SOMETHING WAS GOING on here. There was a current underscoring this conversation strong enough to tow swimmers out to drown, and Mariah didn’t know what it was. But as soon as Abigail said weddings, Nelson growled. Honestly, she couldn’t think of a more accurate word to describe it.
It gave her pause. The romance destination idea was good. More than good. This town could be perfect; it had lots of big old houses that Abigail swore were set for bed-and-breakfast locations. There were four lovely churches and the town gazebo for wedding and vow-renewal ceremonies, as well as the mill that Abigail was renovating. The small river that wound its way along one side of the town might not be big enough for yachts, but it was pretty, and could handle canoes and kayaks. A couple of nice restaurants, a few more activities for visitors, and this could be stellar.
But if Nelson was opposed, she didn’t know if the plan would go ahead. She had no idea how much influence he wielded over his grandmother or the rest of the people in the town. She had the definite impression he didn’t like her.
Well, he hadn’t liked her when she told him to get lost. And yes, that was fair. But since they’d served dinner, she’d felt his animosity like a force field around him.
Could he torpedo this whole idea?
There was one way to find out.
Abigail and Nelson were staring at each other like tomcats considering a fight.
“Is this a problem?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
The answers crashed over each other.
“Nelson,” Abigail said. It was the I’m the parent, you’re crossing the line kind of voice that mothers and fathers had used since Adam and Eve.
“You know...” He was growling again.
“I do. But it’s been long enough. I’ve been trying to find some way to save this town. This is our best opportunity. Can you get past it?”
Mariah wondered if she should have excused herself. But the clash between them had come up so suddenly... She wasn’t sure what the issue was, but apparently, it was major. And whatever it was, it was going to have a big effect on her plans for this next year.
Nelson stood. “It’s not up to me, is it? You’ve already made your decision. Just keep me out of it, please. Excuse me, Ms. Van Delton, Grandmother.” He turned and left, leaving Abigail and Mariah staring at the doorway where he’d disappeared.
“I’m sorry,” Abigail said. “I shouldn’t have sprung that on him. You must think we’re crazy.”
Mariah shook her head. “I’m not the one who’s upset here. But I need to ask, are you sure this is a good idea?”
Abigail nodded firmly. “Absolutely. Your idea of a romance destination is wonderful. I’ll get the committee on board and you can tell us what we need to do.”
Mariah’s glance drifted back to the doorway.
“And your grandson?” Mariah wasn’t sure Abigail had any other family. She had no desire to find herself in the middle of a family drama.
Abigail sighed. “As you can tell, he has an issue, yes. But it’s time he moved on. He won’t do anything to stop us.”
Mariah was afraid her skepticism must be showing on her face.
Abigail smiled. “I’ve known Nelson all his life. He’ll be fine, once he gets accustomed to the idea. And this shouldn’t affect him at all, should it? I don’t imagine any of your ideas for romance involve a veterinarian.”
Mariah had a quick vision of Nelson, soft lighting, romantic music, and shook her head. No, she wasn’t thinking of any romance involving a veterinarian. Definitely not. And not in the way Abigail meant, either. She had limited her vision of romance to people, not animals. She didn’t foresee bringing any livestock into the picture.
Though they could—and she slammed the door on any thoughts about indulging people’s pet wedding fantasies, Persians in veils or terriers in tuxes. Maybe later.
“Nelson’s work won’t be affected, so he really has nothing to be upset about. He just needs time.”
Mariah had the feeling Abigail was trying to convince herself.
Abigail shook her head. “I should have known better than to make coq au vin. Please, enjoy your meal—I’ll take Nelson something later, when he’s cooled down a bit.
“Now, what do you need from me to make this work?”
NELSON STALKED ACROSS the driveway to the carriage house. He could not believe his grandmother was doing this.
