The Last in Love (Ardent Springs Book 5) Page 9

  “Hi,” she said, dropping to her knees, as she always did during these visits. “I didn’t bring any flowers today, but I doubt you mind that. You were never big on flowers.”

  Rationally, Abby knew that Kyle didn’t reside in this covered hole in the ground, but she still came here to talk to him. To feel close to him.

  “Speaking of flowers, I’m trying something new and I wanted to tell you about it.” She’d always longed to pick up the phone and tell her husband anything remotely exciting that happened in her life. Most of the time, that hadn’t been possible. At least now she could talk to him whenever she wanted. “I’m taking up landscaping,” she said, and could almost hear Kyle’s deep chuckle in her ear. “I know, right? Not what you’d expect from me.”

  But plants and flowers weren’t why she’d paid this visit.

  “I’ve also met someone,” Abby said. “Though I’ve met him before. I mean, I knew him when I was younger. Much younger,” she murmured, picking a clover from the grass. “He’s all grown up now. We both are. And I think he likes me.”

  Despite sounding like her fifteen-year-old self, she pressed on.

  “I’ve been really lonely since you left. Since before you left, really. We had so many plans, and I didn’t know what to do with myself once those went away. Once you went away.”

  A tear dropped onto the clover.

  “It’s time for a new plan now,” she said, wiping the damp from her cheek. “But I want you to know that no matter what happens in the rest of my life, I’ll never stop thinking about you. Or loving you. Not that you’d ever let me forget you.” His devilish smirk danced before her eyes. “I know you send me signs to let me know that you’re around. They were hard at first, but I’ve gotten used to them.”

  A butterfly landed delicately on the top of his stone, flapping soft wings of muted greens. Just like Kyle’s army fatigues.

  Abby laughed. “Now you’re just showing off.” Sobering, she took another deep breath. “Anyway, I don’t know if anything will happen between me and Justin, but if not him, then I hope that someday I’ll meet another man. Someone strong and caring, who will remind me not to be so serious all the time.” Tilting her head, she touched his name etched deep in the stone. “Someone like you.”

  Feeling lighter, she brushed the leaves from in front of the marker before rising to her feet.

  “One more thing,” she said, crossing her arms. “Mom’s marrying Bruce the first weekend of June, and she’s getting a little Bridezilla on me. I’m probably going to tick her off a bit between now and then, and since she always liked you, I was hoping you might send some good thoughts her way. A little calming effect to help her through this.” Watching another butterfly pass by, Abby smiled. “Maybe send her one of these pretty things now and then. She’s always liked butterflies.”

  Confession over, Abby lingered a few minutes more before retreating back to the car. “Now,” she sighed, “it’s time to move on.”

  “I wish you’d put that away,” Karen Donovan said, casting her eyes toward Justin’s phone.

  He closed his email and shut off the screen. “It goes back in the pocket right now.”

  Unable to resist, Justin had given Q’s email a quick perusal. The lot up for sale screamed retail potential. Directly off the Ardent Springs exit. Prime, level land that had been a pasture for at least a century, which likely meant less rock to break through. Most of middle Tennessee required blasting for any level of development, but every once in a while an exception arrived. And this one had landed in Justin’s lap. Or rather, his email.

  “Something good must have come out of your morning meeting,” Mom observed. “Are you going to tell me about it?”

  “You, dear mother, are looking at the newly hired landscaper for the Ardent Springs downtown beautification project.” Justin stabbed a crouton in his salad. “I’m teaming up with Abigail Williams to create AJ Landscaping, and together we’re going to turn Main Street and the square into a botanical showpiece.”

  Though Thea didn’t know about Abby’s role yet, Justin had no reason to believe she’d object to adding another female perspective to the team. Even a wholly inexperienced one.

  Mom’s fork halted halfway to her mouth. “Did you say Abigail Williams? Your old babysitter, who bought you during that embarrassing auction? Edna and Maggie are still talking about your little performance.”

