like animal feed.”
“It probably is. I eat it plain, but you might find it easier to swallow with some sugar on it.”
“I can swallow just about anything, trust me. I wasn’t raised on caviar. Thanks for sharing.”
“Tell me that again after you’ve tasted it.” Her tone was wry, and as she heard it, she realized she was becoming a little more comfortable with Austin Mendez. Maybe it had to do with the way he talked about those Indians.
“So, no idea how you could help the Tarahumara?” she said.
“Not yet. I don’t mean to make them sound like the quote-unquote noble savage, because they’re not. They fought the Spanish more than once. They fought the French and they fought us. Mining has long since destroyed a lot of their land, about half the original population simply integrated with the rest of society, and the remainder are not above putting on a good show for tourists. It’s just that—well, I spent some time with them. The pressures on them from every direction are enormous and I’d kind of like to think there’s some way to help them hang on to what’s left rather than see them forced to raise opium poppies or run the border. Probably a pipe dream. Change, for good or ill, seems to be unavoidable.”
She put her chin in her hand. “It probably is,” she agreed. “You can’t go back there, can you?”
He paused, then said, “To that part of Mexico? Not anytime soon. I guess part of what gets to me about them is that they make me think of grist caught between the grinding stones of a huge mill, drug cartels on one side, corporations and developers on the other.”
“And you like them.”
His smile was crooked. “Those I met, most definitely. But enough of that. It’s a problem beyond a single man, there’s another country involved, and I haven’t even got a plan yet. Do you have to open your shop today?”
She nodded. “I’m always open for four hours on Sunday afternoon. When you need something for a project, you need it and you don’t want to have to wait another week because you didn’t discover the lack until Saturday night.”
He flashed a smile. “I can understand that. This cereal is pretty good, by the way. Despite what it looks like.”
“Roots and twigs, like I said.”
So, all right, she thought. Maybe having him around wouldn’t be so bad. She just hoped he didn’t feel like being sociable all the time. She spent so much time being sociable at the shop, and while she enjoyed it, she needed her quiet time, too. Of course, she could always retreat to her room with her knitting or embroidery. It wouldn’t be the first time she needed to hide out.
But Austin didn’t linger much longer. He announced he was going to scope out the town, then go shopping. Ten minutes later, he vanished out the front door.
Her peaceful Sunday morning returned. She bent her attention to the paper again but realized she wasn’t seeing much of it.
Instead, she was seeing Austin, hearing his voice as he’d talked about the Indians. She had no idea what kind of work he’d done in Mexico, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. But whatever it had been, it hadn’t hardened him. No, he wanted to help a whole tribe of people.
She couldn’t think of a better recommendation of his character. Or anything that could have made him sexier.
As soon as that thought crossed her mind, she shook it quickly away and went to get dressed. She’d go to the shop early and take care of some busywork. It would be a good distraction, and right now she needed one.
A man had entered her personal space and left her wanting more. She’d think about how stupid that made her later. Right now, she just didn’t want to think about it at all.
* * *
As she was walking to her shop two blocks over, she passed Good Shepherd Church. She hadn’t attended since her grandmother’s death, but before that she’d been in the pews every Sunday. What had changed? She honestly didn’t know, but deep inside she was sure something had. Often enough, someone would invite her to return, and she had pleasant memories of the fellowship there, the potluck dinners, all of it.
It wasn’t as if church had ever been a bad experience for her, but she still had no desire to go back. She glanced at the doors, saw a few stragglers entering and just kept on walking. Evidently, whatever she might feel was lacking in her life wasn’t inside that building.
Not that she really thought anything was lacking. This was the life she had planned out for herself. She’d grow old like her grandmother, running the shop. She hadn’t completely dismissed the idea of a family, but considering her trust issues with men, she didn’t think it was very likely.
Regardless, she enjoyed her work, and that was more than most people could say. To her surprise, an hour before her scheduled opening, Daisy Loden was already waiting for her.
“Bless you!” Daisy cried upon seeing her.
“Me? For what?”
“For coming early. I made a lounging robe for my grandmother, her birthday party is in two hours, and I forgot to buy the buttons!”
Corey laughed and pushed her key into the lock. “I must have felt you calling me.”
“Maybe. I almost went to knock on your door, but I decided that would be rude beyond belief.”
“Next time, knock on my door,” Corey said. “This is an emergency.”
“Well,” said Daisy wryly, “the worst case would have been explaining to Grandma that I still needed to put the buttons on it. I don’t think she’d have been upset.”
Corey knew that Daisy’s grandmother was suffering from Alzheimer’s and could sometimes be unpredictable. She also knew that caring for the woman was a severe strain on Daisy and her sisters at times, so who needed an upset because Daisy gave her grandmother a robe and then had to take it back? It might be okay, then again... “What kind of buttons?”
“Big ones, because her fingers are arthritic. And red because the whole robe is in the brightest colors I could find. She’s always loved bright colors.”
“I hope I have them.” Corey honestly couldn’t remember. Her shop was full of so many buttons and notions that she sometimes forgot exactly what she had.
“I know you do. You have everything.”
Daisy’s exuberance had always delighted Corey. The woman bubbled nearly all the time, and sometimes Corey envied her that. Daisy had her share of problems, but nothing seemed to squash her enjoyment for long.
Daisy hurried to the back to look at buttons while Corey settled behind the counter. There was a box on the floor at her feet that she hadn’t opened yet, and a stack of mail from yesterday, most of which went straight into the trash. The bills she tucked into a drawer behind her.
Moments later she heard Daisy squeal. “Found them. Perfect.”
She came up to the register holding two packets of scarlet buttons, big enough to go on a clown suit. “She’ll be able to manipulate these,” she said as she put them on the counter and started to pull
