Nora's Guy Next Door

“I have a teenage daughter, so I can relate. Sometimes we just have to let them learn from their own mistakes. Even when it drives us crazy.”

She thought about how furious she’d been when Becky came home a year ago with that dreadful tattoo on her forearm after spending the summer in Gallant Lake. Nora had nearly had a stroke right there in the airport. It was just a tiny heart-shaped padlock, but still. A tattoo! On her daughter’s perfect alabaster skin! What would people think if they saw it? What if it affected her career? And why a padlock of all things?

“Yeah, well, that sentiment might look nice on a greeting card, but here in the real world that’s not how it works.” The vulnerability was definitely gone from his eyes now. He was angry. With her. “It’s my job to make sure my kids are...” He stuttered and took a breath. “I mean, my kid. I have to make him understand what needs to be done. Whether he likes it or not.”

He gripped the cart so tightly his knuckles were white. Nora prided herself on being able to solve problems, but she was out of her depth dealing with rage this intense. It was time to extricate herself from this conversation with a complete stranger.

“Well...I...I should be going.” She couldn’t help making one last attempt to cheer him up. Becky always called her Little Suzy Sunshine. Nora was never sure if it was a compliment or not. “You know, someday you and your son will look back at this and laugh.” He started to disagree, but she held up her hand. “Our children will always be our children, no matter how old they get.”

“Really? More greeting-card platitudes? I hope you didn’t raise your daughter to believe all that ‘the sun will come out tomorrow’ nonsense. News flash—some children aren’t always our children. Sometimes they...” His mouth was set in a hard line. “Never mind. I don’t know why I’m still standing here talking to you.”

People didn’t usually get under her skin so easily, but this guy had Nora’s temper up in mere minutes. “I’m pretty sure you were going to thank me for helping you.”

He stared at her long enough to make her skin warm.

“I know your type. You’re a fixer. You could have minded your own business and everything would have been just fine. But you’re one of those that can’t help butting in. Well, now you can butt out. I sure as hell don’t need your sugar-coated advice today.”

He gave his cart a hard shove, sending more blueberries bouncing out of the container in his wake. Nora’s hand fluttered up to rest over her heart as he left. She tried never to curse, even to herself, but there was no other way to say it—Hot Produce Guy was an asshole. She glanced around in guilt, as if someone might have heard her unkind thoughts. Then she regrouped. Becky would be in Gallant Lake tonight. And they were going to have another talk about removing that horrid tattoo.

* * *

THREE HOURS LATER, Nora was stomping down the sidewalks of Gallant Lake. Alone. While she’d been shopping and dealing with Grumpy Hot Produce Guy, plans had changed. Becky wouldn’t be arriving until Thanksgiving Day now, instead of tonight. And she’d informed Nora by text. This day was not going at all the way she’d planned it.

Amanda finally chased her out of the house. “Your pacing and muttering is driving me crazy, Nora. Take my car and go into the village so you can do your pacing where I can’t see you. Have you ever been to Caffeine Cathy’s Coffee Café? Go check it out and keep yourself busy.”

Nora came to a halt in front of the ugliest building in the village. Painted in garish orange, pink and blue, Caffeine Cathy’s was a sharp contrast to the more conservatively decorated shops along Main Street. The harsh colors were out of place in postcard-pretty Gallant Lake. As if confirming her thoughts, she noticed a large For Sale by Owner sign in the window. The café might be ugly, but the aroma was heavenly, and there seemed to be steady traffic in and out the door.

The interior of the coffee shop was just as eclectic as the exterior. Wide, unfinished planks covered the floor, and the walls were original red brick, covered with artwork for sale. Mismatched tables and chairs, painted in a kaleidoscope of colors, were scattered around the long, narrow space. The counter was across the back, and Nora joined the line of customers.

One painting caught her eye as she waited. It was a beautiful image of a tall galleon sailing calm waters at night, with stars twinkling above. But the ship was heading straight for a high waterfall that led to a waiting sea monster wrapped in flames. Disaster loomed, and no one on that ship had a clue. What an odd thing to paint. Why didn’t the ship have a lookout? How could the serene sea be leading to such a violent end? She turned away, feeling uncomfortable and knowing that was probably exactly what the artist intended.

