliment I’ve ever received. Thank you for saying that, Trinity.”
“It’s well earned,” she replied. “There aren’t many men left like the two of you. Genuine and dependable. Honest, what-you-see-is-what-you-get types. My Calvin was one of them.”
“I wish I’d had the chance to know him.”
Had they really never met? She supposed they hadn’t. Spencer had left town long before she and Calvin had gotten together. It just seemed like everyone in Snowdrift knew her late husband. He was a fixture in the community and a hero many times over as a CHP, rescuing stranded motorists and helping out in too many unfortunate mountainside accidents. His legacy of bravery was one that all in the town knew well.
“You would have liked him,” she finally said softly. “Everyone did.”
“Can you tell me about him?”
“Calvin?” She took a big breath. “He had a huge personality, and the fullest laugh. That’s what he liked most, making everyone laugh. Especially our kids. I can’t tell you how many mornings I’d wake up to fits of giggles coming from the living room. You would have thought the man was a comedian.” She let herself fall into the memories and get comfortable there. “The first time I met him, he had been trying to make me laugh, actually. He was in a dunk tank at one of our town’s community fairs. It was summer. I was terrible at hitting the target with a baseball. Tried a dozen times to knock him into the water. Finally, he reached out of the tank and pressed the button on his own just to put me out of my misery.” She couldn’t hide her smile as the nostalgia replayed in her mind. “But he had a serious side, too. He was great at his job. Everyone thinks of highway patrolmen as being the bad guys always writing tickets, and sure, that’s a small part of their job. But he liked keeping people safe. First and foremost, his family.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss, Trinity.”
It was a string of words she’d had recited to her a thousand times over at this point, but for some reason, it was the first time she felt the deep sincerity intended in the phrase. Because it was a loss. A huge one. And Spencer acknowledged that in a way that wasn’t trite or dismissive, just honest and true.
“Thank you, Spencer,” she said, her voice choked with emotion and gratitude. “He loved me and the kids so well.”
“You deserved it.”
Her lungs felt tight, her eyes stinging with tears she did not want to cry on camera. It took everything in her, but she held it all in. She tucked away the pieces of her heart and put on a smile, like always. “I’m lucky to have experienced it. I hope I’m not being greedy by admitting I’d love to be lucky enough to find a love like that again.”
“I don’t think wanting to love and be loved could ever be considered greedy,” Spencer replied. “It’s what we’re made for. And I don’t think you need luck to find it. I think it finds you.”