Dandelion Wishes (8 page)

Will didn’t budge, of course.

She’d have to find another time to talk to Emma about moving back to the apartment. The settlements from Emma’s insurance and the trucking company that owned the big rig involved in the collision would pay Tracy’s share of the rent until she was able to return to work. Whatever work someone with her challenges could get. She’d do anything to regain her independence.

Still, her hand hesitated on the doorknob. Her plan was contingent upon her liking whatever Emma had to say. What if Will was right? She’d seemed remorseful last night, but there could be more to Emma’s story. Details Tracy couldn’t forgive her for.

What if Emma heard her speak and didn’t want to be friends anymore?

Emma knocked again.

“If you’re not sure...” Will’s voice skated with cutting blades over her nerves. “Don’t let her in.”

Tracy clenched her teeth and turned the tarnished brass knob.

* * *

“T
RACY
, I’
VE
MISSED
you so much.” Emma sank into the couch beneath the dusty trout mounted on the wall. She set the shoebox on the cushion next to her.

Tracy looked young and rebellious. There was a set to her mouth, a slant to her sharp blue eyes and the bright orange T-shirt that used to fit her listed slightly toward one shoulder. Will stood guard a few feet away, his arms crossed over his chest, staring at Emma. He’d struck the exact same pose before her and Tracy’s prom, driving home from college just so he could try to put the fear of God into their dates. She’d felt his eyes upon her that night, too, and she’d burned with the feeling of feminine power. She would have burned with embarrassment to know what he’d really thought of her back then—reckless, irresponsible, a threat to the safety of his sister.

Today his gaze on Emma was so intense it threatened to ignite a fire in her veins. She was certain he didn’t intend to convey interest in her. It had to be her artistic, misdirected passion. She lifted her chin as if to tell him he couldn’t intimidate her and angled her body directly toward Tracy. “Do you remember the accident?”

Tracy’s apprehension swept through the room like a chill winter draft. She hunched on her dad’s brown leather recliner, the corners of her mouth drooping as she murmured, “Some.”

“I won’t recount the crash,” Emma was quick to reassure her.

Tracy’s shoulders went from rigid to merely tense.

“You have to know...I am so sorry.” Just saying the words nearly unbraided the ribbons of fear, worry and guilt that had bound Emma’s heart to her toes for six months. “We’d been on the road for a couple of hours. You were sleeping because...”

Tracy had met someone in Las Vegas and they’d gone to a late-night, private party. Emma was practically positive Tracy hadn’t told her brother about that.

Emma slid a glance in Will’s direction, but forced herself not to look at his face, afraid he’d realize she wasn’t about to tell the entire truth. Instead, she stared at his expensive running shoes. “Because I had kept you out late the night before.”

Her gaze slipped back to Tracy, whose cheeks were tinged pink.

“We’d driven through the Tehachapi mountains earlier and I started visualizing a grouping of snowy peaks I’d seen.” The striations of gray. The shimmer of marbled granite beneath the delicate snowflake-like blanket of snow. Just thinking about the landscape caused Emma’s hands to tremble. She laced her fingers together, not wanting Tracy to know she bore hidden scars from the accident. Her artistic block was nothing compared to the challenges Tracy faced. “You know how some landscapes call to me.”

Tracy gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

Over by the kitchen, Will sniffed, as if trying to catch the scent of what Emma wasn’t saying.

Emma knotted her fingers tighter. “I didn’t fall asleep. I remember a billboard we passed. I remember the song playing on the radio. I remember seeing the mountains like a picture ahead of me on the road. But all of a sudden the truck was there and—”

Tracy swallowed thickly. The blood had drained from her face.

“And then it happened.” Emma’s fingers convulsed as they’d done on the wheel that day. “They flew you to one hospital and drove me to another. The worst of my injuries wouldn’t show up for days.” She hadn’t meant to mention that.

Out of the corner of her eye, Emma saw Will cock his head.

“Your. Injuries?”

Silently cursing her blabbing mouth, Emma chose her words carefully. “My injuries are nothing compared to yours.” So she’d lost her talent. That was inconsequential compared to Tracy losing her ability to speak fluently. Emma was desperate to make amends. Someday she’d tell Tracy what she’d lost. But not today. “By the time I was released and arrived at your hospital, I couldn’t get in, but I tried to see you.” Emma fought to keep the desperation out of her voice, afraid she was failing. “And I raised money for your medical bills.”

