Dandelion Wishes (17 page)

She couldn’t mean... She wouldn’t...

Tracy opened her mouth to say no but nothing came out. Rose took advantage of their near-silent exchange, darting past her granddaughter up the stairs. She snatched the microphone from Larry. “This man—” she pointed at Will “—wants to change things here.”

Mayor Larry made a grab for the microphone, but at the last minute, Tracy caught hold of his arm. She didn’t like Rose picking on Will, but he could take it. She wasn’t sure Rose in her current state could stand up to Larry.

Rose cast Tracy a quick smile before trashing Will some more. “I don’t know about you, but I want Harmony Valley to survive. We need some new improvements here in town, but we have to choose our allies carefully.”

“Granny Rose!” Emma and Rose played tug-of-war with the microphone.

Mayor Larry dropped a string of colorful curses in between platitudes about meddling members of society upsetting the status quo. Tracy held on to his arm.

“He won’t tell us why he wants to build the winery,” Felix shouted over them all.

“Don’t trust the computer nerd!” Rose gave up the mic and left the podium.

The gathered crowd dissolved into a raucous mess. Neighbor shouting at neighbor. Fists shaking. Hats tossed to the ground.

“Please!” Emma yelled into the microphone. “Let me finish casting my vote.”

“Too late,” Mayor Larry said, shaking Tracy off. “Besides, you’re going to vote for Rose.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Woo-hoo! Another win!” Sam shouted.

“I’m sorry, Sam, I’m not voting for you either.” Emma’s voice carried through the speakers and seemed to echo down empty Main Street. “The Grand Marshal is supposed to represent the best we have to offer. And this town is a survivor.”

Survivor? Tracy cringed at the word. She started shaking her head. Words. She needed to find the right words. But the words wouldn’t come.

“And I think this year, the person who best represents survival—”

No, no, no, no, no.

“—is my dear friend Tracy Jackson. So my vote for Grand Marshal goes to her.” Emma was smiling, as if she was giving Tracy the gift at the top of her wish list.

Didn’t Emma realize the Grand Marshal had to preside as the master of ceremonies over the Spring Festival events? Had to stand up on stage and speak into a microphone? Tracy’s stomach roiled.

After a moment of silence, a few people started to applaud. And then a few more. And then everyone in the town square was applauding, while Tracy struggled not to be sick.

Mayor Larry took the microphone from Emma with a slightly distant look that seemed to be calculating popular opinion against established procedure. He was Tracy’s last hope.

“I know we have rules and we counted votes, but I think in this case, we can make an exception.” He drew himself up and waved an arm in Tracy’s direction. “Our Grand Marshal for this year’s Spring Festival is Tracy Jackson!”

Tracy ran to the alley behind El Rosal and vomited.

* * *

“A
ND
YOU
THINK
I’m overbearing?” Will confronted Emma beneath the oak tree.

Mayor Larry was having a powwow with the ladies on the town council over by the stage. Rose was looking abashed, clutching a cookie tin to her chest. The rest of the crowd had dispersed, walking slowly home or climbing into cars.

“Did you see how upset Tracy was?” Will was so close to Emma she could smell coffee on his breath.

“Yes, and I’m sorry for that.” Emma lifted her chin. “Yesterday I was joking with Tracy about her getting onstage with Granny Rose’s elementary-school kids instead of going to shock therapy. You do know she doesn’t want electrodes on her brain?”

He glared at her. “There’s been a lot of success with transcranial direct-current stimulation.”

“And what kind of success will she have if she’s petrified of the therapy?”

He waved her concern aside. “The best and brightest doctors are behind the trials. I was lucky to have gotten her in. You had no right—”

“You keep forgetting she’s an adult.” Or that she and Tracy had been best friends for more than two decades. “I warned her.”

“When?”

“Right before Granny Rose stole the microphone. Tracy could have stopped me.” Emma had been half hoping she’d see the old spark in her friend. The you-can’t-put-one-over-on-me grin as Tracy leaped forward to prevent her from taking the microphone. But this might be even better. Grand Marshal. It was a perfect challenge for Tracy.

Will scrubbed a hand over his face. He looked tired.

Emma resisted the urge to stroke her palm over his cheek. “She’s stopped me before. You don’t know how many times—”

“I don’t want to know.” He half turned away from her, hands on his hips.

“I half expected her to do the same thing this time.” Emma felt the beginnings of a grin.

