Home Sweet Home (10 page)

She almost seemed surprised by her smile, by the laughter that bubbled out of her mouth. “You’re so good at acting interested.”

“It’s not an act. I am interested.”

And he was. Anything and everything she said mattered to him. They could have been talking about paper towels, and he had a feeling he’d be sitting here rapt, hanging on her every word.

“Well, beyond inventory and ordering, there’s this whole layer of interaction with their customers. Not just on a business level but on a personal level.” Her eyes warmed. “My mother and grandmother really care about these women, about what they’re going through with their marriages, their kids, if they’re trying to go back to school, or if their husbands are looking for work. And somehow the yarn has a place in all of that.”

“I’ve never knit, but I can see how it would be something to pull people together.” He gestured to the field. “Like football.”

She nodded, her face glowing. Nate wondered, did she have any idea how excited she became from talking about her family’s store?

She licked her lips again. And didn’t she know she needed to stop doing that already before he went and helped her out with it? Because, damn it, it was so damn tempting to just give into the urge to kiss her. He’d wanted to do it from the first moment he’d seen her standing outside the yarn store, had been dying to know if she still tasted the same as she had at eighteen, as sweet as sugar.

And then she was looking at him the way she always used to, her mouth slightly open, her lower lip damp from where she’d licked it, and he couldn’t stop himself from shifting closer and—

One of the kids ran by blowing a whistle, and both he and Andi jumped apart.

“Gotcha, Nate!”

But Nate wasn’t laughing at the too-close save.

He hadn’t come here to try and woo Andi back into his life. He’d come here to remind her of why this small town was so great. So simple and pure. He’d come to make the girl who didn’t want to feel, feel. He’d thought he was smarter than this, that there was no way he was going to allow himself to be swept back up into her.

Suddenly, though, Nate wasn’t sure he had it in him to keep holding out. Which wasn’t a good thing at all, because thanks to his brilliant suggestion earlier, he still owed Andi a night.
One night
that just might break every vow he’d made about staying away from her in the past ten years.

“It’s getting pretty cold out. I’ll take you back home.”

But as she helped him clean up the food and neatly folded the blanket into a perfect square, even as he tried to tell himself that he was glad they’d escaped potential danger, he couldn’t push back the regret at how her previously open expression—when she was talking about her family’s store, when she was waiting for him to kiss her—was completely shut down again.

And he couldn’t deny that being this close to her and yet so far away made him miss her more than he ever had before.

Minutes later, he parked in front of her house and got out to walk her inside.

“You don’t have to walk me to the door.”

“Of course I do.”

Didn’t the guys she dated walk her in at the end of the night?

The thought stopped him cold: one, because this wasn’t a date; two, because just the thought of Andi going on a date with some stranger made him sick to his stomach.

She should have been his.

“Nate.”

My god, he thought, as he looked at her face in the moonlight. She was so beautiful when she smiled like that, a little nervous but so determined to be strong anyway.

“Your night.” She gave him a half smile. “It was a good one. Thank you for sharing it with me. And I wanted to let you know, it would be great if your sister came with us tomorrow night. You’ve already been away from her the past two nights. I need to get my project details ironed out, but I understand that you have a family, Nate.”

Andi was right. He didn’t ever spend this much time away from his sister. But the truth was, he knew Madison liked having her own space from time to time, especially as she was getting older. He had just never been able to give it to her before.

He’d had to hold on extra tight because she was all he had.

“Madison has choir late tomorrow night. My next-door neighbor can stay with her until I get back.”

“In that case, if we leave early, we can get home early so you don’t miss too much time with her. Will five o’clock work?”

She was sweet to think of his sister. So damn sweet it was hard to remember all the reasons why kissing her was such a bad idea.

“It’s perfect.”

“Great. See you tomorrow night.” Her voice was cool, calm, but her hand was shaking as she opened the door and went inside.

