After the Easter service at the Aspen Creek Community Church, Darcy drove up the long lane winding through a heavy pine forest to Dr. Boyd’s house, knowing this was probably a big mistake.
Logan certainly hadn’t been friendly when he’d first arrived at the clinic on Friday. He’d been gruff and completely lacking in empathy toward her and the clinic staff. He was clearly looking forward to firing them all.
And he probably wouldn’t accept her invitation anyway. So why had she even bothered to come?
Because, she muttered under her breath, she should treat him as kindly as she would any other newcomer, even if she had yet to find anything likable about him whatsoever.
“What, Mommy?” Emma chirped from her new booster seat in back.
“Just talking to myself, sweetie.” Darcy’s mood brightened. Maybe Logan had a wife and kids, and they were all celebrating Easter by themselves, though something about him made her guess that he was probably alone. That would be no surprise, if he was cold to everyone.
She looked up at Emma in the rearview mirror. “I’m guessing that Dr. Maxwell might not want to join us for dinner, but we’ll see.”
Emma sat up a little straighter to look around and squealed with delight at her surroundings as the house and barn came into view. “Will Barney be here?”
I wish. I wish everything was still the same—that the old sheepdog would come romping out of the barn to meet us, and that Dr. Boyd would be here, too.
He’d been more than a mentor during the seven months she’d worked with him. He’d been kind and perceptive and caring, like the grandfathers she’d never known but had pictured. He’d helped her get through the bleakest time of her life.
But now he was gone, and nothing would ever be the same again.
“Barney lives with Marilyn now, sweetie. Remember? And Dr. Boyd is up in heaven.”
“Can we go see Barney?” Emma asked somberly.
“Of course we can. Maybe tomorrow.” Darcy pulled to a stop in front of the sprawling, rustic log home with river rock pillars and rock siding at the front porch. Set in the shade of towering pines, the house blended into its surroundings and matched the hip-roofed barn and wood-fenced corrals.
It had been the home of her dreams, but the house and clinic had been far beyond her financial reach.
A gleaming black crew cab Dodge pickup with Montana plates was parked in front of the garage, so apparently Logan was home. She stepped out of her SUV, smoothed her peach linen skirt and helped Emma out of her booster seat.
Twisting a strand of her blond hair around her finger, the four-year-old frowned and looked around. “Will there be Easter baskets here?”
“At home,” Darcy promised. She bent down to fluff the layers of pink ruffles cascading from the waist of her daughter’s dress. “We won’t be here long.”
A spiral-sliced ham was waiting in the oven back at the cottage, and creamy mashed potatoes were staying warm in a Crock-Pot. Several colorful salads were finished and in the fridge. But the day seemed strange again this year, with just the two of them to celebrate the joy of Easter.
It had to be different for Logan, as well, assuming he had observed the usual Easter traditions back in Montana. Then again, was he even a believer? Beyond the fact that he’d arrived intending to fire her, she knew nothing about him.
At the sound of hammering out past the barn, she took Emma’s hand and headed that way, taking in the contrast of the many new boards that now replaced the broken ones.
As they rounded the barn, he came into view. He eyed the three-plank oak fence line stretching toward the heavy timber to the west. Tapped a top board upward into perfect alignment and nailed it in place.
“Hello there,” Darcy called out. “Happy Easter.”
He spun around, clearly startled, and frowned as he dropped the hammer into a loop on his low-slung tool belt. He gave them a short nod.
It wasn’t much of a greeting, but she resolutely strode forward with Emma in tow. “Looks like you’ve been working hard since you got here.”
“Yesterday and today.” He tipped his head toward the corral. “I need at least one safe corral finished before I can go back for my horses and the rest of my things.”
Emma had shyly hung back behind Darcy, but now she took a tentative step forward. “You have horses?”
His cool demeanor softened as he looked down at her. “Just two. Drifter is a pretty palomino mare just about the color of your hair, and Charlie is a bay gelding with four white socks and a blaze. I’ve had him since I was twelve.”
She looked up at him in awe. “I want a pony but Mommy says not ’til I’m bigger. That’s too long.”
Darcy cleared her throat, knowing all too well where that conversation was heading. “We actually stopped by because I figured you don’t know anyone in town yet, and thought you might like to join us for Easter dinner this afternoon. I didn’t think to ask you when we first met on Friday.”
“Well, I...”
“It’s just the two of us here in town, so we won’t have a big family gathering or anything.”