He veered between frustration and anger. He was angry that his grandmother ruined what would have been a spectacular dinner by bringing up the one topic guaranteed to give him heartburn. He was frustrated that she had made such a big plan without talking to him. And he could not believe that Mariah—Mariah—was the one still at the dining room table instead of him.
He wished Mariah had been truly lost.
He stormed into his apartment. Yes, being angry with Mariah was something he could get on board with. She’d annoyed him when she turned down his offer of help. Maybe she wasn’t lost, but she could have been polite. And here she was, ready to bring the chaos and stress and havoc of elaborate weddings to Carter’s Crossing.
He knew exactly what that was like. And the people who got hurt as a result.
He didn’t want something like that here.
He growled and threw himself in a chair.
If his grandmother was determined, he had about as much chance of changing her mind as he did of stopping the seasons from turning, but he had to try. There had to be another option, some other way to make Carter’s Crossing come back to life.
Ways that didn’t include Mariah Van Delton.
He just had to think of them before his grandmother got her plan in motion. No problem.
Sometime later there was a knock on his door, and no idea had come. He considered ignoring it, but he knew it was his grandmother, and she had her own key.
He stood and strode over to let her in. He stepped back, arms crossed on his chest, frowning.
She ignored his frown. She was holding a dish, and he didn’t need to examine the contents to know she’d brought him some of her coq au vin. But no chicken, no matter how well done, was going to make up for her bombshell.
“I know.” She shoved the dish toward him. “But don’t cut off your nose to spite your face. You’ll want to eat this eventually.”
He took the dish from her hands and set it on his kitchen countertop. When he turned, she’d sat herself down in one of his easy chairs.
“You know I didn’t drop the news on you this way by accident.”
He stiffened. He should have realized, but he’d been too upset to think it through.
“After tomorrow, the news will be spreading all over town. I wanted you to have a heads-up.”
He opened his mouth to ask why she hadn’t told him herself, when she held up a hand.
“I didn’t want to tell you, and have you start an argument. You are a stubborn and determined man, Nelson, and I didn’t want you to try to stonewall this. I wasn’t going to change my mind, and I did not want the fatigue of endless arguments.”
It wasn’t much of a stretch to discover where Nelson had learned his determination. He leaned back and crossed his arms again. If his grandmother was going to take over the conversation, he wasn’t going to help.
“It’s a done deal. Mariah’s grandfather is an old friend of your grandfather’s and mine, from our college days.” A pained look passed over her face. His grandfather had died long before Nelson was born, so he had no memories of him. Grandmother had never married again, so the family assumed it had been a love match, one that she’d never gotten over.
“Gerry Van Delton has a very successful event planning business in New York City. His company handles professional sports events, Hollywood premiers, political fundraisers—all much larger events than anything we could do in Carter’s Crossing. When I was trying to think of something we could do here, something to keep the town alive along that line, I reached out to him.
“He thought that a wedding destination was something we could manage and offered his granddaughter as a consultant for a year to get us up and running.”
“Why?” Nelson asked. “Why send someone?” It was more assistance than seemed reasonable.
His grandmother stared past him; her lips pursed. “I don’t know. We were close, back at school, but I haven’t seen him in years. There’s more to it. He’s not someone to be generous to his own detriment.”
She drew her gaze back to him. “I know he had some issues with his own children. He may be wanting to test Mariah in some way. I’m not sure.”
Nelson considered. Maybe Mariah couldn’t pull this off, and he wouldn’t have to worry about it. But she didn’t look or act incompetent.
And while he’d be happy not to have big production weddings in Carter’s Crossing, he didn’t want his grandmother to sink money into an endeavor that wouldn’t pay off. Because if she was backing this plan, he knew she’d be putting up cash.
“And, Nelson, it’s time.”
And that took all those kind thoughts and blew them away.
“I’m fine, Grandmother.”
She looked down her nose. It took talent to do that when he was standing, and she was in a chair. “If you were fine, you wouldn’t have left the house in a tantrum. Without eating your dinner.”
