Starting Over on Blackberry Lane--A Romance Novel Page 15

  You’re a letch, Grant scolded himself and turned his back so he couldn’t see. Considering the last twenty-four hours, it was no wonder he had women on his mind. Weren’t there supposed to be more women than men after a certain age? Where were they?

  “Hey up there, you thirsty?”

  He looked down to where she stood, holding a glass filled with ice and what appeared to be lemonade.

  Yeah, he was thirsty. Hungry, too, for something he had no business taking from a woman who was probably at least fifteen years younger than him.

  Maybe she was older than she looked.

  Right. And maybe pigs really did fly.

  He came down the ladder and took the glass.

  “I feel bad about you having to be up there in the heat,” she said.

  He was in heat down here, too. The sun had put a blush on her cheeks and her skin was glistening with a fine film of sweat from working in the yard. She had a few gray hairs hidden in among the brown ones. Nothing fake about Cass Wilkes. A natural woman. A too-young natural woman.

  “So how’s it going?” she asked.

  “I should have all the old shingles off by the end of the day. Then I’ll get your ice and water barrier and the asphalt felt down and start putting on the new shingles next week. Looks like the weather’s going to hold for us.”

  “I can’t tell you what a relief it is to get this done.”

  “Definitely needed it. You had some serious rotting in your sheath.”

  “Nothing worse than a rotting sheath, I always say.”

  He liked this woman’s sense of humor. “Me, too.” He drank the last of the lemonade and handed her back the glass. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. I’ve got to keep you hydrated. I can’t have my roofer getting sunstroke and falling off. I’m not sure I could catch you.”

  A sudden vision of landing on top of Cass Wilkes invaded his brain. Don’t go there. Get back up on the roof.

  Yeah, the view’s better up there, especially when she bends over.

  Okay, he was out of control. He needed to rein himself in. He hurried up the ladder and got back to work, instructing himself not to look down. Hard to avoid it, though. She’d moved to the edge of the lawn and was bending over, pulling weeds from under a rhododendron bush. That was one well-rounded butt.

  “Hey, Dad!”

  Grant gave a start. Matt’s Jeep was parked out on the street and he was walking across the lawn. When had he pulled up?

  “About time you got here,” Grant called and climbed down the ladder.

  Cass walked over and they all converged at the side of the house.

  “Cass, this is my son Matt. He’s going to be helping me on his days off.”

  “I think we met in Vegas at Dan and Charley’s wedding,” said Cass. “Nice to see you again.”

  Of course. Duh.

  “Same here,” Matt said. “Sorry I’m late,” he told Grant. “My neighbor was having car problems.”

  That was Matt, always ready to give anyone a hand. “That’s okay. There’s still plenty left to do,” Grant said. “I need you to take on some painting tomorrow, but first you can help me get the last of this old roof off.”

  “It’s way past lunchtime. You’re probably getting hungry,” Cass said. “Want a sandwich before you go back up there?”

  No, he wanted to stay away from temptation.

  “That’d be great,” Matt said. “I haven’t eaten since nine.”

  “A lifetime,” Grant joked.

  “Hey, it is when you have a fast metabolism,” Matt shot back.

  “I wouldn’t know about that, darn it all,” Cass quipped, then went inside the house.

  “Come on,” Grant said, walking toward the ladder.

  “But she’s gonna feed us.”

  “You can work while you’re waiting.”

  “I forgot what a slave driver you are,” Matt teased, but followed him back up the ladder.

  “So, you seeing her or something?” he asked once they were up on the roof.

  “No. Why?”

  “Just wondering. The way you two were looking at each other, I thought maybe you had something going.”

  “Nothing going. Not interested.”

  “You seemed pretty interested in her ass when I drove up.”

  “You need to mind your own business,” Grant informed him and he laughed.

  Ten minutes later, Cass had ham sandwiches for them, as well as potato salad, chips and more lemonade.

  “This hits the spot. Thanks,” Matt said. “Good potato salad,” he added, talking around a mouthful.

  “One of my specialties,” she told him. “I like to cook.”

  “Yeah? Me, too. Dad here got me started. Breakfasts on Sundays, right, Dad?”

  “Yep,” Grant said. “We were the waffle kings.” Sunday mornings had been special, unhurried. Family time. On Easter, Lou dragged them all to church and they went out for brunch afterward, but the kids had liked breakfast at home the best. So had he.

  “What do you do now?” Cass asked Matt.

  “Head chef at Salmon Run in Seattle. Someday I want to follow in Charley’s footsteps and have my own place, maybe something with a Northwest-Asian fusion.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll be your first customer.” Cass smiled and he saluted her with his glass.

  “She’s sure nice, Dad,” Matt said after they got back to work.

  “Yeah, she is.”

  “You oughta ask her out.”

  “Have you, by any chance, been talking to your brother?”

  “No.”

  Grant knew when he was lying. “You two need to quit pushing. I’m not in the market for a woman.”

  Last night’s fiasco with Kathy had been strike three. He was out of the game. He’d never find anything like what he’d had with Lou anyway.

