by Sara Daniel
“You’re still here?” the mayor demanded.
“As a matter of fact, I am.” Buying work gloves could wait a few minutes longer. She walked to the bench and sat in the small space between him and the edge. She could feel the surprise and hostility radiating from him, but she knew she had to try. If she could get the mayor to accept her—no guarantee by any means—she was certain the entire town would follow. “I’ve heard some disturbing rumors about this community, and I’ve been thinking, who better than the mayor to clear them up?”
“I don’t weigh in on rumors,” he said stiffly.
Veronica patted his hand. “I understand. After all, you’ve a savvy politician. And you obviously care about Kortville more than anyone. I’ve heard talk that you were promised money for a library building and baseball lights and a food pantry. I’ve also heard talk that because I came to town, you won’t get money for any of those things because they were all contingent on the sale of Ron’s distribution center. Which means it’s in your best interest to get rid of me, so the sale can go through.”
“You catch on fast.” His tone was hardly complimentary.
“Now, Wilbur,” Agatha began in reproach.
“Not fast enough,” Veronica assured him. “I never dreamed when I was invited here that I’d be taking something that had already been promised. To be honest with you, I’m not sure that Ron wants it to go to me, either. Maybe you can help me understand where his heart and his intentions lie.”
“His heart shriveled when your grandmother passed away,” Wilbur said. “Most everyone says it died completely when your mother left home.”
“Maybe having you here is bringing it back to life,” Agatha suggested.
If it was, Veronica certainly hadn’t seen any sign of it. But maybe Ron was just a lonely old man who’d tried to reach out but didn’t quite know how to do it. Maybe asking her to build a gazebo was his twisted way of trying to connect again.
“So what’s the worst that will happen if we don’t get funds, Wilbur?” Agatha asked. “The library can go for another year with bad plumbing. If they tear down that trailer, the baseball diamond will still be a go, and the teams can play during daylight hours without the need for lights.”
“We can’t let families go for another winter with no shoes or winter coats or go hungry when times are rough,” Wilbur stated emphatically.
“Did you have time to read through that website?” Veronica asked. “Have you applied for any grants like they suggested?” Her grandfather should not hold the town’s fate in his hands any more than her actions should have the power to take away their basic necessities.
“With the state budget in such a mess?” Wilbur snorted.
“Public money isn’t the only option,” she pointed out. “Some privately funded endowments and charities are set up to help with this exact kind of situation. I have contacts with a couple different groups that might be able to help you start a center.” Groups she used to organize fund-raisers for. Organizations her parents thought were appropriate places to announce her engagement.
“What’s in it for you?” Wilbur asked suspiciously.
Less traffic tickets on her record, buying groceries without being accused of fraud, walking out of the convenience store with something besides dusty doughnuts and melted ice cream, acceptance without needing to marry a well-connected man. “I get to prove that a city girl might have something to offer your town.”
“We’re not knocking city life,” Wilbur said. “Matt went away to school and worked for a big engineering firm in Chicago before he gave it all up to return home.”
“Why would he do that?” She’d left because she didn’t have any opportunities anywhere else. But Wilbur made it sound like Matt had willingly turned his back on a successful career. She couldn’t imagine him in a high-rise office. He was too physical and thrived on wide-open spaces. In fact, he didn’t seem to like having an office at all.
“Because family matters to him and this town does, too,” Agatha said. “Kortville Construction was his brother’s company. Matt took over when Steve and Leah were killed in that awful accident out on County Line Road. Jenny needed him, and he needed this town to help him learn how to care for her.”
“If you’re going to tell her everything, don’t stop there,” Matt said. She hadn’t heard him approach, but he was now standing in front of the bench, radiating a mix of horror, sadness, and fury.
…
Matt’s chest squeezed, as it did every time someone mentioned “that awful accident out on County Line Road.” Steve’s death wasn’t just a horrible tragedy. He’d been Matt’s brother, his partner in crime when they’d pretended their house was haunted to scare little Becca Sanders next door, and the person Matt had called for advice when contemplating job offers.
He’d lost track of how many times he’d picked up the phone to ask Steve for advice, only to remember that Steve—who’d had so much to live for and who brightened everyone else’s existence with his boundless energy—was gone. And Matt was on his own.
But if Matt was going to keep living, instead of burying himself alongside Steve, he couldn’t accept pity—from Veronica or anyone else in town. “Tell her how my rich city girlfriend left me so fast she laid a patch of rubber from here to the interstate.”
“That explains a lot.” Veronica met his gaze, and to his relief, it wasn’t dripping with sympathy. She pushed herself up from the bench without wincing at the pressure she placed on her injured hands. “But it doesn’t have anything to do with the food pantry—actually, let’s use a broader description, a community needs center—that we’re trying to get off the ground. I’ll make some calls and print out a few applications, and I’ll get back to you, Wilbur.”
The pressure on his chest subsided to a dull ache, knowing that she wasn’t going to wrap her arms around him and smother him with condolences. “Did you go to the clinic yet?”
“I’m on my way to buy those gloves, and then I’m diving right into the office paperwork.”
“The clinic?” Wilbur asked.
