Clint slipped his hand around her arm and led her to an empty place at the table. He pulled out her chair and then sat across from her at the folding table.
The game began, and she caught on, as did Clint. Each time they placed their tokens on the correct symbols of the board she wanted to chuckle. Though new to the game, they formed the first sequence at their table. Two completed sequences meant they would win the game.
A few minutes later, Clint laid his token on the board, forming their second sequence. “Sequence.”
Paula couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s two games out of three.”
Ashley stood above them shaking her head. “Are you two mind readers?”
Clint’s eyes latched to hers. “We’ve noticed it on occasion.”
Heat grew on Paula’s face as all eyes focused on her. “The man does have a knack.” Though she kept her grin steady, she couldn’t help but recall the many times Clint had read her thoughts. The ability wasn’t hers as much as his. But the game. Pure luck.
Maureen gave Sal a playful punch. “I wish he had that quality when he goes to the grocery store. I send him for a few items and he comes back with everything but.” Her perception added levity and the focus shifted to Sal.
They played the seven games planned, and the last game pumped her spirit. With one sequence completed, she studied the game cards in her hand and knew what she wanted Clint to do.
He hesitated, his eyes raking over his options. Finally he looked at her. “Wish I could read your mind now.” He shook his head.” I have two choices, and I can’t decide which one to play.”
Going along with the running joke, she gave him a wink. “I’ll concentrate.” She gave him a dramatic gaze, and he selected a token and set it down. Her pulse jigged when he placed it on the spot she’d wanted. He looked at her and she could only laugh. Maureen placed her token, and Paula lifted hers and set it on the board. “Sequence.” They’d won four of the seven games.
Neely rose, bracing her growing belly beneath her hand. “We have to separate these two next time.”
Everyone laughed, and Paula managed to grin along with them, but the reality hit her. Being a couple with someone like Clint would be more than she dreamed. The concept wrapped around her heart, a mixture of longing and disbelief. She’d never felt anything like this before. Neely and Ashley sometimes made reference to God’s plan for them. The concept had meant nothing to her, not even a vague understanding, but being a partner with Clint in an activity as simple as a game roused a question. If God had a plan for everyone, was Clint part of her plan or just another disappointment? She spent her life expecting her hopes to be dashed because believing good things would happen created a greater letdown.
The negative thought hit her stomach, but her recent determination chased it away. She’d had enough downers in her life. Maybe, just for once, a new road opening for her could send her on a journey that led to good things.
Sometimes she wished she knew how to pray. She’d ask God to give her a hint of His plan for her. If He had one. She knew so little about the faith her cousins, even Clint, held so dear. Closing her mind to the possibility wasn’t a choice anymore. The seed had been planted and insisted on burrowing deeper. She loved the new walk even though it scared her. But she’d never laughed or smiled so much in her life as she had these past weeks. She wasn’t willing to give those up for anything. Especially not misery.
Chapter Four
“Can you handle a spreadsheet?”
Paula’s pulse skipped as she studied the manager’s stoic expression. “Yes. Which program do you use?”
He hesitated and glanced again at her résumé. “Which have you worked with?”
His evasive response reminded her of the tactic she used. “Excel, Quickbooks, Quantros.” She searched for other types she’d heard of. They were all alike...or she hoped they were.
Silence settled around them like a fog. Finally, he closed the file and slid it onto a pile. “We have a few more interviews, and we’ll let you know at the end of the week.” He rolled back in his chair and rose, his hand thrust toward her. She eyed his navy suit, a bit frayed at the cuff and tight around his paunch. She hoped the worn suit didn’t reflect the financial situation of the business.
She stood and grasped his palm, managing a firm shake though her heart wasn’t in it. As with most interviews, she had no idea what they wanted. His vague comments and questions left her puzzled. It all seemed a game. Yet, the truth was with so many people out of work, employers had the advantage. She didn’t. “Thank you, Mr.... She glanced at his name engraved on the desk stand. “Mr. Ledworth. I hope to hear from you.”
With her bag slung over her shoulder, she turned toward the door and exited, feeling the bite of discouragement. This had been her second interview that day and the seventh since she’d begun looking.
The man had commented on her newness in town and lack of work for the past few months. She’d tried to explain, but his expression let her know he’d heard it before. She massaged her neck as she stepped into the autumn sunlight, and though a slight chill hung in the air, the sun’s glare caused her to squint.
A stream of air shot from her lungs when she jerked open her car door. She slid inside and, before she slipped the key into the ignition, she heard the buzz of her cell phone, the first she’d owned since Vic. She glanced at the ID, her anxiety heightening. Classic reality. Hating to get her hopes up, she pressed the answer button. “Paula Reynolds speaking.”
She listened, her hope rising. “How much have they offered?” Her heart sank. “That’s twenty thousand dollars less than the asking price.” Dreams of purchasing Ashley’s house dimmed. “Is this normal? I thought we gave them a fair price. More than fair.”
Feeling out of her realm, she listened to his explanation. She knew people tried to barter. Why was she surprised? “Okay. So we counter offer.”
