“VINCE MESSINA.” An old man with a gray ponytail and a purple tie-dyed T-shirt came to stand outside El Rosal. He stuffed a cell phone into the back pocket of his cargo shorts. “Welcome home.”
“I’m just visiting, Mayor Larry.” Vince slowed, stopping, hand extended, because his mother had instilled Vince with some manners, even if he didn’t want to talk to the guy.
While Vince had been walking, he’d been thinking about the rest of his life. Without commitment. Without love. Without Harley.
She’d told him to kiss her as if he couldn’t live without her and Vince had been struck with the sudden need to do just that.
Oh, he knew she was only kidding. But on some level, a passionate embrace seemed wrong, like cutting a corner on a marathon race or eyeballing a window opening instead of using a level.
They were falling back into the place they’d been pre-Waco, except this time they were talking about things that meant something. He didn’t want Harley to look at him as more than a friend. He couldn’t give her what she needed.
“Think twice about leaving town, son.” Mayor Larry was a two-handed shaker. He’d been the town leader for as long as Vince had known Harmony Valley had a mayor. Back in the day, he’d talked to Tony Messina several times about encouraging his three sons to be better citizens. And now he wanted Vince to stay?
The mayor’s statement almost sounded like an ultimatum issued by a sheriff in a B Western. Except the sheriff never wore purple tie-dye and usually told the bad hombres to get out of town, not hang around. Vince tested the mayor’s words for sincerity while simultaneously looking to see if the mayor was tipsy.
El Rosal had a bar, after all. And the mayor could probably get a Bloody Mary with his breakfast.
“Harmony Valley is thriving.” Mayor Larry pumped Vince’s hand, smiling at Harley. “It warms my heart to see so many of your friends and family returning, getting married, having babies. Speaking of families, introduce me to this charming fiancée of yours?”
Vince made the introductions.
And then Mayor Larry worked Harley’s hand with that same shake-and-cover, two-handed enthusiastic technique. “Young lady, I hear you’re an architect.”
Vince’s guard went up. He drew Harley free of the mayor’s clutches. “She’s an architect, all right.” Or she should be.
“Ah, here’s the town council. Just in time.” The mayor nodded toward a dated green Buick parking in one of the few open spaces nearby. “When I called they were just around the corner.”
“Sorry. We’re on our way to get Harley a cup of tea.” Vince tried to tow Harley toward Martin’s. In his experience, any time the town leaders wanted to meet with him, the news was bad.
“Just in time for what?” Harley was too polite, digging in her heels when she should have been taking Vince’s cue and finding a bunker to hide in.
“We wanted to set up a meeting with you, Madame Architect.”
“Oh, I…” Harley’s panicked gaze went to Vince. She tried to move on, but three elderly women were invading, cutting off their retreat.
Although Vince wanted Harley to return to her chosen field, he didn’t like the vulnerability on her face. He pulled her closer.
“I’m so glad we caught you.” Rose, the thin, elegant woman who’d been the object of Irwin’s affection earlier, approached them with graceful steps. She wore a long, full, blue skirt and a pink blouse with ribbons on the sleeves. Her severe white bun contradicted the subtle breeze-induced dance of her skirt and ribbons.
“Vince and Harley were heading to Martin’s for tea.” Mayor Larry looked pleased with himself, rocking back on his Birkenstocks. “We can talk there.”
“Talk about…architecture?” Harley gripped Vince’s hand as if he held her dangling from a ledge.
“Yes. That sounds lovely.” Rose introduced herself and the ladies exiting the car. “You know Mildred. That’s her with the walker. And that’s Agnes.”
“I don’t get a qualifier?” Agnes had hair as gray as Harley’s saw, but it was shorter than Gabe’s. She’d been slighted in the height department, too, but not in confidence. “My granddaughter would say I need a qualifier people would respect, like Great-Grandma Overlord.” Spoken like a woman who’d been slighted.
“You need to get over Christine mentioning you were too bossy with her nanny.” Mildred lifted her walker over the curb and followed it up with careful steps. “Is that Vince?”
“That’s me,” Vince said warily.
“Rose saw you with a motorcycle.” Mildred stared in Vince’s general direction through her thick lenses. “Are you going to take your fiancée for a ride later?”
“Actually…” Vince met Harley’s gaze. He should end this now and come clean about the pretend engagement with everyone. “She’s not—”
“Running,” Harley finished for him. “The bike. Gwen Two Point Oh.”
Vince leaned down to whisper, “It’s getting hot in here.”
“I like this topic better than architecture,” she whispered back.
“I could have used you on my racing team, Vince.” Mildred’s wandering gaze was only disconcerting if she faced Vince head-on. “You could fix anything, including my Volkswagen.”