“I fought the roof, and the roof won,” she quipped, waving a bandaged hand at him.
Matt begged to differ. She’d won. Her hands had battle scars, but she’d beaten his preconceived notions. Even Steve’s hands-on wife Leah had preferred to leave the shingle work to her husband.
“You had her on a roof?” Wilbur demanded of Matt. “Did you at least give her some training and safety pointers before she went up there?”
“Don’t worry. Matt was a great instructor,” Veronica said, winking at him. “I’m just not the world’s best roofer. I’m going to work in the office for the afternoon and let the guys do what they do best.”
“He still should have taken better care of you,” Wilbur grumbled.
“It’s not his job to take care of me.”
“No, Wilbur’s right. I should have,” Matt admitted.
“For goodness sake, that’s the last thing I want,” Veronica said in frustration.
“Well, he can at least help you pick out some appropriate gloves,” Agatha said. Her gaze shifted to Matt. “And make sure she gets a canteen or a thermos, too.”
“I’ll make sure she has everything she needs before she works outside again,” Matt assured her. He couldn’t undo the damage he’d already caused, but he could ensure he held Veronica’s safety in highest regard from here on out.
But Agatha wasn’t finished. “You need to drink plenty of fluids, Veronica. Working out in the hot sun can dehydrate you fast. I’m worried that Ron and Matt aren’t looking out for you like they should.”
Veronica rolled her eyes but didn’t attempt to interrupt Agatha, who was clearly on a roll.
“And goodness knows Toby can’t even look out for himself, let alone anyone else. Do you hear he skipped school again today, Matt? Becca was fit to be tied when she got the call. I dare say that boy is more than she can handle.”
So Toby had been skipping. Matt should h
ave dug deeper when his gut told him Toby’s story was fishy. “Is she still working in the grocery store? I need to let her know he was with me. I’ll meet you in the hardware store,” he said to Veronica.
“I’m coming with you.” She leaned over and patted first Wilbur’s, then Agatha’s gnarled hands. “Thank you for taking care of me and looking out for everyone here. You’re good people. The citizens of Kortville are lucky to have you representing them.”
Matt strode away, but her words echoed in his head. Of course, he was grateful for everything the Hollisters and the rest of the town had done for him after Steve died. But when had he stopped to thank them? He gripped his cell phone, wishing he could dial Steve. He’d never needed his big brother’s guidance more.
…
By the time Veronica reached Matt and Becca, they were already deep in conversation, Becca’s expression frustrated while Matt seemed to be reassuring her.
“I should have questioned his story more. It’s completely my fault,” Matt said.
“No. He needs to take responsibility for his actions. He can’t lie to the adults in his life. He needs to concentrate on getting an education. How does he expect to have good enough grades to get into college if he keeps skipping high school?” Becca looked on the verge of tears. Her gaze landed on Veronica, and her face instantly stiffened.
“He’s a great kid, really thoughtful,” Veronica said. “You should be proud. His first concern was to offer me a pair of work gloves when I’d forgotten to bring my own.”
“We’ll get him through to the other side, Bec. The teen years don’t last forever,” Matt added.
Becca took a deep breath and dabbed at the corner of her eyes. “They certainly feel like it. Thanks, Matt. You, too, Veronica. You know…I’ve been thinking about your trailer. What you need are some flowers to spruce up your landscaping.”
Veronica raised an eyebrow. “You mean, landscaping on the trailer that everyone’s counting the days until it’s torn down, with or without me inside it?”
Becca waved her hand, as if the detail was inconsequential. “You’re going into the hardware store, now, right? Get the hanging baskets. Then you can take them with you.”
“Right. Good idea.”
Matt took her arm and steered her through the inside walkway to the hardware store. “You don’t want to plant flowers,” he muttered, once they were out of Becca’s earshot.
She stared at the assortment of hanging baskets filled with colorful blooms and lush green leaves. No, she didn’t want to plant flowers. But if she bought a dozen baskets, she could take Becca’s suggestion and give her trailer a homey feel now, as well as take them with her when she moved into a permanent home.
She reached out to touch the one with pink-and-white flowers, and the price tag came into focus. She could not afford twelve of that price. She dropped her hand and looked around. On the wall behind her were dozens of seed packets that were—she finally understood the pun—dirt cheap.
Her hands throbbed at the thought of all the digging she would have to do. Giving up access to her parents’ money did have a definite downside.
She looked back at the pretty baskets. She’d get one, so she could have some flowers now, and three packets of seeds that she could plant once she was settled in a new place and hopefully no longer ached everywhere. Veronica reached for the metal wires that led up to the hanging hook for the plant and lifted it down.
A pot full of dirt was a lot heavier than she anticipated. Her raw, scraped flesh screamed in protest as the metal wires dug into the gauze on her palm and fingers. She sucked in her breath as tears sprang to her eyes. She needed Becca to see her walking out of the store knowing Veronica had taken her advice. Her acceptance in this community required her to be mentally tougher than her soft, formerly pampered skin.
Matt lifted the planter out of her hand. “Don’t touch anything,” he ordered gruffly. “Tell me what else you want.”
