Romance Grows in Arcadia Valley (Arcadia Valley Romance Book 0) Page 12

  When I have crost the bar.

  Mary Jane Hathaway is an award-nominated writer of Christian fiction and a home schooling mom of six young children who rarely wear shoes. She holds degrees in Linguistics and Religious Studies from the University of Oregon. She lives with her habanero-eating husband, Crusberto, who is her polar opposite in all things except faith. They’ve learned to speak in short-hand code and look forward to the day they can actually finish a sentence. In the meantime, she thanks God for the laughter and abundance of hugs that fill her day as she plots her next book. She also writes under the pen name of Virginia Carmichael.

  Other Titles by Mary Jane Hathaway

  Seasons of Faith Series

  (Arcadia Valley Romance Multi-Author Series)

  Spring’s Blessings (in Romance Grows in Arcadia Valley)

  Summer’s Glory

  Autumn’s Majesty

  Winter’s Promises

  Jane Austen Takes the South Series

  Pride, Prejudice and Cheese Grits

  Emma, Mr. Knightley and Chili-Slaw Dogs

  Persuasion, Captain Wentworth and Cracklin’ Cornbread

  Cane River Romance Series

  The Pepper in the Gumbo

  These Sheltering Walls

  Only Through Love

  A Star to Steer By

  The Boundless Deep

  Other Titles by Virginia Carmichael

  All The Blue of Heaven

  Purple Like the West

  Leaving Liberty

  Season of Joy

  Season of Hope

  A Home for her Family

  Loaves

  &

  Wishes

  A Baxter Family Bakery Romance

  by Elizabeth Maddrey

  ©2017 by Elizabeth R.R. Maddrey

  All rights reserved.

  No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means — electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or othe r —except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Scripture quoted by permission. Quotations designated (NIV) are from THE HOLY BIBLE: NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®. NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by Biblica. All rights reserved worldwide.

  Published in the United States of America by Elizabeth Maddrey

  www.ElizabethMaddrey.com

  Publisher’s Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Loaves & Wishes introduces the Baxter Family Bakery series in Arcadia Valley Romance:

  http://arcadiavalleyromance.com/posts/series/baxter-family-bakery/

  Dedication

  For Tim

  And his Space Llamas.

  One day, my dear, I promise.

  Chapter 1

  Ruth Baxter dropped her suitcase on the gleaming dark wood floors and pushed the front door closed before sagging against it. Home? What had Naomi been thinking? From somewhere in the depths of Ruth’s enormous purse, her cell rang. She dug around, her fingers closing around the device just as it stopped. She dragged it out and glanced at the screen. Jonah. Of course it was Jonah. And her other two brothers were probably in the room with him. When their parents died more than ten years ago, the four of them had become inseparable. Until now. The phone chimed with a request for a video chat.

  Stifling a groan, she swiped across the screen and tapped accept. “Hey. I just got here.”

  Jonah grinned and stepped backwards. The faces of Malachi and Micah joined his in the camera’s eye. “And? How’s your inheritance?”

  Ruth flipped the phone around so they could see the foyer with its gleaming antiques. “This is as far as I’ve made it.”

  “Not really your style, is it?” That was Micah.

  Ruth flipped the phone around and shrugged. “No. But then, I’m having a hard time seeing Naomi choose these, either. Neither of us ever loved all things Victoriana. Maybe it suits the clientele? Or maybe it’s an opportunity to start over, put my own mark on things.”

  “That’s my sister. Always the optimist.” Jonah made a goofy face.

  “Have to be, with you three around. No pithy comments, Malachi?” Ruth locked her gaze on the youngest of her three brothers. Though Micah had only beaten him into the world by five minutes, the older twin never let it go.

  Malachi’s hands flashed as he signed a response.

  Ruth laughed. “That’s more like it. And yes, as the eldest of the four of us, I am closest to being an old lady. But I still hope I never get this obsessed with crocheted... whatever these are all over the tables. That said, a cat isn’t necessarily a bad idea. It’d at least be company.”

  “It’s not our fault you pulled up stakes and moved west.” Jonah frowned. “I still say you should’ve just sold the thing. What was Naomi thinking, leaving you a bed and breakfast in her will? A bed and breakfast in Idaho. Why was she even in Idaho?”

  Ruth knew the answers to all of those questions, though they made little sense most days. Her best friend since kindergarten had tended toward eccentric even then. Losing her parents had pushed her right over the edge. “I’m pretty sure Idaho was the only possible place where Jaden wouldn’t follow. I’m also fairly certain Naomi didn’t plan to die.”

  Micah frowned. “Sorry. But why couldn’t you wait for one of us to be free to come along?”

  “Because she’s booked through the spring. And the people coming to experience the wonders of nature available within an easy drive of Arcadia Valley shouldn’t have to change their plans simply because cancer...” Ruth’s throat closed around the rest of her sentence and her eyes filled. She breathed in and blinked. No more crying. She gulped. “Anyway. We’ve been through this. I’m staying. At least through the spring and summer. Then, I guess we’ll see.”

