Romance Grows in Arcadia Valley (Arcadia Valley Romance Book 0) Read online

  “No roos?” Elena asked.

  “Roos? They’re Ameraucanas.”

  “No, I mean, do you have roosters?” Elena asked slowly, as if she were talking to someone from a foreign country.

  “Oh.” Charlotte peered at them. The hens looked all the same to her. She wasn’t even sure she could tell a rooster unless he was crowing. “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Which one is your favorite?” Elena asked. “I have a silkie. I feed her frozen blueberries when it’s hot, and warm mash when it’s cold. She sits in my lap when I read outside. She even lets me push her in the tire swing.”

  Charlotte laughed at the mental image. She loved the idea of fresh eggs and organic pest control but she’d never thought of them as pets, exactly.

  “What are their names?”

  “I― I’m not sure. I never asked Mrs. Martin. These are her chickens.”

  Elena was quiet for a moment. “Mr. Martin died. And then Mrs. Duncan died. That was Mrs. Martin’s best friend.”

  Charlotte wanted to say she was sorry, because that’s what a person said in that kind of situation, but their first conversation came back to her. “It happens that way sometimes.”

  “Is your mother dead?”

  “Mine is alive. She’s coming to visit soon. I want to show her all the things I’ve grown here.”

  “But you haven’t grown anything.”

  “I know. But I will. And she’ll be very surprised.”

  “Is your father coming, too?”

  “No.” Charlotte had a sudden feeling that she was in sensitive territory. Maybe Nico didn’t want his daughter knowing about divorce and deadbeat dads. “So, should I name the chickens? Do you think Mrs. Martin will mind?”

  “No,” Elena said, cocking her head. “But the chickens might. You should make sure to pick just the right names.”

  “Would you help me? I bet you’ll pick the perfect names.”

  It was like watching a flower bloom. A smile spread over Elena’s face and she stood taller. “Sure! Let’s do it now,” she said, slipping her hand into Charlotte’s.

  They followed the little group of hens as they pecked their way toward the garden. Nico swung the gate open, then closed it. He adjusted the hinges a little, then swung it again.

  Charlotte met his gaze and took a breath, trying to decide whether to thank him first, or to explain how she intending to hire someone for the job and knew he was guilted into helping. A flicker of movement caught her eye and she turned to see one of the hens flapping on the ground. One wing was in the air and the hen was turning in frantic circles, chest to the ground. The hen was clearly sick. It looked like it was having an epileptic fit. One leg was clawing uselessly at its side.

  “What’s wrong with her?” She turned to see another hen fall to the ground. It flapped and jerked, dust rising in puffs around its body. The big black one, her favorite, moved closer to the sick hens and then fell to the ground. Charlotte let out a little shriek and stood there, paralyzed with horror as bird after bird flapped around her. They’d eaten something bad. They never should have been let out of the coop. Guilt crushed her breath and tears welled in her eyes.

  “They’ve been poisoned,” she said, and started to cry. The whole flock was bumping and rolling around her. “I need to call the vet. Maybe he can save them.”

  First the garden, then the chickens. Tears rolled down her cheeks as Charlotte watched her dream of a perfect little country life die in the dust.

  Chapter 7

  “Many eyes go through the meadow, but few see the flowers in it”

  ― Ralph Waldo Emerson

  Elena shook her head. “They don’t need a vet. They’re okay.”

  Charlotte didn’t argue, but the hens clearly weren’t okay. Elena was just too innocent to know that the birds were dying. She looked to Nico, hoping he would take the little girl away from the carnage. He put down the piece of wire he’d been holding and took off his gloves. Coming closer, he seemed to understand Charlotte’s unspoken plea and put out a hand. But instead of leading Elena away, he touched Charlotte’s shoulder.

  “They’re taking a dirt bath,” he said.

  She stared down at the birds as they burrowed into the soft dirt and a line she’d once read in a country living handbook filtered through her panic. She remembered that the birds sometimes carried mites and the dirt bath helped keep the pests at bay.

