Chapter Eight
Daisy had issues.
Simon had never had any doubt about that. Lately, though, those issues were making it difficult to justify all the time the girls spent with her. It was one thing to be a little emotional and high-strung. It was another to believe stories of ghosts and goblins, to fill the girls’ heads with romantic notions and superstitions.
“This has got to stop,” he muttered, eyeing the girls and wondering how in God’s name he was going to ease them out of their aunt’s overly protective clutches.
“She means well,” Apricot responded as if she knew exactly what he was talking about.
“Mercy killers mean well, Apricot, but that doesn’t make what they’re doing right.”
She laughed, the sound spilling out into the quiet afternoon. Even weekends weren’t loud in Apple Valley. People meandered along Main Street looking in store windows and sipping lemonade or iced coffee. Most were heading to the park, where baseball diamonds and basketball courts were usually bustling with activity.
“You’re laughing, but you’re not the one who has daughters whose heads are being filled with fairy tales and superstitions.” He was only partially kidding about that. He worried about Daisy’s influence on the girls. The nice routine existence he’d carved out in Apple Valley still had the easy rhythm of home and family, but there’d been a discordant note for the past few months. He’d chalked it up to Daisy’s rough breakup, but maybe there was more to it than that. The niggling thought had been bothering him more than he wanted it to.
“I’m not much for superstition, but fairy tales are wonderful. Romance and danger and happily-ever-afters, what could possibly be wrong with that?” Apricot bent to swipe ice cream from Evie’s chin. Rather than pulling away like she would have if it were her aunt, Evie smiled, a kind of eager longing in her eyes that made Simon’s heart ache.
“Plenty,” he responded, his tone gruffer than he’d intended. “There are no easy roads in life, and it’s best if the girls understand that early.”
“Difficult roads are exactly the reason why we should all believe in fairy tales.” She licked ice cream from her knuckle, her profile all steep angles and smooth skin. He didn’t think she had a bit of makeup on, but somehow she looked flawless. “They give us something to hope for and dream about and work toward. Who doesn’t want a happily-ever-after?”
“Is that what you thought you’d have with your ex?”
She shrugged. “I thought I’d at least have a contently-ever-after.”
“No offense, but that sounds about as exciting as table tennis.”
“Some people love table tennis.” She grinned, her eyes sparkling despite the deep shadows beneath them. The girls were a few yards ahead, waiting at the crosswalk, their fluffy skirts billowing out as they twirled.
“Careful near the street!” he called even though there wasn’t a car in sight.
“So, what’s it like?” Apricot asked. “Raising a couple of girls on your own?”
“You thinking of adding to your family?”
“No!” she laughed. “Handsome is more than enough for me. I’m just curious. I have a few friends who are raising kids alone. Some say it’s easy. Others are struggling.”
“It would be easier to answer that question if I were actually raising the girls without help, but I’ve got Daisy and an entire community backing me up.”
“Does the community drive you as crazy as your sister-in-law?”
“You ask a lot of questions, Apricot, for someone who doesn’t plan to stick around town long.”
“Who says I don’t?”
“Just about everyone I’ve run into the past few days. Rumor has it you’re getting Rose’s place ready to sell.”
“Wonder who started that rumor?” She sounded more amused than angry, but there was a hint of sharpness in her gaze, a hardness to her jaw that made Simon think she was more annoyed than she wanted to let on.
“I can’t tell you that, but I can tell you certain people aren’t happy about it.”
“Certain people meaning Maura?”
“Good guess.”
“Educated guess,” she corrected. “The woman was shooting daggers at me before Handsome escaped.”
“People around here like things to stay the way they are.”
“Even if that means that a beautiful old house falls to ruin?” she asked as they reached the girls.
“Sometimes even then.”
“Well, I’m not letting Rose’s place fall to ruin, and I’m not selling it.” She took Rori’s hand, looked both ways, and headed into the street. He followed with Evie, the two of them making quite a picture for anyone who cared to look. He had a feeling plenty of people were looking.
That was the way it was in a small town. People pressing their noses against windows, watching as life played out, then reporting it to anyone and everyone they ran into.
