Chapter Eight
The morning after the pizza and popcorn night, Miranda drove into Blue Moon Harbor, the windshield wipers flicking like a metronome against a steady drizzle. She was working today, but going to the village half an hour early. Dreamspinner bookstore opened before Blowing Bubbles, and Iris Yakimura had emailed last night to tell her about a sale on kids’ books.
The radio was on but she paid scant attention to the morning chatter and songs. Her brain kept mulling over Luke’s dinner invitation—the one she’d told him she needed to think about—and replaying memories from last night.
She couldn’t believe he’d come for the evening and never told her it was his birthday. She’d felt blindsided when Caleb mentioned it.
She also couldn’t believe the way she’d opened up to Luke. Her mom and her past were painful subjects, ones she tried to not think about. Ones she’d never shared with anyone except Aaron, who’d lived through all of it, too.
She couldn’t believe that she’d told Luke she was attracted to him. Actually, she had trouble believing she was attracted. His stepbrother, yeah. She’d always had the hots for Julian Blake. He was her type. Luke wasn’t. Except she was changing. Now that she had Ariana, her life had a different focus. She had new priorities, centered around the precious girl behind her who was, at the moment, contentedly babbling in what might have been a conversation with her fairy friends or might have been a commentary on the radio program or the passing scenery.
They were driving past a small farm now, where a couple dozen sheep dotted a green field, their woolly coats making them oblivious to the rain. Near the fence by the road, pale pink blossoms unfurled on an early flowering tree. They didn’t seem discouraged by the rain either. Across the road, on a wooded stretch of property, a deer emerged from the trees. “Deer,” Miranda told her daughter, slowing the car. She was ready to brake if it leaped out on the road, but it simply stood watching as she drove by.
Miranda returned to her musings. Used to be, when she fell for a guy, she kind of gave herself over to him. Oh, not her financial independence or stuff like that; her pride and feminism wouldn’t allow it. But the men who attracted her were so passionate about their pursuits—music, acting, cooking, whatever—that she loved riding the wave of that passion. Being drawn into their new, exciting worlds.
Now it was sinking in that, if she was ever going to be serious about a man again, he would have to fit into her and Ariana’s world. He’d have to love her daughter, be good to her, make time for her.
Luke would do that.
Was that at the root of her attraction to him? The notion that he might be a good father to her little girl? Was she daddy-shopping?
If so, she needed to be sensible about her choice. For once in her life, as Aaron would say. Luke seemed perfect in many ways, but he had baggage. She’d seen shadows cross his face when he thought of Candace. He’d been with one woman, only one woman. His soul mate. How could another woman ever compete with that, much less a flawed one like Miranda? Besides, he had two boys. Looking after one two-year-old girl was a daily challenge. Miranda might be studying to be an early childhood educator, but how could she possibly think she’d be able to be mom to boisterous Brandon and reflective Caleb?
Arriving in town, she parked in the free lot and extracted Ariana from her car seat, pulling up and securing the hood of her daughter’s pink coat. The rain was really coming down now, and it was windy here by the harbor. She struggled against a gust as she raised the big umbrella to shelter the two of them and, hand in hand, they made their way down Driftwood Road, the main street.
As she passed the office of the Destiny Gazette, the door opened and Mr. Newall, the editor, stepped out, opening his own umbrella.
“Good morning,” she greeted him, looking forward to his response.
His thin face serious, he said, “Temperature nine degrees Celsius, two millimeters of rain since midnight, probability of precipitation this morning ninety-five percent. Wind southeast at thirty kilometers per hour, gusting to fifty. Umbrellas are endangered.”
“Thank you,” she said as he strode away, his umbrella raised like a shield in front of a soldier. With anyone else, she’d have told him to have a nice day, but social comments like that didn’t compute in his literal mind.
Grinning at the notion of umbrellas as an endangered species, she tugged Ariana’s hand and they continued on to Dreamspinner. When Miranda had first heard one of Mr. Newall’s weather forecasts, she’d asked Kara if he was a meteorologist. Kara’d said, “No, he’s the editor of the island paper, and has Asperger’s syndrome. He handles the business side and the detail stuff, and his wife and brother handle the people end.”