“We used your funds to establish a charitable foundation in Tracy’s name for those with aphasia who can’t afford speech therapy.” Will stared at his shoes, as if he was reluctant to admit that Emma had done something good.

“That’s nice.” With a millionaire for a brother, Tracy had no need for financial aid, but Emma had wanted to do something. She handed the shoebox to Tracy. “And I kept coming back every week, even when they transferred you to Greenhaven.”

Tracy placed the cardboard box on the coffee table and lifted the lid. “Oh.” She gave a small smile, picking up one of the tiny dolls. Farmer Carina. Her hair was the same straw blond as Tracy’s.

Emma’s smile had never felt so big. “I brought a different one to the hospital every Sunday.”

Tracy turned accusing eyes on Will. “Why. Keep. This. From—”

“The doctors didn’t want you upset.”

“You. Should. Have—”

Will tossed a hand in Emma’s direction as easily as he’d tossed aside Tracy’s wishes. “If I’d asked you, I’d risk upsetting you.”

“Say. Sorry.”

Listening to Tracy’s struggle to speak, comparing her halting cadence to how she used to speak, magnified Emma’s guilt.

Maybe Will was right. Maybe Tracy did need more therapy before she tried to resume her life in the city. People could be impatient and cruel. They’d judge Tracy’s intelligence by her speech pattern. Tracy would hate it. And Will knew it.

The air in the room thickened with regrets and what-might-have-beens. This was why Will had brought Tracy back to Harmony Valley. Not only to protect her from Emma, but to protect her fragile ego from the rest of the world. The pace here was slower. The people more understanding than those ladder-climbing, backstabbing executives at the ad agency. Emma felt like hugging Will for putting Tracy’s needs above his own.

And then he had to ruin it. “If I say I’m sorry, Emma will know I don’t mean it. I did what I thought was right. And I’d do it again.”

That coldhearted, pigheaded—

“I can’t. Wait. To—”

“To get out of here. Yeah, I know.” There was an undercurrent of sadness in Will’s voice that made it hard to remember he was coldhearted and pigheaded. “Can we have this discussion after your next round of therapy?”

“Will!” Tracy dropped the doll back into the box and bunched her fingers into a fist.

Emma remembered Tracy brimming with emotion and talking a mile a minute. Blurting out joyful observations on life. Blasting her brother when he tried to boss her around. Her speech may have become more deliberate, but the way Tracy poured emotion into her staccato sentences was exactly the same.

Emma reached across the coffee table to cover Tracy’s skeletal fist with her palm. “You can do anything you want. That hasn’t changed. And neither has Will’s overprotectiveness.”

Tracy’s smile was so powerful it punctured the thick layer of guilt Emma had been wrapped in for months. She could feel it deflate, draining out of her until her limbs felt featherlight and her heartbeat calmed.

“What do you want to do?” Tracy wasn’t ready to face the fast-paced world yet. Emma softened her tone, gentled her voice and tried to lessen the blow for Tracy. “We can go back to the city. But Will is right about one thing. We should wait until you finish more therapy.”

“No!” Tracy and Will protested in unison. They exchanged frustrated scowls.

Tracy yanked her hand from beneath Emma’s.

“But...” Emma looked from Will to Tracy, trying to interpret their moods. And failing. “Will said you had more therapy to complete.”

Will loomed over Emma. “She’s not going back to the city. Not with you. Not ever.”

“No. Therapy.” Tracy’s face scrunched in horror. “No.” She ran to the back of the house, slamming the door to her bedroom so hard it rattled the walls, rattling Emma’s hopes for reconciliation, leaving her in a numb, ear-ringing state of paralysis.

Things had been going so well. Why had they fallen apart?

Emma stared at her hands, replaying the conversation in her head.

“Do you see what you’ve done?” Will held the door open. She hadn’t noticed him move.

“What I’ve done?” Emma’s lungs labored in quick, ragged spurts, fueling her outrage. “I see what you’ve done. Tracy doesn’t have to say a word when you’re around. You complete every sentence for her. You said she needed more therapy. Oh, I fell right into that one, didn’t I? What therapy is going to help when you’re acting as her crutch?”

“Leave. Now.”

Emma stood with a swish of her long skirt and walked toward the doorway. “This isn’t over.”