  Matt shrugged. “Okay, but this one seems pretty cool.”

  She was, but Grant wasn’t going there, no matter what his libido wanted.

  “Just sayin’, Dad.”

  “Yeah, well, you’ve said enough.”

  Matt dropped the subject, and they worked in silence for another hour. But then Griffin came up the street, dressed for a warm spring day in a pair of shorts and a flowery top, and his assistant suddenly forgot about replacing rotten wood.

  “Who’s that?”

  “One of the women I’m helping.”

  “Please tell me she’s got the house I need to paint.”

  “She does.”

  “Sweet.”

  “She just broke up with her fiancé.”

  “Was he brain-dead or something?”

  “I don’t know the details, but I do know she’s not planning on staying here. And is your divorce final yet?”

  “Almost.”

  “Well, you might want to wait before you go rushing into anything. You’d both be on the rebound.”

  Matt had apparently gone deaf and was already moving toward the ladder.

  If the timing had been different, Griffin and his son would have been perfect for each other, but right now this was just what neither of them needed. Rebound romances never worked. And who was the idiot who’d thought it was a good idea to bring Matt up here?

  “Somebody kick me,” Grant muttered.

  * * *

  Griffin took one look at the man walking toward her and forgot why she’d come over to Cass’s.

  “I’ll go get that book for you,” Cass said with a wink.

  “Book?” What book? “Oh, yes. Thanks.”

  Cass grinned and disappeared inside the house.

  Before she came over, Griffin had been feeling a little lonely, actually missing Steve. This newcomer was
enough to wipe all thoughts of Steve from her hard drive. Unlike her ex, who had gotten sloppy and out of shape, this man was fit and beautiful. He smelled spicy, and his smile... Well, that in itself was enough to turn her all soft and melty.

  “Hi, I’m Matt,” he said. “I’m up here to help my dad.”

  “Mr. Masters is your dad?” They didn’t really look much alike. Same square chin and big eyes, but while his father was dark and swarthy, Matt’s coloring leaned more toward fair, and his hair was light brown.

  “Yeah, I was adopted.”

  She blinked. What to say to that?

  “Just kidding,” he said. “I like to mess with people ’cause I don’t look much like him. I look more like my mom.”

  “Your mom must’ve been beautiful.” Oh, no. Did she say that out loud? Judging from his amused expression, she had. Her face felt instantly sunburned.

  “If we’re gonna talk beautiful, you’ve got the market cornered.”

  Now her face was truly flaming.

  “I could use some help up here,” Grant called.

  “Guess I’d better get back to work,” Matt said. “But I’ll see you tomorrow. Dad’s sending me over to paint your place.”

  “That’ll be great.” On so many levels.

  “What time can I come over?”

  Anytime. “Um, does nine work?”

  “Sure.” He gave her one last smile and then went back to join his dad.

  Griffin stood for a moment, watching him. He sure knew how to make jeans and a T-shirt look sexy. Was he with anyone?

  She hurried into the house, anxious to pump Cass for information. She found her friend in the kitchen, making iced coffee.

  “So, what do you think of Matt?” Cass said casually. “As if I have to ask.”

  “He seems really nice.”

  “Pretty cute, too,” Cass offered. She handed Griffin a glass.

  “Yeah, he is. What do you know about him?”

  “Nothing, other than that he’s Grant’s son. I’m afraid you’ll have to pump him for info yourself. Such a hard job.” Cass winked. “One thing I’d be willing to bet—he’s a step up from your ex.”

  Griffin took the drink and settled at Cass’s kitchen table. “I was thinking about Steve this morning, wondering if I made the right decision.”

  Cass joined her there, her expression serious now. “Are you having doubts, chickadee?”

  Griffin shook her head. “Not really. I think I miss the idea of Steve more than I miss him. Is that terrible?”

  “Not at all. It means you did make the right decision.”

  “Sometimes I feel lonely in that house all by myself.”

  “I get that,” Cass said. “But it won’t go on forever. You’ll be moving soon and making new friends, filling your life with new adventures. And I don’t see you going through life without a man. You want to make sure you’re with the right one, though.”

  Griffin nodded. “Whoever I wind up with, I want it to last. And you know, I really don’t think it would have with Steve. I need more than what we had. And he needs... Well, I’m not sure what he needs.”

  Actually, she did know. He needed a gamer, someone who’d happily get sucked into that other world with him. She preferred the world of words and art and imagination. He loved the one of reflex and visual stimulation. Pictures and loud sound effects versus words and quiet. Side-by-side interaction versus face-to-face. Toward the end, it had become increasingly challenging to make those two worlds meet.

  A gray cat wandered into the kitchen and rubbed against Cass’s legs.

  Here was a new addition. Griffin noticed the divided dish on the floor with water and a few crumbs of cat food. “You got a cat!”

  “Yes, I did.” Cass picked up the kitty and it began to purr. “This is Lady Gray, my new housemate.”

  Griffin reached across the table and petted the cat, who leaned her head into Griffin’s hand. “She’s beautiful.”

  “Yes, she is. And she’s good company. Much easier to deal with than a man,” Cass joked.

