Chapter 24
24
The first day of the workweek had a bad reputation for understandable reasons—and this Monday was doing nothing to change that stereotype.
Noah mashed his lips together and threw the last shirt from the closet into his suitcase.
An uncooperative boss, a stratospheric stress level, and an appealing woman he had to leave behind tomorrow.
This was so not how he’d expected his visit to Hope Harbor to end.
He zipped the case shut with more force than necessary. Other than a few essentials he’d toss in tomorrow morning, he was ready to leave. Physically if not mentally.
At least Bren had agreed to ride with him to tonight’s meeting—not that there was much chance they’d find a resolution to their dilemma in the limited private minutes they’d have together.
Maybe because there wasn’t one.
A disheartening conclusion Bren may have already reached, based on her comments today.
But he wasn’t ready to throw in the towel yet. There had to be a way they could—
At a crash from the kitchen, he jerked. Took off at a gallop down the hall. Skidded to a stop on the threshold.
Dad was standing next to the sink, staring at the pieces of a broken glass bowl on the floor.
“What happened?” Noah crossed to him.
“I dropped your mom’s chocolate mousse bowl.” He gripped the edge of the sink with his uninjured hand and began to lower himself to the floor.
Noah grabbed his arm. “I’ll clean this up for you, Dad.”
“No. I can manage. I don’t want you to be late for your meeting.” He tugged free and gingerly got down on his knees.
Noah did likewise. “I don’t have to leave for another five minutes.” He picked up a shard of crystal as his pulse slowed. “I remember this bowl—and Mom’s Christmas Eve mousse. I used to look forward to it all year.”
“Me too. I came across the bowl in the back of the cupboard while I was searching for extra containers for leftovers. I’ll ask the casserole brigade to reduce the quantity after you leave, but it will still be more than I can eat.” He dipped his chin, cradling a piece of the shattered bowl in his palm. “I decided to wash this and use it for fruit. I knew it would remind me of your mom every time I saw it. Now it’s gone too.”
At the catch in his father’s voice, Noah’s throat swelled. “No one can take away our memories, though.”
“That’s true. And I’m grateful for those, along with all the years your mom and I had together. But it’s still hard to let go. Nothing fills the empty place left by the loss of someone you love.”
“I miss her too, Dad. No matter what craziness was happening at work, her upbeat attitude always lifted my spirits whenever she called.”
“That was your mom. She was a lemonade from lemons kind of woman.” His father reached over and laid a hand on his shoulder. “I hope you find a wife like that someday, Son. It’s what I pray for every night. Careers are fine, and worldly success is satisfying, but in the end all that really matters is love. Like the Good Book says.” He waved toward the door. “Now don’t keep Bren waiting. You go on to your meeting.”
“I’ll help you with this first.”
“No. I’d rather do it myself and have a chat with your mom while I’m at it.”
Noah hesitated, but only for a moment. If Dad wanted to commune with Mom, he wasn’t going to stand in the way. “Okay. I should be back no later than nine.”
“Don’t hurry on my account. I expect I’ll be engrossed all evening in the suspense novel I picked up on my last visit to Bev’s Book Nook.”
“Call if you need anything.”
“I’ll be fine.” He waved him off and went back to gathering up the scattered remnants of the bowl.
“Are you certain you can get back up with that bum wrist?”
“I’ll hoist myself up by holding on to the edge of the counter with the hand that works. Don’t fret about me.”
A difficult instruction to follow.
“I’ll try not to.” It was the best he could promise.
Once back on his feet, Noah picked up his keys from the counter where he’d left them earlier and let himself out the front door.
Bren was waiting beside his car as he hurried over.
“Sorry I’m a couple of minutes late. A slight emergency in the house.”
“Is your dad all right?”
“Yes.” As he opened her door, he filled her in on what had happened. “I felt bad for him. I know it’s only a material object, but it’s like another piece of Mom is gone. Losing her was hard for me, but it had to have been devastating for Dad. They were best friends as well as spouses.”
Bren’s features softened. “It must have been wonderful growing up with parents who loved each other that much.”
“It was. I took it for granted as a kid, but the older I get, the more I appreciate the importance of a loving home.”
“Count your blessings.” She slid into the car and pulled the door shut behind her.
