Daffodils and Danger (2 page)

“Then why’d you mention it?” Wyatt stepped around her to tend to the other scattered carts. The wheels wobbled and squealed in protest, making the carts hard to maneuver as he lined them along the side wall near the check-out area. Add wheel repair to the list.

“Just because.” She shrugged and emptied cash from the register into a night-drop bank bag before locking the machine and switching off the power. “It’s on your radar now, isn’t it?”

“I suppose, along with a million other things.” Wyatt, painfully overloaded by details, pressed one palm to his chest. His mind reeled like a ricochet in a cinder-block room. So many things on the list and yet it continued to grow exponentially. With Mom here alone in the evening while Reese ran deliveries, security was an issue. Well, that was about to end—he’d see to it. Yes, this was quiet and cozy Clover Cove, but times were changing, and it would serve them all well to become more aware. “I hope Kami knows how to make a decent cup of coffee.”

“Holding down the fort the way she’s managed since her mama passed, I’m sure she’s added that skill to her arsenal.” His mother shimmied out of an oversized patchwork smock and brushed soil from her khakis. “I’ll text Reese and let him know where to find us.”

“You text?”

“Why not?” She reached into her pocket and drew out a cell phone. “My fingers work as well as yours.”

“Wow. OK.” Wyatt shook his head in disbelief. Too much had changed around here since his dad was gone. His gaze slipped to the pizzeria across the street, its expansive front windows bathed in light. Beyond the glass, he caught a glimpse of a slender woman flitting among the tables as the enticing aroma of marinara mingled with Italian sausage and garlic. “I’ll just walk the grounds out front while I wait for you.”

2

Kami Moretto glanced out the front window of Pappy’s Pizzeria to find a pick-up truck barreling into the Cutler Nursery parking lot across the street. Beneath a halo of lights, water splashed from the wheel wells while gravel fishtailed in all directions like shrapnel. Music roared with a heavy beat from the cab. Someone was sure in a hurry.

“Kami, would you mind to pour me a refill on my coffee?” Mrs. Baker called from one booth over. Her nasally, high-pitched voice grated on Kami’s fraying nerves. It had been a long day, starting at seven-thirty when she got word that Jada had called in sick—again. It was hard to find good help. Kami had scurried to fill the gap once again, but the extra hours weighed on her. She ached from head to toe, and her head danced with the makings of a monster migraine. Mrs. Baker’s incessant taps along the tabletop with her soup spoon didn’t help at all.

The woman continued her soliloquy, “All the shopping today has me plumb tuckered out. Who imagined that every grandchild—all six of them—would have an April birthday? And they all fancy different things. Newfangled gadgets and all those addictive video games that are sure to rot their brains.”

“Now, dear…” Mr. Baker leaned across the table and patted her veiny hand. “Remember your blood pressure.”

“Of course. How could I forget it? I’m not getting any younger.”

“You’re still beautiful to me, dear.”

“Thank you, honey.” She smiled, revealing yellow teeth smudged with ruby-red lipstick. “But a day at the mall has done me in. I’m liable to fall asleep in this bowl of scrumptious gazpacho.”

“Now, we can’t have that.” Kami stifled a yawn as Mr. Baker rolled his eyes at his wife’s over-dramatic interlude. With nearly fifty years of marriage under their belt, the two were a pair, for sure. “I just brewed a fresh pot. I’ll grab it and be right over.”

“Thank you, sweetie.” Mrs. Baker nodded and the large gap between her front teeth flashed as she smiled. “And bring over a few more of those delicious garlic knots. Your father has outdone himself today.”

“I’ll let him know you said so.”

Kami strode from the front window before whoever was driving the truck climbed out of it, leaving her curiosity piqued. With a truck like that, it was probably someone desperate for a load of mulch. The current storms were supposed to ease through the night, promising clear, blue skies in the morning. Tomorrow would be perfect weather for planting. Perhaps she’d finally even tackle the flower beds at the front of her small house if she could spare an hour or two away from the restaurant.

If
Jada showed up. Kami vowed to march straight to the woman’s house and drag her from her bed and all the way to the restaurant, if necessary. If she wasn’t a cousin by marriage, although twice removed, Dad would have canned her months ago.

