A new business and a new home—

Georgina Powell thought that was all the “new” she could handle!

Georgina Powell is finally moving out of her parents’ house—at thirty-two! And after years of carrying her mother’s grief, she’s ready for something new. She just didn’t expect it to come in the form of Langston Cooper, the famed war correspondent who recently returned to buy Wickham Falls’ local paper. But as she opens her own business, his role as editor in chief may pull him in a different direction—away from their future together.

Nationally Bestselling Author Rochelle Alers

Since 1988, national bestselling author ROCHELLE ALERS has written more than eighty books and short stories. She has earned numerous honors, including the Zora Neale Hurston Award, the Vivian Stephens Award for Excellence in Romance Writing and a Career Achievement Award from RT Book Reviews. She is a member of Zeta Phi Beta Sorority, Inc., Iota Theta Zeta Chapter. A full-time writer, she lives in a charming hamlet on Long Island. Rochelle can be contacted through her website, www.rochellealers.org

Also by Rochelle Alers

Home to Wickham Falls

Her Wickham Falls SEAL

The Sheriff of Wickham Falls

Dealmaker, Heartbreaker

This Time for Keeps

Second-Chance Sweet Shop

Claiming the Captain’s Baby

Twins for the Soldier

Sweet Persuasions

Twice the Temptation

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Starting Over in Wickham Falls

Rochelle Alers

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-0-008-90350-3

STARTING OVER IN WICKHAM FALLS

© 2020 Rochelle Alers

Published in Great Britain 2020

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Note to Readers

This ebook contains the following accessibility features which, if supported by your device, can be accessed via your ereader/accessibility settings:

 Change of font size and line height

 Change of background and font colours

 Change of font

 Change justification

 Text to speech

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Extract

About the Publisher

Chapter One

Georgina Powell stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror, shocked and saddened at the same time with her transformation. The last time she’d taken special care with her appearance was for her high school prom. And that had been more than a decade ago. What, she asked herself, had she been doing for the past fourteen years? But she knew the answer; she hadn’t been living but just existing.

Her dream of enrolling in art school to become an illustrator had vanished completely with the unexpected death of her thirteen-year-old brother from meningitis. Her parents had been planning for Kevin to take over running the store once they retired, but their plans were transferred to her.

Kevin’s death changed their family’s dynamics. Her mother appeared emotionally unable to recover from losing a child; her father threw himself into running the business as if it was a startup instead of one that had been well established for generations. And it had taken Georgina a very long time to come to the realization that her brother, whom she’d nicknamed Shadow because he followed her around as if he feared she would disappear, was gone and wasn’t coming back.

Tonight signaled a change in Georgina’s life. Not only did she look different outwardly, but she’d also changed inwardly. The body-hugging black gown and matching four-inch, silk-covered stilettos had replaced the ubiquitous navy blue smock with Powell’s Department Store stitched over the back she wore over dark slacks. Her face with smoky shadows on her lids and a vibrant vermilion lip color, curly hair flat-ironed and tucked into a twist behind her ear completed her outward makeover. But it was her determination to move out of the house where she’d lived for the past thirty-two years that would alter her life.

Once her father downsized, and then eliminated the arts and crafts area of the store in order to expand the sporting goods section, it sparked an idea that had nagged at her for weeks. Georgina boxed up the stock and dropped it off at a storage facility with the intent of establishing her own business in the same town where she’d spent her entire life.

Picking up a black silk-lined cashmere shawl trimmed in faux fox, to ward off the chill of the mid-March night air, an envelope with the invitation and a beaded evening bag, Georgina walked out of the bedroom and down the back staircase to the garage located behind the two-story house. She managed to leave without encountering her mother. This was to become her first Wickham Falls Chamber of Commerce fund-raiser, an event that had been supported by both parents over the years, and then by only her father following Kevin’s passing.

Georgina was shocked one night when after closing, Bruce Powell informed her that he wouldn’t be attending and that she should take his place to represent the business. And when she’d asked her father why, his comeback was that it was time for her to prepare to take complete control of the department store once he retired. She’d wanted to tell him that she had no intention of managing the store because if she was going to assume that type of responsibility then it would be her own business enterprise.

She slipped behind the wheel of her late-model Nissan Rogue, an SUV she’d purchased to celebrate her thirty-second birthday. And at the beginning of the year, she’d made a New Year’s resolution to cross off at least three of the remaining nine notations on her to-do list. The first had been to trade in the Mini Cooper for the Rogue because she needed more room to transport the items needed to stock her new store.

Georgina started up the vehicle that still claimed a new-car smell and headed for the venue in Wickham Falls where the fund-raiser would be held for the first time. In the past the members of the Chamber had contracted with a hotel off the interstate to hold the annual event in one of their ballrooms.

A shiver of excitement rippled through Georgina when she thought about the plans she’d made for her future. She was aware that she had to work hard and probably make unforeseen sacrifices to realize her dream to become an independent business owner. But the knowledge that she would join a small number of women owning and operating their own businesses in Wickham Falls, West Virginia, was heady indeed.

