“Hard to say.” Anthony pinched his chin between his thumb and finger, his forehead puckering. “If it’s only one building and only one corner, we can probably have the floor back in place in no more’n a couple weeks. But if it’s in more than one building or in several places, then…”
He didn’t need to finish his sentence. Brooke knew how to read the writing on the wall. She gritted her teeth. “Work as quick as you can, huh? There’s a lot riding on this.”
26
Brooke
Brooke climbed behind the steering wheel of her Lexus and set off for the hospital. Today she’d have her chemo port installed. According to the paperwork Dr. Dickerson had given her, getting the port was pretty simple. Especially compared to the intensive surgery he’d performed on her three weeks ago. But they’d give her mild sedation for the procedure, and it wasn’t smart to get behind the wheel of a car when fighting off the effects of any kind of anesthesia, so Marty was along to drive Brooke back to Spalding afterward.
As much as she disliked the idea of having a line inserted in her vein, the procedure had given Brooke a reprieve. The investors had agreed to postpone their first visit. If she had any luck at all, Anthony and his men would have all the areas where they’d discovered dry rot torn out and new materials in place for the important visit. He’d talked her into using iron joists instead of wood. Initially she’d balked—iron cost a lot more than wood, but she’d decided the extra expense was worth it. Iron wouldn’t rot. How could a person put a price on security?
She glanced at Marty, who sat in the passenger’s seat with a scowl on her face and her arms folded. Brooke fought a grin. What a sourpuss. All because Marty was opposed to using Brooke’s “fancy” car instead of Nate and Charlotte’s older-model Buick. But Brooke wasn’t going to give up the chance to drive, and she certainly wasn’t going to use someone else’s car when she had a perfectly good vehicle of her own. Charlotte would need the Buick to make the biweekly grocery store run, and if the Lexus sat for a year, all kinds of things could go wrong in the engine and with the tires. So Marty needed to buck up and deal.
Brooke stayed quiet and let Marty stew until they’d driven through Lansing, but the silence in the car—she left her radio off in deference to her friend—proved too unsettling to ignore any longer. She released the steering wheel long enough to deliver a light bop on Marty’s arm.
“Leapin’ lizards, are you going to pout the whole way to Kansas City?”
Marty aimed the scowl at Brooke. “I’m not pouting.”
Brooke snorted. “Pull down the sun visor and take a look at yourself in the mirror. That’s a pouty face if I ever saw one.”
Marty sighed, and her face relaxed. She dropped her hands to her lap. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t really pouting. I was…thinking.”
“About how to keep from having to drive my Lexus?” Brooke grinned. “Too late. If we want to get home again, you’ll have to drive.”
“I know, I know.”
Marty fell silent again, and the only sound filling the car was the whine of tires on the highway. Brooke waited a few minutes, but when Marty didn’t say anything more, she reached for the radio knob.
“Can you believe it’s been a month?”
Brooke jolted. “What?”
Marty shifted slightly in the seat. “A month. Since Anthony and me left Indiana and came to Kansas.”
Brooke had flipped the calendar to August that morning. “Hmm, I guess you’re right. You left on the first of July, and here we are starting August.” She paused, uncertain if she wanted an honest answer, but curious. “Do you regret it?”
“Of course not.” Marty’s adamancy made Brooke smile. “It was meant to be. Truly. The missionaries from China have the use of our house and my car, I’m here to help take care of you, Anthony’s business is flourishing in two different states, and—” She clamped her mouth closed.
Brooke’s curiosity rose another notch. “And…” She could have sworn Marty looked guilty.
Marty fiddled with a ribbon hanging from her cap. “And God answered a prayer.”
Brooke chuckled. “I didn’t realize that was big news. At least not for you.” When Marty didn’t laugh or even smile, the curiosity whisked away on a breeze of concern. “What’s going on with you, Marty?”
“Nothing important.” She pasted on a too-bright smile. “So tell me what all will be available at your resort when it’s done?”