“Come on, Helen, this place is a joke.” An older couple was standing behind her. The man ignored his wife’s shushing, and if anything, he got even louder. His accent said New Jersey. “We could have gone to Ma’s for Thanksgiving, but no, you insisted we come to this godforsaken place in the boondocks. And they call this a coffee shop? I’d give my left arm for a Dunkin’ right now.”

“Herbie, be quiet!” Helen, wrapped in an aging fur coat that had seen better days, smacked her husband’s ribs hard enough to make Nora wince. “The grandkids woulda’ been bored outta’ their minds at your mother’s. The resort has an indoor pool, and the ski slopes at Hunter are open this weekend, which is the only reason Joey and Mary agreed to come here with their families. So shut up and enjoy yourself.”

Trying to save poor Herbie from any more spousal abuse, Nora chimed in. “You’re staying at the Gallant Lake Resort? I know the owners, and I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful weekend there with your family. But if you get restless, there’s a casino a little over an hour from here.” That news made Herbie smile, but not Helen.

“Don’t you even think about going to a casino, Herbert Comisky!” The large woman rounded on Nora. “Thanks a lot. Now we’ll be fighting over that damn casino business all weekend long.”

Nora stepped back, mumbling an apology. She was definitely losing her Suzy Sunshine mojo. What else could go wrong today?

“Hiya, honey, what can I get you?” Nora looked at the tall, willowy woman behind the chipped and coffee-stained counter. Her salt-and-pepper hair was pulled back into a thick braid that hung down her back, and she was wearing a shapeless tie-dyed dress that swept the floor. Literally. The hem was filthy from where it had removed dust and dirt from the old boards. But her dark brown eyes were kind and friendly, and Nora returned her smile, trying not to stare at the woman’s yellowing teeth.

“I’ll have a cappuccino with a shot of hazelnut, please.” She looked at the dusty glass case sitting on top of the counter. “And I’ll take that last scone, too.”

“You got it, honey. Give me just a minute.”

Herbie spoke up again behind Nora. “Gawd, give me strength. That must be Caffeine Cathy herself. Did you see those teeth? She either drinks fifty cups of coffee a day or smokes five packs of cigarettes. And that outfit. She’s a freakin’ hippy...”

Nora moved toward the register, determined not to let poor Cathy think she was with the obnoxious couple. A large poster was framed prominently on the wall behind the register.

Life is about the journey, not the destination.

Two thoughts ran through her mind at the same time. One was that it was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard. What was the point of a journey without a destination in mind? And the second thought was that this was exactly the kind of “greeting-card sentiment” Hot Produce Guy had accused her of that morning. She rolled her eyes at the memory, then saw Cathy dropping her scone on the floor. The woman shrugged when their eyes met, then she laughed as she quickly retrieved the scone and dropped it into a bag.

“Three-second rule, right? That’ll be four-fifty.”

The amount of grime on these floors wouldn’t qualify for a one-second rule, much less three. Nora opened her mouth to protest and heard Herbie snickering behind her. It wasn’t worth making a scene over, especially with those two as an audience. She’d just toss the scone and get back to Amanda’s before anything else could go wrong. She set a five-dollar bill on the counter. Apparently Herbie didn’t think she was moving fast enough, and he gave her arm a nudge. It was the arm that held the coffee she was raising to her lips. The coffee that didn’t have a tight lid. The lid that splattered coffee down the front of Nora’s light pink jacket.

“You should be more careful, dear.” Helen was biting back laughter, and it took all of Nora’s strength to head to the door without responding. Random swear words were threatening to break free in her head, but she shoved them back in the corner where they belonged. Get back to Halcyon and hide for the rest of the day. That was the only plan that made sense at this point. Until she stepped outside.

Never a champion at parallel parking, she knew she’d been lucky to find a double spot open near the shop that she could drive straight into. Except it wasn’t a double spot anymore. There was a truck parked behind the car and an enormous Cadillac sedan wedged into the space in front of it, leaving her about five inches to maneuver onto the street. Perfect.

