She nodded. “I can’t simply cut a new piece of glass to replace the broken one and slip it back into place. I’ve got to start at one side and work my way in, piece by piece, dismantling the caming until I reach the area that needs the repair.”
“Caming.” Dev paused to watch Mick stretch his tape measure across a board. “Is that the lead?”
“Yes.”
“Sounds like taking a corner of a puzzle apart to try to reach a piece near the middle.”
“Exactly.”
“Do you work on repairs at night?”
“No.” She shook her head and waited through another of Mick’s noisy cuts. “I have plenty of time during regular shop hours to do repair work. Not that I don’t have lots of other business to keep me busy,” she added quickly. The last thing she wanted Dev to know was how precarious things were at times.
Most of the time.
“I’ll have to get started on the windows for Tess’s project soon,” she said. “Those will keep me tied up for months. And I’ll need still more space for those, too.”
“How long does it take you to make a window—a window of the size Tess has in mind?” he asked.
She stared at Dev, trying to decipher that strange new element in his expression—that odd, banked heat. If she didn’t know him better, she’d think he was interested in her. Or in what she was saying. But he couldn’t possibly be.
So why was he sticking around for so long and asking so many questions? “Why do you want to know? Did Geneva send you to spy on me?”
“No.” His eyes creased at the corners, reminding her how she used to hate feeling as though she was the butt of his private jokes. “I’m just curious,” he said.
A customer walked into her shop, and she excused herself to greet him. Dev stayed where she’d left him, watching her pull a couple of lengths of caming from a shelf and stretch a few pieces before ringing up the sale.
“Now I’m really curious,” Dev said after she’d returned to the rear of her shop. “What did you do with those strips of metal?”
“I stretched them.”
“Why?”
“It has to do with the molecules in the lead.” She crossed her arms and leaned against her worktable. “If you’re really interested, I could explain it all in detail. Some other time, maybe.”
She tightened her fingers on her arms, holding herself steady beneath the scrutiny of that stomach-knotting, crinkly-cornered stare.
“Okay,” he said at last. “Some other time, then.”
She walked him to the door. “Please tell Geneva I’ll get to work on her windows as soon as the replacement glass arrives. I want to make sure I’ve got everything I need before I start.”
Dev pulled the door open and then paused, shifting slightly, his face a few inches from hers. “Anything else you’d like to say?” he asked in a low, intimate tone.
She bit her lower lip and shook her head.
He cast one last, dark glance in Mick’s direction before pulling the door closed behind him.
Addie was tempted to sag against the jamb. Instead, she placed a palm on the door and curled her fingers against the cool glass as she watched Dev moving quickly down the street with his long, confident stride. She was relieved to see him go. And wishing she’d taken the chance to say…something.
“You don’t like that guy much, do you?” Mick asked.
“I’m sorry it was so obvious. That must have been uncomfortable for you.” She pushed her hair back from her face with a sigh. “Dev Chandler seems to bring out the worst in me. He always has.”
“How long have you known each other?”
“Since we were kids.” She crossed the shop to admire the new bins Mick had installed. “His dad brought him to live at Chandler House when I was eight. He’s been tormenting me ever since. Like a nasty big brother.”
Mick narrowed his eyes. “He doesn’t think of you as a sister.”
“Well, I’m not his sister, thank goodness. This is wonderful, Mick,” she said, running her hand along the smooth edge of a new bin divider. A slight downward tilt to the base would prevent the glass squares from shifting forward and falling during another quake. “Perfect. Thank you.”
“Easy as pie.” He unstrapped his utility belt and dropped it in his toolbox. “A couple coats of paint, and you’re all set.”
“That chore can wait until tomorrow.” She checked her watch before flipping the sign in her shop door to Closed. “Another day closer to retirement.”
Mick stooped to toss wood scraps into the box Addie handed to him. “What do you think you’ll do when that day comes?”
“Probably the same things I do now,” she said as she swept sawdust into a pan. “Only I’ll be retired, so they’ll be just for fun.”
