Wanted: The Perfect Mom

Mac smiled and said, “Good morning, Ms. Hoffman.” He tore his gaze from Holly’s bright green eyes and slapped Chris on the back. “Let’s get together while you’re home.” He reached for the door.

Chris’s face lit up. “Why don’t you join the family Monday afternoon at the farm? Thomas is burning burgers.”

“Sounds good, Chris. I look forward to catching up.”

“And bring your mom and your little girl.”

The words were a bucket of ice water on his thoughts of spending time with Holly away from the shop. “Mom is on a bus trip and my, um, Riley is still in North Carolina with her grandparents.”

“Another time, then.” Chris grinned.

Without a backward glance, Mac left the coffee shop and paused on the porch, taking a deep breath of the cool morning air. The tempting aroma of fresh-baked bread reached him and he glanced down the boardwalk toward The Cookie Jar. There had been no more instances of disappearing change or baked goods. Maybe Sue had been confused, after all.

Across the street, Tom Johnson waved as he got out of his car and walked toward the bank. “Beautiful day, Chief,” he said.

Mac nodded and held up his cup in a wordless salute. Tom disappeared into the bank, locking the door behind him. No banker’s hours for Tom, Mac mused as he clattered down the steps to his police car. He didn’t regret coming back here. Bear Meadows was made up of good people, salt of the earth. But he had no social life. Any high school friends had either moved on or were busy with families, as he had once been. He pushed thoughts of his daughter out of his mind. Her grandparents would entertain his daughter over the holiday better than he ever could. He liked talking to Holly, but she scared him. She always had. Mac backed out of the parking space.

He took a swig of coffee and headed toward Shadow Falls for a visit with their police chief. The bank branch had been robbed again the previous day, only this time the culprits, a man and a woman, were caught on a surveillance camera. Seemed like the perfect distraction.

* * *

“WHEN DID YOU get in?” Holly wiped the counter, where a dried glob of chocolate syrup resisted her efforts. Mac’s daughter didn’t live with him. Interesting. He must know as much about childcare as she did.

“Late last night. We’re staying in the Daffodil room.”

Holly paused. “I never took Valerie for the B-and-B type. For a woman you met over a glass of pinot noir at the San Francisco Airport, I’m surprised you convinced her. How does she like sleeping in a room where everything is yellow?”

Chris settled onto the stool at the end of the counter. “The Jacuzzi Dad installed makes up for the over-the-top cheerfulness. And she wanted the baby to be around her grandparents. Harley just started to walk last week.” He leaned on the counter. “You don’t mind my asking Mac to come over, do you? You two weren’t exactly friendly back in the day.”

Holly frowned as the last trace of chocolate disappeared into her cloth. Chris had been home with chicken pox the day Mac had turned Holly into a laughingstock in gym class. He had never mentioned the incident and she doubted any of his friends dared to tell him about it. “He made some comments I wasn’t happy about.”

Chris shrugged. “We were kids. Boys pick on girls. That’s our raison d’être.”

Holly sighed, feigning nonchalance. “In response to your question, no, I don’t mind. The more, the merrier.”

“Good,” he said. “Is your business doing well?”

“Her business is doing as well as can be expected. She’s only been open a month.” Carrying a plate of cookies, Rose came out from the kitchen and kissed her son on the cheek. “Was your room to your liking?”

“Great, Mom,” Chris said.

“Good.” Rose patted him on the shoulder. “Your sister works too hard. She hasn’t done anything fun since she left the military.”

“Well, that was fun. Leaving the military, that is.” Holly shared a smile with her brother.

“You know what I mean. Movies, shopping, going out to dinner.” Her mother opened the pastry case and added cookies to the plates inside.

“How do you know?” Holly paused in her cleaning and eyed her mother. “I have lots of fun.”

Emptying the plate of cookies, her mother straightened and closed the pastry case. “I know you’re either here or in the attic.”

“You make me sound like an eccentric aunt.” Chris looked pointedly at the top of her head. Lifting one hand, Holly discovered Carolyn’s hair clip attached to her short hair. Belatedly she remembered finding the clip in the kitchen and sticking it in her hair while she unloaded the dishwasher. She sighed and changed the subject. “Let me guess. You want a—” she stared up at the ceiling as she analyzed her brother’s espresso preference “—skinny amaretto latte, affogato style.”

Chris pursed his lips and said, “Sounds good.” Their mother filled the containers on the condiment counter. “You know, Mom has a point. All work and no play... What happened to the woman who took spur-of-the-moment vacations in Mexico?”

Holly groaned as she took a mug off the top of the espresso machine. She pulled a container of milk from the fridge. “I’ve had enough trips to last a lifetime.”

“Don’t you miss the traveling?”

“Sometimes.” Holly peered around the machine, eyes flitting from her mother to the temperature gauge on the steaming milk. She moved the wand so the burbling grew louder and she raised her voice. “What would Valerie like, Chris? I’ll make her a drink.”

“She’s a simple woman, Holly. Just make her a double shot skinny vanilla latte. And don’t think I didn’t notice—you’re trying to get rid of me already. But I think I’ll enjoy the ambience of your little coffee shop before I head back. Valerie won’t be up for another hour, at least.”

“Who’s watching the baby?”

“Dad.”

Grinning at Chris calling his stylish wife a “simple woman,” Holly set the cup on the counter. “One skinny amaretto latte, affogato style.” At the same time she wondered how her brother had persuaded her busy father to babysit.

Chris reached for the cup, eyebrows raised. “Nice, sis.” He sipped the frothy drink. “Good job. Thank you.”

Holly flashed her brother a smile and breathed a sigh of relief. Chris had traveled as much as she. His approval was a good sign.

Chris wrapped his fingers around the brown mug and took another sip. “So, Mom, what do you suggest we do to get Holly out of her rut?”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake...” Holly muttered, reaching for the peach tea bags.

“It would be nice if you had a date with some young man but that doesn’t seem to be happening.” Rose sprayed the front of the display case with glass cleaner. Ripping off some paper towels, she attacked the glass.

“Whatever happened to Nick?” Chris asked.

Pouring milk into the pitcher, Holly glanced at her brother. “I told—”

“He was such a nice man,” her mother continued as if Holly hadn’t spoken. “Polite and so handsome in his uniform.” She turned back to the display case and spritzed the other side.

Chris strolled toward the bookshelves, his voice rising as he walked away. “I don’t think he tripped Holly’s trigger, Mom.”

“Hel-lo-o. I’m standing right here.” Holly lifted the milk to the steamer wand and soon the burbling filled the room. Nick. He had looked good in his dress blues. Great build, dark brown hair, brown eyes, flashing white teeth. He could have posed for a recruitment poster. They both could have, which was the root of the problem. Nick wanted a military wife. Too bad she didn’t realize the truth until she had invested four years of her life. Men and their motives.

“Maybe she can go shopping with Valerie while you’re home,” her mom said. “All she wears are air force T-shirts.”

“All I need are air force T-shirts.” The burbling ceased as she pulled the milk pitcher from the wand.

“My point exactly.”

Annoyed at the ongoing discussion of her personal life, Holly ripped open the box and tea bags flew across the counter and landed in the sink. Throwing the destroyed box in the trash, she shot her mother a look. “Mother, stop. I don’t need fun. I don’t need dates. I don’t need clothes. I need to stay in business so Dad can’t walk in here and say ‘I told you so.’”

Her mother stood openmouthed in front of the pastry case, paper towels in one hand and spray bottle in the other. Her brother leaned on the end of the counter, staring into his coffee mug.