He wanted to argue that he hadn’t been in a tantrum, but he had walked out without his favorite meal.
“I don’t have to discuss this with you.” He didn’t.
“Nelson, it’s been three years now. You didn’t commit a crime. No one died. You were thoughtless, and you hurt someone, but I think you’ve served your time.”
Nelson held back an angry response with effort. He knew what he’d done, and what he hadn’t done. That wasn’t the point. Or at least, it wasn’t the only point.
Getting married was a big deal. It was a major commitment, and one that shouldn’t be entered into lightly. Having a big, elaborate party simultaneously added tremendous pressure to an already stressful time. It could result in some terrible decisions. Decisions he’d made.
Made with the help of Sherry Anstruthers.
He couldn’t condone that kind of thing. And that was exactly what his grandmother was wanting to rebuild the town on. She couldn’t really expect him to support that, could she?
“I heard the two of you in the kitchen.” He saw from his grandmother’s face that he knew exactly what he was talking about.
“How could you invite someone like that, someone like Sherry Anstruthers, to wreak havoc on Carter’s Crossing?”
“Oh, Nelson.” She shook her head and sighed. “Mariah is not like that woman.”
Nelson snorted. He’d heard the words himself. She was just like that woman. That was what she wanted to be.
“Nelson, people make mistakes. You made a mistake. But it doesn’t mean you’re a bad person.”
Nelson wished he was more sure of that.
“You want proof that Mariah is different? Well, the last wedding she worked on, before coming up here, was Zoey’s.”
More white noise. Nelson tried to understand what his grandmother was saying.
“Zoey’s? My Zoey’s?”
She nodded.
His mouth opened, but no words came out.
Zoey was married?
It had been three years. They hadn’t kept in touch. But...
But she’d moved on, found someone else and gotten married—with a wedding planner. After...after everything.
Nelson dropped into his seat.
“You didn’t know?”
He hated the sympathy in Abigail’s voice. He hated that it implied that she worried about him, that he wasn’t strong and he wasn’t over it.
Maybe he wasn’t.
She shook her head at him.
“I guess you do need more time. I didn’t realize. I’m sorry that Mariah has upset you. But, Nelson, this is happening. Prepare yourself. It shouldn’t affect you so perhaps we just need to agree to disagree on this. I won’t ask for your assistance, and you won’t take Tiny and come into town stealing all the wedding paraphernalia until your heart grows three sizes, okay?”
She stood up to leave.
“That dog was named Max, and he wasn’t a Great Dane.”
She opened his door and headed out.
“And I’m not the Grinch!”
MARIAH HUNG UP her suit in the wardrobe in her room. She’d unpacked now and was reconsidering her wardrobe choices. Did everyone in this town dress up all the time?
She shrugged. She’d get her roommate to send her some more of her clothes if she needed.
That gave her a thought, and she went over to her phone. She added a notation to her list: clothing store. If this was going to be a destination, there should be clothes available for emergencies. Not wedding dresses, though if they got far enough along, a wedding dress store would be wonderful; bridal parties could come to shop for dresses and spend time at the spa she’d previously added to her list. But if a guest damaged their outfit, or forgot a tie...
And if people were coming for weekends together, they might like a T-shirt or hoodie with the town’s name on it.
In a rare moment of doubt, she wondered if this was going to work.
The place looked like a postcard. Its days of prosperity had left a town of beautiful brick and wooden homes, but many needed attention. Abigail insisted that was being taken care of. And the less attractive homes, the poorer ones, were literally on the other side of the train tracks that used to lead to the old mill.
They needed to include this part of town in the plans somehow.
The churches and the town green were all perfect for their plan. Tomorrow they were supposed to check out the mill and see what needed to be done there to make it the event venue they needed.
