“You aren’t married, are you, Mister?”
He looked down at the pigtailed, overalls-clad girl who’d followed him out to the garden, where he intended to return a call from his GylesStyle assistant. For some reason, Lillian tended to frown when he took or placed calls unrelated to the Pinewood project, so he’d taken to slipping out of sight and earshot when his real life needed attention.
“Do you think I look married?” he teased.
Taylor scowled in concentration. “I don’t know.”
“What does married look like?”
Come on, Den, stop kidding the little thing. She probably has a crush on you. Wants to marry you when she grows up.
She studied him. “You don’t have a ring, right?”
He waggled the fingers of his left hand. “Nope. No ring.”
That seemed to satisfy her, for she took off running back to the inn. He smiled as he punched Betsy’s speed-dial number.
“Bets. What’s up?”
“Sorry to bother you, but I thought you should know that Vic fired Craig this morning.”
“Not funny.”
Betsy was known for starting her calls off with something outrageous, so when she got to the real reason for the call, it didn’t seem overly calamitous.
“I’m serious. They got into a big fight in Craig’s office this morning. I could hear it clear down the hall. Vic fired him on the spot.”
“Is he out of his mind?” Denny paced the patio. Craig had more experience at GylesStyle in his little finger than Vic could ever hope to accumulate in a lifetime.
“Could you hear what the argument was about? What set Vic off?” He’d always had a powder-keg temper, but to fire Craig, of all people? That was akin to cutting off your own right arm.
“It was about—” She paused.
“Spit it out, Bets.”
“It was about you.”
Denny stilled. “What about me?”
“I couldn’t hear it all. Just bits and pieces because sometimes it got eerily quiet in there, and I thought maybe one of them had dropped the other off the high-rise’s balcony. But part of it at least had to do with changes Vic wanted him to make, and Craig was digging in his heels. He said you would never make such a foolhardy decision, and he wasn’t going to do it without consulting you first. That’s when Vic fired him.”
With a groan, Denny lowered himself to a nearby stone bench.
“Then Vic charged out of the office, his face all red, and not long after that Craig left, too. I don’t know if for good or to cool off.”
“When did this happen?”
“Maybe an hour ago.”
“Thanks for letting me know. Keep me in the loop if you hear anything else.”
“Will do.”
He immediately checked his phone messages. Nothing from his buddy. He punched his colleague’s number, but it went straight to voice mail. “Craig. I talked to Betsy. Call me.”
Still stunned, he stared, unseeing, across the garden in the direction of the gazebo. If Vic started off deliberately provoking Craig, how long would it be before he went after others on Denny’s core team? Nathan? Elijah? Felicia? The rest?
“Denny?”
As if in a fog, he looked toward the inn, where Lillian stood at the back door.
“Todd’s here.”
“Be there in a minute.”
With his mother’s enthusiastic approval last week, the Pinewood’s show was officially on the road. Todd and his crew were on board, and they’d collaborated late into the night all the previous week, firming up plans. If all went well, permits would go to approval the first of next week—a major advantage to a small town, having a local contractor driving things. It didn’t hurt, either, being associated with the influential Hunter clan himself. Big ducks in a little pond.
Lillian turned as if to go back inside, but changed her mind and headed in his direction. “Is everything okay?”
He must look as bad as he felt to elicit that remark. He had no intention of discussing what had taken place at GylesStyle, but at least she wasn’t avoiding him as she had since that episode in the Hunter’s Hideaway parking lot a week ago yesterday. In retrospect, he still didn’t know exactly what had happened there. But it certainly wasn’t about a lost car key.
He shoved back the memory of her star-kissed face upturned to his and abruptly rose to his feet. “A minor business glitch. I’ll get it worked out.”
“It isn’t easy, though, is it, doing the work here at the inn when you need to be—want to be—elsewhere?”
She had no idea. “Nobody ever said life was easy.”
