Page 136 of Perfectly Matched: Harbor Falls Romance Collection

Rick generally had no trouble falling asleep. Especially when his days were full and busy. He’d run from one thing to another all day long. The trip to Harbor Falls and back, a meeting with a client, and a quick conference with Jack—all with Izzie in tow—were of course, all a bit of a challenge. Always happiest when he was the busiest, though, he’d never had trouble with insomnia.

Until today.

Too many things on his mind and it didn’t matter how many sheep he counted or how many pages of some boring legal document he perused, sleep just would not come.

There was Izzie and some problem at her school.

Then the thing with Marci, who was making noises about moving back to Kentucky, and into his daughter’s life. She wanted to make arrangements to see her more. Not that he ever wanted to deny Marci from seeing Izzie, and vice versa, he simply knew that when Marci left again—and she eventually would—he would be left dealing with the fallout.

And never mind the complications of taking an extended leave of absence from of a lucrative legal practice to try his hand at being a small business owner in Harbor Falls.

Of course, none of those things were keeping him from sleeping. Right?

And forget about corralling any wayward thoughts about Gracie Hart that might keep him awake—but why in the world would she not want to rent to him?

Lying in his bed, a soft, cool breeze blowing over him from the window, Rick welcomed the night calm. Spring had arrived and not only was he thankful for the warm night, but also the soothing quality it gave to the end of his day. The past several hours had been rather hectic. He wished he could just let a calm wash over him totally and lull him to sleep.

With one arm thrown over his head and the other hand holding his copy of the Gracie’s lease, he squinted at the words while he read over the thing one more time by using the dim light of his bedside lamp.

He couldn’t figure out what the woman was up to—unless it was just as simple as it looked. She didn’t want to rent to him.

Period.

She’d jacked up the rent.

She’d made it impossible to do any physical alterations on the shop, including plumbing.

She essentially implicated that Izzie would have to leave her room pink.

She had required an outlandish deposit plus the first and last month’s rent up front.

She was nuts if she thought he would go for this.

Rick dropped the lease and application on his night table with a flutter, punched his pillow once, then twice, rolled over, and closed his eyes. Too much on his plate tomorrow for him not to sleep tonight.

But after a moment his eyes blinked wide open. He had no idea what Gracie Hart was up to but there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it now.

Tomorrow. That’s when he’d take care of it.

Tomorrow he would find out why Ms. Hart did not want to rent to him.

His eyes fluttered closed again and her image danced behind his eyelids as he started to drift off. Thing was, it bugged the hell out of him.

There was some reason Gracie didn’t want him around. Well, after this morning, he supposed he had a good idea why. But he’d thought she liked Izzie. She’d smiled at her and didn’t seem too upset about the cookies and the teapot and she’d even appeared forgiving about the damages.

Maybe he was reading her all wrong.

Maybe he’d just have to prove to her that things could be different.

****

Every Saturday morning, like clockwork, they showed up for coffee and gossip. It had been that way for almost nine years. Constance Greenspoon had shown up first, coffee cup in hand, early one Saturday morning, wanting to know if she could sit a spell in Gracie’s cozy corner and read the morning paper. Gracie had eagerly obliged. Romantically Yours had been in existence for several months, and Gracie was still grieving the move from New York and all that had happened there. She welcomed the older woman with open arms.

Constance, claiming her age as somewhere beyond sixty, was like a breath of fresh air for Gracie. They’d quickly become fast friends. And Gracie needed fast friends at that point in her life. Constance had left that morning with a bottle of bath salts the younger woman had concocted. The next Saturday morning she was back with Mary White in tow, coffee cup in her hand, as well.

Evelyn Walters joined them the next week. Then Patsy Marcum. The next week Gracie’s aunt, Joan Hart joined them.

And on it went.

The names and faces changed from time to time, year to year, but the camaraderie was still the same. Candi Burns had twins in September, and they hadn’t seen much of her of since. They lost Cassie Fields to cancer two years earlier and Sylvia Parker was suffering from Alzheimer’s, but they weathered the storms just as they celebrated the joys.

It was what they were about. Life. Death. Living. Dying. And everything that comes in between. Coffee and gossip and the morning paper. Nothing more, nothing less. Constance often reported that they were worse than old men sitting around talking about old women.

And yes, the subject invariably turned to men, young and old. Short or tall, thin or fat. Straight or gay. Good-looking or not.