Brooke wasn’t fooled. Something troubled Marty, and she suspected it had to do with her being childless. Brooke was still coming to grips with her own mixed emotions concerning the hysterectomy and what it meant, and she had no desire to open that topic. She set the cruise control and adjusted the seat’s angle a bit to relieve the slight catch in her incision. “Available at my resort…Well, of course there’ll be a top-notch restaurant. Think grilled steaks and chicken, seafood, pasta—a well-rounded menu to appeal to all different tastes. The two-story rock building that was originally a saloon and later a hardware store will be perfect for the restaurant. Way back when, the upstairs was a hotel, and I want it to retain its original use. I plan to furnish each of the rooms with antiques and claw-foot tubs. Kind of a step-back-in-time setup while being comparable to a high-class B and B.”
“Sounds nice.”
Brooke nodded. “Oh, it will be.” She shifted her focus to another limestone building. “In the former mercantile, on the front half there’ll be an ice cream and sweets shop with a soda fountain. Can you believe I located a complete 1940s soda bar at an architectural salvage warehouse? It’s massive, with cut glass in the cabinet doors and brass accents and four attached electric sconces. I fell in love with it and bought it on the spot. It’s waiting in storage. I want maybe a dozen different, exotic ice cream flavors—like lemon lavender, coconut curry, and blackberry champagne.”
Marty wrinkled her nose, and Brooke laughed. “If you don’t want ice cream, then you can pick from a variety of cupcakes, brownies, and fudge, all made fresh daily. The back half will be the resort’s gift shop with the requisite T-shirts, mugs, magnets. You know, touristy stuff.”
Marty released a self-conscious laugh. “I don’t know much about touristy stuff. Our trips have been to visit my folks or brothers near Newton. Anthony and I haven’t ever taken a real vacation anywhere.”
Brooke gawked at her. “You’re kidding!” She shook her head. “Well, when the whole place is done and open for business, you and Anthony will have to come back as guests. All at my expense, of course.”
Marty grinned. “So…a restaurant, a sweets shop, and what else?”
Brooke drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, eagerness buzzing through her like an electrical current. “I want to make the whole west side of the main street a row of specialty shops for local vendors to lease and peddle their own wares. Mostly high-end stuff. I envision a jewelry store, some kind of art or pottery gallery, maybe something funky like a print-your-own-T-shirt shop where visitors could get creative. A local winery has already asked to lease half a space when I’m finally open, and I hope one of the Kansas cheese makers will fill the other half. That would be such a perfect pairing. But if not cheese, then maybe locally made honey or jelly.”
The car in front of her was going at least five miles under the speed limit, forcing her to slow down. Brooke checked her rearview mirror, allowed two fast-moving cars to pass her, and then eased around it. When she pulled back into the right-hand lane, she reset the cruise and flashed a smile at Marty. “The original church for Eagle Creek is still standing. Probably because it was built out of limestone. Someone stole all the stained-glass windows so the inside’s a mess, but I’m going to have it restored and turn it into a wedding chapel. Great idea, huh?”
Marty tapped the air, as if counting invisible somethings. “There’s still one more building on the east side of the main street. The one t
hat has Eagle Creek Bank and Trust carved at the top. What’s going in there?”
“Ah, yes.” Brooke sighed. “That will be the pièce de résistance, the main reason people will flock to my resort. The old bank building will become a brand-new two-level casino.” She waggled her brows. “Like that old Kevin Costner movie says, if I build it, they will come.”
Dismay sagged Marty’s features. “A casino? Where people will gamble?”
Brooke laughed. “Of course where people will gamble. Casinos are great moneymakers. As soon as I said the word casino in my planning meeting, investors were scrambling for the chance to be part of the project.”
Marty continued to gaze at Brooke with sorrow.
