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“THANKS FOR THE CANDY, Miss Lindy. Happy Halloween!”
“You’re welcome, Matt. Don’t forget to have that Bach prelude memorized by next week.”
Lindy knew her parting reminder fell on deaf ears as her last piano student for the day sprinted down the pathway to the street, his purple vampire cape billowing behind him. She grinned and then returned to the studio. She set down the bowl of candy she’d been carrying and tidied up the room.
Halloween was definitely not an ideal day for piano lessons. Her students had been too wound up to focus, so she’d kept the lessons light. For fun, she’d taught the kids how to improvise on a ghostly musical theme and then jot down the notes on the whiteboard. Now she studied the notes and bars for a moment before wiping the board clean. One student had drawn a grinning pumpkin in the corner. She would leave it there until tomorrow.
Louie was digging a hole in Mr. Atkinson’s backyard when Lindy strolled by a few minutes later. He darted towards her, barking eagerly. He placed his giant paws on the top rail of the fence, stared at her beseechingly and woofed.
“Be patient, Louie,” she told him. “I need to go change first.”
With fall came shorter days, and she’d been taking the dog for his walk before dinner instead of afterwards. She’d abandoned their evening visits to the regional park for now. Instead, she walked four blocks to the closest city park and let Louie run and play with the other neighborhood dogs before returning home.
The phone was ringing as she stepped into the kitchen. She hurried across the room to answer it.
“Lindy. This is Jo Wakefield.” The woman sounded rushed. “I need to ask a favor of you, dear.”
“We’re in a major pickle,” Bert added, her voice solemn.
“Bert, are you on the upstairs extension? I told you I’d take care of this myself.”
“I just picked up the phone,” her sister said innocently. “I didn’t realize you were calling Lindy.”
“That’s a fib, and you know it.”
“Jo,” Lindy interrupted before the sisters’ tiff escalated into a full-scale battle of wills. “Tell me what favor you need. I’m taking Louie for a walk.”
“Louie,” Jo said contemplatively. “That’s Hank Atkinson’s dog, isn’t it?”
“He’s such a doll,” Bert said. “So well-mannered and interesting.”
Lindy wasn’t sure if Bert was referring to the dog or its owner.
Jo shushed her sister before saying importantly, “Lindy, we have a problem with Sam.”
A jolt of alarm shot through Lindy. “What’s wrong? Is he hurt? Where is he?”
“Oh, he’s not hurt. I’m talking about this Halloween mess.”
“You know how crazy our street gets on Halloween,” Bert chimed in. “Hordes of screaming children overrunning the neighborhood. People drive their kids here from all over town thinking they’ll get better candy because the houses here are so fancy.” Bert’s long-suffering sigh echoed over the phone. “I didn’t sleep a wink last year because of all the racket.”
“So, what’s the problem with Sam?” Lindy asked, striving for patience.
“We’re spending the night at Zelda’s,” Jo explained. “Cherry Hill Bed and Breakfast has been booked solid since she opened two weeks ago, but she has rooms available for us tonight. We’re locking the front gate and escaping.”
“I’m packing as we speak,” Bert said. “Should I bring my hot water bottle? What do you think, Lindy?”
“Well, I—”
“Bert! We still haven’t told her about Sam. Now listen, Lindy, here’s the deal. We want to leave right now before the trick-or-treaters start ringing the bell. But our nephew won’t be able to pick up Sam until six-thirty. Would you mind bringing the boy to your house? We’ll leave a note for Devin.”
Lindy hesitated for only a moment. “Sure. I can do that. You’ll ask Devin to pick him up here?”
“Of course. Oh, thank you, Lindy,” Jo said effusively. “You’ve saved the day.”
“I’ll be over in a few minutes,” Lindy said.
“Jo, do you think I should bring my wool nightie or the cot—”
Lindy ended the call and hurried to her bedroom to change into jeans and a long-sleeved burgundy sweater. As she slipped into her walking shoes, she thought about seeing Devin face-to-face again. She hadn’t seen him since the picnic, although he’d included a note with the latest payment for Sam’s lessons. Just a few words written with a bold hand thanking her for the lessons and complimenting her on Sam’s progress. Brief and to the point as the note had been, the gesture had touched her. She’d tucked the note into her jewelry box and had peeked at it now and then over the last week or two.