She didn’t talk much during the short drive to Grace Christian, despite his attempts to draw her out. While she answered his questions about the birthday party, she didn’t offer any details. And she remained uncharacteristically subdued during the hour-and-a-half-long meeting that followed.
The other committee members more than made up for her preoccupation, however. There were six now, since each original member had recruited someone else, and all appeared to be enthused.
After John provided a general status report, Marci rattled off everything on her done and to-do lists in such machine-gun fashion, he’d have had difficulty following even if he hadn’t been distracted.
In the end, after being peppered with questions he mostly couldn’t answer, Noah got his run-expert colleague on the line, put him on speaker, and let the 5K committee members get the information they needed from the source. He joined in when necessary, but for the bulk of the meeting he doodled and watched Bren, who avoided eye contact as much as possible.
As the gathering wound down and Noah ended the call with his colleague in St. Louis, John smiled at him. “That was super helpful. Thanks to you and your friend, I think us neophytes may actually pull this off.”
“I’m pumped about it for sure—and I’m not even a runner.” Marci grinned. “We’ve been able to line up a ton of sponsors, both in Hope Harbor and from the surrounding area. And the number of people registering for the run is blowing me away. Where do we stand on the totals, Bren?”
When Bren didn’t respond, the woman seated beside her tapped her arm.
After pulling herself back from wherever she must have mentally wandered off to, Bren consulted a sheet in front of her. Provided the number of registrants for both the fun run and the serious route. “If you want my opinion, I think the T-shirt you designed has been a huge draw, Marci.”
Several other people seconded that.
“I enjoyed working on it. It was a pleasant change of pace from my usual duties.” Marci reached for her purse. “John, are we about done? I have to stop at the market on my way home. Are we the only family that is forever running out of paper towels?”
“I think it’s a function of having little ones in the house.” John’s mouth quirked as he closed his notebook. “Yes, we’re finished. Noah, on behalf of everyone on the committee and at Helping Hands, thanks for your willingness to tap your friend’s knowledge for us and act as a go-between with him for the many questions I texted you over the past week. We also appreciate your help in planning our routes.”
Everyone in the room applauded.
He waved the thanks aside. “I didn’t do much. You all clocked the real hours. You’ll have to let me know how the event comes off.”
“We will. And we’ll send you a T-shirt, if you’ll give me your address.” Marci pulled out her pen again.
“Why don’t I buy one instead?”
“Nope. It’s on the house.” She waited, pen poised.
Rather than argue, he recited his address.
“Got it. I wish you could join us, but that would be a bit of a trek for a short event—unless you had another incentive to come back.” She gave Bren a sidelong peek.
If his dad’s tenant noticed, she didn’t let on.
But apparently the electricity that was obvious to the two of them was also being picked up by others.
“I doubt I’ll be able to fit in another trip that soon. I’d be here if I could, though. It would be fun to—”
The door to the conference room cracked open, and Reverend Baker stuck his head in. “Greetings, everyone. Is the meeting winding down?”
“Yes. Your timing is perfect.” John motioned him in.
“Too bad that doesn’t carry over to his golf game.” Father Murphy leaned around the minister’s shoulder, eyes twinkling. “The timing of his backswing and downswing could use some work.”
Reverend Baker shot him a disgruntled glance. “If you’re going to talk about golf, I could bring up your bounce problem with putting ... but I won’t.”
“Thanks for nothing.” The padre smirked at his fellow cleric, then addressed the group. “On a more pleasant note, we come bearing gifts.” He nudged the minister into the room.
Reverend Baker entered, and Father Murphy followed, bearing a bakery box and a white bag. He set both on the conference table.
“The good father and I took in an early movie in Coos Bay, and with his eagle eye for sweets, he spotted a new dessert shop.” The minister tapped the logo on the box. “He insisted we indulge.”
“I didn’t hear you protest very much.”
“In the interest of maintaining harmony between us, I capitulated. However, I have to say the petits fours were very tasty. So we bought a dozen to share, as a thank-you for all your work on the 5K run. Help yourself to coffee too.” He motioned toward a coffee maker in the corner of the room, a pod-filled stand beside it.
The meeting broke up in earnest as Father Murphy flipped the lid on the box and pulled napkins and plastic forks from the bag.
Noah tried to mask his impatience.
Socializing with anyone but Bren hadn’t been in his plans for tonight, but it would be rude to take off without sampling the treat the clerics had been kind enough to provide.
