Ignore the critics. In the end, their insight holds little water because 1) they don’t have a clue what it feels like to sit at an easel all day, and 2) their job is to find fault. Even if their ultimate goal is to help you improve, you still know what’s best for you in the end.
“Okay, lass. Finished. What’s next?” Mac stood in the back doorway of Primrose Cottage holding three burnt-out light bulbs.
Noelle took the bulbs from him and placed them delicately into the trash. “Let’s see…” She recalled the list she’d made. “Leaky faucet, impossible-to-reach bulbs, broken disposal. Yep, that’s all I can think of.”
“Ye need to come up with a real challenge next time.”
“I’ll work on that.” Noelle smiled and started to describe the dripping in her upstairs bathroom sink when a light tap on the front door interrupted her. “Oh, let me get this.”
“Aye, lass. I’ll be in the back garden, taking care of the fountain.”
As Mac closed the door, a pair of glowing orbs glared from a dark shadow beneath the chair in the next room. Mr. Darcy had been to the vet for his shots this morning and seemed to blame Noelle. She had assumed his pouting would’ve ended already, but from the looks of things, his pity party would continue for the rest of the day.
She snickered at him on her way to the front door. She opened it to Adam, smiling a healthy, rested smile—no five o’clock shadow, no bags under his eyes—wearing her favorite black leather jacket. The one that made him look particularly GQ.
His father’s check-up yesterday had been the best possible news—the stents successful, the doctors optimistic about a full recovery.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, horrified she hadn’t a single stitch of makeup on and that she had thrown her hair into one of those casual, messy knots. She hadn’t planned to see anyone except Mac on this rare stay-home day.
“I brought you something.” He produced a gorgeous bunch of white day lilies in a purple glass vase.
“Oh! They’re beautiful.” She brought them closer for a whiff. “Mmm. My absolute favorite.”
“I know.”
“What’s the occasion?”
“It’s for a lot of things. For taking me to the hospital. For letting me gripe and whine about my life every day thereafter. For being such a perfect friend.”
Noelle waved him inside. “Well, thank you. I accept. Come in. Anyone who brings me flowers deserves at least a cup of tea.” She ushered him in to the living room at the exact moment Mr. Darcy darted out from beneath his hiding place and into the little nook beside the iron cast stove. He watched Adam’s every move with increasing suspicion.
“What’s up with him?” Adam pointed, chuckling as he moved to the couch.
“The evil vet.” Noelle gave the lilies center stage on the table by the window. “Mr. Darcy had his round of shots, and he’s still mad at me.”
“Aw. Poor thing.”
“Yes, the poor thing who nearly got me sued—he actually bit the vet’s assistant.”
Mr. Darcy hissed from his shadowy corner.
“Hmm. I think I’ll give him some space today,” Adam said.
“Good idea. I’ll go get our tea.” Noelle soon returned with two cups and saucers. She handed him one and sat beside him, sipping hers before it spilled over. The back door closed behind her, and Noelle twisted around to see Mac in the doorframe.
“Getting some water. Don’t mind me.” He nodded at Adam before walking into the kitchen.
“I’m so happy about your dad,” she told Adam.
“It’s a huge relief. I went to visit him this morning. He still gets tired easily. But he looks better than I’ve seen him in weeks. Mom’s been doting over him—he begged me to distract her for a while so he could get some peace.” Adam set down his tea and reached for his ringing cell phone. “I feel like I’m on call these days. Every call could be important. Sorry.” He glanced at the screen, grimaced, and put the phone back into his pocket.
“A client you’re trying to avoid?”
“A fiancée I’m trying to avoid.” He propped his head on the pillow behind him and clasped his fingers together on his chest. “I don’t get why she has to make a big deal out of everything.”
“Did you guys have a fight or something?”
