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She looked over at Susan, who wore a bright red halter sundress, the exact shade of her car, and a wide-brimmed straw hat. Then she glanced down at her own jeans and beige scoop-neck top. “I’m underdressed.” The words were a dour admission.
“No worries.” Susan smiled. “We’ll get you into my boutique this week and liven up your wardrobe.”
Maggie mustered a weak smile.
“Any problems with the house?” Susan asked.
“No. It’s perfect. I’ve already planted herbs. I’ve got a spot along the fence where I’m going to set up my hives, and next week I’ll start planning my garden.”
“Wait a minute. Back up. Hives? As in bees?”
“Yes. I’ve ordered two honey-bee boxes.”
“Bees. Okay.” Susan shook her head. “Bees aside, how is the house itself? There’s not much furniture in there.”
“Enough for me. Right now, I’m just grateful it was available.”
“Truly a God thing,” Susan said. “We nearly sold the place, but the deal fell through at the last minute.”
“I’m very grateful to you and Al for letting me rent it from you.”
“I don’t want your money. You’re family.”
“I need to pay my way, Susan.”
“Fine for now, Mags, I’m just thrilled to have you back in Paradise,” Susan said.
Maggie shook her head. “I didn’t realize how much I missed you and your folks and Paradise until this week.”
“Well, it’s awfully sweet of you to give Daddy the chance to go fishing. This is his best birthday present ever. Not many people would dare to take on a shop that fixes everything from bicycles to computers.”
“Eclectic. Not unlike me. It makes perfect sense for me to run the shop, and I really enjoy it.”
She did, and she loved taking things apart and repairing them. In a perfect world she’d hang out at the shop on a regular basis. Unfortunately her bank account didn’t agree. A real job was her next priority.
She wasn’t going to think about the one she’d quit in Denver, nor her recent and depressing past. Not today. Today was Saturday and another day toward the future. A future she would choose. Not her parents.
They drove down the main drag of Paradise, toward the outskirts of town, where the ballpark and the new fairgrounds waited.
“Where am I volunteering?” Maggie asked, taking in the view of the tall conifers that lined the road.
“The bait shop.”
Maggie shot straight up in her seat. “The bait shop? Of all the places to volunteer, you pick the bait shop? I don’t know anything about fishing.”
“Think, Maggie. Where will all the men be? Where they sign up for their fishing license, of course.”
“Yes. Of course. No-brainer.” Maggie nodded. “What I don’t understand is why you think I care? I only just recently got rid of a man. I am not looking for another.”
“Margaret Jones, are you going to sit there and tell me you didn’t find Jake MacLaughlin to be the best-looking man you have ever set your eyes upon.”
“What does he have to do with this conversation?” Maggie sputtered.
“Answer my question.”
“Oh, he’s handsome, all right, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“I thought so.” Susan released a satisfied smile.
“You’re married. Why are you looking?”
“I’m merely prescreening the field as my duty to you.”
Maggie released an unladylike snort.
“You never know,” Susan continued, “Jake could be your one.”
“One what?”
“The one.”
“Susan, I already met the one, and as it turned out he was only interested in me because of the potential for a tenure recommendation from my parents.”
“That man was one loser. You were smart to run.”
“Tell that to my parents, who are no doubt, right this moment, returning several dozen wedding presents.”
Susan shrugged. “So the timing wasn’t the best.”
An understatement. Maggie sighed, recalling the hefty check she’d sent her parents to cover the cost of the last-minute wedding cancellations.
“Let’s focus on the positive.” Susan reached over and patted Maggie on the arm. “Lucky for you, Al and Daddy won’t be back for another nineteen days. I can devote all my extra time to helping you.”
Maggie slouched down against the hand-stitched, leather bucket seats. “Save me, Lord,” she mumbled as Susan zipped the little red car into the fairgrounds parking lot.
The bright banner across the front entrance proclaimed Paradise’s annual Fair. In smaller print attendees were reminded that all proceeds supported the Paradise Volunteer Fire Department and the Paradise Ladies Auxiliary. Susan quickly located a spot dismissed as too small in the sea of monster pickup trucks and pulled in.