There were still things the town required to make this a success, and a year wasn’t enough time to get them all done. She had plans for beyond the year. A spa, definitely. And more restaurants. But also, for the wedding part, the support industries like a bakery, a florist, catering, decorating...and for other visitors, activities, things for people to do. Winter was coming, and for that they’d want hikes, cross-country ski trails and other outdoor events. Horses for riding and sleigh rides? Maybe a tour of antiques stores in the area. Were there maple syrup farms around? That would be great in the spring. It was probably too cold for wineries...
She reined in her imagination. This was beyond her brief, so that would be up to other people to realize. Part of the beauty of her idea about making Carter’s Crossing a destination for all things romance related was that romantic weekends didn’t require the dresses and catering that a wedding did. They didn’t need to have the mill finished and ready to go. But it would require more than leaves turning color and a pretty stream.
It would require a lot of community support, and that brought her mind back to Nelson. She’d found him setting up a seat in her head more often than she wanted him to this evening.
Yes, he was attractive. That sweater he’d worn to dinner had been even more flattering than the scrubs had been. He was obviously fit, and the color made his eyes look very blue...but she didn’t need to dwell on that. More important, he was not a fan of what she was doing.
Or of hers.
She couldn’t help wondering why. His grandmother said it was time to get over it, so something had happened. His wife died? Something went terribly wrong at a wedding? His wedding? His wife died at their own wedding?
She shook her head. Nelson was not her problem, and they should have no issue keeping out of each other’s way. She was planning for romance and setting up the support network for romantic events. Overgrown pets like Tiny shouldn’t play a part, and she couldn’t imagine anything that would take her to the animal clinic.
NELSON WAS ON edge as he made his way into the clinic on Monday morning, running late. He wasn’t happy about the plans his grandmother had for Carter’s Crossing, he wasn’t happy about the woman who was here to help with them and he wasn’t happy about the talk he’d had with his grandmother last night.
If any out-of-state cars pulled into his parking lot today, he wouldn’t offer assistance unless asked, and even then, the only help he’d give them would be to direct them right out of town.
Okay, that was overkill, but he was unsettled, and hadn’t slept well, old dreams popping up out of the depths of his subconscious to poke at him with reminders of just how badly he’d behaved. He didn’t need that, he knew, and strived every day to be a different guy.
He wasn’t looking forward to the talk he’d be hearing at work today, either. Gossip flew around a small town. Now that Ms. Van Delton had arrived, he expected the news about Romance Central would be everywhere by noon.
His assistant and receptionist were already at the clinic: Judy would check on any animals they were keeping on-site, and Kailey would prepare their schedules for the day. They were chatting when he came in from the back but stopped as soon as they heard him.
The news had traveled even more quickly than he expected. He didn’t want to hear it.
“Morning, Judy, Kailey. Anything I need to know?”
He hoped they knew he meant related to work only.
“The Fletchers were hoping you could come out and see one of their pigs sometime today.” Kailey said. Kailey was ten years older than he was and tended to believe she needed to keep him in line. She could keep their clients in line, as well, so he endured the fact that sometimes she thought she was in charge. “You don’t have anything booked after two, so I told them you probably could.”
Nelson nodded. The Fletchers had a small farm and orchard. It wasn’t far from his own property out there, so he could swing by his place when he was done.
“Did you two have a nice weekend?” Nelson didn’t want them asking about his grandmother’s plans, so he steered the conversation in a different direction. He checked the list of appointments he had till two, mentally preparing what he’d need.
“Sure,” Kailey said. “You had Tiny yesterday?”
He’d left his notes on the desk for Kailey. “Habanero sauce this time. I didn’t ask why she had it.”
Kailey rolled her eyes. “Mavis has been watching the Food Network again.”
Judy was quiet. With her slight build and fair coloring, she could vanish into the back of the clinic without anyone noticing. She was more than competent in her work, and she didn’t usually talk a lot, but she was so quiet that he wondered if he’d offended or scared her somehow.
After his interaction with Ms. Van Delton, he began to wonder if he was coming across as overbearing without realizing it. Again.
