A Father's Second Chance (Contemporay Christian Romance)

by Mindy Obenhaus

  It had taken all day to move everything—from tables and chairs to pots and pans, work tables, dishes and just about anything that wasn’t nailed down—from the restaurant into a portable storage pod. Her muscles had never been so sore. She collapsed into bed that night, her mind numb.

  When she awoke Tuesday morning, all she could think about was the fact that Granny’s Kitchen would be closed at least through the rest of the week. Then she’d be faced with another grueling day when they moved everything back.

  Good thing she was meeting with Blakely and Gage today to discuss preparations for the fall festival. Perhaps planning for that would help keep her mind off the restaurant.

  Since her body clock woke her up at five thirty, she decided to continue her daily ritual and make a batch of cinnamon rolls. Who knew that making cinnamon rolls had such healing power? Eating them, yes, but making them had never felt so good. Easing the kinks out of her weary muscles. And her condo smelled amazing.

  Three pans of rolls were a bit much to carry, though, so she opted to drive to Blakely’s house. Besides, with temps hovering in the upper thirties, despite the bright sunshine, the rolls would have been stone-cold by the time she arrived.

  Pulling up to the pretty Dutch Colonial, she pondered the rest of her week. This afternoon she planned to become one with her phone and make some real headway on donations and festival volunteers. Beyond that, she didn’t have a clue.

  She slung the small tote bag holding her notes and iPad tablet over her shoulder and grabbed the still-warm cinnamon rolls from the passenger seat before exiting the vehicle. The fall colors that lined the street were exceptionally beautiful in the morning sun. The vivid gold and orange hues were breathtakingly vibrant.

  Her gaze drifted up the mountain, sparking an idea. She should take a drive one day this week. Maybe head down to the old mining town of Ironton. Do a little exploring, take some pictures and enjoy the outdoors for a change.

  Gage pulled up behind her then, extinguishing every thought from her brain and sending her heart into a little tap dance.

  “Is that what I think it is?” Gage pointed to the foil-covered pans she carried.

  “Depends. If you’re thinking cinnamon rolls, you’d be correct.” Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t help smiling.

  He took two of the pans as they started up the walk. “Ooh, and they’re warm. Even better.”

  “Since our pregnant friend has been craving them, I thought she’d appreciate it. She can keep them in the freezer and heat them up as she likes.”

  Gage turned her way, looking suddenly forlorn. “Don’t tell me they’re all for Blakely.”

  “You’re worse than a kid.” She climbed the three concrete steps that led to the porch. “But no, one pan is for sharing.” She knocked on the door.

  Blakely swung the door open. “Hey, guys. Come on in.”

  “I think Celeste here is vying for Taryn’s best-friend spot.” Gage gestured toward the pans.

  Blakely turned a surprised smile to the other woman. “You brought me cinnamon rolls?”

  “The restaurant is going to be closed for a week. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for sending you into labor or anything.”

  “I’m not worried about that, though I might not be fit to live with.” Blakely led them across beautiful dark hardwood floors into the spacious kitchen. “You can set them here.” She motioned to the granite-topped island, then proceeded to grab plates and forks.

  Setting them alongside the pans, Blakely grimaced, reaching for the small of her back. Much the way she had during their meeting last week.

  “You okay?” Concern littered Gage’s expression.

  “Yeah.” Blakely smiled again. “These stupid contractions didn’t bother me at all this weekend, but they started up again this morning.” She pulled the foil from one of the pans and took a plate from the stack. “This should make me feel better, though.”

  “You have a beautiful home.” Celeste took in the adjoining family room, the rustic beams overhead. “Great fireplace.” She’d always been a fan of stone fireplaces.

  “Thank you.” Blakely spoke around a bite of roll.

  A few minutes later, they gathered around the kitchen table to go over assignments and progress updates.

  Blakely’s brow furrowed as she opened her notebook, and Celeste wondered if she was having another one of those pains.

  “I scheduled our workday for this Saturday, like we discussed. Gage, if you can have those cutouts ready, we’ll have the volunteers paint them.”

  “I plan to start working on them this afternoon.”

  “How many volunteers do you have?” Celeste tugged the tablet from her bag and set it on the table.

  “For the workday, eight to ten.” Blakely turned to Gage. “By the way, Taryn said she should be able to help.”

  “Oh, so you talked to the newlywed.” He grinned.

  “She called shortly before you guys got here. She was a little surprised to hear all that transpired in the week that she and Cash were in Belize on their honeymoon, but she’s more than happy to volunteer.”

  “Yeah, I figured we’d be able to count on her.” He reached for a third roll. Not that Celeste was counting. “I talked to my friend about the inflatables and we’re all set. I’m scheduled to pick them up that Friday before the festival.”

  “Wonderful.”

  Celeste folded the cover back on her tablet and called up the spreadsheet she’d assembled. “And I spoke with one of my suppliers. They’re willing to donate burgers and hot dogs.”

  Blakely’s jaw dropped. “How on earth did you manage that? The dogs are easy, I know, but we usually end up having to buy the burgers.”

  “I simply asked.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Must have been your gorgeous smile then.” Blakely’s laugh morphed into a groan.

  “Are you sure those contractions are false?” Gage eyed their friend suspiciously. “Because they’re coming every six minutes.”

  “Six minutes?” Panic flitted across Blakely’s face. “But I’m not due for another twenty-seven days.”

  His gaze fell to her swollen belly. “Then I think somebody’s planning an early arrival.”

  A myriad of emotions played across Blakely’s face. “I guess I’d better call Trent.” She stood and retrieved the phone from the counter. “But if this is real, you know what that means.”

  Gage sent her an annoyed glance. “That you’d better get to the hospital?”

  “No. It means you two are in charge of the festival.”