“That’s a nice way of looking at it. You’re a ray of sunshine, aren’t you?” He stepped closer, and ran a fingertip down the side of her face. “I sure do like that about you, Addie.”
She forced herself to stand very still, to appreciate his touch and absorb the sweetness of his gesture. “What will you do when you retire?” she asked.
“Settle some place where the summers are long and warm and I can get season tickets to the local ballpark. Going to sit in the stands on game nights and out on my front porch on the nights in between.”
“Sounds wonderful.”
He lowered his gaze to his boots and scrubbed one toe over a crack in her concrete floor. “Coming to the game tonight?”
She was careful to keep her smile in place as she moved away to put the broom back in its place. “Going to leave a ticket for me at the gate?”
“Going to have a drink with me after the game if I do?”
“Going to hit a home run for me if I say yes?”
“Now darlin’,” he said with a put-upon sigh, “you know I can’t deliver one of those babies every game.”
“I’m not asking about every game.” She closed her cash box and locked it away in a file drawer. “Just the ones I come to watch.”
“Then it’s a good thing you don’t travel with the team.”
He coiled the extension cord he’d brought and dumped it into the box with his tools. “Are you sure you don’t want me to add a little piece of trim to the front edges of those shelves and dividers? It wouldn’t—”
“I can’t afford anything fancy. And no,” she said, holding up a hand to halt the argument she knew was coming, “you’re not going to toss it in for free. You’ve already spent way more time on this than I’d figured. I can’t take advantage of your generosity like that.”
“You don’t seem to mind taking my free game passes,” he said with a wink. “Of course, I don’t mind handing them out to such a pretty fan.”
“I am a fan.” She walked willingly into the arms he’d spread wide and wrapped her arms around his waist. “And it’s not just ’cause you’re a terrific ballplayer.”
“I’m a mighty terrific carpenter, too.”
“Yes, you are.” She rested the side of her face against his warm T-shirt, listening to the strong, steady beat of his heart. “And a fine human being.”
Beneath her cheek, his chest raised and lowered on a long sigh. And then he lifted a hand and softly stroked her hair. “I’m not usually one to find fault with such a nicely phrased compliment, but when a woman starts lumping me in with humanity in general, I have to wonder if I’ve slipped a couple of notches in her list of priorities.”
Addie stilled. “I don’t know what to say.”
“You know, my daddy has a saying for just about every situation you could name. Right about now he’d probably say, ‘You can put your boots in the oven, but that don’t make ’em biscuits.’”
She laughed and drew away, gazing up at Mick’s smiling face. “I love your Texas sayings.”
“But not the man saying them. It’s all right, Addie girl.” He gently grabbed her arms when she tried to pull out of his. “I figured this talk’s been coming on for quite some time now
. I knew it for sure when I saw you with Dev Chandler.”
Mick released her, and she backed away, shaking her head in denial. “You said yourself I don’t like him much.”
“No, I asked you how you feel about him.”
“And I told you he brings out the worst in me.”
“Ever ask yourself why that is?”
“It’s…there’s…” She huffed out an impatient breath. “I don’t want to think about it. Not tonight, anyway.”
She stepped in closer to Mick and placed her palms against his chest. “I wish things had worked out differently. Why can’t things be simpler?”
“Not even my daddy would have a saying to answer that question.” Mick took her hands in his. “Going to join me for a drink after the game?”
“You buying?”
“Tell you what. If I don’t hit a homer, the drinks are on me. But if I do, lady, you owe me a beer.”
She smiled and nodded. “It’s a deal.”
He squeezed her hands and let her go.
Addie waited as he finished loading his toolbox, followed him to her door and then tipped up on her toes to brush a goodbye kiss across his cheek. “See you later, Mick.”
He stepped outside and walked to his truck, a big, handsome man with broad shoulders, an easy gait and a way of making a woman feel cherished. She stood at her window, watching him drive away, and waited for her heart to break, just a little.
