Bluegrass Blessings. Allie Pleiter
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need it.” He yawned again. “Did you get a repairman to come out?” He didn’t ask the question with a tone of concern—it was more defensive, as if confirming he’d have his kitchen to himself from here on in.
Dinah nodded and handed him a cup of her strongest brew. “He’ll be here at eleven. I just hope it’s an easy fix.” She pointed over to a sideboard where she kept the cream and sugar in wildly colored ceramic jars, but he just took the cup and downed half of it right in front of her. Evidently the man took his coffee black and fast. Very New York.
“You and me both.”
Dinah handed him one of the last two blueberry muffins. “Not to worry. Even if the oven’s a goner, I can work through the evening using my own oven and get enough baked ahead of time to make it through another day. Can’t say I’m looking forward to a week of baking twenty-four-seven if I have to replace it, though. Pastor Anderson might let me take over the church kitchen’s two ovens if it looks like a long haul.”
Cameron scratched his chin and got a thoughtful look on his face. “Anderson. Middleburg Community Church? Aunt Sandy’s church?”
Dinah grinned. “Yep. So I guess that means I’ll be seeing you Sunday mornings?”
“I suppose so,” he said in a way that didn’t let on if he found that good news or bad.
Never one to beat around the bush, Dinah opted for the direct approach. “You a churchgoin’ man, Mr. Rollings?”
He chuckled and took another swig of coffee. “I still can’t get used to that New Jersey-esque drawl.”
“I have folks tell me it’s endearing.” Dinah lifted the towel off a batch of whole wheat dough that was rising on the shelf beside her. “A unique combination.” She noticed he hadn’t yet answered her question. The man’s verbal dexterity told her he spent a lot of time in negotiations.
“Oh, unique is the word. I can tell you I’ve never heard anything like it ever before. How long have you been out here?”
“About a year and a half.”
Rollings practically choked on his coffee. “That short?”
Are you saying I look old enough to have been here a decade? “I have a highly adaptive personality,” she said defensively. “I can be at home in any situation.”
“Or any kitchen.” He reached into his pocket and removed a bottle of red sparkle nail polish, which he placed on her counter. “You left this on my kitchen table. Aunt Sandy had a field day when she found it. She didn’t believe it was yours—she says redheads don’t wear red.”
Nobody told Dinah Hopkins what to do. She raised one leg and pointed to her toes, which were a delightfully sparkly crimson that matched the shade on the bottle. “It depends where.” She snatched back the bottle of polish and tucked it behind the counter.
Cameron finished his coffee and tossed the paper cup into the trash can by the door. “And by the way, yes, I am a churchgoin’ man. Can’t wait for Sunday, as a matter of fact. I gotta see what kind of church can handle you and Aunt Sandy in the same congregation.” With the closest thing to a grin she’d seen out of him yet, he pulled open the door and headed off down the street.
“Well, well, I do declare,” Dinah drawled as she put the Back in a Minute sign on her door and hoisted the tray of dough for a trip to the apartment oven. “What hath the Good Lord brought unto Middleburg?”
Cameron was beyond annoyed.
Served him right for buying a piece of property sight unseen. He, of all people, ought to know better. Then again, who’d have thought to not trust a family member? Aunt Sandy didn’t seem to have a deceptive bone in her body. And in truth, she hadn’t lied. It was good property.
She’d just left out a large chunk of the truth.
“The what?” A man in thick glasses had stared blankly at him when he went to town hall for the legal history of the Route 26 extension. The extension was the short street on which he’d purchased not only the land that would hold his new house, but three other eventual large-lot homes as well. A little bluegrass subdivision. His little corner of the world. A street to call his own.
A street that evidently didn’t go by the perfectly normal name of Route 26. The perfectly legal, perfectly acceptable name of Route 26.
“That stretch out over by the Wentworths’ farm?” the clerk had said. “You mean Lullaby Lane?”
“Pardon me?”
“Lullaby Lane. I can’t remember the last person that ever wanted to know anything about Lullaby Lane.” He looked as if that query called Cameron’s sense of good judgment into question.
Cameron pulled out his paperwork. “All my documents refer to that parcel of land as ‘the Route 26 extension.’”
“Well, it is the Route 26 extension all right, but ain’t nobody here ever called it that. It’s been Lullaby Lane for as long as I’ve been here and I’ve been here a long time. All that property you bought is Lullaby Lane, mister, no matter what your piece of paper says.”
Cameron immediately drove out to the land in question. He stopped his car in front of the rusted old street sign, leaning precariously to the right against a falling-down stone wall. His new empire, his future, was indeed Lullaby Lane.
Lord God, You’re kidding. Lullaby Lane? Aunt Sandy and Uncle George sold me something called Lullaby Lane? I know land is land is land and it’s only a detail, but could You just cut me a break here? It’s salt in the wound, Lord. I used to be the smart guy at the office. Now I feel like the biggest fool in the county.
“She went through with it?” Dinah balked when Cameron returned to the bakery. “Sandy said George had an idea to finally sell Lullaby Lane by getting someone from out of town to invest in it by its legal name—the something-something extension. And it’s you.” She got a look on her face that was half shock, half amusement. “You bought Lullaby Lane. Man, I thought I was having a bad week.”
Cameron stared around the bakery. His bakery, actually. He now owned cupcakes and lullabies. It’d be hard to think of anything farther from real estate empires and high finance. “I bought a parcel of land called the Route 26 extension. The ‘Lullaby’ part was conveniently omitted.”
Dinah hopped up on the counter and swung her legs over to slide off on the other side. “It’s just a silly name. You look like the kind of guy who can handle a challenge like that. Oh, the oven’s dead. Thanks for asking.”
He stared at her. She was just this side of crazy.
“I reckon you’ll be fine.” She had a completely fake, completely unconvincing look on her face.
He glared until she dissolved into a cascade of giggles.
“Okay, okay, everyone knows it by Lullaby Lane. It’s too sissy a name for all those horsemen and so nobody lives there.”
He widened his stance. “Street names get changed all the time.”
She shook her head, one unruly curl spilling out across her forehead. “Not in this town. Middleburg’s as anti-change as it gets. You have no idea what you’re dealing with here.”
“You have no idea who you’re dealing with here.” He pointed to his chest. “I’ll find a way.”
She pulled some napkins out of a box and started stuffing them into a holder on a table. “Well, suit yourself, but that will take some serious leverage, and y’all only been here—what—two days?”
Cameron walked up and planted his hands on the table. “Well, then it’s a good thing I’ll have resourceful help.” He looked her in the eye. “You can’t afford a new oven, can you?”
“Well,” she replied