Wishing on Willows: A Novel (21 page)

Robin shook her head.

Ian wanted to grab hold of her face and make her stop. “We can figure something out with One Life.”

“I appreciate your offer, but I can’t.”

“You can’t?” What kind of nonsense was this? Of course she could. All she had to do was sell him her deed and he’d ensure she got prime retail space on the first floor of his condominiums.

“I have a petition filled with signatures from people who care about One Life. One of those signatures is mine. I’m not going to sell them out.”

Ian ran his hand through his hair. “Surely if we put our heads together, we can figure out what to do with the ministry.”

“I’m sorry.”

He couldn’t believe it. She was throwing the solution in his face. “You’re sorry?”

“What else do you want me to say?”

“A detailed explanation might be nice. Some insight as to why you just threw an excellent deal away without at least considering it first.”

“What about you? Explain to me why you care so much all of a sudden. Where’s all of this even coming from?”

He stepped closer. “Believe it or not, I’m not in the business of destroying a person’s dreams. Especially not a good one like this.”

Robin hugged her waist tighter, her eyes wide, as if his answer—or maybe his nearness—frightened her. “My dream isn’t running any café. It’s running this one.”

“It will still be this café.”

“No, it wouldn’t.”

“You’re saying no because you’ve grown attached to some walls?” Ian brought his hand to the back of his neck and studied the lighting, the loft overhead, the high windows revealing a mass of gray clouds. “Look, Robin, I understand switching spaces would be a giant hassle. I understand it will make for a busy, slightly hectic season in your life. I understand change is a scary thing, but this is the best I can do. This offer is the only way I can see us both coming out on top.”

She bit her lip.

He stepped closer, catching the scent of cocoa and nutmeg, as if the ingredients Robin used so often had soaked into her skin and hair. “We can come up with a solution for One Life. I know we can.”

Robin looked left, right, up, down. Anywhere but straight ahead. Ian wanted to step into her line of vision and force her to see him. Convince her that this was the only way he could stop hurting her. But her chest rose and fell with an expelled breath and by the time she looked at him, stubbornness had settled in her eyes. “I’m sorry, but my answer is no.”

Ian slammed the door of his car and strode toward the farmhouse, wet gravel crunching beneath black leather shoes. If Robin wouldn’t see reason, maybe her friend would. Maybe Bethany could convince her to stop fighting what would surely become a losing battle.

He stepped onto the porch. The front door swung open and Evan clomped out in his work boots, holding a coffee mug to his mouth in one hand and a small wooden birdhouse in his other. He stopped short and eyed Ian over the top of the mug. “What are you doing here?”

Ian ran his hand down the front of his shirt, thankful he’d dried out since standing in the rain. “I was hoping to speak with Bethany.”

“What do you have to say to my wife?”

“I wanted to talk to her about doing some work for McKay Development and Construction. We’re always looking for talented architects.” And he needed to figure out why Robin was so desperate to hold onto a building.

“You’re a piece of work, you know that?”

Ian’s hackles rose. “Excuse me?”

“There’s something you should know about Bethany. She’s loyal and she loves Robin. They’re closer than most sisters.”

“What does Robin have to do with it?”

“You’re a smart guy, Ian. I don’t appreciate you playing dumb. Especially on my front porch.” Evan took a sip of his coffee. “I let you stay here for the picnic because I wasn’t going to cause a scene in front of my nephew, who, for whatever reason, seems to like you. But don’t mistake my family’s politeness. Our allegiance lies with Robin. We don’t want your condominiums.”

“Amanda doesn’t seem to think they’re a bad idea.”

Evan’s posture didn’t change, but his knuckles whitened over the handle on his mug. “My sister is friendly. And young and impulsive. But she loves Robin like the rest of us. When it comes to choosing sides, don’t think it’ll be yours. The same goes with a lot of people in this town.”

“I’m not trying to turn your wife against Robin, Mr. Price. I’d just like to speak with her, if that’s okay with you.”

Evan studied him for a drawn-out moment, then pushed the front door open with his foot. Beside the couch, Elyse rocked in a swing, reaching her pudgy, dimpled hand toward the rotating mobile overhead. She had a fuzzy bear beside her and a tiny pink sock dangled from her toes. Ian looked away from the perfect picture the baby painted.

Bethany sat cross-legged on the sofa, a pencil tucked behind her ear and a laptop opened in front of her on the coffee table. Evan bent over his wife and whispered something. She eyed Ian through the opened door with one part curiosity and two parts suspicion. “We can talk on the porch,” she said.

Ian wanted to laugh. Would he defile their home by entering it? He swallowed the retort and waited for the couple to step out into the soupy air.

“I’m going to take this over to Amanda.” Evan held up the birdhouse and kissed Bethany full on the lips.

Ian blinked down at the faded welcome mat. His parents were exactly the same, forever reminding him of the mess that had been his own marriage. Bethany ran her hand through her hair and watched Evan go. When he climbed inside his old Bronco and pulled down the gravel drive, she folded her arms. “What can I do for you?”

She had an edge to her. Something professional. Or maybe reserved. She looked more informed, more savvy than the other town folk. As if she’d seen more of the world than the rest of them. “I looked through the portfolio on your website. You’re very talented.”

“Thank you.”

“McKay Corporation is always looking for architects with an innovative vision. We’d love to have you do some work for us.”

She crooked an eyebrow.

“Whatever your husband thinks, this isn’t about choosing sides. You
could be a stranger, no connection whatsoever to Robin and her café, and I’d still make you an offer.”

“But I’m not a stranger, and I am connected to Robin and her café. So my answer is obviously no.”

“Fine, then. What about after this all blows over? Could I contact you then?”