  “I think I’d still like to have one, though. A man, I mean.”

  “Of course you would. And you’ll find your match. You’re young and talented and beautiful. Once you get to New York they’ll be lining up. In fact, it looks like the line might be starting in Icicle Falls.”

  She and Matt had been vibing, that was for sure. But vibes alone didn’t mean anything. Way back when she and Steve first got together, there’d been vibes aplenty. She wanted more. She wanted friendship. She wanted... Mr. Darcy, Rhett Butler, Edward from Twilight. No, even more than that, she wanted a best friend, a soul mate. Catherine in Wuthering Heights had said it all. “Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” Sigh. Okay, so theirs hadn’t been the healthiest relationship in literature, but still...

  “Meanwhile, this book might help you,” Cass said, sliding Muriel Sterling’s book across the table. “I know for a fact it helped Bailey sort things out when she came back here, and let me tell you, she had a lot to sort out.”

  Griffin had been planning to buy this book. She picked it up and studied it. New Beginnings, the gold embossed title promised. The cover was simple and elegant—a single red rose stood out against a blurred black-and-white garden.

  “Thank you.” Griffin reached into her shorts pocket for money.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Cass said. “I told you, this is a gift.”

  “That’s really kind of you.”

  “I thought so. Seriously, I hope it makes a difference. One thing I know for sure—I wish I’d had something like it when I was suddenly single. I found my way, but it was hard at first. Life would’ve been easier if I’d had a plan to begin with.”

  “I’m going to start reading it this afternoon.” Griffin polished off her drink. Then she stood up and gave the purring cat in Cass’s arms a final pet. “See you later, Lady Gray.”

  “Happy reading,” Cass said.

  Yes, happy reading, indeed. She was about to carve out a whole new life for herself.

  In a big city, where her mother was sure she’d get mugged.

  Of course, Mom would’ve said the same thing about any city in America. She hadn’t been happy when Griffin and Steve had moved to Seattle. As far as her mother was concerned, there was no place like home.

  Maybe not, but Icicle Falls came close.

  Griffin shaded her eyes and looked up to where Matt and his father were working on the roof. He caught her looking, smiled and waved. “See you tomorrow!”

  Tomorrow, yes. She went back to her house, feeling not quite so lonely. True, it was quiet and seemed too big for only her. But it was also quiet enough to read, listen to music, do whatever she wanted, and that was a good thing.

  She walked past the couch. Nobody sitting there now. The TV was silent. No booms and crashing, yelling avatars. Steve was surely on another couch at this very moment, shooting virtual machine guns and driving virtual tanks.

  Her cell phone pinged with a text from him. Her heart sank. He was still hoping they’d get back together. He needed to move on. She read the text.

  What I said earlier about getting together...

  Oh, no. Poor Steve.

  Never mind. I met someone.

  Guilt and pity turned into irritation. He sure hadn’t waited very long for her to change her mind. What kind of true love was that?

  Already? she texted back. Okay, that was mature. And more than a little selfish.

  Yeah. Guess you were right to break up.

  Guess she was. She told herself that at least she didn’t have to feel guilty over hurting him anymore. Still, she couldn’t help feeling a little...rejected, which wasn’t exactly rational.

  She shook her head in disgust, texted
Steve that she was happy for him, then took her book out onto the back porch and sat down to read.

  The first chapter was titled “Death of a Dream.” That sounded depressing. She had to force herself to read on. The subtitle was better.

  “Death in Winter, Growth in Spring.”

  Okay, that sounded more encouraging.

  A garden is God’s constant reminder to us that we live in a world of change, a world of birth, death and rebirth. What happens to us is often exactly like what happens in our gardens. Winter comes and the garden dies.

  Hopefully she was past the dead-garden stage.

  It’s the same with our lives. We plan for certain things and hope for positive outcomes, dream big dreams, only to see our plans crumble and our dreams die.

  Yikes! That was depressing!

  You may be mourning the death of a dream, but you don’t have to mourn without hope. Like a flower in winter experiencing a period of dormancy, use this time to heal and gather strength for spring, when a new dream will crop up.

  That was better. She kept reading as Muriel gave examples of women who had rebuilt their lives after disappointment. Surprisingly, one of them was Cass.

  When Cass Wilkes came to my town, she was newly divorced with three small children and no idea what the rest of her life would look like.

  Griffin read on as Muriel detailed how Cass had found her way, starting out with little but eventually buying her own business. It was inspiring. So were the other stories Muriel shared. Some of the women, like Dot Morrison, Griffin knew; others she didn’t. All the stories had one thing in common. Each woman had created a vision for her life and gone for it.

  Griffin reached the next chapter. “What Now?”

  “What do you really want?” Muriel asked. “What would most fill you with joy? To move forward, you need to know the answer to these two questions.”

  What did she want? Success?

  Not necessarily. What Griffin wanted went deeper than that. She wanted a meaningful life. She wanted to do something and do it well. Perhaps success was the proof of that?

  One thing she knew for sure—she needed to get out there and really experience life, not always pick what was safe. And if that meant going to New York, then that was what she’d do.