Sunflower Lane Page 27

  “No way. You go home.” Setting the cups down with a clatter on the countertop at the rear of the shop, Laureen hustled up to the front where Carly was putting away the toys scattered around the small children’s play area.

  “I’ll close up.” Her red mouth was firmly set. “You check on Emma—that’s a whole lot more important. My date isn’t until eight, so go. Go see your daughter.”

  Straightening, Carly took another deep breath. “You sure? You don’t mind?”

  Laureen grabbed the stuffed Big Bird from her. “Get outta here, boss.”

  Carly didn’t have to think twice. Grabbing her purse from beneath the front counter, she managed a quick, grateful grin. “That does it. You’re officially employee of the month.”

  “Last I heard, I was the only employee, this month or any other.”

  “That makes you the best. Every month.” It was all she could do not to sprint to the door. “This guy better treat you right tonight or he’ll answer to me,” she called over her shoulder.

  “Yeah, what are you going to do? Stitch him to death?” Laureen gave a small huff of laughter before the door of Carly’s Quilts clicked shut behind its owner.

  Then Carly was bolting across Spring Street toward her Jeep, her tan wedges tapping the pavement. A cool September wind nipped down from the mountains, tousling her thick, curly mane of strawberry blond hair, making her shiver in her sea green cotton sweater and jeans.

  I’m not going to have a panic attack, I’m not, she told herself, taking deep breaths, repeating the mantra over and over, trying to turn her mind from every disastrous thought.

  It was hard to get in enough air, though, and she felt a little light-headed. But she hadn’t had an attack in years, hadn’t even had one when she found out about Kevin being married, or when she discovered she was pregnant. She certainly wasn’t going to have one now. . . . She couldn’t let herself have one now, not after all this time. . . .

  She had nearly reached her Jeep when she heard Martha Davies’s voice call out from behind her.

  “Yoo-hoo. Carly! Where’s the fire?”

  Can’t get away with a thing in this town. Carly’s stomach clenched. Turning, she managed a smile for her foster mother Annie’s cousin, the eighty-something owner of the Cuttin’ Loose beauty salon, waiting as Martha bore down upon her, beaming. A long purple knit skirt swished around the older woman’s legs and a turquoise crocheted sweater covered her tall, spare frame. Not a smidgen of gray showed in her chin-length hair. It was freshly dyed a light blondish auburn and gleamed with reddish highlights in the autumn sunshine.

  Martha was famous in Lonesome Way for changing her hair color the same way some women changed shoes. But her heart was as steady as a rock. She was Emma’s godmother and, now that Annie was gone, the closest person to family Carly had left in the world.

  If not for all the times she’d accompanied Annie on visits to see Martha in Lonesome Way over the years, Carly might never have discovered the town that had become her home.

  “I was just on my way to find you,” Martha went on briskly before Carly could respond. “Closing up a little early, honey, aren’t you?”

  “I wanted to squeeze in some extra time with Emma.” Leaning forward, Carly gave the older woman a quick kiss on the cheek. She hoped Martha couldn’t sense the tension flowing through her. Martha might be in her eighties, but she still ran her business with a firm hand and was as sharp as a toothpick. “It was a slow day; you know how it goes.”

  “Oh, honey, you bet I do.” Martha’s dangling jet earrings swung as she shook her head in annoyance. “Wouldn’t you know, Georgia Timmons canceled her tint at the last minute and now I have twenty minutes to kill before my next client comes in for a manicure and cut. What am I supposed to do, twiddle my thumbs?”

  She stopped grimacing suddenly and stared at Carly with sharply narrowing eyes. “You know, you look sort of tense, honey. Everything all right? Emma isn’t sick, is she?”

  “Emma’s great. She blew me about fifty kisses when I left this morning. I’m just tired.” Carly hated lying but she could hardly tell Martha that Emma’s daddy had breezed into town. Even Martha didn’t know that Jake Tanner was Emma’s father. No one knew. And Carly intended to keep it that way.

  “Can I give you a call later?” She edged toward the Jeep. “Madison needs to study for an exam, plus she has a gig tonight. I want to let her leave as early as possible—”

  “That’s exactly what I want to talk to you about—Madison! Can I switch days with her and watch Emma tomorrow instead of Friday? I’ll be shorthanded Friday and have a full day of appointments booked, including two perms and three manicures. But I don’t want to miss out on any time with my little miss.”

  Ever since Emma turned one, Martha had insisted on having Emma spend the day with her at least once a week and then sleep over that night at her apartment. She’d even bought a crib that fit into a corner of her small living room and had sewn a gorgeous quilt for her goddaughter. Emma always squealed in excitement at the sight of “MaWa”—and not just because each time she slept over at MaWa’s apartment there was a new toy or doll waiting for her.

  “No problem—or we could skip this week if it would be easier for you—”

  “Not a chance.” Martha waved her hand, an amethyst and jet bracelet jangling cheerfully on her wrist. “I look forward every week to having my time with her. And—I bought her a little something new. I can’t wait to give it to her.”

  “You don’t have to buy her things all the time, Martha.” A mixture of emotions rose in Carly, an overwhelming combination of guilt, love, and tenderness for this woman who had taken her and her daughter so deeply into her heart and woven their lives into hers. “Emma loves you for you, not because you give her—”

  “Shoot, don’t you think I know that, honey? I like buying things for her. Gives me a kick to see her face light up. Never had a little granddaughter of my own. And it’s my business if I want to spoil her, isn’t it? I think Annie would want me to do just that. Remember, it’s your unpleasant job to say no to her now and then—not mine.” Chuckling, she turned back toward the Cuttin’ Loose. “You go ahead now. But don’t forget to tell Madison,” she instructed over her shoulder.

  “I won’t.”

  For a moment Carly watched the older woman saunter back toward her shop. There was a lump in her throat as she studied the tall, retreating figure. Martha had always been so kind to her, so kind to Emma.

  Just as this town had been. . . .

  Drawing yet another long breath that was supposed to be calming, she climbed into her Jeep, snapped her seat belt, and roared out of her parking space a lot faster than she’d intended.

  She couldn’t believe any of this. That Jake Tanner was here, that this was really happening. But the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach brought reality vividly home.