“Thanks. You too.” Too bad he was only doing this because he had to.
“Thanks. I’m nervous about all the people. I’m not good with crowds. I’m good one-on-one or in the shop. You know how that is, I’m in charge there. Plus, I’m good at what I do. That makes me strong. But take me out of my element, and I’ll get an attack of the nerves and won’t know what to say or how to act. I’m sure I’ll do something stupid and nix my chance of getting a contract for the desserts. Of course, the contract isn’t the only reason I’m doing this.”
She sucked in a breath, and he thought she was finished speaking.
Nope.
“I’m doing this to get to know my neighbors. I spend so much time at the shop that my social life is non-existent. I mean I don’t do anything but bake and make coffee. Don’t misunderstand. I love what I do, but The Coffee Loft is my whole life.” She sighed. “But it shouldn’t be. I’m more than just coffee.”
“You’re coffee and chatter?” He grinned. “Nervous?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
“Yup. How could you tell?” Her light chuckle made him smile. She wasn’t holding a grudge over his harsh evaluation, though maybe she should be. He’d been a heel.
“Just a guess.” He smiled. “Don’t fret about the people. Everyone in Cherry Lake is pretty easygoing. I admit, there are a few gossips and one or two grouches, but the chances of them being here are slim. Community events all tend to be run by the same crew. One or two change out depending on the event, but for the most part, it’s the same group of good people. You have nothing to fear.”
“Nothing to fear except making a fool of myself. What if we can’t agree on things? Then what? Do you have any idea how many people have commented on that spilled coffee?”
Heard about it? He’d heard about nothing else all day. There was even a hand-drawn cartoon meme on the Cherry Lake social media page. He felt bad about that. Time to change the subject. “What’s in the box?” He nodded toward the string-tied Coffee Loft box she carried in onemittened hand.
“Cookies for the committee. Your grandmother’s idea.”
“Grammie L. does love her sweets. It’s a good thing she loves to walk and do yoga. Otherwise, she’d be dangerously overweight. I worry about her; she’s not getting any younger.”
“She gets around amazingly well. How old is she? She looks like she’s in her early seventies.”
“Eighty-three. I can’t believe she still lives in her own house, and alone too.” He shook his head. He worried about his elderly grandmother, despite her being much more fit and active than many her age.
“She looks amazing. I never would have thought she was that age. Do you do her yard work and shoveling? You seem the type.”
What did that mean? Was it a compliment? It sounded like one.
“I can’t deny helping. The department has a shoveling and lawn care group. We pitch in to do what others can’t. Grammie L. is on the list. I even do her gardening. She loves flowers and fresh vegetables. She tells me what to do in the garden, and how to do it, and supervises and critiques while I follow her directions.”
“Aw. That’s so sweet. You’re a good guy, Ford Lunghamer.”
“Thanks, Drinda.” He paused mid-step. “I just realized I don’t know your last name.”
“Interesting.” She kept walking, leaving him behind.
“Aren’t you going to tell me?”
“A girl needs her secrets.”
“What? It’s a name,” he declared. She was being ridiculous.
“Haven’t you readRumpelstiltskin? There’s power in a name,” she teased and took off at a jog leaving him to catch up.
“Wait,” was she really running away?
He raced after her, a surprised laugh spilling out of his mouth and filling him with glee. She got to the corner, paused briefly to check both ways, and hopped off the curb. “Slow down, the roads might be slippery under the fresh snow.”
The words were no sooner out of his mouth than she lurched forward, arms windmilling wildly. The cookie box flew and landed witha thump, badly denting one corner. Drinda’s feet slid in all directions like something out of a cartoon. They skidded forward in one final slick motion, and she started going down. Backward.
He stretched out as far as he could and barely managed to grab the shoulders of her navy pea jacket and kept her from landing on her backside in the snow. Unfortunately, his feet flew out behind him, and he went down.
Hard.
Face first.
