Until She Met Daniel

PROLOGUE

MANDY WAS PRACTICALLY giddy as she looked at the clock on the wall, thrilled that it was her last day at Saggitt Tech.

It wasn’t the worst temp position she’d ever held, but doing inventory control for the company’s move from Tucson to Phoenix couldn’t compete with her last job—driving a tour bus around Pennsylvania’s Amish country.

She grinned.

Now that had been a great five months. People on vacation were fun—people whose jobs were moving to another city...not so much.

An email notification popped up on her computer screen.

Please come see me. Bill.

She headed for Bill Rollins’s new office. He was one of the company’s up-and-coming executives and had worked closely with Mandy and the rest of the relocation team.

Hey, Bill, she said breezily. What’s up?

He frowned. I just got your farewell email to everybody, saying you were leaving at noon today.

"Well, yeah. Saggitt has finished its move and the final inventory report is done, so I’m out of here. My car is all packed and I’ve done my exit interview with personnel."

I thought you were staying.

Mandy blinked. Bill, this was a temporary job.

He tapped his pen on the desk. But we discussed that administrative position over a month ago, when we were still in Tucson. Didn’t you apply?

She shook her head. You mentioned the opening, but it wasn’t for me.

I don’t understand. It’s a perfect match with your skills and education. And we get along so well...I hoped if you were in a different division, then we could, uh, socialize. Outside the office.

Damn.

Bill was a nice guy, totally gorgeous. And dull as paste. She honestly didn’t think she’d done a single thing to make him believe she was interested in more than a casual friendship. Still, she felt awful about his hurt expression. It might not be her fault he’d gotten the wrong idea, but it felt like her fault.

Um, that’s really nice, Bill, she said and shuffled her feet, but I only took the job with Saggitt because it was temporary. I get restless when I’m anyplace for very long.

He stared. We’ve been in Phoenix for only three weeks.

It’s just the way I am. She smiled weakly. To be honest, my family doesn’t understand me, either.

You’ve never mentioned your family.

We’re not that close. Her relationship with her parents was lousy at best, and she didn’t get along any better with her twin brothers.

Do you have a job somewhere else? Bill asked.

Nope. I’m just going to drive toward the Pacific Ocean and see what comes up. It’s wonderful what happens when you aren’t tied to a schedule.

Bill rearranged the pencils in his pen holder. Now she felt even worse—it was one of his nervous habits. Why didn’t you send your email to everyone a few days earlier?

To avoid scenes like this, she thought, wishing she’d sent her farewell message at 11:59 a.m., and then raced for the door. Only that would have seemed rude.

I...um, heard there’s a tradition at Saggitt of doing a little party when someone leaves, and I wanted to save everybody the trouble.

Sneaky, Patti Kessler sang out from the doorway. But I’m too stubborn for that to work. I got your email and headed to the store for party food. Come on, Mandy, Bill, let’s go to the lunchroom. Everybody is waiting for us.

It was a welcome interruption and Mandy eagerly followed. A lot of women would be thrilled to date Bill Rollins. She just didn’t happen to be one of them. As for staying in Phoenix, it was a nice city, but she was looking forward to cooler weather and tall evergreens. Some of the stories she’d heard about coastal redwood trees sounded fantastical, and she could hardly wait to see if they were true.

CHAPTER ONE

MANDY PEEKED THROUGH the door of City Hall’s parlor. Everything seemed in order, so she continued down the hallway to her office.

Mandy Colson

Senior Center Director

As always, the printed words on her office door made her smile. Who could have guessed she’d be hired to direct a program for seniors? Definitely not her. But she enjoyed it, though there wasn’t anything unique or unusual about the work. The program was probably the same in almost every town in the country. They provided a hot lunch on weekdays, held exercise groups, sponsored special trips and educational programs—all sorts of things. It was Mandy’s job to organize and oversee the programs, coordinate menus and purchasing, and do anything else that was needed. Sometimes she was like a juggler, keeping dozens of balls in the air, but that was part of the fun.

