by Glynna Kaye
“I like it. Especially that window seat.”
The bedroom was tiny, but featured windows on two sides of the knotty pine walls. As the only daughter in the Mason household, it was an ideal space for a tween’s getaway.
“What’s your favorite color, Samantha?” Like Tiffany, it had to be a shade of purple. That is, if she’d personally picked out the somewhat faded sweatshirt she was wearing. But it wouldn’t hurt to have that confirmed before Delaney did a bit of shopping.
“Lavender and pink.”
“Then we’ll make sure your room features those colors.” Lois at the church said the women’s ministry would supply new bedding, but Delaney intended to include a few other matching items near and dear to a teenage girl’s heart. Rugs. Lamps. Pillows. Posters.
Samantha’s smile widened as she exchanged a look of excitement with her mother.
“Well, we need to be going.” Lizzie moved toward the door, and Delaney was again struck by how much younger Benton Mason’s wife was than what she’d imagined the mother of five to be.
Early thirties, with a generous smile and light brown, French-braided hair, the expression in her eyes nevertheless held a wariness that tugged at Delaney’s heart. The look suggested Lizzie had reasons to not trust the world around her.
“Min wanted me to bring Samantha by to see the house,” she continued. “And I wanted to thank all of you for what you’re doing. I—” She stopped abruptly, as if momentarily overcome by emotion. “This means so much to me.”
Delaney stepped forward to give her slim frame a hug. “We’re happy to be able to help. I understand what it’s like to be separated from those you love. I know how hard it is.”
She didn’t know what it was like to be separated from a husband or a child. But it couldn’t be much easier than what she’d been through herself.
Still somewhat shaken by the similarities between the Mason girl and her little sister, Delaney saw Min and the Masons to the front door. Waving goodbye, she noticed a familiar pickup now parked on the street behind Garrett’s SUV. Luke was here?
Her heart doing an unexpected pirouette, the sound of rumbling male voices around the corner of the house lured her outside to join them.
“So you got to meet Samantha.” Garrett motioned her closer to where they’d been inspecting the foundation. “Kind of puts a face on what you’re trying to accomplish here, doesn’t it?”
“It definitely does.” She eyed Luke. “What brings you here?”
When she and Paris had met him on the street the other day, he’d wasted no time in turning down Garrett’s invitation to join them at the house. So much for an opportunity to coax a smile from him. But now here he was.
He jerked his head in his cousin’s direction. “Garrett wants to get some of the junk out of your way this morning.”
A surge of hope shot through her at the prospect of that chore being done before youth group parents and kids toured the place that evening. “That would be wonderful.”
Garrett nodded. “We figured it couldn’t hurt to make it as presentable as we can.”
We? That was doubtful knowing how Luke felt about the Masons. Apparently Garrett had a God-given gift for persuasion—either that or had something he could hold over Luke’s head in the form of blackmail.
Nevertheless, depending on how quickly the two of them cleared things out, she might have time to vacuum and mop floors. Travis had probably put out the word about the condition of the place, but while no amount of preliminary effort would win a Good Housekeeping award, anything she could do to make it less scary to kids and their folks would be worth it.
She followed the two men back into the house where Luke secured the screen door wide open, then he and Garrett grabbed the ends of the sagging sofa.
Leave it to these guys not to clear a path to the door. She snatched up a box of knickknacks and set it to the side. “What can I do to help?”
“Just stay out of the way,” Luke mumbled.
Garrett offered an apologetic grin. “He means so you don’t get hurt. Men moving furniture can prove dangerous to innocent bystanders. Right, Luke?”
Luke grunted as he lifted his end of the sofa with an impressive display of muscle. “Yeah. Right.”
Garrett winked at her as he heaved up his side and stepped over a box of magazines. “Don’t pay any attention to him. He got up on the wrong side of the bunk this morning.”
She scurried to step out on the porch before they did, but close enough in case her assistance was needed as they maneuvered their way out. It wasn’t.
The sofa was loaded without incident into the bed of Luke’s pickup, then a decrepit coffee table, two end tables and an armchair losing its stuffing followed. Boxes full of miscellaneous items wedged neatly into crooks and crannies.
“That’s it for this round.” From where he stood, next to the truck’s storage chest, Luke pulled out a handful of rubber tarp straps, then efficiently secured the load. “Ready to roll, Garrett?”
Garrett glanced at his watch. “I’m afraid if I ride along, I’ll cut it too close to get back to conduct that funeral. Why don’t you take Delaney?”
She cast a bewildered look at Luke, then Garrett. “Me? I can’t lift that sofa.”
Garrett shrugged. “You don’t have to. Someone will help out on the other end. Ride along and keep an eye on the stuff in the back, make sure nothing comes loose. You can do that, can’t you?”
“I suppose so.”
“Don’t worry about it, Delaney. I can manage.” Luke briskly moved to the driver’s side of the pickup and opened the door, obviously not wanting to waste time in a debate.
She shouldn’t go along. There was more than enough to do here at the house to get ready for tonight. And yet...what harm would come of enjoying Luke’s company for an hour or so?
