Surprise Dad (10 page)

“Right,” Mike said. “Dinner and dancing.” He threw out his hands in supplication. “I don’t know where to take him,” he admitted. “Lilah said something about a farm where he could pet the animals, but I don’t feel secure about it. What if one of them bites him. You laugh,” he said, looking at Allie’s face, “but I might bite him the next time he grabs onto my ears and won’t let go.”

Suddenly she snapped her fingers. “You know, I have an idea. Ever been to Mayhew’s Farmer’s Market?”

He wrinkled his forehead. “I know about it, of course. But I buy from local folks, so I’ve never been there. It’s over the ridge, right?”

“Yes, near Grafton. It’s a wonderful place. They have fruits and vegetables, their own honey and maple syrup and they sell local crafts.”

How could she sound so bubbly this early in the morning?

“The Mayhews grow everything themselves. The
farm stand’s right in the middle of the fields and the apple orchard, so you can do your own picking if you want to. And,” she said, practically licking her lips at the prospect, “it’s pumpkin season.”

Mike had a brilliant idea of his own. “Go with us, then,” he said craftily. “I’ll never find it without you.”

She hesitated. “I think you need time alone with Brian.”

He gave her an aggrieved look. “He and I will be alone and lost, maybe never find our way home again. Think how bad you’ll feel.”

“I feel,” she said, “as if I’m being conned.”

“Did it work?”

She smiled. “Yep. Like magic. Okay, let’s do it. Saturday between two and five?”

“Thanks for asking,” he said, rubbing it in and feeling pretty good about his people skills. “I’d like that a lot.”

Allie narrowed her eyes. “I think I’ve figured out why the diner is such a success. It’s not the food, it’s you.”

A
LLIE CLIMBED
out of Mike’s station wagon and filled her lungs with the sweet, apple-scented fall air. Mayhew’s Farmer’s Market was exactly as she remembered it. The exterior was beaten and weathered from surviving so many tough Vermont winters, but inside, the lights shone brightly on towers of gleaming apples, fat squashes, all kinds of potatoes and mouthwatering mounds of heritage tomatoes.

The place was packed, inside and out. Behind the old store stood the greenhouses that kept Mayhew’s supplied with lettuces, spinach, green beans and other vegetables when they were out of season.

Behind the greenhouses were the apple orchards, and beside them, her favorite place, the pumpkin patch.

She glanced over her shoulder at Mike, who seemed to be getting out of the car pretty fast himself. One look at him and she knew he was hooked. His eyes had glazed over. Food. Fresh, good food. How could he not be interested?

“Don’t forget Brian,” she said pointedly.

“Oh, right, Brian,” he said, and hurriedly pulled out the stroller and settled the boy into the seat. “Okay, buddy,” he said enthusiastically. “Let’s go get us a pumpkin.”

The day was slightly overcast with a slight chill in the air, a perfect day for exploring the market. They went first to the tables in front, which groaned under the burden of brightly colored vegetables.

Brian was delighted. His hands reached for everything Allie held out for his inspection. She was glad she’d come with them, because Mike was transfixed by the display. “Those fingerling potatoes look good. I’ll get some for dinner. Boil them, then at the last minute, frizzle them in olive oil.” He picked up six baskets and dumped them into a paper bag.

“Don’t touch the purple potatoes.” The words came from a tall, rugged man with short white hair. Meriwether Mayhew had been a naval officer, and when he retired, he did an unlikely thing—started an organic farm, which he ran with the same authority he’d had as a military man. His wife, his sons and daughters and their kids all helped out, but “Mer” Mayhew was still the man in charge.

With a look of disgust, he began throwing the offending purple potatoes into a trash can. “Those potatoes are past their prime,” he said. “My daughter’s kids don’t
know a potato from a Pokemon.” He sighed. “Guess they can’t all grow up to be farmers.”

He turned to look at Allie. “Well,” he said, the twinkle returning to his light-blue eyes. “I know this face.” He turned to Mike. “Allie’s been coming here since she was so young she kept tumbling over the pumpkins and falling into the vines.” He studied Mike for a moment. “You’re Mike Foster, right? I’ve been to your diner a few times. Tasty food, ay-uh, it is.”