  Nico held out a handkerchief and Charlotte stared at it for a moment before taking it. It was a move right out of an Austen novel, except the handkerchief was red paisley instead of white linen. It was such a nice gesture that she almost didn’t mind that her nose was running and her breath coming in gasps. She was so grateful that he didn’t seem to be laughing at her. Not a lip twitch or a hint of amusement in his eyes.

  “Okay, I got it now. Sorry.” She wiped her nose. “I just hadn’t seen them do that before.”

  Elena asked, “Are you okay? I got scared when I saw my bunny laying on his back, all stretched out with his feet in the air.”

  “Was he sunbathing?” Charlotte asked.

  “Oh, no, he was dead.” Elena sighed. “I was really sad.”

  “I’m so sorry.” She looked up at Nico. “I must look like a nutcase, crying over the chickens. But see, I’ve wanted chickens my whole life. And a little garden. And a place in the country. Of course, everyone back home thinks I’m crazy. All my friends, even my… everyone.” She couldn’t quite bring herself to explain how her mother thought she was going to fail and be back in Fresno within a few months. She wiped her eyes again.

  He nodded as if she were making perfect sense, or maybe he was agreeing with the crazy part.

  “I really need to prove I was right to give up my job and move here. For once, I want everyone to see that I’m capable of making my own decisions.”

  Nico frowned a little but said nothing.

  “She’s going to have visitors, Papa. Why don’t we ever have visitors?” Elena asked.

  “Because everyone we know lives in Arcadia Valley,” he said.

  “Well, before I have anybody come visit, I need to get my garden growing.” Charlotte looked back at the plot of earth. “Thank you so much. I don’t know how to repay you.”

  “It was nothing.” He turned to pick up his tools. “Since it’s our rabbit that’s causing all the trouble, it’s only right we help out.”

  “Is there anything I can make for you?” Charlotte felt awkward even suggesting it. She was a librarian, not a chef. She imagined herself bringing over a poor imitation of something that he could make perfectly well himself.

  “Do you like peach pie?” she asked. She’d never made anything except apple, but she was sure she could figure it out.

  He looked up and really smiled for the first time. His dimples were even more obvious now that he’d shaved. “Cherry. Of course, they’re not in season yet.”

  “Oh.” Charlotte was having trouble looking away. She could see he really was very good looking, now that she wasn’t distracted by small, dead animals. No wonder Megan was grilling her for information. A few more smiles like that and Charlotte would be in the same boat. “What about cinnamon rolls?”

  “They’re my favorite,” Elena exclaimed.

  “Then a pan of cinnamon rolls, it is.” Charlotte held up a finger. “But don’t forget to pick out some names, right?”

  “I won’t,” she promised.

  “We’d better get you home,” he said, putting a hand on Elena’s hair. “Bath, dinner, bed.”

  Elena looked disappointed but didn’t argue.

  “Would you― Would you like to come in for dinner?” Every time they’d talked, she’d managed to show how little she knew. He probably expected Twinkies and Kool Aid. “I have some grilled chicken breasts and asparagus. I can boil up some pasta and make a sauce.”

  Elena looked up at Nico hopefully, but he was already shaking his head. “I’m a mess,” he said, holding up his hands. “We both are.”
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  “You’re fine. And we can eat on the deck, if you’d rather. Come in and wash up, then you guys can supervise the chickens while I put it together. It’ll just take a few minutes.” She wasn’t sure why she wanted them to stay so badly. Maybe it was because she felt she owed Nico, or maybe because she wanted to prove she wasn’t a complete ditz.

  If she were honest with herself, it was something more. It had been a long month, and even though the townspeople were friendly and her coworkers were nice, her only friend was old Mrs. Martin. And even then, they usually just talked about the weather.

  Charlotte met his gaze and said, “It would be nice to have the company.”

  His expression changed from polite refusal to something softer. “Sure, we’d be happy to stay.”

  * * *

  “I’ll go put the chickens back in the coop.” Elena skipped down the deck steps into the darkened yard without waiting for an answer.