For whatever reason, despite being dead set against helping the Masons, he’d taken time from his workday to help clean out the worst of the bulky stuff from downstairs. He didn’t have to do that, and Garrett seemed to think it important that someone ride shotgun and keep an eye on things in the bed of the truck while Luke focused on the road.
“You’ll lock up when you have to leave?” Pulling one of the house keys from her jeans pocket, she tossed it to Garrett who easily caught it midair.
“Can do.”
“Well, then—” With a sense of anticipation she chose not to analyze, she jogged to the passenger-side door of the big truck, then peeped through the window to wave at a somewhat confused-looking Luke. “Let’s roll.”
Chapter Eight
He wasn’t quite sure how this happened, but it didn’t feel half bad to be driving through Hunter Ridge with a pretty lady seated beside him. Well, not beside him exactly. Rags had situated himself between them, hogging part of Delaney’s seat and seeming to enjoy her arm looped around his neck.
“So where are we going with this stuff?”
“To a secondhand shop in Canyon Springs first. Then what he doesn’t want we can let Goodwill take a look at, take anything that’s recyclable to the recycle center and haul anything that’s left to the landfill.”
He lifted a hand to acknowledge Packy who’d stepped outside the Log Cabin Café to continue a chat with a customer. No doubt he’d get razzed about Delaney the next time he set foot inside for a cup of coffee.
“I met that guy when Paris and I had lunch there.” Delaney turned inquisitive eyes on Luke. “Why do they call him Packy?”
“Packrat. His place makes Bachelor Bob’s look like a showcase. Somebody should get one of those TV shows specializing in hoarding interventions to conduct an inspection.”
She gave Rags a hug as they headed out of town. “Hunter Ridge has a lot of interesting people, doesn’t it?”
“More than you can count, I
imagine.” Most small towns were probably like that. People couldn’t easily hide their idiosyncrasies from neighbors the way they often could in the relative anonymity of cities.
“So your family founded the town, right?”
“Harrison ‘Duke’ Hunter, to be exact. My great-great-grandfather. He settled here in the early 1900s. Established a lodging place for hunters and backcountry explorers. Outdoorsmen—and -women—have been the core of Hunter Ridge ever since. Its life’s blood.”
“It seems that a growing art community is pumping in a fresh, life-sustaining supply, too.”
Delaney gave them too much credit. Who knew what propaganda Sunshine had filled her head with?
“That population is relatively new and not likely one that the town can sustain indefinitely. It’s not the heart and soul of Hunter Ridge and don’t let anyone else tell you different.”
“So how new is new?”
“Maybe five, six years, although it had its roots in a dispute that occurred thirty years ago.” Thanks to his aunt—whom he remembered, although he’d been only a youngster at the time of her departure.
“Oooh, I love history. What happened?”
He applied the brake as they rounded another thickly forested curve. Delaney may as well know the whole story and come to understand that Hunter Ridge belonged to the Hunter family—and those who were like-minded. Not the newcomers.
“My Uncle Doug—one of Dad’s brothers—and Uncle Doug’s wife Charlotte divorced. She was a wealthy city gal who’d caught Uncle Doug’s eye while away in college. Love at first sight and all that. It didn’t take her long, though, to figure out she hated it here.”
“Why? This area is beautiful.” She gave Rags another hug, then stared out the window thoughtfully as they started down the twisting, tree-lined road that would eventually bottom out to a bridge over Hunter Creek, then climb to the next ridge and the main highway. It was a tough incline to get up or down come winter.
“Apparently she thought she was better than everyone else in town.” He adjusted his rearview mirror. “So it wasn’t long after their first child was born that she left with the kid and sicced a bunch of big city lawyers on Uncle Doug. She got custody of their son and a sweet chunk of his property, too. Property which she sat on for a lot of years, paying the taxes but letting it stand vacant. And become an eyesore and a constant reminder to the community of what she thinks of it.”
“That’s mean.”
“Yeah, it was.” He could remember as a teen peering into the empty storefronts, hearing his parents and grandparents grumble about Aunt Char’s vindictiveness. “But maybe half a dozen years ago, she started leasing and selling off pieces of property to those she knew would most irritate townspeople.”
Delaney’s mouth took a downturn. “Artists?”
He nodded. “And not just any artists, but the more free-spirited, nonconformist variety.”
Boy, did Aunt Char know how to pick ’em.
“However—” He slowed as they crossed the bridge stretching over the creek, the water level diminishing now that the winter snow runoff had mostly flowed downstream. “The upside is that Hunter Enterprises was born. The extended family pulled together to protect remaining properties inherited from our ancestor.”
Delaney didn’t respond. Did she not care for his take on the artistic types that were invading the community? He increased pressure on the gas pedal as they started up the incline on the other side of the creek and Delaney turned to look at their cargo.
He glanced in his rearview mirror when she didn’t immediately settle back into her seat. “Everything okay back there?”
“Looks to be. You secured it well. I was noticing how beautiful it is looking up at the ridge behind us. The sky is so blue above the treetops.”
“Yeah, it’s amazing country. But then you’d already know that, having lived in Canyon Springs.”