Mer hunkered down so that he was at eye-level with Brian. “But this young man’s new to me.” He gave Allie a quizzical look. “Is he—”

“He’s Mike’s ward,” Allie said smoothly, “and I’m temporarily taking care of him.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed it,” Mer said, looking up at Mike. “He’s the spitting image of you.”

Mike’s smile faded. Allie’s heart sank, realizing he was quite aware of the resemblance—how could he not be—and perhaps also aware of the gossip. In spite of her mother’s certainty that Mike could not have fathered Brian, she would have to ask him pointblank, even if it made him mad enough to put her out of his life.

“I want Brian to see the pumpkin patch,” she said quickly. “You know how I always loved it.”

Mer solemnly shook Brian’s hand. “Pleased to meet you, sir. You folks have a good time, and you find anything as over-the-hill as those potatoes were, you bring ’em to me.”

“Interesting man,” Mike said. “He cares about quality.”

“So do you,” Allie said.

“This is a tomato, Brian,” Mike said, holding out a creased, lumpy heirloom variety for Brian’s inspec
tion. “It’s the best kind, not pretty but it tastes better than—”

With one enthusiastic swing of his hand, Brian knocked the tomato to the rough plank floor.

Allie gasped and dived for it, holding it carefully as if it were an injured bird. It had split neatly at the base and fanned out over her hand, dripping juice and seeds. Mike gazed at it for a second or two, while the aroma of lushly ripe tomato filled the air. “Okay, we’ll buy that one,” he said to Brian. “Excellent choice.”

Allie dumped the tomato into a bag and dashed to the counter for paper towels. She’d pay for it first, then clean up the mess and toss it in the trash. When she got back, Mike was gently putting a large basket of the tomatoes into a bag. She began wiping tomato juice off the floor and looked up to see his eyes on her.

“You knew you could sucker me in, didn’t you?” His chin dimpled when he smiled. “I get carried away about food.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

“Okay, I deserve that. You know, I’d like to talk to Mayhew about supplying the diner. Do you mind if I…”

“Not at all.” She took the handles of the stroller from Mike. “You’ll probably find Mer in the office. Brian and I will do some craft shopping while you’re busy.”

She grabbed a paper bag from a stack nearby, and staying to the center of the aisle to keep Brian’s busy hands away from the merchandise, she selected a box of maple butternut fudge for her mother. Then she gravitated toward the display of handmade candles.

She picked up an evergreen-scented candle. Brian sniffed deeply, smiled, babbled and managed to get his
hands around it. “Christmas,” she murmured to him. “You’re smelling Christmas.”

He was almost nine months old now. He’d been born to Mike’s friend and his wife at a time when a Christmas tree might still have been up in their house. A bell chimed in her head. Mike’s friend must have had a wife, because they’d had a baby.

She might have died in the accident, too. That is, if Mike actually had a friend who’d bequeathed Brian to him. He’d offered no details whatsoever about the funeral or any other aspect of his trip to Boston.

In spite of her mother’s defense of Mike, her worry increased.

“We’ll take this Christmas candle home,” she said, and popped it into the shopping bag.

Mike moved up behind her. She didn’t have to look. She could feel him there. She turned to see his face glowing with satisfaction. “You cut a deal with Mer?” she said.

He nodded and took back the handles of Brian’s stroller. “I’ll buy vegetables in season from the valley locals and he’ll take care of the rest. I was about to buy a couple of bushels of apples when he told me that Mildred’s been buying her apples from him all along. He strongly suggested that I not tell her I know she’s a traitor. We have perfectly good apples in the valley.”

“How right he is,” Allie said, having dealt with Mildred a couple of times in Mike’s absence.

“Mer said to leave our stuff on the counter and go for the pumpkin patch,” he said.

“Ummu dok uhnnl,” Brian said, which Allie interpreted as “and about time.”

The rows of pumpkins were as neat as pumpkin rows
can be. The vines trailed everywhere, patches of green among the orange of the pumpkins.

