A recluse in need of affection and a television star in need of redemption…
Thirteen years ago, a tragic fire left junior prom queen Eden Tempest orphaned and scarred, inside and out. Now she’s the town recluse—isolated, mysterious and emotionally guarded…the complete opposite of Mason Powers, TV’s most famous renovator. Yet Mason is battling his own rocky past—personal and professional. Eden’s plan to renovate her ill grandmother’s home into a bed-and-breakfast is the perfect opportunity for Mason to get back to work and redeem his reputation. And Eden herself…well, their attraction is undeniable. But is their unexpected connection enough to heal both their traumatic pasts and bring their beauty into the light?
Bonus Story: The Ten-Day Bargain
Chapter One
When Eden Tempest woke up that morning on the first day of May and heard nothing but birds chirping outside her window, she was all smiles. She wrapped her long tresses in a bun, slapped on sunscreen, donned a long-sleeved shirt, shorts, rain boots and a wide-brimmed hat before bounding down the stairs to eat a breakfast bar and gulp down a glass of orange juice. She grabbed her gardening tools and gloves.
“It’s barely six a.m.,” her grandmother Susan called out from her bedroom just behind the kitchen. “Where are you going?”
“The sun is finally out and I’ve got to go check on my rosebushes,” she yelled back.
“I’ll be out in a few.”
“Okay, Grams.”
It sounded like her grandmother was still in bed, which wasn’t like the energetic sixty-nine-year-old. Usually Grams would have had biscuits, gravy and eggs ready and would be getting started on dinner or heading out to the farmers market to purchase fresh produce. But Grams had spent most of the evening before cracking walnuts to make her famous black walnut cake. So, Eden suspected that task had tuckered out the older woman.
Eden ventured through the back door in the kitchen, the screen door swishing shut behind her. She stood still when she saw a family of deer munching by an overgrown thicket and bowed trees near the fence. A bee buzzed by her ear. She tilted her head and swatted at it, her movement causing the deer to flee into the woods nearby.
She tugged her hat low on her face and surveyed the one acre of land, surrounded by the iron fence bent like an elderly person with a hump. There was a dilapidated shed in the right corner, the slats gray and covered in moss, as well as an old gazebo where her grandmother used to host weddings or social gatherings for the town of Blue Hen, Delaware. She could still see the ladies and girls twirling in their bright summer dresses, and the men in casual wear milling about the yard, talking and laughing and eating from the spread on the table in the center of the yard. The last event had been thirteen years ago for Eden’s sixteenth birthday. The day her life and her grandmother’s changed…forever.
That’s why she didn’t celebrate birthdays.
Her eyes misted. She dipped her head and turned to look at the once-majestic two-story, seven-bedroom bed-and-breakfast, with the paint chipped and blackened with soot. The gutters needed cleaning and the vines had claimed a lot of the room. No wonder the people of Blue Hen called their house haunted, especially after… Nope. It was best for her psyche if she stopped thinking about it. It took some effort, but she shrugged off the gargantuan memories and stomped through high grass and weeds to the best-kept area in the backyard: her rose garden.
She inhaled, appreciating the smell of fresh rain and the heat of the sun. It had rained for three days and she feared her rosebushes had been overwatered. They weren’t due to bloom until June, right on time for the yearly rose festival. Eden prided herself on having the most fragrant and beautiful roses in town. Every year, for the past ten years, her roses had won first prize at the Blue Hen Rose Fest and this year would be no different. Hopefully. If the rain hadn’t caused irreparable damage.
Carefully, she lifted the bushes and squatted low to inspect the roots. There was no evidence of rotting, a common result of overwatering. Eden exhaled, her shoulders slumping. She steadied herself to keep from falling on her butt. Wearing tan-colored shorts might not have been the right choice, seeing as how the earth was damp and wet. Next, she checked the leaves to see if they had yellowed or were spotted. She saw nothing but green. Yes!
She stood and wiped her hands on her shorts before grabbing the small bench she kept by the back door and started her pruning. She snipped and shaped and removed dead tissue; doting on her roses, ignoring the sun rays on her back and the sweat pouring from every crevice of her body. By the time she was finished, her boots and hands were covered in mud, three hours had passed and her skin was the shade of bronze.
