by Rae Davies
She shrugged off a reply and crossed her legs, bouncing her foot so the tiny shells on her shoes tinkled together.
“What’s with the shells?”
Patsy stroked a pink-lined shell. “I like the ocean.”
Glenn twirled a chunk of steak through a puddle of gravy. “Really? You go there much?”
Patsy bit her lower lip. “No, I’ve never actually seen it. I just like it.”
“You should go. You’re not that far from the Gulf.”
Patsy arranged the shells into straight lines pointing down to her toes. “I guess, but what I’d really like to see is the Barrier Reef.”
“You never know. Get this web job and maybe you can.”
Patsy laughed. “I don’t think even a full-time web job is going to pay enough for me to fly to Australia.”
“You could work there. Sunrise has major operations in Australia. They ship people back and forth all the time. A buddy of mine just got back.” He ran his fork over the surface of his plate, the metal scraping loudly against the china.
See, maybe even work and live in Australia? The possibility had never occurred to Patsy. Surely Glenn was wrong. She couldn’t get a job there, could she?
After lunch, they conducted a few “man on the street” interviews. Overall, the attitude toward the mines was positive, but they did encounter a few people with anti-mine sentiments.
Patsy chatted with one woman about her experience with the mines in Blackhaw and how they ruined the land surrounding her grandfather’s farm. How they’d believed the mines would be their salvation when they came into the area in the forties, but how it hadn’t changed anything except the land and that in a negative way. The woman was working with a group resisting Sunrise’s move into the forest around Sauk City. Patsy took down her name and wished her luck.
“What did you mean, good luck?” Glenn questioned Patsy.
“Huh? Oh, it’s just an expression. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“We’re here to get positive comments for the site, remember? I don’t know what good talking to people who hate the mines is going to do.”
“If you don’t know what people object to, you can’t address it.” Patsy shoved her pen back into the wire ring that held her notebook together.
Glenn watched her with a confused expression. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“What do you mean?” Patsy asked.
“I don’t know, Patsy. I just get the feeling your heart isn’t in this. I think you may agree with that woman more than you’re admitting.”
Okay, so maybe Patsy did agree with the woman. Maybe she did think the mines were bad; not pure evil like she thought as a child, but still a payoff that wasn’t worth the final price tag. That didn’t mean she couldn’t do this job. The mines were moving into Sauk City with or without Patsy’s approval, and that woman and her group could fight all they wanted, but they wouldn’t stop them either.
With that as the foregone conclusion, why shouldn’t Patsy at least benefit some? She might not like the mines, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t use them for her own needs, right?
Chapter 13
Up to his elbows in green goo, Will heard the rusty 4 x 4 rattle up before he saw it. Tilde peered down at him through a dirty windshield.
Great. She probably had another project for him. Will stabbed at the washstand with a metal scraper. He’d poured four gallons of paint stripper on the thing, to no avail. Well, it might have removed the bird poop. Hard to tell in that mess. Peeling off his rubber gloves, he pasted a smile on his face and turned to greet Patsy’s aunt.
“What you doing there, kid?” Tilde walked past him to survey the washstand. “You aren’t using that, are you?” She gestured to an empty container of the “environmentally friendly” paint remover he’d found at BiggeeMart.
“You’d do better trying to charm the paint off that stand.” Flashing him a wink, she added, “But then, you probably got a bit of experience charming things off, don’t you?” She chuckled.
Will didn’t join her.
“Now seriously, kid, you need to get yourself some of that heavy-duty stripper. That paint’s been on there a good long time. It ain’t letting loose easy.”
Will looked at the green blob. He was tempted. “Aren’t those chemicals dangerous?”
“I’ve been using them for years, and I’m fine and dandy.”
Will looked from Tilde’s proud grin to the eyesore in his garage. Maybe it was worth killing a few brain cells. “I’ll think about it.”
“You do that. Now come on back here. I’ve got a couple things for you.” She looped her arm through his and led him to the back of the truck.
