High Plains Hearts (6 page)

She warmed to her subject, becoming more enthusiastic by the minute. When she finally began to run down, she realized he was staring at her, his chin cupped in his hand. “Wow,” was all he said.

Tess fussed unnecessarily with her napkin. “Well, it is a topic near and dear to my heart. I’m a downtown girl, you know. I honestly don’t see what the appeal is in the south end. Not a single tree grew there naturally, except for some old homesteader’s shelterbelt trees that escaped the ax, and they exist only through the good graces of who knows what.”

“The End is safer. It’s cleaner. We have a lot more traffic out there. I see an excitement there that I honestly don’t sense downtown.”

She had done it. She had unwittingly insulted him and his original business decision. She quickly tried to make amends. “I’m sorry. I don’t get over there very often—” She bit her tongue to keep from speaking the rest of the thought, that she purposely avoided that part of town.

“That’s all right. I know there’s a solid division in the city between downtown and the End. Each thinks it has the advantage over the other.”

She nodded. “Considering how you feel about the End, why are you considering bringing Panda’s downtown?”

The vigor came back into his demeanor. “I do appreciate the historic setting of downtown. And I like the mayor. If anyone can make this new project work, she most certainly can. It would be exciting to be part of it.”

“But—?” she prompted.

“But I have no assurances—and a lot of questions. What if she loses the next election? What if she can’t get the rest of the business community behind her? What if, despite the city’s best intentions, the whole thing flops? What then?”

They weren’t questions she hadn’t heard and fielded a hundred times, but for once, the ready, pat answers wouldn’t serve. It became real, this chance they were asking businesspeople to take. Invest in downtown. Invest their money. Probably most of it. And with nothing to promise in return.

Now the doubt had a face and a name. Jake’s. And her answer became vitally important. She sent a quick prayer heavenward, asking for guidance in what she was about to say to him.

She chose her words carefully. “Beginning your business in the End was a risk. You had no guarantee it’d go.”

He shook his head. “No. It was a risk, but not a great one. There was no other coffeehouse, and the time was right. The only risk now if I stay there is that the appeal may fall off in a few years. But then the challenge would be to adapt.”

“Okay,” she conceded. “Let’s talk about moving Panda’s.”

“On the downside,” he said, “I risk losing my established customers.”

“No,” she argued, “they’ll follow you.”

“Maybe, but a great number of them will simply move to another place in the End. I no longer have the monopoly on coffeehouses out there.”

“But you would downtown,” she pointed out. “No other place there is like Panda’s.”

“And, on the other hand,” he continued, “although I might lose some in the move, a significant number downtown would come to Panda’s, not just businesspeople like you, but those who live there.”

“What you want is a guarantee,” she stated at last, sensing an impasse. “You don’t lose anything, but you gain substantially.”

He grinned. “Well, that would be nice. Is the downtown commission by any chance offering something like that?”

“Nice try, but no.”

“So what do you say to me, to make me bring Panda’s downtown?”

She deliberated before she spoke. “I say, follow your heart. You’re right—it’s going to be exciting for the downtown in the next couple of years. If you want to be part of that excitement, then join us. But don’t do it if your heart isn’t in it 100 percent. This is going to be a long-range commitment, and you need to be willing to be in it for the duration. About the last thing this project needs is people who will fall away as it begins rolling along.”

“I understand all of that,” he said uneasily, “but is it enough for me to be committed to the project? Isn’t there more to it? I do have my own financial future to consider. I don’t have a wife and children now, but I hope to someday. I don’t want to go into that relationship in debt.”

The thought of him married and with a family brought a shimmer to Tess’s heart.

“I guess,” she said at last, “it’s like a lot of things in life. You’ve got to have faith. There are no guarantees about how things will turn out, but there you have it. Faith. That’s what it’s going to take.”

His dark eyes met hers. “I bought her at your store, remember?”

She smiled at him, glad for the way the tone of the conversation had quickly lightened. “How could I ever forget?”

“I’m wondering if Faith belongs downtown or if there’s a place for her out on the End.”

She heard the seeking in his words. “Faith can be anywhere, Jake. Anywhere.”

“Even in a coffeehouse on the other end of town? Guarding a roaster that’s held together by a wire coat hanger and duct tape?”