Destiny Island, Miranda was coming to learn, harbored lots of interesting characters. Iris’s aunt, a fabric artist as well as a bookseller, described the island’s population as a “crazy quilt”: the colors, patterns, and textures shouldn’t have gone together, and yet blended amazingly to create a thing of beauty.
Miranda had also noticed that, though Destiny’s temperate climate did, as with Vancouver, attract a number of transients, homeless people, and addicts, there were more community resources to help them. Here, it was rare to see a homeless person sleeping in a doorway or shooting up in an alley. Of course, Blue Moon Harbor didn’t have many alleys.
Avoiding the coffee shop side of Dreamspinner, where the smells were too enticing for her perennially cash-strapped wallet, she stowed her wet umbrella in a rack by the door of the bookstore side. At this early hour, the coffee shop hummed with business but here in the bookstore, Miranda saw only one customer, deep in conversation with Iris.
As always, Iris was slim and trim, today clad in a tailored, long-sleeved mauve shirt over black pants, with a silk scarf in shades of purple looped around her neck. The scarf, Miranda knew, would be her aunt’s creation, and a work of art. The customer wore an attractive burgundy hijab and a trench coat, and when Miranda saw her face she realized it was Luke’s neighbor, Dr. Shakoor. She wondered if the book in the woman’s hand was on pregnancy.
“Books, Mommy!” Ariana tugged impatiently at her hand.
Iris glanced over and smiled.
Miranda smiled back, and then guided Ariana toward the children’s book section. As they arrived at the back corner of the store where a low table and a few kiddie-sized chairs were surrounded by low bookshelves, Iris caught up with them. “I wondered if you two would be in this morning,” she said.
Two or three years younger than Miranda, she was attractive in a classic, unobtrusive way. She wore no makeup, not even colored lip gloss, yet her beauty shone through in her perfect skin, gorgeous dark brown eyes, and wings of glossy black hair parted in the middle.
Bending down, Iris said, “Miss Ariana. I’m so glad to see you.”
Ariana was no more in the mood for social conventions than Mr. Newall. “Want books!” she demanded.
“A girl with solid priorities,” Iris commented as she rose in a graceful, flowing motion that made Miranda wonder if she did yoga or tai chi. “Here are the books that are on sale.” The bookseller put a few brightly colored board books on the table and got Ariana settled on a chair to browse. “You will be careful with these books,” she said quietly, making it a statement of expectation rather than an order.
“I promise,” Ariana said.
Miranda smiled at Iris. “You have a way with her.” She knew from Eden, who was friends with Iris, that the young woman was single. “Are you planning to have kids?”
“I do hope so,” Iris said softly.
Keeping an eye on her daughter, who was turning the sturdy pages with appropriate respect, she said, “Then I wish you luck. You seem like a sensible woman. You’ll probably do it the right way, with a loving guy to help raise them.”
She gave a wistful smile. “Ah, yes, that’s the dream.”
The dream. There it was again. How many people had that same dream—and for how many did it come true? “Anytime I’ve chased that dream,” Miranda said wryly, “and thought I’d found Mr. Right, he turned out to be a toad.”
“I think you mean Prince Charming, not Mr. Right. And it was a frog, not a toad.”
“What? Oh, right. I remember.” Aaron had read her that story when she was a kid. There was another book to add to the wish list, for when Ariana was a bit older.
The other woman’s expression went serious. “I envy you, Miranda.”
The comment surprised her, because until now Iris, while being efficient and kind, had also been reserved. Venturing a personal comment wasn’t typical of her. Eden said she was shy.
“Seriously?” Miranda said. “What do you envy? My infallible knack for finding frogs?”
“I envy you having the courage to chase the dream, to go after what you want. I could never be so brave.”
“Brave?” Aaron thought she was stupid, the way she flung her heart in the ring. “That’s nice of you to say, Iris.” She studied the woman, so classically lovely with her oval face and long, shiny hair. “I’d guess you haven’t found the right guy yet. When you do, when you truly fall in love, then I bet you’ll find that you’re braver than you think.”
“I’d like to believe that. The romance novels I read give me hope that all things are possible.” And then, as if she’d shared more than she intended, she turned away, hair swinging to hide her face, and knelt by Ariana. “Which book do you like best, little one?”
“This one. This one. This one.” Ariana pointed in turn to three of the half dozen books.