  Malachi tugged on Micah’s sleeve and he signed rapidly. Ruth squinted at the screen, but her youngest brother wasn’t fully in range. Micah grinned, nodding. “Mal has a great idea. He’s got some vacation that he’s owed. As do I. We’ll come out and help. What do you think?”

  “Really? You’re sure?” Her heart leapt in her chest. Having her brothers here, even if it was just two of the three, would be amazing.

  “We’re sure.” Micah punched Jonah’s arm. “What about you? Got any time saved up?”

  Jonah nodded. “Yeah. I’ll talk to my boss tomorrow. Be careful, Ruth. I don’t like this.”

  “Worry wart. It’s gonna be fine. Naomi loved it here.”

  “You two were always so similar... I guess you probably will, too.” Jonah’s shoulders slumped. “Don’t be a stranger.”

  “You either. Come soon, okay?” Ruth stared at her brothers standing shoulder-to-shoulder in the tiny screen. They were her walls of support. When they weren’t making her crazy. She blew them a kiss and hit end.

  * * *

  After stowing her luggage in the small owner’s suite and running into town for a few groceries, it was time to get down to business. Armed with the instructions from Naomi’s attorney, Ruth perched in front of the computer that had been stashed in the back corner of the kitchen. Why it wasn’t in the rooms set aside for the owner of the B&B was something she didn’t understand, but she could worry about that later. For now, she needed to get into the reservation system and the email to make sure she had the dates right for her first set of guests.

  Something banged against the back door. Ruth jolted.

  Heart pounding, she leaned back and eyed the window. The mostly sheer and entirely too-frilly curtain barely hid the shape of what was absolutely a man. Fixing a polite smile on her face, she crossed to the door and pushed aside the curtain. Her eyebrows lifted and she raised her voice, praying it would carry through the glass.

  “Can I help you?”


  The man frowned. “Who are you?”

  “I own the B&B. Who are you?”

  He shook his head. “Where’s Naomi? Go tell her Corban’s here, would you?”

  How did he not know? Ruth flipped the dead bolt and tugged the door open a crack, leaning her weight against it so she could slam it shut if she needed. Not that it would be much defense when the top half of the door was glass. But it might give her a few seconds to grab her phone and run. “How do you know Naomi?”

  “I’m her neighbor. I live over there.” Corban gestured vaguely toward the farm across the road. But she hadn’t seen a farmhouse and had assumed it was just a set of fields that belonged to someone who lived elsewhere. However farms worked. “Not that you need to know, but I’ve been in Florida settling my parents’ estate. Naomi knows all this. Could you either let me in or go get her? I brought her the citrus she asked me for, and some avocados that she didn’t ask for, but I remembered she loves them and these are huge.”

  Ruth sighed and opened the door. “You’d better come in. Why don’t you go through to the parlor, Corban, was it? I made some lemonade.”

  He bent, his muscles flexing under his shirt as he lifted a crate off the step with what appeared to be no effort whatsoever. “Where should I put the fruit?”

  “Um. On the counter, I guess. Lemonade?”

  He shrugged one shoulder. “Why not? You never said who you were.”

  Ruth took two tall glasses down from the cabinet by the sink. She filled them with ice at the refrigerator, poured the lemonade, and then decorated the rims with a transparent slice of lemon. “Let’s go sit.”

  Another frown etched lines in his forehead, but he strode out of the kitchen. Ruth followed. Even frowns couldn’t mar his good looks. He was older than her by several years, if she had to guess. But not more than forty. At thirty-three, that wasn’t too much. Oh, good grief, what was she thinking? He’d probably had an eye on Naomi and now Ruth was going to have to break his heart.

  He accepted the lemonade, his eyebrows lifting as he took a sip. “That’s good. Thank you.”

  She couldn’t miss the implication that he hadn’t expected it to be good. Rude man. Ruth cleared her throat as she sat. Maybe it was better to blurt it out and be done. “Naomi passed away three weeks ago.”

  Corban stared at her, his mouth open in a tiny O. Slowly, his lips came together and the furrows in his forehead deepened. He set the glass down with a thunk on the antique table by his elbow, completely missing the lace doohickey that would protect the wood. “I’m sorry. What?”

  Ruth’s fingers itched to move the glass but she willed herself to stay still, perched on the edge of the settee. “She had cancer. And apparently never told anyone. I’ve been her best friend since kindergarten, we talk every week, and she only told me she was sick when it was clear that treatment wasn’t a viable option. Her obituary was in the local paper.”

  “I told the guys watching the farm to read and recycle them. Nothing ever happens around here that’s worth saving a newspaper. I’m not even sure why I still subscribe, except that Ernie’s been a family friend for so long. She’d been acting odd. I knew I should have pushed.”

  “You two were close?” Ruth watched his face. He looked shocked, certainly, but not as destroyed as a man in love should be.

  “Not like you mean.” He offered a slight smile. “Though there were plenty of old ladies at church who were hopeful. No, Naomi was like a little sister to me. When she bought this place so my parents could move south, it seemed natural to keep an eye on her at first. And then...” He shrugged. “Then we were friends.”

  “Naomi could make anyone into a friend.” Ruth’s heart cracked open a little wider. How was she supposed to go through life without her? “I’m sorry you had to find out from me.”

