Do You Hear What I Hear?

“Couldn’t I find some other turn to take? I could plan a bake sale, or—”

“You could plan the Christmas party.” Mabel shook a motherly finger at Libby. “I need someone I know I can count on.”

“But I don’t have the time.” Time. Libby felt as if every day was a race against the clock. All day long on her feet, then her evenings with Meg, and all the responsibility for the household chores and…

Libby shook her head. No, she didn’t have time for anything else.

“What if I got someone to co-chair the event?” Mabel asked.

Mabel wasn’t going to give up. Libby could see it in the older woman’s stubborn expression and realized she’d lost this particular battle before she’d even started fighting.

Facing the inevitable, she asked, “Someone who’ll co-chair in name only, or someone who is willing to dig in and really work?”

“Work.” Mabel held up her fingers in a scout’s honor sign and then crossed her heart.

If the woman had a heart she would never have come to Libby and made this absurd request in the first place. Despite the fact that everything in her was screaming to refuse, Libby found herself saying, “Maybe, if I’m not doing everything all by myself, I could manage.”

“Of course you can,” Mabel promised. “This is a good way for you to have some fun. We all worry about you. All you do is work and take care of Meg. You need a life.”

“And planning a Christmas party is your way of assuring I get a life?”

Mabel shrugged even as she broke into a grin. “It’s a start. And if you have any problems or questions, you know you just have to ask.”

The coffeemaker made the glug, glug sound that indicated it was done brewing. Gratefully Libby poured herself a mug. If Mabel had come after her first few cups, she suspected she would have done a better job of getting out of this particular task.

“If I have questions, you’ll have the answer?” she asked.

“Of course not. I’m a delegator, not a problem solver.” Mabel grinned infectiously. “But I’ll sympathize.”

“Gee, you’re too generous.”

Mabel shrugged. “It’s a fault.”

“Do you want a cup?” Libby asked, but Mabel shook her head. “You know it’s going to be your fault if this party is a bust. I don’t throw personal parties, so what do I know about throwing one for around fifty people?”

“As much as anyone else, I’m afraid. And, Libby?”

Something in Mabel’s tone made Libby even more concerned. She took a fortifying gulp of coffee. “Yes?”

“Um, I did mention that this Christmas party isn’t just for the group?”

“No?” It was for more than the dozen or so businesses, and their employees, that made up the Perry Square Small Business Association?

“Families, too.”

“Mabel!” Quickly Libby’s mind tried to come up with some calculations. The Perry Square Business Association, the PSBA, had a dozenish businesses as members, about fifty people. If families were included, that was definitely over a hundred people.

“Just how many people am I planning for?” Libby asked.

“Oh, I don’t know. Somewhere under two hundred. And don’t worry. I’ll have a list of kids for you, and their ages.”

Libby glared at the woman she used to consider a friend. “Why do I need the children’s ages?”

“So Santa can have the appropriate presents there for them.”

“Presents?” What on earth had she gotten herself into? “Mabel, you didn’t say anything about families, or kids or presents. I was thinking a brunch at some restaurant, maybe a party favor or two. There’s no way—”

“—you could do it alone, which is why the idea of a co-chair is such a good one.” Mabel must have sensed she’d best get while the getting was good, because she grabbed her coat and started toward the door.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Libby called. “We’re not done talking here.”

“Now, don’t you worry. I’ve got a couple great lists that should prove very helpful. And it just so happens that I suddenly have the perfect idea for a co-chair for you.”

“Who?” Libby tried to think of anyone in their group who was crazy enough to let Mabel rope them in. She couldn’t think of a soul…other than herself.

“I don’t want to say until I’m sure.” Mabel’s hand was on the doorknob.

“Mabel, you’re making me nervous.”

Mabel turned around and faced Libby with a look of confusion on her face. “You know, people say I make them nervous all the time and I’m not sure why.”

“Maybe it has to do with your coming at them with needles, or maybe you just have one of those personalities that makes people nervous.” Realizing that Mabel had managed to get her off the subject of the Christmas party, Libby added, “About this party—”

“Gotta go,” said the neighborhood needle-pushing acupuncturist and busybody as she raced out the door.

Libby watched helplessly as Mabel disappeared from the front of the store. Plan a Christmas party? What had she been thinking?