Will shook his head. “This is a perfect example of why I kept you away from Tracy for months. You draw her in and then upset her.”

All levity faded. “Really? You think life is always a bowl of cherries jubilee? You upset my grandmother just by breathing. You don’t see me on your case about it.”

“That’s different.” His eyes were a brittle blue, his lips a thin line.

“Yep, but you’re forgetting one thing.”

He cocked an eyebrow.

“Tracy could have refused the honor. She still can. But she’s as stubborn as you are and I’m betting she won’t.” Emma saw her grandmother wave at her. “Encourage her to do it. Sometimes the hardest challenges are the best therapy.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

E
MMA
OPENED
THE
door that night to Agnes, Mildred, Larry and Will.

“Hello.” Will lifted a stack of three small pizza boxes, looking extremely unhappy to be on her porch, if Emma could judge anything through the rising steam. “We’re having an intervention.”

Perplexed, she moved back to let them all in. “Intervention?”

“A result of the ceremony this morning.” Will edged by in his pressed slacks and navy polo, leaving a trace of pepperoni and woodsy aftershave in his wake.

“Is this about Granny Rose?” Emma whispered fiercely. “Is she losing her seat on the town council?” Was Will replacing her? He wasn’t even a permanent resident.

Will moved closer to her, speaking softly as the others went into the dining room. “This isn’t for Rose. This intervention is for us.”

Emma drew back. “There is no us.”

His eyes darkened as his gaze dropped to her lips. “Not today.”

“And not tomorrow.” Emma shut the door firmly, wishing Will was on the other side.

“Did I forget someone’s birthday?” Granny Rose came out of her bedroom in a red Mandarin-collared tunic and matching silk pants. Despite it being Saturday, at Emma’s request, she’d been performing
The King and I.
There was currently an intermission for a costume change.

“No birthday, Rose.” Mayor Larry led the group into the dining room. “It’s an intervention, remember? We talked about it earlier.”

“Of course I remember.” Granny touched her temple, fooling no one.

Emma hurried to the kitchen for plates, napkins and drinks. Upon her return she found that the only seat left was between Granny Rose and Will. She discreetly pulled her chair as far away from Will as she could. Which wasn’t very far.

Once she was settled, Mayor Larry pinned Emma with a firm gaze. “This stops today.” He turned to Will. “The bickering. The harassment. The bother.”

“I’m confused,” Emma said, talking over Will, who was trying to shush her. “We haven’t done anything to warrant a citation or—”

Will shushed her again and spread his hand on her thigh.

Emma froze. The warmth of his hand penetrated her thin yoga pants. She glanced around to see if anyone had noticed, but no one’s frown deepened, not even Rose’s.

“See what I mean?” Larry used his fist like a gavel. “Bickering.”

“Harmony Valley is a peaceful place.” Agnes took over. An aging Tinker Bell on a serious mission. “We pride ourselves on our decorum, which was conspicuously absent at the Grand Marshal ceremony.”

It took superhuman willpower not to point her finger at Granny Rose.

Larry and Agnes turned expectantly to Mildred. Clearly, this was going to be a tag-team intervention.

Lips pursed, Mildred wasn’t saying anything.

“Mildred,” Agnes prompted.

Was Mildred afraid Emma and Will might start an intervention of their own about driving when legally blind if she spoke up? Emma hoped so.

When Mildred remained mum, Agnes continued, “We all realize the dire predicament the town’s in. Normally, we’d encourage discussion and debate. But we’re old and you can see firsthand how upsetting that can be.” She gestured toward Granny Rose.

All heads swiveled to the head of the table. Granny Rose was humming and seemed to have drifted somewhere else.

Point taken.

Agnes sighed. “This issue is upsetting not only to members of this house but other residents, as well. Mae nearly gave Phil a heart attack arguing about the situation. Sam got so annoyed with Felix, he almost stabbed him with a deer antler. You’ve created chaos. So we’re here to intervene in this project and propose a compromise.”

“We’ll rezone the property and raise funds to help supporting businesses get off the ground.” Mayor Larry took up the banner. “But in return, we want a guarantee the winery will stay under your ownership, Will. At the very least, you’ll have to prove that you won’t abandon us, like the grain mill did, or sell out.”

To his credit, Will kept his cool and spoke respectfully. “I’ve told everyone repeatedly that we won’t sell. How do we prove our commitment?”

“They could sign a contract,” Emma pointed out.

