Page 19 of The Calendar of New Beginnings (Dare Valley #9)

CHAPTER TEN

L ucy’s first class had rejuvenated her faith in the next generation.

The celebratory beverage she had with her father at Hairy’s afterward made her spirits soar even higher.

He shouted a toast across the bar, making all happy-hour-goers turn to look at them.

“To my amazing kid, Lucy,” he said, hoisting his Guinness in the air.

“And to all the young minds she’s going to mold. ”

She wasn’t so sure about the mold part. It sounded too much like the green, stinky fungus.

She preferred the image of being a lighthouse for young minds.

But her dad was sweet, so she drank her pint with him and then had some heavenly fish and chips for the second time in a week.

Her mother had wanted to bring her a meal to commemorate her first day of class, but Lucy had decided to draw some boundaries.

While she loved her mother, she didn’t want her to start popping over all the time—even if her cottage was located in the boonies, as her mom kept saying.

Like Dare Valley had boonies. It was the boonies.

Dr. Jeff kept her company at the bar again, and while she enjoyed talking to him, she didn’t want to give him any encouragement. Dating wasn’t high on her list of plans for her time in Dare Valley.

As she was leaving the bar, a car honked. She looked over and saw Andy rolling his window down and slowing his car to match her pace.

“Hey!” he called. “I was just swinging by to see if you were at your dad’s after your big day.”

“I decided to head out,” she said and then gestured for him to pull into the space at the end of the block. “Enjoy my new digs.”

He leaned toward the passenger seat window as she walked over. “How was your first day of class?”

“Epic,” she said with a grin. “Where’s the munchkin?”

“With Jane and Matt and Moira. I begged Jane to work with Rufus.”

“Good idea,” she said, resting her hands on the open window. “I could go back in if you want a drink.”

“Or you could show me your place?” he asked with a mischievous smile. “I’m intrigued by your description. What was it again? Strawberry Shortcake meets Jane Austen. Not something you hear every day.”

“I’m parked around the corner. You can follow me home.” Then a thought struck her. “Wait! Have you eaten? I don’t have much in my refrigerator yet. Dad gave me a mammoth serving of fish and chips.”

“Some things never change,” Andy said, shaking his head. “Mom fed me after our talk today.”

She gazed at him over her nose. “Talk, huh? That sounds ominous. You okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice even and sure. “Now hustle it over to your car, O’Brien.”

“As you wish, Andy Cakes,” she said, giving a playful hip wiggle.

She didn’t hustle since she was healing. At her pace, a snail could have beaten her. Or a turtle. Totally embarrassing.

But Andy didn’t pressure her or act impatient. He pulled up behind her when she rounded the corner, then followed her on the meandering route to her house. When they arrived, she cut the engine and took a moment to soak in the view. Merry Cottage.

The yellow house with the lavender shutters and front door warmed her insides.

As someone who’d intentionally chosen to live like a nomad, it was weird to feel this attached to a place.

Over the course of her adult life, she’d made sure not to get attached to anything but her cameras.

Otherwise it would have been too difficult to move on.

Besides, early in her career, she’d reminded herself she could always return to any places that felt particularly special and meaningful.

Unfortunately, war sometimes destroyed those places, which had taught her to enjoy the moment.

When she exited the car, Andy gave a shrill whistle. “You weren’t kidding about the cottage. It’s out of a cartoon. I don’t know if I can walk in there and retain my Man Card.”

“My dad said the same thing when he came over to mow the grass, but his manhood is still intact. I think you’ll be okay.”

He scanned the yard. “If you end up getting a poodle to go along with this house, I might have to schedule an intervention.”

Like she’d ever own an animal. It didn’t suit her lifestyle. “No worries there. Come on in.”

She dug into her purse for her key. Her dad had given her a key chain with the Hairy’s logo on it.

The leprechaun’s charming smirk put a smile on her own face.

Of course, most people didn’t lock their doors around here, but she would sleep better at night knowing the deadbolt was securely fastened.

Opening the door, she gestured grandly for Andy to precede her.

“Ladies first,” he said, so she stepped inside ahead of him.

“Make yourself at home,” she said, looking for somewhere to drop her purse. Everything was still so new she hadn’t settled on the right spot yet.

“I have to say, Luce,” Andy exclaimed. “You sure know how to pick them.”

“It’s charming and homey!” she shot back, setting her purse down on the window seat in the parlor.