“What do you think, Brian?” she said, letting Mike push the stroller down the wide dirt paths. “Aren’t they pretty?”

Brian burbled his approval.

She turned to Mike. “I remember looking for the perfect pumpkin, but the truth is that pumpkins aren’t perfect,” she said. “One day my parents got so impatient—they had other things to do—that my mom was about to lose it when Mer came out and explained that pumpkins have their own quirks that make them special.”

“Like people,” Mike said.

Something in his voice made her nervous. “This one, for example,” she rushed on. The pumpkin in question was bumpy and squashed. “She’s shorter, but wishes she were taller. She’s self-conscious, which you can tell by the way she’s let the vines grow over her.”

“You think maybe she looks at the vines as her protectors from rejection?”

The way he gazed at her made her nervous and happy at the same time. Allie cleared her suddenly tight throat and said, “She’s not afraid of rejection. She’s made up for what she lacks in height by being a wonderfully deep orange color.” She pulled the pumpkin off the vine. “I’m choosing this one.” Remembering their reason for being here, she added, “Brian, which pumpkin looks like you?”

She paused and gazed at Mike, and she knew she’d found the right moment to put her doubts to rest. “Mike,” she said slowly, “you’re not Brian’s father, are you?”

His eyes widened, but he didn’t flinch. “When would I have had time to father a child? And with whom? And
if I had, I sure wouldn’t have forgotten to pick him up for eight months.”

She was so relieved she almost laughed. “That’s what my mother said,” she told him.

“Did you actually think I’m the kind of man who’d refuse to marry the mother of my child?” Now his expression was serious.

“No. I knew you weren’t. I believe in you, Mike, and trust you. If you were a pumpkin,” and she softened her voice, “you’d be everyone’s first choice.”

He took a step closer to her until they were almost touching. She didn’t know who made the first move, but suddenly his lips were against hers, his arms wrapping around her and pulling her close.

A jolt of surprise danced through her, but she ignored it. So what if kissing Mike wasn’t smart? Who said she had to be smart all the time? She’d wanted this kiss for what seemed like forever.

As the kiss deepened, she slid her arms around his neck, feeling his body pressing closer to hers. She sensed he was giving her everything he felt in his heart at that magical moment. She knew she was. “I shouldn’t be doing this,” he breathed into her ear, “but I don’t care.”

His mouth joined with hers again, giving her no time to analyze what he’d said, leaving her breathless and hopeful.

“Yah,” Brian said gleefully, returning her to real life.

It returned Mike to real life, too. His voice was shaky when he broke off the kiss and took a step back, his eyes still fixed on her face. “Allie, what just happened, I think—”

She sensed what was coming, so she rushed to stop
him. “We shouldn’t make a big deal out of it. It was a kiss, a lovely kiss on a beautiful afternoon. Let’s just leave it at that.”

For a heartbeat, she thought he was going to argue with her, but his face smoothed out, and he nodded. With a slight smile, he gestured toward Brian, who was kicking his heels against the stroller and staring at a gigantic, lopsided, not-quite-ripe pumpkin.

“So that’s the one, is it?” Allie asked. Her voice was unsteady.

“Why do you think he likes that one?” Mike sounded shaken, too.

“It’s big and silly-looking. You can’t help feeling happy when you look at it.” She couldn’t help feeling happy, but the pumpkin wasn’t the reason. “Pick one for yourself,” she told him, her knees still feeling wobbly, her heart still zinging.

“Okay.” He knelt down, then looked back up at her. “And one for Maury.”

She was touched that he would think to take a pumpkin home to Maury. He was like a father to the boy. He would learn to be a terrific father for Brian. She was sure of it.

The next few weeks flew by in Fast Forward. Allie spent too much time daydreaming about Mike, but she still managed to get a lot done on the benefit. She’d whipped together the last arrangements, thrilled that the space would be filled to capacity. Enthusiastic volunteers had agreed to pick their chrysanthemum plants down to the ground to make centerpieces for the eight tables, and the feed store in Holman was loaning them potted mums to scatter around the room.

