Three weeks ago, Portia Bishop mailed a letter to the father of her
baby, Saddle Bronc rider Austin Bradshaw.
It’s a letter she should have written a long time ago—like when she first found
out she was pregnant, shortly after she ended things with Austin, dropped out
of college, and went running to her family in Marietta, Montana.
Austin has loved Portia
since he first laid his eyes on her in college. A year ago, he convinced her to
do something impulsive and very romantic. Now, as he opens her letter, Austin
has two reasons to return to Marietta–win back the heart of the woman he still
loves and convince her he’s a good bet for a forever man and father.
Except:
Three weeks had passed since
Portia Bishop mailed the letter she should have sent almost a year earlier.
Three very long weeks.
She
stood at the open door to the Copper Mountain Chocolate Shop and looked up and
down Main Street, Marietta. It was three in the afternoon, and the only
movement she could spy in the small Montana town was the fluttering of the
golden-colored leaves on the aspen trees. No sign of the cowboy she’d glimpsed
a few moments ago.
Had it
been Austin Bradshaw?
It could
have been.
The man
had been tall and lanky. He’d worn his white cowboy hat at the exact same angle
Austin did. The distance had been too far to make out the man’s features, but
she could have sworn dark brown hair curled around the collar of his western-styled
shirt.
But it
might not have been, either.
This
town practically crawled with good-looking cowboys, all dressed similarly in
jeans, boots, western-styled shirts, and hats. But she’d had the impression this
cowboy was watching the chocolate shop—her?—intently.
Portia
slipped back inside the shop, resisting the urge to freshen her lipstick and
release her long hair from the clip holding her ponytail. Even if she truly had
seen Austin, it wasn’t like her appearance would matter. Not when there was
someone much more important on the scene.
She
peered over the counter to where her three-and-a-half-month-old son was
sleeping in the portable cot she kept for him at the shop. His little hand was
fisted and pressed up to his chin. Downy, white hair framed his chubby little
face. Zavy was so darned cute. She had to resist the urge to pick him up for a
cuddle.
But that
would be breaking one of the cardinal rules of mothering—never disturb a
sleeping baby. Portia was lucky Aunt Sage—who owned the chocolate shop and
hand-made most products—was also a mother. Her advice and guidance had been so
helpful the first month when Portia struggled with breastfeeding, interrupted
sleep patterns, and a sometimes-colicky infant.
Portia
wished her own mom—Sage’s sister Mattie—could have left the ranch she shared
with her second husband Nat Diamond in the Flathead Valley to help her with the
new baby. But her mom had only managed a two-day visit when the baby was born.
No doubt
she was still upset with Portia for leaving college, one year shy of her
degree, as was Portia’s twin sister Wren. Brilliant Wren, now working on her
master’s degree at Berkley, thought nothing in the world was as important as a
good education.
Portia
realized her family had a point. But she would never regret her decision to
carry Zavy to term and keep him, even though she was a young mom, staring down
a future of living without a partner on a salesclerk’s salary.
Portia
glanced out the front window again, this time searching for potential
customers. There’d been a brief spike in business the first week of September
when Sage offered a back-to-school promotion, but now sales had settled into a
languorous lull.
She’d
been told the shop would usually be gearing up for the rodeo by now—the influx
of cowboys and spectators was terrific for business—but there’d been a terrible
fire on the fairgrounds in August and the bleachers, pens, and loading docks
had been lost. An official investigation into the suspected arson was being
carried out by the authorities, but even if they found the culprit, it wouldn’t
change anything.
Marietta’s
famous Copper Mountain Rodeo simply had to be cancelled this year. And unless
sufficient funds were found to rebuild the facilities, they might not take
place next year either.
Portia dusted shelves for a while, admiring
the beautiful displays of decadent treats, including her current favorite of
eggnog and rum truffles. Somehow Sage had concocted the perfect blend of white
chocolate, cream, spices, and rum. The creamy texture and rich flavors made
Portia’s taste buds explode, every time.[CS2]
Portia
put away the duster and went to check her son again. Still sleeping like an
angel. She was lucky Zavy took such long afternoon naps. Soon, she’d have to
sort out childcare for when she was working, but every week she could postpone
that decision allowed her to sock a little more into savings.