Fifteen minutes later she maneuvered into a space between a Ram 1500 and a Ford F-150. You can take the boy out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of the boy, she mused. Whether attending the local sports bar or a semiformal affair, pickups were the preferred modes of transportation in the town where the population still hovered below five thousand.

Thankfully, the Gibsons, who owned the Wolf Den, when they erected a barn at the rear of the property for larger gatherings, had paved the parking lot. Georgina gathered her belongings off the passenger seat and alighted from the SUV.

A small crowd had gathered at the entrance to the barn and as she waited in line, she recognized several customers who patronized the department store. Powell’s, as the locals called it, had survived despite big-box stores going up in neighboring towns because the Falls’ town officials insisted if its citizenry lived local, then they should shop local. The town council had repeatedly voted down any developer’s bid to put up strip malls with fast food restaurants and variety shops because they would impact and threaten the viability of Wickham Falls’ mom-and-pop stores.

She finally made her way to the reception desk where the wives of several members were checking off names against ticket numbers. The woman glanced at her ticket, and then up at Georgina, her eyes widening in shock.

“Oh, my dear,” she whispered. “I almost didn’t recognize you, Georgina.”

She gave the elderly woman with stylishly salt-and-pepper coiffed hair a sweet smile. “There are occasions when we’re forced to clean up, Mrs. Bachmann.”

The woman, whose husband was the Chamber’s treasurer, nodded. “And I must say you clean up very well. I’m sorry your father can’t attend, but I’m glad you’re here to represent Powell’s. By the way, you’re at table number seven with others who will attend without a plus-one. You’ll find your place card there.”

“Thank you.”

She wanted to tell the woman that Bruce Powell was upset that he’d had to attend another social event without his wife, which led to rumors that he and Evelyn were having marital issues. There wasn’t an issue but that Evelyn Powell had become a social recluse. She was rarely seen in the store and had resigned from all the town’s civic organizations. Even after sixteen years, Evelyn still mourned the loss of her son. Georgina would occasionally remind her that she did have a daughter, but the older woman ignored her as if she hadn’t spoken.

She glanced around the barn that was reminiscent of a bygone era with strings of tiny white lights around the perimeter of the ceiling while gaslight-inspired chandeliers and hanging fixtures cast a warm, golden glow over round tables with seating for six. And in keeping with the theme of the time period of the early twentieth century, the glass, flatware and ornately carved mahogany bar added to the venue’s rustic ambiance. White-jacketed waitstaff circulated with trays of hors d’oeuvres and flutes of champagne. Georgina draped her shawl over the back of one of the chairs at table seven.

“Georgi Powell, long time no see.”

She turned to find Langston Cooper standing a few feet away, holding a glass with an amber liquid, the color an exact match for his eyes, grinning at her. The orbs in a light brown complexion reminded her of champagne diamonds. Her attention was drawn to the minute lines fanning out around the eyes of the man who wasn’t much older than she was. Langston had left Wickham Falls to attend college and had spent most of his career as a foreign journalist covering wars in Africa and the Middle East. She’d always thought of him as good-looking with his balanced features and a hint of a cleft in his strong chin, but there was something about Langston’s body language that communicated he was so tightly coiled that people had to walk on eggshells in his presence.

“I could say the same about you,” she countered, smiling. “Are you here as a member or as a reporter for the paper?”

Langston’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “Both. Well, as editor-in-chief of The Sentinel, I’m expected to attend this soiree. What I don’t remember is you coming last year.”

“That’s because this is my first year.”

To say he was surprised to see Georgina at the event did not match his shock in seeing her wearing something other than the smock that identified her as an employee of Powell’s Department Store. But then he had to remember she wasn’t an employee but the daughter of the owner. He knew staring was rude, yet he couldn’t pull his gaze away from her beautiful face with a subtle hint of makeup. However, it was the décolletage on the black halter gown that made it almost impossible for him not to stare at the soft swell of breasts each time she took a breath.

Mixed-race Georgina had inherited the best physical attributes from her Scotch-Irish father and African American mother. She’d concealed the faint sprinkling of freckles with makeup that was perfect for her light brown complexion. The brown curly hair with glints of copper were missing, and in its place was a sleek hairstyle that made her appear quite the sophisticate. When he’d returned to Wickham Falls the year before to purchase the failing periodical and encountered Georgina, the first thing he’d noticed was she no longer had the noticeable gap between her front teeth. He had always thought her pretty, but tonight she was stunning!

“Is there something I can get for you from the bar?”

She glanced at the waiters with the bubbly wine. “I’ll have champagne. Meanwhile, I’m going to see what they’re serving at the carving station, because if I’m going to drink, then I need to eat something.”

Langston pulled out the chair with her shawl. “Please sit and I’ll get you something to eat and your wine. How do you like your meat cooked?” He removed his suit jacket and placed it over the back of the chair next to hers.

She sat, smiling up at him. “Medium-well. Thank you, sir.”

He returned her smile. “You’re welcome, ma’am.”