Considering options and making a mental list of the supplies she’d need, Kami went after the coffee carafe. As she rounded the service counter, she breathed in the tangy scent of pizza sauce mingled with oregano and fennel from the Italian sausage links her father had prepared from scratch sometime between the lunch and dinner crowds. Pappy’s specialized in Sicilian style pizza, but everyone loved Anthony Moretto’s spaghetti with fennel sausage, too.

Music drifted from the overhead speakers. A snappy country tune had Kami humming along. The melody revived her as she reached for a coffee carafe. She supposed she’d better brew at least one more pot of dark roast. Mrs. Baker was sure to drain this one all on her own.

“Order’s up.” Her dad called from the other side of the kitchen pass-through window. “Thin crust with double anchovies and a plate of fettuccini, table four.”

“Got it.” Kami whirled to snag the pale green order ticket from the window. “Add a basket of garlic knots for the Bakers. They’re singing your praises today, by the way.”

“Is that so? Well, that sure beats last week when Mrs. Baker complained the gazpacho was cold. It’s supposed to be chilled, right?”

“That’s right, Dad.” Kami wrinkled her nose as she set the carafe and plate of spaghetti on a tray before reaching for the silver pizza pan and the basket of garlic knots her father had placed alongside. Anchovies were not a favorite of hers. It was the only food in the restaurant she couldn’t stomach. The smell alone nauseated her, even after years viewing the poor little fish lying like wounded soldiers in a mass of tangy sauce and melted mozzarella.

Ugh…She crossed the tile floor, making quick delivery of the pizza before moving on to refill Mrs. Baker’s coffee. She added a healthy splash to Mr. Baker’s cup, as well, and dropped a handful of creamer cups on the table along with the knots.

“How’s that?” She offered her best smile.

“Perfect.” Mrs. Baker lifted her soup bowl and tipped it to her lips, draining the last drop before she reached for a garlic knot and wiped the ceramic basin clean. “Thank you.”

“Um…so glad to see you’re enjoying your meal.” Kami backed away, taking the carafe with her. She supposed her dad should consider it the highest compliment that the bowl now looked as clean as it had before he’d filled it. “You’re welcome. If there’s anything else you need, just let me know.”

“Oh, I will. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that, sweetie.”

A bell over the front door chimed, signaling another customer had arrived. Conflict bit at Kami’s belly. She was thankful for the business that would help them stay afloat another week, but dragging on her feet. She prayed for the strength to make it to closing time. She couldn’t let her dad see how exhausted she felt. It would just add more worry to his already overflowing plate. She drew a deep, cleansing breath and turned toward the door. Philippians 4:13 washed over her, ‘
I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.’

The breath
whooshed
out.

“Hi, Kami. How are you today, my dear?” Hattie Cutler’s grin was contagious, but that wasn’t what stopped Kami in her tracks. It was the man at Hattie’s side—her eldest son, Wyatt. Dark and mysterious…that’s how Kami always thought of him; the most elusive of the Cutler clan and so different from his three younger siblings.

“I’m…fine.” Kami found it hard to speak while Wyatt’s eyes, like two pieces of polished bronze, scanned the length of her. A scowl formed as a single furrow along his forehead deepened into a thin line. Dark hair tumbled over the collar of his navy shirt in mussed waves of rich russet. How was it possible for any human to possess such impossible good looks? Suddenly, the carafe she held weighed fifty pounds. Her hands felt weak as globs of gelatin. She swallowed hard and managed a raspy, “Hello, Wyatt.”

“Kami?” His gaze narrowed and the scowl widened as he wrestled the wobbling carafe from her. “Don’t drop this. You’ll burn yourself. Are you OK?”

“Yes, of course I’m OK.” She smoothed her French braid, grimacing at the flyaway strands that had escaped an elastic band to dance around her heated face. Dad must have turned up the thermostat against the rainy chill, because suddenly she was sweltering. The palms of her hands were slick as she snatched the carafe back from him. “And give me this. I’m perfectly capable of handling it. What’s wrong with you, Wyatt? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Do I look so different from the last time you saw me?”

“It’s been a long time, so yes…I mean, no.” He jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, his gaze capturing hers and holding tight. “It’s just…you’ve grown up.”

“Well, that’s a real shocker.” Frazzled nerves sizzled and popped as she swiped her free hand along the thigh of her jeans and adjusted her apron, splattered with a full day’s worth of preparing and serving meals. Her feet screamed in worn tennis shoes and her lower back cried out through a tangle of nerves. “Time does that to a person, you know.”