She needed a tall, cold glass of water. And a shower.
Stepping back, Eden stood to take in the results of her labor, wiping her hands on her shorts. Beautiful. She pumped her fists. All this would be worth it when her grandmother came home with the first-prize trophy to put with the others on the mantel.
Speaking of her grandmother… Eden raced back into the house and tugged off her boots.
“Grams!” she yelled, but all was quiet. Her grandmother was nowhere about, and it was close to nine thirty. That was odd.
She washed her hands in one of the deep double sinks and helped herself to a tall glass of water then scuttled into her grandmother’s room to find Grams nestled under the covers.
Eden heard a moan. “Are you all right?”
“My tummy hurts,” Grams said, her body curled, her voice weak.
“Should I call Dr. Goodwin?” Eden crept closer. Her grandmother’s face was beaded with sweat.
“No, it was probably the ice cream I ate last night.” Grams was seriously lactose intolerant but that didn’t stop her from indulging in the treat.
“Let me get you some tea,” Eden offered, her heart beating fast in her chest. She couldn’t remember when she had ever seen her grandmother bedridden. Grams must have eaten the entire pint. Unless it something more serious. Eden put on the kettle using the front burner that worked. The right one had stopped working about a year ago. The walls, painted buttercup yellow, the matching checkered curtains—slightly tattered—and the worn appliances could use an upgrade. Grams hadn’t changed anything in close to fourteen years. It was like the house had been frozen in time since her parents’ passing.
Opening the cupboard, Eden searched for a mug that wasn’t chipped then dug into the drawer next to the stove for a spoon. She rifled through the different kinds of teas in a jar on the countertop—chamomile, Earl Grey, lemon—until she found a bag of ginger-and-honey. Please let this solve whatever ails Grams.
Eden lifted the lid of the cake stand where her grandmother stored freshly baked scones then placed one on a plate. Eden chose a large orange from the fruit basket on the tiled counter, her gaze falling on the oversize wall calendar and the big X on the date.
June 26. Her thirtieth birthday.
Her stomach knotted, and her hands shook as she cut into the orange and rested the slices on the plate. “It’s just another day,” she said, voice shaky. She drew deep, long breaths. “You’ll be all right.” Eden needed to make a tele-appointment with her therapist, who she used to see weekly until she had transitioned to an as-needed basis.
The kettle whistled and she poured the ginger-and-honey tea into the cup, the spoon making a light clink as she stirred. She gathered a wooden lap tray and placed the tea, the orange slices and some crackers on it, before making her way to the back room, rattling along the way and set it on the nightstand. Grams appeared to be sleeping. Eden touched her grandmother’s forehead and gasped. Fever. Hot, roasting fever.
This was definitely not lactose intolerance.
She tried to shake Grams awake but the older woman was pretty lethargic. Panic raced through Eden’s body. Her grandmother wouldn’t approve but she called Dr. Goodwin from their landline since she didn’t own a cell phone. What was the point? She never went anywhere. Eden did, however, have the most up-to-date computer. But that was because she needed it to teach her online courses for Blue Hen College. Eden taught English literature and composition courses to college freshmen and sophomores.
Twenty minutes later, she opened the front door, making sure to keep her neck semihidden, and the doctor went in to check on Grams. Eden used that time to shower, wash her hair and slip into a blue long-sleeved baby doll dress. She put on her hat and hurried down the stairs just in time to hear the bedroom door creak open.
In a flash, Eden was by his side. “Is Grams all right?”
He shook his head, his tone grim. “She’s been doing too much. I’m putting her on bed rest for now.”
Bed rest? “What’s wrong?” she asked, wringing her hands.
“You’ll have to talk with your grandmother about that,” he said, marching toward the door.
“Wait,” Eden called out. “Is it me? Did I somehow cause this?”
“No, my child. She’s almost seventy. Some things happen with age. Talk to her.”
“Okay, I will. I can’t lose her,” she whispered. “She’s all I have.”
Doctor Goodwin, the town physician, and the only one besides her grandmother who she trusted, gave Eden a look of compassion. “This house is too big for the both of you to manage by yourselves. You should think of hiring some help.”