Twenty minutes later, he’d unloaded an oak sideboard with the north wind carved into the top, and a portrait of Joseph Barnett, the man who built Will’s house. The picture was a little unsettling, but Tilde insisted, and Will hung it in the small formal parlor. He hadn’t found a real use for that space yet. If he did, he’d have to find a new home for the portrait. There was no way he could live with Mr. Barnett peering down his long nose at him all day.
“It looks great. Adds a real touch of authenticity to the place.” Tilde tilted her head while she straightened the gilded frame. “I got a line on a horsehair loveseat too. I don’t think it’s got a connection to the Barnetts, but it would look fine pushed up against this wall here.” She pointed to a space between two windows. “Be a cozy place for doing a little spooning.” She cackled and elbowed him in the ribs.
Will wasn’t one hundred percent sure what spooning was, but he doubted seriously he’d be doing it or anything else with Mr. Barnett standing guard. He did need to furnish the room somehow, though. “Sure, if you think it fits.”
“Good enough.” Tilde walked off the space between the windows. “Yeah, it should fit. I’ll bring it by tomorrow. Well, I guess I’ll be heading out. Need to stop by Mom’s before I leave town.”
She was going by Patsy’s? “Any special occasion?” he asked casually.
“No, that niece of mine went out of town today for some reason.” Tilde picked up her purse, a gruesome creation that looked like it was made out of an armadillo. “Mom’s not expecting her back till late. I thought I’d check in on Mom, make sure everything’s took care of.”
“What was Patsy going out of town for? Something to do with her web job?”
Tilde gave him a sideways look. “I don’t rightly know, but Mom said some big, good-lookin’ feller in a snazzy red sports car picked her up after breakfast and then tore down the street like the four Horsemen of the Apocalypse were chasin’ ‘em.” Tilde stopped in front of the hall tree and checked her lipstick in the mirror. “You know anybody fitting that description?”
Will didn’t, but he didn’t like the sound of Patsy riding around with some wild driver, especially on the crooked roads that surrounded Daisy Creek. He thought she was more responsible than that. Someone should probably discuss it with her.
“Well, I surely do appreciate your business, kid. You let me know if I can do anything else for you.”
Anything else she could do for him? Glancing out his recently repaired window, Will recalled the disaster awaiting him in the garage. He hadn’t been having too much luck doing things on his own. Maybe it was time to enlist some aid.
Picking up Dwayne’s tiny wooden raccoon, he said, “Actually, Tilde, there is something you can do for me. Let’s have some coffee and talk.”
o0o
“Thanks for dropping off my car yesterday morning. When’d you come by? I didn’t expect to see it out there when I got up. I don’t think Momma even noticed it was missing.”
With the portable phone in her hand, Patsy stepped out onto the back porch so she could hear Ruthann over the din of the TV.
“It was early. I went down to Sauk City with Glenn. Remember, for the website?” Patsy brushed dew off the padded seat of a redwood chair and sat down. “He followed me over.”
“Oh.”
Obviously, Ruthann wasn’t interested in Patsy’s day. Which was fine, because Patsy didn’t feel much like discussing it either.
“So, what’d you do yesterday?” Patsy asked.
“Not much. To tell the truth, I wasn’t feeling too hot. I didn’t get up until noon.”
Maybe that would teach her to not mix vodka with diet pills.
“Oh, but I got a surprise.” Ruthann sounded perkier. “I got flowers and the cutest little teddy bear. That’s what woke me up: the delivery van.”
“From Randy?”
“I wish.” Ruthann huffed. “He hasn’t called me for nothing.”
“So, who sent the flowers?” Patsy prompted.
“Will, and there was the sweetest little note saying how he hoped I felt better.” Ruthann sighed. “I don’t know why you aren’t nicer to him. He’s about as close to perfect as you’re gonna get around here. Sure beats a certain coon-hunting four-wheeler I know.”
“What kind of flowers were they?” Patsy didn’t know why it mattered, but she wanted to know. “Were they daisies?”