Gracie, the youngest of the bunch, kept quiet most of the time and listened, taking in the collective wisdom of the women who had grown to be her friends. There were times she welcomed their advice and their common-sense approach to life’s trials and tribulations. There were other times she really didn’t want to hear what they had to say.

Nevertheless, they’d been there for her when she’d needed a shoulder or two. Or three. Sometimes more.

It was the same most every Saturday morning, week in, week out. Year in, year out. And there was nothing different about this Saturday morning.

Except for the moment when Richard Price decided to grace her doorstep. Again.

The bell over the door chimed a warning at his entrance and Gracie sensed five pair of eyes, in addition to hers, simultaneously look up and follow Richard as he crossed the shop’s threshold and determinedly approached the group.

He stopped directly in front of Gracie, both feet firmly planted into the polished, hardwood floors. She looked up at him, her coffee cup poised halfway between the saucer and her mouth and gulped.

Oh, damn. He’s back.

“I would like to talk with you, Ms. Hart, if you could spare a moment.”

He directed his request to her and landed his gaze square on face.

Gracie swallowed, looked into those eyes, held that connection for about three seconds, and then slowly lifted the cup to her lips and took a sip. Lowering her gaze, she took her time with the sip and the following swallow, and then looked back to Richard.

She was extremely proud of her self-control.

After a moment, she lowered the cup and saucer to the table.

“Of course, Mr. Price.”

She rose, straightening her skirt.

“Right this way.”

Gracie heard the low buzz and chatter of the women behind her. She took two steps toward the cash register, halted, and then glanced back again. Raising one eyebrow, she shot her gaze their way and the babble abruptly stopped. When she turned to face Richard again, it resumed.

She rolled her eyes. Women.

Richard waved some papers in his hand.

“I want to talk to you about this lease.”

Gracie glanced at the papers. “And?”

She wondered what kind of a poker face she possessed. It was hard being dead serious about the ridiculous lease she’d offered him. No one in town downtown rents for that ridiculous amount of money or required such a stiff deposit up front.

“It’s absurd.”

She already knew that.

“I’d like to discuss the terms.”

She figured that, too.

“I’ve done a little research around town and you’re way out of line on the rent.”

“Oh? Is that right?”

He arched a brow and slowly nodded.

“Yes. And I’ve taken the liberty of redoing the lease with my return offer. I’d like for you to look at it, and if it’s acceptable to you as well, I’d like to move some things into the apartment this afternoon.”

Gracie stared at him for several heartbeats, then followed with a chuckle.

“Mr. Price, I think you are attempting to turn the tables on me.”

He raised the other brow.

She continued.

“Since I am the owner of the building, I set the rent and the fees and the restrictions on the property, correct? Is that not customary?”

“Yes, ma’am, it is, however—”

“Then I’m sure you’ll understand when I tell you that the lease, as originally written, stands. Nothing more, nothing less. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

She turned and started back toward the buzz growing louder in the rear of the shop. In an instant, she caught Constance’s eye, noticed the horrified expression on her face, and the “no”

signal she was flashing with her hands.

What in the world?

“Wait.”

Richard Price laid a hand on her forearm. Turning, she forgot Constance for a moment and looked back into those damn sea-blue eyes.

“I don’t understand,”

he told her.

Gracie felt a sudden pang—like she’d done something morally or ethically wrong and the guilt was about to consume her. Richard’s face told a story too and she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear it but was certain she was about to.

“I need this place, Ms. Hart. Please hear me out. I don’t understand why you don’t want to rent to me, but could we please chat about it for a minute or two?”

Gracie swallowed hard and searched Richard’s face. Then for some reason, she glanced back at the women behind her. Smiling, Constance slowly nodded and signaled a thumb’s up. The other four women nodded in unison.

It was a conspiracy. Plain and simple.

“All right,”

she said.

“Let’s talk.”

A commotion erupted behind her then and Gracie turned once more to see all five women stand and gather their coffee cups, newspapers, purses and the like. They were chatting about this and that, nodding and speaking their brief farewells as they passed.

Constance had a huge smile plastered over her face.

The doorbell chimed their departure and Gracie found herself alone in an awkwardly silent shop with Richard.

Well.

“Would you like to sit down?”

She motioned toward the corner the women had just evacuated.

He faltered a second, and then agreed. “Sure.”

Gracie followed him. He chose a Queen Anne wingback. She chose the overstuffed armchair opposite him.

“Coffee? Tea?”

She motioned toward the table between them.

He shook his head.

