A Temporary Courtship. Jenna Mindel

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СКАЧАТЬ Seek and eat at our own risk.”

      “Exactly.” He took the signed forms without looking at her.

      “Darren, is that you?”

      His heart pitched when he heard that voice. Of course Raleigh’s grandmother would sign up. She lived here during the open months of April through November when she wasn’t in Florida. “It’s me. How are you, Stel?”

      “I didn’t know you’d be teaching this class. The confirmation letter had a woman’s name on it.” Stella hustled toward him for a big hug.

      He returned it, of course. He’d always liked Raleigh’s grandmother. She’d treated him well and had referred to him as her new favorite grandson. She’d accepted him as-is—the only one of them who’d done so.

      “Teri went out early on maternity leave,” Darren explained.

      “Oh.” Stella’s gaze narrowed. “Bree! I didn’t expect to see you here. Do you two know each other?”

      “We just met.” Bree smiled.

      “Oh, well, good. That’s good.” Stella’s penciled-in eyebrows arched toward her hairline. “How’s your mom?”

      “She needs to stay off her feet for a while, but she’ll be fine.”

      “Fortunate for all of us. Yes, very fortunate.” Stella glanced from him to Bree and then back to him. “Joan broke her ankle playing tennis. Can you imagine?”

      There were worse things broken in life, but Darren didn’t say that. He nodded as he watched more people enter the room. Mostly women, but a couple of men joined them, too. All of them looked well beyond retirement age. Could these people safely tromp around in the woods? He’d find out soon enough.

      * * *

      Bree listened to the DNR guy, Darren, introduce himself and explain the scope of the class. There were ten students, including her. She recognized several but didn’t really know anyone except for Stella. They’d often shared a practice room back in the day when Stella played the violin. Bree had given her a few lessons and had loved their time together. What the woman lacked in skill, she more than made up for in flamboyant kindness.

      Bree spotted the wire mesh basket in Stella’s hands. Everyone else had a container or bag of sorts. The two men each had green net bags like the ones her avocados came in. All her mother had told her was that they’d meet here, go foraging and then come back to the community room for a quick demonstration on cleaning and preparing what they’d found. She hadn’t considered bringing a container.

      But then, that was a logical deduction and Bree wasn’t exactly into logic. She believed people could change, when in reality they couldn’t or wouldn’t. Not to mention, she’d been told a thousand times that her head was too filled with notes and chords to return the milk to the fridge.

      Bree scanned the paper calendar. She looked forward to today’s hunt for black morels. Next week was ramps—whatever those were—and fiddlehead ferns. Her stomach turned at the last one. Memories of an argument over trying something as harmless as fiddlehead ferns rang through her thoughts. She should have ended it with Philip back then.

      She zeroed in on wild asparagus in a class three weeks from now. She’d never realized her favorite vegetable could be found out in the wild. She’d assumed it was grown in gardens, having only purchased it in a grocery store.

      Bree had never had a garden of her own. She wouldn’t have begun to know what to do with one. Hours of daily practice on the cello had been a priority all her life. She’d missed out on a few things. Maybe a lot of things, but she wouldn’t trade her music for anything. Or anyone. She’d realized that almost too late.

      She wouldn’t miss out today. This class promised something different than her usual routine. Right now, Bree craved different. For the first time in a long while, she felt free. Free to do whatever she wanted before following her dreams. A few weeks of relative leisure before the hard work began. Toiling under the tutelage of an orchestral composer for the next two years was a dream come true and one that would require all her focus.

      “If no one has any questions about the paperwork, I’ll collect it now, and then we can head out.”

      Bree snapped out of her thoughtful haze, helped gather up the signed waivers and handed them to Darren. “Here.”

      “Thank you.” He gave her a tight nod, barely looking at her.

      Bree couldn’t help but look at him, though. His fingers were bare of any rings, and he had light brown hair that curled even though he kept it short. Despite the gray-green uniform he wore, she pictured him as a flannel shirt kind of guy. Like the lumberjack on those paper towel commercials. The breadth of Darren’s shoulders hinted that he might not be a stranger to chopping wood.

      Her pulse skittered when he caught her staring. His eyes were blue—bright blue and wary.

      Bree smiled, hoping he understood that she meant no harm. She’d recently broken up with a man who’d nearly robbed her of her dreams. She wasn’t about to risk another relationship that might trap her where she and her music had no place to grow.

      “Let’s load up.” Darren made his way to the door as if he couldn’t get out fast enough. Away from her.

      Bree laughed under her breath. Was she scary? All she’d done was smile. Okay, maybe she’d checked him out thoroughly. But who’d blame her? He was a good-looking guy. Not that she’d do anything about it. She wasn’t even window-shopping.

      But if she were...

      Another laughable thought. Still, Darren Zelinsky made for one very handsome display.

      “Come on, honey. This is going to be fun.” Stella patted her arm.

      Bree had a feeling that might be true, but her curiosity had been piqued. “So, what’s his story?”

      “Darren?” Stella shook her head and whispered, “I’ll tell you later. Come for dinner?”

      Imaginings of a sordid, operatic tale tickled her curiosity. Bree wanted to know more. She leaned close. “I’d love to.”

      Stella wrapped her arm around Bree and squeezed. “You know my door’s always open. Tonight we can cook up what we find.”

      Bree giggled. Something she did little of but always with Stella. “Sounds like a good plan.”

      “My plans are always good ones.” Stella winked and headed out the door.

      Bree dashed back into the kitchen for a couple of plastic storage bags to gather up those morel mushrooms. The last one finally to leave the building, she squinted at the sudden brightness outside. Three in the afternoon on the last Tuesday in April and the weather was perfect. The sun finally shone between puffy white clouds after a couple of days of gray rain.

      Bree noted that everyone had already loaded up and waited for her to get in the van. Her stomach clenched. Did DNR Darren mind that she’d held them up? He didn’t look too pleased.

      The only seat left was the front passenger seat, next to him. She climbed in and glanced his way, but he was busy counting heads.

      When СКАЧАТЬ