But nothing happened. One dark blast from the past had proved she’d been fooling herself. She couldn’t wish deeper emotions into existence.
Or wish them into disappearing.
CHAPTER SIX
WHEN THE BELL OVER HER DOOR jangled early Sunday afternoon, Addie glanced up from a repair on an oval door window, hoping to see a customer. Instead, Charlie charged inside, a wide grin on her face. “I found a dress!”
“Let me see.” Addie grabbed the tattered magazine page Charlie pulled from her jeans pocket and straightened it over a clean space beside the window. “Oh, it’s you. It’s absolutely you. I love it.”
“I do, too.” Charlie dropped onto one of Addie’s work stools. “I thought I’d never find anything that wasn’t poofy or frilly or lacy or shiny, or too long or too tight or too—”
“I know.” Addie smiled. “I’ve been there.” She studied the picture more closely, admiring the simple A-line chiffon with darling capped sleeves and subtle detailing on a modest bodice. “But this is beautiful. Perfect. Definitely worth all the looking.”
“If you say so.” Charlie took back the page, staring at the model and worrying her lower lip. “At least it doesn’t cost as much as most of those gowns. What a waste of—”
“You only get to be a bride once in your life. And Maudie will only get to be the mother of the bride once in hers. She said she wanted to spoil you—let her do it.” Addie stepped behind Charlie to peer over her shoulder at the gown. “Has she seen this yet?”
“She’s the one who found it.”
“Go, Maudie.”
“Yeah. She’s been freaked out I’d never find anything I liked in time for the wedding.” Charlie ran a finger over a crease. “I wonder what Tess will think.”
“The same thing I do.” Addie wrapped her arms around her friend’s shoulders and gave her a happy, excited hug. “She’ll think it’s gorgeous. And you’ll be gorgeous in it.”
Charlie snorted. “All I care about is that I’ll be wearing a fancy white dress, and now everyone can breathe a sigh of relief.”
“You’ve still got to decide on a veil, if you’re wearing one. And how you’ll fix your hair. And shoes—you’ll need to find some special shoes.”
“Come on, let me off the hook for the rest of the day, will you? You can start nagging me about all that other stuff tomorrow.” Charlie folded the page, leaned to the side and stuffed it into her pocket. “I heard the Wildcats won their game last night.”
“It wasn’t even close.” Addie moved back to her work stool and picked up her soldering iron. “Mick hit another home run.”
Charlie leaned her elbows on the table and waggled her eyebrows. “Did he hit one after the game, too?”
“Not exactly.” Addie brushed flux over the joint and then touched the iron to the solder, melting the metal before scrubbing it away. She dreaded disappointing Charlie on the day she’d decided on her wedding dress. “I don’t think we’ll be seeing each other again. Not socially, anyway.”
“Aw, Addie.” Charlie blew out a long, unhappy sigh. “What happened? Did you two have a fight?”
“No.” Addie ran the iron over a curve, melting another joint. “There wasn’t anything much to fight about—that was part of the problem.” She wiped the tip of the iron on the little chunk of wet sponge on the holder, watching a wisp of steam rise and tiny spatters of molten solder skitter across the blackened surface. “No heat.”
“But you two were such a good couple.”
“We were, weren’t we?” Addie picked up her brush and scrubbed bits of metal from the caming, remembering the first time she’d seen Mick—loping out to left field, wearing the sun on his hair and a grin on his face. Making an amazing catch, making her heart skip with possibilities. “He’s such a sweetheart. I wish I could have talked myself into loving him. But the harder I tried, the more I knew I wasn’t being fair to either of us.”
“You’re feeling this way because Dev’s back in town, aren’t you?” Charlie jumped from her stool to pace around the worktable. “This is all his doing, isn’t it?”
“No,” Addie said after a second’s hesitation. “Not exactly.”
“What do you mean, exactly?”
“He came in yesterday, while Mick was here fixing my storage bins.”
“Sounds like something he’d pull.”