Langston approached a waiter. Reaching into the pocket of his suit trousers, he took out a money clip and handed the man a bill. “Can you please leave a couple of flutes at table seven?”

The young man pocketed the money, nodding. “Of course. And thank you, sir.”

He wended his way through the crowd to the carving station, chiding himself for not telling Georgina that she looked incredible but did not want to come on too strong, because he didn’t know if she was involved with someone. Just because she’d come unescorted, it did not translate into her being unencumbered. After all, she was a beautiful woman and heir to a successful business that had survived for decades despite the Great Depression and several recessions to remain viable.

Langston expertly balanced plates along his arm, a skill he’d learned when waiting tables as a college student. When he’d asked the waiter to leave a couple of flutes at the table, he hadn’t meant a couple each for him and Georgina.

She pointed to the quartet of glasses. “He must have assumed we were thirsty,” she teased.

He set down small plates with thinly sliced roast beef and horseradish, pasta with a vodka sauce, prawns with an Asian-inspired dipping sauce, and filo tartlets filled with spicy cilantro shrimp. “I’m willing to bet we’ll need them because what I’ve selected for us definitely isn’t bland.”

Unfolding her napkin, Georgina spread it over her lap. “Spicy is good.”

Langston gave her a sidelong glance. “So you like it hot?”

She nodded. “I enjoy a little heat,” she admitted, spreading a smidgen of horseradish on the roast beef. “Do you cook?”

Her question caught him completely off guard. “I can. Why did you ask?”

Georgina shrugged bare shoulders. “Just curious.”

Langston waited for her to chew and swallow a mouthful of meat. “What else are you curious about?”

“How is the paper doing since you took over?”

He successfully concealed his disappointment because he’d expected her to ask him something more personal—perhaps why he had come without a date. “It’s taken a while, but we’ve managed to increase the circulation and advertising revenue.”

“There was a time before you bought the paper that we thought it was going to fold. We’ve always relied on The Sentinel to advertise the store’s daily and weekly specials.”

“Powell’s has advertised with the paper from its inaugural issue.”

“It’s the only way we can get the word out when we put items on sale.”

Langston speared a prawn, dipped it into the piquant sauce and popped it into his mouth. “Do you find it odd that the Gibsons would offer an eclectic menu for the cocktail hour when they’re known for barbecuing meat?”

The owners of the Wolf Den had established a reputation over several generations of serving the best grilled, barbecue and smoked meats in Johnson County. Longtime residents had whispered about the Gibsons keeping them supplied with illegal moonshine during Prohibition, and that revenue agents couldn’t offer anyone enough money to snitch on their supplier. What went on in Wickham Falls stayed in Wickham Falls, and it was the reason he’d come back to his hometown to start over rather than remain in Washington, DC.

“They are full of surprises,” Georgina said. “I suppose for catered affairs they like to change it up a bit.”

“I really like the change.”

“So do I,” she agreed. “If this place had been up when we had prom, then we probably wouldn’t have had to pay as much for our tickets or to contend with a power outage and a malfunctioning generator.”

“My parents told me about that fiasco when they came up to New York for my college graduation.”

“Some of the kids were talking about wrecking the place when we were told we weren’t getting a refund because the contract stated the owners weren’t responsible for power outages or acts of God.”

Langston shook his head. “I don’t believe that would’ve gone over well with their parents who would’ve had to pay for the damages.”

“My folks would have grounded me for life if that had happened.”

“Speaking of your folks, how’s your mother?”

Langston asking about Evelyn Powell was another reminder for Georgina to move out of her parents’ house. “She’s well.”

What she wanted to tell him was that her mother had elevated manipulation to an art form. She’d feigned not feeling well whenever Georgina mentioned going out because Evelyn feared she would meet someone and possibly have a future with him.

“Tell her I asked about her.”

“I will,” she promised. Evelyn always perked up when someone asked about her. “How are your parents enjoying their retirement in Key West?”

“What can I say, Georgina. Dad just bought a boat that sleeps four. He, Mom and another couple sail down to different islands in the Caribbean to fish and shop, while using the boat as their hotel. I did ask them why they bought a bungalow when they spend most of their time on the water, and they couldn’t give me an answer.”

“Don’t begrudge them, Langston. It sounds as if they’re having the time of their lives.”

He affected a half smile. “I suppose I’m a little jealous because they’re having so much fun.”

“Have you planned what you want to do once you retire?”

“No. I haven’t thought that far ahead.” He took a sip of champagne. “What about you, Georgi? Have you figured out your future?”

Langston shifted slightly to give her a direct stare, and Georgina sucked in an audible breath when she realized there was something in the way that he was looking at her, which made her feel slightly uncomfortable. Worldly and erudite, she wondered if he could see under the veneer of sophistication she’d affected for the fund-raiser to glimpse a girl in a woman’s body struggling to control her destiny.

“Yes, but first I have to find someplace to live.”

A frown appeared between his eyes. “Don’t you live with your parents?”

