T. R. McClure - Wanted - The Perfect Mom

Holly shook her head. She didn’t bother to remind her father that if people wanted the baked goods they could walk down the boardwalk, buy a box and take them home. The Wildflower provided a destination with ambience. She set the cup on the counter, then retrieved a bear claw from the case.

Carrying her father’s order to the low table, she set down the coffee and pastry and sat, waiting for her father to finish his inspection.

Her dad settled into the chair opposite and picked up his cup. He sipped, set down the cup and forked off a bite of the breakfast treat.

“Do you like the coffee?” Holly had spent days finding the perfect blend for her signature coffee, with just the right amount of acidity and strength. She was proud of her creation.

Fritz held the cup under his nose and sniffed. “Strong.”

Holly pursed her lips, biting back the immediate retort that came to mind in favor of a more diplomatic answer. “The proper terminology is bold.”

“If you say so.” Fritz stared out the front window. “I still can’t believe people in this town will pay the kind of money you’re asking, especially when so many are out of work.”

“Thanks for the encouragement, Dad.”

He finally looked directly at her. “Encouragement has nothing to do with it. You either make it or you don’t. You have to understand business.”

“You don’t have a business degree. Sonny and Thomas don’t have degrees.” Leaning forward, Holly propped her elbows on her knees and clenched her hands into fists. It took everything she had not to blow up at the man. “Are you afraid I won’t pay you back at the end of the year?”

Fritz set down the cup with a clatter. “I have to stop at the hardware store.” He wrapped the half-eaten pastry in a napkin and shoved the package into his shirt pocket. “Thanks for the coffee.”

And ten minutes after he showed up at her shop for the first time, Holly’s father disappeared out the door.

Holly dropped her head in her hands. What happened to the father she knew and when had he become so darn difficult?

* * *

BEFORE LONG, MAC was stopping at The Wildflower every morning for a cup of Holly’s special blend. The caffeine helped him function and he was supporting a local business. Right?

He didn’t know if his simple apology would be enough, but her animosity had lessened. So he arrived promptly at seven, got a mug of coffee and chatted with whoever was working. Sometimes her mother, sometimes Louise and sometimes Carolyn stood behind the counter while Holly busied herself in the kitchen or storeroom. On Saturday mornings, Holly would sit with him and share a coffee and the local news. Then he would grab a coffee to go and continue about his day.

The Friday before Memorial Day weekend, Mac paid for his coffee and ran into Chris Hoffman on his way out the door.

Chris slapped his shoulder. “Hey, man, long time no see.” Tall, thin, with stylishly cut jet-black hair, the thirty-year-old turned as many heads now as he did in high school.

“Look at you,” Mac said, “you’re the poster boy pilot.” He gripped Chris’s outstretched hand. “Where have you been, Chris? Or should I say, where haven’t you been?”

“Flying right seat with the big boys. I just got back from LA.” Chris laughed as he shut the door and looked around the shop. “I’m on a ten-day break and I thought I’d check out baby sister’s business venture.” He turned at the sound of the kitchen door banging open. “There she is—the family entrepreneur.”

Holly paused when she caught sight of Mac and Chris. Just a few days ago she would have been irritated at the sight, remembering how often Mac had inserted himself between her and her closest brother. But since Mac’s disclosure, she’d started to let go of that old hurt.

“Hey, bro, welcome home.” She shot a look at Mac. “Good morning, Chief McAndrews.”

Mac smiled and said, “Good morning, Ms. Hoffman.” He tore his gaze from Holly’s bright green eyes and slapped Chris on the back. “Let’s get together while you’re home.” He reached for the door.

Chris’s face lit up. “Why don’t you join the family Monday afternoon at the farm? Thomas is burning burgers.”

“Sounds good, Chris. I look forward to catching up.”

“And bring your mom and your little girl.”

The words were a bucket of ice water on his thoughts of spending time with Holly away from the shop. “Mom is on a bus trip and my, um, Riley is still in North Carolina with her grandparents.”

“Another time, then.” Chris grinned.

Without a backward glance, Mac left the coffee shop and paused on the porch, taking a deep breath of the cool morning air. The tempting aroma of fresh-baked bread reached him and he glanced down the boardwalk toward The Cookie Jar. There had been no more instances of disappearing change or baked goods. Maybe Sue had been confused, after all.

Across the street, Tom Johnson waved as he got out of his car and walked toward the bank. “Beautiful day, Chief,” he said.

Mac nodded and held up his cup in a wordless salute. Tom disappeared into the bank, locking the door behind him. No banker’s hours for Tom, Mac mused as he clattered down the steps to his police car. He didn’t regret coming back here. Bear Meadows was made up of good people, salt of the earth. But he had no social life. Any high school friends had either moved on or were busy with families, as he had once been. He pushed thoughts of his daughter out of his mind. Her grandparents would entertain his daughter over the holiday better than he ever could. He liked talking to Holly, but she scared him. She always had. Mac backed out of the parking space.

He took a swig of coffee and headed toward Shadow Falls for a visit with their police chief. The bank branch had been robbed again the previous day, only this time the culprits, a man and a woman, were caught on a surveillance camera. Seemed like the perfect distraction.

* * *

“WHEN DID YOU get in?” Holly wiped the counter, where a dried glob of chocolate syrup resisted her efforts. Mac’s daughter didn’t live with him. Interesting. He must know as much about childcare as she did.

“Late last night. We’re staying in the Daffodil room.”

Holly paused. “I never took Valerie for the B-and-B type. For a woman you met over a glass of pinot noir at the San Francisco Airport, I’m surprised you convinced her. How does she like sleeping in a room where everything is yellow?”

Chris settled onto the stool at the end of the counter. “The Jacuzzi Dad installed makes up for the over-the-top cheerfulness. And she wanted the baby to be around her grandparents. Harley just started to walk last week.” He leaned on the counter. “You don’t mind my asking Mac to come over, do you? You two weren’t exactly friendly back in the day.”

Holly frowned as the last trace of chocolate disappeared into her cloth. Chris had been home with chicken pox the day Mac had turned Holly into a laughingstock in gym class. He had never mentioned the incident and she doubted any of his friends dared to tell him about it. “He made some comments I wasn’t happy about.”

Chris shrugged. “We were kids. Boys pick on girls. That’s our raison d’être.”

Holly sighed, feigning nonchalance. “In response to your question, no, I don’t mind. The more, the merrier.”

“Good,” he said. “Is your business doing well?”

“Her business is doing as well as can be expected. She’s only been open a month.” Carrying a plate of cookies, Rose came out from the kitchen and kissed her son on the cheek. “Was your room to your liking?”

“Great, Mom,” Chris said.

“Good.” Rose patted him on the shoulder. “Your sister works too hard. She hasn’t done anything fun since she left the military.”