“No. But you seem to be a man who likes being in control.”
“Come again?”
“Never mind. It’s none of my business. Something I’ve observed.”
“Doesn’t everyone like to feel he’s the master of his fate?”
“I suppose. But it’s kind of an illusion, isn’t it? When it comes right down to it, there’s little we’re in control of, although we can control our attitude and may be able to influence some outcomes, especially when we team up with God. And that’s where the trust factor comes into play. But it’s a bigger struggle for some to come to that realization than for others.”
“And you think I’m one of those?”
“It’s clear you don’t like it when your hands are pried off the wheel and someone else is steering.”
She must have wiretapped that last phone call.
“So I can’t help but wonder,” she continued, “why you’re still here, Denny, now that you have a contractor lined up. It’s obvious Hunter Ridge is the last place on earth you want to be.”
“I’m assisting my mother because I love her, and this project brings her pleasure.” And her husband’s being a jerk to hold my career hostage. “It so happens that right now, keeping up with things on two fronts is taking extra time and effort. But I’ve juggled my share of conflicting deadlines in the past. It will work out.”
And it would, if Vic didn’t sabotage everything Denny had worked hard for. “You said Todd’s here?”
“And a couple of movers with a big truck.”
“With your few guests now situated elsewhere—Viola said they seemed quite pleased with their alternate accommodations—I told the movers we’d temporarily transfer everything, except Viola’s apartment, which will come later, to a storage facility here in town. I doubt there’s much we’ll keep, but it will be out of the way until we decide how to dispose of it.”
“A secondhand store, maybe. Or Goodwill. But I do like the daylight coming in with the window treatments gone.”
He’d hired a few high-school kids—his cousin Luke’s son and daughter and their friends—who came in after school the previous day to strip the beds, take down the drapes and pictures, roll up rugs, and box knickknacks and other miscellaneous items.
“Todd’s extended crew placed the orders for a new furnace, water heaters, appliances and cabinetry. Then we can make selections on the decorating side while Todd and company move on the structural changes.”
Not that he didn’t think her capable of doing that, but he didn’t want to see her lavish, ultrafeminine designs slipping in there when he wasn’t looking. And could he help it if he enjoyed her company?
Lillian cut him an anxious look as they headed back to the inn. “It’s six weeks until Barbie’s wedding. That hit me hard when I woke up this morning. Do you think a project of this magnitude can be done by then?”
With a GylesStyle team, no doubt about it. But he had no idea with Todd Samuels. There were many unknowns, despite tapping into a few of the usual suppliers he’d worked with in the past. As much as he joked about it, this wasn’t a reality TV program where you could manipulate the end result with tape splices and scene retakes.
Kicking down a wall was just the beginning.
“I can’t make promises. Stuff happens. But we aren’t trying to pull off anything fancy like on TV. We’re sticking to the basics—general repairs, new insulation, electrical and plumbing upgrades. Those take time, but we’ll give it all we’ve got.”
He still didn’t fully understand why keeping this Barbie Gray’s wedding at the inn was so all-fired important. But then, he didn’t know much about the ins and outs of small-town goings-on. He’d always heard little communities were microcosms of the larger world around them, but intensely more personal. He didn’t know his next-door neighbors in the condo high-rise where he lived and couldn’t imagine them taking a personal interest in his business, let alone influencing it.
He shuddered at the thought.
After walking Lillian to the back door of the inn, he held it open for her. “Hey, guess who I saw this morning. Chicken Man.”
“Oh...really?”
“Yeah, shooting baskets with a couple of other teens outside the school. Seemed normal enough. In fact, I saw him last evening, too, when I stopped off at the hardware store. He was chatting with the checkout clerk.”
“His father owns the store, and he works there part-time stocking shelves.”
“I find it intriguing, though.” Denny playfully tapped Lillian’s arm. “Seems it’s only when I’m with you that he puts on an Oscar-winning performance.”