“You can only have one,” Miranda said, hoping the announcement wouldn’t trigger a TTT. “But maybe next time I get paid, we can buy another. Which one is your very favorite?”
Ariana’s bottom lip pooched out as she deliberated, and then she selected one with a birthday cake on the cover. “Cake!”
“Cake it is.” Relieved that her daughter hadn’t kicked up a fuss, Miranda helped her off the chair and picked up the book as Iris put the others back on the shelf.
She owed Luke a birthday cake, Miranda thought as they all walked over to the sales desk. If they kept seeing each other.
He had upped the ante when he’d asked her out for dinner. He’d suggested they find sitters for their kids and go to C-Shell, a seafood restaurant on the harbor. It was moderately expensive and reputed to be excellent, and she’d never eaten there.
If she went out with him, it would be a date. She would be dating Luke Chandler.
She retrieved her umbrella at the door and unfurled it as she and her daughter went outside. Iris Yakimura thought she was brave. Iris thought she went after what she wanted.
The question was, did she want Luke? And, if so, was he a Prince Charming or a frog?
No, not a frog, she was sure of that. And if he did prove to be a Prince Charming, was there any possible way that she was good enough for him?
It was a relief to go into Blowing Bubbles, settle Ariana in the play enclosure with a few toys, and get into the familiar routine. Kara wasn’t working today, and Miranda still got a thrill out of being trusted to run this wonderful store.
A quarter hour after opening, the doorbell jingled, announcing the first customer of the day. Miranda went to greet a petite, attractive woman about her own age, who was putting a dripping umbrella into the basket by the door. She was clad in a puffy purple jacket and jeans, and her black hair was cut in a pixie style that suited her delicate Chinese features. Beside her stood a cute little girl, a bit smaller than Ariana. She looked like a miniature version of her mom, with the same haircut and a similar jacket.
The pair had been in once before when she’d been working, and she thought she remembered their names. “Glory McKenna?” she ventured. “And Gala?”
“Right you are,” the woman said with a smile, pulling off her gloves. She wasn’t wearing a wedding ring and Miranda wondered if she was a single mom, too.
“It’s my day off,” Glory said, “it’s foul weather, and we need a new toy or game to play with. Okay if I put Gala in the playpen while I browse?”
“Of course.” Miranda squatted down and said to the little girl, “Hi, Gala. I’m Miranda.”
The child turned away and buried her face against her mom’s pant leg. But a moment later, she peeped at Miranda.
“You look like you’re close to my daughter’s age,” Miranda said.
“She’s two and a half,” Glory said.
“Just a little younger than Ariana,” Miranda said to the child. “The two of you can have some fun together.” Straightening, she said to Glory, “Fingers crossed. I warn you, Ariana’s prone to tantrums.”
“So’s Gala,” the other woman said cheerfully. “Let’s hope they don’t set each other off.” She led her daughter over to the play enclosure and unlatched the gate. “Hi, Ariana,” she said to Miranda’s child, who was watching closely.
Miranda joined them and said, “Sweetie, this is Gala and she’s going to hang out with you for a while.”
Glory nudged her daughter so that she took a couple of steps into the pen. There were a few stuffed animals lying around and Gala glanced at them and then at Ariana, frowning.
Ariana stared at her a moment, and then held up her cloth doll. “I has fairy!”
It was more of a boast than an offer to share. Fortunately, Gala didn’t reach for the doll. Instead, she picked up a stuffed puppy. “I has doggy!”
A minute later, the two of them were settled on the mat floor, playing separately with the fairy and the dog, chattering happily though maybe not to each other.
“That went well,” Miranda said. “Now, Glory, let’s see what we can find to give you two a fun day inside.”
As they considered options, she asked her customer, “Where do you work?” By now, she’d been into most of Blue Moon Harbor’s businesses and hadn’t seen the brunette with her pixie haircut at any of them.
“Arbutus Lodge, the seniors’ residential facility.”
“Really? My brother’s fiancée, Eden Blaine, works there.”
“Eden? So you’re Aaron’s sister?” She cocked her head. “Were we in school together? Aaron and I were in the same class, but I don’t remember you.”
“I was two grades back. I don’t remember you either.”
“I had really long hair then, and Coke-bottle glasses. Hurray for laser eye surgery.”