  Justin shuddered to think what the older women had to say about his amateur striptease and ignored the topic for his own mental health.

  “Yep, that’s her.”

  Fork still lingering, she said, “But Abby’s a nurse. Why would she go into landscaping?”

  “She wants a change,” he explained before stuffing an oversize piece of lettuce into his mouth. If he was lucky, his mother would do the same.

  Instead, she dropped the utensil and leaned back. “I’m confused. How did this come about? Is she quitting her job at the hospital?”

  Despite his reluctance to share too much of Abby’s personal business, Justin saw no way around it.

  “The hospital let her go. She’s looked for other positions in her field but hasn’t found the right fit.” He shared a casual half shrug. “So she’s trying something new.”

  “That just doesn’t sound like something Abby would do. She’s so sensible. A woman doesn’t dedicate a decade to one career only to walk away for something completely different.”

  “Why not?” Justin asked. Karen Donovan had never worked outside the home, at least not since adopting him. The realization dawned that he’d never asked her if she ever wanted to do something else. “Why can’t a person change course whenever they feel like it?”

  The question seemed to leave her speechless. A rare occurrence in Justin’s experience.

  “Haven’t you ever wanted to do something new?” he asked. “Take on a new adventure?”

  Recovering with style, she said, “I doubt anything could top the adventure of raising you.” Fiddling with her salad, she admitted, “There were times over the years when I thought about the possibilities. What it would have been like to be a flight attendant, jetting all over the world. Or a journalist, reporting from a foreign country. But those are silly imaginings. Nothing serious.”

  “They could have been serious,” he pointed out. “You could have done either of those things.”

  “I couldn’t have done them and still raised you,” she replied. “Justin, being a mom is the only real job I ever wanted. When you came to us, my dream came true. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

  Appeased but still curious, he couldn’t help but wonder what she did all day. “What about now?”

  “What about now?” she asked before popping a cherry tomato between her lips.

  “I’ve been gone for ten years. What keeps you busy now?”

  Cheeks reddening, she said, “I do things, Justin. Maybe not the kinds of things your generation thinks are exciting or worthwhile, but I do have reasons to get out of bed in the morning.”

  Great. Now he’d insulted her. “I didn’t mean—”

  “I know what you meant, pal. Eat your salad and stop worrying about your dear old mom.”

  The waitress arrived with their entrees, bringing the conversation to a temporary halt.

  “Thank you, Jeanne,” his mother said. And then as if to prove a point, added, “Will you be at the book club meeting tomorrow night? Bruce has agreed to let us have the store for as long as we want.”

  Jeanne nodded. “I’ll be there. Two chapters to go and I’ll hit The End. But next month I’m picking the book. I’ve cried through half a box of tissues reading this one you chose.”

  The founder of the Sylvester Family Public Library book club beamed. “It’s good, isn’t it? This is my third time through and I cried at the same parts all over again.”

  Why did women enjoy crying? Justin would never understand that.

  As the waitress left them to their meal, he bit into a hot fry. “I see what you di
d there.”

  “What?” she asked, feigning innocence.

  “Like you don’t know.” He loaded his burger with ketchup. “What’s Dad up to today?”

  “It’s air conditioner tune-up season,” she replied. “All the calls are keeping him busy.”

  Ken Donovan had been running his own HVAC business for thirty years now. During Justin’s teen years, there had been mention of him joining the family business, but once he made his college plans known, his parents had accepted the inevitable fact that their son would not spend his life fixing air conditioners in Ardent Springs.

  “I hope he isn’t too busy to take his best girl on a date.” Justin’s parents had maintained Friday night date night since his childhood, which had been the reason he’d needed a regular babysitter all those years ago.

  She waved a bite of fried cod in the air. “That man hasn’t stood me up yet, and he knows he’d never hear the end of it if he did. But speaking of dating, are you going to tell me what happened between you and Victoria?”