She could offer him and Sam a quick bite to eat before they left. She took a mental inventory of the contents of her refrigerator and pantry. Then she shook her head. He’d want to take Sam trick-or-treating; there wouldn’t be time.
Louie barked impatiently at her as she came out the side entrance. She snapped on his leash and let him out of the yard. “Come on, Louie-boy. Let’s go get Sam.”
It was just past five o’clock, and the sun was setting, low clouds absorbing the last vestiges of light. A few children had gathered on the front porch of a neighboring house, lighting candles and placing them inside the carved jack-o’-lanterns decorating the front steps. Reddish-gold and yellow-orange leaves crackled beneath Lindy’s shoes as she walked down the street. She zipped up her windbreaker to the collar and quickened her pace to ward off the evening chill.
Fall had arrived. The warm days of Indian summer were over. Smoke curled up from the chimneys of several houses, a testament to the change of season. Maybe she’d get the fire going in her own house when she and Sam returned. Perhaps Devin would come back for coffee after he took Sam trick-or-treating. They could all sit in front of the fire, warm and cozy. Almost like a family.
Stop, she chided herself. Just. Stop. He has a girlfriend. He’s moving to Montana.
The Wakefield mansion was two blocks away. Fifteen minutes after the sisters had phoned, Lindy banged the large iron knocker on the front door. She waited, Louie sitting beside her, wagging his tail with anticipation.
Sam opened the door. He grinned up at her, one big blue eye shining with excitement, the other hidden behind a black leather patch. “Hi, Lindy! Guess who I am?”
Lindy faked a befuddled expression. “Um, let me think, uh, Tinkerbell?”
He cast her a scornful glance. “No way. That’s a girl’s costume. I’m a pirate!” He brandished the rubber hook affixed to one hand and waved a cardboard sword in the other. “It was Uncle Devin’s idea. He helped me make the sword. Isn’t it cool?”
“I think it’s great,” she said, Louie sounding a woof of agreement. “Very realistic. You scared me.”
She peered behind the boy to see the Wakefield sisters making their way down the curved staircase. They carried matching overnight bags and had dressed as though they were embarking on a European cruise.
“Oh, good,” Bert said with exaggerated relief. “You’re just in time. I was looking out my bedroom window and saw some hooligans heading this way.”
Jo reached Lindy first and gave her a swift hug. “I left a note under the doormat for Devin. He usually leaves work at six-fifteen. You shouldn’t have to watch Sam for too long.”
“I don’t mind,” Lindy reassured the two women. She tossed Sam a conspiratorial wink. “Sam’s excellent company.”
“Will you take me trick-or-treating?” the boy asked, looking worried.
“You must wait until Devin can take you, dear,” Jo said. She straightened the boy’s pirate hat. “We’ll see you tomorrow after school. Remember what we told you about eating too much candy.”
“And remember to save all the Mounds bars for me,” Bert said.
Everyone converged on the front step as Jo locked the door. Louie sniffed the luggage. Lindy handed Sam the leash. “Want to walk Louie?”
“Sure!” Sam laughed as Louie tugged him towards the sidewalk.
“Be a good boy,” Jo called after him. She shot Lindy a concerned look. “You’re sure you don’t mind?”
“Not at all. Have a wonderful time at Zelda’s.” She gave them both a nod before skipping down the steps to catch up with Sam. She laughed under her breath as she heard the sisters bickering over who would drive the car.
More jack-o’-lanterns grinned at them from darkened doorways. A group of kids paraded by in an amusing assortment of costumes. One kid shouted a greeting to Sam, who waved back.
“A friend of yours?” Lindy asked in a casual tone.
“That’s Tom. He’s in my class. We practice our karate chops together.”
Lindy smothered a laugh, happy to see Sam making friends and behaving just like any other boy his age. It seemed Devin’s worries about the boy becoming too introverted weren’t to be realized.
They reached her house. Sam helped her return Louie to his yard, then they went into the kitchen. “Do you want a glass of milk?” she offered.
“Okay,” Sam said. He wandered around the room, pausing at the wall behind the breakfast nook where she’d hung various framed photos. “Is this your mom and dad?” he asked, pointing to one picture.
She glanced over her shoulder. “Yes. The year I was born.”
“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“I have an older brother. His name is Joe.” She walked over and pointed out a photo of her brother.
