Chapter Thirty-four

Stan’s cell phone rang at exactly the day and time when he knew who was calling, and why.

He flipped it open and spoke without looking at the caller ID. “Let me guess. Gnorman has been found in someone’s garden, and he’s got another note.”

Amber’s gleeful squeal pierced right through his head. “Yes! But you won’t guess! He’s in Becky’s garden, he’s got a note, and he’s got the trophy!”

Stan should have smiled, but it wouldn’t happen.

He should have been happy that it was finally over and life could get back to normal, but he didn’t want normal. He was tired of normal.

As angry as he’d been about the committee’s scheme, after he’d resigned himself to go with the flow for Amber’s sake, he’d actually enjoyed the foray of chasing the gnome all over town—because he’d been doing the chasing with Amber. Being the target of the matchmaking scheme had brought his relationship with Amber to a deeper level with all the holding hands, cuddling, and the hugging. He’d especially enjoyed kissing her. She’d been distant the night he’d bought his new jeans, but after that, every time he’d kissed her, it only got better and better. One time, when he dropped her off at her townhouse and she told him not to bother coming in, she’d kissed him in the truck in such a way that he’d sat behind the wheel long after she’d gone inside, grinning like a besotted idiot until he remembered to start the engine and drive home.

It couldn’t end. He wanted it all, and he wanted it with Amber.

A week ago he’d tried to get Amber to open up and talk to him about the possibility of marrying him. He’d almost got her to start talking when his mother had interrupted them, and after that every time he tried to work toward the topic of marriage, Amber steered the conversation away. It was almost like she was doing it on purpose.

Finding the trophy and having Gnorman back where he should be would make what was happening between them plummet to normal.

He couldn’t go back.

Today he had to close the book on the saga of the Gnome Gnapper and open the book for the story of the rest of their lives. He didn’t know how he could make that happen, but he had to think of something.

This time he didn’t rush to beat any speed records on the way to Amber’s store. He couldn’t believe how slowly he made the trip, for the first time praying for red lights.

Still, he couldn’t think of a thing to say.

All the way from Amber’s store to Becky’s house, he remained silent. Beside him, Amber nearly bounced in the seat. Conversation would have been useless.

It was almost poetic justice that when they found Gnorman in Becky’s garden, the costume of the day was a tuxedo. Stan almost checked around the yard for wedding bells, but he knew that would have been more than Amber could handle right now.

Becky grinned from ear to ear, surrounded by a crowd of people taking pictures of her with Gnorman and the trophy, something she should have been able to do on the first day of spring, and now it was nearly fall.

Amber ran to Gnorman. “Excuse me,” she said without waiting for an obvious pause in the picture taking, and pulled the envelope, the last envelope, from Gnorman’s hand.

She ran back to him and tore it open with shaking hands.

She looked up at him with the biggest smile Stan had ever seen, her eyes sparkling so brightly that he wanted to grab her and kiss her and not care who was watching.

“This is it! The last note!”

Stan stood and read it beside Amber, her hands shaking so much he could barely make out the words.

With the trophy Becky’s delighted

With love, all are excited

gnorman will cheer

When the wedding is near

So we hope everyone’s invited

Amber gasped. “Wedding? Oh . . . no . . .”

Stan’s stomach dropped. All the notes until now had been almost nonsense, even fun. A blatant statement saying that now everyone anticipated their wedding wasn’t what he’d expected.

He wasn’t ready. They hadn’t talked about it. They hadn’t exchanged words of love and devotion. He hadn’t told her how much he loved her. There’d been no workup, no buildup.

This would be the time to propose, but he wasn’t prepared.

He wore old jeans, so worn out that parts of them were threadbare. His T-shirt had a hole over his stomach. He still wore his steel-toed work boots. He had oil in his hair. After working in the grease pit in this heat, he needed a shower, really bad. He also didn’t have time to shave this morning.

The romantic park-like setting of Becky’s yard beckoned him, calling for the right moment, and this wasn’t it. All the color had drained out of Amber’s face, and she started to back away from him.

He cleared his throat. “We have to talk,” he said, trying to keep the escalating panic out of his voice as he nudged Amber away from the crowd, toward the gazebo. Away from the crowd of people standing there staring at them, they sat side by side on the wooden bench inside.

“About that note, and the wedding reference . . .” His voice skipped while he struggled to find the right words.

Amber shook her head and rested her fingers on his arm. “It’s okay. I know what you’re going to say. I understand.”

His heart leapt. “You do? That’s great.” He wanted to jump up and cheer, like the time at the last ball game when his team scored the winning run. They were getting married!

Amber nodded. “It’s okay, I don’t know her name, but when the day comes when the time is right, I’m sure you’ll be very happy together.”

His breath caught. “What are you talking about?”

“When we were shopping, and you said you wanted to get married, and that’s okay. I’m sure you’ll find your Miss Right really soon, and I’ll be very happy for you.” Her eyes started to go glassy. “I really will.” She sucked in a breath and turned away.

Stan’s stomach bottomed out. She didn’t look very happy. In fact, she started to cry.

He reached up to brush his fingers against her chin, then nudged her cheek just enough to make her turn and look at him.

A tear rolled down her face.

Stan thought he might throw up.

“I have found my Miss Right, Amber. It’s you. It’s you I want to get married to.”

“Me? But you can’t. It won’t work.”

