Winter Interlude (California Series) Read online

  Published by Sandy Loyd

  Copyright 2012 Sandy Loyd

  Cover design by Inspire Creative Services

  Interior layout: www.formatting4U.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from the author at [email protected]. This book is a work of fiction. The characters, events, and places portrayed in this book are products of the author’s imagination and are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  For more information on the author and her works, please see www.SandyLoyd.com

  This book is also available in print from some online retailers.

  Dedication

  Winter Interlude is dedicated to everyone who helped me on my journey.

  To my sister, Jeannette Antry and my husband Bill – both loved the rough ‘first draft’

  and have been my ardent supporters ever since.

  To my critique partners, Leslie Lynch, Caroline Fyffe and Lisa Tapp,

  who helped smooth out those rough edges.

  And finally, to Pam Berehulke, my copy editor who took a good story

  and made it better. Thank you all!

  Chapter 1

  Kate Winters winced and resisted the urge to say “Careful!” as the big burly guy hit a bump on his way down the truck’s ramp, jarring the Victorian-era rolltop desk. The second the wheels hit even ground, she released the breath she’d been holding and followed him inside her shop, Yesterday’s Treasures.

  Her cell phone rang. Glancing down, she frowned. She had a strong urge to ignore the caller and concentrate on her delivery. Instead, she sighed, pressed Answer, and said, “Hey, Mom. What’s up?”

  “Hi, sweetie. Chrissie just texted you the pictures of the bridesmaids’ dresses she picked out. You’re maid of honor, so she wants your approval. Will you take a look so we can order them today?”

  “Sure. Hold on a minute.” She tamped down the bit of envy that sprang free every time she thought of her sister’s engagement, and brought up the text message to scroll through the photos. After all, Chrissie deserved to be happy. It’s just that she always figured she would beat her younger sister to the altar. That she obviously wasn’t going to had been a wake-up call.

  “So,” her mother said, interrupting her thoughts. “What do you think?”

  Kate refocused on the dress and smiled at the color. Rose, Chrissie’s favorite. “I love the style, and that shade of pink should enhance everyone’s complexions.” Even hers, she added mentally, while her mother chatted about the wedding plans. Thankfully, Tippy Winters didn’t mention her true opinion regarding her older daughter’s still-single status—that after dating the same man since college, it was well past time for marriage.

  She glanced back at the truck. Peter, whose name was embroidered above the pocket of his work shirt, had already unloaded several pieces. “Look, Mom, I’ve got a deliveryman here and I need to tell him where to put my pieces.” Tippy never tired of voicing her disapproval, and Kate didn’t have time for the same old lecture about not getting any younger.

  “Okay, dear. We’ll talk later.”

  Kate disconnected. It was bad enough to hear her mom’s voice inside her head saying her eggs wouldn’t stay fresh forever. “Like I don’t already have enough to worry about,” she grumbled as she headed out to the truck.

  Peter loaded up the last piece and scuttled down the ramp like he was going to a fire. Once inside, he angled the hand truck in the opposite corner of where she’d asked him to unload the furniture.

  “Wait,” she said in her firmest voice.

  He slowed his forward momentum and spared her a glance.

  She smiled sweetly, going for the ‘poor little old me’ routine, batted her eyes and pointed. “Would you mind placing it in that corner like I wanted?”

  “I’m a delivery guy, not a mover,” he said, his tone snide, and turned the hand truck containing the heavy eighteenth-century armoire toward the chest and other items he’d unloaded.

  “You’re also a jerk,” she said under her breath. She counted to ten, but it did little good to ease her annoyance. “Back up, bucko.” Determined he would honor her request, she squared her shoulders. “I suggest you put the armoire over there.”

  After throwing her another brief glance, he stopped, none too pleased with the interruption.

  This time her expression said, Don’t mess with me. “Otherwise, I’m calling your supervisor.” It was an empty threat, but he didn’t have to know that. A complaint to his boss would generate bad karma. She wasn’t into causing anyone to lose a source of income in this economy. It was simply that moving the furniture to where she’d indicated would be far easier for him than for her. She was five foot two and weighed a hundred pounds, soaking wet. This guy had to be at least a hundred and fifty pounds heavier, and towered over her by nearly a foot.

  He begrudgingly changed directions and she offered another smile, this one more fake than a Gucci knockoff. “I appreciate your help.” At least Peter hadn’t dropped or scratched anything. She wondered where her regular guy was. “Do you know if Tony will be back on the route soon?” She gritted her teeth to hold her smile in place, doing her darnedest to remain pleasant, the entire time praying Tony hadn’t quit.

  “How do I know? I’m just a—”

  “Delivery guy. Yeah, I got that.”

  He yanked the hand truck out from under the armoire. “That should do it.”

  Kate signed the delivery release form and handed the clipboard back to him.

  “I’ll be sure to tell your supervisor how much help you were,” she said to his departing back, as he trudged out the rear entrance. “When hell freezes over,” she muttered, as she locked the door behind him, then grabbed her own hand truck. Peter could definitely use a few pointers from Tony on his customer service skills.