“Right. Of course…” He shook his head and turned toward the closest booth. “Forget it. Can we sit here?”

“Sit wherever you’d like. I’ll be right back.” Kami crossed over to the serving counter to place the carafe back on the burner. Her heart did an annoying little two-step as she returned with a pair of menus and placed them on the polished table along with silverware wrapped in downy-white napkins. What on earth was wrong with her?

“Kami, you’ve lost weight.” Hattie Cutler frowned. “How is that possible when you’re around Anthony’s cooking day in and day out?”

“I stay busy here. Sometimes I guess I forget to eat.”

“That’s awful, dear. And here we are…making more work for you.”

“You are never work, Hattie.” Kami’s smile was genuine. “You’ve been so kind since Mama…”

“Oh, you poor thing.” Hattie stood and drew her in for a hug and the scent of her perfume was soothing. “Too much hurt.”

“I’ll be fine. It’s Dad I’m worried about. He’s been so sad lately. I can barely get him to leave the restaurant, even to sleep.”

“If I know anything, I know Anthony Moretto is a strong and hardy man. He’ll be just fine in time. You’ll see.”

“Thank you, Hattie. That helps.” Kami swiped the tears that spilled over as she swallowed hard and turned to Wyatt. “So, how long are you home for?”

“I’m not—”

“Oh, he’s home for good,” Hattie interrupted as she slipped into the booth. “He hasn’t figured it out yet, but mark my words, he is.”

“Mom, please.” Wyatt joined her on the opposite side. “I never said—”

“He’s going to help manage the nursery.”

“Really? That’s…interesting. Welcome home, Wyatt.” Kami struggled for words as her belly did an odd little series of somersaults. For as long as she could remember, Wyatt had been waiting to leave the small town of Clover Cove. The nursery must be in dire straits for him to agree to return, even for a short length of time. To steady herself, she focused on Hattie. “What can I get you to drink?”

“I’ll take sweet tea with lemon.” Hattie smiled at her, and Kami’s heart ached. Oh, how she missed her mother! Everything had seemed to fall apart since she was gone. She was the glue that had held the pizzeria—and their family—together. Kami sighed with longing. She’d give anything to sit with Mom and talk just one more time, to feel her gentle embrace. There was so much she longed to share. She tucked away the longing and drew a breath as she placed extra napkins on the table.

“Tea it is.” With a slight hitch in her voice, Kami turned back to Wyatt. “And for you?”

He flicked open a menu. “I’ll start with some coffee, if it’s fresh.”

“It is.” Kami motioned toward the sputtering industrial-sized coffeemaker. “There seems to be a run on it tonight. I’ll bring over a cup right away.”

“Good, and some creamer, too.” Wyatt flipped the menu to the back side. He scanned the dinner specials as he continued, “None of that fancy flavored stuff, either.”

“FYI, we don’t carry the fancy, flavored stuff here.” She reached into her apron pocket for an order pad. “Just your basic steaming-hot cup of java. It gets the job done, though.”

“That’ll work. Thanks.”

“No problem. Would you like the usual, Hattie?”

“That’s right…spaghetti and meatballs, extra sauce. Your dad makes the best.”

“Thank you. I’ll pass along the compliment. And you, Wyatt?”

“Hmm…” He closed his menu and sat back against the booth cushion. “A small, deep-dish pizza loaded with anchovies ought to do the trick. And, while I’m waiting, I’d like an order of those little parmesan-dusted, buttered—”

“Garlic knots.” Kami finished for him as she jotted down the order. “I got it. Coming right up.”

Kami turned, ripping the order sheet from the dwindling pad before tucking the cardboard sheaf back into the pocket of her apron. As she crossed the room, her pulse skittered with a disturbing blend of exhaustion and anticipation. Wyatt had come home. His return was a good thing, because it was no secret that Hattie Cutler was in dire need of help at the nursery.

But, by the scowl plastered on Wyatt’s face, he was none too happy about the homecoming. Last Kami heard, he was hip deep in some high-powered job at a big-time marketing agency. Had he relinquished that indulgent lifestyle? And, if he had, how long would he last here in modest Clover Cove before he grew restless and took to the road, heading north to the Big Apple once again?

And why did the thought of him leaving a second time make Kami feel as if a family of mice was dancing along her spine? She blew out a breath as she filled a mug with coffee. There was no earthly explanation—except exhaustion must be sucking all common sense right out of her.