She’d have to worry about it later, because she had a full day’s schedule waiting for her. But worry about it she would.

There was just no way she could plan a party for two hundred in just a few weeks. The shop would be a madhouse between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Most of the time Libby looked forward to the holidays. But suddenly she was feeling decidedly Grinchy about this Christmas party.

Grinchy wasn’t the word to describe how Libby felt as she waited for her four-thirty appointment later that day.

“What do you want now?” she barked when parking-space-hogging Dr. Gardner waltzed into the shop and took a seat in front of her.

“Just a quick trim.”

Realization hit her. “I saw J. Gardner in the appointment book, but I didn’t realize it was you.” The name had been in Josie’s handwriting. Libby should have asked who the customer was when she didn’t recognize the name.

If Pearly and Josie weren’t in the back room, she’d be giving them the evil eye, hoping to make them worry about a lecture when this new customer left.

“Believe it or not, Doctor isn’t my first name. Most of my friends call me Joshua, or Josh even.”

“Then I think I’ll stick to Dr. Gardner, if you don’t mind.”

He was watching her reflection in the mirror, Libby realized. His dark brown eyes studied her, making her feel like a hare being stalked by a hawk.

“And if I said I did mind, Libby?” he asked softly.

“Then I’d say, so sorry, Dr. Gardner, I prefer we keep things formal.” She whipped the cape around his neck, and pulled it closed with a little more force than required. “And the name’s Ms. McGuiness.”

He sighed. “You’re still miffed about the parking space.”

“Miffed?” She reached for a comb, tapping the excess sterilizer solution against the side of the soaking jar.

“The flowers as an apology didn’t help? In my experience, women love that kind of thing. Plus, I had to go to the effort of looking up your address in the phone book.”

“I realize that alphabetical order might cause you some difficulty, so I’ll give you credit for having to figure out just where McGuiness might be in the phone book. And I might admit I love flowers, though I hate to be a generalization, but your card just added insult to injury.”

From anyone else she might have found the card humorous, even cute, but from Dr. My-smile-gets-me-out-of-trouble Gardner, she was simply even more put out.

Libby stared at his hair a moment, strangely reluctant to touch him. Why was that? Of course he was good-looking, but she cut a lot of good-looking men’s hair and never felt this unreasonable need to keep as much distance as possible between herself and them. Men didn’t affect her—not anymore. She was totally immune to the whole species.

“An apology added insult to injury?” He craned his head so he could look her in the eye. “How?”

“Dr. Gardner, if I’d seen an apology, I’d have accepted it.” Forcing herself to shake the crazy urge to run as far away as she could get, Libby reached out and turned Dr. Gardner’s head so he was facing forward. “The card was just another slap in the face.”

“You don’t have much of a sense of humor, do you, Ms. McGuiness?”

“Sure I do, when I see something humorous.”

The only funny thing she saw right now was the strange emotions Dr. Gardner seemed to be evoking in her. She wasn’t the type to start fights on the street, and she wasn’t the type to hold a grudge, and yet holding one she was—holding on to it as tightly as she possibly could.

“Are you saying I’m not funny?” he asked.

“I’m saying you’re certainly funny, just not in a humorous sense of the word.”

“I’ll have you know that plenty of women find me humorous.”

Libby realized that Josie and Pearly were probably in the back room hanging on every word of her conversation with the irritating Dr. Gardner. Determined not to give them anything else worth listening to, she finished the absurd argument. “I’m sure they do, Dr. Gardner. I’m sure they do. But the big laughs you give other women don’t interest me at all. What kind of cut you want does.”

“Like I said before, just a trim.” The humor in his voice had faded, replaced by a clipped annoyance.

“You’re sure you’re comfortable trusting me with a sharp implement at your neck?” Libby was sure she wouldn’t trust the good doctor. His frustration was evident by his expression.

“I’m sure you’re much too professional to maim a paying customer.”

“Fine.” Finally the man shut up. Libby spritzed his hair with her water bottle, then snipped in blessed silence.

Joshua Gardner might not be as humorous as he liked to think, but Libby would admit the man had a fine head of hair. Thick, with a slight tendency to curl. Running her fingers through it would be a pure sensual delight if she was the kind of woman who paid attention to those kind of things. But Libby didn’t pay attention to the way the ends of his hair curled around her fingers. No, not one bit of attention.

