Tucker slid his box onto a shelf and then moved closer to the storeroom door as Maisy added, “I think she needs to get angry. That’s the next step in the mourning process, isn’t it? Anger?”
“Depends on which model you use,” Caroline replied. “But yes, anger is part of the process.”
“Hmm.” Following a few moments of thoughtful silence, Maisy continued, “Remember at the soft opening weekend for the Fallen Angel Inn last summer when Celeste and the Eternity Springs’ wives talked about their interventions? It’s something they do when someone in their circle has a romantic crisis and they believe she needs some straight talk?”
“I do.”
“Well, I don’t know that Gillian’s at the point of needing the big guns of an Eternity Springs level intervention, but I think she could use a little girlfriend support. Barbara told me yesterday that Gillian had promised to come into work today. If she didn’t show, Barbara was prepared to go to her place and pile on the guilt.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
“She’ll need to eat something other than Cheetos and ice cream or she’ll be the one who is sick. We should drag her over here for a bowl of chili. We don’t need to mention Jeremy or the wedding or grill her about how she’s feeling. Just give her a distraction.”
“That’s a great idea,” Caroline agreed. “Tucker’s chili is fabulous, and a bowl of Texas comfort food on a cold winter’s day would be good medicine for Gillian. However, I doubt she’ll agree to come over here. I don’t think she’d be comfortable around Tucker or any guy right now.”
“True.”
At that point, having located Maisy’s special order of a knife for her father’s upcoming birthday, he snagged the package and sauntered into the kitchen. “I’ve been eavesdropping. Tell her I’m not here and I left you in charge, Caroline. Since you are family now and all. I’ll make myself scarce.”
“You sure?” Caroline asked. “You don’t mind?”
“Not at all. What are neighbors for if not to offer the comfort of a good bowl of chili?”
“You’re a good man, Tucker McBride.” Maisy kissed him on the cheek.
He handed over her order and completed the sale. A few minutes later, having donned his coat and grabbed a go pack, he took up a sentry position behind the cigar store Indian in front of the antiques store across the street and watched Caroline and Maisy march into battle in Bliss.
Almost fifteen minutes passed before they emerged from the salon with Gillian in tow. Seeing her, Tucker did a double take. He almost didn’t recognize her.
Wanting a closer look, he fished his field glasses from his pack and focused on her face. Gillian was a ghost of her former self. Her complexion was wan, her long brown hair had lost its bounce and sheen, and the spark of life in her eyes had been extinguished.
If Jones were to cross his path right now, Tucker would whip his ass.
He watched the trio disappear into his shop. For a long few minutes, Tucker stared at the GET GRUBBY flag fluttering in the bitter breeze and brooded.
He tried to be honest with himself as a rule. However, until now, he had avoided self-analysis of his reaction upon hearing the news about Gillian’s broken engagement.
He’d felt a rush of elation, but on its heels came a wave of reality. It was one thing to get all yearny when the woman was out of reach, but something else entirely when she was no longer off-limits.
Was he ready for this? Did he really want to make a play for Gillian Thacker?
It’s true that she was as hot as the Rio Grande Valley in August, but he’d outgrown the looks-matter-more-than-character stage before he’d finished college. Yes, she checked his boxes, but that was definitely a preliminary survey. He didn’t know Gillian well enough yet to judge her character.
Don’t you?
He pondered the question for a bit. Actually, he did know quite a lot about her. He knew that she’d returned to her hometown after college and built a business with her mother. She had a good friend she’d known since childhood, Maisy, and one who she’d welcomed into her life fairly recently in Caroline. She’d dreamed big, and when thwarted, refused to abandon her dreams. She taught Sunday school at her church and volunteered her time reading to the elderly at a local nursing home. She was partial to bright nail polish and dangling earrings, and she wore heels when other women wore flats. She’d been wearing a red bra the day he rescued her from the road. What did those things say about her character?
Gillian was kind, generous, loyal, and loving. She was faithful to her promises and persistent in her goals. She was confident and proud, often practical, but also a bit daring and adventurous.
She was the kind of woman he wanted to be with. The kind of woman he would fall hard for. She was the kind of woman he wouldn’t allow himself to reach for when he lived a military life.
Well, that was then, this was now. He was a civilian. And Gillian was single.
Tucker’s gaze drifted away from the school’s front door and across the courtyard that separated his shop from hers, lingering on the pots of purple pansies and rustic bent-willow benches and chairs that were arranged around a garden fountain and birdbath at its center. Finally, he fastened his stare on Bliss’s front door.
Tucker knew what he wanted. He wanted the chance to change Gillian’s relationship status. He wanted Gillian for his own.
He would need to give her time for her broken heart to heal, of course. Gillian wasn’t the sort of woman to jump from one relationship directly into another. He was in no rush. He could bide his time and when the moment was right, make his move.
But in the meantime, he hated to see her so blue. He wished he could do something to help her. Maisy thought she needed to get angry. Maybe so. She definitely needed something to take her mind off her troubles, something to get excited about. But what?
He drummed his fingers against the wooden figure’s shoulder and thought about it. Gillian’s friends were probably right that nothing was going to get her mind completely off her canceled wedding until after the dreaded day came and went. He could understand that. It didn’t help matters that her career revolved around brides and weddings. He wondered how the breakup affected her plans to expand Bliss to an event planning business? He’d been certain that she would overcome the challenge of losing her chosen location, but would the loss of her partner be one blow too many?
Tucker recalled the spitfire she’d been the day she’d seen his flags. Such fire and anger and passion. That’s what he wanted to see in her again. She needed her fire back.
His gaze shifted to the fanciful wedding gown display in the window at Bliss. He recalled her reaction to his slogan flag. She’d been pretty fiery then. Adamant that GET GRUBBY didn’t fit in the neighborhood.
His mouth lifted in a slow, wicked smile. Gillian needed her fire back. Luckily, fire starting was an elemental life skill, and he was an expert at it. Tucker knew just what tinder this situation required.
After checking traffic, he crossed Main Street and ambled toward Bliss’s front door.
Chapter Nine
A week before what was to have been her wedding day, Gillian couldn’t drag herself from bed. Her alarm had been buzzing for the past ten minutes, but she’d pulled her pillow over her head and ignored it. Five minutes ago, her phone had started to ring at one-minute intervals. She decided she needed to switch her mother’s ring tone from Abba’s “Mama Mia” to something more soothing. Maybe a lullaby. Or, better yet, the Miss Gulch/Wicked Witch of the West leitmotif from the Wizard of Oz.