Emma’s eyes sparkled. “Could you bring a horse?”
He looked down at her and chuckled. “That would be fun, but I’m heading back to Montana as soon as I put away my tools.”
Emma’s face fell. “Mommy even made my favorite pink fluffy Jell-O. And then I get to hunt for Easter baskets. What if there’s one for you?”
That deep slash of a dimple appeared when he smiled at her. “I think I’m too old for that, darlin’. But I know you’ll have a great time.”
“We’d better go home and let Dr. Maxwell finish up so he can get on his way.” Darcy reached for her hand. “I hope you have a safe trip. Let Marilyn know when you’ll be back, in case someone asks.”
When he looked up at Darcy, his warmth faded as quickly as if he’d turned it off with a switch, and he was back to his aloof business persona. “Probably Thursday or Friday.”
“Uh...I’ll let her know. Safe travels.” She turned away and headed back to the car with Emma.
How awkward was that? He’d shown kindness to Emma, but if he was this cool and distant with his clients, he wasn’t going to fare well.
Though if he didn’t connect well with them, maybe he’d eventually put the practice up for sale, and perhaps by then she’d be able to find favorable financing. A little flare of hope settled in her heart.
Maybe her dreams could still come true.
* * *
“We’re down to only fourteen volunteers now,” Beth said on Friday afternoon as she studied the list on her iPad. She drummed her fingers on the vet clinic receptionist’s counter. “I never expected six would cancel. All of our posters promised there would be twenty, and the handyman fundraiser auction is tonight. Guess I was too optimistic.”
“There should still be enough money for the church youth group trip, though,” Darcy said.
“For the kids, probably. But not enough to cover the chaperones’ expenses, and some of those parents just can’t afford it otherwise. Without enough chaperones, the trip is off. Have you asked Logan to participate? I’ll bet he would be willing.”
“Ask him? I barely know him.” Darcy shuddered. “He doesn’t seem like the benevolent type. And this would be an awfully big favor.”
“Wouldn’t it be a great introduction for him in the community, though? Participating for such a good cause would surely cast him in a more favorable light. He didn’t exactly have an auspicious start in town.”
“Thanks to Paul Miller, who had no business starting those rumors at the cafe.” And mostly thanks to Logan himself, but she tried to rein in that uncharitable thought. “For all I know, Logan doesn’t even have the skills for this sort of thing. I’ve seen him wield a hammer, but that was only on a fence board.”
“Call him and find out,” Beth insisted. “You have his cell number, right? Tell him the auction is for just twenty hours of labor. Surely he could manage to do something useful for someone.”
“Maybe. But I haven’t even seen him all week—not since he showed up and announced that my career, my whole life, is being turned upside down. Marilyn’s and Kaycee’s, too, and you know how much they need their jobs.” Darcy thought for a minute. “Oh, and I also saw him briefly last Sunday, when he refused my invitation for Easter dinner and was pretty much cold as ice when we talked. A very brief conversation, I might add.”
Beth grinned. “And here I thought he might just be the perfect match for you. Handsome, same career, lots to talk about...”
Darcy snorted. “No way. Sounds like fairy-tale stuff to me. Been there, done that, and I’m not going down that road again. Ever.”
“If he’s been gone all week, maybe he’s changed his mind about buying the clinic and is scouting out other possibilities.”
“I wish,” Darcy retorted dryly. “But I think the purchase of the clinic is a done deal. Signed contracts and all of that. He called the clinic this morning and told Marilyn he’d be back sometime late today with his two horses and the rest of his things. That sounds permanent to me.”
“So, will you make that call?” Beth fixed Darcy with an expectant look. “Please? We could bend the rules so he wouldn’t even need to appear onstage.”
Darcy laughed, remembering Logan’s narrow-eyed glower when they’d first run into each other at the clinic. “That actually might be for the best no matter when he shows up back in town.”
“Just be sure to let my assistant know as soon as you have an answer, because Janet will be printing the final version of the program at six thirty, and the auction starts at eight.”
There were reasons Beth had made such a success of her bookstore, and sheer determination topped the list. Darcy sighed heavily as she glanced at the clock on the wall. “I’ll send him a text. I need to take Emma to her dental appointment at four, and I’ll be busy with clients all afternoon. If he doesn’t respond by then, Kaycee can ask him when he stops in.”
Beth beamed. “Perfect.”
“Well, hang on to that thought, but I doubt he’ll agree. Anyway, I suspect most bidders have already set their sights on the handyman they prefer, so Logan might not generate much for the fundraiser.”