Today a group of women had gathered in the parlor for a sewing project. From what she’d overheard earlier, Dorothy Tanner and Margaret Hanson were already sparring—people in Willow’s Eve said they’d been rivals since the day Dorothy had been born, dislodging Margaret’s position as an indulged only child. Mandy suspected that deep down the sisters cared about each other, though a person might have to dig extremely deep to reveal it.

A soft knock sounded at the door frame and Mandy glanced up to see her next-door neighbor, Jane Cutman.

Hi, Jane. Mandy smiled.

Good morning, dear. The coffee is running low and everyone wants you to make the fresh pot. Somebody else could do it, but they like yours best.

Sure thing. Mandy jumped up and followed Jane into the parlor. The parlor was different from the senior centers she’d seen in the past, not that she’d seen that many of them. But mostly those spaces had been a little sterile. Here, the parlor was a pleasant room with comfy chairs and couches, a few small tables for puzzles or games, and a larger table for bigger projects or groups. It was an ideal social gathering place, which was probably the primary reason for a senior center.

She smiled at the women who were busily sewing and headed to the coffeemaker. The hot subject that morning was the new city manager, expected to arrive the following day.

Except for Mandy, said Dorothy, it’s been ages since we had anybody new living in Willow’s Eve.

We’ve had babies, Margaret interjected.

Well, yes, naturally babies, Dorothy returned. I’m talking about new people who can converse with us on an intelligent basis without teething and learning to walk first. Tourists don’t count. They just spend money, fly kites and eat seafood.

Since her back was turned to them, Mandy let herself grin. Margaret loved trying to get the last word in, but her sister wasn’t any wimp.

And we’ve had some folks move here from Vicksville in the past year, Margaret added.

They haven’t joined into the community, Dorothy snapped back. Margaret must have been doing the one-upmanship thing all morning and Dorothy had lost her patience. They still drive to Vicksville for church and rarely attend our community events. The city manager will be part of the town.

Mandy had misgivings about the new city manager. Things could change when he arrived. She liked Willow’s Eve the way it was. But at least she’d clarified that he wouldn’t be her supervisor. The town’s City Hall provided the space for the program—a large portion of the lower floor. But the program was independent since its funding came through a trust fund.

You aren’t still worried about him interfering with us, are you, luv? Lou Ella Parsons asked.

No, Mandy said, you’ve all cleared that up for me.

Before she’d learned about the setup, Mandy had wondered what would happen. The center had employed her after the old city manager left, and she hadn’t known if a new manager would agree with their hiring choice. When she’d finally mentioned it, the seniors assured her they were the ones who made those decisions. It had been good news. If and when she left Willow’s Eve, it would be nicer to go because she’d decided on it, not because someone else told her to leave.

Dumping the old coffee grounds, Mandy put fresh ones into the maker and started it. The coffee donation can was half full, so she emptied it into an envelope to stick in the treasurer’s mailbox.

All done, she announced. It will take about five minutes to brew.

Thank you, dear, Jane told her.

Oh, yes, Bernice Vicks added. She was a sweet woman who often tried to soften things and keep the peace if arguments arose. I don’t know what you do differently, but your coffee is especially good, though it isn’t fair to drag you away from your desk to make it for us.

Mandy’s smile blew into full sail. No worries, she told them. She tucked back a lock of her long pale blond hair, which refused to stay put—she could never hope for the cool, dignified Grace Kelly look her father admired so much in her mother. I’ll see you all later.

The women met on Mondays and Wednesdays to make items for their annual bazaar. From what Mandy understood, it was a big event, drawing customers from several local communities, and even a few from the San Francisco Bay area. Of course, it was mostly because the bazaar also offered a Sally’s Attic, featuring collectibles, antiques and the work of local artists.

Mandy wished now she’d offered to help promote the bazaar through social media such as Twitter or Facebook, but when she’d first heard about the event, she hadn’t been sure she’d be staying long enough at her job to make it worthwhile. Of course, now that she’d gotten some of the seniors more computer savvy, she could train them to take over if she decided it was time to move on to her next adventure.

Back in her office, Mandy continued working on the monthly newsletter. She really liked this section of the California coast, and the people were great. She had been expecting to look for a job in Vicksville because the town was bigger, but had stopped at the local variety store in Willow’s Eve. That’s when she’d spotted a help-wanted sign on the bulletin board, and on a whim, had walked down to City Hall and applied for the Senior Center director job.

