Picnics & Promises: Six Delicious Summer Romances
IMPERFECTLY PROVERBS 31
by Autumn MacArthur
The last thing geeky Samantha Rose planned for was the homemaking blog only her sister was ever supposed to see going viral. After a disastrous picnic, Daniel Novak, the cynical reporter dispatched to interview her, insists he must reveal the truth. But that could ruin everything, including their budding love.
Excerpt from IMPERFECTLY PROVERBS 31:
His knock on
the door was answered almost immediately. Definitely the woman he’d seen in the
store. No makeup, blonde hair in a soft wispy up-do, and a pink flowered apron
over her white T-shirt and slim jeans. Instead of the earlier wary glance, she
smiled welcome, though the smile didn’t light up her eyes.
And there, in
her oven-mitted hand, was the source of the delicious scent. A tray of
chocolate chip cookies. They looked as good as they smelled.
“Ms. Rose?
I’m Daniel Novak.”
She swung the
door wide, revealing an entry hall with braided rugs on the polished wood
floors. “Come in. We have a picnic lunch all prepared. As it’s such a lovely
day, we can eat by the lake. But I wanted to bake some cookies for the girls to
have later. I’ll just set them cooling before we go.”
“Thank you
for agreeing to an interview at such short notice, Ms. Rose.”
“Please call
me Sam.”
Nodding
acknowledgment, though the boyish name didn’t suit her in the least, he
followed her into a spacious old-fashioned kitchen. A huge oak table filled the
center of the room. As she wielded a spatula to lift the cookies onto a metal
rack, he admired her graceful movements and hoped he’d get one of those
cookies, too.
He pulled out
his small voice recorder and flicked it on. “Do you agree to me recording the
interview?”
For a
fleeting moment, apprehension gleamed in her blue eyes. He’d been right to
suspect she wanted to hide something. He filed the observation away.
Then she
nodded. “Sure. That’s standard procedure, right?”
“It makes
sure the final article stays factual, which is in your interest. So, the girls
are your nieces, staying with you for the summer, correct?” Easy questions he
already knew the answer to first, to warm her up.
After that
glimpse of her in the store, he’d done more research, read right through her
website, Perfectly Proverbs 31. All
the pictures were of food, flowers and plants in the garden, or two little
girls, usually wearing matching print dresses.
“Yes.
Five-year-old twins, Emily and Rose. I’m minding them while their mom is
abroad. I started the blog as a record of these months with them, purely for
their mother. I never anticipated it would get as much attention as it has.”
Her voice,
low and sweet, fell softly on his ear. He didn’t get the sense she hid anything
now.
An irrelevant
question tickled his sense of the ridiculous. “Rose Rose?”
Samantha Rose
gurgled as she deposited the baking tray in the sink and pulled off her floral
mitt. “Thankfully, no. Her name is hard enough for her as it is.”
He raised a
questioning eyebrow.
“Rose still
has a slight lisp, so she says her name as Wose. The girls have a different
last name than me. And no, I won’t disclose it, to maintain their privacy.”
She’d
answered a question he had no intention of asking. Memories of the way Dad used
pictures of him as a kid in mailouts and promotions for his so-called charity
still burned in his gut. “Wise. So where are they now?”
Focus on the interview, Novak. Do not reach
out and snatch a warm cookie to comfort those memories. No matter how delicious
they smell, or how much you want one.
“Next door
with my neighbors. As I said, I never expected the site would go viral, and I
don’t intend to expose them to any more publicity than necessary. The picnic is
all ready to go.” She rested a hand on the large lidded basket sitting on the
table. “There’s a perfect spot on the lakeshore.”
“Sounds
fine.”
She struggled
to lift the basket. “Oops, it’s heavier than I thought since it has everything
in it.”
“Let me carry
it.” Tucking the voice recorder in his shirt pocket, he took the basket from
her and needed to brace himself. No wonder she’d struggled. The thing must
weigh thirty pounds. Either her idea of a picnic lunch didn’t involve plastic
plates, or she had enough food in here to invite all of Sunset Point.
Or he
seriously needed to consider more time in the gym.
Samantha Rose
untied her apron and slipped it off, hanging it on a hook behind the door.
“I’ll just grab my purse.” She slung a large tote over one shoulder. “I’m
ready.”
On the porch,
she pulled the front door closed but didn’t lock it.
“No locks?”
He couldn’t hide his surprise.
A charming
chuckle accompanied the smile she flashed him as she pushed the garden gate
open. “I thought the same when I arrived. It seems no one in Sunset Point locks
up. I’m told it would be considered downright unneighborly.”
Carrying the
basket down the hill without pitching forward limited how much breath he had
left to talk. “City girl?”
“Mostly.” She
grinned. “We moved around a lot for Dad’s job, but Mom always managed to create
a home in the new place within days. She’s a gifted homemaker. Since moving
away from home, I’ve continued the family tradition by going where my past jobs
took me, most recently Seattle.”