When she’d met with Sasha Manning, her best friend from high school, to discuss her future, the pastry chef who’d recently opened Sasha’s Sweet Shoppe on Main Street had advised her that in order to grasp a modicum of independence, she had to move out of her parents’ house.

“Yes. I’ve made the decision to move out and get my own place.”

“Where?”

“I’d prefer Wickham Falls, but if I can find something in Mineral Springs, I’ll take it.”

Langston gave her a you’ve got to be kidding me look when he said, “How can a girl who grew up in the Falls actually consider moving to the Springs? It just isn’t done.”

Georgina laughed, the sound carrying easily to a nearby table as several people turned to stare at her and Langston. The rivalry between the two towns had begun years ago during a high school football game when several players from Mineral Springs were charged with unnecessary roughness. The incident ended a player from the Falls the opportunity to take advantage of an athletic scholarship when his leg was so severely injured that he would never be able to compete again. Students from the Falls who dated people in the Springs were socially ostracized. It had become the modern-day version of the Hatfields and McCoys, with students in neighboring towns rather than families as archrivals.

“I know that, Langston, but I don’t have a choice if I can’t find something here in the Falls.” Mineral Springs was larger, more populated, and there were several properties that were available for rent or purchase.

“Do you want to rent or buy?” he asked.

“It doesn’t matter.” Georgina had saved enough money for a sizable down payment on a house that would suit her tastes, but she was also willing to rent until she found a property where she hoped to spend the rest of her life. “You run a newspaper, so you must know just about everything that happens in Wickham Falls.”

Langston affected a sly grin. “There are things I’m aware of and would rather not know. Have you checked with Viviana Remington? Correction. She’s now Viviana Wainwright, and her husband is the developer who’s building the new single-family homes on the Remington property. I would suggest you check with her before talking to a real-estate agent.”

“Thanks for the tip. I’ll let you know if I find something.”

Georgina knew Viviana Remington was a direct descendant of the infamous Wolfe family who’d owned most of the coal mines in the county and were reviled for how they’d made their fortune taking advantage of their workers. And they preferred closing the mines rather than upgrade to meet the government’s safety regulations. She was grateful to be seated at the table with Langston, because he’d given her the lead she needed to find somewhere to live before she sought out Miss Reilly, the local real estate agent.

He leaned close enough for their shoulders to touch. “I need a favor from you.”

She went completely still. The last man who’d asked her for a favor needed fifteen thousand dollars to cover his gambling debts. He’d been siphoning money from the sale of cars at his father’s used-car dealership to gamble, and when the accountant called to say he was coming to go over the books in order to file the corporate tax return, he panicked. Although they’d dated for almost eight months and Georgina thought she was in love with him, she ended their relationship and blocked his phone number.

She’d wanted to believe he was different because he worked for his father who had one of the most successful used-car dealerships in Beckley, but it was apparent he was no different from the men in the Falls who equated her to dollar signs. Boys in high school vied for her attention not because they’d thought her pretty, smart, or even talented, but because she was now sole heir to a business that had earned the reputation as the longest-running family-owned business in the town’s history.

Georgina swallowed to relieve the constriction in her throat. “What do you want?”

Langston placed his hand over her fisted one. “Why do you make it sound as if I’m asking you to give up your firstborn?”

“That would be easy, because I don’t have any children.”

He angled his head. “Do you want children?”

His question gave her pause. It had been too many years since she had been involved with a man to even consider marriage and children. “I suppose I’d like one or two somewhere down the road.”

Langston chuckled. “Just how long is that road, Georgi?”

She smiled. It was the second time he’d called her by the nickname kids in the Falls gave her to distinguish between her and another girl named Georgiana. “I really don’t know, because I have a few requisites before I can even consider motherhood.”

“Does finding a husband figure in your requisites?”

“That helps, but it’s not mandatory.”

“So,” he drawled, “it wouldn’t bother you to be an unwed mother?”

She scrunched up her nose. “I prefer the term single mother. If I decide to adopt a baby and not marry, I would be a single, not an unwed, mother.”

Langston inclined his head. “Point taken.”

“Now that we’ve settled that,” she said after a pregnant pause, “what favor do you want from me?”

He leaned even closer, his nose brushing her ear. “Save a dance for me.”

Georgina was shocked and relieved that all he wanted was a dance. The invitation indicated there would be music and dancing. “What if I save you two?”

Langston chuckled. “If I’d known you were that generous, then I would’ve asked for three or maybe even four.”

“Don’t push it, Langston.”

He held up both hands. “Okay. Two it is.”

Georgina didn’t know Langston well, had had very little interaction with him in the past, yet she wanted to think of him as a friend. And she’d had very few close friends in the Falls other than Sasha Manning. She and Sasha had shared many of the same classes and confided in each other as to what they wanted once they graduated school. And now that Sasha had returned to town as a former contestant in a televised bakeoff, and the ex-wife of an A-list country singer, she’d sought her out to solicit her advice as to the steps she should take to realize her dream to become an independent businesswoman that did not include the department store.

