Cedar Creek Seasons (25 page)

A chuckle worked its way up Claire’s throat, but she held it in. His brow furrowed. “It’s true. I get to run deliveries for lots of storeowners. Mr. Mueller and …” He continued to speak but that name drove out any sound.
Eli
. Everywhere she went, Eli. She sighed.

“Zake, I do believe I need a bottle of water, since I’ll be the worker bee on duty.” Claire nodded at Melissa. “Go eat and I’ll mind the store.” She fished some ones from her pocket and handed them to the boy.

“Anything else?” He tipped his head. “No shortcake oozing with strawberries and whipped cream? Or chocolate-dipped strawberries? A smoothie?”

Claire gave a half smile. “Water. That’s it for now.” She secured her hair with the headband. “Then we’ll see.”

Zake lifted his hand in a wave and trotted down the lane.

Brad shook his head. “That kid’s going to take your money and disappear.”

“No, he’ll be back.” Claire dusted her hands on her pant leg and settled into the lawn chair. “I’m pretty sure he’ll be back.” If Eli trusted him, she would, too.

Eli resisted the urge to leave the shop and find Claire before George did. A teenage dream. He slid her ring from the small envelope. A bent prong. Simple enough to fix. He lifted it, and a yearning rippled through his fingers. He tossed the ring onto the counter, and it overshot and pinged on the floor. Bending, he retrieved it and swiveled it on his index finger. He remembered fashioning the strands of ivy, placing that sapphire right in the center. He placed it more carefully on the counter and stepped back. The small silver band of promise shone under his lamp.

Fleeting visions of Vietnam exploded in his thoughts. Sounds, smells long buried surfaced. He sank on his stool. Sweat broke out across his brow. He clutched his shirt and flapped it against his chest to cool off.
No regrets, Mueller. None. You did your duty
.

Whirling around, he crossed the small area to the refrigerator. On the door inside was Marie’s bottle of milk. Brought to the shop for him. The plastic wrap on the plate of cookies sparkled.

He’d never seriously considered dating Marie. Why not? He picked up a cookie and the milk, closed the door, and leaned on the fridge. He chewed on the thought as the chocolate chips melted in his mouth. Marie was steady, thoughtful, a woman of strong faith, and widowed. She had no children, so there wouldn’t be objections if he asked her out. He bit his cheek.

She wasn’t Claire.

He sighed and plopped on the stool. Forty years he’d compared every woman he met and dated a few. But they were never Claire.

“Silly of me. Wishing they were her.” He shoved the last bite in his mouth, and a bout of coughing almost strangled him.

Marie appeared at the door. “Are you okay?”

Eli’s watery eyes met hers. “Fine,” he croaked. He took a drink of the milk. “Good cookie.”

She laughed. “You weren’t supposed to inhale them.”

Full lips, crooked on one side, but they weren’t—

“I’m going to finish up shortly and head back to the festival.” He wiped his mouth. “Why don’t you close early and enjoy some kind of strawberry concoction?”

“Might just do that.” She turned then looked over her shoulder. “We could go together.” The longing in her eyes made Eli’s stomach clench.

“Thanks. Need to finish up here. I’m not sure how long I’ll be.”

Marie’s face fell. She stared at him for a moment, disappointment etched across her brow, then reached for the doorknob. “See you tomorrow.” She jerked the door shut. The slam echoed in the small chamber.

“Case closed.” Eli swiveled around and picked up Claire’s ring. “Now to close this one, too.” He rolled the silver band back and forth. Sliding protective glasses across his eyes, he lifted a sliver of silver from the cabinet drawer and tapped it into a leaf shape. He heated it with the soldering iron then doused it in the pickling compound. Once it was clean he used needle-nose pliers and soldered it to the ring. He gently bent the prong then tightened the other four. Rinsing the ring in clear water, he shook it dry then eyed it with the loupe. Satisfied, he used a generous dollop of jewelry cleaner and polished the ring until it sparkled—sapphire, like Claire’s eyes. It looked ready to be completed with—“No, it’s complete just as it is.”

Unless he could see Claire, talk to her. “Maybe she’d meet me at the park.” Eli reached for the brown envelope and flipped it over. A number. “Bet it’s her cell phone.” He traced the first three digits. “Different area code.”

With a nod, he lifted his phone. After three tries, his large fingers tapped in her phone number on the text message screen. He formed a note, deleted it, and tried again. “Surely she’d be willing to talk.”

Zake sat on a box next to Claire, balancing a plate mounded with a slice of strawberry pie. Her mouth watered.

“Told you I should’ve gotten you something to eat.” He spoke around berries, his wide smile coated with whipped cream. “Want me to go back?” He wiped his chin on the shoulder of his T-shirt. Big brown eyes sparkled.

She shook her head. “Not yet.” A chime sounded.

Zake pointed to her purse with his fork. “Sounds like a text.”

Claire frowned. “Text? On my phone?” She seldom used the feature. Melissa had insisted she add it to her monthly phone plan, but she would rather chat with someone than try to type on tiny letters and remember to punch three times if she wanted the letter C.

She rummaged through her purse for the phone, flipped it open, and squinted at the tiny screen. “Who is this?”

“Something wrong?” Zake inched closer.

Claire tipped the cell in his direction.

Zake tapped the screen. “That’s Mr. Mueller’s phone number.”