“Even there,” she said.

T
ess put aside her turmoil-bound thoughts and turned her attention to her dinner. The pasta was just as wonderful as she’d hoped it would be, the sauce perfectly spiced with basil and a hint of garlic, and an array of pine nuts sprinkled over the top.

The server brought a tray laden with desserts of all kinds: caramel cheesecake dripping with honeyed sauce, apple pie with a crust that flaked at the slightest motion, and the piéce de résistance: something called chocolate truffle elegance. Neither Tess nor Jake could resist it, but their stomachs ached in protest at the thought, so they agreed to share a slice.

Soon it arrived, a heart-shaped deep chocolate concoction, which Tess realized was exactly the color of Jake’s eyes, dusted with pale pink-tinted powdered sugar and drizzled with an even darker chocolate sauce. Atop it were two cherries perched on a pure white cloud of whipped cream.

“How many calories do you suppose this bite has?” Tess groaned as she reluctantly destroyed the picturesque presentation. “Thousands and thousands?”

“Like you care,” Jake retorted, his eyes dancing. “You probably won’t have to spend the next month at the gym doing penance for this.”

“Well—”

“If you’re about to tell me about the lucky metabolism you inherited, can it, lady.” He growled menacingly at her. “I inherited a metabolism meant to carry me through the endlessly harsh winters of my prairie ancestors when there wasn’t anything to eat but a buffalo tail and a dust bunny. Why, I could live on this little snack alone for a month or two, if I didn’t move too much.”

“ ‘Little snack’? I can’t eat another bite, although it does seem criminal to leave even a crumb. It’s so good.”

He leaned over and whispered conspiratorially, “Wrap it up in the napkin and put it in your purse.”

“That does it!” Tess wiped her mouth and leaned back, trying to stop the laughter that bubbled up.

He signaled to the server, and when she came over he murmured some low words to her that Tess didn’t catch. Undoubtedly something about the bill.

As they stood up to leave, the server returned with a small foil package shaped like a heart. “No way!” Tess cried. “You didn’t.”

“Maybe I did, and maybe I didn’t,” he said, guiding her toward the door where the valet was pulling up with his car. “Just keep that pretty little nose out of it.”

A few people were outside, their voices carrying clearly in the night air. Somewhere in the distance, a cow mooed, and Tess laughed. “A not-so-subtle reminder that we are not alone,” she said to Jake as he held open the car door for her. “No matter how elegant the surroundings, no matter how fluffy the whipped cream atop the chocolate truffle elegance, there will be a reminder that somewhere a big old cow is responsible for that whipped cream!”

Once they had topped that slight rise that constituted the county hill, they were again left in the pool of absolute night sky. Jake drove for a few minutes before pulling over to the side.

“What’s wrong?” Tess couldn’t keep the alarm out of her voice.

“Not what’s wrong—what’s right. Come on—let’s go.” Jake turned off the motor of his car.

“Go? I’m stuffed, Jake! I can’t walk anywhere!”

“We’re not going anywhere. Come on!” He opened his door and stepped out.

“Okay.” Tess undid her seat belt and joined Jake at the side of the car.

“Look at this,” he said, his arm sweeping around them. “Is this magnificent or what? Just look at all those stars. How many are there? We don’t know. All we know is there are lots of them and they’re beautiful, and that’s enough.”

He was right. The stars had never glittered so brightly, she was sure, as they did that night. There were stars behind stars, and the more she looked, the more she saw.

“There’s Orion,” he said, pointing to the row of three stars that made up the hunter’s belt. “And the Big Dipper, and the Little Dipper, of course. And there’s Cassiopeia, right over that big tree—can you see it? The celestial queen on her throne.”

She leaned against him as the frigid air crept in around her coat.

“Cold?” he asked.

“A bit.”

“Good.” Jake grinned as he held her closely to him. With his arm wrapped around her, she basked in the warmth of their togetherness.

The sensation of absolute romance swept over her and through her. She felt light-headed, almost giddy, ready to dance, to sing.

How was he feeling right now? She stole a glance at him and discovered he was already looking at her.

“I really want to kiss you,” he said softly.

“Then do.”