Maggie got out of the car and stretched while she waited for Susan to remove her stuff from the trunk. Barely holding back a huge grin she glanced around at all the families headed toward the fairgrounds. Tipping her head back she let the warm sun kiss her face. It didn’t get any better than this—small town, population seventeen hundred and four, unobstructed view of the San Juan Mountains to the west, the Sangre de Cristo Mountains to the east and brilliant powder-blue skies as far as she could see.
A thud from the trunk interrupted her musings. Maggie turned. “Susan, do you need help?”
“No, no, I’m just doing a quick check. One of my girls is manning a booth for the boutique. I brought along some extra inventory.” She popped her head up from the car’s trunk and waved a hand. “Go ahead. I don’t want to make you late... The bait-shop tent is right next to the information booth. I’ll come and get you for the big raffle. Remember, it’s in about two hours.”
Maggie set off, a silly grin on her face as she took in the sights. The smell of waffle cakes, sausages and barbecued turkey legs teased her senses. Barely eleven in the morning, and already lines were forming.
She dodged a teenage couple with arms looped around each other, and then stopped midstep at a huge poster tacked to the side of the information booth.
Jake MacLaughlin, his strong profile set against a background of muted red, white and blue. The sign read Reelect the Chief.
The man was everywhere. She hurried her steps, navigating around people to get to the large bait-shop tent set up by the chamber of commerce. There was a crowd gathered outside, waiting to get licenses. Fishing was one of the biggest tourist draws to Paradise in the summer months.
Maggie grabbed a carpenter’s apron and an instruction sheet from the cashier and got to work. It took less than thirty minutes for Maggie to get through the first deluge of customers. She turned her attention to stocking a table with applications for fishing licenses and entry forms for the upcoming midsummer fishing tournament on Paradise Lake.
Suddenly goose bumps danced over her arms. She looked up. Jake MacLaughlin had walked into the tent. Maggie slipped her glasses into her pocket and adjusted her ponytail. When Jake’s glance met hers she knew exactly what he was thinking.
Trouble.
She read the words on his face. The man thought she was trouble. He turned slightly as though to leave, then he suddenly did an about-face, and walked over.
“Don’t say it,” she said.
“Say what?” he asked. His jungle-cat eyes twinkled and it was clear he had failed at all attempts to keep a straight face.
“‘Burned any eggs, lately?’”
“You got it all wrong. I was going to ask if you’d seen your picture in the newspaper,” he said.
“Could we not talk about that, either?”
“Fine by me.”
She willed herself to concentrate on dividing up the supply of pens.
Jake cleared his throat. “Mind if I fill out an application?”
Maggie’s face warmed. “Sorry. Fishing license or tournament application?”
“Both.”
Of course he was an overachiever. She handed him the forms and tried not to stare as he filled them out. Maggie was used to tall, wiry academics with pale skin. Jake MacLaughlin was larger than life, with the build of a football player. Yet, he seemed keenly intelligent. A puzzle. She liked puzzles.
He lifted his head and met her gaze.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing.” She glanced away, her face heated yet again.
When she turned back he held out two twenty-dollar bills.
“May I see some ID?” she asked.
“You’re kidding, right?
She shrugged. “No ID, no entry.”
“Turnabout, huh?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Right.” He flipped out his billfold and Maggie took her time reading the birth date on the license. It was exactly as she suspected. Midlife crisis waiting to happen.
“Here you go,” she said. “Your entry ticket, plus a coupon for a free cupcake from Patti Jo’s Café and Bakery.”
“You keep the coupon.” He patted his stomach. “I’m watching my calories.”
Her gaze was drawn to his flat abdomen, broad muscular chest and biceps. Oh, he looked good in the navy T-shirt with the fire-company logo on it, the cotton fabric stretched taut against his muscles. And he knew it. She barely managed to maintain her “I am not impressed” stance.
They both turned as a crowd of people entered the tent. When the group moved toward the registration table, Jake was effectively trapped behind the table with Maggie.
“Hey, Chief. Working hard?” A young man with a navy shirt that matched Jake’s smiled and winked at Maggie.
“You know it,” Jake returned.
To Maggie’s surprise he didn’t leave her side but began to hand out forms and pens.
“You don’t have to stay,” Maggie murmured.
“Are you trying to get rid of me?” Jake asked with a wry grin.
“No. I’m simply saying that I’m sure you probably have other places you need to be.”
“Nope.”