She’d learned from Maury that the Churchill Consolidated High School had a string quartet. With trepidation, she’d hired them for the dinner, and even if they were awful, four students had netted her eight parents who bought tickets for the dinner.

The plan was in place, ready to be implemented, until the last-minute crises occurred, which they would, because they always did.

As for the other two things on her mind, Priscilla had been enthusiastic about the yard sale. “Mother was thrilled to be doing something for the foster-care center. She’s already furnished her room with her favorite things, and I’ll keep the family heirlooms and a few other pieces I’m fond of. The rest can go. Once I
get them out of the way, the cleanup will be a lot easier. Can you get along without some of the furniture?”

“If you leave the bed, one of the sofas and that wing chair in the living room, I’ll be fine.” Allie smiled. “Maybe I can get my mother to buy them when I move out.”

Priscilla, Lilah and her “troops” showed up after school on the Thursday afternoon before the sale. Mike was in the forefront of Allie’s mind as she helped dust and price items. He’d been all she could think about this week. Her body had tingled each time she heard his name or saw his face.

He was a dedicated man who also happened to be charming, irresistible, actually. He only became more irresistible the day he announced that he’d be taking two afternoons off each week to be with Brian. He was entertaining him this afternoon, in fact, taking him to a baby gymnastics program in Rutland.

Allie lived for the promise of those two afternoons. She cherished the time she spent with Mike and Brian, and knew deep down that her world currently revolved around two things: making Brian happy and spending time with Mike.

It was dangerous territory. Her world might revolve around them now, but in a few months, she’d have to shift her axis, feel the pull of her classwork.

She wanted a husband and children, but not right now. It was impossible, the daydream of becoming part of the Foster family that had plagued her recently.

Maybe she was just confused and lost at the moment, so daydreaming about Mike and Brian gave her something to do besides worry. She couldn’t imagine
not
having a career that would make a difference in the world beyond the family she longed to have. She wasn’t
even sure what career path she wanted to pursue, although she was finding the idea of clinical psychology increasingly appealing.

It would take years of study. She’d have to get a doctorate. She’d have to train under a practicing psychologist. Brian would be in school by the time she finished. He wouldn’t remember her by then.

Mike would have to take over from her. He’d hire a new nanny to take care of Brian while he worked, but he’d have to be the important person in Brian’s life. He was wonderful to Brian, but something was missing. If Brian
had
been his own child or a planned adoption, he’d feel different. But how could anyone keep from loving Brian? Because that’s what was missing—the sense that Mike truly loved the baby.

“I’
M GOING CRAZY
being at home all the time,” Barney grumbled, shifting his recliner to an upright position. “I want to get back to work.”

Mike couldn’t wait to have Barney in the kitchen again, but only if he was up to it. “Are you sure you should come back that soon?” he asked, for probably the tenth time.

“The doc said part-time starting Monday. You want him to write me a note?” Barney grumbled. “I won’t lift anything. I won’t stand too long. But being out and moving and doing what I like to do will be great for the old ticker.”

Mike could see how that could help. “Okay, if you’re sure, and if you promise not to overdo. And no sneaking any fried foods.”

Barney nodded glumly. “Yeah, it’s all grilled chicken breasts and greens for me from now on.”

He looked so crestfallen that Mike chuckled. “Cheer
up. You know I can cook a chicken breast that will make you forget all about steak.”

Barney glared at him. “Prove it to me.”

“Just watch me. You’ll be fine if you change your diet and exercise.”

“That’s what the doc says. You two been talking behind my back?” A sneaky smile suddenly appeared on his face. “How’s Allie?”

The unexpected change of topic surprised Mike. “Fine. She’s taking care of Brian for me.”

“Bet you’re glad she’s back in town, aren’t you?”

Okay, he might not be the sharpest knife in the drawer, but Mike knew when someone was baiting him. “What are you talking about?”

Barney shrugged. “The whole town’s been watching you two fall for each other.”

Mike’s mouth dropped open. “Whoa! The whole town knows? How could—wait a minute. We haven’t fallen for each other. Allie and I are good friends, that’s all.”

