The Wild Card [Harvest Moon: Sunshine Islands]

Chapter 11

Colette hurried back to her ranch, and after putting away her fishing tackle, she pulled on her heavy work boots and headed out to the pasture. She herded Blossom toward the barn, using a slender branch cut from one of her willow trees as a goad to keep her from turning back for another mouthful of tempting green grass. After that, she enticed Minnie to come to her with a handful of cracked corn, then returned her to her coop. She fed both animals and made sure the doors were securely latched, then hurried back to her house.

She hadn't been on a date in such a long time—she shivered slightly as that thought flitted through her mind. It was just a little too close for her comfort, touching on memories she only wanted to forget. Turning her thoughts away from the past and back into the present, she opened her closet and stood examining her wardrobe. Finally she set out a lightweight sleeveless chambray shirtdress with a brown leather belt, brown ankle boots, and a leather wrap bracelet with turquoise and agate beads. Then she went to shower.

As the hot water streamed over her, filling the tiny room with steam, she thought to herself that she was more nervous than she had expected she would be. What if Will somehow recognized her face? He was obviously from a wealthy family; it wasn't inconceivable that they might have acquaintances in common. She bit her lip and scrubbed a little harder. What if... what if he knew? She wasn't at all sure she was ready to start dating again yet, after all.

But she also knew she had to go through with it sooner or later, that dating again was a critical part of letting go of the past. And putting it off wasn't going to make it any easier.

She dried her hair and brushed it until it shone like brown silk, sparkling with gold where the sun had kissed it. Then she dabbed on a little of her favorite evening perfume and applied a little makeup—nothing heavy, just a touch of mascara and liner and some lipstick. After dressing and changing purses, she checked the clock—a quarter to seven. So she sat on her sofa and picked up the book she'd been reading.

A few minutes later, there was a knock on her door. She opened it, and Will was standing there smiling and holding a large bunch of fiery orange roses, deepening to crimson at the tips. "For you," he said, holding them out to her.

"Oh! Thank you," she exclaimed, taking them and breathing in their spicy-sweet fragrance. "They're beautiful. Please have a seat while I put these in some water."

He looked around as he took a seat on the small sofa. "What a charming cottage you have here."

She laughed as she reached up to a high shelf to grab a cobalt blue glass pitcher. "Translation: 'What a tiny house!'" Filling the vase with water and trimming the ends of the roses, she went on. "It's okay, I don't mind. It is tiny. But you should have seen it when I first arrived! No electricity, no plumbing, and positively on the verge of collapse. At least now it's livable." Arranging the stems artistically, she set the vase on her table and turned to smile at her guest. "I might add some rooms to it some day. But for now, it's big enough. I'm finding that living in such a small space forces me to consider carefully everything I brought with me or that I consider buying, and as a result, I'm doing without a lot of things that really weren't necessary in the first place."

"Ahh, yes, the economy of space. I have become well-acquainted with it myself, living on my yacht as I have for the past several months."

"Yes, I would think so. Though I believe you could easily fit two of my home inside your yacht!"

He laughed and rose. "Well, perhaps. Shall we be going?"

They ambled along the path into the village, chatting as they strolled. He asked her about her life in the islands, and she asked him about his travels. Before they knew it, they arrived at the diner. Inside, Will looked around uncertainly, so Colette led him to where Nick stood smiling at them behind the long counter. They placed their orders, then selected a quiet booth in a corner. Most of the dinner crowd had already finished and left, so the only other diners were a couple of tourists and Pierre, the gourmand, whose meals often lasted for hours since he savored every morsel as if it was his last.