Pushing back her chair, she rose to her feet, Langston rising with her. “Please excuse me, but Sasha just walked in and I need to talk to her.”

Chapter Two

Langston watched Georgina walk, and felt as if he was able to breathe normally for the first time. He didn’t know what it was about Georgina Powell that made him less confident in her presence than he was with other women he’d known or grown up with. The only other woman to have a similar effect on him he married. However, his ex-wife proved to be the opposite of Georgina, but he hadn’t known that until after they were married. And, although he found it odd that as a thirty-something young woman Georgina still lived at home with her parents, he was curious to know the reason for her wanting to change residences.

He’d traveled the world, lived abroad for more years than he could count and had interacted with people he wasn’t certain were friend or foe. All of which served to hone and heighten his acuity when perceiving a situation. Langston did not want to relate to Georgina as a journalist, watching and waiting for a clue behind what she said, but as a man who’d found himself pleasantly enthralled with the very grown-up Georgina Powell.

She was at least three, or maybe even four, years his junior, which meant they did not share the same classes or friends, although they’d grown up in the same neighborhood. What they had in common was their parents were business owners. His parents, both pharmacists, owned the local pharmacy, and the Powells, the department store. By Wickham Falls’ economic standards, the Coopers and Powells were considered well-to-do, but their social standing was of no import when they enrolled their children in the Johnson County Public School system. Every student was treated equally, which fostered an environment of one school, one team.

Langston was aware that despite its seemingly picture-postcard appearance with one-and two-story homes, and two traffic lights, and being touted as one of the best little towns in the state, Wickham Falls did have a history of labor unrest that came close to rivaling Matewan’s coal-mining strikes, with months-long battles between union and nonunion workers. After the owners closed the mines, it taught the residents to depend on one another to ensure survival because of labor solidarity. And it was in the Falls that he felt more relaxed and able to recapture the peace he’d known and felt when growing up.

The decision to resign from the cable news station, where he’d worked as a foreign correspondent, sell his Washington, DC, condo and purchase the house in Wickham Falls from his parents after they’d retired and planned to live in their vacation home on Key West was an easy one for Langston. His contemplating buying a biweekly with a dwindling circulation was much more difficult. Despite becoming an award-winning journalist, and a New York Times bestselling nonfiction writer, he wasn’t certain whether to invest in a newspaper when local papers had folded, and popular magazines were going from print to an electronic format.

He’d approached the owner of The Sentinel with an offer and after several weeks of negotiations, Langston had become the publisher and editor-in-chief of a failing paper. He’d thrown his experience and energies into revamping the biweekly’s format, meeting several times a week with the staff to solicit their input for new ideas that would resurrect what had been a popular and necessary medium to disseminate information to the community. It had taken a year to realize an increase in circulation, and the paper’s new design, columns and highlighting of individuals and businesses seemed to resonate with many subscribers.

Langston’s focus shifted to Georgina as she laughed at something Sasha Manning said. He hadn’t had any direct contact with her since returning. He’d caught glimpses of her whenever he went into the department store if she was summoned from the office to assist a customer or an employee. And he never would’ve suspected she had been hiding a magnificent figure under the loose-fitting smock and slacks. The generous slit in the body-hugging gown revealed a pair of slender, shapely legs and ankles in the sexy heels.

She’s like Cinderella, he mused. During the day she went about with a bare face, shapeless clothes and her hair fashioned in a single braid; however, tonight she’d transformed into a seductress that had him and other men taking furtive glances at her.

Langston hadn’t come back home to become involved with a woman; he’d come back to hopefully recover and heal from recurring episodes of PTSD, which had plagued him when he least expected. Spending too many years covering wars in two African countries and the Middle East had affected him psychologically. He’d gone into therapy to help cope with the nightmares, and it was only after he resigned his position as a correspondent had the macabre images decreased in frequency.

He stood up when Georgina returned to the table. He pulled out her chair, seating her. Langston retook his seat and turned to look at the well-dressed elderly woman with bluish hair next to him when she rested a hand on his arm. Bessie Daniels had become a fixture in the town as the proprietress of Perfect Tresses hair salon. She’d begun using a blue rinse once she grayed prematurely and had earned the moniker of The Blue Lady.

“Langston, I wanted to tell you that I like what you’ve done with the newspaper. Eddie Miller ran The Sentinel into the ground after he took over from his father. What had been a fine newspaper was filled with reprinted articles no one cared about. Trust me, Langston, we don’t mind reading about events that occurred a long time ago, but in my opinion, he was just too damn lazy to go out and gather current news to print.”

“I’m glad you like the new format,” he said. There was no way he was going to bash the former owner of the newspaper because not only did he still live in the Falls, but Bessie was an incurable gossip and whatever he said to her would no doubt be repeated and get back to Eddie.

“Your folks must be very proud of you, Langston.”

He smiled. “I’d like to think they are.”

“Please send them my best whenever you talk to or see them again.”

“I will.”

“By the way,” Bessie continued, seemingly without taking a breath, “do you know why Bruce sent his daughter when he usually comes every year?”