Bren must have come to the same conclusion, because she selected a petit four and aimed a smile at the two pastors. “These look delicious.”
“I can vouch for that.” Father Murphy took one too.
“Yes, he can.” Reverend Baker arched an eyebrow at him. “That’s his third one.”
“I wouldn’t have gone overboard if we had pastries like this closer to home and I could pace myself. Much as I love Sweet Dreams’s cinnamon rolls and brownies, it would be nice to have a few fancier choices.”
“You may be in luck.”
As Bren spoke, all the heads in the room swiveled her direction.
“What do you know that we don’t?” Father Murphy leaned toward her.
“While Joe’s out for surgery, Emma’s going to put her French-pastry skills to use. She called to share the news late this afternoon.”
“French pastries?” John picked up a fork from the table. “That will add a whole new dimension to Sweet Dreams.”
“You should all check it out in a week or two, after she settles in.” Bren swiped up a dab of icing that was clinging to the crinkled paper cup holding her petit four.
“Count on it.” Father Murphy lifted his face heavenward and gave a blissful sigh. “French pastries in Hope Harbor. What a blessing.”
“Not for your waistline.” Reverend Baker sent him a stern look. “You’re supposed to be watching your cholesterol.”
“An occasional French pastry won’t hurt me. I could buy one to console myself after a bad day on the links.”
“In that case, you’ll definitely be at Sweet Dreams every Thursday, after our round.”
“Ha ha.” The padre continued eating.
Noah finished his petit four at the same time Bren did and tipped his head toward the door. Since Marci had slipped out a few minutes ago, there was no obligation for them to linger any longer.
After a nod, she disposed of her napkin and fork and said her goodbyes while he did the same.
He waited until they were halfway down the hall to speak. “Sorry about the delay. I know you wanted to go straight home after the meeting.”
“The treat didn’t hold us up for long. But I do have to be up early tomorrow.” She tucked her notebook closer to her chest. “What time are you leaving?”
“Also early. I promised Dad I’d take him to The Perfect Blend first, but it will be a quick in and out. On the plus side, it will give me a chance to see you again before I head out.” He pushed the outside door open and let her precede him.
“Mornings are crazy at The Blend. About all I’ll be able to do is wave at you.”
“Then maybe we can say a proper goodbye tonight.”
Her gaze met his. Skittered away. “If you mean what I think you mean, that’s not a smart idea.” She picked up her pace toward the car.
He lengthened his stride to keep up with her. “I’ve been thinking about our kiss day and night.”
“I have too. That’s why it’s not smart to repeat it.”
He stopped at the car, spirits tanking. There went any hopes of another kiss that he could tuck in his memory. “I’d stay longer if I could, Bren.”
“It wouldn’t matter.” She gave a stiff shrug. “Even if your boss had granted your request, in a week you’d leave anyway. Sooner may be better.”
“That’s not how I see it.” He took her hand and searched her eyes in the moonlight. Unless he was misreading her signals, her longing mirrored his.
Her throat worked as she looked up at him. “Don’t make me want what I can’t have any more than I already do, Noah.” Her words came out choked. Anguished. “We need to give ourselves space to think. Kissing will only muddle our minds.”
He couldn’t argue with her logic.
But he didn’t have to like it.
And how could he leave without holding her close once more? Without burying his face in the purple-hued hair that had gone from off-putting to endearing? Without pressing his lips to hers and—
All at once, she jerked back. As if she didn’t trust him—or herself—to resist the temptation to exchange more kisses. “I’m going to w-walk home.”
What?
“But it’s dark out.”
“This is Hope Harbor. I’m more worried tonight about my emotional safety than my physical safety.” A breeze ruffled her hair, and she backed up a step. “I’ll see you at The Blend tomorrow.” She spun around and strode away.
Panic bubbled up inside him. “Wait!”
She paused. Angled partway toward him.
“You’ll stay in touch after I go back until we come to some decisions, right? If I call or email, you’ll respond?”
“Within reason.”
That wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.
“I’ll hold you to that.”
“I always keep my promises, Noah.” Then she pivoted again and disappeared into the night.
Leaving him alone in the darkness, with only the taste of salt from the briny sea air on his lips instead of the sweetness of Bren’s kiss.
And unless he could figure out how to deal with his conflicting priorities, the lovely, intriguing woman who’d so unexpectedly entered his life would soon exit it forever.