As the license lines grew, they developed a companionable and efficient pattern. Maggie collected the money, slipping it into her apron pockets, and Jake took the completed forms. She noted he didn’t check ID as she had. Apparently he knew everyone in Paradise.
She remained acutely aware of his presence, especially the occasional moments their hands collided.
“Sorry,” she said, drawing back quickly.
He mumbled an apology in return.
“Do you need to be somewhere?” she asked when there was a momentary lull.
“Trying to get rid of me yet again, huh? You know, a guy could get a complex around you.”
“I’m trying to be polite. I appreciate your help. I don’t think I could have handled that crowd alone.”
Jake smiled. “Anytime.”
“Anytime, what?” Susan interrupted as she walked into the tent.
“Anytime is a good time for fishing.” Jake grinned. “Right, Maggie?”
“Yes. Correct.” The brochures in her hand slipped to the table and she carefully collected them.
“Well, ladies,” Jake said, “I guess I’ll be off.” He gave Maggie a quick wink.
Embarrassed, she only nodded, while Susan scrutinized them both.
“We should go,” Susan said. “They’re closing the tents for an hour during the raffle. I’ve already gotten us seats up close and personal.”
Maggie took off her apron, turned her money in to the cashier and followed an impatient Susan.
“Hurry, hurry,” her cousin urged, linking her arm through Maggie’s. “We don’t want to miss a thing.”
“Isn’t your mom here today?” Maggie asked, looking around.
“She’s backstage helping the Paradise Ladies Auxiliary with the pies.”
“Pies? Some sort of blue-ribbon thing?”
“Sort of. They raffle pies and cakes that were awarded ribbons earlier this morning. Then they’ll start raffling all sorts of other delectable things.”
Maggie followed Susan to a reserved seating area close to the stage. “How did you get these great seats?”
“Al is a sponsor.”
“You know, I don’t remember any fairs when I was growing up.”
“That’s because this is the first year.” Susan handed Maggie five tickets. “For the dessert raffle. I put yours in for the chocolate éclairs. We want this to be a memorable day for you. Oh, and keep an eye on Bitsy Harmony’s peach pie. Third from the left. I’m not letting anyone else beat me to that pie.”
“Who is Bitsy Harmony?”
“Oh, you remember her. She’s a close friend of my mother’s. Tall with a silver-white bun on the top of her head? Bitsy runs the auxiliary and she’s just the best pie baker in the valley.”
“The name doesn’t ring a bell.”
“That’s probably a good thing. It’s best to stay under Bitsy’s radar if you can.”
“Duly noted.”
Susan shoved a fistful of tickets into her purse.
“How many tickets did you buy for the peach pie?” Maggie asked.
“A few.” Susan’s laughter trilled into the air.
A moment later, the mayor picked up the microphone and, after a few ear-piercing squeals, began the event. It was a simple, organized process. Names were drawn from glass bowls that sat in front of each baked item.
After seeing all those tickets in her purse, it was no surprise when Susan’s name was drawn for a peach pie. Her cousin claimed her prize with loud gushing noises of total and complete amazement. As she thanked the mayor, Susan made a brazen plug for her boutique.
One by one, the desserts began to disappear. Maggie was more than thrilled not to win one of the éclairs. There was absolutely no way was she going up on stage in front of the entire town.
When the stage was cleared, poster boards were set on display stands. Each had the handsome, smiling face of one of Paradise’s single and therefore apparently, very eligible volunteer firefighters. If the excited thrum of female chatter was any indicator, this was going to be the highlight of the raffles.
Maggie glanced at each poster, noting Jake MacLaughlin’s face on the last board. He took a good picture, she’d give him that. The photographer managed to catch that wounded-hero look in the black-and-white shot of him with his helmet on, the chin strap loose. The piercing cat eyes seemed to follow Maggie. And then there was that barely there smile on his full lips. It was almost as though he held a secret deep inside.
She pondered the thought for a moment, and then shook her head. What an imagination she had. Jake was hardly wounded. He seemed to be a carefree bachelor. No doubt there was a long trail of broken hearts behind him.
She turned and scanned the crowd, spotting him at the back, taking what looked to be a good-natured ribbing from his buddies. When his gaze connected with hers he shrugged his shoulders and grinned, unabashed.
“Unbelievable. Church ladies auctioning off men,” Maggie said to Susan.