Eden stepped back and lifted a hand. She watched the exact moment his eyes took in her scars and shoved her hands in the pockets of her dress. “No one will want to work in the haunted house, and I—I can’t be seen like this. I’m gossip fodder.”
“Dear, there’s more to you than what’s on the outside,” the doctor said. “There’s a whole world out there for you to enjoy.”
“I won’t be ridiculed or be made into the town laughingstock again.” She shuddered, remembering how she had been taunted and teased when she had ventured into town after the fire.
“That was almost thirteen years ago. Things are different now. Even you’re different,” he urged. “You’re not the same person you were all those nights ago. It’s time you forgive yourself.” Every time the doctor came to visit, he urged Eden to step out of her self-imposed cocoon. This house had become her haven since that fateful day. She never left, a prisoner of her past and fears.
“People don’t change,” she said, walking over to hold open the door. “And as for forgiving myself…” She shook her head, unable to continue from the heartache and guilt.
“Think about it. You don’t want to end up alone, filled with regret for what you didn’t do or should have done.” After giving her a pat on her cheek, the doctor departed.
Eden trudged into the room to talk with her grandmother. Grams was now sitting up and sipping the tea. Grams’s mother had been Chinese and her Jamaican father had been biracial, mixed with Black so Grams had inherited her mother’s tiny frame and her father’s olive color. Grams got a kick out people always trying to figure out her race. She would quip I belong to the human race every time they asked. Eden’s mother had looked a lot like Grams while Eden had inherited her own father’s height. Eden’s father had been from Louisiana, and she had inherited his red curly hair, his cognac-colored eyes and skin the color of sun-kissed sand. She felt like a giant next to Grams, standing at five-feet-eleven to Grams’s five-feet-two. Grams would often say Eden had legs for days and beauty for a lifetime, which was why she had been crowned Junior Prom Queen at her high school. But that was history, a lifetime ago,
“Come sit here next to me, baby,” Grams said, putting the cup down and patting the bed. Her long black hair hung to her shoulders and she looked frail.
Eden complied. “What’s going on, Grams?” she asked, her lips quivering. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“I’m not well. I…” She averted her eyes. “Dr. Goodwin ran some tests. We aren’t sure what’s wrong but I’ve got to take it easy.”
“How long have you been feeling like this?” Eden asked, scooting close, inhaling the powder-and-lavender scent her grandmother always wore.
“I’ve known for a while but I didn’t want to scare you.” Grams wiped her eyes. “I’ve got a good amount of matured certificates of deposits and most of your parents’ death benefits saved but I’m worried about how you’re going to maintain this property long-term. I think it’s time we consider selling this place so you can have those funds when I’m gone.”
Eden touched her chest. “No. No. We can’t sell. This has been in our family for decades. That’s out of the question. Besides, I make good money teaching online.”
“That’s not enough to cover your living expenses. If you don’t want to sell, then we’ve got to get the bed-and-breakfast going again. It would mean so much to me to restore this house as one of the best places to visit in town.” Grams’s voice wobbled. “You don’t know how much it hurts to have the neighborhood kids call this place haunted.”
Every Halloween, they had their house egged or papered.
Though her insides quaked at the thought of strangers traipsing through their home, Eden nodded. “After all you have done for me, how can I say no?” She gave a little laugh. “I just don’t want to repulse the guests.”
Her grandmother lifted the hat off Eden’s face and ran her fingers down the scar leading from Eden’s neck down to her left arm and hands. Eden sat still, clenching her jaw.
“You don’t see what I see,” Grams whispered. “You’re beautiful, inside and out. I wish you would believe me when I tell you that.”
Eden looked down at her hands and changed the subject. “The roses are going to be magnificent this year.”
“They aren’t the only thing that’s magnificent. In time, my dear, I hope you’ll truly see how valuable, how priceless you are.” With a sigh, her grandmother drew Eden into her arms and kissed the top of her head. For someone who was burning up not too long ago, Grams felt cool. Odd. Maybe Dr. Goodwin had given her something. “Now let’s get back to the house. We need to put an ad in the town paper, hire a handyman of sorts… Maybe you can make a flyer.”
All she could do was nod, watching Grams’s flashing eyes as she went on about her plans for the bed-and-breakfast. Eden didn’t have the heart to tell her that no one would come. Because no one wanted to work for the girl they called the town monster.