She barely made it out before he slammed the door at her back. “None of it is over.”

CHAPTER NINE

W
ILL
WAS
DROWNING
in cats.

A big orange tomcat with scarred ears curled on his lap. A delicate gray tabby perched on his shoulder. A spindly, purring Siamese with one eye rubbed against his arm. A black cat leaped onto his knees. Kittens of all sizes and colors tumbled around his ankles.

After kicking Emma out of the house, Will had tried to talk to Tracy, but she’d locked her bedroom door and wouldn’t come out or speak to him. Hadn’t he warned her letting Emma in was a bad idea? He couldn’t let it matter that Emma’s sincerity and mysterious injuries had touched him and also nudged his curiosity. But Emma didn’t have to deal with the fallout of her actions. He did.

If only Tracy could hear the Morse code message pounding at his temples:
Emma was trouble. Emma was trouble.
And he was afraid they hadn’t seen the last of her. Emma was too stubborn to go away.

A fluffy white kitten bit into Will’s shoelace, tumbled onto its back and kicked at the lace with ferocious pink-padded hind feet.

Will chuckled.

There looked to be at least twenty cats in the living room, sleeping, scuffling and stalking. It was simultaneously heartwarming and claustrophobic.

The bundle of fluff that had captured his shoelace pulled with such determination his shoe came untied.

Will chuckled again.

“I can’t live in a big city.” Felix stared at Will through platter-thick glasses. He was a retired fire chief from Healdsburg, formerly the chief of Harmony Valley’s volunteer fire department. Now the big, burly man with a heart of gold rescued cats. “Big cities won’t let you have more than a couple cats. This winery of yours won’t hurt my rescues, will it?”

“No.” At least Will hoped not. If it came to that, he’d fight for Felix’s right to rescue as many cats as he could.

As if sensing Will had fudged an answer, the Siamese nipped Will’s biceps. It was only a love bite, but Will picked the cat up to prevent more chomping.

The Siamese snuggled against his chest, ivory fur as soft as mink. It purred as loud as a small motorboat.

“I try to find homes for my rescues, but that’s not always possible.” With hands the size of footballs, Felix picked up the ball of fur at Will’s feet, disengaged its claws from Will’s shoelace and cuddled it in the crook of his thick neck.

“I’d love to see you at the next town council meeting.” Will checked his watch. It was after one-thirty. He started divesting himself of cats, revealing a coat of cat hair on his jeans and polo shirt. “Bringing the city back to life will mean more services. Maybe even a vet, seeing as how Dr. Wentworth wants to retire.” He tied his shoe before traversing the feline labyrinth to the door, the Siamese close at his heels.

“A new vet would be a dream come true.” Felix followed him out, shutting the Siamese in. “Oh, there’s Emma. She used to play with my granddaughter, Frances, in the summer. Hullo, Emma! Can I interest you in a kitten?”

Will turned to see Emma walking up the driveway, flashing a smooth smile that kicked his heart into a new gear and promised trouble. The body-hugging dark blue T-shirt and ankle-length, blue Indian-print skirt she wore swayed in tandem with her long, dark hair. There was something about Emma that demanded his attention and he couldn’t figure out what it was, no matter how long he looked at her.

Emma greeted Felix with a hug, careful not to dislodge the old man’s kitten. “No pets allowed in my building. So no type of animal, be it dog or cat or
louse—
” she narrowed her eyes at Will “—would be a good fit for me.”

A less perceptive man wouldn’t notice the hungry glint of payback in her eyes. A man with more common sense might have worried about the coincidence of her appearance. Will just wanted to move on to his next appointment.

“I was hoping you’d finally changed your mind and decided to settle down in Harmony Valley with Rose,” Felix said.

“Nope. I’m still living in the city.”

The Siamese cat yowled behind Felix’s screen door, as if wanting in on whatever Emma had planned.

“Good news, Emma.” Felix glowed. “Will says there’s a chance we’ll get a new vet if the town council rezones the Henderson property.”

“Have you heard the details of Will’s plans?” Emma smirked at Will. Then her gaze slid casually to Felix’s immaculately kept white arts-and-craft house with a wraparound porch. “They’re tearing down the Henderson house and barn. Oh, and they presented plans for a subdivision. One hundred houses, right, Will?”

Will clamped his mouth closed. He’d forgotten Felix was involved in the Preservation Society. Edwin had mentioned it in his dossier.