Mandy hadn’t expected them to hire her, or to take the job if it was offered, partly because Willow’s Eve was a small enough town that housing might be hard to find. To her surprise, the hastily gathered hiring committee had talked to her for a while, made phone calls to check her references, then hired her on the spot. Housing hadn’t proved a problem since they’d offered her the use of a small house that belonged to the town.

Overwhelmed by their enthusiasm, Mandy had accepted the job. She enjoyed doing new things, and living in a town the size of Willow’s Eve would be a completely different experience. Later on, she had learned that they’d hired several local people who hadn’t worked out.

However, Mandy wasn’t planning to stay forever and she’d told them up front she was a wanderer.

The new city manager probably wouldn’t be there for long, either—he’d signed only a one-year contract. But the job paid well and came with a free house. The town council had found someone from Southern California with terrific credentials—even better than expected. The community had a decent budget for a small town because of the local paper mill and the income from Fannie Snow’s trust.

Fannie Snow was the town’s biggest benefactress, and Mandy was intrigued by the stories about her. It was a little murky where she’d gotten her wealth—whispers abounded, despite her decades of respectability—but she’d done a bunch for Willow’s Eve, both before and after her death.

The plaques on the shiny modern fire trucks at the station read Lovingly donated by Fannie Snow... the library was fabulous, all the churches had been endowed, and those were just a few of her gifts.

Mandy had asked, but no one seemed to know where Fannie had gotten her wealth. She couldn’t have made it bootlegging during prohibition; she hadn’t been that old. The second-oldest profession? Maybe, but it seemed a stretch considering the amount of money involved.

The alarm on Mandy’s watch beeped, and she headed for the Senior Center’s kitchen, putting her questions about Fannie’s source of income aside.

Do you cook? the chair of the hiring committee had asked rather anxiously toward the end of her interview. We need a program administrator who can prepare the senior lunch part of the time. Our last one, well...he nearly burned the place down, and he was just heating frozen mac and cheese. Have you ever fixed meals for a large number of people?

I can cook for groups, no problem, Mandy had assured.

She’d worked in several cooking jobs over the years and had also helped her mother with faculty dinners, so she was comfortable preparing food in volume. That was one of the reasons the director’s job suited her—there was so much variety. Then she’d added even more variety by volunteering in different projects for the community.

Have a Danish, Lou Ella Parsons urged as Mandy returned to the parlor two hours later. The lasagna was in the oven and everything else was ready. Volunteers would come to serve at noon, and then take meals to seniors who were sick or otherwise homebound—the town’s own version of a meals-on-wheels program.

You guys are trying to make me fat, Mandy complained. Nevertheless, she took a pastry and poured herself a cup of coffee, though she preferred the brew she made in her own office. She’d quickly figured out that many of the seniors simply wanted company and a little attention.

You need something solid on your bones, Dorothy scolded. The way you run around this building doing everything in sight, you burn up more calories than you eat.

She painted the restrooms last week, Jane said.

That was supposed to be a secret. Mandy bit into the Danish and chased it down with coffee. I didn’t want to get blamed for the paint I dripped on the floor.

Dorothy leaned forward. We could have hired someone.

You did, Mandy reminded her. Three months ago and it still wasn’t done. I kept bugging them, but the contractor always seemed to have another job that was more urgent.

You’re amazing, Mandy. I can’t understand why you aren’t married.

I’ve already done the marriage route, and it isn’t for me. Mandy shuddered inside. It wasn’t because her divorce had been ugly, or because the year she’d spent with Vince had been so awful; but he’d expected her to change. Her entire childhood had been about people pushing her to be something she wasn’t, and after a year with a husband doing the same thing, she’d rebelled.

Nonsense, Dorothy scolded. Just because it didn’t work the first time doesn’t mean you should give up on it.

Right, Jane agreed. Say, is the new city manager single?

I’m sure there’s something against this kind of thing in the bylaws. It’s a form of harassment, Mandy complained, intending to keep the conversation lighthearted—she certainly didn’t want it taken seriously.