He shouldn’t have been glad to see that the girl no one could ever fluster still wasn’t immune to being with him.

But he was.

Andi’s mother was curled up under a blanket on a couch in the living room when she walked in. The lamp beside Carol was still on and there were needles and yarn on her lap. Andi was about to say hello when she realized her mother’s eyes were closed.

When she was a teenager, her mother would wait up for her like this. So many times, Andi had come home from a midnight bonfire to find her mother right there on the couch, knitting, waiting.

Suddenly Andi realized what a comfort that had been. To know that she was coming home to someone who cared about her.

She’d only been home a couple of nights, and yet her mother was right there.

Caring about her.

Wanting her mother to know she was back safely, Andi knelt down in front of her mother and put a hand over hers. “I’m home, Mom.”

Carol’s eyes fluttered open, a smile moving onto her lips when she saw Andi. “Did I fall asleep?”

Andi nodded, then gently said, “You don’t have to wait up for me anymore.”

But her mother just shook her head. “I know you’re all grown up now, honey, but you’ll always be my little girl.”

And that was just how Andi felt, like a little girl who needed her mommy. And when her stomach grumbled and Carol offered, “How about I make you a snack before bed?” Andi decided to let the warmth of being home wrap itself around her like one of her mother’s knitted blankets.

Just for a little while.

D
etermined that her “one night” would be as good as the one Nate had given her, Andi was hard at work on her laptop early the next morning. She pulled up data on tourism in the Adirondack Park, on its residents, their career options, and spending patterns. She made phone calls and set up appointments.

Knowing she should be glad to finally get a productive day in, Andi found that her mind kept wandering. Not just to Nate, but to Lake Yarns, too. This was the first day she hadn’t spent in Lake Yarns, and strangely she kept wondering what was going on in the store.

Saving her file, she decided to drop by the store with coffee, say hello to her mother and grandmother, and then come back and work some more. First, though, there was one call she needed to make.

Her boss picked up on the first ring. “Andrea. How’s life in the backwater?”

She winced at Craig’s words, even though she’d always referred to Emerald Lake like that.

“Good. I’m progressing on the project, but I want to run something by you before I call the Klein Group. A new boat launch is great, and I still think they should do it, but I think there’s something else that will be even better for the town: a new high school football field, lights, stands, locker rooms.”

A very intelligent man—ruthless, some might say, when it came to making money—Craig said, “You’re having trouble convincing the town.”

“Small towns operate differently from the rest of the world. High school football is practically a religion here.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he said, and she could tell he was already moving past their conversation. “Just do whatever you need to do to make it happen. We’re all counting on you here.”

Andi walked into Lake Yarns carrying a tray of hot coffee to find the place packed with kids.

“The fifth graders are paying us a visit today,” her mother said with a smile when she gratefully took a cup from Andi.

“Where’s Grandma?”

“She decided to take it easy again today.”

Worry about her grandmother’s health rose up again. “You should have called me,” Andi told her mother. “She should have called me.”

“You’ve already done so much.”

“You know I haven’t. Tell me where you need me.”

Five minutes later, Andi had a girl on each side of her, correcting their cast ons, laughing as the boys pretended their knitting needles were swords. She hadn’t spent much time with kids, not since her babysitting days. Children had no part in her world in the city.

“I just can’t get it,” one of the girls in the back corner cried, throwing her needles and tangled yarn onto the ground.

Andi was already heading over there when she realized those were Nate’s eyes looking back at her in defiance. This was the little girl with the pigtails and the missing tooth. This was the little baby whose diaper she had changed.

Andi nearly stumbled as she reached for the seat beside Madison and slid into it.

Forcing herself to take a deep breath, Andi said, “I was really frustrated, too, when I started.”

“Knitting is stupid.”

Andi wasn’t about to tell her it wasn’t. Not when she’d spent two decades thinking exactly the same thing.

“Why would anyone waste their time on this kind of stuff?”

Andi shrugged. “I guess they like it.”