“I don’t have any brothers or sisters,” Sam told her solemnly.
“I know.”
“My mom and dad said I was enough. But I think they were joking. I heard my mom say she’d like for me to have a little sister.”
Lindy squeezed his shoulder. Sam looked up at her. His one uncovered eye was wide but dry. “Uncle Devin is my dad now. He adopted me.”
“I know. I think that’s wonderful.”
“I love Uncle Devin,” he said. His smile was wistful as he turned back to the photos. “But I wish sometimes I had a mom too.”
Lindy swallowed. “When your new dad gets married, you’ll have a new mom. But I know your real mother is watching over you and protecting you every second of the day.”
His little jaw protruded. “Janelle says my uncle will marry her. I don’t want her for my new mother. She doesn’t like dogs. And she doesn’t like to play with me. All she talks about is clothes and makeup and girl stuff. She’s so dumb.”
Before Lindy could find a reply, Sam spun around, his eyes imploring. “I want Uncle Devin to marry someone like you, Lindy. I think you’d be a neat mom.”
Lindy surrendered to her emotions and pulled him into a tight hug. “What a sweet thing to say, Sam,” she said, a slight wobble in her voice.
His little arms fervently reciprocated her hug. Lindy laughed a bit when his rubber hook tickled her ribs. She placed her hands on his shoulders and gently set him away from her. “Hey, guess what? I haven’t carved my pumpkin yet. If we work together, I bet we’d have it finished before your uncle gets here.”
“Okay,” Sam said. “But you can do the scooping part. I’ll carve.”
She grinned at the note of authority in his voice. He might not be Devin’s natural son, but he was definitely picking up some of Devin’s assertive traits.
By six-thirty, they’d finished carving the pumpkin and had set it on the front porch. Then Lindy encouraged the excited boy to eat a bowl of vegetable soup and drink more milk. By seven o’clock they’d handed out candy to several groups of kids, and Sam was growing more anxious by the minute to do his own trick-or-treating.
Lindy thumbed through the phone book and located the number to Wakefield Hardware. A recorded message informed her the store was closed for the day and would reopen at seven o’clock the following morning. After instructing Sam not to open the front door until she got back, she hurried to the studio where she kept the contact information for all of her students. She returned to the kitchen and punched in the number she had for Devin. When she heard his voice stating his name in a clipped tone, she sighed with relief, only to realize it was his voicemail.
“Devin? It’s Lindy. Did you see the note your aunts left under the doormat? Sam’s over at my place.” She lowered her voice. “He’s getting antsy to go trick-or-treating. We will leave in a few minutes. We’ll be walking around the neighborhood.”
She set the phone down and peeked around the kitchen doorway to see Sam staring out the music room window. His foot tapped an impatient beat on the hardwood floor.
“All right, kiddo,” she called to him. “Let’s go trick-or-treating. I left a message for your uncle. I bet he’ll catch up with us.”
***
“WOW! I GOT TWELVE PEANUT butter cups and ten suckers. Check out all the gum!”
Sam kneeled on a chair at her kitchen table, gloating over the pile of Halloween candy spread out on the table. Lindy sat across from him, munching on a chocolate bar while inwardly groaning at the unhealthful assortment of sugar on display.
“Remember to save the Mounds bars for your Auntie Bert,” she reminded the boy, her voice muffled by chocolate.
“Okay,” he agreed a little reluctantly. “There’re only two of those. Hey, cool! Look at the size of this jawbreaker!”
As he continued to sort through the sugar loot, Lindy peeked at the clock above the stove. Almost nine o’clock and still no sign of Devin. She and Sam had returned to the house about fifteen minutes ago. She’d tried Devin’s number again, only for the call to go directly to voicemail. She’d called Zelda’s, but there’d been no answer. The ladies had either gone to bed, or, more likely, had immersed themselves in a rambunctious game of Scrabble; they didn’t appreciate any interruptions during their tournaments.
“Sam,” she asked, keeping the worry out of her voice. “Do you know where your dad could be?”
The boy shrugged, his stash of candy more important than anything else at the moment. “I don’t know.”
She sighed. “I think I’d better take you home.” She had Devin’s address; he lived in an apartment at a new complex on the east side of town. “Let’s put your candy back—”
The doorbell rang.