“What’s the matter? I mean, obviously you and Anthony don’t gamble. I’m sure gambling’s listed as a no-no in your church rule book.” She hadn’t intended to inject sarcasm, but it emerged anyway. She grimaced. “I didn’t mean that as an insult. You’re good people, and I admire you for your stance. You know that. But from a business standpoint, opening a casino is one of the smartest moves I’ve ever made.”
Marty turned her face to the passenger’s window. In the side-view mirror, Brooke glimpsed her biting her lower lip. She nudged her again.
“Tell me what you’re thinking.”
Very slowly, Marty angled her head until she met Brooke’s gaze. “If Anthony had known you were building a gambling resort, he wouldn’t have come. He wouldn’t want to be part of something that cheats people out of their money.”
If Marty had used an accusatory tone, Brooke would have bristled. But she only sounded sad and disappointed, which pierced Brooke. “It wasn’t meant to be a big secret. I hope you know I didn’t trick you into coming.”
A sorry excuse for a smile tipped up the corners of Marty’s lips. “I know. You come from a different world than us. It probably didn’t occur to you that we would…object.”
No, it hadn’t. But it should have. She knew how strictly Marty and Anthony practiced their religion. If Anthony packed up his team and returned to Indiana, she could find another construction team to finish the work on the old buildings. It would mean yet another delay, which she’d like to avoid, but she’d find a new team. But if they left now, her friend would go right back to where she’d been for the past two years with her husband—living together physically and apart emotionally. And Brooke would face this cancer battle alone. What would she do then?
She curled her fingers around the steering wheel and squeezed. “Leapin’ lizards…”
27
Marty
The entire drive from the hospital to Eagle Creek, while Brooke dozed in the passenger’s seat, Marty debated with herself about whether or not to tell Anthony about Brooke’s plan to make Spalding a gambling resort. Eventually Brooke would end up saying something about slot machines or blackjack, so he would find out at some point. When that moment came, he’d immediately ask her if she’d known. She wouldn’t be able to lie, and he’d be upset with her—rightfully so—for keeping it a secret. But if she told him right away, would he pack up and leave? Brooke didn’t need the stress of finding a new construction team when she would start chemotherapy in only one more week.
If Great-Grandma Lois were here, she’d tell Marty to pray. Her great-grandmother had taken every care, question, and heartache to the Lord. How many times had Marty knelt beside her and listened to her quavering yet strong voice address the One she trusted? The desire to pray and seek God’s guidance pulled hard at Marty’s heart. The habits formed in childhood and the faith she cherished into adulthood still lay dormant inside her, and it took every bit of self-restraint she possessed to keep from turning her concern into a prayer. Her parents and especially Great-Grandma Lois would be very disappointed in her for refusing to communicate with God, but the hurt from having to give up her dream hadn’t healed. Might never heal. So she had no intention of trusting God with her concerns ever again.
Marty parked Brooke’s Lexus in the patch of grass next to her trailer and turned off the ignition. Brooke stirred and rolled her head lazily until her gaze met Marty’s. Marty smiled. “We’re back. The nurse said you should sleep, so let me help you inside and get you settled in bed.”
“Sounds good. I’ll be glad when I’m off these pain meds. They make me so groggy.”
Marty opened Brooke’s car door and cringed when her gaze fell on the bandage sticking out from the scooped neckline of Brooke’s top, showing where the technicians had placed a catheter into the vein leading to her heart. She assisted Brooke from the seat and kept her arm around her waist while they crossed the expanse of grass to the trailer’s small porch. They climbed up slowly, Brooke clinging to Marty and the handrail. Marty took the key from Brooke’s purse and unlocked the door. Although it was only a short jaunt from the car to the trailer, the Kansas heat and humidity raised perspiration all over her frame, and the rush of cool air from the trailer felt good.
Brooke had worn a loose-fitting tank and shorts made of T-shirt material, so Marty didn’t suggest she change into pajamas. Brooke sat on the edge of the bed, and Marty removed her sneakers and socks. She lifted Brooke’s legs onto the mattress, and her friend sank against the pillows, releasing a sigh. Her eyes slid closed.