Langston smothered a groan. He didn’t know why the woman was interrogating him about something she probably knew, but just needed confirmation on. “I do not know.” The four words were pregnant with a finality that he hoped she understood.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please be seated,” came an announcement over the PA system. “Our mayor and the officers of the Chamber would like to say a few words before dinner is served.”

“Nice timing,” Georgina whispered in his ear.

Langston shared a knowing smile with her. It was apparent she’d overheard his conversation with Bessie Daniels. “Do you want to switch seats?” he teased, sotto voce.

“You’re a big boy, Langston. Please don’t tell me you’re afraid of a harmless little lady.”

He wanted to tell Georgina that the little lady was not harmless, and if the paper had a gossip column then he would’ve hired her. He’d added two new columns. “Sound Off”, in which residents could anonymously voice their concerns about any or everything they felt strongly about, had replaced the “Letters to the Editor,” and “Who’s Who” to highlight residents who have made a difference. Langston blew out an audible breath when he realized Mrs. Daniels had turned her attention to the woman on her left. He had been given a pass from the chatty woman—for now.

The speakers droned on, and Georgina knew why her father had tired of attending the fund-raiser; there were too many speeches, which were much too long. She realized she had to get used to it because once she became a business owner it was incumbent she support the Chamber.

She lowered her head, hiding a smile when she saw Sasha roll her eyes upward while shaking her head. Her friend had turned heads in a chocolate-brown, off-the-shoulder dress with a revealing neckline. Georgina assumed it wasn’t only the pastry chef’s attire that had garnered attention, but also who she’d come with. Her date was the town’s resident dentist and single father, Dr. Dwight Adams. Sasha had insisted her part-time employee’s father was only a friend, and Georgina wondered, noticing the couple’s entrancement with each other, how long they would remain friends. Even given the dearth of romance in her own life, Georgina was a romantic at heart, and she silently cheered for her friend to be given a second chance at love.

Now that she was focused on opening a craft shop, the notion of dating was not on her agenda and it nagged at her that she’d had to use subterfuge because she feared her father would use his influence to block her signing a lease on the vacant store around the corner from Main Street. Georgina had planned carefully when she directed an attorney to set up an LLC for her and gave them power of attorney to negotiate the terms of the lease on her behalf. With the executed lease, she’d applied to the town’s housing department for a permit to operate a business and was currently awaiting their approval. The clerk at the town council told her there was a minimum two-month wait before her application would come up for review.

There had been a time when she resented her parents once they’d withdrawn their offer to pay the tuition for her to attend college because they expected her to assume complete control of Powell’s once they retired. Georgina had argued they were nowhere near retirement age and her leaving home for four years would not negatively impact the viability of the store. As a recent high school graduate, she hadn't been aware of her mother’s emotional instability. One moment she could be laughing, and then without warning she would dissolve into tears about losing her baby. Seeing her mother cry achieved the result Evelyn sought when Georgina promised she would stay. And she’d stayed for fourteen years while feeling as if she was losing a bit of herself day by day, hour by hour and minute by minute if she did not take control of her life and destiny.

Living with her parents and adhering to their rules had taken its toll on her own emotional well-being. She loved her mother and father, respected them as her parents, but she didn’t want to turn into someone angry and resentful with the hand she’d been dealt because she had surrendered her will to others who had their own agenda.

“A penny for your thoughts, Georgi.”

Langston’s voice broke into her musings. “I can’t believe how long these speeches are,” she lied smoothly. Being deceitful did not come easily for Georgina, yet lately she’d become very closemouthed about her plans because she didn’t want anything to come up that would delay or derail them.

“My folks told me when they first joined there wasn’t a cocktail hour and the speeches went on for what appeared to be hours before dinner was served. That changed after some of the members threatened to leave the organization if the officers did not change the fund-raiser format.”

“It’s apparent they listened,” she said, smiling.

“They didn’t have a choice,” Langston countered. “But there was a trade off. Membership dues and the price of the dinner tickets were increased to offset the cost of a cocktail hour. This year they’ve projected realizing a larger profit from the fund-raiser because they didn’t have to rent space at the hotel because the Gibsons decided to donate this venue.”

Georgina liked talking with Langston because he was a wealth of information about the goings-on in the town. The store had become her world, isolating her from everything outside the doors of Powell’s Department Store.

She’d spend most of the day in the office, checking invoices, inventory, and managing payroll, while her father passed the time on the floor, interacting with customers and meeting with various vendors and deliverymen. And whenever she felt as if she was going stir-crazy, Georgina would leave the office to exchange pleasantries with customers, walk down to the bank to deposit receipts, or go across the street to Ruthie’s for lunch. Working at the store since graduating high school had become a good and bad experience. Good because she’d learned the inner workings of to how to operate a business, and bad because after spending so many hours at the store she had little or no energy to do much more than take a long soak in the tub and go to bed, just to get up the next day and do it all over again.

She had already established hours for her own shop so she wouldn’t work seven days a week, or ten hours a day, and it would be the first time when she would be able to balance work with possibly a future social life.