At the other end of the table, Dorothy looked toward the door and her mouth dropped open, almost with an expression of alarm. Uh, ladies...

You could do worse, Lou Ella said, not seeming to hear. I’ve seen a picture of Daniel Whittier. He’s quite good-looking.

"Oh, my, yes." Jane pretended to fan herself.

A male voice suddenly broke through the chatter. Excuse me.

Mandy looked up and swallowed. An outrageously handsome man gazed at her. Dark wavy hair, blue eyes so intense they practically drilled into you...wow. She didn’t see guys like this every day, or every year for that matter, and she noted a couple of the ladies began straightening up, poking at their hair and smoothing their clothing. This was a guy who awakened feminine instincts in both young and old. It was pricking at her as well, but she resisted.

Can I help you? Mandy asked.

I’m Daniel Whittier. I was told the director for the Senior Center has the keys to my house. Can you point me in the right direction? I went to the director’s office, but no one was there.

That’s because I was in the kitchen, Mandy said.

Have a cuppa tea and a pastry, luv, Lou Ella urged. She’d come from England as a young bride, and her British accent became stronger when she was flustered. We’ve plenty, and you can relax after your trip.

That’s kind of you, he said, politely inclining his head. But I should get my car unloaded. And I need to see my office to drop off a box of professional files.

Mandy set her cup on the table and jumped out of her chair. Uh, sure, but about your office, I—

"You’re the director?"

Last time I checked. I’m Mandy Colson. I’ve been here only a few months myself.

Then thank you.

What a way to get introduced to the new city manager, with the group gossiping about him. Mr. Whittier must have heard them, at least that last part about him being so good-looking. Dorothy’s reaction had proved that much.

Mandy ran a hand through her hair. Not that she had contributed anything inappropriate to the conversation; she was scatterbrained, but not that scatterbrained. It was her sense of humor that landed her in trouble more than her impulsiveness. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Being impulsive got her into messes, too.

I’ll get them right now, Mandy said, anxious to get away from the gazes of the women. She didn’t want them to realize she found Daniel Whittier attractive. It was strange. He wasn’t that much better looking than Bill Rollins in Phoenix, but Bill had never made her pulse skip.

Daniel followed after a brief hesitation. In the small rotunda at the center of City Hall, Mandy stopped and gestured. Two hallways branched off it, with double doors at the end of each. She pointed to a marble staircase.

Isn’t that the most amazing banister? Mandy said. Makes you want to be five years old and slide down it a few dozen times.

Daniel was staring at her with an unreadable expression that made her even more uncomfortable.

Oh? was all he said.

Yeah. I confess I even tried it one evening.

His face closed up even more. Mandy wished she hadn’t said anything, but when she was uncomfortable, it was hard not to say whatever came into her head.

The section behind us is dedicated to the Senior Center, Mandy explained, trying to return to rationality. Daniel Whittier had been hired after interviewing on Skype, so he hadn’t seen City Hall. You already know about my office. Yours is farther down the north hallway, past mine. Most of the other administrative offices are upstairs.

He glanced around—probably orienting himself—with the same inscrutable expression on his face. I suppose I expected the city manager’s place of business to be more toward the front, or adjacent to the other administrative personnel.

Don’t worry. Your office is nice, although not right at the mo—

I’m sure it’s fine.

She mentally groaned as they walked through the door that already bore his name, neatly painted on the frosted glass. A group had been assembling a cookbook in there, and the job was only half done—pages were spread over every free surface. Since the city manager’s office was the only unused space in the building, the mayor had suggested using it as a work area.

Sorry about the clutter, she said. "That’s what I was trying to tell you about. The scholarship board decided to raise money by selling a cookbook, and they would have finished yesterday, but they had to stop because a guy ran into a cow and then skidded into the power lines. The cow is okay, they think, but we lost electricity until it was too late to finish collating. It was one of those foggy days they sometimes get here, so it was awful gloomy in here without lights. They’ll have it out of your way this afternoon. They wouldn’t have used this room if they’d known...I mean, we didn’t think you were arriving until tomorrow. And there’s other cleanup that’s planned."