“Didn’t I hear you were going out with Harvey this weekend?” He was trying to be one of the gang, just chatting around the watercooler. The metaphoric watercooler.
The two women exchanged glances.
Nelson felt like he’d stepped in it somehow.
“What? What did I say? Did you break up?”
Kailey shook her head. “No.” She winked at Judy. “I’d say they were the opposite of breaking up.”
Nelson looked at Judy. “Should I ask?”
Judy flushed. “We—I—I mean, we didn’t want to make a big deal of it.”
Nelson was puzzled. “A big deal about what?”
Judy looked at the floor with a smile crossing her face. “He asked me to move in with him.”
Nelson still didn’t see the problem. “That’s good, right?”
Judy nodded.
“And you don’t want to make a big deal out of it because...?” He was out of his depth here.
Judy was still looking at the ground, grinding the toe of her shoe into the floor.
Kailey sighed. “She doesn’t want to rub it in.”
Nelson looked over at Kailey. “Rub what in? Where?”
Kailey rolled her eyes. “They’re getting serious. Like, maybe soon walking-down-the-aisle serious.”
Nelson rolled his hand, hoping Kailey would soon get to the point, since Judy must have run out of words.
“Nelson, everyone knows what happened to you. We don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
Nelson stepped back. Wow, way to suddenly make him uncomfortable.
“I wasn’t, not till you said that.”
He paused and braced his hands on his hips.
“Judy, I’m very happy for you. And if Harvey pops the question, I’ll be happier. And I hope you have a lovely wedding and live happily-ever-after. If you want to.”
Kailey opened her mouth and he held up his hand to stop her.
“I’m not some fragile, broken person here. Yeah, I know my wedding didn’t happen. It doesn’t mean I want everyone else to be miserable, or that I’m opposed to people dating and being happy together, and I don’t need my staff avoiding ‘sensitive’ topics when I’m around to support my fragile ego. Okay?”
Judy nodded, and headed back to prepare for their first appointments. Kailey, of course, couldn’t let it go.
“If you don’t want us thinking you’re still heartbroken, maybe you should start dating again. Or, I don’t know, stop avoiding anything related to weddings.”
Nelson threw up his hands. “I missed one wedding because my horse had colic!” He looked at her expression. “Seriously, you think I faked it? Unbelievable.”
He stomped back to help Judy. He hadn’t realized missing one wedding—one!—when his horse was sick had started rumors that he was now a bitter misanthrope.
Sometimes he hated small towns.
“WOW,” MARIAH SAID.
Abigail had brought her to the old mill. The place had been shut down for a couple of years, and the outside of the building was industrial, but the setting...incredible. Harking back to the original structure, the building sat beside the river that flowed through the town. The trees surrounding the mill and growing on the hillside behind it wore garlands of yellow, orange and vivid red, the notes of evergreens adding lowlights in contrast.
The natural surroundings were at their peak, helping to sell the mill as a romantic venue. Unfortunately, the mill itself was lacking that natural beauty.
Any of it.
Still, Mariah could look past the gray metal siding. It was a big building, and the parking lot, though untended, also had plenty of room. What could happen from there depended on how much Abigail was willing to invest.
“The location is perfect.” Mariah paused.
Abigail nodded. “I couldn’t have picked a better time to bring you here, but I know the building is not anywhere close to what it needs to be. Let’s look inside. I had the place assessed, and structurally, it’s still sound. But it will need a complete refit to make it what we need.”
Mariah followed her to a door. It squeaked, but less in a “you’re about to die” creepy way and more in the annoying, needing grease way. Mariah hoped the place hadn’t been left to deteriorate.
It hadn’t.
Dust motes were dancing in the sunlight coming through the windows, high up. Along the far end, metal stairs led to a second level. Where they stood, the ceiling soared above them, heavy wooden beams at the near end, morphing into steel beams as the space had expanded over its lifetime.
Space. Lots of empty space.