Reaching
level ground on Main Street made hauling the picnic basket far easier. She
turned right, away from the store.
“Right here.
I’m glad we could get a table.” She grinned and pointed to the only unoccupied
table among the heavy timber picnic settings scattered along the grassy lake
bank. “I’m told that mention in the newspaper has doubled visitors to Sunset
Point, despite how out-of-the-way it is. Would you put that on the bench?”
Relieved, he
hefted the basket and deposited it where she asked, then clasped his hands
together and stretched out his arms and shoulders. Time to get back to the
interview. “You can take all summer off to mind your nieces? Great employer.”
Again, she
flashed him a bright genuine smile as she opened the basket lid and lifted out
a blue-checked tablecloth. “My employer is me. Since I quit my last job and
started working for myself, my office can be wherever there’s an internet
connection. This summer, I’m working evenings, once the twins are in bed.”
Deftly, she
shook the tablecloth open, laid it over the table, and clipped weights shaped
like dragonflies to each corner. “To stop the breeze blowing it away,” she
explained, answering his unspoken question.
“What can I
do to help?”
“Nothing.
It’s all done. I only need to lay it all out.” The three thick glass dishes
with plastic lids, a set of proper cutlery, cloth napkins, and two Mason jars
containing what looked like apple juice explained why the basket weighed so
much. “I’ll leave the pie in the basket for now.”
She peeled
back the lids to reveal the first two dishes contained a mix of salads, nicely
presented on a bed of lettuce, while the third held bread rolls.
“Looks good.”
He meant it.
“The
vegetables are organic, fresh from the backyard. My neighbor, and her
granddaughter who owns the house, had it all planted up before I arrived. You
already know Maddie, of course. She and her husband run the store and live
behind it, as well as doing the bed and breakfast there.” Frowning at the
table, she repositioned a few items. “There, that looks right. I’ll just take a
few photos before we eat.”
“Why not let
me take the pictures, and then you’ll be in them, too?” Unusually, Meg hadn’t
insisted he bring a photographer to the interview, instead suggesting he ask
permission to use images from the blog.
He wanted at
least one of the evasive Ms. Rose.
Samantha
Rose’s cheeks pinked. “No, none of me. I hate having my photo taken. I won’t
bother with photos today. It’s a habit I’ve gotten into. If something looks
nice, I photograph it, in case I can use it in a website. I’m a web designer
and using my own images means I produce unique pages for my clients.”
A plausible
enough reason, but her breathy tone and the slightly hunted look in her blue eyes
suggested she had other reasons to keep herself out of the photos.
His newshound
instinct kicked all the way in. Not that he’d let his suspicions show.
Raising a
hand, he stood back. With a month here, he’d get the photos he wanted some
other time. “Take as long as you need. I can wait to eat. Breakfast this
morning was twice what I’d have at home.”
Her musical
chuckle sounded again. “Maddie enjoys looking after her guests. I loved the
welcome they gave me — two days’ worth of home-cooked meals, to tide me over
till we’d settled in.”
He nodded and
let her get on with her photos. Food was one thing, but after a few days, all
the sweetness and light from his hosts would become cloying.
The shots she
took weren’t just snapshots. Not with the way she carefully framed and adjusted
things. Then she smiled. “There, done! Now we can sit.”
Once they
were both seated, she spread her napkin in her lap then gazed at him
expectantly. What did she want?
“Will you
give thanks, or shall I?” she asked when the silence stretched uncomfortably
long.
Give thanks?
He hadn’t done that for years and had no idea what he’d say to God if he did.
“Uh, how about we each give thanks silently?”
She quirked
her lips to one side and raised an eyebrow. “Okay.”
Instead of
praying, he watched her bow her head. Another Christian. He’d figured that
already from her blog, with its scattering of Bible verses and mentions of God.
If Meg sent him here in the hope he’d regain his lost faith and magically turn
into some happy-clappy seeing the best in everyone, she’d be disappointed.
Years of
exposure to the seedy underbelly of human nature taught him to be cynical.
Not to
mention, his father. People who called themselves Christians could be the worst
hypocrites of all, as if playing the God card gave a get-out-of-jail-free pass.
Even Samantha
Rose, sweet as she seemed, hid a secret she didn’t want discovered. Somehow,
somewhere, she’d lied to the public. His earlier suspicions hardened into
certainty.
He was here
to uncover her lie. And then, let everyone know.
About Autumn MacArthur:
Autumn Macarthur is a USA Today bestselling author of clean Christian
inspirational romances with a strong touch of faith. If you love
happy-ever-afters, sweet romance, and Hallmark movies, chances are you’ll enjoy
her stories!
Originally from Sydney, Australia, she now lives in a small town not far
from London, England, with her husband (aka The Cat Magnet), and way too many
rescue cats for their tiny house! You can visit her at her website
http://faithhopeandheartwarming.com, on Facebook as Autumn Macarthur, and on
Twitter as @autumnmacarthur. She’d love to hear from you!
Thanks so much for sharing! I hope readers will enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it!
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