“Why?”

Andi settled back into her chair, looked around the store at the laughter, the concentration, the colors, the creativity. “I suppose knitting makes them feel good.”

“Good how?”

When had Madison become interested? Andi suddenly wondered. For that matter, when had she?

Knitting had never been her thing. She was sure of it. But then, up until she was Madison’s age, hadn’t she been there every Monday night, knitting blankets for her dolls or a scarf and mittens for winter?

“It can be fun to use your hands to make something,” Andi said slowly. “It’s not just how soft the yarn is, how pretty the pattern is, it’s the magic of it.”

“Magic?”

Andi startled at that. Had she really just said that knitting was magic?

She thought about the way her grandmother always looked happiest when she was knitting. Her mother, too. Anything that could make someone feel that good had to be magic.

Andi nodded. “Yup.”

“I guess you could show me how to do it,” Madison said grudgingly, even though Andi hadn’t offered.

Hiding her smile, Andi said, “Sure.”

Andi was heading back toward her mother’s house to get ready for her night with Nate when she heard voices coming from her grandmother’s cottage.

She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry when she opened the cottage door. Her great-aunt Celeste was concentrating on the lettering of her
SAVE THE CAROUSEL
sign. Dorothy and Helen from the knitting group were there, too.

“Grandma, what are you doing?”

“Just what it looks like,” she said matter-of-factly. “Getting a jump on our campaign. This is just the start. Everyone in town that we’ve told about the carousel wants to help.”

Andi pushed down the hurt that rose up at the realization that her grandmother had so little faith in her, not to mention the fact that she hated knowing they were on opposite sides of her proposal: first her and Nate, now her and her grandmother—and all of these women.

A sharp pang landed smack-dab in the middle of her chest. It felt like they were all against her.

The insiders versus the girl who had never belonged.

There were so many things she wanted to say to Evelyn, but she made herself stick to her grandmother’s health first.

“You’re supposed to be resting.”

“I’ll rest when we’re done here.”

Fine. Andi would skip right to point two.

“I told you I was going to talk to my client about the carousel, Grandma. You don’t need to do all of this.” Not yet anyway.

“You gave me no guarantees, honey, and I’ve always thought it’s better to take things into one’s own hands.”

And the truth was, Andi couldn’t help but be impressed with how quickly her grandmother and her sister and friends had put everything together. A part of her wanted to jump in and help…but she couldn’t fight this battle for her grandmother. Not when it would mean fighting against herself, her client, and her future with her consulting firm. Not when it would be one more step toward failing—and away from the brass ring she’d always gone for.

“Don’t feel bad,” Dorothy said, finally looking up from her computer where she was doing god knows what. “We know you’re just doing your job.”

Andi bit back a reply. Of course, she didn’t feel bad. This project was going to be great for the town. Totally great.

Realizing she wasn’t going to be able to stop these women—they were clearly relishing their task too much—she decided instead to see if she could get some more background on the carousel, something she could share with her clients that would help them understand why it was so important for Emerald Lake.

“Tell me about the carousel. Tell me what it means to each of you.”

Her great-aunt Celeste looked up with a smile. “Rosie used to love riding on it so much, didn’t she, Evie?”

Andi’s grandmother nodded, smiling at the memory. “Our little sister would always try to stand on top of the horses like she was in the circus.”

“Mother thought it was too dangerous, but Rosie never fell. Not once.”

“Every time I walk by that carousel I think of her,” Celeste said softly.

Andi had never met her great-aunt Rose. She had disappeared a long, long time ago in the 1940s when she was twenty. No one had ever heard from her again.

Andi noticed that Dorothy had stopped typing on her laptop. “What about you, Dorothy?”

“We were very poor when I was little girl.”

Andi was surprised to hear it. Dorothy looked so classy and put together.

“We didn’t have money for any extras, barely had enough to keep ourselves clothed and fed. Remember, Evelyn?”