Delaney turned again to face the windshield, then squared her shoulders as if something had been weighing on her mind. “I get the impression, Luke, that you think my wanting to help the Masons is a mark against my own values and beliefs.” She placed a hand on his forearm. “That’s not true at all.”
He drew a breath as her hand warmed his skin, trying to refocus on the road. “I don’t—”
“But you think I’m wrong, and I know deep down you hope that tonight the other parents and kids will reject the project. But you’re helping today because you want to make it look as if it doesn’t matter to you.”
“Why would I do that?”
She withdrew her hand, her gaze still intent. “I don’t know.”
He didn’t know, either. When Garrett called to see about bringing his truck over, saying no had been his first instinct. With Garrett’s and the women’s ministries buy-in, it was pretty much a done deal. What did it matter if the junk was cleaned out or not? It wasn’t as if she’d be hosting an open house this evening.
As they topped the winding road where it joined the highway, Luke checked for traffic, then pulled out.
He didn’t exactly know why he’d agreed to help today. But one thing was for certain. It had nothing to do with the sweet-smelling, golden-haired beauty sitting here beside him, her searching gaze all but boring a hole through him.
No, sir. Not a thing.
* * *
Luke Hunter is one stubborn man.
She’d repeated that mantra to herself all the way to Canyon Springs and back even though they’d kept the remainder of their limited conversation to superficialities rather than the Masons and the project house.
She’d spent most of the return drive looking out the window as the endless stands of ponderosa pine flashed by, trying to ignore the masculine presence behind the wheel. Repeatedly she reprimanded herself for trying to get him to understand that although she supported the work on the Mason house, that didn’t mean that she necessarily agreed with their lifestyle.
And now, watching him tonight across the room of the project house, arms folded and deep in discussion with two sets of youth group parents, she couldn’t forget how he’d laughed when he’d first stepped through the door. For a reason lost to her, the fairy lights strung across the top of the now-curtainless drapery rods and the appetizers and punch bowl arranged on a tablecloth-covered card table amused him.
Did he think she’d usher people into a cold dark house?
But the ninety-minute open house was almost over and Garrett, his little cousin Chloe clinging to his hand, had confided he thought all was going well, that their efforts to declutter had paid off. Of course, that left plenty of projects that still needed attention. An overgrown yard. Worn carpeting. Peeling wallpaper. Scarred woodwork. A kitchen in desperate need of emergency triage.
And the infamous half bath.
Upstairs Bachelor Bob boxes of items unwanted by his family had been shoved against the walls of the bedrooms to allow for a tour. Luke had agreed before he’d returned to work that afternoon to get them moved out at the first opportunity. But even if parents gave the project a thumbs-up tonight, the kids wouldn’t be starting tomorrow. At least not inside.
Thanks to Travis and Anna’s father.
“I’m thankful Luke Hunter knows something about flooring in old houses,” Min Chambers confided as Delaney ladled a cup of punch and handed it to her, her whispered comment not quite echoing Delaney’s take on the situation. “Checking out the under-layers of the linoleum in the kitchen for asbestos somehow escaped our checklist.”
Yes, leave it to Luke to think of that. Nevertheless... “I agree. Quite thankful.”
“Don’t you worry.” Min nodded warmly in Luke’s direction. “This will get taken care of and, thanks to him, no harm will come to anyone.”
Min slipped her arm around Delaney’s waist for a quick hug, then moved off to mingle with the
remaining few parents and teens to answer questions. Travis hadn’t put in an appearance tonight and Anna stayed only a short while with Sybil, asking probing questions about the estimated cost of supplies and labor should the project be outsourced to others rather than completed by the youth group.
Suddenly tired, Delaney headed to the kitchen where Luke had blocked the entrance with a kid gate to prevent anyone from entering the possibly contaminated area where Delaney had already pulled up a sizeable section of the linoleum. A harsh overhead light more than revealed the room’s shortcomings, including the telltale, plastic-covered section of flooring by the back door. She’d been so sure of this project, excited from the moment she’d first met with Min and Lois about the opportunity to take part. Certain of God’s leading.
And now this.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want the space to be safe for the youth group to work in or for the Masons. She did. But why couldn’t Luke have thought of that potential problem earlier in the week when there might have been time to get it taken care of? Surely he hadn’t intentionally withheld his speculation until today, had he?
But it was only after their return from Canyon Springs that he’d pointed out a section of flooring where she’d tried to pull up the layers, hoping to find wooden floor beneath. Cautioning her about the prevalence of asbestos in older linoleum, he’d wet paper towels and placed them over the area, then covered it with heavy-duty garbage bags, as well.
“Staring at it won’t make it go away.”
At the sound of Luke’s voice, she drew her gaze away from the plastic blanketing the surface by the back door. This delay forfeited any momentum generated by the few kids who shared her vision for the place and were most enthusiastic about getting started.
“I know you’re not happy with me right now, Delaney.”
There was no point in denying that. “What if the flooring does contain asbestos?”
“Then it will be removed.”
“But doesn’t that take time we don’t have? Won’t the kitchen have to be sealed off and men in hazmat suits come in to remove it?”