Lindy raced to the door, hoping it wasn’t another trick-or-treater. She opened the door to a glowering Devin.
She glowered back. “Where have you been?” she hissed, keeping her voice down.
He planted his hands on his hips and snarled, “Where have I been? I’ve been hunting all over this town for my son. Is he here?”
“Yes. Didn’t—”
He brushed past her before she could ask him if he’d gotten her messages. He stalked toward the kitchen. His back visibly relaxed when he saw Sam sitting at the table.
“Hi, Dad! Where’ve you been? Me and Lindy just got back from trick-or-treating. Check out all this stuff!”
“Wow,” Devin said, his calm voice contradicting the anger Lindy sensed boiling inside of him. “You hauled in some loot there, captain. Put it all in the bag now. We’re going home. Tomorrow’s a school day.”
While the boy complied, Devin sent Lindy a sullen look. With a jerk of his head, he messaged she follow him back to the entryway. “Why didn’t you call me to tell me you had him?” he asked in a harsh undertone once they were far enough away from Sam.
She stared at him, dumbstruck. “Didn’t you see the note your aunts left?”
“What note?”
“They put it under the doormat.”
He raised his eyes to the ceiling. “Of all the stupid... How was I supposed to know? And those two silly women don’t bother leaving their cell phones turned on.” He shook his head, his voice slightly calmer as he gave her an interrogating look. “Obviously, I didn’t see the note. But why didn’t you call me? I had no idea where Sam was. I’ve spent the last two hours searching all the logical places for him and getting more frantic every minute. About ten minutes ago, I got a call back from the mother of his friend, Tom, who said he’d seen him with you.”
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I called your cell twice.”
“You did?” Perplexed, he snatched the phone from his pocket and thumbed the screen. He scanned through his voicemail list. “I see nothing here.” Then he muttered an oath. He looked at her, his face contrite. “I got a new phone with a local number two weeks ago. I was getting too many calls from former clients on my Florida number, and I’ve been leaving that phone at the apartment. I didn’t have your name in my contact list yet when I transferred things over.” He shoved the phone back in his pocket and reached out to touch her arm. “I’m sorry, Lindy. I shouldn’t have torn into you like that.”
It hurt part of her that he hadn’t entered her contact information on his phone yet. It was that part that colored her voice with false brightness. “It’s okay. You were worried about Sam. That’s understandable.”
Sam rounded the corner from the kitchen, his face apprehensive. “Are you mad at Lindy, Dad?”
Devin shook his head as he smiled at the boy. “No, Sam. Everything’s okay. Did you say thank you to Lindy for taking you trick-or-treating?”
Sam nodded. “She gave me dinner too. And we carved a pumpkin.”
Both adults stared at the boy. Sam’s appearance was a welcome distraction from the tension still lingering in the air. His costume hadn’t survived the evening. The eye patch had disappeared some time ago. The hook and sword had wound up in the trick-or-treat bag when Sam realized he couldn’t manage all three items at once. There were lollipop and chocolate stains on his white ruffled shirt. His chin was sticky from the candy he’d consumed since returning to Lindy’s house.
“That sure is a lot of candy,” Devin said with amusement, his eyes on the heavy bag Sam had dragged behind him. “How many houses did you hit up?”
Lindy couldn’t help but grin. “We only did two blocks. But stopped at Mr. Atkinson’s last. He was ready to turn off the porch light and go to bed. He dumped the rest of his candy in Sam’s bag.”
“Nice.”
“I don’t envy you for the next few days,” she said, peeking up at him. “This kid will be climbing the walls.”
“Nah,” Devin said in a low voice, a relaxed grin creasing his face as he turned to her. “That bag will lighten up a lot after he goes to bed tonight. I’ll dole the candy out carefully until he forgets about it. Then into the trash it goes.”
“Smart dad,” she said with teasing smile.
Sam yawned loudly. “Can we go home now?”
After hugging the boy goodnight and wishing a slightly cooler goodnight to Devin, Lindy stood on the doorstep watching them walk down the front path.
Devin paused and turned around to gaze at her. “I’ll talk to you soon,” he said.
It sounded like a promise.
***
A PROMISE KEPT THE very next day, Friday, when Devin called her at lunchtime.
“Come to dinner with me tomorrow night,” he said after her brisk greeting.
