Two of a Kind (Fool's Gold #11)(70)
He nodded and glanced away. “I’m sorry about what happened before. On the mountain.”
“You don’t have to apologize.”
“I yelled at you and Gideon, and you hadn’t done anything wrong.”
“Was it because you were having...a moment?” she asked, hoping she wasn’t saying the wrong thing.
He shrugged. “I guess. I miss my mom.”
Her mind searched for linkage and possible solutions. She ignored everything that was logical and went with what made emotional sense.
“Are you worried that liking your dad and living here is being disloyal to her memory?”
“And you.” He swallowed. “My dad is kind of distant. He was better over the weekend. We talked and stuff and I liked that. But you’re the glue.”
“Oh, Carter.”
She crossed to him and wrapped her arms around him. He hung on, holding her so tight it hurt. But she didn’t complain, didn’t ask him to let go. And when his body shook and she heard the cries he tried to silence, she promised herself she would never let go. Figuratively, of course.
After a few minutes, he straightened and drew back. He wiped his face with the back of his hand.
“I miss her,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. “Every day.”
“Nothing is going to change that. Your feelings for your mother have a special place in your heart. She will always be your mother. Given the choice, I know you’d rather be home with her than adjusting to life here.” She paused, wanting to get it right. “But whatever happens, Carter, you can always come to me.”
“Are you and Gideon going to get married?”
An unexpected question. “No. He doesn’t want that kind of involvement.”
“Don’t you love him?”
Another unexpected question.
“I’m not sure. I’ve never been in love before. We’re dating. I like him very much.”
Carter surprised her by flashing a smile. “Like I said. Honest. So what’s his problem? You’re beautiful, smart, funny and caring.”
“Thank you. Those are lovely compliments. As for your father, he had a difficult time a few years back. I told you he was held prisoner, but it was more than that. He was also tortured.”
Carter’s smile faded. “I didn’t know that part.”
“The conditions were horrible. When he was finally rescued, he needed time to heal. It’s not the sort of experience a man walks away from easily. He’ll always have some part of that inside him.”
And she’d assumed the greatest challenge of her evening was going to be making brownies, she thought, putting her hand on Carter’s shoulder.
“Your father wants you to be happy. He’s still getting used to you, but he bought those cool bikes. That’s progress. You need to give yourself time to adjust, and I think he deserves leeway, as well.”
Carter studied her for a second. “Okay. I get what you’re saying. But for the record? If my dad doesn’t marry you, he’s an idiot.”
* * *
“WHAT DO YOU think?” Noelle asked.
“You’ve done a very thorough job,” Felicia said, able to appreciate good planning when she saw it.
Noelle had figured out several layouts for her store. She’d made cardboard “footprints” of various shelving units and cabinets, each marked with what it was supposed to represent. Round disks represented Christmas trees that would be set up. By setting them on the floor and moving them around, she was able to play with the different configurations.
Isabel walked around, and shook her head. “You’re good. Seriously. This is impressive. You have several plans to choose from and time to make a decision. Look at you, all savvy with the retail.”
“Thanks,” Noelle said with a laugh. “I’m down to three main concepts for the floor plan. I was hoping you’d help me pick the right one. The remodel starts on Monday, and I’m going to have to tell the contractor where the built-in units are going.”
The future location of The Christmas Attic was nearly square. Big front windows let in light and offered plenty of room for displays. The ceiling was unusually high. Maybe eighteen or twenty feet, Felicia thought. She’d never had an innate ability to estimate distances by sight.
“Which configuration is your favorite?” Felicia asked. “Let’s set up that one, then we’ll start at the entrance and walk our way through the store.”
“Good idea. I’ve done that, but I’m to the point where I can’t see anything new. Bookcases over there, cabinet on the wall opposite the windows, cash register stations are here.”
It took them a couple of minutes to get everything in place. They walked to the open door and stopped.
“You’ll have a stack of baskets for shopping?” Felicia asked, remembering her experience at similar stores. She’d never been in a place that solely celebrated Christmas, but she’d been in craft stores and one shop in Santa Barbara that specialized in tiny figurines.
“Right here.” Noelle pointed.
The other woman had pulled her hair back in a ponytail. She wore a pink T-shirt and white capris. She was thinner than average and there was something about the way she moved that made Felicia think Noelle had suffered some kind of physical trauma in the past year or so. Not a car accident, she thought. That left a person bruised and battered in a different way.