“Hmm? No, pink carnations and, like I said, a cute little teddy bear holding onto them.”
The knot that had formed in Patsy’s stomach relaxed. Carnations, that was good. Nice, but not too special. Not romantic like roses or personal like daisies. For some reason, Patsy couldn’t stand the thought of Will sending Ruthann daisies.
She and Ruthann made plans to meet that night at Patsy’s. Granny was getting her hair done, then going to dinner with Patsy’s parents. Patsy had begged off, claiming she needed to check on Ruthann.
“I’ll pick up a pizza from the Hut. See you around seven.” Ruthann hung up.
As Patsy stood to return the phone to its cradle, it rang in her hand. Without thinking, she answered. The timbre of Will’s voice echoing from the handset sent a reverberating tingle up her spine.
“Heard you took a trip out of town yesterday.”
Yet another problem with living in a small town; you had less privacy than Brad Pitt at a public shower. “What, was it posted on the First National Bank’s sign?”
Will chuckled. “No, at least not that I noticed. I had some business with your aunt yesterday. She mentioned it.”
Will had been meeting with Tilde? That didn’t sound good.
“So, where did you go?” he asked.
If Patsy didn’t feel like sharing with Ruthann, she sure didn’t feel like sharing with Will. “What business did you have with Tilde?” she countered.
“She said you left in a sports car. Anybody I know?”
Why was he snooping around after her? Well, he had to show his first. She wasn’t giving in. “Tilde stopped by while I was gone, but Granny didn’t mention her talking with you.”
There was silence on the other end of the line, then a sigh and, “Actually, I was hoping I could talk to you about some things related to what Tilde’s helping me with. Get your opinion. Could you stop by the house today?”
“You need my opinion?”
“How about lunch? I make a mean Gardenburger.”
Mmm. Didn’t that sound tempting? But Patsy was curious about what Will and Tilde could be working on. “How about I swing through Sonic? You like Coney dogs?”
o0o
Patsy pulled up to Will’s and climbed out, holding a dripping bag filled with onion rings and a Coney dog for herself and a grilled chicken sandwich for Will. He had balked at her buying lunch, but she refused to eat a sprout patty. In her opinion, there were scarier things than hardened arteries and mad cow disease. A faux burger was one of them.
Will grabbed the bag at the door and ushered her inside. He was again dressed in shorts and a polo shirt, but his feet were bare. There was something strangely erotic about him meeting her with bare feet, almost more intimate than seeing him without his shirt. Maybe it was the casualness of it, like they were past pretenses. Whatever the reason, Patsy had a hard time not staring at his naked toes.
Feeling completely idiotic, Patsy glanced around the room. An ornate hall tree sat by the front entry. Through an open door, she could see a marble-topped table and a picture of an austere gentleman. “You’re furnishing this place fast.” Skirting the marble, she walked toward the picture. “Relative of yours?”
“No, he’s the venerable Joseph Barnett, builder of this fine establishment.”
“For a rich guy, he doesn’t look too chipper, does he?” Patsy spun around, facing Will.
“Someone told me money doesn’t equal emotion.”
“A wise woman, I’m sure.” Patsy grinned.
“Wiser than me...” Will stared at the portrait. “...Or my father.”
Patsy wasn’t sure how to respond. Will just stood there, staring at the portrait, a hollow look in his eyes. She edged around him and retrieved her greasy bag. “You ready to eat?”
Snapping his gaze away from the picture, he followed her into the kitchen. Signs of recent renovation still cluttered the room.
She stepped over an empty box. “Where do you want to eat?”
Will gestured to a small table shoved into a nook. His face had relaxed, but Patsy still got the feeling he was studying her. She pulled out their food.
“I got you chicken.”
He didn’t reply.
“What? Why are you staring at me?”
“I’m not.” He took a bite of his sandwich.
Patsy knew when someone was staring at her, but she wasn’t going to argue. Lately she’d felt a lot less like fighting, about anything.