“Really?” Felix’s expression hardened. “A cat chewed my phone cable. I’ll have to get a new one so I can stay up to date on the news.”

Will attempted a smile. “Thanks to Rose, we’ve realized we need to preserve and revitalize existing structures. But the important things are the return of services, not necessarily how we get them.”

“Bring your architectural plans by and let me be the judge,” Felix said coolly.

In less than a minute Emma had undermined Will’s efforts. He wanted to strangle her. Instead, he extended his hand toward Felix. “Hope to see you at the meeting on Monday.”

As Felix returned to his cats, Emma walked with Will down the driveway. Not surprisingly, clouds gathered overhead. Emma most likely brought rain clouds wherever she went.

“Weren’t you going to visit Felix?” he asked with forceful cheer.

“I did. Now I’m going to visit someone else.” Emma purred as innocently as the one-eyed Siamese had, right before it bit him.

The suspicion he’d ignored when she’d first shown up resurfaced. Her appearance at Felix’s house wasn’t a coincidence. Will brushed cat hair off his clothing, creating a whirlwind of flying fur. “You’re not coming with me.”

“I’m not
with
you. But I’m going to go...this way.” She turned left, heading south on Madison Avenue. “Have you talked to Mr. Mionetti lately?”

“No.” It was his next destination.
How had she known?

“I’d love to catch up with Mr. Mionetti.” Emma’s chin was in the air, her gaze fixed firmly ahead. The bandage on her forehead peeked beneath her bangs, as if proclaiming she needed looking after just as much as Tracy did.

He was reminded of the time Emma had talked Tracy into floating down the Harmony River the spring after his mother died. It had been too early in the season, and the river had been running too fast. They’d hit a patch of rapids and Tracy had broken her ankle on a jutting rock. His dad had driven Tracy to the hospital. Will had been tasked with walking Emma home. He’d told her exactly what he thought of her irresponsible influence on his sister. Emma hadn’t even defended herself. She’d simply walked with her nose in the air.

And here was Emma causing trouble again. She’d undermined him with Felix and she clearly planned to do the same with Mr. Mionetti.

Will didn’t believe in pussyfooting around. “You can forget whatever scheme you’ve cooked up and head on home.”

Her chin inched higher and she opened her mouth to speak, but Will wasn’t finished.

“I’d like to apologize to Rose. I hadn’t realized how much our plans would upset her.”

Emma blew out a puff of air. “Conspicuously absent in your little speech was an apology to me for banning me from Tracy’s bedside.”

“I’m not going to apologize for that. You proved this morning that I was justified in keeping you away. You upset Tracy.”

“You were as much to blame for upsetting her as I was.” She pinned him with a direct gaze that wouldn’t let him deny it. “For years, you’ve been trying to control Tracy’s life and, for now, you’ve succeeded. Which is probably why you’ve moved on to controlling Harmony Valley. You think you can change things here any way you like, regardless of the wishes of our friends and neighbors. Is that what becoming a millionaire does to people like you? Does money give you the right to be in control of everything?”

“My fortune has nothing to do with this. I’m trying to improve the standard of living here and save a dying town.” With effort, he kept his cool. He could reason with Emma all day, until she fell silent, until she fell prey to his logic or to his kiss. A kiss would be quicker.

Where had that crazy thought come from?

Will stumbled. Just because he was losing his mind didn’t mean he had to lose command of his limbs or his lips.

Emma marched on, oblivious to his torment. “Like cementing over the town’s heritage is so honorable we should all bow down before you. I think not.”

For one moment, Will considered bypassing Mr. Mionetti’s house and heading back to town. He’d always known Emma and Tracy had a special bond, but he’d only seen the unpredictable, unreliable Emma, the one who made him feel justified in keeping her away. But this Emma, this grown-up Emma, made him see her as a beautiful, compassionate woman—whose stubbornness wore at his patience.

They turned at the street’s only weeping willow, walking down a long, straight lane bound by rusty barbed wire, gnarled, tilted fence posts and olive trees. The lane bordered a pasture and ended at a beige ranch home surrounded by a white picket fence. The sheep in the pasture retreated, bleating nervously as he and Emma passed.

“I can take it from here,” Will said. “It’s Tuesday. Shouldn’t you be working?”

“I cleared off my calendar so I could help you today.”

