Starting Over In Wickham Falls (Wickham Falls Weddings Book 9) Read online

  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  There had been a time when she resented her parents once they’d withdrawn their offer to pay the tuition for her to attend college because they expected her to assume complete control of Powell’s once they retired.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 chi
n.

  “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.

  Chapter Three

  Georgina walked into the kitchen early Sunday morning to find her parents sitting in the breakfast nook. “You guys are up early.”

  “So are you,” Evelyn countered. “I thought you would’ve slept in this morning.”

  She picked up a mug and popped a coffee pod into the single-serve coffeemaker. “I would’ve if I didn’t have to meet someone.”

  “Does your someone have a name?”

  Georgina stared at her mother. Evelyn Reed Powell had lost at least twenty pounds following her son’s death and had never regained it, leaving her to appear emaciated. Her dark brown complexion appeared unhealthy, while her once-thick black hair was now sparse, graying wisps. The extremely attractive woman who had become the envy of most young women in the Falls when she got Bruce Powell to not only profess his love for her but also claim her as his wife. Once she became aware of her mother’s depression, Georgina begged her to seek treatment, but Evelyn refused, declaring there was nothing wrong with her.

  Bruce frowned at his wife. “Let it go, Evelyn. Have you forgotten Georgina is a grown woman and entitled to her own privacy?”

  Evelyn rounded on him. “As long as she lives under my roof, I have a right to know where she’s going and who she’s seeing.”