“Are you still planning to bid on Edgar Larson?”
“Absolutely.” Darcy fervently clapped a hand against her upper chest. “He is the man of my dreams.”
Beth laughed. “But just a bit old for you, sweetie—by forty years at least. And don’t forget about Agnes.”
“All the better. I understand Ed is the best craftsman in the bunch, and my late aunt’s cottage is in serious need of repairs. And I hear his wife sends along her incredible caramel rolls whenever he starts a new job.”
“So I’ve heard. Those rolls alone should double his worth during the bidding.”
“I sure hope not. But I suspect every single, divorced or widowed woman in town wants to win him as much as I do.”
“As do all of the women whose husbands can barely change a lightbulb. Edgar is our biggest draw every year, bless his heart. Last year he was first on the program, and a third of the audience left as soon as his work was auctioned. This year, we’ve got him last.”
“I’ll sure be hoping. Last month I did a lot of calling around, trying to find someone to start doing repairs and updating. The reputable firms are booked at least six months out, and I may no longer have that kind of time to wait.”
Beth rested a comforting hand over Darcy’s. “Our whole book club is praying you’ll be able to stay in town one way or another, believe me.”
“I’m praying, too. But I still need to be prepared.” Darcy tapped a brief text to Logan and held up her phone for Beth to see, then hit Send. “There, it’s done.”
“Thanks a million.” Beth leaned in for a quick hug. “Now we’re all set.”
Probably not, Darcy thought as she headed into an exam room, where a cocker spaniel was awaiting a health exam and vaccinations. Would Logan even consider the request?
There was no answer to her text by the time she’d finished with the spaniel.
Nothing by the time she finished with her other appointments and gathered her purse and car keys to go pick up Emma. Of course not. She hadn’t expected him to agree, but at least he could’ve been thoughtful enough to respond.
She stopped in the kennel room, where Kaycee was checking on the IV running for a beagle recovering from surgery. “I still haven’t heard back from Dr. Maxwell. Can you keep trying to reach him? Or tell him about the auction if he stops by the clinic?”
“No problem.”
“Oh, and let Janet or Beth know about his answer, in case they need to add his name to the program.”
“Will do.” Kaycee shut the cage door, turned around and grinned. “Did I hear you say that you’re pinning your hopes on Edgar? He’s my uncle, you know. Crotchety as can be.”
“So I hear, but I’m praying he’ll agree to continue working for me after the twenty hours are up.”
“Best wishes on the bidding, ’cause it’s probably your only chance of getting him to do any work for you. Outside of the annual youth group auction, he’s superfussy about who he works for. Says he’s semiretired.”
“So...if I don’t have the winning bid, you could put in a good word for me later on?” Darcy said. “Please?”
“I’ll ask, but it probably won’t make any difference. His own niece tried to hire him for a project last winter and he flat-out said no. Then again, the whole family knows she’s high-maintenance, and he probably didn’t want the bother.”
“I promise you that I’m not,” Darcy said with a smile as she headed for the door. “I’m desperate, not difficult.”
As she drove to the babysitter’s home to pick up Emma, the truth of her own words weighed heavily on her heart.
The cottage needed a lot of work, as dear old Aunt Tina hadn’t been able to keep up with repairs and updates during her final years. But now there was a ticking clock to consider.
If Logan Maxwell did let her go at the end of two months, her options would be to establish a new practice here—a financial impossibility right now—or to find a practice elsewhere, looking for an associate. But how would the cottage ever pass the mortgage home inspection for a buyer if she suddenly had to sell it and move on?
As she waited at the only stoplight on Main Street, she looked heavenward and briefly closed her eyes. Please Lord, help me win the bidding for Edgar—and give me more time to work things out.
* * *
A large crowd had already gathered in the church reception hall when Darcy arrived with Emma in tow just minutes before Pastor Mark began his opening remarks at a podium.
Two long bake sale tables displayed delectable treats, while several other tables offered arts and crafts items. At the far end of the room, two women were offering hot chocolate and coffee from the kitchen serving window.
“I know you just had supper at home, but would you like some hot chocolate or a treat?” Darcy asked. “I see some pretty frosted cookies on that table.”
Emma nodded somberly. “A cookie. Can we go home?”
“Um...I need to stay, sweetie.” The daytime babysitter who took care of Emma after morning preschool every day was rarely available for evenings, and Darcy hadn’t been able to find anyone else.