He stared as if he thought she was nuts, but she’d simply repeated what the volunteer firemen had told her. Not that it had been necessary to provide all the details. What was the matter with her, anyway? Was her tongue wagging out of control because he was the best-looking thing on two legs she’d met in years? She ought to have more sense. Or maybe the problem was his stiff, buttoned-down style—it reminded Mandy of her parents.

I talked with the mayor’s administrative assistant and told her I was coming today and would start work in the morning.

Mandy grimaced. Yikes, we just heard you’d be here tomorrow. The welcome committee assumed that was when you were getting into town, and would start work the next day.

He rubbed his temples as if he had a headache, and his voice held a tone of determined patience when he replied, That’s all right. I won’t need the office today and can wait to bring anything in. How about the house keys? I could go to a motel if it’s more convenient.

Heavens no. The house is mostly ready, except for some little stuff the committee planned to take care of tonight. The keys are in my office. He followed and watched as she picked up her handbag.

You keep official city keys in your purse? he asked with a slightly raised eyebrow.

Not all of them, she said, briefly annoyed. What right did he have to ask questions about where the keys were kept? Well, maybe as city manager he did have the right. Besides, they were now his house keys; she ought to have locked them in her desk or something. I went over yesterday to help spruce up the place and they suggested I take the keys then, since I was supposed to be holding them for you. It’s a great house, by the way.

There they were. She separated the key ring from a handful of gum wrappers and handed the keys to him.

You must chew quite a bit of gum.

Not me. Bobby Tyler left these on the porch. It was getting late so I stuffed them in my bag rather than going around and dropping them in the garbage can.

I see. His jaw resembled granite.

Wow, she thought. Daniel might be a hunk, but he also seemed mighty uptight. Of course, that was mostly a feeling she’d gotten from his body language and the cool look in his eyes. He hadn’t actually said or done anything overly stuffy—he also hadn’t been especially friendly, but it wasn’t fair to judge him for that.

* * *

DANIEL TOOK A deep breath. No doubt things would have been in better order if there hadn’t been a miscommunication about his arrival date. He would have to keep reminding himself about that. It wasn’t easy; he was tired from driving all night, and seeing the mess in his new office only enhanced his fatigue.

What else did he expect?

This was a small town...a really small town. He was accustomed to communities with extensive staffing—someday he hoped to manage a major city. Excitement charged through Daniel at the thought. The only thing better would be heading up emergency services in a large metropolitan area, but that was a tougher career path.

In the meantime, he had Willow’s Eve. And he couldn’t complain; he’d known the town was small and wouldn’t have as many services. But he had been so anxious to leave Southern California that he’d taken the job when it was offered—life had gotten sticky down there once his ex-wife started dating the mayor. And to think, she used to say how much she hated having to be polite to the schmuck at Christmas parties. Her attitude had changed rapidly once their divorce was finalized...or maybe the schmuck was the reason she’d walked out in the first place.

Hell, no point in going there. He needed to focus on the immediate present and the future. Getting settled fast was important. He wanted his new house to feel like a home when Samantha arrived with her grandmother. He’d decided to delay their arrival so he wouldn’t be starting a new job and helping his daughter adjust at the same time.

The phone rang and the young woman—it was hard to think of her as the director of a community program—checked which line the call was coming in on, punched the flashing button and picked up the receiver.

Mandy Colson, Senior Center. May I help you? she answered cheerfully. A silence followed. "Bella, you can’t put it off. The new city manager is here and needs his office....Uh-uh, there’s no way he can work with that stuff covering everything....Yeah, that might be okay....I’ll try to explain....See you tonight."

She set down the receiver and glanced at Daniel with a guilty expression.

Don’t tell me, he said, trying to show some understanding. After all, it wasn’t Mandy Colson’s fault. My office won’t be cleared by tomorrow?

No, it will be, just not before tonight. I’m really sorry. That was Bella Smythe. She chairs the Scholarship Board and forgot about Cora Mikelson’s wedding shower this afternoon. I don’t know Cora since she moved to Vicksville a year ago—they say to catch the guy she’s been sweet on for years—and she finally did, so it’s kind of a big deal....