The Other Woman. Brenda Novak

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      He gazed down the ribbon of street that split the small town in half. Would it have made a difference if he’d brought Laurel to a place such as this?

      The question crept unbidden into his consciousness but, with some effort, he shoved it out of his mind. Second-guessing wouldn’t help. There was nothing more he could have done. And now he had no choice except to square his shoulders and face each new day as it came.

      He shifted his attention to the newspaper and, slowly, the ache subsided. He found no stories of rape or murder. No missing persons. Nothing violent or ugly. The headline read Crab Feed Raises $10,000 for Schools. He couldn’t call the accompanying article riveting, but it was comforting to know that a crab feed could still be front-page news.

      Laurel would’ve liked that….

      Annoyed with himself, he made another attempt to control his thoughts by moving to the article directly below the one he’d already read.

      City Council Bucks Rodeo Improvements

      Is it time to improve the rodeo grounds? According to Councilwoman Foley, it is. But with Mayor Wells out of town, the council voted 3–2 last week against appropriating the necessary funds. Fortunately, the opportunity to make your opinion heard hasn’t been lost. The mayor is back and calling for another vote. If you’d like to see…

      The beep of a horn brought up Carter’s head. Liz had arrived. At last.

      Tucking the paper under his arm, he stood and waited for her to park.

      Her keys rattled as she slipped them into her pocket and hurried over. Dressed in a red T-shirt, blue denim shorts, tennis shoes and a gray zip-up sweatshirt to ward off the morning chill, she’d pulled her long blond hair into a ponytail. She hadn’t bothered with makeup, but then she didn’t need any. Large hazel eyes watched him from above a narrow, well-defined nose and high cheekbones. As much as he hated to acknowledge it, she possessed a delicate sort of beauty. Like Laurel’s. But her mouth was all her own. Too expressive for a woman who looked so reserved and sophisticated, it added an accessible human touch to a face that, without it, might have almost appeared too perfect—more like white marble than flesh and bone.

      “Have you been waiting long?” she asked as she approached him.

      He sent her a pointed glance. “Since six.”

      “Right. You were on time. Of course.” She cleared her throat and shifted a roll of blueprints from one arm to the other. “Sorry about that. I had trouble rousing Keith’s mother. She’d forgotten she agreed to get the kids off to school for me.”

      “No problem.” Trailing her to the shop, he waited as she unlocked the door. Then he followed her inside to find the gutted remains of a retail establishment, which he knew from the conversation the night before, had previously been a barbershop. He eyed the well-worn floor, the freshly patched wall, the wheelbarrow in the corner. A door at the back led to what appeared to be another room. “Storage?” he asked, waving toward it.

      “It used to be a small apartment, which the previous owner leased out. When we’re done it’ll be my kitchen and pantry.”

      He rubbed his chin. “So we’re starting from scratch.”

      “Basically.”

      “What’s the goal here? With the improvements, I mean?”

      She unrolled her plans on the lone display case and let Carter take a look. “Have you ever seen the movie Chocolat?”

      “Never heard of it.”

      She stared at him. “It was nominated for several Academy Awards, including best picture.”

      He was busy already noting what would have to be done, trying to estimate how long the work might take him. “When?”

      “I don’t know exactly. Several years ago.”

      The biggest part of the job would be the kitchen. The showroom needed little more than flooring and paint and the placement of some additional display cases and shelving. “Does this movie have any karate fights?”

      “No.”

      He glanced up at her. “Explosions?”

      She scowled. “It’s not that kind of movie.”

      “Then I probably didn’t waste my money on it,” he said, a shrug in his voice.

      He was teasing, but if she understood that she didn’t crack a smile. “Your loss,” she said, sounding slightly offended. “It’s fabulous. Almost as good as the book.”

      Having studied the plans, Carter crossed the floor to make sure Keith’s patched wall was dry enough to paint. “I’m guessing there’s a tie-in?”

      She put down her purse on top of the plans, to keep the paper from rolling back into a scroll. “There is. I’m trying to re-create the atmosphere of the shop in that movie.”

      “Which was a choco-later-ie?”

      “That was a poor attempt even for a Yankee,” she said, making a face. “It’s pronounced chocolaterie. The movie is set in a provincial French town.”

      He’d slaughtered the word on purpose, but he didn’t bother to point that out. “Just like this small western one, huh?”

      At last she seemed to realize he was baiting her. Her mouth twitched as if she might smile, but she frowned instead. “I can only do so much. Anyway, Vianne, who owns the chocolate shop in the movie, has traveled widely and brings a bit of her mother’s Mayan heritage along with her. I want to decorate this shop the same way.”

      “I’m not familiar with Mayan decor,” he said, facing her.

      “Think decadent and sensually appealing, with a South American flavor.”

      Carter hadn’t found anything sensually appealing in a long time, regardless of the “flavor,” but he pretended otherwise. “It’s starting to sound good.”

      Too caught up in her vision to be interrupted, she ignored him. “You see, Vianne is serving more than chocolate to the locals—”

      “And now it’s getting even better.”

      She spread her hands in exasperation. “Would you quit?”

      Satisfied he’d already made himself look like enough of an ass, he became more serious. “Okay, so what’s she serving?”

      “Love, acceptance, change—a rebirth. I find the whole concept incredibly…uplifting.”

      As much as he’d decided he wouldn’t let himself like Liz—nor let her like him—he couldn’t poke fun at that. Her sincere words seemed to echo around the hollow space inside him, making him crave those very things.

      “Are you actually making the chocolate?”

      “No, Vianne crushed cocoa beans and made her own chocolate. But there’s no need for me to do the same. Generally, only really large companies СКАЧАТЬ