  She returned to the showroom, kicked off her pointed-toe high heels, and began with the rolltop desk. The first step of leaning it back onto the hand truck took some doing. Holding the heavy piece firmly in place with one hand and pushing the awkward load with the other, she angled it toward the perfect corner. Nearly dropping it twice along the way, she slowly set the hand truck upright but quickly tightened her grip to stop the load from hitting the floor too hard. With a greater respect for Peter, she used as much strength as she could muster to inch the desk into place. Satisfied, she steered the hand truck back across the room to tackle the rest of the delivered pieces.

  She set the last item, a Chippendale table, next to a Victorian sofa and stood back, sighing contentedly. She brushed the dust off her skirt and then made a slow circle around the new pieces, touching each one reverently, as she imagined others of bygone generations had done.

  After all this time, my shop is in the black and doing well! Her dream was finally coming true. Even though it had been four years since she opened, the same feeling of accomplishment swept over her whenever she took stock of any new inventory. All of these antiques were hers, at least until they sold, which wouldn’t take long.

  She rolled her aching shoulders and stepped into her shoes on her way to the cash register. One more chore, then I can get off my feet. Her day started early. She hadn’t stopped from the moment she arrived in the store that morning.

  Not wanting to dwell on her mother’s call or her sister’s upcoming wedding, she counted out the day’s receipts, happy with the week’s gross. Yesterday’s T
reasures’ customers didn’t seem to mind that her shop was in a shabby section of San Bruno, a city on the outskirts of San Francisco. She had several ladies in mind who would probably snap up most of her recent purchases, and increase her profit margin at the same time.

  Kate worked her tail off for years building her reputation. Now her sales were strong and steady, providing a decent salary, enough to live in one of the nicest areas of an expensive city. As long as she was frugal—which she was.

  Done with her receipts, Kate let herself out and locked the front door after setting the state-of-the-art security system, her one big splurge. Before starting the car, she checked her smartphone to see if James had texted her. Nothing. A twinge of disappointment fluttered inside as she typed a quick message to say hi and to ask about their plans for the next day. After all, she had no problem communicating. Her long-term boyfriend did. As much as she tried to pretend his inattention didn’t matter, thoughts of the decisions she’d made while on her buying trip kept intruding on her good mood. It had been over a month since they’d spent any quality time together, and even then, James had been distracted and distant.

  This might not mean anything, she reminded herself, as she backed out of her parking space. I knew he’d be busy working. He’s on a deadline with his latest project, which is due on Monday morning. His lack of communication will not get me down. Thankfully, her mental pep talk worked and, as she drove to the bank, she banished all thoughts of James Morrison from her mind.

  Her deposits safely made, she sped toward San Francisco via Highway 101. Traffic was light for a Friday commute. She exited the freeway, weaved through city streets, and turned into the lot at the Safeway not far from her Marina District apartment in half of the usual twenty minutes. She headed into the grocery store, having almost forgotten her earlier promise to pick up a few items for her next-door neighbor.

  Soon she was back on the road. At her street, she slowly circled the block three times, then sighed. The daily chore of searching for a parking spot was one of the downsides to living in the city. She turned to increase her circle by a block and spotted a space right away. As she quickly backed in, she sent up a huge thank-you to the parking gods. A space, even this far away, required more than luck on a weekday.

  After grabbing the groceries and her handbag, she emerged from the car and started the two-block trek to her apartment building.

  At Mrs. Pike’s door, Kate pressed the buzzer. The TV inside blared as usual, so she didn’t release her finger until the volume eventually lowered.

  “Who’s there?” came the cautious voice that always made her smile.

  “It’s me, Kate Winters.” It didn’t matter how many times she’d been at this same spot at this same time in the past year delivering groceries, her neighbor always asked the same question. “I have your milk and eggs.”

  Mrs. Pike opened the door and peeked through the space. “Oh, my. Aren’t you a dear?” She opened it wider and moved to the side, pushing her walker out of the way.

  Still smiling, Kate stepped past her and carried the heavy bag to the kitchen counter. “There you go.”

  “I hope it wasn’t too much trouble.” The older woman slowly followed her into the room, using the walker for support.

  “None whatsoever.” Kate placed the items in the fridge. “Let me know when you’ll need anything else.”

  “You’re an angel. I can’t figure out what’s wrong with that young man you’ve been dating. You two have had plenty of time to get married. In my day, boys didn’t pussyfoot around when they had a good thing. They weren’t afraid of marriage.”

  “I got you a couple of candy bars,” Kate interjected, having come fully prepared to deflect the forthcoming lecture about not buying a cow when the milk is free. Mrs. Pike was worse than her mother at times. She emptied the bag and presented two Snickers bars.

  Mrs. Pike’s aged eyes lit up with pleasure and her wrinkled face broke out in huge smile. “Thank you.” The older woman didn’t just have one sweet tooth. Every remaining tooth in her mouth craved sugary snacks.

  Kate said her good-byes and quickly let herself out, making a getaway while she could. The candy diversion wouldn’t last long. She walked to her own apartment trying not to think about Mrs. Pike’s comment. Unfortunately, it hit a nerve, thanks to her mom’s phone call. Stuff like that never bothered her before. Chrissie’s engagement announcement, however, had prompted her to wonder the same thing. What was James afraid of? She thought about it constantly for the last few weeks, and the answer had become obvious.