Chapter Two
Even a beast deserved a second chance. But his producers didn’t think so. His fans didn’t think so. And his rumored married lover didn’t think so, either.
Mason Powers sat the computer desk off the living-room area and read the email from his agent for the fourth time then bunched his fists. His television show, Powers Property Rescue, based in Columbus, Ohio, had been put on hiatus—which was code for canceled—while they worked out his severance pay.
The sad thing was, he was solely to blame.
He had let the fame and the fortune swell his head. Now he was hiding out from everyone at his agent’s home in Blue Hen since the scandal broke. Who lived in Delaware? But he couldn’t complain because no one, especially his estranged brother, wanted to have anything to do with him—and though Mason had good reason, he couldn’t blame Max.
The chair scraped the floor when he stood and with every step the wood creaked. However, the plumbing and structure in the home was sound. Plus, all the appliances worked. He walked to the window. There was nothing but woods and cornfields for miles with the odd house here and there.
Ugh. He had only been there a week, but Mason had to get out and talk to someone. He couldn’t stand his own company at the moment. All he had done was watch the video circling the internet of him giving one of the workers from his show a serious put-down before firing him. All because the man had selected the wrong tile for their home renovation. That’s right. Mason admitted his behavior had been ghastly but that didn’t mean someone should have photoshopped him into a fire-breathing dragon. The internet was ruthless. And he was a joke.
Before he was jobless, Mason was a sought-after home renovator, handling both the interior and exterior redesign, until he had been dubbed The Ogre of Ohio. His weekly show had been sitting pretty at the number three spot on cable television but had since plummeted into oblivion right along with his job prospects.
Everyone had left him.
Except for his agent, Lydia.
His supposed girlfriend had blocked him on social media and on her cell phone. Not that he minded. The media had made more of their relationship than what was true.
He stormed over to the table, stuck his cap on his head and grabbed the keys to his four-wheel drive pickup before starting up the engine. He backed out of the driveway with force, loving how the gravel spewed in his wake down the long driveway. Whew. Mason took a deep breath and decelerated once he was out on the main road, if one could call the narrow strip of pavement that. He remembered passing a deli and a department store a couple miles back and headed in that direction. Three miles later, all he saw was land. He must have made a wrong turn. Since there was no one else around, Mason decided to execute a U-turn. The minute he did that, he heard a loud pop.
Pop. Squish. Pop. Squish.
The sounds of his right front tire losing air.
Mason inched onto the curb and cut the engine. He dug into his jeans pocket for his cell phone but there was no service. Slamming a hand on the steering wheel, he shoved the door open with enough force that it swung on its hinges. Then he stomped over to investigate the damage before kicking the hubcap. There was a deep gash, which meant he was stuck here.
Clamping his jaw, he had no choice but to start walking. It was high noon and it was hot. His fury escalated with each step. A half mile down the road, he stopped by a rickety fence, bent low enough that he wondered why the owners hadn’t just ripped it out. Then he looked at the house about an eighth of a mile from the gate. It was an odd shade of green. No. It looked like it might have been a light gray before all the moss and dried-up vines covered the house. And the lawn! The lawn had to be about eighteen inches high. If it weren’t for the 1970s pickup in the yard, he would have thought the property had been abandoned. He wiped a hand on his jeans. It probably should be condemned and it was an echo of the desolation he felt.
The numbers on the mailbox said 345 and the street sign said Middle of Nowhere. This couldn’t be real. Someone in this town had a ridiculous sense of humor.
Slowly, he made his way up the extended driveway, half-expecting a ghoul or some relative of the Addams Family to jump out at him. But he hoped they had a restroom, so he didn’t have to whizz on the side of the road. The closer he got, the more he saw that needed fixing.
On the porch, there was a huge sign on a couch the color of lizard green that said Middle of Nowhere Bed-and-Breakfast. He rolled his eyes. Really?
Running up the three steps to the porch, Mason then pressed the doorbell several times before deciding to rap on the door. He cupped his face and peered into the window. Someone was in there. Someone hovered close.
“Hello? Can you please let me in?” he asked.
“Go—go away,” a voice said from the other side of the door. “We don’t want your business and I’ve already found Jesus. He was never lost.”
