The Marriage Contract. Anna Adams

She reached into her purse and pulled out a notepad. “I can write down names and numbers right now.”

      As she wrote, he said, “I’ll take them, but first I need to know how long you think you’ll be staying in town.” He reached for a cup from the next table and poured himself coffee. “Not that I should ask, but I’ve had a hard time keeping people for longer than a season.”

      She hesitated for a long moment. He was asking for a commitment. And it scared her, but this was a commitment she suspected she’d been running to, not one she would run from.

      “I’ve come home,” she finally said. Paul Sayers didn’t know her, didn’t know her family. She didn’t have to prove she belonged in Fairlove to him. “I lived here once.”

      “Good. Wait a minute. Atherton? Your family owned that old house in the oak grove at the bottom of the Dylan estate?”

      She nodded.

      “I hate seeing folks let a fine old place like that go. It’s a beauty, or it could be if someone with a little elbow grease took it over. Do you plan to buy it back?”

      She looked away, not wanting to show him how much the loss of her home hurt. “I’d need more than one job to manage that.”

      Paul nodded. “I sure can’t pay you that kind of money, but the company’s young. If your references pan out and you’re a strong worker and you actually stay, you’d be helping me stake my business in this town. If the business grows, my employees grow with it.”

      “I don’t have a degree.”

      At his crooked smile, Clair wished she hadn’t felt quite so compelled to be honest. Her embarrassment amused him.

      “Mine’s over twenty years old,” he said. “Thanks for telling me, but I’m happy to teach anyone who stays. I figure I’m grooming people who’ll take ownership in my business.” He picked up his coffee cup and sipped. “Do you think Selina would bring some breakfast for me?”

      “Probably.” His matter-of-fact attitude put Clair at ease. She freshened his coffee cup from the carafe. “How often does she arrange job interviews for her guests?”

      “Not very.” Paul took a sip before he said, “Between the two of them, I guess the Franklins know most of what goes on in this town. If you work out, I may consider paying her a recruiting fee. Why don’t you tell me what kinds of jobs you’ve done for those other companies?”

      “I have some sketches.”

      Clair drew her pad out of her backpack, and they talked work. Mrs. Franklin brought breakfast for Paul without being asked. Finally he pushed back from the table and stood.

      “Why don’t you drop your résumé by my office in the morning and meet my two associates. We’ll assume you’ll start on Wednesday, and I’ll call you if I have any questions about your references.”

      “Thank you.” As she stood to shake his hand, she noticed the familiar scent of mulch. “I think I saw your office on the square.”

      “I took over the Tastee Cone shop.” He dragged his baseball cap over his hair and smiled crookedly. “I hear my neighbors miss the ice cream.”

      Clair wondered. She’d been too young to understand nuances, such as socially acceptable businesses for the square, when she’d left. What if she had come back to a place she’d made up to comfort herself? It looked the same, but so far the people hadn’t turned out the same as she’d remembered them.

      She refused to think that way. She’d decided to stay. Now she had to find out if she’d really come home.

      “Mrs. Franklin thinks highly of your work, and I’m grateful you had the time to come by here.”

      Paul was buttoning his jacket as Selina Franklin came through the swing door from the kitchen. “You’ll probably work with me the first few days—kind of a probation period. I want to see what skills you bring, and then I’ll pair you with other staff who complement what you know. This being winter, you know we’re mostly cleaning, preparing for the spring.” He lifted his hand to Mrs. Franklin. “What do I owe you?”

      “Not a thing. I’m glad you had a free hour. Did you and Clair finish your business?”

      “To our mutual benefit, I hope. Thanks for everything, Selina. I’ll see you Wednesday, Clair.”

      He left, and Clair turned awkwardly to her hostess. “I’d like to hug you, Mrs. Franklin, but I remember my mother telling me to keep my muddy hands off your dress.”

      “You always did like growing things, didn’t you?” She dropped her arm across Clair’s shoulders and squeezed. “What do you say you call me Selina, and I’ll tell you what I propose for your living arrangements.”

      “What do you mean?”

      “Sit down. I’ll join you in a cup of coffee. We’re not too busy right now.”

      “Mrs. Franklin, I can’t let you do anything more for me.”

      “Selina. And I want you to do a few things for me. When we finish our talk, I’ll show you my back garden. It’s a jungle.”

      Clair stared in dismay at the third cup of caffeine Selina had poured for her. “That lovely garden?” she said. “I used to think it was a playground.”

      “It looked like one. The judge had more time to work with it back then, but his taste ran to the gauche.” Selina crossed her legs. “And I’m being generous. Since he took office, I’ve hauled away the candy-striped poles. I took down the birds and the wires he used to make them look like they were flying. I even got rid of that horrible birdbath sculpture his mother insisted we keep in front of her window. You remember the Furies in stone? They were most indecent—looked like snake women writhing all over each other, but then, you know the judge had to get his taste from somewhere.”

      “Are you asking me to work on your garden?” Excited, Clair forgot her caffeine buzz and sipped the coffee. “I’d love to, but like Paul said, I can’t do much more than clean and plant bulbs for the spring.”

      “Cleaning.” Selina sighed in overstated relief. “Just what I need back there. You do what you can after your work with Paul, and I’ll give you a room until you find a place to live.”

      “I’m not going to pretend I don’t want to.” A garden she’d loved as a child proved irresistible. “You have a deal.”

      “Great. Take today to rest. You can start tomorrow.”

      “Thanks.” She set her napkin on the table and broached an uncomfortable subject. “Can I ask you one more favor, Selina?”

      “Ask away. I’ll do what I can.”

      “I appreciate your help, but I remember how this town works. Please don’t make me some sort of a…community project. I’d like to start fresh.”

      “Don’t worry. I haven’t told anyone else I had any part in bringing you back here. As far as they’ll know, you decided to come home.”

      “They? I don’t think I want to know who else was in on your plan all these years.”

      Selina’s mouth quivered, but she wound her arms around Clair. “You’re going to be all right now.”

      Clair hugged her back. Maybe coming home really was the right decision.

      Clair unpacked the rest of the things from her car and then checked Selina’s gardening shed for tools. She made a list of things she’d need and slipped it into the pocket of her jeans to take to Bigelow’s General Store.

      As she shopped the garden section at Bigelow’s, she found herself circling flats of pansies. Her mom’s crocuses had heralded the end of winter every spring. In fall, she’d planted pansies in her favorite flower bed by the front door.

      Clair wanted to