“A fight? I wish it were only one.” He extended his arm on the couch, his hand nearly touching her sleeve. “I can’t seem to do anything right. Yesterday, I didn’t tie the trash bags in a very specific way. This morning, I forgot to call the shop about my tux. Maybe it’s all the stuff with my dad, you know, my being away for long periods of time, but Laurel and I haven’t been… connecting. We’re out of synch or something.”
She couldn’t stop her heart from lifting at the thought of a significant crack in Adam’s relationship. And the way he spoke so candidly about it. Was this what he meant the other day, weighing his future?
The back door closed again. She had forgotten Mac was in the kitchen all that time.
“Adam, can I ask you something?” She felt like taking a chance, putting him on the spot about Laurel. She had nothing to lose. And she would have done the same for any other friend, like Jill or Desha.
“Sure.”
“Are you happy? I mean, I’m no expert on marriage, and I know that no relationship is perfect. But Laurel hasn’t been around much when you needed her. Is that what you want? In a marriage?”
“Well, she really did have all these meetings. She’s trying to get a promotion. And work is just super important to her.”
You should be important to her, Noelle wanted to say. Even though he was more honest than usual about his disappointments with Laurel, they clearly hadn’t pushed him to do something drastic. Like call off a wedding. Noelle wanted to shake him, wake him up, and make him see. But like an addict, he had to come to those conclusions on his own. She couldn’t force them.
“And anyway,” he added, “weddings create a lot of pressure. Ours is almost ten weeks away. It’s a fast-moving train that I can’t get off of.”
Maybe the disappointments were becoming enough. “What do you mean? Get off of?”
“Nothing. I’m rambling. Pre-wedding jitters, maybe.” Adam checked his watch and stood up with a wince. “I’d better run. Thought I’d surprise the workers with lunch today.”
“That’s a nice gesture. Glad you stopped by here first.” She walked him to the front door.
“Yeah, me too. Thanks for the tea.”
“Thanks for the flowers.”
He gave her a quick peck on the cheek and vanished as quickly as he’d arrived. She walked back to the living room, to the beautiful lilies that enveloped the entire room with their scent. She dipped her head down to smell them again—light and fragrant, almost sensual—as Mac knocked on the windowpane. She waved him inside.
“I repaired the leak in the fountain. ’Twas a small one,” he assured, removing his gloves. “Did your friend leave?”
“Yes, Adam’s gone.”
“He brought you those.” He pointed to the vase matter-of-factly.
“Yes.”
Mac nodded.
“You don’t like him very much, do you?” Noelle surprised herself with her own bluntness.
“I’m sure he’s a nice enough fellow,” Mac said in a voice more gravelly than usual. “I have no ill will ’gainst him. As long as he’s good to you.”
“I’m fine, Mac.”
He nodded again. She couldn’t read his expression—disappointed, concerned. “I’ll be off, then.”
She closed the door behind him, wishing the awkward walls between her and the men in her life—even Mr. Darcy!—would soon crumble.
Later that night, before heading for bed, Noelle checked her email. Two pieces of spam, and one email from Adam.
Had fun this afternoon. Thanks for listening to my issues. I know Laurel’s not your favorite subject. And I know I’ve said this a million times, but I appreciate your support during those dark days with my dad. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you there.
You’re the best,
Adam
Oh—and before this email gets too disgustingly sappy—tag, you’re it:
P.S.—I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For—U2
Noelle smiled and hit “Reply.”
The lilies were beautiful. I can smell them all over the house, a little piece of heaven. And you don’t have to keep thanking me. It’s a two-way street. You’ve listened to me ramble about my aunt and let me confide about the diary and the ring. I think we’re even by now.
Noelle
P.S.—Looking for a New Love—Jody Watley
Tapping her sock feet on the mat at the kitchen sink, Noelle shook her hips to the rhythm of a Pink song. She wiped out the last remnants of murky water and rinsed out Adam’s purple vase. The lilies had begun wilting yesterday, and today they stank. She intended to place white roses in the vase and return it to the living room table. Sorting through the roses she’d laid out a few minutes before, on the verge of belting out the lyrics, she jumped at the sight of Mac standing a few feet away inside the back door.