“Not selling, huh?” he asked.
“Of course not. The house belongs to Rose, and she loves the place. The problem with my aunt is that she loves lots of things and lots of people. She can only focus on one of those loves at a time. Whatever is right in front of her is what she puts her energy into.”
“Out of sight, out of mind?”
“Something like that.” She smoothed her hair, her fingers long, her nails short and unpainted. Megan had been all about lotions and makeup and having her nails done every week. She’d loved pretty things and pretty places. He’d found that amusing and cute when they were dating. During their marriage her obsession with physical perfection had gotten old. He’d spent too many hours trying to convince her that she was beautiful, that her outfit was just right for the occasion, her hair gorgeous.
And he’d spent too much time thinking about her these past few days.
She’d been gone nearly seven years. He’d made peace with her death even if he hadn’t been able to forgive either of them for it. “It isn’t your responsibility to fix up your aunt’s place. You know that, right?”
“Sure, but I like the house too. I want to see it restored.”
“What’s your aunt think about it?” he asked as the girls raced through the gates that opened into Riley Park. Just beyond it, a path meandered its way around Riley Pond. A playground stood to the east. Added a few decades before Simon arrived, it had an old swing set, a slide, monkey bars, and several seesaws. The girls ran toward it, their cheerful screams making him smile. He had two days off a week, and he tried to spend every minute of them with the girls. It didn’t always work out. They had school and dance and swim lessons that Daisy had insisted on. They also had friends who wanted playdates and trips to the bowling alley. He tried not to be resentful of those things, but the older the girls got, the more he could feel the swift current of time dragging them all along. It made him want to hold on tight to every moment he had with the twins.
“I haven’t asked. Rose is pretty laid-back. I’d say she isn’t going to care,” she responded as she scanned the area. “This is a lovely park. Someone spent a lot of time planning it out.”
“The first mayor of Apple Valley commissioned it after his wife died. Originally it was just gardens, but it’s been expanded over the years.”
“It’s nice. Very natural. It must be stunning in the spring when the foliage blooms.” She touched the leaf of a cherry tree. No flowers this time of year, but she was right, in the spring, it came alive with pink buds.
“It is. One of the prettiest places in Apple Valley.”
“One of the prettiest? Are there other gardens?” She dropped down on a bench near the playground and took Handsome from her purse. He settled onto her lap, rolling himself into a tight ball of coarse gray fur and purring loudly.
“Private gardens. Some of them are pretty big, but I was thinking about Apple Valley Community Church. It’s one of the twins’ favorite places. The grounds are nice and there’s a cemetery in the back of it. The building is a little older than the park.” He sat beside her, his thigh just close enough to hers for their heat to mix. He could have sat farther away, but he didn’t want to. He liked Apricot. She amused him, took his mind off of things he’d rather not think about.
There was a little bit of danger in that, sure. He wasn’t in the market for a relationship. Wouldn’t be in the market for one until the girls were grown and gone. He dated on occasion, but never more than two dates with the same woman. The way he saw things, three dates was the kind of thing a woman could pin hopes on, and he didn’t want to disappoint anyone. He had enough guilt on his shoulders for six people. He didn’t want to add to it.
“I remember the church. My aunt took me there when I was a kid. I haven’t been there in years.” Apricot stretched her legs out and crossed them at the ankles, showing off white high-tops and muscular calves. Her skin looked silky and smooth and he had the absurd urge to run his hand up her calf to see if it was. Not a good place for his mind to be going, but he let it go there anyway. Nothing wrong with a little harmless flirtation. He doubted Apricot wanted anything more. Not with what she’d just gotten out of.
“It’s not far if you want to visit.” He gestured to the building that stood at the top of Riley Bluff. Stark white in the afternoon sun, it belonged on a vintage postcard or in a Norman Rockwell painting.
Or in a town like Apple Valley.
“Is it open to the public?”
That made him laugh, and she scowled, poking him in the upper arm. “That was a legitimate question. In LA, nothing is left unlocked. Not even churches.”
“Sorry.” He managed to stop the laughter, but his lips were twitching and, no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t quite keep the smile off his face.