“Help me?” He’d sooner accept help from a rattlesnake. At least they gave warning before a strike. “How do you propose to help me?”

“You’ll see.” She grinned.

A shaggy sheepdog behind the picket fence began barking at their approach. His deep, warning bark was strained, perhaps by his collar, which was connected to a taut chain.

Will slowed. He had a deep respect for the territoriality of farm dogs, having been treed by a German shepherd in his youth.

Emma didn’t seem at all worried. She opened the gate and walked in, crossing the lawn to the dog.

Will followed, closing the gate behind them.

“Hey, Shep.” Emma knelt near the beast, who still halfheartedly barked in Will’s direction. There was a metallic click. Then Emma stood, holding the free end of Shep’s chain. “Oops.”

Shep shook himself off, taking two drunken steps sideways. Will knew in one heart-stuttering moment when the large dog realized he was free. Shep’s eyes locked on to Will like he was hungry and Will was a meaty soup bone. With a bellowing bark, Shep leaped forward.

Will opened the gate, stepped through and closed it again.

Shep loped along in slow motion, plopping to the ground in an exhausted heap on the other side of the gate. His eyes were rheumy and his muzzle a peppery gray. He panted as if he’d run uphill for miles, not twenty feet of flat ground.

“Good boy, Shep.” Emma had trailed after the dog and bent to scratch him behind his ears. “Lucky you. Shep doesn’t move like he used to.”

Will desperately wanted to wipe that superior expression off Emma’s face. He was torn between the best way to do so—wrap his hands around her slender neck or claim domination of her mouth with his.

His hands fisted. His lips pressed together.

“What’s all this racket?” Mr. Mionetti walked out. The old man was beanpole-thin and looked as if a strong wind could blow him over. “Who’s there? And why is Shep loose?”

The sheepdog shuffled over to his reedy master.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Mionetti. It’s me, Emma Willoughby, Rose Cascia’s granddaughter.” Emma slid a sly glance Will’s way. “Do you remember Will Jackson? Ben Jackson’s son? He has an appointment with you today. He wants to build a winery on the Henderson property.”

The urge to strangle became more urgent.

“Heard about that. Don’t like wineries.” Mr. Mionetti’s lips rippled into a thin, wrinkly frown. “Every year or so another winery comes around here wanting to plant their vines on my land. As if I don’t make a good living with my sheep. Some people are just plain dumb.”

Like Will, who hadn’t paid as much attention as Emma had to Harmony Valley residents when he lived here. He’d been too busy honing his computer skills.

Emma’s grin stretched to annoying proportions.

“Don’t need to speak to another winery flunky.” Mr. Mionetti barked his dismissal louder than Shep.

Leaving Will to wonder how badly his winery chances with Mr. Mionetti could possibly be hurt if he duct taped Emma to the weeping willow at the end of the lane.

* * *

“I
LIKE
THE
color yellow,” Emma said as she and Will walked up Mr. Mionetti’s lane past sheep and olive trees under an increasingly cloudy sky. Even a rain cloud couldn’t dim the thrill of thwarting Will at two houses. Victory put a bounce in her step. Taunting him about those yellow Post-it flags she’d seen back at Mr. B.’s house was sweet icing on her delicious lemon cake. “Some people think yellow is indecisive and middle ground. But I think yellow is a sunny, decisive color that’s averse to change.”

“Did you break into Edwin’s house? Or did he let you in?” Will’s anger filled every syllable. His hand darted toward Emma’s arm.

She danced out of reach. “I’ll never tell, and the great thing about Harmony Valley is your cell phone doesn’t work here. So you can’t call Mr. B. or your friends until you find a landline. You’re going to Snarky Sam’s next, right?” She laughed. For the first time in a long time, her laughter reached deep into the recesses of her guilt-ridden soul.

And then fat raindrops started to fall, as if even Mother Nature was against her.

They ran for the broad weeping willow at the end of the drive.

“I’d forgotten how fickle the weather is here.” Will parted the curtain of branches beneath the willow just as it started to pour, holding them open for Emma, then turning away once she was inside. He crossed his arms over his chest in the male version of a pout.

“It’ll pass in a few minutes.” She hoped that was true. It was a long walk home without an umbrella.

“I can wait. I’ve got a few minutes before going to Sam’s and time after that before I have drinks with Mayor Larry.”