Cedar Creek Seasons by Eileen Key Read Free Book Online

dissolved into a belly laugh the likes of which he hadn’t experienced in more years than he could count. What had happened to his boring, well-ordered life? “Sit down, Star. Please.”
    He was thoroughly going to enjoy the unpredictability of being at war with Willow Miles. And her daughter.

    Depictions of the charm and serenity of historic Cedarburg … from the covered bridge dusted with snow in winter to the familiar silhouette of Cream City brick buildings on Washington Avenue … the gallery of world-renowned watercolor and ink artist Wilson Woodhaus will draw tourists … uniting with the residents of Cedarburg to support our mission: Preserving Yesterday’s Heritage Today …
    The lyrical lines of Wilson’s essay jammed her brain as Willow arranged trash bags, rags, disinfectant, and a roll of self-adhesive paper on the kitchen floor. She could never in a million years write like that.
Cushy chairs for children’s bottoms … tiny tables for tea with Tigger … rocking horses in rainbow colors …
Anything she came up with sounded more like a television script for Wonder Pets. She didn’t stand a chance against Mr. So So Good.
    Don’t put him on too high a pedestal
. He was, after all, just a human like anyone else. With flaws and weaknesses—unarmored spots in the soft underbelly of his competitive psyche. She dropped to her knees and sneered at the handle of the cupboard under his kitchen sink. “We’ll see just how perfect you are, mister.”
    This was the housecleaning polygraph, the spot in every house that told the truth about a person’s character. After years of cleaning houses she’d come to see this spot as symbolic of the inner life of the owner of the house. Here she would find tulip bulbs stashed for transplant a decade ago, newspapers dating back to the Vietnam War, and half-empty, disillusioned cans of petrified Miracle-Gro.
    But here she would exercise grace. Here she would ensure Star’s lessons continued. And here, just maybe, she’d give Wilson Woodhaus a hint of what it would be like to have a woman in his life.
    “Here goes.” She yanked the handle. And gasped.
    Red-and-white-checked shelf paper covered the bottom of the cupboard, and on the paper sat a bottle of dish detergent and an empty wastebasket lined with a plastic grocery bag.
    Nothing else.
    Wilson Woodhaus was not a stuffer nor a stasher nor a keeper of secrets. He was who he appeared to be.
    Twenty minutes later, after giving each cupboard and drawer an inside and outside wipe-down it didn’t really need, she realized something else. Crystal had described Wilson as wealthy, witty, and world savvy. Willow had seen a bit of the wit and she had no clue about the world-savvy part, but one thing she knew as she peered into a nearly bare refrigerator.
    Wilson Woodhaus was anything but wealthy.
    In the dim glow from the appliance bulb filament, she made a decision.
    The man who lived on generic hot dogs and off-brand ketchup didn’t need another competitor. He needed a champion, a person who loved to talk and loved to sell, who knew every person in Cedarburg and had once sold a black-and-white-spotted rocking-cow and a hot-pink potty chair to an eighty-one-year-old bachelor.
    She closed the refrigerator door. “Willow Miles, image consultant and PR manager, at your service.”

Chapter 7
    A tad more cocoa?”
    Willow leaned against the refrigerator as her three biggest critics slurped her latest experiment. “Star?”
    “I thought you’d decided on the strawberry one.”
    “I had, but Crystal said that one of the chili cook-off judges has diverticulitis and she can’t eat seeds so—”
    “What’s a diver’s tickle eye dish?” Ralphy’s nose crinkled.
    Star gave an eye-roll performance deserving a 9.8 for creativity and opened the cupboard next to the sink.
    “It’s when you get little pockets in your … it’s a stomach problem.”
    “Eeewww.”
    Star turned around, holding a bag of semisweet chocolate