“Mac! Goodness. You scared me to death!” Out of breath, she muted the laptop.
“Sorry, lass. I knocked, but you didn’t hear.”
Noelle smiled, her heart still pounding fast. “You need your paycheck.” She found the envelope with his name on it. “Here you go.”
He turned the envelope in his hands, over and over, his lips pursed into a thin line.
“Is something on your mind? You seem distracted.”
“Aye.”
Noelle pulled out a chair for him and reached for the teapot.
“No, thank ye. I’ll stand. No tea, either.”
“Oh. Okay.” She placed her hands on the back of the chair and waited patiently.
“I’m not the type of man to beat ’round bushes. So I’ll just say what I came to say.”
With every pause, Noelle grew more concerned. Mac wasn’t one to be melodramatic.
“Over the past several months, you’ve become a sort of daughter to me.” He removed his cap and slicked back stray gray hairs.
“I’m honored. But Mac, you’re making me nervous. What’s this about?”
He cleared his throat. “That friend of yours… Adam. To be frank, I’m not sure your relationship with him is… healthy.”
Noelle shook her head in confusion. “This is about Adam?”
“Aye.”
“What are you talking about, ‘healthy’?”
“Lass, I’ve held my tongue. I don’t go interfering in things that aren’t my business. That’s not my way. But after seeing you two together a few days back—”
“What, when he brought me flowers? Oh, that was nothing. A small gesture of friendship.”
“’Twas more than that. Take it from a man who knows. That lad feels more than friendship. ’Tis in his eyes, in his mannerisms.”
“That’s ridiculous.” She gripped the chair harder. Though deep down, she wanted to believe his instincts were right, Mac’s concerns came out more like accusations. Like judgment. Her defenses rose.
“Then why are you both the talk of the village? Ye have been for months. People think you’re a couple. It’s gossip I’ve ignored. Until now.”
“I can’t believe you’re so concerned. Gossip is nothing. People talk. Especially in this town. Doesn’t mean it’s true.”
“Appearances matter, lass. May not be fair. But they count for something.”
“Mac, he’s getting married in, like, two months.”
“Aye. That’s the point.”
Noelle flushed with heat as her annoyance grew. “Mac, you have no right—”
“I didn’t mean to upset ye. I thought ’twas my duty—as your friend—to tell you to be careful.”
“Well. I appreciate your concern.” She freed her hands up to gesture as she spoke. To make this clear. “But you are not my father. You are my gardener. You have no business coming in here and flinging accusations around. Adam and I are only friends. That’s all we’ve ever been. I’m so tired of repeating this to people over and over again. No lines have been crossed. And even if they had been—that is none of your concern. I have nothing to explain to you. Or anyone else in this gossipy, spiteful village.”
“’Twas not my intent to hurt ye…” Mac bowed his head and placed on his cap, shuffling backward steps toward the door.
Noelle glared down at her hands as he shut the door softly behind him. Flustered, she pivoted toward the sink, staring out the window at the dark green leaves of a tree rustling in the wind. Where is this coming from? Mac had never warmed to Adam, but his sudden confrontation confused her, made her feel guilty for something.
She placed a cold palm to her forehead and closed her eyes to steady her breathing. A perfect afternoon perfectly ruined.
After a few minutes of stewing, she knew the best way to face it was to ignore the visit entirely, sweep it from her mind, and get back to her day. She had the power to set the day right, place it back on its rails and move on. She pushed away from the counter, reached for her laptop again, and clicked on the music defiantly. Cranking up the volume, she returned to her previous task. She picked up the vase once more and dried the inside with a rag. When she reached deeper into the bottom, the vase slipped from her wet fingers and onto the floor, where it splintered into a hundred pieces at her feet, sending Mr. Darcy into the next room.