She settled Emma on a chair with her cookie and took the chair next to her. “One of the nursery ladies and some teenagers from the youth group are watching kids in the nursery. Would you like to go play with them?”
“I wanna go home.”
Emma’s mood didn’t bode well for the evening, but Darcy could hardly blame her. It had already been a long day for her, and this was now Emma’s usual bath time, to be followed by a bedtime snack and a stack of books to read. In the hope that Edgar had been moved to an earlier time slot, Darcy opened her program and looked down the list.
It was up to fifteen names now, each followed by a brief description of the types of handyman jobs they preferred. Some were members of the church with other careers but willing to mow, rake or help paint. A few offered to help with household repairs or a specific auto maintenance task rather than the twenty hours. A couple said “negotiable.”
Edgar was still at the end of the list and... Oh, my. Darcy drew a sharp breath in surprise. There was Dr. Logan Maxwell’s name, second to last. No skills listed. She glanced at it again in disbelief. He’d actually volunteered?
Surprised, she glanced around the crowded room trying to find Beth or Janet...or even Kaycee, who had planned to take a shift at the bake sale table. Glimpsing Kaycee in the crowd milling at the back of the room, she dropped her jacket on her chair. “I’ll be right back, sweetie. You’ll be able to see me just right over there.”
Emma looked up from nibbling the edge of her cookie and yawned. “Then can we go home?”
“In a little while. Once it gets started, the auction shouldn’t take long.” She strode toward the crowd as Pastor Mark yielded the microphone to Lewis Thomas, a short, spare man with thinning hair and a booming voice, who encouraged vigorous bidding for the sake of the youth group, then began describing the terms of the auction.
He abruptly launched into a rapid-fire auctioneer’s patter, and one after another, the handyman volunteers were auctioned off. Fifty dollars. A hundred. Several went for one fifty.
A woman with a gleam in her eye shouted, “One seventy-five! That one’s my husband, and now he’ll have to take care of my honey-do list!”
The audience erupted in laughter.
“Hey, Kaycee,” Darcy called out as she edged through the people pressing forward toward the podium and made her way to Kaycee’s side. “I’m dying to know what Dr. Maxwell said—and how you convinced him to volunteer. Will he be here tonight?”
A faint blush bloomed on Kaycee’s cheeks. “I’m really sorry, Doc. I never saw him at the clinic. I left two messages on his cell, but he never called back.”
Darcy felt the blood drain from her face. “B-but he’s on the program.”
The younger woman’s eyes widened. “Maybe he talked to someone else?”
“He wouldn’t have known anyone else on the committee.” Darcy bit her lower lip. “I’ll find Beth or Janet. No worries.”
“If he’s listed and his work commitment is auctioned, he’s got to follow through, it’s like a contract,” Kaycee said darkly.
“Surely not if the listing is a mistake,” Darcy retorted. “Try calling him right now. Find out if he knew about this and get him over here right away. He doesn’t need any more bad press in town. I’ll try to find Janet and get his name removed.”
But as she turned to scan the crowd, her gaze landed on Emma. The little girl was still dutifully sitting in her chair a dozen feet away, the cookie barely touched, and tears were trailing down her cheeks. Darcy’s heart lurched as she hurried over, slipped into the chair next to Emma’s and gave her a hug. “I’m so sorry, honey—but you did see where I was, right?”
Emma gave an almost imperceptible nod.
“And did you see your Sunday school teacher just over there? And you know Beth, and Sophie—” Darcy glanced around. “I even see Hannah in the next row. You were safe, I promise.”
Emma nodded tearfully, her lower lip trembling.
“Stay right with me while I find someone, all right?” Darcy scooped the child up into her arms, and Emma sagged against her shoulder, too tired to answer.
Darcy tried to make her way through the crowd, but now everyone was out of their chairs, craning their necks to see who was up next as another five handyman volunteers were auctioned in quick succession.
“Dr. Logan Maxwell,” the auctioneer shouted above the hubbub. “New guy in town, and already helping the community. Gotta give the guy credit. Doesn’t say what kind of work he can do, but let’s go. Starting at two hundred, folks—who is ready to go?”
Darcy froze in horror as the auctioneer’s voice slipped into an almost indecipherable sales patter and the crowd fell silent.
People exchanged glances.
A few snickered.
A stage whisper filtered through the room.
“Who’d want to bid for the likes of him? My poor cousin works at the clinic and said she’d soon be out on her ear...”