She placed her hand to her heart. “I can’t tell you how special that makes me feel.”
“Maybe you bring out the best in him.” He chuckled as he followed her inside. Then, even though he hadn’t felt his phone vibrate, he surreptitiously checked his messages.
Nothing from Craig.
* * *
Although Denny didn’t seem to be getting as many business call interruptions as he had the first week he arrived, he seemed to be more on edge today than any day previously. Lillian had hoped, having seen him interacting with his family on Labor Day, that being away from the city was having a mellowing effect. If so, it hadn’t lasted long.
From the apartment kitchen table, where, after work, she’d placed her laptop to do online searches, she glanced over at Taylor, who’d flopped on the floor in front of the TV. She had the closed captioning on and sound turned off so she wouldn’t bother Aunt Viola, who was in her room reviewing favorite recipes and brainstorming new breakfast menus for the inn’s reopening. “What are you watching?”
“That bride dress show.”
Again? Lillian shook her head as she scrolled down on the laptop to find a perfect match to the bedspread in Denny’s sketches.
“Do you like this one, Aunt Lillian?” Taylor pointed to the screen.
She leaned over in her chair to see better. “It’s pretty on her, but too poufy for me.”
“What did your wedding dress look like? I don’t remember it.”
As much as she’d like to think that day had been overlooked by Taylor, who’d arrived a few days beforehand, that would be too much to hope for.
“It was white. Lacy. With a veil.” She’d found it at a shop in Canyon Springs.
“Where is it now?”
“I sold it, so I don’t have it anymore.”
“I wish you’d have kept it.” Taylor grabbed the remote and flipped off the TV, then plopped down in a chair next to Lillian. Propping her elbows on the table and her face in her hands, she sighed. “How come you didn’t marry that guy?”
Keep it simple. Kids want simple.
“I prayed about it and realized he wasn’t the man God wanted me to marry.”
There, that was easy.
Taylor thought for a moment. “How come you didn’t pray about it until your wedding day?”
“I did, but...maybe I wasn’t listening for His answer.”
“My mom’s never been married, either.”
“No, she hasn’t.”
Taylor slipped from her chair and moved to the window looking out on the sunset-illuminated garden. “She has lots of boyfriends, though. Do you have boyfriends, Aunt Lillian?”
“Not at the moment.”
Her niece looked back over her shoulder. “Do you want one?”
“Maybe someday.”
“Why not now?”
“Because...this time I’m trying hard to listen for God’s answer.”
Taylor nodded her understanding. “So you don’t have to sell any more wedding dresses.”
“Exactly.” She didn’t want to give her niece the impression that not marrying her fiancé was shameful, but a word of caution was in order, especially since Taylor and Denny seemed to be becoming thick. “Sweetie, please don’t discuss my almost-wedding with anyone else. It’s between you and me. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“So how’s it coming out here?” Aunt Viola stepped out of her room. “Getting your shopping done?”
“I’m bookmarking items I think fit our concept, then will get Denny’s input to ensure I’m on track and within budget.”
“He should turn the whole thing over to you and focus his attention elsewhere.”
“He keeps his finger in the pie on most things.” That controlling trait again. She tried not to take it personally, but if he had so much to do here and at his real job, why not divvy up more responsibilities? Delegate the decision-making?
“I guess we’ll be seeing a lot of Todd from now on?” Her aunt sounded hopeful.
“Probably so.” Lillian kept her tone light. Neutral. And her eyes on the computer screen.
“You should fix him one of those slow-cooked, melt-in-your-mouth Italian beef sandwiches you have such a knack with. You know what they say. The way to a man’s heart is—”
“Let’s not go there.” She gave her aunt a warning look, aware that Taylor was still at the window, all ears. But just then the little girl spun toward her.
“Mister’s in the garden. Can I go out, too?”
She should say no. Discourage further bonding between the pair, but at the hopeful gleam in her niece’s eyes, she didn’t have the heart to deny the request.
