laughed. “I’m smitten with the idea of a mysterious man coming to Fleur and moving into the house I’ve loved all of my life. I’m smitten with the chance to redo those gardens around that house, just the way I’ve dreamed of doing for most of my life. Beyond that, I can see reality. And we both know reality is a lot harder to do than a fairy tale.”
Alma held a hand on Callie’s arm, silent for a minute. Then Brenna walked up and put a hand on her other arm. “We want you to be happy again,” Alma said, her tone low and sure. “That doesn’t mean you have to settle for a man who’s handsome, rich, mysterious and single. Not at all.”
“Yes.” Brenna leaned up and gave Callie a quick kiss. “I mean no. No, not at all.”
Callie smiled at their pointed teasing. “I am happy,” she replied. “I have no complaints. I’m alive. I get a second chance. Life is good.” She gently nudged her sisters away. “Don’t feel sorry for me, and don’t try to force me onto Tomas Delacorte. I’m thankful. So thankful that I’m living and breathing.”
“We are glad for that,” Alma said. “So glad.”
Her sisters stared at her then glanced at each other. While Callie stood there, ashamed that she hadn’t been completely honest with them, and wondered what it would be like to finally be content and happy and in love one more time. She’d survived cancer and was close to her five-year anniversary. She thanked God every day for that.
But she mourned every day for the loss of her marriage. She’d missed a chance to be a mother, to have a family.
Did she deserve a second chance at love?
* * *
Tomas and Nick entered the small town hall that stood across from the First Church of Fleur, both wearing lightweight suits and both carrying cell phones and briefcases.
Brenna squealed and hurried to greet Nick.
While Callie stood and stared at Tomas.
The man sure knew how to wear a suit.
Just another reason she should not be so into him.
She was more of a jeans and cotton shirt kind of girl.
Remembering when he’d been wearing jeans and a cotton shirt the other day, Callie swallowed back her intense interest and said a quick prayer against temptation. She’d managed to avoid him for the past couple of days.
Or maybe he’d decided to avoid her.
Until now.
He was walking straight toward her.
“Punch?” she asked, shoving a cup of the lemony mixture into his hand.
“Thanks.” He smiled, sipped, studied her in a way that put her on alert. “You have freckles.”
“Do I?” She made a big production of rubbing her nose. “Are they gone now?”
His frown almost moved. “No. But they’re even brighter now.”
Callie wanted to turn and walk away but she had manners, so she stayed and smiled. “I’ve had them all my life.”
“They suit you.”
She pushed at her hair and prayed one of her ever-talking sisters would come along and rescue her. But they’d both mysteriously disappeared. “Uh, I had to order some more mulch for the west garden. I’m planting roses there. You do like roses, right?”
He put down the cup of punch. “No roses.”
Callie’s mouth was still hanging open after he’d walked away.
“What?” Alma hurried up, glancing around as if she expected a fire.
“He doesn’t like roses.”
“Oh.” Alma turned toward where a crowd was gathering for the council meeting. “Is that a deal breaker?”
Callie felt so deflated, she had to remember to breathe. “No, but...it is sad. Who doesn’t like roses?”
“They can be overrated,” Alma pointed out. “I love yellow ones, though.”
“But you love irises more.”
Her sister got all dreamy. Probably remembering how Julien had wooed her with blue irises. “That’s true.”
“It’s his wife,” Callie replied, her heart hurting with something she couldn’t quite identify. “She must have had lots of roses. And she’d walk through her garden every afternoon at sunset, and then she got so sick he had to carry her—”
“Ladies?”
Alma and Callie whirled to find Julien standing there. “What?” Alma asked, smiling at her husband.
“It’s about time for the meeting, and I was just wondering if y’all are in charge, or do you want to find a seat?”
“We’re coming,” Alma replied. She poured him a cup of punch. Then she pushed him ahead of them. “C’mon, Callie. We’ll get to the bottom of the rose conspiracy later. Right now, I want to hear what your Mr. Heathcliff is going to say about his real reason for coming to Fleur.”
“So do I,” Callie replied. She followed her sister to where Brenna was sitting with Pretty Mollie and Julien’s brother Pierre. Nick was up front with Tomas, waiting to go before the council. They were first on the agenda. Actually, they were the only item on the agenda tonight. This town council was relaxed and friendly until it came to issues. Then things sometimes got a little heated.
Callie felt that heat each time Tomas glanced back at her. Who didn’t like roses?
He didn’t. She’d have to find some other flowers to plant in that great big bed she’d worked on for two solid days. She’d show Tomas that she could create a pretty flower garden without roses. She had thousands of other choices anyway.
The councilmen and one woman, Mrs. Laborde, all gathered and sat down. The meeting was called to order and while everyone listened to the clerk go over old business, Callie watched the man who was about to address the entire town.
Tomas Delacorte commanded a presence that left her breathless and confused and wondering and worrying.
And she didn’t want to be worried or wondering or out of breath. She didn’t want to feel this way about a man who didn’t like to smile, about a man who stared out the window instead of coming out into the sunshine. What could she do? What was there to do, except her job? She’d do her job and she’d get on with her life and she’d let him do the same. That was for the best.
But when he stood and walked toward the speaker podium, she sat up and took notice. And sighed. Come to think of it, she really didn’t like roses all that much, either.
* * *
Tomas had prepared for this moment for months now. It was never easy buying out a company and bringing in new people to take over, or possibly