“No, you’re not.” She huffed, and he laughed again.
“Maybe not. Where I come from, churches are always open to the public. The same is true here. You can go any time. Day or night that building will be unlocked.”
“Good to know.” She settled back against the bench, turned her gaze on Simon. She had the bluest eyes he’d ever seen and the kind of fair complexion he usually associated with redheads. Freckles danced across her cheeks and there was a tiny smear of ice cream at the corner of her lips.
He wiped it away the same way she’d done with Evie, his thumb running along the corner of her mouth. It should have been an innocent gesture, one friend helping out another, the touch there and gone without even a moment of anything else. But something happened when he touched her skin. Not fireworks or sparks. Just . . . heat. The kind he’d tried to avoid the past few years. The kind that led a man to do stupid things and a woman to make unwise choices.
Her eyes widened, and he knew she felt it too. Knew he should move his thumb and ease away and pretend things were just the same as they’d been two seconds ago.
Problem was, he’d never been good at pretending.
He didn’t do games.
He’d been raised to go into every friendship, every business deal, every partnership, with unbridled honesty.
“This is going to be a problem,” he said quietly, his thumb sliding down smooth, silky skin. First her cheek, then her neck. Her pulse fluttered rapidly beneath warm skin, and he imagined pressing his lips to that spot. “A very big problem.”
She cleared her throat, scooted away. “I don’t see why it should be. We’ll just . . . avoid being around each other.”
“That’s about as practical as a swimsuit in a winter storm.”
Her lips twitched and she shook her head. “Stop being charming and funny, Simon. That’ll help.”
“Charming, huh?” Nice was the word most women used. Nice. Helpful. Kind. That was the way he liked it and the way he’d worked hard to keep it.
“Yes. And you know it,” she accused. “So don’t play innocent. The honey-smooth Southern accent, the gentlemanly manners. It’s disgusting.” She scooped Handsome up, deposited him in her purse, and stood. “I’ll tell my parents you think so,” he offered.
“You know what Grandma Sapphire says about guys like you?” she asked.
“Do I want to?”
“Probably, but I refuse to repeat it.” She might have walked away, but he snagged her hand, pulled her back so she was standing between his thighs.
“Now you’ve got me curious, so give. What’s she say?”
“She says that if you find a guy with good old-fashioned Southern manners and good old-fashioned Southern charm, you need to hold on to him. According to her, those kinds only come around once in a lifetime.”
“I think I like your grandmother,” he said.
“You would.” She snorted, tugging her hand from his and placing both fists on her slender hips. “The problem with Sapphire is that she married when she was eighteen.”
“A man filled with Southern charm and Southern manners?”
“Of course. They were married fifty years, and she swears they never had one fight worth remembering.”
“It could be true,” he pointed out.
“It could also be that they fought like cats and dogs, and she forgot that after he died. People do that, you know. Make the past prettier than it was.”
“Sometimes they just tell it like it is, Apricot. Maybe the fights she had with her husband weren’t important enough to remember. Maybe the joy they had together outweighed everything else. Whatever the case, she found the kind of love most of us want and can only hope to achieve.”
She eyed him for a moment, then shook her head. “You really are good, Simon.”
“I’m not trying to be good.” He stood, their bodies so close their heat combined and made a furnace that Simon knew he’d be wise to move away from. He stayed right where he was, looking into Apricot’s eyes and listening to the girls squeal as they took turns on the slide. The sun was hot and bright, the day just perfect enough for the beginning of something wonderful. “I’m trying to be honest. I have a grandmother too, and she says honesty is always the best policy unless you’re discussing weight or looks.”
She laughed, and he wanted to capture the sound on her lips, savor the taste of her happiness. He might have done it if his cell phone hadn’t rung. He still might have if Apricot hadn’t stepped away.
“Are you going to answer that?” she asked.
“Sure.” He pressed the phone to his ear, his gaze still on Apricot. Her eyes sparkled and her cheeks glowed, her hair brushing against her nape as she turned to watch the girls.
“Simon, here. What’s up?” he asked, distracted by the deep red and bold gold streaks in Apricot’s hair.
