Wanted: The Perfect Mom. T. R. McClure
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better than nothing.”
Holly thought about the boy who’d ordered two black coffees. So times were tight at his house. She glanced at the racks filled with bags of fresh bread and boxes of old-fashioned cookies. “How has business been?”
Sue counted the ones, then returned them to the drawer. “Business is good on the weekends but not so great during the week. I’m thinking of opening just two days a week. I saw in the paper the retirement home is looking for a cleaning lady for second shift.”
Holly pressed a hand to her chest. “What about me?”
“I’ll still provide you with baked goods.” Eyes narrowed, she peered over her glasses as she pulled out the fives. “What else do I have to do with my time?”
Holly racked her brain for a subject to pull Sue from her dark mood. “Do you see Josh often? He’s in the army, right?”
“I haven’t seen him since I moved out of the house.” She shook her head. “I like keeping busy. Besides, your little coffee shop is saving my bakery...such as it is.”
Despite Sue’s negative attitude, a warm feeling swept through Holly as she realized that her mom had been right. Her coffee shop was helping create jobs. She just hoped her business continued. Holly glanced up at the cookie jar clock over the counter. “Oh, my goodness, is that the right time?”
Sue answered without looking up. “Yep.”
“I’ve got to run.” Holly backed toward the door. “What time can you have the cinnamon buns ready in the morning?”
“How early do you want them?” Lips tight, the baker slammed the money drawer shut.
“Is six forty-five too early?” Watching her friend’s face, Holly groped behind her for the door handle.
“Not for a baker.” Sue patted the front of her apron, flour dust surrounding her in a cloud. With just the trace of a smile, she waved goodbye. “Thanks again, Holly. I appreciate your business. You’re a lifesaver.”
With an answering smile and a final wave, Holly reached for the door. She had been gone too long already.
MAC COULD SEE HOLLY, arm outstretched, backing toward the door. Realizing she was coming through that door with no idea someone stood on the other side, he stepped away just as the door burst open. Everything would have been fine if someone hadn’t left a flowerpot sitting in the middle of the walkway. With the heel of his boot catching the edge of the pot, Mac found himself cartwheeling toward the edge of the porch.
He had to give Holly credit for a quick reaction. She grabbed the front of his shirt and reversed his momentum. “A little clumsy this morning, Chief.”
The mischievous grin left her face as Mac’s backward motion transferred to forward motion and she found herself pressed to the wall of the bakery. Mac’s hands landed on either side of her head as he tried to prevent himself from smashing into her.
Her expression a mixture of surprise and alarm, Holly shoved at his chest. “What the heck, McAndrews?”
Hands still pressed to the wall, Mac stared at Holly. Her green eyes locked on his face, her lips parted. Mac’s memory brought up a picture of a fifteen-year-old Holly, holding an orange flower in the palm of her hand, smiling up at him. He took a slow breath. “Are you—”
“Get off me, McAndrews. You’re squishing me.”
This time Mac’s jaw dropped. “You grabbed me.” He backed up a step. “And may I remind you who just came plowing through that door like a runaway horse?”
“Did you just call me a horse?” Holly brushed off his hands and pushed past him. “You haven’t changed one bit.”
She stalked down the boardwalk toward the coffee shop. When she reached her door, she turned and shot him a laser beam of a look that sent a shiver up his spine. What was her problem?
He escaped into the bakery and shut the door with a sigh of relief. Holly wasn’t fifteen anymore. She had grown into a strong, smart woman, just as he always knew she would. And if she didn’t like him very much, well, that didn’t come as a surprise.
He glanced at Sue, expecting a smile. Instead, she crossed her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow. “Well, did you find anything out?”
His eyes lighted on the cookie jar clock, hoping against hope it was quitting time.
It wasn’t.
And who was he kidding? No such thing as quitting time for the chief of police.
* * *
HOLLY RACED INTO the shop and slammed the door. Striding over to the counter, she leaned on it and took a deep breath. Why, after six months, was that man suddenly underfoot? She closed her eyes.
She had liked him at first, when Chris brought the new kid to the family Christmas party. Then when she saw him in gym class, everything changed. He was nowhere near the nice, polite boy who helped her father set up the Christmas tree that had fallen victim to one of her brothers’ all-too-common tussles. He had everybody fooled. Everybody except her.
She slapped a hand over her chest and belatedly looked around the room, hoping no customers had observed the owner’s brief foray into madness. No one had. The teens were gone, the blonde was gone and apparently her mother and Louise were gone. Her pounding heart slowed. “Mom?”
A voice wafted from the far corner of the store. “Over here.”
Holly went around a wall divider and peeked into an alcove stacked with books and magazines. Her mother lay sprawled on a beanbag chair, studying a business magazine. Holly propped her hands on her hips. “Comfortable, are we?”
Rose laughed as she struggled to rise from the chair, which kept collapsing as she pushed on it. She reached out a hand. “Pull me up, honey.”
Holly gripped the outstretched hand and pulled. “What were you doing?”
Rose straightened her apron and returned the magazine to a neat pile on a shelf. “I was straightening up this area and I happened to see an article on bed-and-breakfasts. I had to read it.”
“Of course.” Holly followed her mother to the counter. “You should head home anyway. Dad’s probably waiting for his dinner.” She drummed her fingers on the counter as her mother removed her apron. “What’s he up to today?”
Her mother folded the apron into a small square of fabric before answering. “When I left this morning he was putting the finishing touches on the backyard gazebo. He’s always doing something, you know. He can’t seem to sit still.” She rested a hand on Holly’s shoulder. “I’m sure he’ll be down soon, honey. He’s proud of you.”
“He’s so proud of me he refused to offer me the same terms as Sonny and Thomas because he thinks I don’t have business sense.” Her father would rather do hard labor than visit Holly’s coffee shop. He had told her in no uncertain terms that leaving the air force was a mistake, that she should “tough it out.”
“Oh, Holly.”
She squeezed her mother’s hands. “Thank you, Mom, for your help. I wish I had the money to pay you.”
Rose laid a hand on her cheek. “Of course, sweetheart.” She carried the folded apron into the kitchen. When she came out she had two paperback books in her hand and her purse looped over her shoulder. “You don’t owe me anything. Look at all the free books I get to read.”
Laughing, Holly propped both elbows on the counter as her mother passed with a wave. “Wonder who the blonde lady was.” A stranger in their little town stood out and usually ended up being someone’s relative.
Rose paused, her hand on the doorknob. She turned, brow wrinkled