She was
on the stepstool, rearranging the copper boxes on the top shelf at the front of
the store, when the shop phone let out a chime. She scrambled down to answer
before it could ring again and possibly wake the baby.
“Copper
Mountain Chocolates, Portia speaking.”
“The is
Penny Fulbright. Is Sage there?”
Penny
was Sage’s accountant. She was working on a cash-flow statement to take to the
bank in case their grouchy landlord, Stanley Scranton, agreed to let the
chocolate shop lease the adjoining space that had once been used for a travel
agency. Sage’s business was at a point now where expanding was crucial. Sage
desperately needed more kitchen space, and the shop itself was too tiny to
accommodate all the special events they hosted every month. Once the new lease
was signed, Sage could go to the bank to secure a loan to cover leasehold
improvements, and then construction could begin. Hopefully, they’d be able to
open the deluxe, expanded shop in early November with plenty of time for the
holiday rush.
“Sage
isn’t available right now, but she’ll be in early tomorrow morning. Can you
call back then?”
“I’d
rather not put this off.”
Yikes.
That didn’t sound good.
“Do you
have the number for her cell?”
“Yes,
but if I call her at home, she’ll only be distracted.”
Penny
obviously knew Sage well. With a deputy for a husband, a chatty grade-school
student for a stepdaughter, and an active toddler son, Sage’s house was usually
the definition of organized chaos.
“I
suppose this can wait until tomorrow,” Penny conceded.
“I’m
glad to help, if I can.”
“Afraid
that’s not possible. Thanks, though.”
Portia
hung up feeling vaguely worried. Slow September aside, she’d had the impression
cash flow and revenue were on an upswing at her aunt’s shop. She’d hoped the
changes she’d implemented since her arrival last fall—especially the monthly PR
events—would increase profits. Judging from Penny’s tone, that wish might have
been optimistic.
Zavy let
out a peeved cry, and Portia pushed aside financial concerns as she hurried to
pick him up.
“You
awake already, little guy?”
He
peered up at her with his enormous blue eyes, a tiny tear glistening in the
corner of one of them.
“Come to
Mommy.”
It was
so gratifying to see a smile suddenly brighten his face. She put a bottle of
the milk she expressed every night into a pan of hot water to heat, then
carried Zavy to the washroom to change his diaper.
Of
course, Murphy’s Law dictated that just as it was time to feed him, the first
customer in an hour had to show up. Portia’s stress turned to pleasure when she
saw it was one of her favorite regulars, Josie Morgan, a fragile senior who
lived at Kindred Spirits and was addicted to Sage’s hot chocolate.
“Josie!
I was wondering why I hadn’t seen you yet today.”
“I had
an unexpected visit from my grandson Dylan. He’s extremely happy these
days—don’t you think his weather reports have been getting more accurate?”
“For
sure.” Portia was certain a little white lie was called for here. “Would you
mind holding Zavy while I get your hot chocolate?”
“Are you
kidding?” Josie settled in one of the chairs and then held out her arms. “I’m
not sure which I’m more addicted to now. The hot chocolate or my baby cuddles.”
“I was
just starting to feed him.”
“Hand me
the bottle, too, then.”
Portia
totally trusted Josie, but the elderly woman was so frail she made sure her son
was safely ensconced in Josie’s arms, and feeding happily, before she turned to
the copper pot where the hot chocolate was made. As she heated a fresh batch,
aromas of rich chocolate with subtle notes of vanilla and cinnamon made her
taste buds water. In the background, she could hear Josie cooing to her son.
“You are
the sweetest thing, aren’t you? Absolutely perfect. Rather strange name your
mother gave you, but there are so many weird names these days it shouldn’t make
for problems on the playground.”
Portia
rolled her eyes. Josie wasn’t one to withhold her opinions. But [CS3] she
wasn’t the first who had raised her eyebrows about the name Xavier.
Portia
felt a lump of sadness and worry well up in her throat as she thought of the
one person who would understand why
she’d chosen that name. Automatically, her gaze went to the window.
Had she
seen Austin Bradshaw?
Or only
wished she had?
* * *
As he settled in with his
late lunch—a beef and cheddar wrap and a green smoothie—Austin Bradshaw felt as
if he were visiting an eccentric old aunt. The Java Café was filled was
mismatched chairs and sofas, all upholstered in a variety of colored fabrics.