  “Thank you,” Charlotte called after her. It had occurred to her at dinner that she wasn’t sure how to get the hens back inside. She didn’t even know where they’d gone. A little pool of light illuminated the bushes near the garden and Charlotte could see movement there. She hoped it was the chickens and not wild animals.

  “Here,” Charlotte said, holding out a foil covered plate to Nico.

  “Oh, no, you don’t have to―” he shook his head.

  “Please, I insist. There’s only one of me. I made far too much tonight and I’ll have to eat leftovers for days if I don’t share.”

  He took the plate from her and smiled down at the little post it note on the top. “Almost an exact likeness.”

  On the spur of the moment, she had written ‘thank you’ and drawn a quick sketch of Bunnicula with a mouthful of carrot tops.

  A short silence fell between them. The evening was filled with the song of bullfrogs looking for a mate. Charlotte thought back to her first night at the little farmhouse and how shocked she’d been by the noise. In Fresno, she’d had no problem sleeping through the traffic, but she had trouble dropping off to the chorus of crickets in Arcadia Valley.

  She turned to Nico and they both started talking at once.

  “Thank you for the―” he said.

  “I’m glad you stayed―” she started.

  They both laughed a little and Nico shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He seemed as if he wanted to say something more.

  Charlotte felt the moment build, and finally glanced away. “The stars are beautiful out here.”

  “Too much light pollution where you come from?”

  “Fresno isn’t known for its peace and quiet. I couldn’t see anything but the moon most of the time. Sometimes not even the moon.”

  He grimaced. “Sounds awful.”

  “But it wasn’t all bad.” She probably sounded like she was complaining. “I miss my church and my friends there. And it has a really big zoo.”

  “You like zoos?”

  “Well, no, actually.” Another awkward silence fell between them. It wasn’t usually this hard for her to make small talk.

  “I wanted to say thank you for what you told Elena the other day.” He kept his voice low but Elena didn’t glance at them as she carried a hen to the coop.

  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “About her being perfect the way she is.”

  “Ah.” A chilly night breeze blew in from the canyon and she wrapped her arms around herself. “She said people feel sorry for her because she doesn’t have a mother.”

  Nico’s expression went hard. “I’m sure they mean well.”

  “But they’re giving her the wrong message.” Charlotte glanced back up at the sky. There were a lot of things she didn’t share when people talked about their families. She didn’t have any “daddy issues”, or no more than most, but the loss of her father had affected her. It was undeniable. But the one time in college when she’d shared her fears and her sadness, the friend had turned around and spread all her secrets to anyone who would listen. Even worse, she’d exaggerated the stories until it wasn’t anything like what Charlotte had said. After that, Charlotte had kept her insecurities to herself. Sahil was the first friend that Charlotte had trusted since.

  Now, as she stood under the brilliant quilt of stars, listening to the frogs sing, watching Elena laughing as she chased down the chickens, she wasn’t afraid to share her story. Maybe it was the indescribable beauty of the spring evening. Maybe she’d finally moved past the betrayal of her false friend. Whatever it was, she felt safe talking to Nico. He knew what it was like to have a non-traditional family.

  “I was raised by my mom. In a big city like Fresno, it wasn’t unusual. But I got that message loud and clear from my own mother that our family was incomplete. She always said how awful it was that it was just the two of us, and she was always hoping to find a father for me.”

  He was quiet for a moment. “Did she find one?”

  “No.” Charlotte remembered how, as a little girl, she used to scan crowds, looking for a man who might be a good daddy. “It was probably more for her, than for me, but when I was younger, I didn’t know that. She only said it was for me, and I believed her. I believed I wasn’t good enough without a dad.”

  “Did she ever let go of that?”

  “No,” Charlotte said. “Maybe it’s because she had a really great father. She says he made her the person she is.”

  “I never want Elena to feel like she’s not enough.” His voice had gone rough. “But then people tell me that she needs a woman or she’ll be socially awkward.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Charlotte said, fairly spitting the words. She realized how she sounded and took a deep breath. “Sorry. It makes me mad to hear things like that. So many faithful, honorable people in history had one parent.”