“That’s fine. But come in when it gets dark. And if Denny’s working, don’t bother him, okay?”
“I won’t.” Then she hit the door running.
Aunt Vi pulled up a chair at the table. “She thinks a lot of Denny.”
She didn’t need her aunt getting on her case about that. “I’ve already spoken to him.”
“About what?”
“About being careful of letting her get too attached. He won’t be staying long, and I don’t want her to get her heart broken.”
“Or your heart broken.”
Lillian stiffened as the awkward encounter in the Hideaway’s parking lot flashed through her mind for the millionth time. Although she enjoyed Denny’s company, that was an embarrassing fluke. Nothing was going on between them.
“Yes, if he hurts her that will certainly hurt me, too.”
“You know that’s not what I meant. You like him. Which is why you’re not giving Todd the time of day, isn’t it?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Denny’s likable, don’t you think? Responsible. Good with kids. Good-looking, too. If I were fifty years younger, I’d give you a run for your money.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, he’s way too much like Cameron.”
“He’s nothing like Cameron. Where did you get that idea?”
“He’s wed to his cell phone and can’t wait to get back to the big city.”
Aunt Vi scoffed. “He’s a man who doesn’t know any better because he hasn’t yet seen any better. But I think Hunter Ridge is starting to grow on him. As are you, if I’m not mistaken. He has a contractor to oversee things now, but he’s not making any more noises about leaving as I’d expected he would. Something is keeping him here.”
“I don’t know where you get that idea.” Lillian clicked the mouse to select another page on the screen. “Besides, it’s too soon after that fiasco with Cameron for me to consider another relationship. Three months ago I was set to pledge my life to someone I thought God had picked out. I no longer trust my own judgment when it comes to men, except to recognize what’s certain to be a no-win situation if I were to involve myself with another city-minded man.”
“I thought you enjoyed that trip you and one of your gal friends took to San Francisco a few years ago. You couldn’t stop talking about the city—the shopping, the seals on the docks, the harbor cruises and those clam-chowder bread bowls.”
“A week there is not the same as living there.”
“You liked Boston when you visited there, too.” Aunt Viola’s eyes narrowed. “Be honest with me, Lillian. If Taylor and I had been out of the picture when Cameron came along, when he jumped at that job offer in Beantown would you have married him? Or left him at the altar because you loathed leaving Hunter Ridge?”
How many times had she asked herself that very question? “Honestly? I don’t know. But I’m thankful I didn’t marry him. I think that at the time Cameron came into my life last February, I was acutely conscious that my next birthday would be my thirtieth. My biological clock was ticking loudly, and then there he was. An answered prayer.”
“Or not.”
“Or not.” Lillian got up and moved to the window to brush back the curtain and look out on Denny having an animated conversation with her niece. Definitely storybook worthy, with those broad shoulders and a generous smile as he gave his full attention to Taylor.
At that moment, though, he glanced toward the window and saw her standing there. Waved. Taylor turned and waved, too. Lillian smiled and lifted her own hand. Then let the curtain fall back.
“So you can see,” she ended lamely as she returned to her laptop, “why I can no longer trust my own judgment.”
“You say that, but—” Her aunt rose and moved to the kitchen, then looked thoughtfully at Lillian. “I’m wondering if it’s not only your heart you’re not trusting, but God, as well.”
* * *
“Fancy meeting you here.”
Seeing Lillian was just the thing he needed after talking to Craig, who’d insisted Denny not get in the middle of his dispute with Vic. He was going straight to Elden and wanted to handle it himself.
Yet while her presence was welcome, Lillian was the last person Denny expected to run into at the hardware store over the lunch hour. They’d hardly seen each other in the past week, having taken to texting as a means of communication. She looked taken aback to see him, as well.