No wonder he kept his hair well trimmed. Otherwise it would rapidly get out of control, just as her strange thoughts were out of control.

She toyed with the hair, just making sure she’d cut it evenly, she assured herself. That was the only reason her fingers were lingering in his hair. It had nothing to do with the pleasure of running her fingers through his dark locks. Not a thing.

“Are you done fondling me?” Joshua finally asked, pulling Libby from her hair-induced daze.

“If you didn’t want me to touch you, why on earth did you make an appointment to have me cut your hair?” She spun the chair so it faced her rather than the mirror.

“I made the appointment because I thought I could kill two birds with one stone. Get a much-needed trim and discuss what we’re going to do about the party.”

“What party?”

Joshua stuck out his hand. “Hi. Joshua Gardner, cochairman of the PSBA Christmas party.”

Libby ignored the hand. “I’ll kill her.”

“I could ask her who, but I’m going to assume you mean Mabel. And I’m going to assume the fact you want to kill her indicates you’re less than enthused at the prospect of working with me. Since planning a Christmas party requires very little parallel parking, I think we should be safe.” He shot her a smile, one that had probably gotten him out of countless sticky situations.

Despite the fact that a smiling, newly trimmed Joshua Gardner was a sight to behold, Libby frowned. “I quit.”

His smile slipped a notch. “What?”

“You can plan the party yourself.”

There. Problem solved. Libby hadn’t wanted to plan the Christmas party before she found out who her co-chair would be, but now…well, having a mammogram was higher on her list of things she wanted to do. At least a mammogram had some intrinsic value, something she’d found totally lacking in Joshua Gardner. Unless she considered his great head of hair—which Libby definitely wasn’t considering.

“I don’t know the area,” Joshua protested. “I mean, I might be from Erie, but things have changed since I left home.”

“I’m sure you can find someone else to help you.”

Josie and Pearly had been quiet in the back room—too quiet. She was betting either of them would willingly throw themselves at the man’s feet, and help plan the party.

“I’m sure one of my employees would volunteer.”

A small thud came from the back—a thud she was sure her two employees were responsible for. Whether it was Pearly and Josie thumping, Sure we’ll do it or What are you thinking? Libby wasn’t sure. The only thing she was sure of was that she didn’t want to spend any more time than necessary with Dr. Gardner.

“What are you afraid of, Libby?” he asked quietly.

“Ms. McGuiness,” she corrected. “And I’m not afraid of anything. You just rub me the wrong way, and I don’t have the time or patience to pretend your arrogant, overbearing manner is acceptable. So, keep your flowers, your hair and your smiles to yourself. And find someone else to help with the party.”

“Are you telling me that you are immature enough to let one small incident mar any further relationship between us?”

He removed the cape and stood, facing Libby. She had to crane her neck to look him in the eyes, but look him in the eyes she did. “Let me assure you, Dr. Gardner, I have no interest in a relationship with you. You might think that no woman can resist you, but I’m quite capable. I have no desire—”

“I wasn’t talking about a personal relationship,” he interrupted. “I was talking about a professional relationship. We’re both members of the Perry Square Business Association, and we’re neighbors. Surely you’re adult enough to put one small disagreement behind us, and work together on this one little party. Unless you’re avoiding me for some other reason.”

Libby knew a challenge when she heard one. She shouldn’t care what he thought, as long as he thought it somewhere she wasn’t. But despite the fact she should just let him think whatever his tiny little mind wanted to think, she found herself saying, “Fine.”

“Fine. You’ll stay my co-chairman?”

“Yes. But no more flowers, no more parking anywhere near my car and we keep our meetings as brief as possible and strictly business.”

Again, Joshua extended his hand and this time, reluctantly, Libby accepted it in an impersonal handshake.

“Partners,” he simply said.

“For now,” she added.

“Thanks for the haircut.” He reached in his pocket and handed her a bill. “Will that cover it?”

“Just let me get you your change.”

“Keep it. Could we meet tomorrow night after work?”