Will squeezed her thigh.

He would not control her like some dollar-store puppet!

Emma shoved at him as inconspicuously as she could. He flipped his palm up and appropriated her hand with his. They fit, those hands, as if they belonged to a long-married couple.

“We can understand your reluctance to sign a contract given the way wineries have a habit of failing,” Agnes said reasonably. “But we feel a further display of commitment and community involvement is critical. And so we’ve decided we want you to enter a float in the Spring Festival. Show the town your vision.” Agnes was calm. “And to make sure Rose’s interests are represented, we want Emma to help you. We feel her input is important.”

“A float?” Emma sucked in a breath. She’d worked on festival floats in her time. Usually there was scenery to be painted. She’d be fine if she could color it all in with crayons.

“That’s two weekends away.” Will frowned, holding Emma’s hand immobile when she tried to free herself. “We’re coming up on some hard deadlines for the winery. If we don’t set things in motion soon, it’ll put us back a year.”

“A float,” Emma murmured, gaze dropping to their joined hands. A dangerous corkscrew of desire spun slowly up Emma’s arm, encouraging her to forget her dreams. She lifted her gaze to the picture she’d painted of Yosemite’s Half Dome that was hanging in the hall. She tugged on her hand.

“You have two weeks to convince us.” Larry leaned forward. “If your float wins at the festival, you’ll be able to speak your piece during closing ceremonies. But more important, we’ll have a bargaining chip. If you feed us to the wolves, we’ll have pictures and video and witnesses to whatever you promise. We’ll put our foot in any future business dealings you have and make anyone who tries to deal with you think twice about taking you at your word.”

“I’ll have to check with my business partners.” Will rubbed their hands against his thigh as if he’d forgotten where he ended and Emma began. “Before I agree.”

“You have a day to decide. Your property has buildings on it we should have condemned ten years ago,” Larry pointed out. “You want to restore them, right?”

“So we have no choice.” Will’s voice hardened. He pressed their hands deeper into the flesh of his thigh.

“It’s settled, then.” When neither Will nor Emma added further protest, Larry filled his plate with pizza. “You start tomorrow morning at eight. That’s when Felix will deliver a flatbed trailer out to the Henderson property for you to use in your build.”

“Blackmail stole my appetite.” Will released Emma’s hand. “Excuse us. Emma and I have plans to make.”

* * *

“T
HAT
’
S
IT
,” S
LADE
said later at Edwin’s house after Will told his partners and Edwin about the intervention. He straightened the ends of his mud-colored paisley tie. “Nobody puts puppet strings on me. I say we cut our losses.”

“I’m worried the town’s input will never end.” Flynn tossed his Giants cap on the coffee table next to an open laptop. “How can we show them we’re committed? And then get them to butt out of our business?”

“Boys, this is not as dire as you make it.” Flynn’s grandfather sat on the couch, hands resting on his cane.

“Even if we build a kick-butt float, that’s no guarantee of winning,” Will pointed out. Failure to provide for Tracy loomed over him like an overcaffeinated grim reaper. “It’s not like votes count. Mayor Larry could pull something like Emma did at the Grand Marshal ceremony and knock our feet out from under us at the last minute.”

“Boys—”

“You can’t bail now,” Emma said from her seat on the low hearth, interrupting Edwin. “These are your parents and grandparents, your schoolteachers and doctors.” She’d been silent since they’d left Rose’s house. Not that Will could blame her. He didn’t want to talk about what happened under the table, either. He’d held on to her like she was his partner against them.

He should have kissed Emma out of his system days ago. Now he’d have that tension buzzing between them as they worked out their differences for the town’s future. That take-my-time kiss he’d taunted Emma with was going to be an empty threat, something he’d think about on his deathbed, pondering if it was his biggest regret or his greatest triumph.

“Why can’t you present the town with a contract saying you won’t sell?” Emma demanded, gaining steam. “Is making a buck at the expense of this place that important to you?”

Slade shook his head. “Not good business.”

“Boys!”

Everyone looked at Flynn’s grandfather.

“Boys, you’re forgetting our strategic advantages.” Edwin pounded his cane on the carpet. “You’ve already commissioned plans to renovate the buildings while keeping their charm. You’ve already decided to scale back production. You’ve got a talented artist at your disposal. She can design the float to showcase these things.”

Will wasn’t convinced. “And the vote? How can we control the vote?”