The speeches ended to rousing applause, and within minutes the waitstaff began serving those on the dais, town officials and then the assembly, while the DJ increased the volume on the music, but not so loud that one had to shout to be heard. Georgina had to admit her choice of roast capon with rosemary cider gravy, roasted cauliflower with scallion and lemon, and rice pilaf was not only appealing in presentation but also scrumptious. Meanwhile, bartenders wheeled carts around the room, filling beverage orders.

The man on her right, the owner of the laundromat/dry cleaner, talked incessantly about missing his wife of more than thirty years who’d died earlier in the year, and that running his business wasn’t the same without her presence. The cheerful woman who’d manned the laundromat had greeted everyone with a smile, and most of the residents in the Falls turned out for her funeral.

Georgina had to admit, aside from the long-winded speeches, she was enjoying herself. Various floating conversations had her smiling when someone let it slip that a woman was cheating on her husband with their neighbor. She hadn’t been to a social event since prom, so she did not have a frame of reference from which to ascertain whether the fund-raiser was an overwhelming success. The silent voice in her head chided her for not experiencing normal events a twenty-and thirty-something single woman would or should have. She’d become the good daughter in every sense of the word, but to her emotional detriment, which threatened to make her as socially reclusive as her mother.

She coveted what little free time she had occasionally watching her favorite TV shows, knitting or crocheting, and she had to thank her grandmother for teaching her the handicrafts passed down through generations of Reed women. Grandmother Dorothea, or Dot, insisted she pay close attention when she taught her to cast on stitches to knit her first garment. Georgina proudly wore the scarf and then began her next project—a crocheted ski cap. By the time she’d celebrated her twelfth birthday she was able to follow and complete difficult patterns utilizing multiple colors, needles and hand or machine quilting. Although Powell's had stocked fat quarters for those who still pieced quilts, it had been years since Georgina had made a quilt.

She had inherited a prized collection of antique quilts hand sewn by her great-great-great-grandmother she had wrapped in tissue paper and stored in moisture-free plastic containers on a top shelf of her bedroom’s walk-in closet.

Georgina shifted her attention to Langston. “How’s your fish?” He’d selected broiled flounder stuffed with lump crab and topped with shrimp in a béarnaise sauce.

“It’s delicious. The Gibsons have outdone themselves tonight. I’m so used to their smoked brisket, ribs and chicken that I had no idea they could get hoity-toity on us.”

Georgina laughed at Langston’s description of the dinner choices of roast prime rib with an herbed horseradish crust, fish and chicken. “They had to change it up if they want repeat business.”

Langston draped his right arm over the back of her chair. “Do you ever go to the Den?”

“Hardly ever. Once I come home, I veg out.”

“Are you saying it’s all work and no play for you?” he asked.

“Just about. I work six days a week, and alternate Sundays with my father.”

“That’s a heavy schedule.”

“It is. But I’m used to it.” Georgina was used to it and she was counting down to the time when she would log a forty-hour workweek instead of an average of sixty-five. “How about you, Langston? Do you put in long hours?”

“It all depends. If I must cover a town council meeting in the evening, then I come in later in the day.”

Georgina met his eyes, silently admiring the length of his lashes. It had been a while since she’d taken out her sketch pad to draw, but there was something about Langston’s face that made her want to capture his image on paper. “Do you like working for yourself?” He smiled, bringing her gaze to linger on his mouth and still lower to the slight cleft in his strong chin.

“What I like is the flexibility. I have an incredible office manager who doesn’t need me to be there to supervise her. She’s been with the paper for years and she’s not shy about telling me what our subscribers don’t want. I trust her instincts because I’ve been away for almost twenty years.”

Many young people left the Falls to go to college or enlist in the military, but Georgina had become the exception. “You left and I stayed.” Georgina had spoken her musings aloud.

Langston leaned closer. “Did you ever think about leaving?”

Georgina lowered her eyes. “More times than I can count.”

“What about now, Georgi?”

“I can’t now.”

“Are you engaged?”

A slow smile parted Georgina’s lips. “No. I don’t have time for a boyfriend. And if a man did ask me out, he’d have to have me home before midnight because I’m up at six and in the store at eight to get everything ready to open at nine.”

“What about tonight? This event is scheduled to end sometime around one. Last year it wasn’t over until after two.”

“I’m not scheduled to work tomorrow.” The store’s Sunday hours were twelve noon to six.

“So Cinderella can stay out beyond midnight,” Langston teased.

“She can stay out all night if she chooses.”

Georgina could not remember the last time she’d stayed out all night. When she’d dated a man from Beckley, she would occasionally spend the night at his house even though she had to get up early the next morning to drive back to Wickham Falls. Her father knew she was sleeping with a man, but never broached the subject with her. After all, she was an adult and responsible for her own actions and behavior.

“Now if we were in DC or New York we could leave here and hang out at a jazz club and listen to music until the sun comes up. Then we would go to an all-night diner for breakfast.”

She was intrigued by his supposition. “What would we do the next day?”