Mariah circled around. She could picture rows of chairs with an aisle to a chuppah, or an arch, where couples could make their vows. Or remake them. Over there they could have a place for the reception with a big dance area, and a kitchen back under the second floor. Upstairs, offices or rooms for the wedding parties to prepare.
Dances, anniversaries, parties—this space could handle them all. She crossed to one of the few windows on the first-floor level and saw the river outside. If they had sliding doors to open here when the weather was warmer...maybe they could clear some space behind the building for an outdoor patio, as well.
She turned to Abigail.
“No machinery?”
Abigail shook her head. “We had everything that could be salvaged sold off. It was added to the pension fund.”
Mariah looked around again. She wasn’t an engineer, or an architect, but she could imagine that refitting this space would be expensive. At least, to make it fully functional and anything close to what Mariah was imagining.
“The place has enormous potential.” Mariah said, carefully.
“And needs enormous work.” Abigail sighed. “I’m inquiring about an architect to come and prepare plans, but I wanted your input into what we need here. What do you imagine this place like?”
Mariah’s eyes swept the space again.
“You’ll need an industrial kitchen—assuming this would be the place to host receptions, parties, dances, et cetera. I don’t imagine there’s any place with that capability in town now?”
Abigail shook her head. “We only have a diner, one ‘nicer’ restaurant and the pizza and sub parlor. None of those are designed for catering large events. Anyone local has to travel to Oak Hill, and it’s not that impressive once you do.”
Mariah considered.
“You need the space to be flexible—for services, meals, all with different numbers of guests. I wouldn’t dream of guiding your architect, but I had thought it might be nice if, say, the kitchen was back there, where there’s a second floor, and over it could be offices, rooms for the wedding party to get ready on-site, and then have the events in this space where we could possibly keep these high ceilings.”
Abigail nodded. “That makes sense to me. I hadn’t thought of all that.”
“And, if we’re dreaming big, imagine sliding doors on the wall facing the river. The view would be incredible, and when the weather cooperated, we could open them up, bring all that in.”
Abigail smiled at her. “And we have to do something to the exterior. Would we want outdoor space, for more than parking anyway? Maybe around back?”
Mariah cocked her head. “Are you reading my mind?”
“I hope not. That would be terribly uncomfortable, I’m sure.”
Biting the bullet before her imagination got away from her, Mariah decided to be frank.
“It’s going to be expensive. I don’t know how much you’re willing to invest.”
Abigail examined the space with a narrowed gaze. “I’ll have to see what the architect comes up with. My pockets are undoubtedly shallower than your grandfather’s, but I’m willing to do a lot.”
Mariah looked around, looking at more of the details. She and Abigail had walked around the interior, but they hadn’t left footprints. She could see dust motes in the air, but they weren’t breathing in dust and musty smells.
“You’ve been maintaining this place, haven’t you?”
Abigail nodded. “Yes, I have. It was the place that built Carter’s Crossing. I hope it can still do that, with a bit of work.”
Mariah wondered, for the first time seriously, just how much money Abigail Carter did have. Mariah’s grandfather was paying her own salary for this year, while she worked to makeover Carter’s Crossing. Abigail was providing room and board, so that Mariah could spend all her time working on this plan. She’d assumed they wanted to do this on a shoestring.
Mariah worked with large and small wedding budgets, so she hadn’t been concerned with the idea of going more cheap and cheerful than all out.
But she could only imagine the cost for the renovations on this building. Abigail’s home, and the maintenance it would require, wasn’t cheap, either.
She also wondered, not for the first time, why her grandfather was doing this. He’d sold Mariah on the idea as a challenge, an apprenticeship. But what was her grandfather getting out of this? Why was he helping an old friend, one who called him Gerry?
Abigail was still a beautiful woman. Perhaps she and her grandfather—
Mariah put a brake on those thoughts. None of that had to do with her job. And she was sure her grandfather wouldn’t want her speculating on his past.