Mason cracked up. “I’m not selling anything. I broke down a couple miles back and I really have to use the bathroom. I rang the doorbell…”
“It doesn’t work.”
Figures. He was not surprised.
After a brief moment, the door cracked open and all he could see was a single suspicious eye trained on him. Mason lifted his hands. “Please, I don’t have service around here and I need to get a new tire.”
“Eden, let the poor man inside,” another voice called out.
“Yes, Eden, please let me in,” Mason echoed.
She opened the door and spun away before could get a good look at his rescuer. He stepped across the threshold and gasped. It was like he had stepped back in time. The furnishings and decorations were outdated. He would bet some of the art and decor was from the early eighties. He tilted his head. The foundation appeared to be secure but this place needed some serious TLC. It wasn’t dirty. In fact, he could see the glasses sparkling in the wall unit nearby. It was that they were…dated. Definitely not antique, which would be considered chic.
This place needed an overhaul.
“Well, are you going to stand there gazing or are you going to go handle your business?”
Mason jumped. “I’m sorry. I was just taking it all in.”
An older woman stood leaning against the wall and crooked her head. Her eyes shone and her smile seemed friendly. “Came to see the haunted house for yourself, huh?”
“What? I don’t know what you mean.” He shook his head. He had better get out of here. “Where is your restroom, please?”
She pointed to the left. “You can see your way out when you’re done.” With that she shuffled off in the opposite direction. The younger woman had also ventured off, though he felt eyes on him. She was probably lurking close by to make sure he didn’t take anything. With a shrug, Mason walked down the narrow hallway and opened the first door he found. Luckily, it was a half bath smaller than a linen closet. He dipped his head, shut the door and clamped a hand over his mouth.
Pink. Frilly, pink curtains with a matching toilet seat cover. If he were on his show, he would be feigning outrage and ripping these off and tossing them out on the lawn.
He relieved himself and washed his hands before bending down to peer into the mirror made to accommodate someone of a much shorter stature. Goodness. This place needed…him. It could be magnificent.
Drying his hands with a paper towel placed on top of the toilet cistern, Mason then opened the door and returned to the living-room area. Wow. No one was around. They really were going to let a stranger roam their house at will. Unbothered. Unconcerned. Unheard of in this day and time.
“The exit is to your right,” someone said from the staircase. Curious, Mason advanced and held onto the banister. “What are you doing?” Her voice sounded shaky, unsure.
“I just wanted to say thank you,” he said. “I’m new here in town.” He could see her shadow as she lurked by the turn. Talk about shy. Skittish.
He placed a foot on the step.
“Where are you going?” she asked, sounding fearful.
“Sorry.” He took off his cap and ran his fingers through his damp coils. “Do you think I could have some water?”
A hand pointed in no specific direction. “Go help yourself in the kitchen. It’s just past the living room. Have a scone. You must be hungry.”
“All right, thank you.” Mason followed her directions, feeling slightly uneasy. This has got to be the weirdest encounter he had ever had. And in his line of work—well, former line of work—Mason had met some folks with strange quirks. He entered the kitchen and saw three beautiful scones beckoning to him from under a glass cake stand.
His stomach growled. He hadn’t eaten anything but a banana that morning. Mouth watering, Mason walked toward the counter. He felt like he was living a real-life version of a thriller film and the drawn blinds and dark interior added to the overall mystique. If he ate one of the desserts, would he pass out and wake up bound and gagged?
Then he chuckled. His imagination was putting in overtime. But it sort of felt like the place was enchanted. Mason took out his cell phone, relieved to see he had bars. He made a quick call to get a tow truck. Mason bit into one of the tastiest, fluffiest treats he had ever had. He groaned.
“Delicious, isn’t it?”
Once again, he jumped, this time fumbling to keep the treat from falling to the floor. The elderly woman had returned. “Yes, very,” he said, taking another bite. “I didn’t hear you approach.”
Her lips quirked. He suspected she quite enjoyed spooking him out. She picked up a leg. “It’s the socks.”
“Grams, you need to be in bed.” From the corner of his eye, Mason saw a wide-brimmed hat and half of a body.