  Having danced around this question for the last six weeks, he decided to offer a diluted version of the truth.

  “All right, I’ll tell you.” Justin kept his eyes on his salad. “Victoria found someone else. When I discovered the affair, I ended the engagement.” Even the watered-down version left him feeling like a fool. “It’s fine. I’m over it.”

  “Do me a favor,” his mother said, one dark brow riding high. “Don’t ever take up lying for a living. You’re terrible at it. Now give me that hussy’s number so I can give her a piece of my mind. How dare she cheat on my boy?”

  One more reason he’d kept the facts to himself until now.

  “There will be no calling anyone. I told you. I’m over it.” And though the humiliation still stung, Justin took solace in the fact that his initial anger had never spiraled into abject heartache. “It’s better to see her true colors now than after the I-dos, right?”

  Mom continued to scowl. “I have half a notion to fly up there and shove one of those fancy high heels down her throat.”

  As much as he would pay to see that, Justin chose the higher road. “There will be no assault with a Louboutin. Victoria isn’t worth the jail time.”

  Jeanne returned to fill their drinks, cutting off whatever his mother intended to say next. Gratitude for her perfect timing would be reflected in her tip.

  So his ego had taken a hit. Justin wasn’t the first person to be cheated on, and he wouldn’t be the last. What mattered now was the future, and he already had another girl in his sights. Correction. A woman. A smart, beautiful, caring woman with eyes like polished emeralds and a smile that hit like a sledgehammer.

  All he had to do now was convince said woman that they were perfect for each other. And what better way to do that than over a fresh bed of flowers?

  Chapter 10

  Abby had never visited Firehouse Number Seven before, let alone met a man for dinner there. After leaving the cemetery, she’d made a stop by the library to check out every book she could find on landscaping and gardening. If they were going to be partners, Abby didn’t want Justin to feel as if he were dragging around a dead weight. They couldn’t be equals on the subject overnight, but she’d study for this test as she had every other in her life—with determination and endless pots of coffee.

  When she and her stack of books were back in the car, she sent Justin a text about meeting up to discuss the project. Due to having duty at the firehouse, he’d suggested she meet him there, where he’d make her dinner and they could plot their future flowerpots. Abby couldn’t bring herself to turn down such an inventive invitation.

  Abby hadn’t mustered the courage to tell her mother about the sudden career change. In a moment of convenient rationalization, she’d come to the conclusion that sharing her new endeavor before a full launch would be pointless. What if Justin changed his mind? What if they couldn’t get along? What if she changed her mind? Better to keep her mother in the dark than deal with a full-on argument over what Linda Ridgeway would no doubt consider utterly irresponsible behavior from her only daughter.

  The daughter who never did anything crazy. Or impractical. Until now.

  Due to the fire station facing east, the setting sun cast long shadows along the front of the building. Two identical doors, each bright red with a row of windows across the middle, stood tall before her, split by a solid brick wall. Abby hovered for several seconds, uncertain how to get in. Another historic redbrick building adjoined the firehouse on the right, so she stepped around the left side into a small parking lot in search of an entrance.

  Beneath a dim, flickering bulb she spotted a door near the back corner of the building, and despite feeling like the first victim in the opening scene of a horror flick, she navigated the pothole-ridden asphalt to knock on the door. No response came, and as the shadows grew longer, the hair on the back of Abby’s neck rose.

  She pulled out her phone and fired off a quick text to let him know she was there, and waited several more seconds until the door flew open without warning, causing Abby to scream like a howler monkey.

  The giant silhouette didn’t flinch. Based on size alone, he was likely greeted with fearful cries on a regular basis.

  “I never took you for the screaming type,” Frankie Beckham mumbled, stepping aside for Abby to enter the building. Frankie worked for Cooper at the garage, and though he’d trimmed the beard a bit, the light from the stairwell still made him look menacing. Well, as menacing as any man wearing incredibly thick spectacles could be.