Abigail turned to Mariah. “Can you write up a list of everything you think we’d need for me to give to the architect? What things we must have, what we’d like to have and what we might even dream of, if we were to go a little crazy? We can give that to him, have him come and look around and see what we can do.”
Mariah nodded. “That’s not a problem. I’ve done weddings in a lot of different spaces, and I have my own ideas of what works best. And what doesn’t. Coming up with a list like that will be easy.”
Abigail sighed. “It’s going to take a while, though, isn’t it? Now that I’ve decided on this, I’m anxious to get going.”
“As it happens,” Mariah teased her, “I have some ideas about that, as well.”
NELSON PULLED THE van into the drive of the old farm. His old farm now. The house was boarded up, but the barn was still functional. In the paddock outside, he counted the five horses.
He parked the van by the barn and made his way into the building. He heard the hoofbeats of the animals coming in the open side door.
One brown head was already bobbing at him as he pulled out a bale of hay, setting it down in the aisle.
He rubbed the horse’s forehead, and the horse butted his head against him.
“Yeah, yeah. Hay is coming. You guys behaving?”
Most of them were in the barn now. Nelson ran his gaze over them, checking that they were looking alert, moving smoothly, their hair lying flat and their eyes bright.
He pulled a pocketknife out and slit open the hay bale. Two more heads pushed over the top rail of the big pen.
When he’d decided to use this place for rescued horses, he’d wanted a space that was low maintenance, but provided the animals with shelter, as well as the freedom to enjoy their life without additional restrictions.
Half the barn had been made into a large pen, or box stall, with an open doorway to the paddock. There was a water trough, self-filling, and he augmented the grass with hay and grain as needed.
The rest of the barn included a tack room, feed room and smaller stalls in case the horses needed to be segregated. Nothing fancy, but a safe place for horses that needed it.
Nelson greeted each eager horse, and then tossed hay into the manger. He held one flake in his hands, and finally, the oldest and slowest member of his herd came forward, nudging Nelson with his gray muzzle. Nelson gripped his halter and carefully examined the yellowed teeth, making sure he was still able to eat.
“You’re holding on there, Sparky. You make sure these other guys behave.”
The final member of the herd hesitated in the doorway. Nelson kept his movements slow, and his gaze away from the chestnut watching him with white-rimmed eyes.
“So, Sparky, how’s the new guy doing?”
Sparky took another bite of hay.
“Yeah, we’ll let him settle in a little longer. You tell him he’s safe here. Maybe next week I’ll be able to spend some time with him. Just don’t let him talk about weddings, okay?”
MARIAH ENTERED THE kitchen and found Nelson walking through with a basket of apples. She paused.
He flicked a glance her way. “Delivery for Grandmother.”
Mariah narrowed her eyes. That tone—yeah, that tone was for her. She was about to respond in kind, when she pulled in a breath.
She wanted to make this plan for Carter’s Crossing work. Not just for herself, though that was certainly a big reason. She wanted to do it for Abigail, who was so determined to keep the town alive. And for her grandfather, who had sent her here for his own reasons.
She didn’t need to antagonize anyone. Undoubtedly, she’d step on some toes somewhere in this process, but Nelson was Abigail’s grandson. He would carry influence in this community. Her plans might not directly affect a veterinary practice, but he was someone in this town. Being on good terms with him would be smart.
Plus, she had been a little...maybe not exactly rude, but a little short. Curt. Testy. And that hadn’t been on him. It was a conditioned response from the behavior of other men, but she should clear the air.
However, if he responded like a jerk, she would happily put him in the group with those others and feel free to be curt in the future.
“I’m afraid I wasn’t very...gracious when we first met.”
He’d taken the apples into a pantry. He turned and stared at her. Yeah, he hadn’t expected that.
“Tiny had got away from me, or he wouldn’t have been in your face like that. I understand that not everyone likes dogs. And Tiny is big.”
She rolled her eyes. Okay, he was heading straight into the holding pen where “those guys” resided in her estimation.
