Love Is All Around (24 page)

What was he doing here? When she’d suggested using him to make Ruthann more acceptable to Randy’s momma, she hadn’t meant to actually use him, just mention him. Patsy crumpled the program into a ball. The tight feeling around her heart quickly loosened to the point of pounding. Randy’s mother said something to her, but she couldn’t hear her over the sound of blood rushing through her body. She smiled vaguely and nodded her head.

They were coming over. She could handle this. She concentrated on smoothing the wrinkles out of her program.

“Good morning, Mrs. Jensen,” Ruthann greeted them. “Mrs. Jackson, you’ve met Will Barnes, haven’t you?”

Patsy could feel Will’s gaze on the top of her head, but she refused to look up. She opened her program and studied the schedule for today’s sermon.

“Patsalee,” Granny called her. “Scoot down so these two can get in.”

Patsy glanced up at Ruthann, who was busy complimenting Randy’s mother on her dress. Will slid between the rows, pausing between Patsy and Mrs. Jensen.

“You don’t mind, do you?” he asked Patsy. He was dressed in navy slacks and a crisp cotton dress shirt. At least he was covered today. She risked a peek at his feet. Shiny black shoes reflected up at her. Yep, he was covered.

“Patsy?” he asked, one brow raised, his expression revealing nothing of what had passed between them just hours earlier.

Forced to look at him, all Patsy could do was shake her head and slide down, giving him room to sit. Ruthann took the seat next to Randy’s mother, leaving Patsy at the end between Luke and Will.

“You look nice today,” he murmured, his lips brushing her ear.

The hairs on her neck unfurled.

“Thank you.” She grabbed a hymnal and began searching for the first song.

“Here.” Taking the book, he flipped it to the right page and handed it back to her.

“Thanks.” She pretended to study the words, but they blurred and mingled until they were nothing more than black smudgy lines.

He leaned toward her. “You’re very polite today too.”

She could smell his cologne, or maybe it was soap. She couldn’t decide, but it was woodsy and natural-smelling, and brought back memories of snuggling with him in his bed. She looked at him with wide eyes. He was staring back, his eyes dark and a little sad.

“You smell good.” The words slipped out of her, and she was embarrassed immediately, but he smiled and said, “You too.”

The congregation stood up to sing. Patsy and Will stayed seated until Ruthann nudged Will with her elbow, propelling him upward. Patsy popped up after them.

When the song was done, and they returned to their seats, he seemed to have moved closer. His leg was pressed against hers, just like the night at Gordie’s when he’d caressed her thigh. She wanted him to touch her now, to run his arm along the back of her seat. She wanted to feel his fingers at the nape of her neck, something, anything, just a touch.

This was wrong. Here she was in church, and she hadn’t heard a word of the sermon. She was too busy lusting after the man next to her. Every time the congregation stood, she tried to wiggle away from Will, but somehow once they sat, he was again attached to her side. She stared straight ahead, trying to ignore the electricity that sizzled between them and the images that rushed through her brain each time she caught a whiff of his scent.

After two hours, the reverend called for sinners to come forth and be saved. And Patsy sent up a special plea that they all keep their sins to themselves for another week. There was plenty of time for salvation, and she was already suffering through the fires of hell. She’d be seared for sure if she had to sit through anyone else’s redemption.

When the service ended, and the preacher strode down the aisle to the front doors of the church, Patsy hopped from her seat, mumbling a small prayer of thanks.

Will followed her. “I didn’t know you were so religious,” he murmured. He exhaled softly, blowing warm air into her ear. She shivered.

“There’s a lot about me you don’t know.” Patsy tilted her head to the side, away from his lips.

“Not so much anymore.” Will grabbed her hand and made small circles with his thumb in her palm.

It was an innocent move that sent a bolt of awareness searing up Patsy’s arm. She tugged her hand free. She couldn’t let him touch her, not even slightly. Her body was playing traitor, giving her emotions away with every trembling breath.

Unaware of Patsy’s sinful thoughts, Mrs. Jensen reached past Ruthann to grab Will’s arm. With a guilty look at Will’s back, Patsy squeezed past Luke to escape the pew from the opposite end. While some women gossiped about Merle Haggard and water parks, she waited for Will to be dragged out of the church by Randy’s mother, Ruthann and Luke following close behind.

When she returned to her seat, Granny was waiting for her. “He’s a looker, he is,” Granny commented.