The more she listened the more disheartened she became. “What do you suggest?” Her stomach sank. She needed every penny, but she also wanted to sell the place.
His voice droned on until she longed to hang up. “No. Not that low. The house is priced to sell already.” Though she knew nothing about pricing homes, she plowed ahead. “Offer them five thousand less than the asking price.”
She finally gave up. “Okay, counter with half of the difference. Ten. But that’s it.”
She hung up, her pulse racing. What happened to the concept of the Realtor supporting the client and not the buyer? Jamming the key into the ignition, she revved the motor and backed out of the parking space. Indecisive employers and buyer-pleasing Realtors. Just what she needed.
Once heading back to her uncle’s, she calmed. The world spun on a different plane than it had in the past. Change happened, and it wasn’t the seller’s market or the unemployed with options. If she wanted to work, she needed to hang on. To sell the house, she had to give in.
She longed to talk with Clint. He had a calming effect on her, but she knew he was working, and her showing up at the fire station wasn’t feasible. They weren’t even dating. She’d keep her boundaries. Silly, but she established them, and it saddened her. Solidifying their friendship was something she could correct.
Today, she flipped the page. The end was ahead. It could be tragic or happy ever after. She grasped the latter.
* * *
Clint finished the floors, one of his tasks for the day. Sometimes he wondered if the crew could get together and hire a cleaning lady. He grinned at his stupid thought, but Paula flashed into his mind as his idea got even more ridiculous. She needed a job and... He’d love to see her daily, giving her support, wisdom, whatever she needed while she made him feel alive again.
The warm feeling curled through his chest. Talk about ridiculous. He’d spent wasted hours convincing himself he was only up for a friendship whi
le half of him had dreams that went deeper.
Devon passed by the doorway, and Devon’s words flashed through his mind. Will you ask her out on a date and not just to talk? Talk seemed to be their M.O. He settled onto a chair in the day room while questions dropped into his mind. What did he want? Most of the time, he wasn’t sure. What did he need? That question was even more vague...except at the moment he wanted to talk with her. She’d been in his thoughts all day.
As quickly as the idea of asking her out, he had another thought. His opinions on finances and savings needed to be stifled. Paula tried to be pleasant, but he recognized irritation building in her, and he’d tried to stop himself from doing more damage than good. Hoping what he said hadn’t upset her too much, he decided to move ahead.
He pulled out his cell and hit his contacts. Paula had given him her new cell phone number the day she got it. Curious as always, he asked why she didn’t have a cell phone. Everyone did, but she gave one of her evasive responses. He lowered his phone, picturing the day she would open up and let him in.
Startled by the TV’s blast, he glanced up to see two of the crew giving attention to the six-o’clock news. Tasks were done for everyone except the kitchen crew. A whiff of something good had sailed past him when he’d neared the kitchen earlier, but his usual appetite had taken a hike. His stomach churned with his indecision over Paula.
Fighting the option to pop the cell phone back into his pocket, he slid his finger along the contact list to the Ps and hit her number. He waited, his heart in his throat until she answered. But before he could bring up the topic of a date, she had her own priority.
“I was tempted to call you today. I even thought of driving there to see you. I’m sure you’re glad I stopped myself.”
An image of her appearing at the station flew into his mind. Bad timing, but he longed to see her.
“But I decided that wouldn’t be appropriate. You know me. Sometimes my ideas aren’t the greatest until I work them out with a little common sense.”
The reference struck him as a spillover from their previous conversation on finances. “You’re welcome to drop by. Evenings, though, are best when our scheduled work is finished. Usually after dinner is when families show up. The chief is good about that, unless we—” He closed his mouth, sounding as if he were rattling on and on. “You sound a little upset. What happened?” Dumb question. Why else would she want to see him? He winced. “Or did you hear good news?” He knew better. The tone of her voice signaled a problem.
Silence until she finally spoke. “Sometimes I think I have a loose screw in my head.”
“Never. You’re just missing a washer.” He wanted to cheer her up but he didn’t seem to be succeeding. When he noticed two buddies glancing his way, curiosity emblazoned on their faces, he knew he needed privacy.
“Let’s get back to my question.” To avoid the men’s eavesdropping, he wandered out the door into the hallway, searching for an empty room and waiting for her response. He’d already been taunted by some of the guys who Sal had talked with about the Sequence evening. They all wanted to know about his “secret” girlfriend.
“Yes and no.” Paula’s voice cut through his thoughts.
He made his way down the hall and found his sleeping quarters were empty. Grateful, he plopped onto his bunk. “Which should I hear first?” He plumped his pillow, braced it against the wall and leaned back.
“I had another job interview today. It wasn’t promising, but what really upset me was the call from my Realtor.”
That sounded an alarm, and his head popped up for a moment. “Is this the good or the bad?”
“Both.”
Though his mind overflowed with possibilities, he was tired of playing mental guessing games. “Tell me the good first.”
“I had another offer on the house.”
“Okay. That’s good. Now what’s the bad?” He held his breath, already guessing what she would say. He listened to the details and didn’t see the problem. She had an offer but with twenty thousand shaved off the asking price. Not bad. “It could have been worse, Paula.”