“Shit!” She suppressed the desire to sit down and bawl. Or to scream with frustration. Instead, she collected the shards of purple glass, which started to form a tiny mosaic in the palm of her hand. A representation of how something so beautiful could shatter so unexpectedly.
The next morning, Noelle decided to make a day trip to see Jill. After her argument with Mac, and after fighting insomnia most of the night, Noelle needed a break, from Mac, from the entire village. From the whispers. She called Jill and offered to bring breakfast.
She arrived bearing an assortment of delicious breakfast treats. Jill opened the door, holding Eveline over her shoulder. “She won’t burp,” Jill said with a frustrated sigh, her hair unusually disheveled. She wore no makeup, and Noelle could see all her freckles.
“Want me to try?” Noelle offered.
“Oh, please do. I’d love an extra pair of hands. Gareth is always working, and right now, it seems Evie and I are the only ones in the world. I didn’t know motherhood would be so isolating.”
Noelle took the baby from Jill and placed her over her shoulder, bouncing lightly as she followed Jill into the sitting room. Evie smelled sweet, like baby powder. “She’s getting heavier, isn’t she?”
“I’m using muscles I never knew I had with her. That kid will only go to sleep if she’s held. It’s exhausting.” Jill peeked inside the bags Noelle had set down. “Mmm. Delish. Let me get plates and napkins.” She disappeared into the kitchen.
Noelle patted Eveline’s back as she puffed out little breaths on her neck. Just what she needed. An infant clasped to her, not wanting anything but to be held and comforted.
Jill returned and placed the croissants, bagels, and Danishes onto plates. “Pick your poison.”
“Danish,” Noelle responded. “Oh!” Small contractions on Evie’s back startled her. “I think she has the hiccups!”
Jill walked behind Noelle to see Evie’s face. “Believe it or not, that’s usually a signal she’s about to fall asleep. Finally. Let’s put her down. You can have some breakfast.” She carefully lifted her daughter out of Noelle’s arms and placed her into the bassinet then joined Noelle on the couch. “Well, this is certainly a treat. I hadn’t expected to see you today.” Jill picked a croissant.
“I just needed to get away.”
“From?”
“I had a little… disagreement with Mac.”
“The gardener?”
“And my friend. Though you wouldn’t know it from yesterday. I was quite rude to him, actually. He was only looking out for me, only telling the truth.” When she’d calmed down last night, given herself time to roll everything over in her mind, she knew how immature she’d been. Mac hadn’t said anything Noelle hadn’t thought of at one time or another.
“Truth about?” Jill coaxed.
“Adam. Mac thinks we’re becoming too close.”
“Are you?” She set her food aside and focused on her friend.
“We haven’t done anything, if that’s what you’re asking. We’re—”
“Just friends. It’s what you keep saying. Wasn’t it Shakespeare—methinks thou protest too much?”
First Mac, now Jill. Noelle could take only so much truth at this point.
“You know I just want the best for you,” Jill reassured. “And for Adam.”
“But that’s the thing. What is best for Adam? Is it Laurel?”
Jill looked down at her lap for the first time in the conversation.
“What is it?”
“I didn’t want to say anything, but we’ve been talking lately. Laurel and me. I think she’s trying to make friends. I don’t know that she even has any friends.”
“You like her.”
“‘Like’ is a strong word. Feel a bit sorry for her, maybe? Like she’s misunderstood, like we’ve been too hard on her?”
To Noelle it felt like a stab of betrayal. Irrational, yes, because Jill could befriend whomever she wished. But Noelle couldn’t help it. Jill was crossing to the other side, even a little bit, and it stung.
“We’re even scheduled to go shopping for her bridesmaids’ presents,” Jill continued. “She can’t decide and wants my opinion.”
At that point, nothing Noelle said would make a difference. If she showed disapproval, Jill would consider her rude or unfeeling. Jill was trying to reach out to someone who needed a friend. How can I possibly fault her for that?