“No, no. Jake shot down the auction idea.”
“Jake did?”
“Uh-huh. This is a raffle. No auctioning. If you win, for your ticket you get a date to the Founder’s Day supper next Saturday with the fireman whose helmet your ticket was picked from. We raise money for a great cause, too.”
“Remind me what cause that is.”
“The Paradise Volunteer Fire Department and the Ladies Auxiliary. The auxiliary supports all the local churches, missions and other charitable causes. So we’re giving to the Kingdom of God, as well. He would be very pleased.”
Maggie opened her mouth at the logic and then gave up. Who was she to judge? Besides, she suspected the Lord would advise staying out of this particular discussion.
Hoots and whistles exploded through the crowd as winning names were gingerly plucked from the inverted yellow helmets. Each winner enthusiastically claimed their poster and an envelope with tickets inside.
As each moment passed the mayor inched closer to Jake’s poster. The crowd began clapping in a rhythmic pattern, chanting the name of Paradise’s fire chief.
“This is getting exciting,” Susan chirped.
“You think so?” Maggie barely resisted rolling her eyes.
“You bet I do.” Susan leaned over to her large leopard satchel sitting on the floor. “Oh my. Silly me. I almost forgot. I bought you a few tickets.” She thrust a stack of tickets at Maggie.
“Tickets?” Maggie startled, nearly falling out of her seat in an effort to gather the chain of paper as the roll tumbled from her lap onto the ground. “Susan. A few is like two or three.” She blinked, stunned as realization hit. “Wait. A. Minute. What exactly are these tickets for?”
“Why, for Jake, of course. There’s only a hundred and forty-seven.” She frowned. “I thought I brought more money, but I left my checkbook in my other purse.”
Maggie choked. “One hundred and forty-seven tickets for Jake? Are you nuts?”
“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for my cousin and the firemen of Paradise. You know, Al’s on the board of the PVFD. He’d be so proud of me for this.”
As Maggie folded the tickets into an orderly pile the clapping ceased. People looked around the tent in wide-eyed anticipation.
A cold chill passed over Maggie. Mouth dry, she looked up at the stage and then to Susan.
The microphone screeched and crackled. “Is Margaret Jones here?”
“Susan,” she slowly whispered through terse lips.
“Hush, now. You’ll embarrass us in front of the mayor. Go on up there,” her cousin admonished.
Maggie stood, swallowed and took a shuddering breath. Amid the cheers and applause she marched stiffly to the stage, grateful they were seated so close.
The mayor put his hand on her arm and spoke into the microphone. “Ah, just a minute there, Margaret.” He glanced around. “I’m sure our citizens would like to meet Bob and Betty’s niece. Margaret is managing the fix-it shop while Bob is gone fishing, and of course you all saw her face on the front page of the Paradise paper this week.”
A wave of chuckles spread across the audience.
Maggie attempted a smile, knowing the result was sickly at best. She moved from the stage, down the stairs and directly past Susan and the crowd, her eyes fixed forward. Without thinking she kept walking until she reached the sanctuary of the bait tent.
Stunned, one hand clutched the envelope against her hammering heart. Her other hand held the tangled ball of ticket stubs. Jake’s poster slid from under her arm as she sagged against the nearest table.
“So, we have a date.” Jake’s cheerful voice reached her before he did.
Startled, Maggie straightened. She carefully gathered her pride around her, but didn’t face him. “I imagine you’re used to this sort of thing.
“Used to it? No way. Though I will admit I’m relieved one of the ladies from the retirement home didn’t win.”
She dared to finally turn and look at him. Oh, those laughing eyes.
“Out of curiosity, how many tickets do you have there?” he asked.
“One hundred and forty-seven.”
His eyes rounded. “Whoa. I’m not sure if I should be flattered or terrified.”
“Neither. Susan bought them.”
He frowned. “You don’t sound very enthusiastic.”
“Don’t I?” She shoved the envelope into her back pocket, and slid the poster and tickets under the table.
Jake rubbed his chin. “I hope you’re not planning to back down. It wouldn’t look good for the chief to get stood up.”
“Yes, and in an election year, too.”
Jake paused. “How’d you know about that?”
“Lucky guess.” Maggie picked up a bottle of water from the table. Lifting it to her lips, she drained the entire eight ounces and then aimed for the recycle bin. Her shot was impeccable, echoing through the tent.
