Jenna Mindel - A Temporary Courtship

He pulled into the small driveway of Stella’s cottage with the screened-in porch and looked around. No cars were parked nearby other than Stella’s little black Buick. He stepped onto the porch. Crisp white wicker furniture with brightly colored cushions had been casually arranged. A vase stuffed with tall, fake flowers stood sentinel on the glass-topped side table.

And this was only the porch.

He finally knocked on the door.

“Darren, what a nice surprise.” Stella wore a red-and-white-checkered apron, looking very much like anyone’s grandma, only a lot brighter. She applied more makeup than most. “Come in.”

He lifted her purse. “I’m just dropping this off. You left it in the van.”

“Oh, my. I didn’t even miss it. Don’t get old.” She opened the screen door wide and it squeaked. The thing needed a good dousing of lubricant on the hinges. “Come in for a bit, would you?”

He’d fix the door before he left. Giving Stella a nod he said, “You’re not old.”

“Thanks, but we both know I am.”

He followed Stella into the small summer cottage. She lived alone. Raleigh once said that her husband had died only a couple of years ago.

A lot had happened in those two years. Darren had lost out on his bid for the supervisor position, and then he’d met Stella’s granddaughter. It had been a whirlwind romance, one that Darren reeled from still. Memories sliced through him as he walked past the dining room into Stella’s kitchen. He could almost hear Raleigh’s laughter and the way she’d teased.

It hurt.

“Cookies? I made them this morning.”

Darren sat down with a sigh. “Sure.”

She patted his shoulder. “How are you?”

“I’m okay.” Broken hearts mended with time but never forgot.

“Have you talked to Raleigh?” Stella bustled about the kitchen, stacking cookies on a plate and then pouring him a tall glass of milk.

“Not much to say, is there?”

Stella gave him a long look. “I suppose not.”

The question he didn’t want to ask nagged like a loose tooth until he finally spit it out. “Is she happy?”

Stella nodded. “She appears to be. Tony’s always buying her stuff. His last gift was a diamond ring.”

Darren clenched his jaw. He hadn’t seen them in months. Nineteen months, three weeks and a few days, to be exact.

She stared him down with a fierce gleam in her eyes. “You’re a good man, Darren. Much too good for my granddaughter.”

That surprised him, and he grunted around a mouthful of chocolate chip cookie. Stella’s granddaughter had stormed into his life and changed it. He’d forever be the spurned groom nearly left at the altar when his bride ran away with his best man after rehearsal. They’d taken off for the honeymoon and had the gall to come back and live under Darren’s nose in town. Was it any wonder that people in town looked at him with pity?

He drained his glass and slammed it down on the table. Fortunately, he didn’t break the thing, but the loud thwack startled Stella.

He stood. “I’ll fix that squeak in your screen door.”

Stella smiled up at him. “Do that and I’ll make you dinner. I was thinking chicken marsala with those morels we picked. Stay and eat with me.”

He looked into her eager face. A few more wrinkles creased around Stella’s blue eyes since the last time he’d seen her. For a woman in her early seventies, she was spry. Energetic and a good listener. She’d always been a good listener. Dinner might be a little earlier than he was used to, but food sounded good right now. What harm could there be in staying?

“Okay. I’ll stay, on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“What else needs fixing around here?”

Stella grinned, obviously pleased. “Well, there is a leaky faucet upstairs.”

“Now we’re talking.” Darren knew where the tools were kept and got to work rummaging for what he’d need. Really, he should have stopped in and checked on Stella sooner.

He could hear her humming while she scattered pots and pans in the kitchen. The phone rang. Stella still had a landline.

“Yup, now’s good.” Stella’s voice dropped to a whisper.

He headed up the stairs so he wouldn’t overhear her private conversation. Halfway up, it dawned on him that Stella might be talking to her granddaughter and his gut twisted. Surely, Stella had enough sense not to invite Raleigh over while he was here. He backed down a few steps and strained to listen, but Stella had already hung up the phone.

She was humming again.

Chapter Three

“How was class? Was there a good turnout?” Bree’s mother sat on the couch, her broken ankle propped up on a pillow. She wore a soft cast-style boot and had instructions to keep weight off it as much as possible for the next week.

Bree slipped into a pair of loose loafers to match the khakis she’d changed into. “It was good. Including me, there were ten of us. Stella was there.”

“How is she?”

“Good. I’m heading over there for dinner.”

Her mother frowned. “We’ve hardly had a chance to talk since you came up. Everything okay?”

Bree hesitated. Really, she was making too much of telling her parents about Philip. About her leaving. “Everything’s good. Really good. In fact, I was offered that residency I applied for.”

“In Seattle?” Aha, her mother had been paying attention all those months ago. “I thought they chose someone else.”

“They did, but something came up and the guy had to decline. I gave notice to the symphony, cleaned out my apartment and shipped out what I’ll need. I’ll leave here in about a month.”

Her mother narrowed her gaze. “What’s Philip think about that?”

This was where it got sticky. “We decided to call it quits. It’s for the best, all things considered.”

“Oh, Bree. He’s got a wonderful future ahead of him. You’re twenty-nine years old. Isn’t it time you stopped studying and settled down?”

Bree had expected that reaction. She’d gone for her master’s degree and a couple of short-term fellowships overseas while working her way up to assistant principal cellist. She wasn’t ready to get stuck with kids and a husband who’d make demands on her time. She needed to find her real purpose before settling down. Why had she been gifted with the love of music if simply playing was not enough?

Her parents had introduced her to Philip, the son of her father’s golf buddy, years ago, with high hopes. Hopes that Bree had shared until she’d applied for the music residency. Philip had been against it from the start, vocalizing that she didn’t have a chance. He’d been livid when she went ahead with her application anyway.

She shrugged, sparing her mother the details. “It just didn’t work out between us.”

“He doesn’t want to wait. Two years is a long time, Bree. Maybe you should rethink this residency.”

Bree breathed deep. “I’ve always wanted to try my hand at composing, and this is a prime opportunity.”

Her mother didn’t understand her restlessness. She’d never understood her desire to be more. Instead of arguing the point, her mother shelved the discussion for later, when she’d have reinforcement from Bree’s father. “Well, it’s good to have you here for longer than a couple of weeks. You might even catch your sister. She’s finally taking some time off and will be up Memorial Day weekend.”

Bree bit her lip. Her sister had been the role model in the family. She was a dermatologist married to a doctor with two kids. It didn’t get more successful than that in her mother’s eyes. “That’s great.”

Her mother tipped her head. “Thank you for overseeing my class. How’d that officer do? He’s filling in, you know. The woman I met with was supposed to facilitate but went out early on maternity leave. And no wonder, considering she’s got to be in her forties. See, that could happen to you if you wait too long to have kids. It’s a risk, Bree.”