“It’s Max. We’ve got a problem.” Stanford’s gruff voice was the splash of ice water Simon needed. He turned toward the entrance of the park, watching as a couple walked toward the pond.
“What kind of problem?”
“Daisy has been robbed.”
“What?!” His blood ran cold, adrenaline pumping through his veins. “Where and when?”
“Near as we can tell, it happened in that little alley between the bank and the diner. I’m trying to get the details, but Daisy is in hysterics. It might be best if you come to the hospital.”
“She’s hurt?”
“A torn skirt and maybe a scratch on her arm. Can’t really tell on account of the woman is screaming her head off and won’t let anyone near her. Cade is here, and he told me to call you. He thought you might be able to calm her down enough that we could get the full story. Until we do, we can’t look for a suspect.”
“I’ll be there in ten.” He shoved the phone in his pocket and ran toward the girls. “Girls! Come on! We’ve got to leave!”
“What’s going on?” Apricot asked as he grabbed Rori and lifted her off the slide.
“Daisy—” He looked at the girls, who were watching him with wide-eyed curiosity. “I need to get them home and ask the neighbor to watch them. God! I hope she’s home. If she’s not—”
“I’ll take care of them. You go do what you need to do.”
Any other time, any other circumstances, and he would have refused the offer, but as big a pain in the butt as Daisy had become, she was family. If she needed him, he wanted to be there. Now. Not ten minutes from now.
“Are you sure? I could be a while.”
“As long as you don’t mind me bringing the girls to my place, I’m fine with it. I told Jet that I’d—”
“You’re going to need booster seats for the girls,” he said, cutting her off. “I don’t think your truck has shoulder belts. You take my SUV. I’ll take the truck.”
She didn’t ask questions, just took his keys and gave him hers. “Henry is fickle. Give him a little grace and don’t expect him to accelerate too quickly.”
He nodded. “Thanks. Be good, girls!” He dropped a kiss on each girl’s head, his heart beating the passing seconds, his stomach hollow with worry and anger. Apple Valley wasn’t the kind of place where people were robbed in the middle of the day. The crime rate was so low that most people in town left their doors unlocked. The thought of Daisy being robbed was almost inconceivable. The thought of her being hurt made him want to hunt down the perpetrator and teach him a lesson he wouldn’t forget.
He raced toward the park entrance, his heart pounding a million miles an hour. He’d failed Megan, and he’d never forgiven himself for that. There was no way in hell he was going to fail Daisy. Apricot’s truck was parked right where she’d left it, the blue paint gleaming in brilliant sunlight. The interior smelled like her—flowers and sunshine with just a hint of summer rain. He filed the information away as he pulled onto Main Street and raced toward the hospital.
“Daddy sure can run fast,” Rori commented as Apricot led the girls along the path Simon had taken. “Do you think something horrible happened? Do you think there’s a bad guy that he has to catch?”
What she thought was that something had happened to Daisy. She wasn’t going to tell the girls that. “Whatever is going on, I’m sure he’ll handle it just fine.”
“Daddy can handle anything,” Evie said with a full measure of pride in her voice. “He helped a girl have a baby at the grocery store last year.”
“Did he?” Apricot responded, her focus only half on the conversation. Whatever had happened to Daisy, it couldn’t be good. Simon’s expression had said the things he hadn’t—he was worried and angry.
“Yep. Andrew Danner’s mom was right there when it happened. Eliza Jane is only fifteen years old, and she hadn’t even told anyone she was going to have a baby. That’s probably why she had it right in the middle of aisle six. Thank goodness Daddy was there. He knew what to do. He helped his dad birth like a million calves and it’s almost the same thing.”
“Except a baby is a lot smaller than a calf,” Rori broke in.
“Doesn’t matter,” Evie responded. “Andrew said that his mom said Eliza screamed so loud a bottle of pickles shattered into a million pieces. Do you think that’s true, Apricot? Do you think having a baby hurts so bad a woman could break a pickle jar from screaming so loud?”
Dear God in heaven! What was she supposed to say to that? “Well—”
“Don’t be silly, Evie! Her scream didn’t make the jar break. She kicked the shelf with her foot on account of she was basically trying to push a watermelon-sized head out her—”
“It would take some really powerful lungs to break a jar,” Apricot cut in, hoping to heaven that the girls would drop the subject.