“Dinner? Why?”
“Does there have to be a reason?” He sounded amused.
She was glad he couldn’t see her face, which portrayed equal parts delight and confusion. “I mean, um, is it at your aunts’ house? Is there a party?”
“No, Lindy. I want to take you to dinner. Just you and me. Sam is spending the night at a friend’s house. We won’t have to rush through our meal.”
“Well...”
His tone sounded cooler as he asked, “Do you have a date already?”
“No. But what about Janelle?”
“What about her?”
“She won’t mind?”
“Why should she?” Now he sounded oddly pleased. “I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty. Wear something pretty.” He hung up.
“Well!” Lindy said to herself, a little offended by the abrupt ending to the call. He hadn’t bothered to ask her if she wanted to go to dinner with him, the conceited man. But her eagerness to see him again and spend time with him, just the two of them, overcame her feminine pride.
When the doorbell rang promptly at seven-thirty the following evening, she was ready for him. She opened the door with a calm smile. Her ego soared at the glint of approval in his eyes as he scanned her from head to toe.
After spending an hour or two that morning combing through her closet and trying on various outfits, she’d decided on a banded, black sheath dress with a lace bodice and sleeves. Her jewelry was simple, a single strand of pearls and matching drop earrings. Black sling-back pumps with a low heel completed the outfit. She’d tied the upper section of her hair in a French knot, leaving the rest of it to hang down her back in soft curls.
At the last minute, she worried she’d overdressed. Now, looking at the man standing on her doorstep, she was glad she’d followed his instruction to wear something pretty. Devin wore a charcoal-grey suit, white shirt, and a grey striped tie. He was clean-shaven, and she caught the faint scent of cedar and warm spice.
“You look very nice,” he said by way of greeting as he stepped into the house.
“So do you.”
“You’ll need a wrap or a coat. It’s a little chilly out.”
Caught off-guard by his somewhat brusque manner, she said haltingly, “Yes. I’ll go get it.”
His eyes say one thing, his voice says another, she thought to herself as she walked back to her bedroom to fetch her wrap. Then she felt guilty. He’d had to work today. Saturday’s were probably very busy at the hardware store. No doubt he’d rushed home to shower and change. He hadn’t found time to relax yet.
She smiled at him pleasantly as she returned to the entryway, her wrap over one arm. “Thanks for reminding me,” she said.
“Let me help you with it,” he offered, taking the wrap from her. “Turn around.”
She did, lifting her hair out of the way while he draped the silk and black wool embroidered wrap over her shoulders. The tips of his fingers whispered across her nape as he ran a hand over the soft material. “This is nice,” he said. “It’s an interesting design.”
“Thank you. My mother made it during her embroidery phase.”
He placed a hand on her lower back, guiding her to the door. His sideways glance held curiosity. “Excuse me?”
“She’s an artist,” Lindy said. “She’s never specialized in any one medium, though. It changes every year. When Joe and I were kids, it seemed like every week.”
“She sounds a little...capricious.”
“Oh, perfect word, Devin,” Lindy said with a laugh. “Much better than chaotic, erratic or impulsive.”
“She’s all that?”
She smiled wryly as she closed the door behind them, locked it, and dropped the key into her little black silk purse. “You have no idea.”
He kept his hand under her elbow, escorting her down the front path and through the gate. Unaccountably nervous, her smile trembled a little as he opened the car door for her and assisted her inside. She reminded herself to relax as she watched him stride around the front of the car. She couldn’t recall any of her other dates treating her so courteously. Devin was behaving like the perfect gentleman.
He settled into the seat beside her. “Seatbelt on?” he asked as he turned the key in the ignition.
“Always,” she said.
“So,” he said briskly as he pulled onto the street. “Tell me more about your mother. She sounds like a character.”
Stories about her mother occupied the brief journey to their destination. Devin seemed more than politely interested in how the Matthews family had come to live in King’s Valley, how her mother had shut herself away in her art studio for a year or two, how, at one time, her various pieces of art had seemed to fill the house to the rafters.
“Joe hated it,” Lindy confided. “There wasn’t a bare spot in that house other than in our own bedrooms. My mother told us to decorate our own rooms however we wanted. I went a little crazy with purple. Joe’s bedroom was stark white.”
“His idea of rebellion, I’m guessing,” Devin observed lightly. “Where’s your mother now?”