“Nonsense,” Grams said, walking to the refrigerator. He noticed she was moving slow and was hunched over. “We have to entertain our visitor. Don’t get much of them for the past thirteen years. Well, none, actually. Not since the fire.” She took out a jug of lemonade and fetched a glass. Coming over to hand it to him, she said, “And such a handsome one at that. What’s your name, sugar?”
“Mason,” he said, mouth full of food. “Mason Powers.”
“He’s new in town,” the younger woman added. Her voice was light, airy, melodic.
“Yes, I realize that,” Grams said, all smiles. “You can call me Susan and my granddaughter’s name is Eden.” Then she grabbed her stomach and screeched as if she were in pain. “I’d better get back into bed. Come back soon, okay?”
He nodded. “I will, Ms. Susan.” He sure as heck wouldn’t.
The other woman scuttled over, keeping her head bent under that ginormous hat, and helped her grandmother out of the room. Finished with the snack, he took a taste of the most scrumptious, tart-yet-sweet-at-the-same-time lemonade he had ever had. De-li-cious.
Well, if this place was enchanted and he was stuck here for life, he would be happy with the food. Mason decided to grab another scone and leaned against the counter to savor the treat. His eyes fell on a small stack of letter-size posters. The words Help Wanted caught his attention. He picked it up.
It looked like they were seeking a contractor.
“What are you doing?” a voice boomed.
Startled, the paper fell from his hands to the floor. What was up with people sneaking up on him? It was the young lady who refused to give her name. “I see you’re looking someone to restore your bed-and-breakfast back to its former glory,” he said, quoting the words on the flyer.
She folded her hands. “And what’s it to you?”
“Turns out, you’re in luck. I’m well qualified, overqualified actually, but I’ll take the job. I specialize in home makeovers.” Mason doubted she had ever watched his show.
“You’re hired,” he heard Ms. Susan yell from the back room.
Eden rolled her eyes but didn’t refute her grandmother. He could see that she wanted to though. Badly.
Mason popped the scone into his mouth, wiped his hands on his jeans and stuck out his hand. “I can start tomorrow.”
She drew to her full height and whipped her hat off her head, her eyes glaring, challenging him. He was struck by her beauty and those incredible eyes. Then he saw the scar on her neck and his heart twisted. Mason wondered what had happened to her. He took a step toward her.
Eden lifted a hand, her eyes daring. “Are you sure you want to work here for the town’s beast?”
Ah… He knew a thing about being a beast. But it was obvious: her scars were on the outside. His were deeper, darker. She stood, chest heaving, proud, defiant and…vulnerable. He reached out to touch her but before he made contact, she shirked away from him. She bent over to retrieve her hat, placing it just so, so that it hid her face and neck.
“I can start tomorrow,” he repeated, gently. “Now I’m sure fate brought me here.”
“Suit yourself. Stay out of my way,” she snarled and stomped out of the room.
Oh but he had no intention of doing that. Mason intended to be in her way. Very much in her way.
Chapter Three
She had looked him up on his website. He was legit. And, she was guessing, expensive.
“We can’t afford him, Grams. He’s in the big leagues and won’t be satisfied with the small-town life,” she said to her grandmother the next morning as she stood by the doorjamb of Grams’s bedroom with a huge amount of glee. That was her first argument. The second she wouldn’t bring up unless she had to.
Eden didn’t know what it was about the tall, lean man with skin the color of ebony, warm brown eyes, and those black, luscious coils that made her insides jump like grasshoppers. Um, she did know, using words like luscious to describe his hair. He was sexy, attractive, and the worst part was, he knew it.
No way could she chance that beautiful specimen looking at her with…with repulsion. That’s why she planned on staying out of his way if Mason was about to be a fixture in their house. Having him there for hours on end meant she would have to quarantine in her room. The thought of that made her grit her teeth. Although she occupied the largest of the four suites on the second floor, she didn’t relish not having free rein of the house.
“Let’s hear him out first,” Grams whispered, huddling further under her blanket. “I have money saved up for this.” Eden shoved down her concerns for her grandmother’s welfare. She had checked on Grams multiple times through the night until Grams had told her she was all right and to quit her fussing.
“I can put up the flyers tonight and see if we get someone else,” Eden said instead, stepping inside. She wasn’t about to go out when everyone was about and the thought of doing so caused her heart to hammer and her palms to sweat.