“Are we here for the same thing?” She held up a handful of interior paint samples. Sand, Navajo white, pale parchment. “I was about to text you to see if you agreed a warm white would be better than a cool one. I’ve looked online, but sometimes the colors aren’t true. They can vary from computer to computer.”
“I’m going with warm, too.” He held up a dozen samplings of wood stains he’d picked up when he first hit the store—weathered oak, golden pecan—then got distracted by lighting fixtures. “We should probably make our selections together to make certain we have a match.”
“Once we’ve narrowed them down, we can get a small can of each and paint a big swatch on a wall and stain a board to see how we like them side by side.”
“You saw that on one of those do-it-yourself shows, didn’t you?” he teased as he handed her the wood stain samples. “Or is that something all pretty small-town girls are born knowing?”
“Very funny. But hey, if it works, why not go for it? You can’t tell much with these tiny samples.”
“That’s for sure.”
“What do you have there?” She pointed at two folding display boards he gripped in his other hand.
“Flooring samples. I was told I could take these with me if I brought them back tomorrow.”
“Hardwood flooring in the entry, parlor, library, office, dining room and bedrooms. Tile in the kitchen, laundry, storage rooms and breakfast nook, right?”
“Good memory.”
Together they walked to the front of the store, out the exit and onto the sidewalk. He drew to a halt, not willing to scale their communication back to texting just yet. It was a blue-skied autumn day, the scent of sun-warmed pine filling his senses, and Lillian was looking lovely in an emerald turtleneck sweater and skirt.
“Our paths,” he ventured, “haven’t crossed much lately. You must be keeping busy.”
“The library, mostly. And when I’m not buried on the job, I’m trying to keep out from underfoot of Todd and his crew as much as possible. Taylor isn’t making a bother of herself when I’m not there, is she? Aunt Vi’s oversight can be lax at times, and there are several hours between when my niece gets home from school and I get away from work.”
“She’s been no problem at all. I let her help me kick through a wall upstairs between those two bedrooms we’re converting to a single.” He squinted one eye. “But don’t tell me you’re a helicopter mom.”
“I’m not a mom at all.”
“Maybe not by birth, but Taylor looks to you in that role. I’ve noticed she’s minding you better now than she did a few weeks ago, just as you thought would happen once the immediacy of her mother’s visit faded.”
“It’s always an adjustment for both of us when her mother pops in or drops her off. Annalise isn’t much of a disciplinarian. No set bedtimes. No staying on top of homework. Too much TV and junk food. I get to be the bad guy each time my sister takes off with her and then drops her off again.”
“Taylor doesn’t consider you a bad guy at all. Far from it. In fact, she’s always telling me how wonderful you are. Smart. Pretty. A great cook. How much fun you are.”
He could be mistaken, but he was beginning to suspect the cute grade-schooler was trying to set him up with her aunt. Who, incidentally, didn’t seem to find him of particular interest.
It was a blow to the old ego.
Lillian laughed. “Laying it on thick, is she? Her birthday is coming up—I wonder what she’s setting me up to ask for.”
“A birthday, huh? I’ll keep that in mind and will take everything she tells me with a grain of salt. How old? Seven? Eight?”
“Eight.”
“From what I’ve seen, you’re doing a great job with her.”
“Thanks.” She took a step back. “I’m afraid I need to get back to the library. It was good seeing you.”
“You, too.” But when she moved off in the direction of the library, preferring to walk as usual, he couldn’t help but call after her. “Should we get together tonight?”
She halted and looked in his direction, a cautious curiosity lighting her eyes.
“I mean to narrow down the colors—with your aunt, too, of course.”
“Daylight would be better for that, don’t you think?”
“Noon tomorrow, then? I can pick up sandwiches and we can make it a working lunch out in the garden.”
She hesitated for the briefest moment, then nodded. “Okay, sure. I’ll see you then.”
For whatever reason, Denny whistled a merry tune on the way to his car, not in all that much of a hurry at the moment to get himself out of Hunter Ridge.