She blindly grabbed a few seed packets. Her hands trembled too much to offer to take back the flowerpot. What she wanted was to lean against Matt and soak up his strength. “Agatha says you’re the gloves expert, so you better help me pick out a good pair. I guess I need to defer to your expertise on a canteen, too.”
“I’ll fix you up.” He brushed his index finger over an errant tear across her cheek. “Just don’t cry, okay?”
He turned and walked down an aisle. By the time she wiped her eyes and took a few shuddering breaths to compose herself, Matt had picked out an insulated water jug and a pair of leather work gloves. He pulled a smaller pair of aqua cloth gloves with rubber grips on the fingers off the rack. “Were you just sucking up, or are you really going to garden? Because you need these if you are.”
“I’m not allowed to do both at once?”
He swung toward her, the golden flecks in his eyes glittering. “This town is my family. If you hurt them, you’ll answer to me.”
His tenderness from earlier had vanished, replaced by a ferocious protectiveness that made her smile. Understanding why his loyalty ran so deep made her want to share in the town’s bond even more. “I’m not hurting anyone. The people of Kortville matter to me.”
Okay, so they hadn’t rolled out a welcome mat for her. But the truth was, this tight-knit town did matter. The way they closed ranks made her want to be part of that wall of solidarity. Of course, before that could happen, she had to convince them she wasn’t their enemy.
Matt set the flowerpot, thermos, and gloves on the counter and reached for his wallet.
No way. She might need to watch her budget, but she had to keep a closer watch over her independence. She set down the seed packets and covered his wrist with her hand. “This is my bill. I’ll pay it. You can vouch for the authenticity of my money.”
“I’ve always wanted to nail a counterfeiter.” The female clerk’s adoring gaze centered on Matt. If he wanted to cause Veronica more humiliation, this woman would be more than happy to accommodate.
Matt pulled his hand free and stepped back. “She’s good.”
Veronica let out a long, slow breath. As far as public acceptance, it wasn’t much. But her insides warmed with hope. For the second time in an hour, he’d stood up for her, first to her grandfather and now here.
That warmth chilled immediately. Was she making progress, or had she merely traded her dependence on her parents for dependence on Matt?
Chapter Six
The irony of what she was doing wasn’t lost on Veronica. To keep from marrying a well-connected man, she needed to use his connections with the Help the Less Fortunate organization to achieve her goal of breaking away from him. But she was willing to do it to prove to Matt and his town that she was committed to them.
Paige answered Trevor’s phone. “Thanks for calling me back.”
After the message this morning, Veronica should have known Paige would assume that was why she was calling. “I suppose Trevor’s unavailable in a meeting.”
“As usual,” Paige said cheerfully.
“I called to ask him about his work with Help the Less Fortunate,” Veronica said. The one thing that allowed their non-relationship to progress to the point of engagement had been his passion for this charity. While she’d focused solely on the fund-raising side, he’d left his precious meetings long enough to help people on the other end. “I have a town that desperately wants to provide food and clothing for its in-need residents, but it doesn’t have the initial funding to get the plan off the ground.”
“Would you like me to e-mail you the application, or are you looking for Trevor to wield some influence to get the town or state to cough up the money?” Paige asked.
“No offense to Trevor, but the mayor and I don’t think any influence is going to get us money when there’s none to spare.” But how to delicately say that she wanted more than an application? To say she wanted special treatment wasn’t exactly the truth; she was confident Kortville’s application would be accepted on its merits. But if
someone set it on a desk like the one in the construction office that she was wading through right now, it might not be discovered for years.
“Tell you what, why don’t you e-mail me the completed application, and I’ll personally hand it to Trevor. He’ll be relieved to know you left to do charity work and not because you were trying to stop the merger. Everything can go on as planned now. He’ll be happy to support your charity.”
Veronica glanced at her bandaged hands. “I care about this charity, but that’s not why I’m here. I’m getting my hands dirty working construction and living in a trailer.”
Paige laughed. “I e-mailed you the application. Send it back as soon as you can.”
Veronica started to protest that she was serious, but Paige had already hung up on her.
…
Matt had never wanted to regain total control of his company more than he did that morning. A rush job with no prior planning was bad enough, but this one also had the customer calling the shots because he thought a 50 percent ownership stake meant he knew something about construction. Consequently, Matt couldn’t put the work on hold until he’d done enough preplanning to ensure the quality would be up to Kortville Construction’s standards.
However, he could work day and night to make sure the most taxing physical labor would be done before Veronica arrived, and she could give Ron the appearance that she’d done everything. Last night with the rain soaking them, he and Toby had measured where the posts would go. The rain had stopped by the time he’d come back this morning to dig the postholes in the mud. The holes done, he returned to his truck for the posts.
Matt stopped cold at the corner of the house. Veronica was at the end of the driveway, wearing gloves, a T-shirt in her signature pink color, and designer jeans. Ron stood over her, directing her to mix three bags of dry concrete and water in the wheelbarrow Matt had spent the better part of an hour bending back into shape. Her stupid how-to book was open on the ground. She shifted over to refer to it.