  Corban nodded and stood. “I’ll be on my way. I... my number’s in her book. If you ever need anything, just give a shout.”

  “Thanks.” He probably hadn’t heard her, given that he’d been striding into the hall before she’d managed to get the word out. The kitchen door slammed.

  Ruth sagged against the back of the stuffy little couch and took several long swallows of her lemonade. She was going to make a success of her friend’s business. She had to. For Naomi, and for herself. And handsome, abrupt neighbors weren’t going to get in her way.

  Chapter 2

  Corban tucked his hands in his pockets as he trod through the fields back toward the farmhouse. The winter wheat looked like it was doing well. Should be a good harvest, come mid-July. Depending. The other fields were waiting. He could almost feel them waking up, getting ready for another year. He was going to have to decide what to do sooner than later. Prices weren’t what they used to be. Neither were costs. Though the two had traveled in opposite directions, and not beneficial ones. He could get into cattle, maybe sheep, but... he shook his head and paused to squat down and take a handful of brown soil, letting it run through his fingers. Animals. He wasn’t a rancher.

  Dusting his hand on the back of his jeans, he glanced back at the bed and breakfast. Naomi should’ve told him. Though, timing-wise, maybe she’d realized the end was coming around the same time his parents had been in the accident and hadn’t wanted to add to his burden. That’d be just like her. She’d held everything close to the vest. But she had mentioned Ruth a time or two. One corner of his mouth curved as he continued toward the house. The woman hadn’t ever given him her name, but she had to be Ruth. Naomi’s description had been unmistakable. And she’d been right, Ruth was just his type. In looks, at least. Light brown hair that matched her eyes and that tiny sprinkle of freckles across her nose. She had girl-next-door written all over her. That suited him just fine. She could work on being a bit more welcoming to strangers though, particularly if she was going to be an innkeeper.

  The chickens cackled at him as he walked past the coop. He paused to make sure they had everything they needed before he headed inside. He opened the fridge and grabbed the pitcher of iced tea one of the ladies from church had sent over yesterday, along with a box that held six casseroles. How was he supposed to eat his way through six casseroles in any useful amount of time? They’d gone in the freezer to worry about another day. The tea though, that hit the spot, so he kept it out. His mom used to brew a big jar of tea on the porch in the summer. It was just the thing after a long day in the fields. He should check and see if the container of mint she’d cultivated was still around, get back into the habit of tea. Maybe take some over to his new neighbor.

  He smiled. Now that was an idea. He could always see how she was settling in, be neighborly. People were neighborly still, weren’t they?

  Corban sighed and filled his glass before sitting at the kitchen table. What was the point? He was thirty-six and had it on reasonably good authority — if you considered the bulk of the dateable women in Arcadia Valley to be reasonable or an authority — that he simply wasn’t husband material. He was boring. He could hear his mother’s voice in his head, chastising him for worrying about what short-sighted women said to him. At least he could thank God he’d had a good relationship with his parents while they were around. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

  Was he boring? Maybe. He was... content. The farm was paid for. He made enough money most years to set a chunk of his income aside for the future. And he liked the quiet, the routine of farming. He’d ventured off to college, but even then the farm had called to him. There’d never been any pull to go do anything else, try anything else. He’d learned about organic farming in school and had, gradually, worked on his dad to transition their practices. In the end, it had been worthwhile. Even Dad had agreed.

  And now it was all up to him. The last DeWitt to work the family farm.

  He frowned, drained his tea, and stood. Enough moping. Thinking about the loss of his parents was making him maudlin. There was work to be done, and he’d best get to it.

  * * *

  Corban swiped sweat out of his eyes
and cut the engine on his tractor. He’d worked his way to the back of the fields, getting ready for planting. He’d had to pause here and there to work out rocks, but if he was able to keep up the pace, the ground would be ready right on time. His gaze drifted across the road. How was Ruth settling in? The B&B looked as it always had. The gardens were just starting to send up some shoots, but the overall landscaping was evergreen hedges. His mother had wanted low maintenance and color year-round. She’d gotten it. They could use a trim though. Hmm.

  He hopped down from the tractor and crossed the road before he could talk himself out of it. His jeans were dusty, but that was to be expected. Still, he’d go around the back to avoid mucking up the company rooms.

  He smiled. Ruth had been so surprised when he’d knocked yesterday. Maybe she’d be in a more hospitable mood today. He wouldn’t say no to another glass of her lemonade.

  Corban tapped on the glass in the kitchen door and tucked his hands in his pockets.

  “Come in.”

  His eyebrows lifted. She just invited someone in, without knowing who it was? They were rural, and friendly, here in Arcadia Valley, but still. He pushed open the door and stepped in, pausing on the rag rug that now decorated the floor. “You shouldn’t just call out like that.”

  Ruth glanced up as she continued kneading the mass of dough on the counter in front of her. She nodded toward the monitor of the computer in the corner of the room that displayed a clear view of the approach and kitchen door. “I saw it was you. I have another eight minutes of kneading before I can set this aside to rise. What can I do for you — Corban, right?”