“You used to wear my old shoes.”

Dorothy snorted. “Old? You’d barely worn them before you told your daddy you needed another pair, and he bought them for you.”

“Did you hate me for it?” Evelyn asked. Everyone in the room stopped and turned to Dorothy, waiting for her answer.

Andi could see them so clearly—two girls in school together, two friends who came from such different backgrounds, who had such different things. For a second, she was reminded of the way she and Catherine had once been.

“Sometimes.”

“I hated you sometimes, too,” Evelyn said, shocking all of them. “You had so much freedom.”

Dorothy smiled. “Well, more than you lot, anyway, with all of your fancy money and expectations. But you were asking about the carousel, weren’t you, Andi? Not the history of two old friends.”

Andi worked to bring herself back to the carousel, but it was hard when she couldn’t stop wondering about what her grandmother had said about freedom. What hadn’t Evelyn felt free to do? Love Carlos instead of the man who had become Andi’s grandfather?

“It was five cents for a ride, but one day a year it was free.”

“The Fall Festival,” Celeste said.

“We would finish our chores early and run over to get in line to ride it over and over.”

“Why was riding on the carousel so great?”

Andi vaguely remembered enjoying carousel rides as a little girl, but she couldn’t imagine that would be a cherished memory in her eighties.

“You have to understand,” her grandmother said, “we didn’t have roller coasters or TV. Just the sand and the sun and the lake. And the carousel.”

“If it was so important to all of you, then why haven’t you tried to fix it up or get it running before?”

Andi’s grandmother looked her right in the eye. “You’re right. We should have done something about the carousel long before now. But sometimes it takes almost losing something to realize just how much it really means to you.”

“I have to confess,” Andi said. “I still don’t completely get it.”

“Maybe that’s because listening to our stories isn’t the same as telling one of your own.”

Andi shook her head, quickly saying, “I don’t have a carousel story.”

But then one came at her, spinning back into her conscious mind as if it were the present, not the past.

She was five years old and her kindergarten day was over. She walked outside onto the playground expecting to see her mother. But—oh my!—her father was there instead.

“Ice cream, Andi. We’re going to get ice cream.”

She was excited, so excited she ran away from Nate and Catherine without saying good-bye. She got a double scoop of rainbow sherbet, but she was so intent on holding her father’s hand that it kept almost falling over in her free hand.

Her father had wanted to sit and eat their ice cream on the carousel. He held her cone while she got on one of the matched pairs of horses, then he climbed onto the other. She’d loved this, just the two of them. The carousel didn’t even run anymore; it hadn’t been running since long before Andi was born. But it was fun to sit on it and pretend with her father. So much fun she could hardly believe it.

He was smiling, a bigger smile than she’d ever seen before.
“Always go for the brass ring, Andi. No matter what the obstacles are, always go for what you want and don’t give up.”

Andi started in her seat. That had always been her father’s mantra for her, but until now, she hadn’t realized that was the first time he’d said it to her.

“Andi, honey, are you all right?”

She looked up at her grandmother. “How old was I when Daddy won his first election?”

Evelyn thought about it for a moment. “You must have been around five.”

Andi worked to keep her expression clear. All these years, she’d thought her father had been so happy because he finally got to spend the day with her.

Now she knew, that was the day he had become senator.

He’d chosen her to celebrate with him. But only that once. After that, he’d been busy in Washington, D.C., always gone when she needed him.

Was this the reason she hadn’t cared about getting rid of the carousel? Not just because it was falling apart, but because instead of associating joy with it, there was pain.

The pain of being left behind.

Uncomfortable with not being able to put everything into a nice, neat little box, Andi turned back to her grandmother with the intention of asking more pointed questions about the actual worth—rather than the unquantifiable emotional worth—of the carousel.

But Evelyn had that faraway look in her eyes…the very expression Andi suspected she herself wore whenever she fell back into her loving memories of Nate.