Barney snorted. “Just friends. Got it.”

Mike let it go because he knew there was no sense in arguing with Barney. The older man had been through a lot, and fighting with his employer couldn’t be good for his heart.

But Barney was wrong. Mike had noticed how attractive…make that beautiful…Allie was. But it wasn’t like they were falling for each other. Not at all. Sure, they’d shared a couple of kisses, but the time he’d kissed her after the crisis with Brian didn’t count. He’d been so strung-out he didn’t know what he was doing.

Now the kiss in the pumpkin patch—but that didn’t mean anything. Even Allie had said it didn’t mean anything.

He stood, more than ready to leave, when someone knocked on the door. “I’ll answer it,” Mike said, and to his amazement, Elaine Hendricks stood on the porch.

He was almost too startled to let her in, but he managed. “I just came by to drop off a little something for Barney to eat,” she said. She was bent to one side from the weight of a tote bag that Mike could see was stuffed with storage containers, and she was blushing. He turned to glance at Barney. Talk about color in his face. He was scarlet.

“That’s mighty nice of you, Elaine,” he said.

“It’s all very healthy,” she said, sounding a little breathless. “I even found a cake recipe that’s made with olive oil. I’ll just put the bag in the kitchen and be on my way.”

“No, no,” Mike protested. “I was just leaving. Bye, Barney.”

“Look for me in the diner bright and early next week,” Barney said. He said it sheepishly, but then he scowled. “And that grill had better be clean.”

“I’ll scour it myself,” Mike promised. “I don’t trust anybody else.”

Elaine was certainly taking a long time to put a tote bag on the counter. Time for him to leave so she’d stay and visit with Barney.

Elaine and Barney? Should he spread the rumor? Nope. They were probably—just good friends.

D
ESPITE THE COLD
and the early hour, the garden behind Mrs. Langston’s house was crawling with people. What furniture they were selling had gone quickly. Now all that was left were piles of smaller household items, tables filled with clothing and linens and a mountain of books.

“Boy, you don’t mess around, do you?” Allie turned to Lilah. “Have you ever considered running for President? You really know how to get people to go along with you. This turnout is amazing.”

Priscilla had decided not to come to the sale, thinking that seeing her mother’s things go might make her sad, so Lilah sat in one of the wooden chairs behind the cashier’s table tallying up what they’d made so far. “It isn’t hard when what you’re doing supports such a good cause. I’m worried though, because business is slowing down now that the furniture is gone.”

Allie sat in the chair next to hers. “It’s still early,” she said. “But frankly, a lot of what’s left is junk.”

“They are valuable heirlooms,” Lilah said, turning a stern face in Allie’s direction. “Once-in-a-lifetime purchases.”

Allie had to laugh at that. She could see from the disinterested expressions of some of the shoppers that the words
valuable heirlooms
weren’t what they were thinking.

“Gee, I’m not sure how we’ll convince them,” Allie said. She looked around, trying to come up with some ideas, when she spotted Mike and Brian walking toward her. As usual, her heart fluttered at the sight of Mike. He was drop-dead gorgeous, and all she could think about was kissing him again.

“You’ve got quite a turnout,” Mike said when he reached their table.

“Yes, but the buying has slowed down.” Allie leaned over and nuzzled Brian’s cheek. “How are you guys today?”

She’d taken the day off for the sale, but she had to admit she didn’t really want the day off. She’d rather spend it with her two special guys.

“We’re good,” Mike said. “Had a cereal fiasco this morning, but everything is fine now.”

“Brian didn’t want to eat his cereal?” Allie asked.

Mike smiled and bounced the baby on his hip. “Let’s just say we had different ideas about what should be done with the cereal. My vote was for eating it. Brian thought tossing it around the room was a better approach.”

Lilah laughed and held out her arms to take Brian. “What a mischief you are.”

“Said like a person who didn’t spend an hour scraping cereal off the floor,” Mike said dryly.

“I know how we can take your mind off the cereal,” Lilah said, shooting a conspiratorial smile toward Allie. “Help us persuade our customers to buy, buy, buy.”

