“I understand, Mrs. Hoffman,” Winnie sighed into the phone, trying to conjure up a bit of patience for the woman and her endless story tips. It seemed as though no amount of refusals was enough to dissuade her. She was currently trying to persuade Winnie to pursue a story about cat-carrying backpacks. She’d seen a feature story about the trend on a morning talk show and wondered if anyone in the Bloomsburo area was using them.
“It is a very unique product. I’ll tell you what,” Winnie relented. “I’ll keep a look out for anyone using one around town, and if I find someone, I promise to pursue a follow-up story.”
This contented the woman for the time being, though it would be another five minutes before Winnie could get her off the phone due to a meandering story about the origins of the apple slab pie recipe that she used this morning when baking some treats for the fire station.
Winnie huffed as she finally set down the phone receiver that had grown heavy in her hand. For an octogenarian, Esther Hoffman demonstrated a heck of a lot of tenacity.
And even better, her ramblings kept Winnie’s mind of off Cal, which was no small task. Almost daily, the man seemed to occupy a larger and larger part of her mental space, and given the smallest opportunity, her thoughts drifted happily toward memories of chocolate cake and satiny lips and muscles she didn’t know the anatomical names for, but she could now recognize by touch.
Alas, this afternoon was not about any of those things, so when the call ended, Winnie returned her attention to her cluttered desk, sifting through various Post-it notes and a hastily scribbled to-do list. She needed to lay out a two-page photo spread for the next issue. She needed to follow-up on a phone call with a state representative running for re-election. She needed to edit her story on the tax levy proposal by the school board. She needed to review the city council meeting agenda for Tuesday (since they actually bothered to send her one this time) and follow-up with the city clerk on some information requests that could help her begin to untangle some of the mayoral nonsense.
And she needed to make some progress on that special section about Bloomsburo. God, she’d totally forgotten about her lack of progress on that front. She and Cal’s dinner “meeting” had so quickly dissolved into blatant flirtation that they hadn’t so much uttered the words “Bloomsburo Days.”
Despite Cal’s wicked proposition and his delicious follow through on it over the weekend, Winnie knew she’d soon have to face him in a more professional context. They had work to do together that had nothing to do with their bodies. That is unless he passed her off to Danny the Intern again, but she imagined that they’d worked past that particular situation by now.
But something told her that calling up Cal to talk shop wouldn’t necessarily end in professional productivity either. That was a problem she was going to need to solve, because the special section needed to get put together in the next week despite her interest in interrogating the Chamber director in other ways.
She pulled out her phone and began a text message to Cal.
We need to talk about Bloomsburo Days!!
His response arrived in seconds.
We need to do lots of things, Briggs. Did you do your homework?
The smile that spread across her face was involuntary. This was why she shouldn’t have started with the to-do list item related to him. Though if she were honest with herself, this was exactly why she started with him.
A couple of times.
A+
Lord, this man was trouble.
Cal, I have stuff to get done. I need your help.
I have stuff to do too. Stuff = you.
She rolled her eyes, loving every second of his absurdity. He wrote her more.
Promise to meet me tonight and I’ll answer any questions you email me.
Tonight!?
Yes.
One arrogant word. As if she couldn’t deny his beckoning. And dang it, he was right. She told herself she’d have to wait much longer to reconnect with the man. She’d toyed with the idea of avoiding him until the weekend, which seemed torturously far away from where she sat on Monday.
You’ll send me answers to my questions by the end of the day?
I swear.
If you don’t, I’ll stand you up.
OKAY, now I actually mean it.
You’re bad.
I agree. But isn’t that why you’re writing me?
Touché. The man understood his appeal. She texted again.
Where? When?
He stayed silent for a moment and she wished she could read his thoughts. The She Shed would be off limits for the foreseeable future, given that one of the most important clauses of their agreement was that Rhonda couldn’t catch wind of what they were doing. That would prove tricky if she found her son’s car parked outside of Winnie’s cottage late at night. She also didn’t want to overextend her welcome at his house, no matter how nice of a time they’d had there over the weekend.
Cosgrove Hill. Moonlight hike. 8. I’ll bring the blanket.
Winnie’s heart thrilled at the possibility. An outdoor tryst? That’d be a first for her. She had a feeling that Cal possessed an endless string of tantalizing firsts for her to experience. She had a stronger feeling that she’d like to knock them off her to-do list with as much haste as possible, starting tonight.
It’s a plan. Unless I have to stand you up for bad behavior.
Send the questions already, woman.
And she did just that. With the detailed answers returning a mere twelve minutes after she sent them, his response time was record-breaking.
~-~-~-~-~-~-
Winnie didn’t have much time at home between wrapping up her workday and grabbing a burger and some quick conversation with Evie at Dewey’s, but in the twenty minutes she was there, Rhonda Spencer managed to catch her.
The soft knock on the door made Winnie jump, and her nerves didn’t calm even slightly when she saw her landlady’s sweet face at the door. It was less than comfortable to face the mother of a man whose sex appeal was short-circuiting her brain.