Grams pinned sharp eyes on Eden. “You said yourself no one would want to work here. I thought you would be relieved that we’ve found someone without trying. Someone who showed up on our doorstep at the right time.” Then Grams’s eyes went wide and she placed a hand over her mouth. “You like him?”
Eden backtracked. Leave it to her grandmother to pinpoint her real dilemma. “I—I—No, of course not. What’s there to like?” His eyes, his smile, those hands, those lips.
“Oh plenty. Plenty, my child. My eyes work just fine.” Grams sat up and Eden clenched her fists to keep from helping.
“It’s my body that has a mind of its own,” she huffed, out of breath.
“Yes, I can see that.” Eden inched her way inside, deciding not to continue that conversation track around Mason’s good looks. Thankfully, her grandmother didn’t either. Besides, if she had thought about him till the wee hours of the night, and if she took extra care with her clothing choice this morning, she would never admit it.
What she would talk about was the other disturbing news she had learned about their new contractor. She cleared her throat. “Grams, I think you need to know that Mason isn’t as charming as he appears. He got fired from his television show because, and I quote, he is the Ogre of Ohio. He mistreated his employees and there’s a clip of his bad behavior all over the internet.”
“Pshaw. That’s nothing but gossip. You should know better than anyone that you can’t believe everything you hear. How many lies have been told about us through town?”
Shame coursed through her. “But this is different. They have an actual video of his misbehaving.”
Her grandmother raised a brow. “Everyone deserves a second chance, don’t you agree?”
Yes, how she had yearned for one. How she had ached for her friends to treat her with kindness, instead of looking at her in horror. Eden knew that look on Grams’s face. Nothing would change her mind. Eden lifted a hand. “All right. All right. I’ll leave it alone, but I plan to keep my eyes on him.”
“Yes, I think that’s what you need to do,” Grams said with a chuckle.
Eden rolled her eyes. “That’s not what I—” She flashed a hand. “Ugh, forget it. Do you want me to make you some tea and bring you something to eat?” It was now close to six and she had to check on her roses but she needed to make sure Grams ate first. Eden would eat after she was finished in the garden. Then she would log online to meet with her freshman Composition classes to review before their final the following week.
Grams yawned. “No, I’m good. I just need some rest. I think chopping those walnuts the other day did me in.” Um, that wouldn’t cause a fever or her being bedridden but Eden wouldn’t argue. “Ugh. I’m supposed to make some black walnut cakes for Doc and Kyle.” Kyle worked for Vic’s Grocers, the main supermarket in Blue Hen, as their delivery boy.
“I am going to order a couple bags of walnuts from Vic’s, so you don’t have to deal with those anymore.”
The fact that Vic’s was housed on a farm meant they often had a great supply of fresh fruit and veggies and Eden planned to get some watermelons, corn, and a couple bags of cherries. Corn was a must. No one had been happier than Eden when Vic’s had finally caught up with the rest of the world and opened up for online shopping and delivery. Now Grams wouldn’t have to drive all the way into town on her own, schlepping bags. Eden made sure to stay out of sight during the drop-off. But with Grams being sick, she would put in a request for Kyle to drop the bags and go. The young man would gladly comply as he tended to spray dust from speeding when he vacated their yard.
Grams closed her eyes. “All right. Whatever you think is best.”
Those words gave her pause. Her Grams never gave in that easy. “Are you okay, Grams?”
“Yes,” she said, nodding, her voice slightly weaker than it had been moments before. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that tea after all.”
“Sure thing.” Eden rushed to prepare the brew, tugging her lower lip through her teeth. After getting her grandmother situated with breakfast and her antibiotics, Eden went outside. Surprisingly, the earth felt moist under her boots. Then she recalled the light pinging of raindrops she had heard while checking on Grams and sighed. If this rain kept up, the Rose Fest might not happen this year. She sloshed through the small puddles and squatted near the bush before letting out a gasp.
The leaves near the root of the bush had holes in them.
Rose slugs.
So much for the coffee grounds, and they were out of coffee beans. Eden rushed inside to get a spray bottle, water and vinegar. Seconds later, chest heaving, she realized there was no vinegar. She slapped her forehead. She had used the last of it the week before. She trounced up the stairs to see if she could add it to her online order, but it was too late. Dashing back down the steps, Eden eyed the truck keys on the key ring by the front door. She could borrow the keys and rush into town. It was early enough that her chances of seeing anyone were slim. Maybe she could order and get curbside delivery. Either way she needed to get moving before she had no leaves left.