“That depends on how everything plays out.”

“Can I have your business card, at least?”

She stood there, deliberating, then went inside and returned with a small white card.

He tucked it in his back pocket and held out his own. “Here.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Just take it.”

She took the card between her fingers.

“You and Robin seem close.”

“We are.”

“Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

“You just did.”

He smiled. Bethany had spunk. “What is it with Robin and that café? Why is it so important to her?”

“It’s not really my story to tell.”

“Look, Bethany, despite what you and your husband believe, I don’t want to bulldoze Robin’s dreams to the ground. In fact, I tried to make her an offer today that would solve both of our problems, only she refused.” More than refused. She acted as if his offer flat-out scared her. “I’m a little baffled by it.”

“What was your offer?”

“First-floor condo space so she could keep her café.”

Bethany’s face softened.

“I understand her concern about One Life, but could you talk to her? Help her see reason? Otherwise, she’s going to sink right alongside that ministry.” Ian rubbed the back of his neck, a vision of a weeping Robin stuck on repeat in his mind. A familiar feeling of helplessness pressed against
him. He was scrambling to fix things, only he couldn’t do it. He could never do it. “This is the best I can do. It’s this, or nothing.”

“What I say won’t make much of a difference.”

“I think you’re underestimating yourself. She values your opinion.”

“Ian, you’re underestimating what that café means.”

“Tell me what it means, then.”

She scratched her elbow and peeked over her shoulder, toward the living room, where baby Elyse was swinging off into nap-time oblivion. “Willow Tree was a dream they shared.”

“They?”

Bethany looked at him, as if waiting for something to click.

“Oh.”
They
.

“We built that café while she was pregnant with Caleb, right after she lost Micah. We renovated it from the ground up. Ripped out walls, put new ones in. Painted. Reconstructed the staircase. You name it, we did it. The project brought Robin back to life.”

Ian bowed his head. How could he compete with that?

“That building means a lot more to her than brick and wood. It holds four years’ worth of memories, most of which include Caleb.”

He scuffed his shoe against the floorboard. Why did his heart have to twist for a woman he hardly knew?

“These condominiums of yours. Are they really that important?”

The question echoed inside of him. As much as he hated the answer, he couldn’t bat it away. He might have failed in his personal life, but he had yet to fail in his corporate one. These condominiums were Ian’s chance to do something right. He could save the employees of McKay Development and Construction from unemployment. Make Dad proud and prove that he wasn’t a quitter. Ian couldn’t walk away. Not even for a woman he didn’t want to hurt.

The house was quiet. Robin had taken Caleb to the theater to watch a Mickey Mouse throwback playing through next week. Amanda relished the
silence. She loved Caleb, but living with a three-year-old didn’t give her many moments of calm. It was good in a lot of ways. He didn’t give her a chance to pout or sulk, not when there were trains to play with and forts to build and bad guys to fight.

His energy forced her to hurdle the pain Jason left behind, but sometimes she wondered if the hurdling had drawn out the grief. Sometimes she wondered if it wouldn’t have been better to let herself experience it in the beginning—like a Band-Aid torn off quickly. A burst of intense pain that stung and went away. That had to be better than this slow peel of heartache she experienced now. Her rush to forget had left her with a residual sadness she couldn’t quite shake.

Jason’s latest e-mail only made it worse.

She crept into the two-car garage, crawled onto the hood of her Honda, and stood on her tiptoes. Batting away cobwebs, she pulled a fishing pole and a dusty tackle box down from the rafters, brought both inside, and got to work untangling the fishing line—an attempt to distract herself from the computer. She would not open her e-mail. She already reread Jason’s reply at least a dozen times and every time she did, she wanted to smack herself with a pillow. Or something harder.

He wasn’t coming back. As much as she searched for clues, he never alluded to that in his e-mail. He was in Nairobi and he missed her, but not enough to come home and propose and promise her the forever she used to think he’d promise. So what was she doing? She had no desire to spend her life in Africa. He hadn’t even asked her. She tied a small weight on the fishing wire and brought the pole outside.

As a kid, tagging along with four older brothers meant spending a lot of time with a fishing pole in hand. Lately, she craved the mindless activity of casting out a line and waiting for something to bite. Perhaps she should teach Caleb. He’d probably scare away the fish with his dinosaur growls and constant motion, but at least she’d be out of the house. Amanda brought the pole back and cast out into the wet lawn when a familiar Bronco grumbled into the driveway.

Evan parked his car and hopped out. “Catch anything?”

“Nothing’s biting.”

He pulled out a small, cardinal-red birdhouse from the front seat. “I come bearing gifts.”

She reeled in the line and cast out into the yard again. “You finally finished, huh?”

“It only took me two months.” He stopped in front of her and held it up.

She traded—one slightly worn fishing pole for one gorgeous homemade birdhouse—then twirled it around to examine the creation. So far, Robin had let Amanda hang three different ones in various trees throughout the yard. She wondered if she could get away with a fourth. “It’s beautiful, Ev. Thank you.”

“Thank
you
. Not all accountants accept birdhouses as payment. It’s kind of a weird fetish, but I’ll go with it.” He reeled in her line and examined the pole. “It’s been a long time since I went fishing.”

“I was thinking I’d take Caleb to the creek behind your farm.” She set the birdhouse on the front stoop and took back the pole. “What are the chances we’ll catch something other than floating bark?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he scratched at the scruff on his jaw and stared at a squirrel chattering beneath a forsythia bush. Not a good sign. That look was Evan-speak for “I’m about to give you a lecture.”

“Why’d you invite Ian to the picnic?”

And there it was. “Because he’s cute and because I like him.”

“The guy’s a developer.”