“Of course it will work. Please don’t tell me we have to get to know each other better because we don’t. It will be perfect.”

“No, you don’t understand. I can’t. I might have to leave. I can’t.”

“That’s okay. We can plan around it.”

She shook her head. “You don’t understand. I might have to leave Bloomfield. Permanently. At least permanently for four years.”

“I don’t understand. Are you in some kind of trouble? Why didn’t you tell me?” The only thing he could think of that a person would have to leave for, suddenly with no notice, was witness protection, and nothing ever happened in Bloomfield that would warrant the need for that.

“Do you remember when I first started my business, instead of getting a loan from the bank like you did, I got a lower interest loan from a relative?”

“Yes. Some uncle. In . . .” He struggled to remember. It was a big city, really far away. “. . . Chicago. What’s wrong? Is your uncle in trouble?”

“No. He’s doing really well. So well that everything has gone to his head, and he’s gone power crazy. When my parents died, he changed the terms on my loan, and when the bank wouldn’t give me a loan to pay him off, I had to agree to his terms. Then about a year ago, he raised the interest rates and made it so I couldn’t default in any way, not even bankruptcy. I don’t know how legal it is, but if I can’t afford to make the payments, I certainly can’t afford a lawyer. When I first took out the loan, I foolishly signed a contract that if for any reason I can’t pay off the loan, with no late payments being acceptable, the terms are that I’ll go work for him at a wage agreed acceptable for the position he gives me until the loan is completely paid off.”

“Why did you agree to something like that?”

“Because he’s family—my mother’s only brother—so I didn’t get a lawyer. I just trusted him and signed it. At first it was easy to pay him back. But when my mother died, everything changed.”

“But you’re doing okay now, aren’t you?”

“Barely. I have no safety zone. I’m considering giving up my townhouse and using my studio at the store to live in, except I’m caught up in the zoning bylaws.”

“Would you be okay if you didn’t have to pay rent?”

“I’m not letting you pay my rent.”

He smiled. “No, but if we got married, you’d live at my house, and you wouldn’t have to pay rent anymore.”

She stiffened and backed away from his touch. “Free rent is not a reason to get married.”

Stan squeezed his eyes shut. He’d done that wrong. “I didn’t mean it like that.” He opened his eyes and moved closer to her. “Then what about the loan? If we got married, it would be my loan too. I’d help you pay for it.”

She stood and stared down at him. “I won’t be a liability to you, Stan. You do so much for me, I can’t let you do that too. That’s way too much money. I won’t start a marriage to you, or to anyone, in the red.”

His stomach flip-flopped. He’d done that wrong too. “Then how about if we go to the bank, and I’ll cosign a loan to pay off your uncle. If you’re making the payments now, you’ll still be making them. It won’t cost me anything.”

“That’s just as much a liability. Why are you doing this? You should be asking for a prenup to keep your own business safe, not willingly bury yourself in my troubles and debts.”

He cleared his throat. “Because I love you, Amber. Like a friend I’ve grown up with, and the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. I love you, and I want to marry you.”

“No . . . you can’t. . . .”

“But I do.”

She jumped to her feet. “You can’t. It won’t work.”

Before he could tell her it could if she’d only give it a chance, she turned and ran out of the gazebo.

Without thinking, Stan followed his reflexes and ran after her. If he didn’t stop her, she would keep going, right out the gate and walk all the way home, because he’d driven her there. It was about six miles to her house, but she was stubborn enough to do it. Even if he embarrassed them both and drove beside her, once she started walking, he’d never convince her to listen to him.

Even with his steel-toed work boots, he still ran faster than Amber. It didn’t take long to run in front of her and extend his arms so she couldn’t go around him, and he forced her to stop.

Just as she did, a voice came from beside Gnorman.

“Stan? Amber? What are you two doing?”

“Mother . . .” he ground out between his teeth. With his arms still extended, he turned to see his mother, camera in hand, with Becky, Sherry, and Pamela standing behind Gnorman and the trophy.

Just the people he didn’t want to see this.

“What’s going on?” his mother snapped at him.

He opened his mouth, trying to sort all the thoughts in his head, when Amber turned around to face the other ladies.

“I want to go home,” she sniffled. “Would someone mind driving me?”

Pamela smiled at Amber, turned to glare at Stan, and then smiled back at Amber. “I’ll take you home, dear.”

Stan let his arms drop to his sides as Pamela and Amber left.

He crossed his arms over his chest, stiffened to his full height, and glared at his mother. “This is all your fault.”

“My fault? It looks like you’re the one who upset her.”

He pointed to Gnorman and the miniature tuxedo.

“This is the fault of you and your crazy matchmaking scheme. Don’t give me that look. We found out about it.”

“It wasn’t my scheme. It was Sylvia’s idea. I only helped.”

“Along with the entire garden club operating committee.”

His mother gasped. “How did you know about that?”

“I just do. Look what you’ve done. She wasn’t ready yet, and then you had to write that stupid wedding note.”

Before he said something he would really regret, he spun and stormed out of Becky’s yard.

More than anything he wanted to go to Amber’s and try to talk it out reasonably, but he knew that Pamela would stay with her, so there was no chance of that. This was a conversation that needed to happen in private.

He started his truck and roared off home. Halfway there, his phone rang. He checked the caller ID, saw that it was his mother, and threw the phone in the backseat.