“You need a bounce house?” Gage downed the rest of his now lukewarm coffee.
“I almost forgot about that. Yes.”
“I know a guy in Montrose. I’ll give him a call. What else can I do?”
Blakely took a deep breath and smiled, her blue eyes glistening with unshed tears. Probably just hormones, though it still made him uncomfortable. “You guys are amazing. Honestly, I was only coming in here for a cinnamon roll. But you’ve encouraged me so much.” She wiped at a tear. “With the three of us working together, I know we can make this the best fall festival yet.”
Together? Gage had no problem with Blakely. But Celeste?
Working on the space above the restaurant, he could do. After all, with Celeste running the restaurant, how involved could she really be in the day-to-day grunt work? But working alongside her on the festival when they butted heads like a couple of bighorn sheep?
What had he gotten himself into?
* * *
Gage was the last person Celeste wanted to see this morning. While she was more than grateful for his help last night, she was also embarrassed. What must he think of her, passing out on his porch in her pajamas—princess pajamas, no less—behaving like a crazed drama queen and then falling asleep on his daughter’s bed? He probably believed she was downright loony.
And now they’d be working together on a festival? God, You definitely have a sense of humor.
“I still have to wrap my brain around all that needs to be done, then I’ll lay out a plan of action.” Blakely’s blue eyes moved from Gage to Celeste. “Think we could meet in a day or two?”
“Should be fine.” Gage seemed less than enthused about the prospect.
“Sure.” Celeste scanned the restaurant, all too aware that she needed to see to her customers. “Now, about that cinnamon roll?”
“That would make my day, Celeste.”
She turned in the order before returning her attention to Gage. “How about you? Another roll? Some protein, maybe? Eggs?”
“No, I’m good. I need to get a move on.” He grabbed the pan of rolls and shoved out of his chair. “How much do I owe you?”
“Not a thing. I’m indebted to you for putting up with me last night.”
“I guess we’re even then.” He turned, then stopped. “My contact info is in the file. Just let me know what you decide.”
“I will. Thanks again, Gage.” Relief washed over her when he walked out the door. If his estimate fit her budget, she was ready to give him the green light and get her “suite” dreams on the path to becoming a reality.
When she looked back at Blakely, her friend was wearing a nice little smirk. “So, just what did Gage have to ‘put up with’ last night?”
Celeste’s cheeks grew warm. “Nothing like you’re thinking.” She removed Gage’s dishes, grabbed a rag from the sink beneath the counter and began wiping.
“Oh?” The arch of Blakely’s brow had Celeste blushing all the more. “And what am I thinking?”
She halted her cleaning. “Why did nobody tell me that bears roam around town at night?”
Blakely’s expression shifted to one of concern. “Why? What happened?”
“I had a close encounter with one in my garage.”
“Oh, no. What did you do?”
“I left, of course.” She tossed the rag back into the sink and leaned against the counter. “And discovered that Gage lives across the street from me.”
Blakely laughed. “What? Did he hear you screaming?”
“I didn’t scream.”
“Order up.”
She grabbed Blakely’s order, eyeing the two alongside it. “I banged on his door.” Without waiting for a response, she snagged the other orders and was on her way. Not so eager to hear what Blakely had to say next, she refilled coffee cups, delivered tickets and took someone’s money at the register while her friend ate.
“I forgot to ask how your meeting went yesterday.” Blakely licked a blob of frosting from her fork.
Thank goodness they were off the topic of bears. “Not bad. At least he has an appreciation for historical architecture.”
“Do you think you’re going to hire him?” There went that grin again.
“Possibly. I can’t say for certain until I see his quote.” No point in feeding Blakely’s sudden impulse to match her up with Gage. Celeste had no interest in being paired with anyone. Least of all, Gage Purcell.
For a Tuesday morning, Granny’s Kitchen had enjoyed a steady stream of customers, punctuated by the lunchtime arrival of a busload of senior citizens on a fall foliage tour. Finally, at two fifteen, Celeste had an opportunity to sit down in her office with a chicken salad sandwich and Gage’s quote.
Munching on a potato chip, she opened the folder. A detailed spreadsheet showed costs for everything from demolition to labor to materials, as well as estimates for plumbing and electrical. She reviewed the three pages, making note of the lengthy list of variables. Things that could potentially occur that would affect the cost and length of the project.
By the time she got to the end, she feared the project might be out of her reach. So she was pleasantly surprised by Gage’s bottom line. Not to mention the estimated completion date—January 1.
Bowing her head, she sent up a brief prayer of thanks. She knew God would send her the right contractor. Now she prayed that God would grant her the grace to overlook Gage’s sometimes surly disposition. Especially when it came to her input and expectations.
Finished with her meal, she pulled Gage’s business card from the folder. The sooner she gave him the go-ahead, the sooner he could start.
She picked up her cell phone.
“Celeste?” Karla poked her graying head around the corner. “Health inspector’s here.”
“Now?” She’d been anticipating a visit. And while she had nothing to hide, the timing could have been better.