“Sleep in late. I’d also make dinner for you before taking you home.”

Georgina laughed softly. “So you do cook.”

A smile ruffled Langston’s mouth. “I do all right.”

“How much is all right?” she questioned.

“It depends on which type of cuisine you’d want. I’m partial to Middle Eastern and Mediterranean dishes.”

Georgina slumped back in her chair, then sat straight when Langston’s fingers grazed her exposed skin. His touch raised goose bumps on her arms as shivers eddied down her celibate body. And not for an instant could she forget that Langston Cooper was a very attractive man and eligible bachelor.

Langston had become a hometown celebrity after he was hired by a major all-news cable station where he was assigned to cover wars and skirmishes on the other side of the world. When his first book depicting his experience as a foreign correspondent was released it was as if every resident in Wickham Falls was reading it at the same time. The follow-up to his first book proved to be controversial when he was summoned to appear before a congressional committee where some members had accused him of being a spy or collaborating with enemy forces because of his knowledge of classified information. The charges proved unfounded. Langston resigned from the news station and returned home with superstar status.

“I’m really impressed,” Georgina said after a noticeable pause. “I love Italian food.”

“Do you have a preference?”

“Shrimp scampi and ravioli filled with any meat, cheese or vegetable.”

“One of these days when you’re free for dinner, I’ll cook for you, always keeping in mind that you have to be home before midnight.”

Georgina sobered quickly. She didn’t want Langston to believe that she was flirting with him or soliciting a date. “You don’t have to cook for me, Langston.”

“Why are you sending me mixed messages?”

She went completely still. “Is that what I’m doing?”

“That’s precisely what you’re doing, Georgi. You tell me you love Italian food and when I offer to cook for you, you do a complete one-eighty. I can assure you that I don’t have a dungeon in my home where I imprison unsuspecting young women in a modern-day Château d’If.”

Georgina turned her head and bit her lip to keep from laughing in Langston’s face. “Why are you being so melodramatic?”

“Is that what you believe? That I’m melodramatic?"

She shifted to face him again, putting her thumb and forefinger together. “Just a wee bit.”

He smiled. “Maybe you’re right. But I have to admit that you’re the first woman since I’ve been back that I’ve invited to my home.”

“Why me, Langston?” The instant the question rolled off her tongue Georgina chided herself for asking it. Why couldn’t she just accept that he wanted to spend some time with her.

“Why not you, Georgi?”

Georgina did not have an answer for him. However, she couldn't help thinking he could be comparing her to the worldly, sophisticated women he’d met since leaving Wickham Falls, and found her gauche and gullible. Well, she was neither and she intended to prove it to him.

“I’ll call you at your office to let you know when I’m available to come for dinner.”

Reaching into the breast pocket of his jacket, he removed his cell phone and handed it to her. “Give me your cell number and I’ll call you.”

She wagged a finger. “Not yet. I’ll give you my number but only after our first date.” Langston’s expression of surprise was priceless. It was apparent he wasn’t used to women establishing the rules even before they had gone out together.

“Okay,” he conceded. “I’ll wait for your call. If I’m not in the office, then just leave a message with the receptionist.”

Georgina felt as if she’d won a small victory, because she’d sworn after breaking up with her ex that she would never want another man to believe she was that grateful because he’d asked her out. She may not have had a lot of dates, but that did not make her feel diminished.

The tempo of the musician changed again, this time with more upbeat tunes as coffee and desserts were served. Several couples were already up on the dance floor, and minutes later others joined them. Pushing back his chair, Langston stood and offered Georgina his hand.

“May I please have this dance?”

She placed her hand on his outstretched palm, smiling as he eased her to stand. The music selection was a slow, romantic tune. He led her to the dance floor, and her body molded against his when his arm curved around her waist. Georgina closed her eyes as she lost herself in the smell of his cologne, the warmth of his breath in her ear and his protective embrace that allowed her to temporarily forget why she’d refused to date a man from her hometown. And if she did share dinner with Langston in his home, he would become the first. However, unlike other men from Wickham Falls, she wasn’t concerned that his interest in her was wholly financial. Not only was he a business owner, but he was also a bestselling writer. Georgina wasn’t looking for a boyfriend, or even a committed relationship, and for her, cultivating a friendship with the editor-in-chief of the local newspaper would be a plus.

The song ended and she kissed Langston’s jaw. “Thank you for the dance and I owe you another one, but I have to leave because I just remembered I have to meet someone early tomorrow morning.”

Nodding, Langston escorted her back to their table, waited for her to retrieve her shawl and evening bag, and then walked her out to the parking lot. “Get home safely.”

She gave him a warm smile. “Thank you. And you get home safely yourself.” Georgina started up her vehicle and maneuvered out of the crowded lot. Although she wasn’t scheduled to work the next day, she needed to get up in time to drive to the town’s only bed-and-breakfast to confer with Noah Wainwright about his construction project. The sooner she initiated her plan to move, the sooner she would be able to tackle the next item on her journey to achieve independence.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.