  “I wasn’t expecting the door to fly open like that,” she defended, gathering the remnants of her dignity and stepping past him. “Do I go straight up?” Abby asked from the base of the stairs.

  “Unless you want to hang out with the trucks, yeah.”

  Lips pursed, she took the first step. “You’d suck as a butler, Frankie.”

  “Damn,” he said behind her. “I had that on my bucket list.”

  Abby couldn’t help but laugh. The bearded giant didn’t make jokes very often. Or maybe she hadn’t been around him enough to catch them. Spending time at Cooper’s garage had not been part of her daily routine since he’d first bought the place and the whole family had worked hard to make it shine. That had been four years ago, and the business had become a steady success, due mostly to the fact that Cooper was the best mechanic in town and everyone knew it.

  When she reached the top landing, the room that opened before her felt more like someone’s well-used living room—albeit one from 1987—than anything she expected in a firehouse. A long table surrounded by ten spindle-back chairs occupied the kitchen side of the room, while large, fluffy furniture engulfed the small living area. An ancient tube-model television took up the center of a large built-in that, as far as Abby could tell, held every DVD ever made. She could only assume there were more behind the four closed doors along the bottom.

  “Hey there,” Justin said from the stove. “Spaghetti is almost ready.”

  Frankie stomped to the couch without another word and sank into its cream tweed depths. As Abby stepped into the kitchen, the scent of garlic and oregano filled her senses.

  “That smells amazing.”

  Justin scooped a taste of sauce onto his wooden spoon. “Granny Clara Donovan’s secret recipe. I could tell you, but then I’d have to marry you.”

  Normally Abby would shoot back a safe response, but having a man cook for her was such a novel experience, she took the flirtatious route.

  “Is that a threat or a promise?” Swiping some with her finger, she quickly licked it off, sending flavor explosions across her tongue. “Holy spices, this sauce would totally be worth the sacrifice.”

  Looking offended, Justin frowned. “Are you saying that marrying me would be a sacrifice?”

  “We’d better see if we can work together before discussing a lifetime commitment.” Abby breathed in again and her mouth watered. “Donovan isn’t a very Italian name. Where did your gra
ndmother learn to make sauce like this?”

  Setting the spoon on the table, Justin moved to the fridge and bent to retrieve something inside, offering Abby a prime shot of his prime rump. “Granny Clara started life as a Giovanni,” he explained, offering her a bottle of water. “To her parents’ eternal shame, she ran off with an Irishman who took their feisty signorina to America. Thankfully, not before she learned all the family cooking secrets, which she refused to share with my mom but gleefully passed to me.”

  Abby shook her head. “He cooks. He gardens. He puts out fires. Talk about a most eligible bachelor.” Letting curiosity lead the way, she asked, “How have you not been snapped up before now?”

  Justin’s charming grin faltered. “I came close to getting shackled,” he said, dragging a strainer from an upper cabinet, “but the bride-to-be revealed her true colors in time for me to save myself.”

  Now she was really curious, but his tone revealed more than his words. This was a touchy subject.

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked.

  “Is that an offer to help me forget my conniving ex-fiancée?” He grinned.

  “It’s an offer to set the table.” Abby laughed, not yet willing to pry into his personal life. “Where are the plates?”

  One hand flattened over his heart. “It isn’t nice to get a man’s hopes up like that.”

  Feeling sassy, Abby flipped the hair off her shoulder. “Keep making me dinners like this and you never know what might happen.” While Justin stared slack-jawed, she located dinnerware in the second cabinet over and strolled to the table with the plates.

  “How come you haven’t made this before now?” Frankie asked, loading another serpentine bite of spaghetti onto his fork.

  Justin swallowed his drink of soda. “I save the good stuff for when pretty girls are around.” Which was true. Normally he’d have poured a cheap jar of sauce over a pot of noodles and called it a meal. Tonight he had a woman to impress.