He had to admit the chairs were comfortable, though.
Before
taking his first bite, he glanced out the window at the chocolate shop across
the way. He couldn’t see beyond the display of artfully arranged copper boxes
and chocolate temptations. Probably a good thing. If he could actually see
Portia, there was no way he’d have the appetite to eat his lunch. Just knowing
she was a stone’s throw away made his gut tighten the way it did in the seconds
before the starting horn in a rodeo competition.
But he’d
been on the road since five that morning, subsisting on roadside coffee and
packets of peanuts. He needed real food.
Deliberately,
he shifted his chair until he was facing the interior of the restaurant. Only
then could he manage a bite of his wrap. The beef and cheddar blended perfectly
with the tangy horseradish sauce and crunchy lettuce. His stomach rumbled
thanks, and Austin took a second bite.
At the
table next to him, a pretty redhead who looked around twenty gave him a shy
smile. He pretended he hadn’t noticed. Attention from strange women still made
him uncomfortable even after five summers on the rodeo circuit. Partly for this
reason, and partly for reasons of his own, he avoided the bars and saloons his
buddies flocked to after competitions.
Austin
preferred to hang out at coffee shops, usually with his laptop and a good book.
He had
neither with him right now. He’d sprung out of his truck without any plan
whatsoever, just a compelling need to see Portia.
It was
only when he’d glimpsed her through the window of the chocolate shop—her
honey-colored hair in a ponytail showing off her pretty, heart-shaped face—that
he’d panicked.
After
all this time, he couldn’t show up grimy from a ten-hour drive, practically
insane from months—hell, an entire year—of not seeing or hearing from her.
From the
front pocket of his shirt, Austin pulled out the letter. He’d read it so often
the paper was starting to tear at the creases. He studied it again now,
searching for answers that simply weren’t there.
It’s time we talked.
Damn
right it was time they talked. He’d tried reaching out to her in every way he
could think of, but she’d closed her Facebook and Instagram accounts shortly
after she’d dropped out of college, leaving him hurt, confused, and lonely in
Seattle. He still couldn’t believe she’d forfeited her degree just one year shy
of graduation.
Did she
hate him that much?
If so,
why? More than anything, Austin wished he knew what he’d done wrong. He’d
thought they were perfectly happy when he’d left for his last rodeo competition
before starting the fall semester at the University of Washington. But when
he’d returned—with a thousand bucks of prize money in his wallet—Portia had
been gone. She’d left only the briefest of farewell notes, with a request he
give her some time to think things over.
Okay,
maybe he’d been the perfectly happy one.
And
there had been a few signs—especially since their summer weekend in Reno—that
she was feeling on edge. But he had never guessed she was about to leave him.
And it
had just about killed him. For Portia, he’d do almost anything. If she would
just tell him the problem, he knew he could fix it.
But
during the past year, she’d closed all potential avenues of communication,
rejecting his attempted phone calls, not answering his texts. He’d tried
contacting her mother and her sister. Via Wren, he’d discovered she moved to
Montana to work at her aunt’s chocolate shop.
He’d
lost no time in traveling to Marietta, but she’d deliberated avoided him again,
at which point he’d asked a friend to look in on her. But Jamie had no luck
either. On Valentine’s Day, Austin had sent red roses, hoping to finally get a
reply. But there’d been nothing.
Until
this. He read the letter again, even though he knew it held no answers for him.
Those could only come from the woman in the building across the street. He
allowed himself to look again. A tiny elderly lady exited the shop, a to-go cup
in her hand. Behind the lady he caught a brief glance of Portia holding
something close as she walked past the open door. Then nothing.
Austin
took the last bite of his wrap, then downed his smoothie. He hadn’t booked a
place to stay, but in happier times, Portia had told him about a bed and
breakfast in town. The Bramble House was owned by some old relative of hers and
managed by a second cousin. He’d try there first.
Once he
was settled, showered, and changed into clean clothes, he’d come back to find
Portia.
He
couldn’t agree more. It was time they talked.
Oh, Austin, you're in for a very sweet surprise! Congrats, C.J., you wrapped up the series masterfully.
ReplyDeleteThanks Debra! It was lots of fun revisiting all the couples and giving our readers some closure (as well as Austin and Portia's love story!)
ReplyDelete