Jenna Mindel - A Temporary Courtship

Most cottages remained shut up for winter. The majority of summer residents arrived in time for Memorial Day, a month away yet. Summertime in Maple Springs was gorgeous, but with the beauty came the crowds. His town swelled with part-timers and tourists overtaking the shops and sidewalks and slowing down traffic.

Bay Willows threw open her gates on April 1. Half a dozen or so of those early residents had signed up for this class. Every week for the next few, Darren would instruct uppity summer residents how not only to prepare but also to find wild edibles. He was more than qualified. He’d been scouring the woods since he was a kid. He knew where to find everything Teri had planned before her doctor called her out.

Farm to table was big right now, and foraging for local fare had become an in thing. If there was one thing he’d learned about Bay Willows, being in was important. Darren had never been one for fads or passing fancies. Safety was his thing. Protecting the area he loved.

But God had a funny way of making a man face his past. And his failures. So here Darren stood in front of the Bay Willows community building, a place he’d vowed never to step foot in again, hoping to somehow rewind history. He wanted a different outcome this time. He’d not only get the job he wanted but also get over Raleigh, banishing her from his soul so he could move on.

She wouldn’t be here. She’d hated these kinds of things, calling the classes and workshops given by Bay Willows “hokey gatherings for bored housewives and grandmothers.” She’d had a rebellious streak when it came to this place, disdaining it almost as much as he. Maybe that was what had made him attractive to her in the first place. He didn’t belong here and Raleigh knew that, but he hadn’t been good enough to keep. In the end, she’d left him.

Music tugged his attention away from his dark thoughts. String music. A violin?

“Good. Now pick up the pace. Like this,” a woman’s voice, muffled and barely discernible, encouraged.

He heard a deeper string sound emanate from above, streaming out an open second-floor window like a soft spring rain. Mellow and warm, the song wrapped around him. For a moment, he forgot why he didn’t want to be here. Even his plan to go over the class notes one more time faded away as he simply listened.

The violin joined in, trying to keep up. Whoever played the deeper sounding instrument was good. Really good. The music suddenly stopped, followed by the scrape of a chair. “Sorry, but I’ve got to run.” A pause and then, “Let me know if you need help.”

He couldn’t hear the response. Whoever played the violin kept going, but the richer-sounding instrument was done. Bummer. It wasn’t a bass. What were those things called...

Darren shifted his satchel and focused on the double doors ahead. Time to go to work. He took one more sweeping look around the clump of a few buildings that made up the Bay Willows administrative campus in the midst of summer cottages arranged by the lake. Confident his ex-fiancée wasn’t lurking in the shadows, Darren stepped inside.

The community room had a kitchen where he’d demonstrate how to prepare what they found in the field. He took over a table at the front of the main room and pulled out the required paperwork. Liability waivers, emergency contact information and wild edible booklets for each attendee along with a calendar of class topics and a list of suggested items to bring on each outing. He was as ready as he’d ever be.

“Mr. Zelinsky?”

He jerked his head up at the sound of a feminine voice. “Yes?”

A slight woman with dark brown hair framing a pretty face stood before him, scattering his thoughts. She was average height but delicate-looking; her full lips stained red made her creamy skin look that much lighter. Her bangs had been cut short and jagged as if she’d let a kid loose with scissors. His sisters had had dolls with choppy bangs like that by the time they’d gotten done with them. The rest of the woman’s thick hair was long and straight.

Her eyes were a wild golden color framed by dark lashes, putting him in mind of the bobcat he’d come upon last winter. No eye makeup, as far as he could tell; she didn’t need it. She stepped closer and held out her hand. “Bree Anderson. My mother, Joan, organized this class, but she’s off her feet with a broken ankle, so I’m here to help.”

Momentarily mesmerized by those eyes, he didn’t take her offered hand. “Help?”

She looked at him like he might be dim-witted—the typical local boy without a brain. “You know, help with anything you may need since you’re sort of filling in at the last minute.”

He’d had a good week’s notice. Plenty of time. “What did you say your name was?”

“Bree. Bree Anderson.” She let her hand drop.

On the edge of uppity, the name suited her. Bree Anderson looked exactly like what he’d expect. Pampered, sheltered and expensive were written all over her.

“Like the cheese?” He threw out that verbal jab without thinking.

Amusement shone from Bree’s eyes instead of offense. Her mouth lifted, making deep dimples in her cheeks. One more thing to tease him. “Yes. Exactly like the cheese but with two e’s and no i.”

She had a slight lilt in her voice. Not a prominent accent or anything, simply a different way of enunciating certain words that made it obvious she wasn’t from around here.

“Got it. My name’s Darren.” He handed over the forms. She’d be his liaison, then, the link between a backward local and the in summer folk. “You might as well read and sign these. Everyone needs to complete them before we go anywhere. Let me know if you have any questions.”

“Sure thing.” She bit the top of the pen as she read over the forms. Straight white teeth were framed by those full, bow-shaped red lips. Who wore red lipstick?

Who cared? He liked it.

Tightening his jaw, he turned away. He needed to stop noticing things about her, now. Noticing led to attraction, and that could only lead to trouble. Darren had had enough trouble with one woman from Bay Willows to last a lifetime.

Bree signed her name in a tight scrawl and handed over the waiver. “Seems self-explanatory. Seek and eat at our own risk.”

“Exactly.” He took the signed forms without looking at her.

“Darren, is that you?”

His heart pitched when he heard that voice. Of course Raleigh’s grandmother would sign up. She lived here during the open months of April through November when she wasn’t in Florida. “It’s me. How are you, Stel?”

“I didn’t know you’d be teaching this class. The confirmation letter had a woman’s name on it.” Stella hustled toward him for a big hug.

He returned it, of course. He’d always liked Raleigh’s grandmother. She’d treated him well and had referred to him as her new favorite grandson. She’d accepted him as-is—the only one of them who’d done so.

“Teri went out early on maternity leave,” Darren explained.

“Oh.” Stella’s gaze narrowed. “Bree! I didn’t expect to see you here. Do you two know each other?”

“We just met.” Bree smiled.

“Oh, well, good. That’s good.” Stella’s penciled-in eyebrows arched toward her hairline. “How’s your mom?”

“She needs to stay off her feet for a while, but she’ll be fine.”

“Fortunate for all of us. Yes, very fortunate.” Stella glanced from him to Bree and then back to him. “Joan broke her ankle playing tennis. Can you imagine?”

There were worse things broken in life, but Darren didn’t say that. He nodded as he watched more people enter the room. Mostly women, but a couple of men joined them, too. All of them looked well beyond retirement age. Could these people safely tromp around in the woods? He’d find out soon enough.