“I told you, I’m not afraid of dogs. I was startled. And I’ve had my ability to navigate questioned too often.”
He cocked his head. “Do strangers need to offer direction to you frequently?”
Oh, he was in that pen now, and he was going to be the leader of the misogynistic pack.
She glared at him. “Drop me in the middle of the Pacific with only a sextant and a watch and I could tell you where I was and navigate to the nearest safe landfall. However, it seems to be a concept many men can’t handle, that I can find my way around without possessing a Y chromosome.”
“Wouldn’t you need a boat?”
She eyed him suspiciously. He was leaning against the counter now, smirking.
“I can find my way on land, as well, without a boat.”
“But if I was dropping you in the middle of the Pacific with only a sextant, you might drown before you found your way to that safe landing.”
“Seriously? That’s what you’re taking out of this? I tell you I’m a proficient navigator, and you want to nitpick the semantics?”
“Well, I wasn’t going to out-navigate you but maybe I’ve got a better sense of humor.”
Oh, that had been a joke, had it?
“I have a great sense of humor.”
“Right.”
“I don’t appreciate jokes about my navigational skills. They tend to be a cover for latent misogyny.”
“Now you think I’m a misogynist?”
“I’m testing the hypothesis. So far all signs look good.”
He stared at the ceiling, jaw tense.
“I think I have a good appreciation of women and what they are capable of. I grew up with Abigail Carter, and there’s not much she can’t do.
“But the other day? I find a car in my parking lot, out of state, when the clinic is closed. The driver has a map open on her tablet in front of her. I would have offered help to anyone, with or without a gender. It’s how I was raised.”
Mariah opened her mouth, then closed it.
When you put it that way...
“I’m sorry.” She could see she’d surprised Nelson again. “I grew up on a boat.”
“In the middle of the Pacific?”
She ignored him.
“My mother grew up sailing. My dad didn’t. But if we came into a marina with my mother at the helm, every man within hailing distance would come to ‘assist,’ yelling directions and basically assuming she was incompetent. That did not happen when my dad was at the wheel, though he was the one who’d need help. And even though I spent my life on a boat and was a better navigator than either of my brothers, that bias was still there.
“It’s slowly getting better in the sailing community, but I admit, I’m a little testy about that. In this case, I wasn’t looking at the map to find out where to go—seriously, this is a small town. It’s not that difficult to navigate. I’d just got some ideas buzzing through my brain and I was trying to find the nearest railway stations and airfields. I was caught up in that and didn’t realize how it would look to someone else.”
He’d been teasing her, for a moment, and she’d felt that they could maybe be friends. He’d had reason to be upset by what she’d accused him of, and he’d let it slide. But now she could see his face close off as he pushed himself to stand.
“Fine. If you see Grandmother, tell her the Fletchers sent the apples.”
Right. He wasn’t a fan of this wedding/romance idea.
“Why are you opposed to your grandmother’s plan?” Would anything change his attitude on that?
“It doesn’t matter.” His voice was flat.
Sure it didn’t.
“Are you going to fight it?” Mariah wasn’t sure what he could do, but if he was opposed, she needed to find out. Find out and defend against it.
He paused at the kitchen door. “My grandmother knows how I feel. I would never do anything to hurt her. I’m not going to get involved in this one way or the other. I’m never going to be part of it, but I’m also not going to stand in the way.”
Mariah wished that reassured her. She was afraid that his attitude would affect other people in town. And without knowing why he felt this way, there was nothing she could do to offset that reaction.
“She’s investing in this, time and money,” Mariah said. “I’m going to make sure it works for her.”
He looked at her, something sad in his eyes.
“I’m sure you will.” He turned and left.
Mariah sagged against the counter. Well, she didn’t think he was going to hate her for her response to his offer of assistance in his parking lot. He was going to hate her because she was helping his grandmother make Carter’s Crossing a wedding and romance venue.
Somehow, not the improvement she’d been hoping for.