Miranda shrugged, still not remembering. She didn’t want to admit to being Goth girl, but in this tiny community someone was bound to mention it to Glory, so she bit the bullet. “I was the one with dyed black hair, Goth clothing, and lots of piercings.”
Glory tilted her head. “Seriously? That’s so not you.”
“Thank you for that. I guess it was back then, though.”
“Teens go through phases, right?”
Happy that the other woman had dismissed Miranda’s questionable past so easily, she agreed, “That’s for sure. So, anyhow, you know Eden?”
“Of course. She’s new, but she seems terrific.”
“She is. And she loves her job. How about you? Do you enjoy working with seniors?”
“I do. I’m very close to my grandparents.”
“Must be nice,” Miranda said dryly.
Glory either ignored or saw beneath her flippancy, giving a gentle smile and continuing. “My parents adopted me from a Chinese orphanage after I was abandoned as a newborn. They and both sets of their parents made me feel so wanted and loved.” Another smile. “I had been given a Chinese name and Glory is one of the translations for it. My adoptive family chose it because they said they gloried in being lucky enough to find me.”
“Wow.” It was awful that Glory’s birth parents had abandoned her, but how nice to have parents and grandparents who loved you and enjoyed being with you.
“I try to forget I wasn’t born in Canada, and usually succeed. Listening to my grandparents’ stories makes me feel like my roots are here.” She shrugged. “Anyhow, my relationship with my grandparents gave me the idea of working with seniors. I’m not a nurse or anything, but I handle the reception desk and I spend a lot of time talking to the residents. They’re such amazing people, with so much experience and such interesting opinions.”
Though Miranda hadn’t had the same kind of grandparents as Glory, the other woman’s comment did resonate. “That reminds me of our neighbor in Vancouver. She babysat Ariana, and we’d often share a cup of chai and talk. She’d come from India as a teenager, in an arranged marriage to a man she’d never met. Can you imagine all the things she went through? But they ended up loving each other and raising four kids, though sadly he died a few years ago. She’s very close to her kids and grandkids, though.” Miranda kept in touch with Mrs. Sharma, the two of them exchanging news and photos of the children in their lives.
“Grandchildren who love her stories, I hope.” Glory glanced over at the play enclosure. “The kids still seem happy but I’d better not push my luck. I think I’ll go with Monster Bowling. Glory and I can both work out our frustrations.”
“Great.” Miranda wondered if that was just a figure of speech, or if this petite woman had frustrations of her own. As she rang up the purchase, Miranda remembered something. “By the way, Dreamspinner has a sale on kids’ books. You might want to check them out.”
“Thanks for the tip, Miranda. I’ll do that. While Gala’s still in a non-tantrum mood.”
The two moms walked over to the play enclosure, where now the fairy doll was riding the stuffed puppy, with noisy encouragement from both children. “The girls get along well,” Miranda commented.
“Gala goes to daycare on the days that her dad and I are both working, but I’ve never seen her hit it off so well with another child.”
So the lack of a ring didn’t mean there wasn’t a man in the picture. Lucky Glory, to be parenting with a partner.
“Hey,” Glory said, “why don’t the two of you come over for a playdate? Just us girls.”
“Oh, that’s really nice of you, but I’m . . .” Wait. Yes, she was busy with her studies, but it would be good for Ariana to have a playmate. And nice for Miranda, too, to have some girlfriend-type company. Even though Eden and her younger sister, Kelsey, were great, they weren’t exactly girlfriends.
“I make amazing biscotti,” Glory said. “We can indulge and get to know each other while the little ones do their thing.”
“That sounds tempting,” Miranda admitted. “Yes, let’s do it.”
“Perfect. The next time we both have a day off.”
After Glory and Gala left the store, Miranda went over to pick up her daughter. “You know what this means, sweetie? It seems we’re actually kind of starting to build a life here. I was so sure we’d go back to Vancouver, but now . . .” She held her daughter up in front of her so she could peer into her cute little face. Putting on a serious tone, she asked, “What’s your considered opinion on the merits of Blue Moon Harbor versus Vancouver?”
Her daughter considered her with apparent seriousness and then broke into a smile. “Luke!”
Miranda laughed softly. “Yes, that’s an excellent point. Okay, I’m going to call and say I’ll go out for dinner with him. It’ll give me a chance to wear one of my Vancouver outfits that’s been sitting in the closet gathering dust.”