“So, what’s the project Tilde’s working on?”
An enigmatic look passed over his face. “It’s not important.”
Patsy frowned at him over her Coney dog. Sure, it was important. She wanted to know. “I thought that’s why you asked me over here, for my opinion on something.”
o0o
“It was.”
Will no longer wanted to discuss his latest project. Before, it had seemed natural; it involved her family, the Ozarks, and the web. Who better than Patsy to give him an opinion? But the reminder of her comment on money and emotion set him back. Sudden insight had flooded over him.
He was just like his father, trying to replace real feelings with money. It was a disturbing discovery, not leaving room for chitchat about web pages and Ozark crafts. As the shock of the realization wore off, a new, warmer emotion replaced it.
Patsy took another giant bite of hot dog; a dab of mustard clung to her pursed lips. A pampered lady she wasn’t. Cindy would never eat anything so indelicate as a hot dog, and she certainly wouldn’t wolf it down with such enthusiasm. Will smiled to himself.
Noticing his perusal, Patsy gave him an uneasy look. He took her lunch from her hands and set it on the table. With a paper napkin from the bag, he slowly rubbed the mustard off the sides of her mouth.
Turning her head, Patsy took a loud slurp of limeade.
“Well, then I might as well be going.” She popped up from her chair and grabbed the trash, including her half-eaten hot dog. Shoving it into a garbage can, she said, “Looks like things are going good with the remodeling. Maybe I’ll see you around.”
“Wait.” Will didn’t want her to go. “We never finished the tour.”
“Oh, that’s okay. Maybe some other time.” She edged toward the front door, stopping next to Ralph, who lay across the threshold between the kitchen and dining room.
“No, I insist.” He patted his leg, bringing Ralph to a sit. “You said you wanted to see the house. Let me show you.” He tossed his dog a treat and watched him trot with it to the pantry. “Let’s go.”
Will strode into the dining room.
o0o
Patsy looked at the back door. She could sneak out. It would be incredibly rude, but there was something brewing in Will’s eyes that she didn’t trust. Or maybe it was the tightening of her stomach and the shaking of her hands she didn’t trust. Either way it would be in her best interest to leave—fast.
“Are you coming
?” Will called from the foyer.
With a sigh, Patsy followed his voice. She could handle this. So she found him attractive. She was a red-blooded woman of the new millennium. She was supposed to find well-toned, good-looking men attractive, but she wasn’t ruled by her hormones. She wasn’t. She could do this.
Will was standing on the landing halfway up the stairs when she arrived. Her gaze drifted to the tips of his bare toes.
“You’ve already seen the downstairs, so I thought I’d show you the second floor.” He motioned toward the landing above them.
Sure, why not? She’d like to see the second floor.
“There’s a library...”
See, a library, how bad could that be?
“...And four bedrooms.”
Uh oh.
“I took the master suite.”
“What’s in here?” Patsy flung open the door to a closet. “Great storage space. You don’t expect that in a house this old, do you?” She ran her hand down the stacks of sheets and towels as she babbled.
“No, when the house was built, most people used chests and chifforobes. Tilde found one for me a few days ago. Lucky for me, it’s in great shape.” He reached in past her, his arm brushing her back. Patsy shivered in response. “No need for any refinishing. Do you want to see it?” he continued.
“Sure.” Why not? Looking at an antique cupboard couldn’t be too dangerous, certainly safer than being tucked inside a closet with him. Bless Tilde.
“It’s down here.” Will led her in the direction he’d pointed earlier when mentioning the master suite.
“Oh, in your room?” Damn Tilde. “I don’t want to intrude.”
“I wouldn’t show you if it were an intrusion.” Gripping her elbow, he pushed open the door and steered her inside. With each step, an emotion dangerously close to panic crept over her.
The room was bare except for the big, boxy armoire Will stood in front of, a couple of night tables, and the bed. A bed that seemed to grow in size as she looked at it.