By the time the inspector—who was very friendly, though a bit chatty—left, Celeste needed to set up for dinner. Thanks to Karla, the Mexican rice was simmering and enchiladas were in the oven, so tonight’s special was covered.
Celeste gave the fifty-something woman a hug. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Karla.”
“That’s quite all right, hon. I didn’t do anything you wouldn’t do yourself.”
Keeping one eye on the restaurant via the pass-through, Celeste grabbed a stack of red plastic baskets and lined each with a wax paper sheet so they’d be ready for tortilla chips later. Granny’s Kitchen always had more guests on enchilada night, so she wanted to be prepared. Next, she placed a stack of small bowls beside the baskets. They’d be needed for the salsa she made earlier in the day.
The door swung open then and two little blond-haired girls entered.
Celeste’s heart lightened as she rounded into the dining room.
“Celeste!” Cassidy and Emma cheered in unison when they saw her, sending her over the moon with delight.
She gave them each a hug, scanning the area outside for signs of their father.
“We want cupcakes.” Emma climbed onto a bar stool.
“No, Emma.” Her sister did likewise, though with more finesse. “It’s a cupcake class.”
“Oh, you mean you want to sign up for Cupcake Mania?” Celeste moved Emma to the center of her seat so she wouldn’t fall off.
“Uh-huh.” Emma’s head bobbed emphatically.
Celeste again watched for Gage. “Where’s your father?”
“He’s at the hardware store.” Cassidy adjusted the plastic headband that held her long hair away from her face. “But he said we could see if you were here.”
Something about that statement made her feel warm and fuzzy. “Well, I’m so glad you did.” She contemplated offering them a cookie, but
decided against it since it was almost dinnertime.
“It smells good in here.” As if to prove her point, Emma took a deep breath through her nose.
“Well, thank you.” She patted the child’s back. “That’s always a good thing in a restaurant.”
“Can we eat here?” Emma looked at her, very matter-of-factly.
“I, uh...well...” Where are you, Gage? “That would be up to your father. But I’d certainly love to have you.” Boy, she needed to stay on her toes around this little one. “So, did your daddy tell you about the cupcake class?”
“No. My friend Bella said she was coming and that I should come, too.”
“And me,” Emma was quick to inject.
Out of the corner of her eye, Celeste saw Gage walk past the front windows.
He held the door open for Rose Daniels and Florence Griffin. “Ladies.”
The two elderly women were always first in on enchilada night. Although Celeste wasn’t sure if either one of them actually believed themselves to be elderly. They had more spunk and spirit than people half their age.
“Good evening, ladies.” She snagged two menus from beside the cash register.
“You can put those away, Celeste.” Rose, Blakely’s grandmother and one of Granny’s best friends, approached the counter. “Florence and I know exactly what we want.”
“Gage, these girls of yours are growing like weeds.” Florence fluffed her silvery hair, her hazel eyes bouncing between Cassidy and Emma.
“They sure are.” Gage took off his ball cap and ran a hand through his dark hair. “I don’t suppose you ladies could give me any pointers on how to prevent that, could you?”
Both women chuckled.
“Just enjoy them while you can,” said Florence.
“It was hard to tell you two youngsters from the big girls at Taryn’s wedding.” Rose’s smile reached her warm blue eyes as she regarded the girls. “Did you like getting all dressed up?”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Cassidy.
“I likeded the cake best.” Leave it to Emma to speak her mind.
Celeste tucked the menus back in their place and followed the women to their usual booth at the center window, so they wouldn’t miss anything that might happen outside. “Two enchilada platters then?”
Rose unwrapped the silverware from her napkin, her gaze flitting toward the counter. “Gage always was a handsome one. And there’s nothing quite as attractive as a loving father.” She looked up at Celeste, the corner of her mouth lifted. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
Celeste dared a glance in Gage’s direction. “I—I’ve never really thought about it.” Though whenever he was with his daughters or even just talked about them, she saw him in a different light.
Rose studied her for a moment, as though sizing her up. Something Celeste found oddly uncomfortable. “Yes, the enchiladas and an iced tea for me.”
She turned to the other woman.
“I’ll have tea, too.” Florence laid her napkin in her lap.
“All right, then. I’ll be back in a sec.” Celeste dropped off their order, added chips to a basket and salsa to a bowl, then filled two clear plastic cups with fresh-brewed iced tea and topped them with a lemon wedge. After delivering them to Rose and Florence, she made her way back to Gage and the girls.
“Daddy, Celeste said she’d love it if we’d eat here. So can we? Please...?”
Heat crept up Celeste’s neck. She was tempted to clarify Emma’s statement, but refrained.
“Well, given the fact that I haven’t even thought about dinner and enchiladas sound really good, I suppose we could stay.”
Cassidy sent her father a look that was far too serious for a seven-year-old. “Don’t forget about the cupcake class.”
“Oh, yeah.” He looked at Celeste. “I need to sign these two munchkins up for Cupcake Mania.”
“Great.” She reached behind her for the notepad she used for registration. “We are going to have so much fun.” She wrote down their names, eyeing Emma and Cassidy. “So what’s your favorite cake flavor?”