“Worse? How?”
She’d never sold a house before and her innocence showed. Not wanting to upset her, he started to explain worse counteroffer possibilities. But before he finished, he heard the call for dinner. “Let’s do this. Think about it. Tomorrow I’ll be home for a couple of days. We’ll have time to really talk without listening ears.”
A puff of breath whisked through the receiver. “You’re in close quarters. I forgot.”
She sounded discouraged, and he had so much more to say. “I’ll catch a nap in the morning if I need it and give you a call in the afternoon. We can get together then. Will that work?”
“Sure, but I’m sorry I laid this on you, Clint. You have your job on your mind and I—”
“I’m happy to listen and if I can help, so much the better.” He chuckled into the phone, hoping she imagined his grin. “And the only thing I have on my mind at the moment is dinner.”
“Ah.” Tension had eased from her tone. “I should have known. Thanks for listening.”
“I’ll do more than that tomorrow. See you then, and we can mull over the situation.”
“Thanks. See you tomorrow.”
He heard the disconnect and stared at the silent phone. “So much for a real date.” He slipped it into his pocket and headed to the dining room.
* * *
Paula’s scowl eased as she finished her story again, this time adding all the details. She eyed Clint, unable to read his thoughts, though she wished she could. Somehow he always read hers—validated at the Sequence party—and though it flattered her in a way, often she disliked his knowing what was on her mind. Waiting to give him time to respond, she worked at patience—something she didn’t have. “What are you thinking?”
His gaze had drifted out the window or somewhere else, along with his mind, and she concluded he hadn’t heard her. “What are—”
“I don’t know what to think. I don’t know anything about the house, so if it’s a fair price or not, I don’t have any way to know. Counteroffers are part of the sale. It’s a kind of bartering. You’re not the only seller who deals with it, and you have the—”
“I realize the Realtor is involved, but...” Being alone was part of her life, but Clint didn’t have any concept of her kind of solitude. His experience even at work was having his crew, his pals. “But I—” Words still failed her. She’d never had anyone offer good advice, not her mother, her few friends or Vic. Especially him. He wouldn’t know good advice if it bit him.
“But the final decision is yours.” He stared at her a moment. “I’m sure you might feel alone. The Realtor is hired. He wants a sale no matter what. That’s how he earns his money.”
She nodded, recognizing he understood more than she thought. “That’s it. But I’ve never sold a house. I’ve never even owned one.”
He nodded, his eyes downward, as gears seemed to turn in his head. She recognized his way of analyzing a problem. When his head lifted, a new light shone in his eyes. “Here’s the plan. I’m off today and tomorrow. It’s already afternoon now so let’s take a ride to Roscommon tomorrow morning. I’ll look at the house and can make a better judgment. Advice is better based on fact.”
Her spirit brightened. “Would you do that? Don’t you have things to do at home?”
Clint gave her a wink. “The dust will still be there the next time I have a day off. Ever notice that?”
She laughed despite her heavy thoughts. Clint could do that for her. “I have a collection of dust bunnies that I’ve grown to love.”
He leaned forward, his expression more serious. “I’m anxious to see the house anyway, so it will be a fun trip.”
Fun. She wasn’t sure. Whenever she entered the two-story farmh
ouse, her emptiness deepened, thinking of all she’d missed in life that others talked about—affectionate parents, lessons in faith, security without question. The list could go on, but blaming her mother or father had become pointless. So many of her dumb decisions had been her own, and she could only blame herself. The time had come to welcome the present. Wise decisions were long overdue. “You’re sure you don’t mind?”
“I am or I wouldn’t have suggested it. How long to get there? Three hours?”
“A little less.”
He gave her an agreeable nod, while a look in his eyes left her longing for a secure life with him. She relaxed against the cushion. “I’m glad you’ll have a chance to see it, and I can take a few notes on what to keep if anything and what to give away. I’m not sure that will be fun.” She managed a grin. “You mentioned fun.”
“Ah, but you don’t know the second part of my plan.”
She held her breath. “And what does that mean?” Then she remembered the gift certificate they’d won at the game night. He’d never told her what it was for.
“We’ll be very close to Frankenmuth on I-75 freeway. Do you like German food?”
She shrugged. “I’ve never eaten it that I know of, and I’ve never been to Frankenmuth. Can you believe?”
“No.” His brows arched upward. “I thought everyone who lives in Michigan has been there.”
The list of things she’d never done got longer.
“It’ll turn you into a child again.” He rose and sat on the arm of her chair. “Wait until you see.”
A child again? “Okay. I believe you.”
“And you should.” His head lowered a moment, his uneasiness noticeable. “You know the trip to Frankenmuth will be our—” He inched upward, his eyes searching hers. “Our first real date.”
First date? Her pulse skittered. “It’ll be fun. Thanks.” She heard her voice but didn’t recall speaking.
His eyes brightened as a look of relief swept across his face. He grasped her hand and kissed her palm. “It will be. I can’t wait.”
Rescued by the Firefighter Page 6