She did her best, going back and forth, back and forth, back and forth between the Cadillac, the truck and the sidewalk. Finally those curse words broke free in her head, and she was mentally pulling a Hot Produce Guy routine, silently swearing up a blue streak. But she carefully kept the words to herself, even when her bumper nudged the Caddy just enough to set off the blaring car alarm.

And who came running out of Caffeine Cathy’s? None other than Herbie and Helen, both yelling and waving their arms. She dropped her forehead to the steering wheel, closed her eyes tightly and tried to summon all of her Southern breeding. She always said there wasn’t a problem that couldn’t be solved with a smile and a plan.

She just happened to be running low on both at the moment.

CHAPTER TWO (#u4c8ff74d-b9c9-53dd-91ce-3221c2bc7d1a)

ASHER PEYTON WAS lost in the process of staining the cherry sideboard in the work area of his shop, rubbing the finish to a satin sheen. Back and forth he went with the ball of cheesecloth, working in long strokes with firm pressure. It was a task that took a lot of time and very little thought. Clapton’s bluesy guitar was coming through the speakers mounted on the wall, and Asher was totally in The Zone, focused only on the fine grain of the wood coming to life under his fingers. Until a car alarm went off outside.

At first he figured someone set off their alarm by mistake, but when it kept going, he tossed the finishing cloth onto the workbench in disgust and grabbed his lukewarm cup of coffee. He walked to the plate glass window at the front of his shop to see what was going on.

There was a tiny red Mini Cooper nudged up against a big Cadillac right in front of his shop. Whoever owned the Caddy had to know they’d blocked that little car in completely, since their car was halfway into the street. An older couple came running out of Cathy’s shop, waving their arms all over the place like idiots.

Asher took a sip of coffee and watched in amusement as it took three tries for the guy to silence the alarm with his key fob. From all the yelling, you’d think the red car just totaled their gas hog instead of barely bumping it. The door of the red car opened slowly, and he caught a glimpse of pink.

Of all the rotten luck. It was that nosy little brunette from the grocery store. The one with the sweet accent and the compulsion to save people. The Fixer.

She got out of the car and faced Mr. and Mrs. Cadillac with a tight smile. Her chin-length hair was tucked behind her ears, revealing bright spots of rosy red high on her cheeks. A small crowd was gathering—the joy of small-town life. Asher drained his coffee. The Fixer was having one hell of a day. First he’d barked at her in the store, and now this. He started to turn away. Her little parking drama was none of his business, and he had work to do. Then he heard Cadillac Man yelling.

“Did you not see my car sitting right there? That must be a dye job on your hair, ’cuz you’d have to be a blonde to be this stupid...”

His wife tugged at his coat sleeve, cell phone in hand. “Should I call the cops, Herbie?”

Oh, hell, the last thing Deputy Sheriff Dan Adams needed was to get called to Main Street to deal with this nonsense. Before he could stop himself, Asher was outside. He glanced at the bumpers to confirm there wasn’t so much as a scratch on either car. The Fixer had rocked the Caddy just enough to set off the alarm, but not enough to do any damage.

“Okay, folks, let’s all calm down, okay?” He stepped forward and faced the older man, forcing him to look up to meet Asher’s eyes. The considerable difference in their size and age wasn’t lost on the guy. Good. “Sir, there’s no harm done to your car. Your parking job didn’t leave the lady much room to maneuver. Why don’t you just pull out, and then she’ll be able to leave, too?” And Asher could get back inside his quiet shop, away from all these curious faces.

The Fixer was handing her insurance card to the fur-clad wife while babbling at the speed of light.

“I’m terribly sorry, but really, there appears to be no damage, except to my pride, of course.” She forced a laugh, but it fell flat. “Feel free to write down my insurance information, though I’m sure you won’t need...”

The old guy snatched the card from her hand before she could finish, and Asher’s fingers curled into a fist. He didn’t have a lot of patience on a good day, and today was not a good day. He thought about Sheriff Dan and forced himself to relax again as Cadillac Man spoke.

“Your name’s Randall?”