262-555-9293 WENCH
of
CEDARBIRDGH

She drew in a sharp breath. Wench? What?

GYRE
u
hAIR

“Gyre? Gyre? What? That means spiral. Spiral my hair?” Claire gritted her teeth. A flush crept up her face. Who did this man think he was? Wench? He wanted her hair put up? Maybe in a bun?

“Ohhh.” She spun away from Zake’s gaze. Everywhere she turned she ran into an Eli reminder.
Now
what was he up to? “If he were in front of me—”

“You okay?” Zake touched her elbow.

Claire drew in a ragged breath and clasped the phone against her chest. “I’m fine.” She spit out the words.

“Didn’t mean to bother you.” Zake slunk to the corner. “Guess I’ll go now.”

She held out a hand. “No, you aren’t a bother. You’ve been very helpful.” Her temples throbbed. “Stay a while longer.” His babble of conversation might calm her nerves. Before she did anything rash. Before she went looking for a certain silver-haired man.

Wench, indeed. “Who do you think you are, Mr. Mueller?”

Zake’s eyebrows shot up. “Was the text from Mr. Mueller? Does he need something?”

Definitely a loaded question. She patted the boy’s shoulder. “Not that I know of.” She scanned the words again then studied the keyboard on her flip phone. What letters on a phone would create that weird message?

Zake dumped the Styrofoam plate in the trash, rubbed his hands on his shirt, and grinned. “I’d better check. I’m his number one helper.” He darted from under the canopy. “See you later.”

Claire wiggled her fingers in his direction. “Tell him I sent my regards.” She tossed the phone into her purse and greeted a shopper.

M
r. Mueller?” Zake’s voice rang through the shop. “Mr. Mueller?”

“Hello, Zake. He’s in back.” Marie’s voice carried to Eli.

The boy slipped into his workshop. “Morning, Zake. What brings you here?”

“Thought you might need me.” His mouth slashed a wide white grin.

Eli rubbed his finger across his chin. “Not right now. Looks like you’ve been enjoying some strawberries.” He pointed to Zake’s T-shirt.

Zake glanced at the red stain. “Yep. Ate a bunch.” His brow furrowed. “Don’t tell Mom, though. She’ll get ticked off cuz I ate so much sugary stuff.” He heaved a great sigh, leaned against the workbench, and toyed with a pair of pliers. “Been helping out, too.”

“Good for you, son.” Eli soldered a pin against the backing on a brooch.

Zake bent forward for a closer look. “That’s pretty.”

“Um-hmm.” Eli reached for the pliers.

“I met your friend.”

Eli glanced up. “Friend?”

“That lady.”

“Lady?”

“The one with the white hair.” He chuckled. “You texted her.”

Eli’s breath hitched and he straightened, gazing into the boy’s chocolate-brown eyes. “Claire?”

Zake nodded. “She kinda got mad, so I left and came here.”

“Mad?” Eli frowned. “Why was she mad?”

The boy shuffled his feet and tilted his head. “Dunno.”

Eli touched Zake’s arm. “Tell me what happened, please. Why do you think she’s mad?”

Zake twirled a file on the bench, sending out a grinding noise much like the one Eli heard in his ears as he ground his teeth. “Zake?”

“Well, she said something right after that text, and I thought she was mad, but she said she wasn’t, but then she said your name, grumpy-like.”

Eli placed his hand on the twirling file. “Think I’d better go see her?”

Zake chortled. “Not sure if I’d want to, Mr. Mueller. She didn’t say your name real nice.”

Again? He’d hurt Claire
again
? Eli slumped against the workbench. “You know, son, I think you need to enjoy the festival. Why don’t you come in on Monday and work with me?” He reached out his arm, and Zake stepped into his hug. A sweaty-boy smell filled Eli’s nose, twisting his heart. How he had wanted a son like Zake.

“Okay. See you later.” Zake zipped from the room as quickly as he’d arrived, sucking out the fresh strawberry smell and leaving behind the stench of guilt.

Eli swiveled around and propped his elbows on the bench. “Lord, how do I fix what I don’t even know I messed up this time?”

Face the music
.

As clear as a bell, the words chimed in his heart. It was time to talk with Claire.

Once Melissa and Brad returned, Claire stomped away from the pottery stand. “Wench of—What would make that man call me a wench?” She shoved her hands in her pockets, clasping her handbag tightly against her side. “Who even uses that word anymore?” She frowned at the Silver Line banner overhead. “Surely Eli could’ve updated his vocabulary in the last forty years.”

Weaving her way in and out of groups of tourists and around strollers and bikes, Claire pounded the pavement. She reached the north end of the festival grounds and realized she hadn’t taken in one display or eaten anything. She plopped on a bench and drew in a shaky breath.

“Okay, Claire. You have a choice.” She frowned and slapped her tennis shoes on the cement. “Be mad and let Eli ruin this day, or give it up.” She leaned against the bench and chewed on her lower lip.

A family stopped in front of her. Angry Daddy bent forward and shook a finger in Little Man’s face. “Straighten up and fly right, you hear me?” Tears brimmed over heavy lashes and streaked down the child’s face when he nodded. Daddy gently ruffled the boy’s hair and pulled him against his leg. “Good boy.” Relieved Mom trailed behind the two as they pushed into the crowd.