“No, thank you.”

“Pastry?”

“No.”

“Cook—”

“Ms. Hart, why won’t rent to me?”

“Why Mr. Price, I’ve never said—”

“It’s Izzie, isn’t it?”

That he would think that had never occurred to her. Even though she was sure the child was a handful, Gracie thought her rather precious. No, the reason she didn’t want to rent to him had nothing to do with his daughter. It had everything to do with Richard Price, himself. “No,”

she told him.

“No?”

“No.”

“Ah ha! Well then, if not Izzie, what is it?”

Clearing her throat, Gracie glanced about the shop. Reason. Suddenly her brain was all a jumble. What was the real reason she didn’t want to rent to him? Let’s see, there was one, wasn’t there? Otherwise she wouldn’t have jumped up the rent.

“Well?”

She looked into his eyes again. Oh damn, yes. That was it. Those eyes and the man attached to them.

“Mr. Price, there is no reason not to rent to you. I’ve given you my terms. It’s up to you to accept them or not.”

Gracie rose.

So, did he.

“The terms are ridiculous and unacceptable.”

“But they are my terms.”

“All the more reason to believe that you have some ulterior motive for not wanting to rent to me. Did you get another offer? Is someone else going to rent from you for this exorbitant price? Because if there is…”

“No, Mr. Price. That’s not it.”

He threw his hands into the air.

“Then what is it?”

Gracie turned away and stepped toward the store counter. On the pretense of organizing her cash drawer, she gave herself a few seconds to settle her brain and shape her thoughts. She had to give him a reason. She had a feeling he wouldn’t leave here without one. But what in the world could she say? I don’t want to rent to you because you’re too good looking and you make my heart flutter?

Somehow, she didn’t think that would cut it.

“Well?”

She looked at him. He looked back, waiting.

With a sigh, Gracie said.

“I’ve decided not to rent that side of the building after all. The apartment, either.”

Where that statement came from, she had no clue. It was a weak reason. She knew it and so did he. Thing was, she couldn’t back that up for long. She needed to rent out the whole shebang and soon. There were bills to pay.

He looked defeated and Gracie’s spirits fell a little. His hand holding the lease dropped to his side and he glanced away. For a few seconds she watched his profile. He inhaled, his chest rising and falling, and then he exhaled long and slow. Finally, he turned back to fully face her.

“All right then. I suppose I can accept that. Maybe I can find something else. It was just that this seemed so...perfect.”

He spoke with a resigned hush that caught her totally off guard. Something in his voice, some sort of inflection that echoed something more than just mere disappointment, tugged at her. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Suddenly, she felt sort of queasy and upset with herself.

“Thanks for your time,”

he said then and turned to leave.

“Sorry to interrupt your Saturday morning.”

He set the papers on her counter and started for the door. Gracie watched his back as he moved away from her, his shoulders slumping with every step he took. Without hesitation, he opened the door and stepped out to the street.

An awful, empty feeling suddenly landed with a thud in the hollow place of Gracie’s belly. She didn’t like it.

****

“So, we’re not moving to Harbor Falls?”

Izzie looked up with confused eyes. Rick laid the storybook he’d been reading to her on his lap and gathered the child under his arm. Tucking the covers up around the two of them, he hugged her tight. Darn it. He should have just kept quiet about his plans until everything was set. The child had gone through enough transitions in her life, she didn’t need to endure more than necessary.

Lesson learned, Price. Next time keep it all under your hat until everything is squared away.

“Dad?”

Her eyes were huge with question.

He took in a stabilizing breath.

“No, Iz. I’m sorry to say, it didn’t work out.”

“But I thought that’s why you went back to see Ms. Hart today? To work out the deal?”

“I did.”

“But you didn’t?”

He shook his head.

“No, we didn’t agree on a couple of things.”

“But I liked...my room. I liked her.”

The words stunned him. Studying his daughter’s face, he took in the honest expression in her eyes. Izzie was a lot of things—mischievous, sneaky, and often carried around more than her share of assertiveness—but she was never dishonest with him. She always owned up to things and to his knowledge, she never said things she didn’t mean. For some reason, she had suddenly accepted this move. For another, it seemed she honestly liked Grace Hart.

“Well, yeah, I know. I sort of liked her, too. And I really liked the shop and the apartment and the town. But the fact remains that the place was just too expensive for us and she wasn’t willing to lower the rent.”

“But did you try to talk to her?”

“I did.”

“Did you talk to her real nice and sweet?”