Fortified, she met Jake’s gaze again. “Rest assured, I wouldn’t dream of standing you up, Chief MacLaughlin. I’m going to think of this as my civic duty.”
Chapter Three
“Here’s the problem, Susan. I don’t do dresses.” Maggie glanced around the boutique from the door’s threshold and shivered.
Susan patted Maggie’s hand before gently urging her farther into the shop. “I know, honey, but you’re going to have to work with me. I consider it a personal challenge to my creative genius to find you the perfect ensemble for this appointment with destiny.”
Maggie closed her eyes and then opened them slowly. She was pretty certain she’d fallen into a Colorado rabbit hole and would never find her way out.
“Dresses aside, your entire wardrobe is a cry for help. Why, you don’t own anything, besides blue jeans, that isn’t in the neutral family.”
Maggie would concede that on that particular point, unfortunately her trendy cousin was spot-on.
Susan continued. “You probably are unaware that I am the personal shopper for Bernice Harris.”
“Bernice who?”
“Bernice Harris, the reigning Bison Queen of Paradise Valley. She’ll be on a float during the parade Saturday.”
“Parade?” Maggie frowned. “What parade?”
“This weekend is huge in Paradise. The Founder’s Day parade is Saturday morning before the supper. Why, this weekend heralds the onslaught of tourist season. So you can see why we have our work cut out for us.”
“We do?”
“Oh, yes. It’s already Monday. You’ll need several new outfits, besides a dress.”
Maggie uttered a noncommittal sound as she considered a dash for the door. What was the point? Since they were kids Susan and her long legs had always arrived everywhere first.
“Did I tell you that Bernice asked me to go on tour with her? Naturally I turned her down. I’m needed here. This boutique is my calling. I’m sort of a missionary to the fashionless.” Susan offered a benevolent smile. “You, my dear cousin, shall be my coup de grâce. If I can make you look good I can make anyone look good.”
Maggie flinched at the words, before glancing at her utilitarian leather watch. “I’m on my lunch break.”
“Enough time to get started.”
Susan reached out a hand and plucked Maggie’s tan cotton shirt between her thumb and forefinger. “These clothes you wear. They do nothing for you.” She released the fabric and rubbed her hands together.
“What exactly did you have in mind, Susan?”
Susan’s finely shaped brows knit together in deep thought. “Well, first, I’d like to see Chief MacLaughlin brought to his knees.”
“This is not about Jake MacLaughlin,” Maggie sputtered.
“When men are in the equation it’s always about them.”
“No! My goal is simply to not embarrass myself. Couldn’t you help me to blend in? Not stand out.”
Susan shook her head and sighed. “Maggie. Maggie. Maggie. You’re the smartest woman I know. Assistant professor of physical science at age thirty-two. Dr. Margaret Jones. Very impressive.” She crossed her arms and tapped her toe. “Why is it, do you suppose, that you have set such a low bar for your personal life?”
Susan’s words hit the target with impeccable precision. “Um...I...” The air whooshed from Maggie’s lungs, deflating her outrage.
Okay, fine. Susan was right. Maggie had spent a lifetime making her parents’ priorities her priorities, barely eking out a life of her own. Truth be told, she’d never even lived on her own until now. Pretty much everything in her life was a reflection of her parents’ choices.
“Well?” Susan asked as she continued to tap an annoying beat on the tile floor.
Resistance was futile. Maggie took a deep breath. “Fine. Let’s do this.”
“That’s the attitude. Nothing like a little martyrdom to spark a well-deserved change.”
Maggie glared.
“You go right into that first dressing room.” Susan wiggled her fingers toward the back of the shop. “I’ll bring you some things to try on.”
No sooner had Maggie stepped into the tiny dressing room than the louver doors burst open and Susan entered with a tall stack of clothing in her arms.
“You can’t be serious,” Maggie said.
“We’re simply checking for sizing. If they fit, put them in one pile. Those that don’t fit you can put in another pile.”
“Fit. I’ll give you fit,” Maggie muttered as she quickly held up each garment, discarding most as too revealing, clingy or outrageous.
“How are you doing in there?”
“All done.” Maggie came out holding two hangers. One with an eyelet-trimmed, peach peasant blouse and the other with a pair of forest-green capris.