“I guess.” Patsy picked up her purse and returned their hymnals to the shelf. “If you like that type.” The books snapped against the pew in front of them.

Granny grinned at her. “Oh, you like that type. Don’t be thinking you can fool me. Fool yourself all you like, but you won’t be fooling me.”

Patsy pushed past her. “You ready to go or what? We don’t have all day.”

“You got that right, sis. Time’s a-wasting. You better get a move on, or someone else will.”

Patsy left her grandmother to find her own way out. Granny didn’t know what she was talking about. Patsy wasn’t fooling herself. She knew all too well she liked Will’s type, but that didn’t change a thing. Some things were more important than sweaty palms and pounding hearts. Patsy had to stay focused and remember that. Frowning, she joined her parents near the back of the church.

“Where’s your grandmother?” Patsy’s father rolled back and forth on the balls of his feet. “If we don’t leave now, we’ll be sitting outside the Dogwood Inn for thirty minutes waiting on a table.”

“I think she just went out the front,” Patsy’s mother replied.

Patsy tagged behind them, out the wide oak doors and down the concrete steps. Granny stood near the street, talking with Will.

What was she up to now? As Patsy and her parents approached, Granny nodded their way and hobbled toward them.

“What were you talking to Will about?” Patsy’s mother asked.

“Nothing important.” Granny leaned on her cane and waved at Will. “Just a little business.”

Patsy raised an eyebrow, but before she could question what kind of business Granny had with anyone, never mind Will Barnes, Patsy’s father interrupted, “Let’s get a move on. It’s a quarter after already.”

Patsy followed her family down the sidewalk. First Tilde and now Granny, what kind of business could they both have with Will?

o0o

Patsy tossed onto her side. The beaver was back. This time he had escaped his coating of goo, but wove between her ankles while she fought her way toward the Daisy Creek County courthouse. Something held her back, like the air was too thick to move through. Patsy stroked with her arms, crawling through a haze. She had to get to the courthouse to Will, who stood waiting with a giant bouquet of daisies.

In her path, Glenn munched on a chef salad, tossing bits of lettuce and boiled egg out of the bowl and yelling, “What’s wrong with you? There isn’t anything worth staying here for.”

The beaver leaped onto her chest, pressing her down with his weight. His wet nose jamming into her eye startled her awake.

Pugnacious straddled Patsy’s neck, her nose moving from Patsy’s left eye to her right. “Get off me.” Patsy picked the little dog up and set her on the mattress. “You about scared me to death.”

Two round marble eyes blinked back at her.

“Do you need something? You want to go out?”

Pugnacious grinned, hopped down from the bed, and sat by the door, waiting. After pulling on her robe and stumbling to the back door to let her dog out, Patsy made coffee and returned to her room.

She had to get Will out of her brain. He was interfering with her sleep and her life. Avoiding him wasn’t working. Daisy Creek was just too small. There was no help for it. She was going to have to address the problem head on. Seek him out.

She stared at her blank computer screen. She also had to finish this website. The sooner she got done with it, the better she’d feel, and, the closer she’d be to leaving Daisy Creek. Then Will wouldn’t be an issue.

She powered up her PC and grabbed her digital camera. Time to download photos.

A few hours later, Tilde’s van pulled up in front. The thing chugged like a diesel tractor. Patsy pushed aside her curtains to peer out. Her aunt popped out of the front and flung open the side door.

Guess Will had his Beamer back. There she went again, thinking of Will. Furrowing her brow, she concentrated on her aunt’s movements.

Tilde rummaged around inside her van, setting a strange assortment of old junk onto the sidewalk: a couple of washboards, a beat-up kitchen tabletop, and a couple of dirty cardboard boxes. Patsy shook her head. It was a wonder the woman could see to drive. Popping out of the vehicle, her aunt tugged a box of old picture frames out of her way, then clambered back inside.

As her aunt moved around, something teetered and fell onto the ground—one of Patsy’s father’s chainsaw coons. Now why did Tilde have that?

Tilde emerged laden with a stack of baskets. She shook her head when she saw the coon. Arms full, she stepped over the statue and walked to the front door.

Patsy saved her work and turned off the computer. Her aunt was up to something, and Patsy wanted to know what. Pulling on shorts and a University of Missouri T-shirt, she headed to the kitchen.

Tilde, Granny, and Pugnacious were gathered around the table. On the white Formica sat an assortment of baskets.