“German engineering.” Vince couldn’t keep the reverence out of his voice. Fixing it was an art form.
“Yes, yes.” Mayor Larry positioned himself to lead them to Martin’s. “You can catch up all you want at the bakery.” He set off at a good clip.
Vince and Harley followed. The three town council ladies brought up the rear at Mildred’s slower pace.
“We could make a run for it.” Vince spoke only loud enough for Harley to hear. He didn’t like not knowing what the town council wanted from her. “They’d never catch us.”
The mayor disappeared inside the bakery. Now was the time to make a move.
“Much as I want to go, it’s good Messina public relations to listen.” Harley smiled at Vince for the first time since he’d refused to kiss her, but it was as polite as her plan. “Besides, I think Mildred has a crush on you. You shouldn’t disappoint her.”
Mildred wasn’t who Vince wanted to avoid letting down. It was Harley.
Resolved to stay on his toes with the town council, Vince held the bakery door open for them.
“Welcome. Come in and keep me company.” A blond woman waved from behind the counter. The bakery was nearly empty and her apron free of stains. “It’s a light crowd today because there’s a breakfast and lecture at the winery.”
Harley ordered tea and a black coffee for Vince.
“I met Harley at the shower. I’m Tracy, a bridesmaid.” The blonde waved. “You might remember me, Vince. I’m Will’s kid sister. He’s Joe’s best man,” she said for Harley’s benefit. “Am I bringing the rest of you the usual?” she asked the town council.
There was a hearty chorus of the affirmative.
“Two coffees black, two lattes, two hot green teas and three scones.” Tracy made tea for Harley and Agnes first, and then rushed to grind beans and prepare a large, fresh pot of coffee.
The mayor directed Vince to push two rectangular tables together and once they’d all taken their seats, he called the meeting to order by slapping his palm on the table. “Our town needs an architect.”
“Why?” Harley cradled a mug of tea between her hands. “I see plenty of empty storefronts.”
“All small.” Agnes unfolded a sheet of paper with a map of the downtown area drafted in pencil. She smoothed it on top of the table. “And some of the interiors are crumbling.”
“We need to knock down walls.” Mayor Larry flicked his age-spotted hand over Agnes’s map.
“Get rid of rodents,” Rose added with a dramatic shiver.
Mildred adjusted her thick glasses on her nose and squinted at the drawing. “I’d appreciate more businesses being handicap accessible.”
Despite worrying about the stress the conversation was giving Harley, Vince was intrigued.
“That doesn’t sound as if you need an architect,” Harley said gently, if with a note of relief. She had the confidence of Agnes, the regal posture of Rose and the warmth of Mildred. “You can do all that with a structural engineer and a good contractor.”
“It’s much more than that.” Mayor Larry’s wrinkles cascaded from his smile. “I’m considering opening a retail outlet for my business. I need something unique that will speak to people, appeal to them and their wallets.”
Vince couldn’t remember what business the mayor was in, but this was just the kind of boost in confidence Harley needed to get back in the game.
“Something unique…” Harley stared into her green tea like a fake fortune teller in a traveling circus.
“And I want to build a very small theater,” Rose said. “For plays and musical performances. A small, yet grand stage. Rich acoustics. Beautiful balconies.”
“Balconies…” Harley sat back, leaning as far away from Rose as she could without falling out of her chair. Balconies were her Achilles’ heel.
The town council was waiting for Harley to say something, but it was clear she’d been knocked into a personal zone that didn’t include the rest of them. Her mouth gaped and her gaze was distant.
Vince came to her rescue. “There doesn’t seem to be a large enough population in Harmony Valley for a theater or a large retail store.” He gestured to the sidewalk, which was empty.
Tracy delivered their drinks and several scones, more than they’d ordered. She set a plate in front of Vince, along with a white paper napkin. “You look like you could use some carbs.”
Three Italian wedding cookies sat on his plate, dusted in powdered sugar. His mother used to make them every Christmas. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had some.
Mayor Larry checked his watch as if Vince hadn’t spoken. In fact, they could have cared less about Vince. And not just because he was a Messina, but because he was unnecessary to this project.
I’m unnecessary.
His ears buzzed, drowning out everything else.
He’d made himself superfluous to his brothers through physical and emotional distance. Harley wouldn’t need him to fix her saw if she embraced architecture again. And his mother? She’d never needed him once she’d left California.
That was what he’d wanted, wasn’t it? To be superfluous to those he loved so their lives wouldn’t be hamstrung if Vince developed schizophrenia.
Harley swiped one of his wedding cookies, sniffed it and then returned it to his plate, wiping the residual powdered sugar on his napkin.
He could love Harley, Vince realized. She wasn’t hard to look at. She wasn’t shallow. She wasn’t high maintenance. That left a lot in between to love.