“Santa Fe. She’s lived there for five years now. I think she’s finally found a place that matches her style and personality. This year, she’s been taking a pottery class. I’ve been told to expect a bowl for Christmas.”
“Do you see her much since she moved?”
“Oh, we talk on the phone once or twice a month. She won’t come here. I go visit her for Thanksgiving every other year.”
“This year?”
“No. This is an off year. I usually spend the holiday with the McAllisters. Zelda always puts on a huge spread.” She glanced at him. In the dim interior of the car, his profile was darkly handsome. “How about you and Sam? Any plans for Thanksgiving?”
“We’ll spend it with my aunts,” he said. Then he nodded at something ahead of them. “Here we are.”
Lindy looked around as he pulled the car into a small parking lot. She hadn’t been paying attention to where they were going. She recognized the Victorian-era house located beside the wide river that bisected the west and east sides of King’s Valley. The building had been converted into a fine-dining restaurant a few years back, but it was too expensive for Lindy’s budget.
“Oh,” she said, not hiding her pleasure. “I’ve always wanted to come here.”
Devin switched off the engine. He slanted a pleased smile at her. “They’re usually booked two months in advance, but I got a table.”
Lindy felt almost giddy with delight as he helped her from the car and walked with her to the restaurant entrance, his hand solid and warm against her lower back.
The efficient hostess escorted them to a small, candlelit table set in front of a window overlooking the river. As she scanned the room unobtrusively, Lindy noted there were only ten tables, all set far enough apart from one another to allow the diners to converse in relative privacy.
“It’s a prix fixe menu, and it changes every night,” Devin explained once they were seated. “I previewed tonight’s menu online. I think you’ll enjoy all the options.”
“I’m sure I will,” Lindy murmured, admiring the clean, masculine lines of his face in the soft candlelight. He was, by far, the most attractive man present.
The server approached with their menus and guided them through the selections. She returned shortly with their amuse-bouche, dainty porcelain bowls of shelled pistachio nuts. The sommelier poured the wine pairing, a Brut Rose champagne.
Devin lifted his champagne flute to Lindy’s in a silent toast. She tapped his glass, secretly pleased his eyes never left her face as she took a sip of the sparkling drink. The liquid warmed her chest. She sensed the last traces of tension leave her body. “This is delicious,” she said.
“You sound like you don’t get to enjoy the finer things in life that often.”
“I’m a piano teacher,” she reminded him pertly.
“Haven’t any of your dates taken you to places like this?” The faintly mocking tone of his voice implied they were fools not to have done so.
“Well... Most of them never go beyond a coffee date. It’s been a couple months since I’ve gone out to dinner.” Since she’d met the man sitting across from her, in fact. It’d been weeks since she’d logged on to check for any activity on the online dating site she’d joined last year. There was one guy, Michael, who’d been more persistent than others, but she hadn’t spoken to him in a while.
“Any suitable prospects at the moment?” His demeanor was friendly, almost avuncular. Which likely influenced her decision to play coy with her answer.
“Possibly,” she replied with a mysterious smile.
He arched one eyebrow but said nothing to this revelation. Instead, he adroitly switched the conversation to something funny Sam had done that morning. They chatted about Sam, his school and his friends while they nibbled at the nuts and slowly sipped the champagne.
Eventually, their server approached with the first course. Lindy had selected the shrimp sautéed in lemon and white wine with Parmesan polenta. Devin had chosen the artichoke heart and sun-dried tomato flan with mixed greens and beets. Once the plates had been set before them, the sommelier stopped by to fill fresh glasses with Sauvignon Blanc and briefly offered details on that vintage.
The ambience was relaxed and unhurried. Devin remarked that the restaurant offered only one seating each night, and they didn’t need to rush. They took their time over their food, savoring each bite and expressing their mutual enjoyment. She gave him two of her shrimp to taste, and he forked a portion of his artichoke onto her plate.
“You’re a foodie,” she noted, enjoying the obvious pleasure lighting his face as he savored his food.
“Yes, I am. I did most of the food prep for the charter trips in the early days. Later, our price packages included professional chefs, but I had the final say on the menu options. I enjoyed being the official taste tester.”
