Kara Lennox - Hometown Honey

“So, how are the wedding plans coming along?” Luke asked Cindy. A bystander might assume the question was borne of polite curiosity, but Cindy knew better. Luke Rheems had despised Dexter Shalimar on sight, and he never missed an opportunity to subtly remind Cindy that he thought she was a fool for marrying Dex.

“There aren’t many plans for me to make,” Cindy said breezily. “Dex is handling all the arrangements. We’re flying to Lake Tahoe, getting married in a little chapel in the mountains and then Dex is going to teach me to ski.” It was the sort of vacation she’d always dreamed of. She and Jim had visited Lake Tahoe before, of course. She’d gasped at the breathtaking scenery, the opulent homes, the flashy casinos. But there’d been no money for skiing or gambling, and they’d slept either in their truck or at a cheap motel.

This time, her honeymoon would be four-star hotels, fancy meals, private skiing lessons.

“Dex handles a lot for you, doesn’t he? The sale of your restaurant and your house, your wedding, your honeymoon. He’s chosen where you’ll live—”

“Dex is in real estate,” Cindy broke in, climbing down from the stepladder. She couldn’t spell and argue with Luke at the same time. “Why shouldn’t he handle my real-estate transactions? It’s what he’s good at. As for our home, yes, he did pick it out and furnish it. But I’m no good at decorating—he hired an expert to do that. Anyway, I’ve seen it and it’s perfect. A no-fuss penthouse with all maintenance taken care of.”

“And no backyard. Where will Adam play?”

She lowered her voice, getting truly irritated. “Don’t you start laying that guilt trip on me. My son is going to have a fabulous childhood. Dex has business all over the globe, so we’ll all travel the world together. Adam will meet and play with children of all cultures. He’ll frolic in alpine meadows and on Jamaican beaches. He’ll sample fresh foods from Italy and Indonesia. You act like he’ll be deprived simply because he doesn’t have a postage stamp of grass to call his own.”

“I happen to believe a child does need a few blades of grass to call his own.”

“And when you have a child of your own, you can raise him in a little backyard like a rabbit in his hutch. With the same view, seeing the same people, eating the same foods day in and day out.” She knew she should stop there, but he’d hit her hot button. “And he’ll grow up to be just as closed-minded and provincial as everybody else in this town, afraid of anything that’s strange or foreign or the slightest bit different.”

Luke arched one eyebrow at her, surprised by her outburst. “Is that how you see your Cottonwood neighbors? A bunch of ignorant, closed-minded xenophobes?”

Cindy was embarrassed to admit she didn’t know what xenophobe meant. But that was part of her point—and part of why she wanted something different for Adam. Sure, she’d traveled the country, but she’d never been to college. She wasn’t well read. She didn’t know anything about stylish clothes or entertaining or even how to fix her hair, which was currently pulled back in a loose ponytail. Dex had never criticized, but if she was going to be the wife of a high-society millionaire, she was going to have to work on her shortcomings.

To mask her ignorance, she changed the subject. “You’re just raining on my parade because you’re jealous.”

“Jealous? Oh, yeah, right. Of Dex? He’s a pencil-neck weenie.”

“Now you are obviously desperate, resorting to name-calling. By the way, I never heard the results of your big investigation into Dex’s background. You were going to uncover all his terrible secrets, right? The three other wives, the jail time, the sixteen illegitimate children?”

At least Luke had the good grace to look slightly ashamed. “He checked out,” was all he said.

As Cindy had known he would. She hadn’t just fallen off the turnip truck yesterday. She’d done a little checking of her own. Dexter Shalimar, though notoriously publicity wary and camera shy, was considered Houston’s hottest bachelor and one of its richest residents. His company, Shalimar Holdings, was one of the largest privately owned real-estate-development companies in the nation and one of the few that didn’t take a terrible beating during the recent recession. He’d never been married, had no children, had never been arrested. He was a major contributor to several charities and had come in seventeenth last year in the Boston Marathon. What was not to like?

As to whether she loved him—well, that was another matter. Jim would always occupy a very special place in her heart, and he couldn’t be shoved aside. But she was very, very fond of Dex, Adam seemed to adore him and she knew of many strong marriages based on mutual respect and affection.

Luke finished his biscuit and took his coffee in a to-go cup, as always. At about seven-thirty, the town-square business owners started arriving. Then, a little later, the moms who’d gotten their kids off to school showed up, along with the retirees. The breakfast trade had hardly let up before the early lunch crowd started trickling in.

It was a good, busy morning. But then, the café had always been a moneymaker. An unofficial historic landmark, it had supported Cindy’s family comfortably for generations. Still, Cindy had never felt any real attachment to the business. She’d worked here evenings and weekends and summers since she could remember, with the exception of the eight years she’d traveled the country with Jim in his 18-wheeler. To her, the Miracle Café meant turning down every other opportunity that had come her way—cheerleading, drama club, soccer. Her parents had worked twelve-hour days, seven days a week, and she’d been expected to follow suit.

The workload had only gotten worse since her mother’s death. As the sole owner, Cindy found it nearly impossible to take a long weekend, much less ramble around the country.

Now that she had Adam, she thought as she transferred a selection of meringue pies from cooling racks in the kitchen to the glass-fronted bakery case out front, the café was even more confining. She brought the baby to work with her, as Tonya did, where all the waitresses and even the busboys took turns spoiling him. But Cindy herself was so busy, she didn’t feel as if she spent enough time with him.

That would all change in a couple of months, she thought with a warm glow. She would travel from one adventure to another, the way she’d always dreamed. And once she and Dex were married, she was going to travel with him—she and Adam. She’d seen a lot of her own country before Jim’s death. Now, the world would be her oyster.

“Cindy?” It was Tonya, a water pitcher in one hand, menus in the other. “Those two ladies in booth three want to speak to you.”

Cindy glanced over to the booth by the window. In it sat two women, both blond, both obviously not from Cottonwood. One was dressed in a business suit, her artfully highlighted hair twisted into a complicated configuration atop her head. The other had really funky, spiky, frosted hair and an abundance of silver jewelry.

Could be a real-estate agent and her client, she thought optimistically. Cindy smoothed her apron, wiped her hands on a towel and, with a parting glance at Luke that told him to stop messing with her, she approached the women.

“Hello,” she said brightly. “I’m Cindy Lefler, owner of the Miracle Café.” She stretched her hand out in greeting to the one in the business suit.

The other woman squeezed her hand briefly. She didn’t smile. “Sonya Patterson. And this is Brenna Thompson. Please, could you sit down?” She indicated the red vinyl banquette across from her.

Cindy sat next to the one called Brenna, feeling apprehensive. “What can I do for you?”