  “We’re not just making do. I think we’re doing perfectly fine by ourselves. There’s no crisis here. But there could be if I listen to everyone’s advice. I think the worst thing for both of us would be if I married someone just to fill that role.”

  “Exactly. This isn’t Sarah, Plain and Tall. You don’t have to put out an ad for a mail order mother.”

  He laughed. “Some days I would like Nanny McPhee, though.”

  “My mother probably would have, too. Although Mary Poppins would have been my choice.”

  Elena ran back up the steps. “That’s all of them. But they don’t want to get in their nesting boxes. They’re all perched on the rails.”

  Charlotte said, “I thought that straw was so scratchy for them so I took it out and put in really soft, fine sand. But now they won’t sit in the boxes.”

  “Sand,” Nico said. He looked like he wanted to laugh.

  “Well, wouldn’t you rather sleep on sand than straw?”

  “Yes. But I’m not a chicken,” he said, and this time he did laugh.

  Charlotte didn’t mind, and had to chuckle a little herself. “Okay, straw it is. I think I need to check out a chicken handbook.”

  “Or we can help teach you. You don’t want to be Amelia Bedelia, doing everything backwards,” Elena said.

  “I like Amelia Bedelia,” Nico said, flipping one of Elena’s braids.

  Elena giggled. “We’ll throw her a baby shower.”

  “And make a jelly roll,” he said.

  “And plant bulbs in pots,” Charlotte said.

  “At least you didn’t do that, right? Lightbulbs in pots.” He met her eyes, still laughing.

  Nico glanced down at the plate in his hand. “Thanks again. It’s getting late. We should hit the road.”

  “Can’t we stay a bit longer, Papa?”

  “Sorry, Frances, we’ve had our jam and bread. Time for bath and bed.”

  “You rhymed!” Elena was sad to go but she didn’t argue. “See you tomorrow, Charlotte.”

  “Thanks for keeping me company.”

  “It was our pleasure. I think I’ll go home and give Bunnicula a treat. He was only thinking of his ow
n greedy self, but he brought us a new friend.”

  “I’d donate to the cause but I’m all out of strawberries.” Charlotte felt her cheeks go warm. A friend. She’d hoped to make new friends in Arcadia Valley, but she’d imagined a single woman like Sahil, or maybe a coworker. She never would have guessed that a widower and his little girl would be her first real friends.

  Elena held Nico’s free hand and their figures, one large and one very small, faded to black as they crossed back over the fence. Charlotte stood for a few more minutes on the deck. The new fence shone palely in the moonlight.

  Her garden was empty now, all her hopes and dreams nibbled down to nothing, but she was determined to try again. “Soon,” she whispered to herself. “You’ll be overgrown with produce very soon.”

  Nico’s words floated back to her. It had been funny, light-hearted, playful. Friends. Charlotte felt a rush of joy, but with it came the sudden realization that after tonight, there was a large part of her heart that wanted more.

  Chapter 8

  “Is the spring coming?” he said. “What is it like?”

  “It is the sun shining on the rain and the rain falling on the sunshine.”

  ― Frances Hodgson Burnett

  “You can’t lie to me any longer,” Sahil said laughing.

  “Lie? I would never lie to you.” Charlotte peered at the tiny heirloom tomato seedlings lined up in the windowsill and tucked the phone into her shoulder. If all went well, she’d also have fresh lettuce, asparagus, and peas. “Maybe if you tell me what I’m supposed to have lied about, I can decide whether to continue my ruse.”

  “You said he was a widower and that he wasn’t anything special. I’ve seen a picture now and I can say with confidence, you were lying.”

  Charlotte frowned at the scraggly basil and thyme plants. They looked anemic. “I never said he wasn’t special. If I remember correctly, I got interrupted when I tried to describe him.” Not that she could now, either. Nico wasn’t the kind of guy you could describe with hair color or eye color or height. He was more than that. There was an intensity about him, but also a gentleness that had to be felt to be understood.