She smiled at the mental image of him in a kitchen, cooking delicious things, and nibbling at this and that. “Have you gone to the farmer’s market since you came back to town? I don’t think there’s anywhere like California for the variety and freshness of produce.”
“I took Sam to the Wednesday night market two weeks ago. It’s tough to get away on Saturdays.”
“It’s open year-round, you know. I don’t think you’ll find that in Montana.”
He gave her a penetrating stare, but her expression was serene. “Probably not,” he agreed smoothly. “Winters can be long and brutal there.”
“The complete opposite of Florida, or even here. Have you spent time in Montana during the winter?”
“Not yet.”
“Perhaps you should,” she suggested mildly. “I mean, before you decide to live there full time.”
His eyelids lowered to half-mast as he scrutinized her innocent face across the table. “You’re right. I should,” he said eventually. Then he peered over her shoulder. “Ah, here’s the next course.”
They’d both chosen the winter salad with cranberries, apples, aged Gouda cheese, almonds and a lemon vinaigrette. The wine pairing was a Napa Chardonnay. Over this course, Devin moved the topic to her neighbor.
“Has he lived in King’s Valley for a long time?” he wondered.
“Almost sixty years. He first met your aunts when he was in his early twenties. He met your father too.” Perhaps it was the wine that gave her the confidence to go down a road she’d wanted to explore for several weeks now. “Apparently, your father ruled with an iron fist where your aunts were concerned.”
His expression turned impassive. “What do you mean?”
She wondered if she should venture so far as to tell him about Jo’s marriage, but swiftly tossed that idea aside; it was Jo’s story to tell. “Mr. Atkinson says your father believed all your aunts’ suitors were only after the family money.”
“He may have been right,” Devin said with a dismissive shrug.
“But that was cruel,” she said. “He denied them love and marriage. Happiness.”
Devin’s eyes narrowed on her wistful face. “Marriage doesn’t always equate with happiness, Lindy,” he said quietly. “My aunts seem content. Besides, don’t you think if they’d fallen in love, they would’ve defied my father?”
She thought about Jo and the secret marriage. “I guess.”
Devin’s voice had become distant when he shared, almost grudgingly. “My father never planned to marry. But my mother changed his mind.”
She leaned forward. “Mr. Atkinson says your mother asked your father to marry her. He was sixty-five, and she was forty. Is that true?”
“Your neighbor seems to know a lot about my family.”
“King’s Valley was a smaller town in those days.” She hesitated. “He must have loved her very much.”
“So much so that when she died shortly after I was born, he could barely tolerate being around anything that reminded him of her. Including me.” His voice was grim, but it didn’t invite sympathy. He was merely stating a cold, hard fact.
Lindy wanted to reach across the table and touch his hand. She took another sip of wine instead, wisely deciding it best not to offer any compassion where none was wanted. When he kept silent, she asked calmly, “Is that why you left home when you were eighteen?”
“I wish I could have left sooner,” he said with a cynical smile. “I escaped from a big, cold, stifling house to a life of sea and sun. Can you blame me for having no desire to return?”
“But your aunts love you. They must’ve helped raise you and take care of you?”
“They were in their forties when I was born. I’m sure they tried their best, but there was too much of an age gap.” His laugh was sardonic. “Besides, we’re talking about Bert and Jo here. Having any kind of lengthy, coherent conversation with them is difficult enough as an adult. Can you imagine what it was like for a kid?”
She couldn’t help but laugh in agreement, and the mood—which had been growing increasingly somber—lightened considerably. They exchanged relaxed smiles as the server replaced their empty salad plates with the third course. Lindy dug into her grilled Ono with tomatoes, garlic, olives and capers. Devin sliced into his sirloin steak. A half-bottle of pinot noir was left at their table for them to enjoy at their leisure.
Devin steered the conversation in a lighter direction as they ate, and Lindy willingly followed along. After a while, she realized she was telling him a great deal about herself, her childhood and schooling, her mother and her brother. But, aside from that brief glimpse into the relationship he’d had with his father, Devin had spoken little about himself. And there was so much she yearned to know.
Watching him across the table, the gleam of his hair in the warm candlelight, the flick of his wrist as he lifted his fork to his mouth, the strong, self-assured way he presented himself, the smile sometimes etching his firm lips as he listened to her talk, Lindy finally admitted to herself she’d fallen completely and wholeheartedly in love with him.