Mike looked around. “Persuade them, huh?”

“Yes, apparently Lilah feels what we have for sale here are heirlooms. We just need to help people see their potential,” Allie told him.

“Okay, I’ll try if you’ll try,” he said to Allie.

Although she had no idea how to be a super salesperson, she wanted to follow Mike wherever he was going. Standing, she circled the small table. “You go first.”

Mike surveyed the crowd, then walked over to a middle-aged couple standing near an assortment of old pails. Since Allie didn’t recognize them, they had to be out-of-towners, and she was sure Mike had chosen them for that very reason.

“I want these pails,” he said loudly to Allie. “I’ll pot plants in them next summer and put them on the back porch.”

The couple turned their attention to the pails.

“Rustic chic,” Allie trilled. “Very trendy.”

He glanced at a price tag. “These are authentic. I’ll take them all.”

“Excuse me,” the woman said, “but we’d already decided to buy the pails.”

Mike turned to Allie. “I’ll pay you double the price.”

“No,” Allie said sternly, “that wouldn’t be fair. These people saw them first. I’m upset that you’d even suggest such a thing.”

The couple gathered up the pails, all nine of them, and darted toward Lilah at the cash register. Nonplussed, Lilah sent a glance toward Mike and Allie.

“That went well,” Allie said.

“Just need to help people see the value of a rusty pail.” His eyes twinkled. “Your turn,” he said. “Let’s see you in action,” and he stepped toward the cash register, where Daniel had begun helping Lilah pack those pails in newspaper as if they were treasured objects.

Rising to the challenge, Allie spotted a group of potential buyers. She approached the teenaged girls with a smile. “Have you looked through the clothes?”

The girls looked horrified. “They’re for
old
people.”

“They’re vintage,” Allie said. “Have you priced vintage clothes at that shop in Woodstock?” She picked up an elegant blue cocktail dress that looked as if it dated back to the fifties. “Imagine yourself wearing this to the Homecoming Dance. One of a kind, no one else will have anything like it.”

“I’m buying my dress at the mall in Manchester,” one of the girls said, eyeing the blue dress dubiously.

“Me, too,” the other one said. They wandered off to look into a box of DVDs.

One girl stayed, her eyes fixed on the dress. “I’d like something different for the dance and I really can’t afford anything from the mall. I love this color, but
I’m not sure about—” She tweaked one of its puffed sleeves.

“Picture it without the sleeves,” Allie said. She looked at the price tag. “And even though it’s an expensive designer dress, it’s only five dollars.”

The girl still looked uncertain, but Allie spotted a talented local seamstress going through the linens. “Let’s ask Marion what you could do with this dress. I bet she could alter it to suit you, and you’d still have paid a lot less than what you’d pay for a cookie-cutter dress at the mall.”

The girl nodded with excitement, and in a few minutes, Marian and the girl had decided how to make the blue dress into something stunning for the Homecoming Dance. Allie felt good about what she’d done, and furthermore, every woman at the sale was at the clothing table, going through Mrs. Langston’s dresses.

When Allie rejoined Mike, he nudged her lightly. “You’re getting the hang of this. Should we take our act on the road?”

“Hey, Allie, want to come over for dinner tonight?” Daniel asked, coming over to join them. “Mike and Brian will be there.”

Mike shot his brother a pointed look, then turned to Allie. “Not to babysit,” he said. “To eat.”

“I’m not sure I’d know how to eat without a baby on my lap,” Allie said, smiling at Mike’s flushed face. “I wish I could, but—” oh, she hated saying no “—I promised Mom I’d come to dinner after the sale. She wants to crow over the treasures she took home.” She felt like teasing Mike because he looked so uptight about the babysitting idea. “Want me to take Brian with me?”

“No,” chorused all three brothers and Lilah, who’d stepped up behind them.

Laughing, Allie stepped toward the table of threadbare linens, and was soon pointing out the hand-crocheted trims on the pillowcases. “You could put this on a little girl’s dress,” she said to potential buyers, “and turn it into something special.”