Libby wanted to say no to both the tip and the meeting. But the tip would go toward Meg’s computer, and tomorrow was Friday and Meg was spending the night with the Hendersons, so it was convenient. But it irked her to tell the good doctor so.

“Fine,” she said grudgingly.

“Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow after work, Ms. McGuiness.” He turned and left the store.

As if every ounce of energy had drained away, Libby sank into the chair that was still warm with Joshua Gardner’s body heat.

“Way to go, honey,” Pearly said as she burst from the back room.

“For a minute there, I thought you’d blown it.” Josie patted her hair. Her opinion was, bigger was better, and her red-from-a-bottle hair was certainly proof of that philosophy. Despite its impressive height, there was never a strand out of place. Josie’s nails were as loud as her hair, and just about as big and red. As the shop’s manicurist, she felt her nails were advertisement, and she advertised as much as she could. “I mean, Mabel found the perfect guy for you to work with.”

“Perfect?” Libby snorted. “He’s overbearing, arrogant, very unhumorous in his I-think-I’m-soooo-funny way, and—”

“Flowers. Tell us about the flowers,” Pearly commanded. Pearly, the shop’s other hairstylist, still carried her Georgia roots in every word she uttered, just as she carried her own natural graying brunette hair. Pearly didn’t believe in pretenses, not even with hair color. Soft and very Southern, Pearly was a lady to the core of her being.

“You two were eavesdropping.” The accusation held very little heat. Libby was well aware that Pearly and Josie were professional eavesdroppers and busybodies. That’s why they got along with Mabel so well. There was no way they would have been able to resist the opportunity to spy.

“Of course we were spying,” Josie said, honest to the core.

“You should have just gone home. You didn’t have any more appointments,” she grumbled.

“And miss all the action?” Josie laughed. “I don’t think so.”

“What was that thump back there?”

“Me kicking the wall,” Josie admitted. “I thought you’d blown it.”

“I wish I had.” Libby rubbed her temple. Dealing with Joshua Gardner had given her a headache. Dealing with Josie and Pearly was intensifying it.

“Honey, when fate throws a good-looking man in your lap, it’s best to catch him.” Pearly was always spouting off down-home wisdom.

“Personally I’ve found it best to duck.” Especially if that man was Joshua Gardner.

“You’re hopeless,” Josie said, snapping her gum for emphasis.

“No, I’m a realist. And realistically there’s no way Joshua Gardner and I will ever get along.”

Joshua Gardner was a realist. Realist enough to know that working with Libby McGuiness—Ms. McGuiness—was going to be a huge pain. Either the woman didn’t like men in general, or she just didn’t like him. It didn’t matter which it was—working with her was going to be a chore. He should have just let her bow out and asked Mabel to find someone else he could work with.

But he hadn’t let her bow out.

In fact, he’d practically insisted she continue chairing the party. His actions didn’t make sense. And if there was one thing Joshua Gardner liked, it was having things make sense.

Maybe that’s why his breakup with Lynn had been so difficult. It didn’t make sense. He’d thought they were happy…right up until the day Lynn told him she wanted a divorce. The divorce didn’t make sense to Joshua, at least until he’d met Lynn’s new boy-toy. Twenty-five with a washboard stomach. Then it made plenty of sense.

He looked down. His stomach wasn’t exactly a washboard, but it wasn’t potbelly, either. He took care of himself, but didn’t push the line to obsessing about his body. And though he wasn’t twenty-five anymore, he was happy being almost forty. Well, maybe not happy, but not dreading his forties. No midlife crises for him, unless you counted a failed marriage, and picking up and starting over again.

He’d been living the life that he’d always wanted…Well, except for kids. He’d wanted them. She hadn’t. And they had none.

Lynn said she’d worked as hard for her degree as he had for his, and she wasn’t about to give up all that work for some mewling brats. He’d pointed out he’d be willing to split the burdens fifty-fifty, just like he wanted to split the joys, but Lynn would hear none of it.

In the end, nothing was split quite fifty-fifty, but the settlement was fair enough. Lynn had bought out his half of their practice, and it had given him enough to start over. To start here in Erie, his hometown.

Though his family had scattered throughout the country, this was still home.

So here he was.

Dr. Joshua Gardner of Gardner’s Ophthalmology. Footloose and fancy-free, and utterly unsure of what to do with his loose ends.