Meteor showers probably fell that evening. That would explain the brilliant flashes and fireworks Tess saw, even through closed eyes.

“We’d better go,” Jake said at last as the kiss finally broke. She nodded, trying unsuccessfully to keep her teeth from chattering as the cold reasserted its icy grip.

He led her around to the passenger’s side of the car, and when she got in, he leaned over and fastened her seat belt.

“One more,” he said. “Just one.”

And he reverently laid a light kiss on her lips.

Conversation seemed unnecessary on the way back to town. He selected a radio station that played mellow orchestral music, which fit her mood precisely, and she rested her head against the glove-leather seat.

He had kissed her.

Over and over her mind replayed the scene, and with each replaying it just got better.

He had kissed her!

She was so engrossed in her happiness that she was surprised when the car came to a stop.

“Home, sweetheart.” His voice shook her back to reality.

He opened the car door for her and walked her to the side door of her house. He waited patiently as she fumbled in her purse for the key. On the other side of the door came a plaintive meow and frantic scratching.

“I think somebody missed you,” he said, his voice low in her ear.

“Usually she’s not this crazed,” Tess said as her fingers finally closed around the elusive key. “I hope nothing’s wrong.”

She opened the door, and the cat launched herself—not at Tess, but at Jake.

“What in the world is up with her?” Tess wondered aloud. Cora had never acted like that. She reached out to prevent the cat from attacking Jake, but to her astonishment Cora was rubbing against his arms and shoulders.

“Here, I’ll try to pry her off you,” she said. “She’s usually not like this. Actually she’s never been like this. I don’t know what’s gotten into her.”

He tossed her the foil-wrapped package from the restaurant. “Maybe it’s something she’s hoping to get into her.”

“Chocolate?” Tess asked. “She’s a cat. She can’t have—”

Cora jumped down from his grasp and pawed at Tess’s knees.

Tess opened the package and laughed. It held bits and pieces of salmon. “Would you by any chance like some salmon, sweetie?”

“They’re fillets that fell apart before cooking and couldn’t be used,” Jake explained, “so I asked them to save them.”

“That’s amazing. I didn’t know they’d do something like that.”

“Well, I may not own the place, but I do know the owner, and he’s a cat lover from way back. He saves these portions all the time. You just have to know to ask for them.”

He was extraordinary, no doubt about it.

“This is so sweet of you,” she said to him.

Jake cooed at the cat as he fed her the scraps. “Nothing but the best table scraps for this exquisite cat, right, Cora?”

The cat gazed lovingly at Jake.

Tess had to smile. “I have never seen that cat look so googly-eyed before, not even with a major dose of catnip under her belt.”

“I’m just trying to buy her affections. She’s an amazing cat, you know. I think she has definite celestial connections, and, let’s face it, we can use all the help we can get on that end.”

“I prefer to get my help through more traditional means,” Tess said quietly.

“More traditional means? Like what?” The question seemed almost throw-away; he asked it so offhandedly.

“Prayer.” The single word was barely more than a whisper.

“Ah.” He nodded but didn’t volunteer anything else. He toyed with Cora’s ear thoughtfully.

“It works.” She sounded more defensive than she had intended to so she tried to soften it. “It really does, you know.”

“Oh, I believe that.”

“I’m still somewhat befuddled,” she confessed. “Are you telling me you’re a Christian?”

“Of course I am,” he said. “I’ve been baptized, confirmed, the whole nine yards. I can still recite the Apostles’ Creed from memory. We had to learn it in membership classes in sixth grade.”

Her mind spun. She’d never been challenged like this before. Usually her conversations about religion were with people from Nativity, where everyone agreed on their terms.

“Are you active in your church?” she asked, teasing a salmon-stuffed Cora into activity with a fuzzy ball.

“No. Much of weekly trade comes from the post-church crowd, which begins early and lasts until shortly after lunch. I couldn’t make it to any of the services in town, I’m afraid, and definitely not to the ones at the church I grew up in.”

She asked which church that was, and when he named the largest, wealthiest church in town, she nodded. It was known for the strength of the pastoral care and its outreach projects specially designed to reach generally underserved groups; those targeted to college students, young parents, and single mothers were the best known among their many programs.