If love was what he was looking for.
Which he wasn’t.
A pink shuttle bus stopped outside the bakery. The lettering across the side said Harmony Valley Sightseeing. The double doors opened and about two dozen people spilled out onto the sidewalk. They were smiling and laughing, and carried oblong cardboard wine boxes imprinted with a black horse on a weathervane. About half of the bus riders entered Martin’s. The other half headed for their cars or up the walk, presumably to El Rosal.
“Perfect timing,” Mayor Larry said. “Here come some tourists who went to the winery breakfast.”
The driver waved to his passengers. It was Rex, the heavyset older owner of the golf cart last night. He closed the doors and drove off.
“Tourists go to the winery. They eat. They drink. They take the bus ride to the top of Parish Hill to enjoy the view. And then they come down and spend a little more at Martin’s, El Rosal or the boutique across the road.”
Agnes finished the last of her tea. “We need more things for people to do in town.”
“Yes, to capture more of their dollars.” Rose daintily dabbed her lips with a napkin.
“And their hearts.” Scone crumbs ringed Mildred’s latte like a dusting of snow. “We don’t want anyone to regret coming to Harmony Valley.”
Vince took in Harley’s delicate profile. He had to be careful or she’d regret what wonderful times they’d had.
“Finish your tea,” the mayor said to Harley. “We want to show you around Main Street.”
* * *
HARLEY HAD SEEN Main Street.
It had the bones of the century-old Gold Rush architecture: narrow brick buildings, tall, interior ceilings, ironwork porch railings. But many buildings had also been modernized with swinging glass doors, plate-glass windows and stucco fronts. Everything was straight-lined, basic construction, put in place quickly to serve the swell of fortune seekers who’d come to California.
Harley wasn’t seeking her fortune or a job in Harmony Valley. And if she had been, she’d be looking for tile work, not architectural projects. So it didn’t make sense that she let herself be swept out the door of Martin’s and along the sidewalk. Except that Rose had mentioned a theater balcony and Harley wanted to see the space.
To torture myself.
Harley’s mother used to say Inspiration never comes when it’s convenient.
For the last few months Harley had edited Mom’s statement to Inspiration never comes.
“We can’t stay long,” Vince was saying. “Brit’s bachelorette luncheon is today.”
Harley wasn’t hungry. At least, not for food. She was hungry for solutions to architectural riddles. No one had a special recipe for that.
“I’m so looking forward to the wedding.” Rose glided ahead of her. “Phil promised to make me a redhead while Brit was on her honeymoon.” She glanced over her shoulder at Harley. “He’s the colorist at Brit’s beauty shop.”
“You always chicken out on coloring your hair.” Mildred was winded, keeping up with her walker.
Harley slowed down. She was in love with an emotionally unavailable man and she’d failed at the one thing she wanted in life. Why rush?
“Are you okay?” Vince asked her in a low voice.
She nodded, knotting her fingers. If they’d been engaged for real, he’d have held her hand.
Mayor Larry led them to the corner, his long, gray ponytail swaying behind him. “This location would be ideal for Fit to be Tie-Dyed. Tourists will see my store as they enter the town proper.”
The town council was congratulating the mayor on his clever store name, while Harley was biding her time, waiting to see this building before the one they thought was good for a theater.
The mayor unlocked the door to a small, empty, retail space. “This used to be the locksmith shop. I’d like to have some display space here by the windows and a countertop in the middle.” He pointed here, there and everywhere. “And a row of sinks along the back wall where people can make their own tie-dye.”
“You don’t need an architect for this.” Harley finally found her voice. “You need someone like Vince. He builds things.”
She’d expected Vince to frown, but he surveyed the space with a critical eye.
“We have a local contractor.” The mayor’s smile never wavered as he rejected Vince.
Vince’s frown came and went so fast, Harley might have missed it if she hadn’t been staring at him.
“We didn’t know an architect.” Agnes beamed at Harley. “Until you.”
“Let me finish telling you my vision.” The mayor regained the floor. “I wanted to knock out this wall into the empty space next door and build dressing rooms, plus have additional retail space and storage. I want it to be more like a loft you’d see in downtown San Francisco.”
“But with more pizzazz.” Rose raised her hands and lowered them like a jazz-fingered rainbow. “You young people want to shop the internet. Larry is talking about building an experience, not just a T-shirt store.”
Mayor Larry nodded emphatically. “Folks are always looking for something else to do in town.”
“Let’s not forget it’s my granddaughter’s wine that brings people here,” Agnes said with pride, as if making sure the mayor knew the pecking order of Harmony Valley attractions.
“I still say we could charge for go-kart trips up and down Parish Hill.” Mildred sat on her walker, staring out the window. “How fun would that be?”