Winnie focused on the woman before her who, once again, held a red wicker basket of food—brownies and banana bread and some homemade jam, by the look of it.
The Spencers were a family of feeders, and Winnie wasn’t mad about it.
“For you!” Rhonda said warmly. Today her strawberry-white curls were twisted in braids that hung down her chest. They fit well with the distressed overalls she wore over a striped boat neck shirt. Her feet, like usual, were bare.
Winnie reached out for the basket and lifted it closer so she could smell the goodies inside. “You’re too kind. This looks amazing!”
“I love to bake, and always end up with more than I could possibly use.”
“Do you want to come in?” Winnie asked, moving aside to make room for Rhonda to enter.
“Just for a minute. I don’t want to bother you if you have plans.”
Must. Not. Think. About. The plans.
“I have a bit of time.”
Rhonda took a seat at the round table she’d furnished in the kitchen, and Winnie joined her.
“The place looks wonderful,” Rhonda said as she quickly surveyed the space.
“Oh, it’s a mess.”
“That’s what’s wonderful about it! It looks lived-in. The mantle looks fantastic. I left that clear on purpose. I figured that whoever came here next would appreciate a few blank canvases around the space.”
“Did you have lots of interest in the rental ad when you first put it up?”
“Heavens, yes,” Rhonda laughed. “Far more than I expected. I didn’t know what I was getting myself into.”
Winnie couldn’t bring herself to ask the next obvious question, but Rhonda answered it anyway.
“You were an easy choice. I probably read twenty responses to the ad before I read yours, and the second it arrived in my inbox, I knew you’d be the one.”
“How?” Winnie asked, unable to help herself. She’d never been “the one” in any context.
“You could spell, you had a lovely voice to your writing, and you said that you were looking for a place to both find yourself and to get lost in. That was it, because that’s what this space had always been to me. Then after we talked on the phone, I knew it was fated.”
Winnie couldn’t help but smile. “So did you just stop by to drop off sweets and lavish me with compliments?” Winnie joked.
“No, I’m afraid I didn’t. Though if they softened you to me a bit, that would only help my cause.”
Winnie’s stomach sank. She had a feeling she was about to be issued another Sunday dinner invitation. Accepting would be more impossible now than ever, given the sudden shift in her relationship with Cal. A sizeable part of her heart ached at the realization that she could have the man, but not his family.
“I have a favor to ask you,” Rhonda said, her brows narrowing slightly in determination.
“What is it?”
“I’m having a special celebration this Friday.”
Butterflies swarmed her stomach. She hated nothing more than saying no to this generous woman, but some things had to be done.
“Before you say no—and you can say no,” Rhonda continued, “let me say that it’s a once-a-year event, so you won’t have to worry about signing up for a weekly commitment for the foreseeable future. Plus some of my other neighbors and friends will be there.”
That made it a little more palatable, even if Cal wouldn’t like it at all.
“What’s the celebration?” she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.
“It’s my annual equinox feast and bonfire.”
Winnie’s eyes widened.
“Mabon is what the Pagans call it. A time to give thanks for bounty and harvest. And this year, you are part of my bounty. You have to be there.”
Winnie sighed. The woman was as flattering and persuasive as her son, despite their very different aims.
“I just don’t know…” she lied. She’d love nothing more than to go. To meet Cal’s sisters and see those cute little fairies once more. To eat as much of Rhonda and Cal’s food as she could possibly manage in one sitting. To revel in the pleasure of joining a big family for a special annual event. Even if she would be an interloper, she wanted to soak up those feelings of togetherness and warmth and affection so that they could sustain her during on the months ahead. Her least favorite time of the year was upon them, with its endless string of family holidays that she’d spend alone, given just how spread out her distant cousins were. Cost made the travel difficult, and if she were honest, she always loathed being the add-on orphan, even if she knew that’s not how her extended family felt about her. Her heart sank at the realization that this year she wouldn’t even have Bree by her side during the holidays.
“Plus, it’ll take over the whole yard.” Rhonda continued her pitch with the dedication of a car salesman. “You really can’t avoid it. The cottage is an intimate part of my outdoor space, and it would just feel wrong to cut you out of it.”
Yes. Yes. Yes. Winnie’s mind whirled. But what would Cal think about her presence there? It was a special family event, and she wouldn’t want to ruin it by her awkward presence. She concluded that her only option was to ask the man himself.
“For now can I say that I’ll think about it?” Winnie asked.
Rhonda reached over and pulled Winnie into a deep hug, squealing in delight. Winnie knew that Rhonda interpreted Winnie’s maybe as a yes. Only time would tell if she’d have to disappoint the woman again.
“Okay. I’ll take that for now.”
“I’ll try to let you know by tomorrow. I do appreciate the invitation. You’ve made me feel so welcome.”
“It’s impossible not to love you, Winnie. I do hope you realize that.”
She gave Winnie’s hand a squeeze and made her way back out the door before she could notice Winnie’s tears welling.