“Chocolate!”
“Strawberry.” Though her blue eyes were wide with excitement, Cassidy’s response was much more subdued than her sister’s. She was definitely the more insightful of the two. Not quick to act. She pondered things.
“In that case, there should be something for both of you.” She rang up the registrations. “I’m glad they’re coming.”
Gage pulled out his wallet and handed her the payment. “Once Cassidy got wind of it from her friend at school, there was no other option.”
She peered up at him. “I looked over your estimate.”
His sapphire eyes seemed to smile with anticipation, unleashing an odd sensation inside her. Perhaps it was Rose’s words that had her off-kilter, but she suddenly found herself second-guessing her decision to hire him. Not only did he challenge her plans and opinions, she had the strangest feeling he posed a threat to her heart.
Yet before she could think better of it, the words tumbled out of her mouth.
“How soon can you start?”
Chapter Five
Gage scanned the dark, narrow space above Granny’s Kitchen, the thrill of another transformation pumping through his veins. He loved every new job and the prospect of what lay ahead. Repurposing old buildings was a lot like mining. You never knew what might be hiding just beneath the surface. Buried treasure? Or something that should have remained hidden?
After getting the go-ahead from Celeste Tuesday evening, he and Logan Hancock, his hired helper, came in Wednesday to take out all of the furniture, the bathroom sinks, toilets and bathtubs. Today the real work began.
Since they were going to reuse the original trim, they had to remove all of the old millwork before they could take down any walls. That took time, carefully unseating each piece from its century-old resting place, then sorting, labeling and stacking it to be used later. If they didn’t do things right, they’d be left with a lot of heartbreak, splintered wood and a large bill at the lumberyard.
Fortunately, he’d done enough renovations to master what was once a daunting task. And Logan was getting there. Armed with pry bars and hammers, Logan tackled one of the guest rooms while Gage completed the foyer and hallway. He was starting on another of the guest rooms when he heard Celeste call his name.
“In here.”
Decked out in her high heels and a pair of dressy gray slacks, Celeste tiptoed through the dust and debris. He relished the sight, storing it in his mind’s eye, ready to pull out whenever the all-too-perfect image of a sleeping, nurturing Celeste decided to taunt him.
Appearing a bit confused, she looked at him. “There are still walls.”
Though a statement, he didn’t miss the underlying question.
“Yes.” He glanced at the obvious. “Yes, there are.”
“But I thought you were going to remove them.”
“Eventually. If we do that first, though, we risk damaging the millwork.”
Her mouth formed an O as realization dawned.
He picked up a baseboard, turning it over to the unfinished side. “Look at this hundred-year-old hardwood.” Stepping closer, he smoothed a calloused hand over the surface. “You won’t find wood of this quality these days.”
“Why not?” Her espresso eyes were filled with wonder.
“The trees they used for timber were a lot older back then.” He pointed to the dense grain. “See how tight these rings are?” He knocked it with his knuckles. “This is some hard wood.”
A smile played at the corners of her mouth. “That’s good, right?”
“Very good.”
She stepped back. “Say, uh, on your quote, you had an estimated completion date of January 1. Do you still stand by that?”
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Sooner, if he had his way. “Barring anything unforeseen.”
Her smile grew bigger. “Good.” She scanned the tiny room with its worn-out emerald green carpet and he wondered if it was simply a parting glance or if she planned to change something. “I guess I’ll let you get back to work then.” Turning, she disappeared into the hall.
That was easy. He shoved the pry bar behind another molding. He halfway expected her to tell him how to do his job or want to help. Maybe it was a good thing she dressed the way she did.
He’d barely pried the wood loose when Celeste appeared again.
“Are you keeping track of which trim goes where?”
He should have known better than to think he’d get off without some questions. “We label every piece.”
“And your helper is doing the same thing?”
Letting go of the pry bar, he stood. “Logan knows what he’s doing. I wouldn’t keep him around if he didn’t.”
“Good. Good.” Her gaze traveled down the hall. “Where are you putting the wood?
He pinched the bridge of his nose. Help me, Lord. “For now, we’re stacking it in one of the other rooms. I don’t want to put it outside and risk getting it wet.”
Her brow furrowed. “No, I suppose not.” She remained silent and he feared what might be going on in that pretty head of hers.
“Anything else?” He knelt again, his hammer at the ready.
Her lips pursed as she shook her head. “Not that I can think of.” She shrugged. “Carry on.” With that she was gone. Though this time he waited until he heard the door close to resume working.
Energized by a healthy dose of country music, he completed two more guest rooms before Celeste interrupted him again, shortly before lunch. She coughed as she approached, waving a hand in front of her face.
He finished marking the door trim that was in his hand. “This is nothing. The dust will really be flying once we start knocking down walls.”
She stood in the threshold of the tiny guest room that faced Main Street. The late morning sun filtered through the windows, highlighting a million tiny particles hovering in the room. “And when might that be happening?”
A Father's Second Chance (Contemporay Christian Romance) Page 5