Eden grabbed the keys between her hands and opened the front door, then froze. Her legs stayed rooted to the ground and her stomach felt hollow. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t leave her self-imposed exile, not even for her beloved roses.
She shut the door and bunched her fists. She was going to spray them with the water hose and remove the slugs one by one if she had to. Eden hated touching the slick critters but what choice did she have? Swinging around, she stomped toward the back of the house. Just before she walked through the door, the house phone rang.
She scurried over to answer just in case it was the doctor calling. But it wasn’t Dr. Goodwin’s voice she heard. It was the one who made her stomach quiver.
“Hello, I was calling to see if you needed anything. I have to stop at the department store before coming there,” Mason said. “You all live a good distance away, so I thought I’d ask.”
She squinted at the phone, feeling suspicious for no reason at his impeccable timing, when this was of course a coincidence. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell Mason she didn’t need anything and hang up, but her roses gave her pause. “Y-yes. I could use a bottle of vinegar, some baking soda and some coffee beans for my rose garden. I-I’ll pay you back when you get here.” Then with a quick thank you, she hung up the phone. Touching her chest, she drew deep breaths. Just talking to him had raised her heart rate. How was she going to survive having him around?
The phone rang again.
She fluttered her lashes. If that was him again…
It was the head of the English department, Dr. Loft. “Eden? We need to talk. One of your students, Naomi Bush, has lodged a complaint against you for biased grading. She says you gave her a lower grade over another student for the same assignment.”
Biased grading? Eden gripped the phone before placing it closer to her ear. “I don’t understand. I use a rubric for grading, and I go over all the expectations plus I offer extended office hours. Naomi never took me up on it. In fact, she has missed the last two classes.” Sweat lined her brow. In her three years of working for them, she had never had any complaints. Anger whirled in her chest, but she couldn’t let her temper get the best of her.
“I understand and I know how much you do for your students, but she is adamant that this is the case and is demanding a regrade. She is sending me both papers to look over to prove her case. Let’s set a meeting for the three of us can discuss everything. How about you come in next week?”
Panic lined her stomach like rocks on the ocean. “C-can we set something up online instead?” That way Eden could go on camera and still hide in the shadows. She had the perfect vantage point in her room.
“I really think you should come in person, my dear.”
“I—I…” She inhaled and raked her teeth across her bottom lip. “I have a lot going on here. Please can we meet online next week? I have a few days after the finals before I need to submit final grades so we can meet anytime after then.”
There was a brief pause before Dr. Loft agreed. “I’ll send you the login information. Look out for my email.”
Relief curved her shoulders. “Great. I’ll wait to hear from you.”
“While I have you on the phone, I’d like for us to have a conversation on another matter,” Dr. Loft said, raising Eden’s anxiety levels all over again. But this time, she had an idea what this was about. The college had been pressuring her to accept a full tenure position but that would mean taking on face-to-face courses and she didn’t do…in person. Though her therapist urged her to do so, constantly told her, she wasn’t ready.
“Sure. We can talk after Naomi,” she said, when Dr. Loft brought up that very issue.
“Okay. That will work. Look out for the invite.”
Eden hung up the phone. Her eyes fell on one of the flyers advertising for the position and she curled her fists. She dipped her head to her chest. If her job forced her to come in person, she would have to quit. She didn’t have the level of confidence to overcome the looks of disgust and the derision when the students saw her scars, learned her past. It looked like they were going to need Mason after all. And she hated needing anyone, having learned the only person she could depend on was herself…and Grams.
A small sliver of jealousy coursed through her. Mason had been called a beast, like she had been. But the difference was, he appeared to be…trying. He had grabbed this opportunity at a job. A do-over. While she was stuck here in the past.
No.
She was at a good place now in the present. It had taken her years to achieve this kind of…self-acceptance. She saw no reason to change that status quo. But it appeared as if she might not have a choice.
Except from A BEAUTY IN THE BEAST by Michelle Lindo-Rice. This material is protected by copyright.
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