“It is if you like lace, tea, and crumpets,” he said, rocking back on his heels. “Seriously, Luce. I can see why this place hasn’t been rented, but at least it doesn’t smell like an old basement.”

Old basement indeed. “Would you like a beer? Dad made sure I was stocked for visitors.”

“I had one earlier, but I wouldn’t say no to another.” He followed her into the kitchen, chuckling under his breath. “What did your mother bring you?”

“Besides eggs, milk, and butter?” she asked, gesturing to the selection of beer arranged on the shelf in the refrigerator door. “Cosmopolitan fixings.”

“Figures,” he said, grabbing one of her favorite microbrews from Portland.

She took one for herself and handed him the bottle opener—another piece of Hairy’s swag—after popping her own. “To good friends.”

He clicked his bottle against hers when she extended it. “The best.”

They took a drink to seal the toast. “Come sit at my green 1950s aluminum table with matching vinyl chairs. Mom couldn’t believe it. Isn’t the set incredible?”

“Green? It looks…ah…”

“What?”

“Blue to me,” he said, clearing his throat.

She wasn’t exactly surprised, but her spirits sank all the same. “Really?”

He rubbed her arm. “One of those blue-green colors. Like aquamarine.”

She started tracing the scuffed-up metal edge of the table as she tried to shake off her tension.

“I’d forgotten how much you like vintage,” he said, watching her carefully. “You were always wearing something old in high school. Antique.”

She narrowed her eyes at him and let herself fall into their usual easy banter. “It was fashionable. Besides, I like things that have a story.”

“This table sure has a story,” he mused, shaking his head. “I shudder to think what your bed looks like. Princess and the pea meets…Marie Antoinette or something.”

Snorting on a laugh, she said, “It’s one of those old-school brass beds.”

He started laughing. “You’ll have to show it to me.” Then a shadow passed his face. “If that’s not too weird.”

“Weird? Why would that be weird?”

When he shrugged and looked away from her, she asked, “Are you acting all awkward because you asked to see my princess bed?”

He swung his gaze to meet hers, and she noted a flush on his ears.

“Seriously? It’s only a bed, Andy Cakes.” But her heart started hammering. Had she been right the other night? Had he been thinking about her in a weird way ?

If so, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. They’d been friends forever. He was not going to mess it up by turning all guy on her. Not Andy. She set her beer aside and grabbed his hand, pulling him out of the chair.

“What are you doing?” he cried as she led him out of the kitchen, back through the parlor, and down the short hallway on the right side of the house.

“Getting this whole bed thing out of the way,” she said, ever rational.

“Come on, Lucy,” he responded, tugging on her hand. “I don’t need to see it. You’re embarrassing me here.”

“You’re making too big a deal of it,” she said as she hauled him into her room. Haul was a strong word. She was too weak to haul anyone.

“Now you’re being weird,” he said, forcing her to a halt in the doorway.

Yeah, she was, but she wasn’t going to allow any weirdness between them. “Ta-da!” she exclaimed, sweeping her free hand across the room. “One antique brass princess bed.”

“Great!” he said, his cheeks flushed now. “I’ve seen the bed. Can we go back to the kitchen, please, and drink our beers?”

Teasing him was too fun to pass up. She let go of his hand and ran across the short expanse of the bedroom, kicking off her shoes as she went. She jumped on the bed, careful of her mending back, and gave it a gentle bounce, making it squeak.

Andy looked like she’d doused cold water on his face.

“Mom discovered how noisy the bed was, of course, when she helped me put on the linens.”

“You’re going out of your way to embarrass me,” he told her, pinching his nose. “I’d forgotten how much you love to do that. What are the scarves for?” He pointed to the row of scarves she’d arranged over the brass footboard.

He was trying to change the subject. “To monitor any change in my color vision. Dr. Davidson suggested I buy different shades of the color spectrum so I could monitor my progress at home. They have a retailer they recommend to patients around the corner from their office. The store person helped me select the right ones after my appointment.”

“That’s a great idea,” he said, zeroing in on the scarves, all professional now. “What color is this?” he asked, pointing to a red one.

That did it. “Don’t go all doctor on me.

It’s weird!” she ordered, bouncing again to draw his attention away from the scarves, sending another squeak through the air.

“We’re friends. There’s nothing weird about seeing my bed.

Heck, in high school, you used to sit on it with me and do your homework. Or have you forgotten?”

Now his whole face was flushing. “That was a long time ago.”