He’d readily agreed to Mabel’s request because chairing the Christmas party gave him something to do, and gave him a way to ease into the community he had joined. His agreement had nothing to do with the fact that the very bristly Ms. McGuiness would be working with him.

No. It had nothing to do with her at all.

She was his neighbor. This was just an excellent way to get over the hurdle of their first, inauspicious meeting.

That’s all it was.

Chapter Three

A business meeting.

That’s all this was.

People had them all the time.

The phrases ran through her head all day, and yet not one eased the raging case of nerves Libby had developed. It was only a meeting, and Libby didn’t know why it was bothering her so much. But when she accidentally dropped her scissors for about the hundredth time of the day, she knew it was useless to deny her anxiety any longer.

She was nervous as hell about this little meeting.

“Would you stop fluttering around the shop like some sort of drunken butterfly?” Josie asked, exasperation in her voice. “He’s only a man, sweetums. And men are a dime a dozen. You can take my word for that.”

“He’s not a man, he’s a business associate. That’s the only reason I’m seeing him tonight. Business.”

“If you say so,” Josie said with a sly smile.

“I do.”

“Well, then settle down.” There was more than a hint of indulgence in Josie’s voice.

“I’m not nervous,” Libby said with as much force as she could muster.

“Hey, my appointment just canceled,” Pearly called as she came in from the back room.

“Why don’t you just take off early?” Libby offered.

“That’s one idea,” Pearly said slowly.

Libby sensed a trap, but asked anyway, “What’s the other?”

“You could let me have a go at that hair. It’s getting so long, and it’s such heavy hair that carrying around that weight all day can’t be comfortable.”

Libby grabbed her braid. No way was she going to let Pearly start trimming. “It’s fine.”

“Don’t you trust me?” Pearly asked innocently. Much too innocently.

“Of course I trust you,” Libby reassured her, even while she silently added, As far as I can throw you. “But I don’t have time to get my hair cut. I have a meeting in an hour and have to close up the shop and—”

“We’ll close up the shop for you. And I’m not talking a cut, just a small trim,” Pearly pressed.

“You really need one,” Josie said, blatantly choosing Pearly’s side as she joined the skirmish.

“Well…”

“Come on, Libby.” Pearly sensed the kill was at hand and pounced. “You just sit yourself in this chair and let me give your hair a quick rinse. We’ll have it all trimmed, smart and proper, before your date—”

“It’s not a date, it’s a business meeting,” Libby said again. Exactly who she was reminding she wasn’t sure. She’d had meetings in the past and had never felt this jittery about any of them.

“Who’s Libby meeting?” Mrs. Kane asked from Josie’s manicure chair.

“The new doctor next door,” Josie said.

“It’s just a meeting,” Pearly soothed. “Well, let’s get this done before your meeting shows up.”

Reluctantly Libby sat. The wash went fine, and Pearly led her to the chair, had the cape whipped over her shoulders before Libby could blink an eye. It wasn’t until Pearly picked up the scissors that the trouble started. “Uh-oh.”

“Uh-oh, what?” Libby asked, craning her head to peek in the mirror.

“I slipped with the scissors,” Pearly cheerfully responded.

“How did you slip with the scissors when you’ve only just started?”

“It was easy. But don’t you worry. You’re going to just sit here and let me fix up this mess I created.”

Knowing that her hacked hair was no accident, Libby resigned herself to a real cut—a cut she hadn’t asked for and didn’t necessarily want.

“Pearly, what are you doing?” she asked as the snipping seemed to continue for an inordinately long time. Libby cut hair for a living and knew that this was taking longer than a trim—even a trim with slipping—should take.

“You just sit back and relax. You don’t relax nearly enough.” Clip. Clip.

“And it doesn’t appear I’m going to get much relaxing done tonight.”

“Yeah, meetings aren’t very relaxing, are they?” Pearly asked. Snip. Snip.

“Especially not when you’re meeting with a handsome man like Joshua,” Josie added.

Clip. Clip.

“I haven’t met the new doctor yet.” Mrs. Kane looked interested. “Is he that good-looking?”

“Better,” Josie assured her.

“Worth getting an eye exam,” Pearly added. Snip. Snip.