“Charlie.” Addie set down her brush with a sigh. “He didn’t know Mick would be here. He didn’t even know about Mick.”
Embarrassment and regret washed through Addie as she remembered how quickly Dev had figured things out. How flustered and confused and clumsy she’d felt as he stood there, staring at her in that curious way. How her reactions to Dev’s presence must have hurt Mick, if only a little.
She’d relived those moments, over and over, through the night and again this morning. And wondered what she was going to do—how she was going to deal with Dev if he suspected she was attracted to him.
“That’s no excuse.” Charlie squinted with suspicion. “What was Dev doing here in the first place?”
“He came to check on the window repair.”
“Is that what he told you?”
“Yes.”
Charlie threw her arms wide. “And you believed him?”
“Why shouldn’t I?”
“Because he won’t leave you alone, and he always hurts you. He’s always been nothing but trouble for you.”
Addie leaned forward, fisting a hand over her heart. “I made that trouble for myself.” And oh, how the truth hurt. It punched her in the stomach and stung her eyes. But it was time she faced it and dealt with it. She’d cocooned herself in layer upon layer of daydreams about an impossible future with a man who’d never—not once, in all these years—shown any real interest in her.
“You’re defending him,” Charlie pointed out, “just like you always do. The same way you stick up for everybody.”
Addie struggled to get her response past the hot knot in her throat. “You make me sound like a doormat.”
“No, that’s not what I meant.” Charlie strode toward the nearest counter. “But you’ve always been too nice for your own good. Too generous, too patient. Always looking for the best in everyone. Good ol’ Addie, every—”
Charlie cut her rant short when she turned and caught Addie dashing away a tear. “Oh, Addie, I didn’t mean it,” she said, rushing around the table to wrap her in a clumsy hug. “You’re rotten. Rotten to the core. Most of the time, I hate your guts.”
Addie sputtered through a choking laugh. “You’re ju
st saying that to be nice.”
“Nice? Me?” Charlie gave Addie’s shoulders a squeeze. “Now I know you’re upset.”
Addie sniffed hugely and shook her head. “I’m not as upset as I should be. About Mick, I mean. And that tells me I did the right thing.”
“If you say so.”
Charlie dragged a stool closer to Addie and took a seat. “I wish there was something I could do.”
“I appreciate that.”
“Yeah, well, you’d appreciate it a lot more if I actually did something other than make you cry.”
“You didn’t make me cry. I did that to myself. And I feel much better now.” Addie sucked in a deep, cleansing breath and then rubbed a hand over Charlie’s shoulder. “And you’re here, keeping me company on your day off and listening to all my troubles. You’re a good friend. I’m lucky to have you.”
“There you go again.” Charlie shook her head. “Comforting someone who doesn’t need it as much as you do.”
“We could talk about what kind of a veil would match that dress. And hairstyles.” Addie scrubbed her cheeks with the heels of her hands. “That would cheer me up.”
“Good ol’ Addie.” Charlie scowled. “Always looking for a silver lining.”
THOUGH MONDAY MORNINGS didn’t necessarily start a new workweek for Dev—particularly during term breaks—he’d decided long ago to treat them that way.
Sort of. Sometimes.
So it was with a number of worthwhile intentions that he rolled out of bed an hour after his alarm went off. Lingering over his morning coffee, he enjoyed the first several chapters of a novel he’d picked up in the bookstore near the marina. After a long, steamy shower, he stretched his legs with a hike down to the beach before raiding Julia’s pantry for brunch supplies. By the time noon arrived, he was primed to be productive: to make a meaningful start on that story he planned to finish by summer’s end.
But first he’d make a trip to town. Knowing there were errands to be done could trash a writer’s concentration and interfere with story development.
Especially errands like this one. When a guy couldn’t get a woman out of his mind, that was a huge distraction. The worst kind of interference with the creative process, Dev told himself as he turned a corner and started down Cove Street toward A Slice of Light.
A Small-Town Reunion Page 6