“Or a big sledgehammer. One time a bunch of kids broke the school windows, and that’s what Daddy said they used. Sledgehammers.” Evie skipped ahead, her blue tutu swishing around scrawny legs. She had bruises and scratches on her calves and a few bruises on her arms.
“Have you been climbing trees, Evie?” Apricot hurried to catch up, dragging the slower-moving Rori along beside her.
“How’d you know? Magic? Because Andrew says that you’re a witch. I told him he was wrong, but it would be kind of cool if you were.”
“She’s not a witch!” Rori exclaimed, her cheeks pink with indignation. “You’re not. Are you?”
“No.” Apricot laughed. “I’m an herbalist.”
“What’s that?” the girls asked in unison. “Jinx!” they both cried.
Silence followed. Blessed, wonderful, joyous silence. Silence that was not filled with questions about childbirth and women’s screams or about their father and where he’d gone.
Hopefully there hadn’t been an accident. Hopefully Daisy was just fine. Apricot had a bad feeling about things, though, and Sapphire had always said a person couldn’t go wrong trusting her gut.
“Say my name,” Evie whispered, her lips barely moving.
“Pardon me?”
“My name. You have to say it so that I can talk.”
“You’re already talking,” she pointed out.
“Because she’s a cheater,” Rori whispered so softly Apricot barely heard her.
“I am not!”
“Are too!”
“Am not!”
“Girls!” She shouted so loudly an older woman across Main Street turned to frown in her direction.
“No bickering,” Apricot added more quietly.
“You have to say our names,” Evie whispered.
“Right. Okay. Evie and Rori, no bickering.”
“You did cheat,” Rori said immediately. “And I’m going to tell Daddy. You know what he says about cheaters.”
“Well, you cheated too! You talked before she said your name!” Evie shot back, her blond hair shaking with the force of her rage. Apricot hadn’t been around kids in more years than she wanted to admit to, but dealing with childish squabbles had been part and parcel of growing up in Happy Dale. She might have been away for a long time, but she hadn’t forgotten the skills she’d learned there.
“If you two keep it up,” she said quietly, “I’m not going to let you help me paint my living room.”
They fell silent, both of them eyeing her with suspicion. “Daisy never lets us help paint,” Rori said.
“Maybe Daisy doesn’t have a lot of painting that needs to be done. I do. An entire house. Today, I’m starting the living room.”
“You could paint it pink,” Rori suggested.
“Or blue and pink stripes. That would be really cool. Don’t you think it would be cool, Rori?”
“Yes! And you could get pink couches, Apricot. And blue curtains and a blue rug. We could even help you pick them out.”
“As nice as that sounds, I can’t do it. The house doesn’t belong to me. It belongs to my aunt.”
“You have an Aunt Daisy?” Evie asked.
“I have an Aunt Rose. She owns the house, and she likes the furniture in it, so I can’t change that. Pink and blue walls just won’t look right with the furniture she has.” Apricot unlocked Simon’s SUV and opened the door for the girls.
“It isn’t brown furniture, is it?” Evie wrinkled her nose as she climbed in. “Because I think brown would be an ugly color for the wall.”
“No brown. I bought a pretty cream.”
“Cream is boring. You should pick something else so people don’t think you’re boring too.” Evie buckled herself into a child’s booster seat.
“That’s not nice,” Rori responded. “If she likes boring old cream, she should paint the walls with it. I still won’t think she’s boring.”
“Thanks, sweetie.” Apricot chucked her under the chin and closed the door. The girls were cute as could be, precocious and just a little naughty. Which she absolutely loved. But she already had a headache, and their chatter wasn’t helping it go away.
She glanced in the review mirror as she pulled onto Main. The girls had settled into silence, both of them looking out the windows, their arms stretched across the emptiness between them, their fingers entwined.
They looked like angels, sweet and innocent as could be, so she kept driving down Main Street and out of town, the afternoon sun shimmering in the cloudless sky as she made her way back to Rose’s place.