“There will be three floats in addition to yours—one from the Ladies Auxiliary, one from the Lions Club and one from the veterans.” Edwin pounded his cane again. “Those three floats don’t change from year to year. Our residents are too old to crawl around on a trailer and risk breaking a hip. Your float doesn’t have to be good enough to enter in Pasadena’s Rose Parade to win.”

“That’s all?” Flynn asked dubiously.

Edwin’s smile widened until it looked to be cradling his rather large nose. “No. We have one more advantage. In case of a tie, the Grand Marshal casts a vote.”

“And Tracy’s the Grand Marshal.” Slade smiled slyly at Will.

“You can’t cheat,” Emma said.

“They won’t need to.” Edwin gestured toward Emma. “Your talent is enough to win it for them.”

Emma exchanged stares with Will. His dared her to paint. Hers dared him to admit she couldn’t.

“So we’re agreed. We have two weeks to prove our case,” Flynn said.

“And we walk away if we don’t get approval by then,” Slade added.

They both turned to Will, who tore his gaze away from Emma and agreed.

“Forget for a moment that Slade can’t be trusted not to bail on the town if a bigger winery makes you an offer,” Emma said later, as Will walked her home along the fragrant riverbank. “I didn’t agree to help.”

“You could have refused at any time, just like Tracy could have refused your Grand Marshal nomination.”

“You could have told them,” Emma complained, wrapping her arms tightly around herself as if that was the only thing holding her together. “I can’t do this.”

“The Emma of old would have at least tried.” Will put an arm over her shoulder. She smelled of roses and fresh air and felt like a tightly wound clock whose springs were about to snap. Every muscle beneath his arm was tense.

“Like you’ve tried to reassure the town with anything other than your word?”

“Slade is my business partner. I can’t guarantee anything but my intent.”

She made a frustrating noise. “You shouldn’t put your arm around me.”

“I’m not going to kiss you.” Not that the idea was far from his mind. “You looked cold.”

“I’m not cold. I’m upset. I’m backed into a corner I can’t get out of, even if I wanted to.”

“You’ll figure it out.”

She made that frustrated sound again.

They veered off a side path toward Rose’s Victorian, walking in silence until they got to the porch steps. Emma turned to face him, sliding from beneath his arm.

“This is going to be a disaster. We’ll both be free to leave in two weeks.” She sounded relieved. “We’ll go about our separate lives, me to pursue my art and you to do whatever it is you’ll do next. My mother’s trial will probably be over. She’ll swoop in and bully my grandmother into a safer environment with people who’ll watch over her. It’ll be for the best, but it’ll break her heart.” She turned toward the stairs.

“Wait.” He reached for her hand. “You want Rose to live here forever?”

Her brows furrowed. “If it was possible, yes. I can’t see her living anywhere else. Can you?”

“I can.” He tugged her closer until their feet were almost touching. Not because he intended to kiss her, but because upheaval in a family was hard. She might need a supportive hug. One friend to another. “I can see her staging a production of
South Pacific
in a retirement center.”

Emma’s grin was reward enough for not kissing her. His hands were only sliding up her arms to make their good-night hug quicker.

Emma’s grin faded. “Will?” A whisper.

His hands reached her shoulders. His fingers traced along her collarbone, coming to rest on her neck. All he had to do was drop his arms around her shoulders to give her that friendly hug.

Instead, his fingers reached upward until his palms cupped her cheeks.

“Will?” Emma whispered again, her dark eyes luminous in the porch light.

He leaned closer. A hug and a kiss on the cheek. An appropriate good-night between friends.

Her eyes drifted closed and he experienced his first twinge of trouble.

His lips brushed hers. A light caress. Still chaste. Still friendly.

Except he couldn’t seem to draw his mouth away from hers.

And Emma’s arms slid tentatively around his waist.

Their kiss danced on the edge of exploration. On a sigh and the hint of a dream he’d once had.

The front door opened, dousing them in light. “Emma?”

Emma sprang back and darted up the stairs. She called good-night over her shoulder, her footsteps echoing on wood, echoing in his heart.

Now he had his answer.

If he never kissed Emma again, it’d be one of his great regrets on his deathbed.

* * *

W
HEN
W
ILL
GOT
home, the heat of Emma’s kiss a fresh memory on his lips, his father was ensconced in his recliner reading the paper as if everything was normal. As if Will’s world hadn’t been tilted even further off its axis.