“Thanks, Marty.”
“You’re welcome.” She retrieved Brooke’s cell phone from her purse and laid it on the nightstand. “Your phone’s right here next to the bed. Call when you wake up and I’ll come help you—don’t try to get out of bed by yourself.”
Brooke’s lips lifted in a tired smile. “Yes, Mother.”
The teasing comment brought the sting of tears. Marty couldn’t resist smoothing Brooke’s tousled hair away from her forehead. “Rest well.”
Brooke didn’t answer. She was already asleep. Marty covered her with a sheet, careful not to touch the slight bulge near her collarbone from the port, and tiptoed out of the room. She didn’t bother locking the trailer door behind her. With Ronnie in a youth facility somewhere, the fear of theft was gone. She pushed aside thoughts of the teenager who had sobbed out her pathetic story in Brooke’s living room. Thinking about Ronnie, wondering about her, only made her sad. She entered her own trailer and found Charlotte peeling potatoes at the counter.
Charlotte gave Marty a sheepish look. She gestured to the strips of brown peel in the sink. “I hope you don’t mind me working here. My trailer doesn’t have a garbage disposal. I can take the potatoes to my trailer and boil them if I’m in your way.”
Marty crossed to the sink and washed her hands. “No need to take the potatoes, but if you want to go rest, I’ll finish up.” The menu calendar showed shepherd’s pie for supper. Marty could take care of it on her own.
Charlotte’s blue eyes flew wide. “I can stay and help.”
Marty took the peeler from Charlotte’s hand. “You’ll probably have to do double duty again when Brooke starts chemo next week. She’ll need me close by. So go on. Take a little time for yourself.”
Charlotte twirled her cap’s ribbons with her fingers, uncertainty pinching her brow. “Are you sure? I really don’t mind helping.”
“I know you don’t.” Marty smiled and picked up a potato. She began whisking bits of peel into the sink. “But I’m fine. If I might be honest, I need a little time to myself, too. To…think.”
Charlotte nodded wisely. “I understand. I have those kinds of days myself. All right.” She removed her apron and draped it over her arm. “I’ll go wash towels, then. Can you believe Lucas and Myron haven’t washed their towels since we got here?” She made a sour face. “Lucas said why bother washing towels? They only use the towels to dry off after a shower when they’re clean, so how can the towels get dirty?” Her cheeks flamed red. “Even so, the idea…”
Marty laughed. “I guess men look at things differently than women do. I tell you what, I’ll take care of supper tonight if you’
ll carry a snack to the men this afternoon. There are plenty of cookies left from yesterday, and you can take some apples, too.”
“All right. Enjoy your afternoon, Marty.”
While Marty boiled and mashed potatoes, snapped green beans, and kneaded dough for dinner rolls, her mind bounced back and forth between keeping quiet or telling Anthony about Brooke’s intentions for the resort. When her phone rang shortly after four—Brooke calling to let Marty know she was awake, steady on her feet, and in need of nothing—Marty sagged in disappointment. Taking care of Brooke would give her a break from her troubling thoughts. But music was playing in the background, which meant Brooke had made it to the living room and had her stereo going. In other words, she was fine. Marty agreed to bring a plate of food to Brooke at suppertime, and Brooke agreed to call Marty if she needed help with something.
Anthony came in at six and headed straight for the shower. Marty had everything ready when the whole team of workers arrived at six thirty. Myron offered grace, and the men passed around the shepherd’s pie, fruited Jell-O, and rolls. Marty waited until they’d filled their plates before she scooped a serving of the casserole made of hamburger, green beans, mashed potatoes, and tomato sauce onto a plate for Brooke. She covered it with foil, then used a leftover margarine container to hold a spoonful of Jell-O. Items in hand, she crossed the yard between the two trailers and let herself in. Brooke was stretched out on the sofa, sleeping soundly. So she left the food on the counter, put Brooke’s phone on the sofa cushion close to her hand, and left.
Ours for a Season Page 21