He smiled. He hadn’t, had he? Suddenly, he wondered if that would have worked.

No. It wouldn’t. Grace Hart was all business. He would not have swayed her with sweet-talk. In fact, she probably would have booted him right out on his ear had he tried.

“You didn’t, did you Dad?”

She furrowed her brow, pretending to be mad, but he saw right through her.

Smiling, he shook his head and ruffled her hair.

“Nope, you little Munchkin, I guess I didn’t. Think that would have helped?”

Izzie tilted her chin and tossed him a saucy little grin.

“I bet you didn’t do the eye thing, either, did you?”

This time she had him.

“The eye thing?”

he questioned.

“Yeah.”

She nodded.

“You know, like when you talk to a pretty lady and you do that thing with your eyes.”

Rick guffawed.

“What! What thing do I do with my eyes?”

Obviously, his daughter was a lot more observant than he realized.

“Oh, you know. You do like this.”

Izzie narrowed her eyes a bit, a sort of half-open, half-closed bedroomy eye thing, and arched one brow a little. There was a scant come-hither twinkle in the eye under that arched brow that took him totally by surprise.

Rick laughed aloud.

“Izzie! I don’t do that!”

“Oh yes, you do, Dad.”

“Do not!”

“Do so!”

“Says who?”

“Says me!”

“I don’t think so.”

“The phone!”

Izzie jumped up and scrambled out of the bed the instant the shrill ring of their landline sounded. She was gone in a flash, the eye thing forgotten.

“Izzie! Let it go...”

Too late. He heard his daughter answer with an excited hello. God, how he hated this. Every time the phone rang late at night, she rushed for it, thinking it might be Marci. It rarely was. The California calls were rare for the past couple of years.

Izzie returned to the bedroom with portable phone in hand and a disappointed face.

“For you, Dad.”

He smiled at her and she shrugged, and then handed over the phone. Slowly, she climbed back into bed and cuddled closer into him.

He put the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“Mr. Price?”

“Yes?”

“Grace Hart here.”

He sat up, suddenly more interested in the call. “Yes?”

he repeated. Izzie sat up too, watching him and listening to his every word.

“I’ve been looking over your suggestions for the lease. I was wondering... Perhaps we could talk about them.”

His heart pounded steadily.

“Absolutely.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes, of course.”

“One o’clock?”

“That’s fine.”

“Please bring Isabella.”

He nodded and then felt silly, knowing she couldn’t see the nod. Suddenly, he was glad she couldn’t see him, because he was smiling, very broadly.

“Yes. She’ll come, too.”

“Wonderful.”

“See you at one.”

“I’ll be here.”

The phone clicked. Rick pushed the button to disconnect from his end. For a few seconds, he sat in disbelief of the brief conversation.

“Dad?”

Izzie punched him and he smiled.

“Yes?”

“We going back to Harbor Falls?”

“Yep.”

“Are we happy about it?”

“Yep.”

“Are we moving?”

“I think so.”

“Good.”

Izzie grinned and for some crazy, silly reason, Richard joined her.

“Dad?”

she queried again.

“Umhm?”

“You’re doing that eye thing.”

****

Gracie slowly placed the phone back on the hook and tried to calm the slight quivering in her heart. She still wasn’t quite sure why she’d made that call. Something, she wasn’t sure what, had nagged her the remainder of the day after Richard had left.

In fact, it had nagged her until she’d picked up the lease he’d altered and read it.

He’d offered her a fair deal. The rent was more than she would have asked for in the first place, more than what she’d gotten from the last tenant. He’d offered to clean up both places, do a little repair work, paint and make all alterations to the building and apartment under her guidance. Nothing would he do without consulting her first. He offered a fair deposit up front, a year’s lease, and would pay all utilities and deposits.

What more could she ask? It was a perfect deal. The dream tenant come true.

She’d thought long and hard about it and finally, had concluded that this was a deal she could not pass up. Fluttering or no fluttering. The town could use another cafe, and she was happy one would be located next to her shop. It would do wonders for her business. The two businesses would nicely compliment the other.

The downtown business association would be pleased.

Besides all that, she was ecstatic that she was finally going to have income from the rental again.

That had been too long in coming.

There was nothing to do but take his offer. That’s why she’d made the call.

That was the only reason she had made the call.

It was a business reason, pure and simple.

She would keep that in mind. And she would just have to stand her ground against her fluttering heart and confused, and still ticking biological clock.