“Great fun,” Vince seconded enthusiastically.
“Until someone crashes on one of those hairpin turns.” Rose slapped her hands together.
“Not everyone is as good a driver as you were, Mildred,” Vince said, earning him smiles from Agnes and Rose.
“There is that, I suppose,” Mildred said morosely.
Harley was intrigued enough to walk the space. “You’ve got good bones here, except it’s brick, which isn’t always stable when you remove it to create new doorways and windows. At least, not when it’s this old.” A century, if not longer.
“But it can be done?” the mayor half asked, half stated.
“Anything can be done with the right vision,” Harley said before catching herself. That had been a phrase she’d often heard from one of her favorite college professors.
“That’s the spirit,” Vince murmured.
“Let’s look at my project.” Rose did a little shuffle toward the door. “It’s across the street.”
She led them toward a mid-century, flat-topped building with floor-to-ceiling windows and a sign on top in red letters that said Groceries. Agnes had a key and took them inside. The metal shelves still created aisles, blocked by cobweb girders. A miniature train track ran along the outer walls about seven feet up. The track was held up by suspension wires.
“I see this as the lobby and the entry to the main seats.”
Mildred sat on her walker near the door. “It’s rather large for a lobby.”
Rose peered down an aisle. “Perhaps we could have dressing rooms in the back there.”
“Where do you see the stage?” Harley had to ask. The building was just a flat box. Any stage would be at floor level and hard to see.
“Next door.” Rose led them outside and into a two-story building with tall ceilings. “The stage would be small—maybe thirty by twenty.” She turned and raised her slender arms to the ceiling. “There’d be small balconies above us.”
The building wasn’t ideal for a theater. It was built like a long, narrow box. It felt better suited for a tattoo parlor than a playhouse.
“I can see the balconies.” Vince was staring up at the wrong end of the building for balconies. There wasn’t enough support on the long wall.
Rose twirled to his side. “Can you see a ceiling painted with a scene from Greek mythology? And walls painted with other balconies, as if Renaissance lords and ladies watched the performance?”
“You said you wanted a couple to be kissing,” Mildred pointed out.
“Or whispering secrets and pointing to a handsome man in the crowd,” Agnes added.
“Well, I can see it.” Somewhere between the bakery and the theater, Vince had switched allegiances. He quirked a brow at Harley, as if daring her to see the old woman’s vision.
“Can it be done?” Rose clasped her hands to her chest, eyes widening hopefully.
Disappointing her would be like disappointing her own grandmother. “Anything can be done with the right vision,” Harley allowed carefully, adding a qualifier. “If you have enough money.”
“No problem.” This from the mayor whose shorts were worn at the seams and whose Birkenstock sandals had deep, dark, toe imprints from years of wear.
“I’m going to borrow from my grandson-in-law.” Rose said emphatically. “For which I’ll pay him back with interest.”
Mildred sighed. “Here’s hoping you live long enough to pay him back.”
“Mildred,” Agnes scolded.
The mayor drifted toward the door, as if keen to avoid town council drama.
“I’m not saying she shouldn’t have dreams.” Mildred’s gaze landed on Vince, perhaps seeking an ally. “I’m just saying a traditional bank would laugh her out the door for having dreams at this age.”
“Pah!” Rose’s willowy white brows came down as hard as her foot on the scuffed linoleum. “You should never stop dreaming, no matter the cost.”
“Dreams aside, we need a plan to move this forward.” Despite his tie-dye and long ponytail, the mayor was more of a pragmatist. “Could you draw up plans for us?”
“Certainly, she could,” Vince said. “Harley is a dream believer.”
Harley frowned at Vince. “Unfortunately, I’m not licensed to practice in California.” Not to mention she hadn’t completed her internship with Dan.
“We wouldn’t want to tax you professionally,” Agnes said, speaking when the mayor and Rose seemed too crushed to do more than pout. “But if you could sketch your ideas so we could bring them to someone else, that would be most helpful.”
“Someone else will have a different vision.” A more executable vision. Harley refused to look above their heads to balcony height.
“What we’re saying is, we lack imagination ourselves,” Mildred said flatly, the true pragmatist among them. “We need a boost on the swing before we can swing alone.” When Harley didn’t immediately answer, she added, “We would pay you, of course.”
“Done.” Vince clapped a hand on Harley’s shoulder.
Harley mumbled something noncommittal and waited until they’d left Main Street to turn on Vince. “You had no right to tell them I could do that.”
“You’re just like them.” Vince shrugged. “You need a little push to get you back on track professionally.”
“I’m right where I need to be.” But how it turned her stomach to say that.
“There’s no future as a laborer in construction, Harley.”
She frowned. “Says the man who’s a laborer in construction.”