A Temporary Courtship

“See you then.” Stella walked away and then turned back. “You did a great job today, Darren. Thank you.”

Warmth filled him, mixed with shame at spurning her concern this past year. “You’re welcome. Good to see you again, Stel.”

“And you, as well.” She winked and left with her small entourage of elderly friends.

Darren could count on her for good buzz on his class. Maybe this time around, his regional boss would see that he was ready to deal with anyone. Even the Bay Willows crowd.

When he climbed into the van, he blew out his breath. Not bad. His first wild edibles class was done, along with today’s shift. And he hadn’t run into any problems or his ex. All that stressing over nothing. He’d have to face her one of these days, but not today.

Starting the engine, he checked his rearview mirror, caught a glimpse of a pink-and-green-striped bag on one of the seats and groaned. His day wasn’t over yet. He’d have to return that purse to the owner.

He reached back and grabbed it. Hesitating only a moment, he looked inside. Rifling through a woman’s purse was not something he relished, but after digging around lipstick tubes and travel packs of tissues, he found a wallet. As he opened that, a driver’s license with a picture of Stella greeted him.

At least he knew where she lived. He’d been there many times, with and without Raleigh. He used to stop in to fix a thing or two around Stella’s cottage. Who took care of that now? Tony? He doubted that. Tony wasn’t exactly a fix-it kind of guy. He’d call a repair man with the excuse that he had more money than time.

Tony knew all about money. From the world of high finance and investments, his best friend had spoken Raleigh’s language far better than Darren ever had. The sting of their betrayal still lingered. It wasn’t easy to lose his bride and best man in one day—one horrible day that had changed everything.

He pulled into the small driveway of Stella’s cottage with the screened-in porch and looked around. No cars were parked nearby other than Stella’s little black Buick. He stepped onto the porch. Crisp white wicker furniture with brightly colored cushions had been casually arranged. A vase stuffed with tall, fake flowers stood sentinel on the glass-topped side table.

And this was only the porch.

He finally knocked on the door.

“Darren, what a nice surprise.” Stella wore a red-and-white-checkered apron, looking very much like anyone’s grandma, only a lot brighter. She applied more makeup than most. “Come in.”

He lifted her purse. “I’m just dropping this off. You left it in the van.”

“Oh, my. I didn’t even miss it. Don’t get old.” She opened the screen door wide and it squeaked. The thing needed a good dousing of lubricant on the hinges. “Come in for a bit, would you?”

He’d fix the door before he left. Giving Stella a nod he said, “You’re not old.”

“Thanks, but we both know I am.”

He followed Stella into the small summer cottage. She lived alone. Raleigh once said that her husband had died only a couple of years ago.

A lot had happened in those two years. Darren had lost out on his bid for the supervisor position, and then he’d met Stella’s granddaughter. It had been a whirlwind romance, one that Darren reeled from still. Memories sliced through him as he walked past the dining room into Stella’s kitchen. He could almost hear Raleigh’s laughter and the way she’d teased.

It hurt.

“Cookies? I made them this morning.”

Darren sat down with a sigh. “Sure.”

She patted his shoulder. “How are you?”

“I’m okay.” Broken hearts mended with time but never forgot.

“Have you talked to Raleigh?” Stella bustled about the kitchen, stacking cookies on a plate and then pouring him a tall glass of milk.

“Not much to say, is there?”

Stella gave him a long look. “I suppose not.”

The question he didn’t want to ask nagged like a loose tooth until he finally spit it out. “Is she happy?”

Stella nodded. “She appears to be. Tony’s always buying her stuff. His last gift was a diamond ring.”

Darren clenched his jaw. He hadn’t seen them in months. Nineteen months, three weeks and a few days, to be exact.

She stared him down with a fierce gleam in her eyes. “You’re a good man, Darren. Much too good for my granddaughter.”

That surprised him, and he grunted around a mouthful of chocolate chip cookie. Stella’s granddaughter had stormed into his life and changed it. He’d forever be the spurned groom nearly left at the altar when his bride ran away with his best man after rehearsal. They’d taken off for the honeymoon and had the gall to come back and live under Darren’s nose in town. Was it any wonder that people in town looked at him with pity?

He drained his glass and slammed it down on the table. Fortunately, he didn’t break the thing, but the loud thwack startled Stella.

He stood. “I’ll fix that squeak in your screen door.”

Stella smiled up at him. “Do that and I’ll make you dinner. I was thinking chicken marsala with those morels we picked. Stay and eat with me.”

He looked into her eager face. A few more wrinkles creased around Stella’s blue eyes since the last time he’d seen her. For a woman in her early seventies, she was spry. Energetic and a good listener. She’d always been a good listener. Dinner might be a little earlier than he was used to, but food sounded good right now. What harm could there be in staying?

“Okay. I’ll stay, on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“What else needs fixing around here?”

Stella grinned, obviously pleased. “Well, there is a leaky faucet upstairs.”

“Now we’re talking.” Darren knew where the tools were kept and got to work rummaging for what he’d need. Really, he should have stopped in and checked on Stella sooner.

He could hear her humming while she scattered pots and pans in the kitchen. The phone rang. Stella still had a landline.

“Yup, now’s good.” Stella’s voice dropped to a whisper.

He headed up the stairs so he wouldn’t overhear her private conversation. Halfway up, it dawned on him that Stella might be talking to her granddaughter and his gut twisted. Surely, Stella had enough sense not to invite Raleigh over while he was here. He backed down a few steps and strained to listen, but Stella had already hung up the phone.

She was humming again.

Chapter Three (#ulink_13cc8a6d-89eb-5919-9524-efb25bb879d6)

“How was class? Was there a good turnout?” Bree’s mother sat on the couch, her broken ankle propped up on a pillow. She wore a soft cast-style boot and had instructions to keep weight off it as much as possible for the next week.

Bree slipped into a pair of loose loafers to match the khakis she’d changed into. “It was good. Including me, there were ten of us. Stella was there.”

“How is she?”

“Good. I’m heading over there for dinner.”