  Commitment.

  Don’t dwell on it, she told herself, as she inserted her key into the lock. Hopefully, the plans she’d set into motion for the trip to Tahoe next weekend would change things. The second her front door clicked shut behind her, she glanced around. Ignoring her tightening stomach, she took a deep breath and focused on the scene before her—one that always lifted her spirits.

  Various shades of blues and creams framed the windows and covered the upholstered furniture. The fabrics she chose blended with expensive antiques—of course she would own nothing less—and created a warm and inviting elegance that always made her feel like a princess, even if James’ lack of attention was starting to make her feel like a toad.

  An oversized off-white sofa flanked one side of the room, two upholstered navy chairs the other. Her wide-screen TV rested atop a long, dark wood sideboard, completing the U-shape. The antique sideboard had at one time graced a mansion in Seacliff, but Kate snapped it up at the estate sale after the owner had died. The grandkids’ lack of appreciation for what they’d practically given away had been her good fortune.

  Her gaze landed at her feet and she grimaced. Whoever created heels had to be a sadistic man. Kate kicked them off and dug her bare toes into the thick rug she’d picked up at a bargain. Covering her apartment’s refinished turn-of-the-century hardwood floors went against her nature as a decorator. But the carpet’s four corners defined the parameters of what she considered her living room, and kept noise at a minimum for the neighbor below her.

  She stepped around the blue silk screen that separated the enormous area into two rooms. An antique four-poster bed and matching armoire took up most of the smaller space she considered her bedroom.

  “Ah.” She dropped onto the plush mattress, rubbing her aching arches and toes.

  Fashion requires a hefty price.

  The thought of putting her feet up and nestling in for the night flitted through her mind, but tonight she didn’t have time for self-indulgence.

  Judith Reid, one of her best friends, was treating her to a belated birthday meal. This was their first opportunity to get together for dinner since before Kate left on her buying trip. Tonight they planned to finalize the details of her proposed getaway. Unfortunately, Paul Morrison, Judith’s boyfriend and James’ younger brother, rounded out the foursome for the weekend. Willingly including him in any of her plans meant she was desperate. But desperate times called for desperate measures, she reminded herself, determining then and there not to let his little digs get to her.

  She sighed, and rubbed her foot a little harder.

  The guy wouldn’t be so bad if he would just quit with the jokes at her expense. Of course, rising to his taunts most likely kept their sparring alive, she decided, remembering the last family get-together at Christmas. Paul’s off-the-wall remark about James’ present seeming a little impersonal after dating so long struck a nerve, as had so many others over the years. At that point, she’d grasped that responding wasn’t the answer. But the knowledge hadn’t mattered one bit because the minute the words were out of his mouth, something inside her subconscious kicked in. Even biting her tongue hadn’t stopped her nasty retort.

  And the worst part? Most of the anger she vented at Paul should have been directed at James for giving his brother the ammunition for his verbal barbs in the first place. Oven mitts and an apron were pretty much at the bottom of anyone’s list of romantic presents
. The gift definitely lacked intimacy, adding to her concerns, which spurred her to plan a weekend ski trip to make things better. It had to; it certainly couldn’t make things worse.

  With the kinks finally worked out of her feet, she padded to the armoire and pulled out jeans and a sweater. On the way to the bathroom to change, her cell phone beeped. Please let it be a message from James. She grabbed the phone, exhaled a relieved sigh, and read the text message while walking.

  ‘Scored tickets to the Warriors game on Tuesday night.’

  Yes! She gave herself a mental high five, excited that he’d come through for her. Basketball was her game. But her excitement died a quick death as she read on. He’d hit a snag on his project and had to cancel their plans for tomorrow night. Their usual Sunday brunch didn’t look promising either.

  She tried not to be too disappointed; in fact, she should have expected it. James, an architect and a perfectionist with his designs, worked long hours, something she didn’t mind early on in their relationship. Heck, she’d put in years of eighty-hour weeks too. But now that her shop was doing well and her workload had leveled off, she realized how little time they actually spent together as a couple. She wanted more than the few dates a month James seemed perfectly happy with. And as far as the future went? They didn’t appear to be on the same page any longer. Even Mrs. Pike noticed it.

  Her recent goal assessment was an eye-opener, highlighting the years that had passed since she’d met James. Eight in all, and they’d been in a monogamous relationship for six of them. To be fair, she owned part of the reasons. Her shop came first and foremost for years, leaving her with little opportunity to think about marriage and a family. Now that Yesterday’s Treasures was generating a decent income, it seemed as if time kept marching on and she wasn’t getting any younger, as her mother kept reminding her.

  “Don’t think about it,” she whispered. “Stick to your resolve.” She’d vowed during her buying trip to change things. They’d either get married, or she was finally ready to throw in the towel in order to be free to find someone else. At this point, she couldn’t ignore that she’d spent most of her adult life playing the waiting game. A trip to the altar was the next logical step and it was well past time for it.