Chapter 14 Darcy
DARCY
After watching the father-daughter team do their thing for a few more minutes, I head back outside to hang out with Michael. But as soon as I sit down, my phone starts buzzing again.
“Is it your sister?” he asks me as I pull my phone out of my pocket.
“It is,” I say, looking down at her name flashing again.
This is a lot of times for her to call without texting. I’m not exactly worried, but…
“Why don’t you talk with her?” he encourages me. “Those two will be hard at work until they get kicked out.”
“Thanks,” I tell him, sliding my thumb across the screen to accept the call. “Mandy?”
“There you are!” she yells.
“Hey,” I say, pulling the phone back slightly from my ear. “Is everything okay?”
“I don’t know,” she says. “Is it?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask her.
“How could you send me that photo and then not call and tell me what’s going on?” she demands.
“What photo?” I ask her.
“That coy little photo of Christmas milkshakes,” she says. “Where you’re clearly wearing an engagement ring.”
Busted.
My heart stops beating for a second.
“Hello?” she says.
“Oh,” I say, glancing over at Michael.
I can’t say anything to her in front of him, and she’s yelling into the phone so loudly I’m pretty sure anyone within ten feet can hear her.
“Oh?” she echoes. “That’s all you have to say? Oh?”
“Well, I wanted to talk to you about that,” I say carefully.
“I’m all ears,” she says. “I didn’t even know you were dating anyone.”
“Mandy, can we talk about this later?” I ask her, knowing it’s probably hopeless.
“No, we can’t talk about it later,” she wails predictably. “Who is he? Why don’t you want to tell me about him? Is this mystery man worthy of my baby sister?”
I need an out, or this is all going to come crashing down.
“Guacamole,” I whisper.
Guacamole was a special word of ours when we were kids. It started because for some reason the word tickled my funny bone, and I couldn’t hear it without laughing.
It went on to become something Mandy would whisper to me as a sort of we’re-in-this-together when we were scared, or as a code word to cover for each other if our parents were wondering who got into the cookies.
“What’s going on, Darcy?” she asks, her voice softer and more serious.
“Everything’s fine,” I tell her. “I promise. Let me call you tonight?”
“Okay,” she says. “I love you, you know?”
“I know,” I tell her. “I love you too, champ.”
I hang up and Michael seems to be pointedly looking away. I guess he caught on to some of that.
“Derek and I didn’t really tell anyone we were dating,” I say weakly.
“It’s understandable,” he says. “You work together. So how are they doing in there?”
Relieved at the change of subject, I jump right into a description of the tiny solar system Derek and J.B. are creating.
Michael tells me about some of the amazing ornaments Derek dreamed up over the years. When he pushes the box of doughnuts my way, I take one and close my eyes as the buttery-sweet treat melts in my mouth.
It’s okay to enjoy this, I tell myself. Perfect days only come along once in a while.
And it might be a long, long time before I see another one like this.
I’ll be okay when it’s over, won’t I?
Snow is falling softly outside the tent as I finish my second cup of coffee.
Michael has more visitors at the table, but they don’t seem to mind me daydreaming and people-watching while they gossip about all the events in town.
Up on the stage someone has busted out a guitar and they’re playing “Jingle Bells” while the littlest kids dance around in the snow.
Maddie from the lodge is there with little Dylan, and they’re twirling each other around and laughing like there’s no tomorrow, while Jake Stone sits on a bench and watches them, his lips twitching like he wants to laugh too but doesn’t quite dare.
After a moment, Maddie whispers something to Dylan, and he runs for his dad, grabbing him and dragging him to Maddie so the three of them can continue their dance.
“Hey,” J.B. calls out from across the lot.
She and Derek are heading our way, each carrying a cardboard box.
“We got brunch,” Derek tells me with a wicked smile I don’t think I’ve ever seen before.
He sets his box down on the table and I can see why—it looks like he bought something from every single booth.
J.B. puts hers down next to his and I’m sure of it.
There are doughnuts, little powdered sugar-covered balls, bagels stuffed with cheese and pepperoni, miniature kielbasa sausage links, some kind of pull-apart buns, baked apples, and a whole loaf of something that must be Paula Littlewolf’s pumpkin bread.
“Amazing,” I moan.
“I thought you might like to try a little bit of everything,” Derek says, pulling up a chair next to mine.
He starts putting food on plates and I’m overjoyed when I realize that he’s fixing a plate for himself too.
We’re just getting settled when a lady with a long white braid and a tartan puffer coat comes bustling over.
“Oh, Derek,” she says. “It’s so nice to have you home. I wanted to let you know that you won your item in the silent auction.”
“Isn’t that great?” he says, nodding.
“I guess I’d better not ruin the surprise,” she says, glancing around the table. “But you can come pick it up Monday at noon.”
“Oh,” I say quickly. “I’m so sorry, but he can’t be there at noon. Can I pick it up for him? Or can he come later in the day?”
“Of course, dear,” the lady says. “Anytime after noon is fine. The library’s open until eight.”
“Thank you,” Derek tells her.
“You’re very welcome,” she says fondly before heading back toward the library at a brisk pace.
“What’s going on at noon?” Derek asks me.
I blink at him like he’s lost his mind, because I think maybe he has.
“Monday at noon,” I say. “You know. You have your weekly Priority One VIP call every Monday at noon.”
Derek’s face breaks into a smile, and Michael chuckles.
“I’m a Priority One VIP, huh?” Michael asks, turning to Derek.
“That’s my weekly call with my grandfather,” Derek tells me.
What?
“It’s not such a big deal,” Michael says, waving it off. “You call me when you can.”
“We’ve moved board meetings for that,” I realize out loud.
“Some things are more important than board meetings,” Derek says, shrugging.
He’s been calling his grandfather every Monday ever since I’ve known him, arranging meetings and even travel so he would be free at that time.
Derek grabs a slice of pumpkin bread and polishes it off in two bites while I stare at him, willing my mind to put itself back together again around this new information.
I feel like I’ve gotten to know more about this man in the last three days on Angel Mountain than I have in three years of working with him night and day.
“What happened to your sweet tooth, baby?” he asks me, winking. “I was hoping to see what you think of Paula’s pumpkin bread.”
Baby…
Shaking my head in wonder, I hold out my hand for the slice he’s offering.
And when his fingers brush mine, I get that feeling again like I’m on a roller coaster.
And I don’t ever want it to end.