“I like the idea of this one, but the craftsmanship’s wanting a bit.” Tilde held up a basket designed to sit on a staircase.

“How about this one, it’s wove nice and tight.” Granny held out a round basket about the size of a dinner plate.

Tilde took it from her. “Yeah, but there’s nothing special about it. What’s gonna make someone pay good money for this thing?” She shook the basket by the handle.

“What are you two doing?” Patsy wandered up and selected a miniature basket that fit in the palm of her hand.

Granny looked down her nose at Patsy. “Nothing you’d be interested in, no fancy city stuff here.”

“Don’t be so rough on the girl. She might have an idea.” Tilde pushed a chair toward her niece. “Take a seat. I can use some ideas.”

“What is all this?” Patsy sat down and pointed to the pile of baskets.

“It’s my new job.” Tilde held up an oak hamper. “What about this?”

Granny shook her head. “It’d never last. Look how they got those handles attached.”

“Your new job? You’re what, selling baskets?” Patsy asked.

“Not directly.” Tilde dropped the hamper back on the floor. Pugnacious twisted over and shoved her small body inside.

“Those tiny things are awful sweet, but I don’t rightly know what you’d use ‘em for.” Granny pointed to the petite basket Patsy still held.

Patsy glanced down at the basket. It was sweet. “Wedding favors? Maybe fill them with little bags of rice or flowers or something?” Patsy loved the idea of tiny baskets filled with daisies dotting reception tables, and these would be perfect. Realizing the direction her thoughts had taken, she dropped the basket on the table.

“See, I told you the girl’d have an idea.” Tilde beamed at her. “And Dolly Hayes makes those lavender sachets and such. We could package them together.”

“I reckon that might sell, but that still don’t solve your basket problem. You can’t very well say you’re selling Ozark crafts and not have some decent baskets in the mix.” Granny shook her head.

“Sure would be nice if we knew someone who could weave a nice bunch of baskets for our kick-off.” Tilde replied. She and Granny both turned to stare at Patsy.

Patsy stared back at them. She was still hung up on having sweet, sentimental thoughts about daisies and little baskets. Next she’d be humming along with Ruthann about baby carriages. Besides, her aunt and grandmother hadn’t explained what was going on yet.

“What you say, Patsalee? You think you could make a few? Maybe an egg or a picnic basket? People seem to like those. This here stair basket is nice too, and the hamper.” Tilde motioned around the room.

“You want me to make baskets? To sell?” These women didn’t pay attention to anything she said or did. Hello, she was designing a website for a major company, major for Daisy Creek anyway.

“What else we gonna do with them? I’d make ‘em myself, but I’m just too slow anymore. It’d take me a month to make one of those scrawny little things.” Granny thumped the tiny basket with her cane.

“Is all this for Daisy Daze? You know it’s a bunch of work for nothing. We never sell more than a couple baskets. Dwayne’s carvings go a little better, but people around here just aren’t willing to pay enough to make up for your time.” Patsy got up to get a glass of tea and a Hostess pie. She needed sustenance to deal with these two. “Is that why you’re hauling around one of Dad’s chainsaw statues? You working on something for Daisy Daze?”

“As long as you’re up, we could all use something wet.” Tilde plopped down in a chair. “No, kid, we’re not working on Daisy Daze. We got bigger plans. We’re going online.”

Tilde and Granny going online. Patsy didn’t realize her aunt even knew what the term meant.

“That Will Barnes came up with an idea to sell Ozark crafts over the computer.” Granny crossed her arms over her chest. “Tilde’s helping him find things to sell.”

“Got a name and everything. He wanted to call it the Daisy Gallery, but I convinced him to shorten it. Daisy Gal; catchy, don’t you think?” Tilde took a drink of the tea Patsy had handed her.

“Will’s starting a website for Daisy Creek?” Patsy set her own glass on the counter.

“Not just Daisy Creek, that’s just the name. I’ve found things from all over. Your daddy and brother are even signed on. Will’s letting people who have stuff ready for the opening sell free for six months. He’s covering the lot. Got some kind of reporter coming down and interviewing us for some magazine and everything. I’m surprised he didn’t say nothing to you about it. ‘Course he probably don’t know about you weaving baskets.” Tilde took another slurp of tea. “So, you interested? Like Mom said, we’d really like to have some nice baskets for the opening.”