Time seemed to stop as more whispers spread through the room. Then the room fell silent once again when the auctioneer dropped the starting bid to a hundred seventy-five. A hundred fifty. “C’mon folks...he’s a real bargain at that. You’ll be helping the kids, and maybe he can even spay your cat.”
Uneasy laughter rippled through the audience. “How ’bout a hundred twenty-five, then...”
Darcy desperately scanned the crowd. Surely someone would be glad to grab such a bargain...or maybe just have mercy on him. Right now he was like an outcast, a pariah who would be the talk around town for a long, long time. And from the hard expressions she saw, that wasn’t going to change. Please, Lord, encourage someone to bid.
Kaycee appeared at Darcy’s side. “This is awful. But on the other hand, he’s mean and he kinda deserves it.”
“No one ever deserves ridicule, and that’s what will happen,” Darcy said quietly. “He’ll be the only guy who failed to receive a single bid. Ever.”
“He’s still mean,” Kaycee retorted.
“To him, the clinic is business, not personal. He’s not changing things out of spite.”
“He doesn’t know any of us, really,” Kaycee said with a stubborn pout. “And he doesn’t care. Anyway, there’s nothing we can do about it. The rules say no one can win more than one handyman each year. You want Edgar and I have an apartment, so I don’t need a handyman at all.”
Darcy needed Edgar desperately. It might take all of what little she had in savings to win him—and even that might not be enough.
Potentially losing her job and trying to move away two months from now would be hard enough. Without his skills, it might be impossible to fix up the cottage enough to sell it in a few months.
But now empathy for Logan burned through her, taking a hard, painful hold of her heart. Could she stand by and let him become the humiliated laughingstock of the auction if no one bid even a few dollars?
She elbowed Kaycee sharply. “Bid,” she whispered. “Now.”
Startled, Kaycee stared at her. “What? I don’t have the money.”
“I’ll pay. Bid against me just to bring it up to a decent amount so it isn’t embarrassing for him, and then I’ll take over. Seventy-five dollars max.”
“Isn’t this dishonest?”
“We’ll be increasing the youth fund profits, not trying to get a deal,” Darcy whispered back. “And I’ll certainly honor my bid if I do win.”
Kaycee weakly raised a hand to bid.
“We’ve got fifty, folks,” the auctioneer cried out jubilantly. “Now, do we have seventy-five...”
Darcy nodded.
From across the room, she saw Gladys Rexworth eye her speculatively, and her heart sank.
“Eighty,” the older woman barked. Her mouth twisted into a malevolent, superior smirk, and now Darcy realized this was personal.
Darcy closed her eyes briefly, remembering the run-ins she’d had with the woman in the past.
She hadn’t wanted Logan to lose face in front of the community. But now this—this would be even worse. Gladys was a wealthy, spiteful woman who seemed to take pleasure in causing others grief with her wicked tongue.
Darcy didn’t even want to imagine how Gladys might enjoy having the new vet under her thumb, and then spread her vicious comments after setting impossible standards for his work.
Darcy held Emma a little tighter and swallowed hard. “Eighty-five.”
Gladys lifted her chin triumphantly. “Two hundred.”
Please, God, tell me what to do here. Edgar stood next to the podium, awaiting his turn. The man who could swiftly, expertly deal with the most serious projects at the cottage...
Her shoulders sagged. “Two twenty-five.”
Gladys’s eyes widened and mouth narrowed. Then she shook her head.
“The vet is the bestseller so far tonight, folks,” the auctioneer crowed. “And our lady vet is the winner! Could this mean there’s a little romance in the air?”
Darcy groaned and ran a palm down her face at the titter of laughter in the audience.
“Now for the last opportunity of the night, we have...” The auctioneer droned on.
A sudden gasp spread through the crowd, and every head turned toward the back entrance.
Dr. Maxwell stood in the open doorway—windblown, disheveled and breathing hard, as if he’d run all the way from the clinic. His incredulous gaze shifted from the auctioneer to Darcy. “What on earth is going on here? I never—”
With Emma still in her arms, Darcy hurried to his side, looped an arm through his, and hauled him back outside. “Everything is fine, folks,” she called over her shoulder. “He’s just surprised to find he’s worth that much. I sure am.”
As she shut the door behind them, the auctioneer’s delighted voice followed her outside. “Back to the highlight of the evening, folks. We have Edgar Larson, your last chance to bid. He’s a fine carpenter who tops our auction every single year...”
She cringed inwardly. What in the world had she done?