my friend, Mom. She’s my office manager. An employee. You don’t invite George or Paulo over for Sunday dinner. I don’t see why you felt the need to invite Annabelle.”
“George and Paulo have their own families to go home to,” Mary answered with a slight clip, making him feel like a kid again. How did mothers manage to hold on to that tone even after their kids were grown? “It’s obvious that young woman needs a family. She’s alone and needs someone to take her under their wing. Besides, she’s a friend of Dana’s so she’s practically family anyway.”
Dana smiled at Mary. “That’s so sweet but I know Annabelle and she’d never cross the line between employee and employer. It’s something she’s a bit of a stickler for.”
“Oh? How come?” Mary asked, intrigued by this bit of information. Truth be told, Dean was curious, too.
Dana must’ve realized she’d divulged too much for she looked to Sammy for help.
“Anyone hear from Josh and Tasha?” Sammy asked, giving Dana a subtle wink.
A shrewd light entered Mary’s eyes but she allowed the subject change, answering with good cheer. “I did this morning. They’re still in Punta Gorda but they’ll be leaving soon.”
“Why can’t they go to a normal place for a vacation?” Dean grumbled, mostly because Josh was his best welder. “What’s wrong with Hawaii? Or Oregon? South America is nothing but a jungle.”
“You know why. Tasha loves Punta Gorda and this was the first time she’s been able to get back since the wedding. She may have quit the Peace Corps to marry Josh and raise a family here but I think a part of her heart is still with those jungle people.”
Dana giggled at Mary’s use of jungle people but Dean was surly and didn’t find the humor in anything. He gestured to Sammy. “You get that cement guy to come down on his price?”
Brian, the Halvorsen patriarch, came in from his study and after clapping each of his sons on the shoulder, took his place at the head of the table. “Who are you using for cement?” he asked, his ears perking at the construction business talk, but Mary put her foot down.
“No shop talk at the table. You know that. Where’s Brandon? I expected to see him tonight. With Christopher gone to visit his mother for a few weeks I feel deserted by my only grandsons.”
Dean smiled. “Brandon is having dinner over at Jessie’s house tonight. He told me to tell you he promises not to enjoy anyone else’s mashed potatoes as much as yours.”
“Smart boy,” Mary said with no small amount of pride. “I like that Jessie. She’s a sweet girl, though watch that those hormones don’t go and get him into trouble.”
“Brandon’s a good kid. He won’t do anything stupid,” Dean said, though a frisson of alarm followed. Maybe he needed to have a talk with Brandon, make sure that they were using protection if they were sexually active. Ugh. The thought made him feel old. For some reason he’d always assumed Beth would be the one to tackle that conversation. She’d been good at handling the things that made Dean squirm.
Dinner conversation flowed around him and he participated with one-word answers, wishing he’d called off dinner with his parents. He wasn’t good company tonight. And it came down to one simple reason. He’d wanted Annabelle there. And that made him angry with himself.
The woman became more beautiful the more time he spent with her, which should’ve been impossible as she was already prettier than anyone had a right to be. Moments went by when he lost track of his thoughts simply because he’d caught a whiff of her skin or hair and an irrational desire to bury his nose in it always followed. He wondered how she got her skin to sparkle as if it had been dusted with sunshine, or how her brown eyes could appear softer than warm chocolate. Worse, he wanted to know what memory left that haunted look behind when it visited.
Heaving a private sigh, he returned to his mostly untouched plate and swore at his dilemma.
He had no business being attracted to Annabelle. The reasons were many and varied but the biggest reason had to do with his heart. When Beth had died, his heart died with her.
Annabelle deserved more than he could offer.
ANNABELLE, with Honey at her hip, walked into the small deli, and quickly found Dana in the back already sipping an iced tea.
“Starting without me?” Annabelle joked as she settled Honey into a baby chair.
“Sorry. I was parched.” Dana assessed Annabelle openly. “You look good. I see working with Dean agrees with you.”
“Having a steady paycheck agrees with me,” Annabelle corrected her but smiled, knowing Dana was just giving her a hard time. “So, I’ve joined the D-Day committee. Tell me, have I made a huge mistake or what?”
“Depends. I think it’s a good way to connect with the community. The whole town seems to be involved, but on the other hand, do you want to be that involved? I mean, no offense, AnnaB, but you’ve never been what anyone would call a joiner.”
“I’ve never been somewhere I felt welcome to join,” Annabelle answered. “It’s not like Hinkley was a wealth of open arms. When was the last time anyone cared what happened to the people living on Bleeter Street?”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Dana muttered. “God, I hate that place.”
“Yeah, me, too.” Annabelle’s thoughts went immediately to the single-wide mobile home of her childhood that smelled perpetually of stale beer and musty carpet no matter how many times she’d tried sweeping it out. Dana’s mobile had been two trailers down. Sometimes Annabelle could hear the muffled shouts that came from Dana’s family as they brawled within the claustrophobic space. The next day, Dana had often had bruises.
Dana broke the silence first, saying, “Well, good for you for joining. So, what has Mary put you in charge of?”
“Refreshments.” Annabelle shifted in her chair with a frown. “But I’m not quite sure what that entails. I was going to ask but the meeting got a little chaotic and I forgot. Those quilters are a wild bunch.”
“You’ll be in charge of bringing drinks to the construction crew. Lemonade, water, stuff like that. But don’t worry, you’ll have a bunch of kid volunteers at your disposal. It’s going to be like an old-fashioned barn-raising, except we’re not raising a barn, we’re relocating a mill.”
“I still can’t believe they’re going to do that,” Annabelle said. “Makes me nervous just thinking about it.”
“I wouldn’t worry. A company from out of town is going to do the actual moving and then once the mill is on the museum property, that’s when everyone else will get involved.”
“It’s hard to believe so many people care,” Annabelle said.
The two women caught each other’s stare. Dana reached over and grasped Annabelle’s free hand. “No place is perfect but Emmett’s Mill comes close. This is a town where people care about their neighbors. If I hadn’t seen it myself I wouldn’t have believed it. This town takes care of their own pretty well. It feels good.”
Annabelle was wary of anything that sounded too good to be true even if she wanted to believe. She tried pulling away but Dana wouldn’t let her.
“You’re so used to being on the defensive that you don’t know how to feel when no one is trying to attack you. I know. I felt the same way until I met Sammy. He showed me that not everyone has an agenda.”
Annabelle forced a laugh and pressed a kiss to Honey’s head as she gestured for Dana to stop. “I surrender. This talk is too serious for lunch. C’mon, I don’t want to spend my lunch hour arguing the merits of Emmett’s Mill. I agree with you, it’s a great town, otherwise I wouldn’t have moved here. Although,” she said, pausing with pursed lips, “I think I got a prank call last night.”
“What