  Celeste’s cinnamon roll turned to lead in her stomach. She and Gage working together? Alone?

  You’re a professional. You can do this. After all, you’ve worked with Martha Zane, aka Cruella de Vil.

  Yes, but while Martha, a former coworker, went for the jugular, Gage posed a different kind of threat. One Celeste had never faced before.

  An image played across her mind. Emma’s excitement when Celeste mentioned the festival Saturday night.

  Celeste took a deep breath. She had to do this for the kids. But she’d have to watch every step. Calculate every move. Because if she didn’t, her heart was a goner.

  And that was a risk she just couldn’t take.

  * * *

  In the essence of time, Gage offered to drive Blakely to meet Trent at the clinic in Ridgway. That would put them almost halfway to the hospital and shave off at least twenty minutes had Trent come back to Ouray to pick up his wife. In Gage’s experience, second babies were too unpredictable to waste time. He and Tracy had barely made it to the hospital before Emma decided to make her arrival.

  Now, as he drove back to Ouray, Celeste sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window. He’d asked her
to come with them, just in case something unexpected happened along the way, if not for moral support.

  She folded her hands in her lap. “Is autumn always so colorful around here?”

  “I suppose.” He looked out over the orange-and-gold-dotted rangeland. “I think we’ve about hit our peak, though.”

  “In that case—” she glanced his way “—I’m glad the restaurant is closed so I can enjoy it.”

  He chuckled. “Boy, I never thought I’d hear you say that. Don’t you have fall in Texas?” A legitimate question, since some parts of Texas were considered tropical.

  “Yes, but it’s rare that the colors are so vibrant. Even then, the leaves don’t really start falling until around Thanksgiving.”

  “That’s hard to imagine. We’re apt to have our first snowfall long before then.”

  She laughed. “Now that’s hard for me to imagine.” Shifting slightly, she angled toward him. “So it looks like we’re in charge of the fall festival.”

  “Yep.” He blew out a breath, not thrilled about the turn of events. Helping was one thing, taking on the whole kit and caboodle was another. Still, he’d hate to see his daughters disappointed.

  “You okay with that?” She continued to watch him, the pavement humming beneath the tires of his truck.

  “Guess I’ll have to be. Besides, God’s got a reason for everything, right?”

  “That He does.”

  “Well, I, for one, am glad He knows what He’s doing, because I sure don’t.”

  She reached to the floorboard then and pulled out her tablet. “With only two and a half weeks until the festival, I’ll admit that I’m more than a little nervous.” She lifted the cover and moved her finger around the screen. “According to my calculations, with more than a dozen booths to man over a four-hour period, at two people per one-hour shift, we’ll need almost a hundred volunteers. And that’s not including setup and teardown.”

  He darted a glance in his rearview mirror. “You do realize that some people will want to work more than one shift, don’t you?”

  “Perhaps, but, as of right now, we have zero volunteers.”

  “That’s not true. Blakely said Taryn’s willing to help and I know my mom will, too. So we’re at two.”

  “Nonetheless, we’re going to have to make some phone calls.” She pulled out a sheet of paper, tore it in half and handed one side to him. “Here’s a list of potential volunteers. With both of us contacting folks, we can get things done that much faster.”

  “Oh, no.” His grip tightened on the steering wheel. “Don’t include me in that. I have cutouts to work on. Besides, I’m not exactly a phone person.”

  “Gage, those cutouts can wait. Without volunteers, this festival won’t happen. That is, unless you plan to man every booth all by yourself.” An exaggerated smile accompanied her sarcasm.

  Was she trying to press his buttons? So she used to be some big corporate executive. That didn’t mean she was always right. “And if I don’t get these booths in order, there won’t be anything to man.” He looked at her now. “Which reminds me, I think I’ll pull into the park when we hit town so we can see about the layout.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You have got to be—Gage, look out!”

  He jerked his gaze forward as a bull elk darted in front of his truck. His foot slammed on the brakes, but it was too late. They were going to hit it.

  He yanked the steering wheel to the right. Tires squealed.

  They barely missed the animal. But the maneuver sent them careening into the ditch.

  The uneven ground thudded beneath them.

  Celeste let go a gasp.

  Instinctively, he thrust his right arm out to protect her from the impact.

  Air whooshed out of both their lungs as the vehicle jolted to a stop.

  Celeste’s tablet tumbled onto the floor.

  For a moment, they sat in stunned silence, only the rumble of the engine and their collective breaths echoing through the pickup’s cab.

  A groan from Celeste brought him to his senses. He hastily undid his seat belt and leaned across the center console.

  “Celeste?” Lord, please let her be okay.

  Her head lolled toward him, ratcheting his panic up another notch. A moment later, her dazed espresso eyes met his. “Did we hit it?”

  He let go a nervous laugh. “No. The elk is fine.”

  “Good.” A lazy smile crossed her lips. She straightened, hissing in a breath.

  “What is it? Are you hurt?” Heart pounding, he did a quick visual. What if she was injured? The impact could have broken a bone.

  “Stupid seat belt.” Reaching one hand to her neck, she used the other to unhook her belt.

  “Let me see.”

  She twisted enough for him to glimpse the raw, red area on the right side of her neck.

  He winced. “Yeah, that seat belt didn’t do you any favors.”

  “Except keep me from flying through the windshield.”

  He smiled. “I suppose there is that.”

  He carefully brushed her silky hair out of the way, tucking it behind her ear. She’d worn it down today, the golden waves spilling over her shoulders. Something he could get used to. Along with the jeans and cowboy boots. This was only the second time he’d seen her in anything other than business attire, the first being yesterday when they’d emptied the restaurant. He had to give Celeste credit. She was a hard worker. And, despite his earlier beliefs, she wasn’t afraid to get dirty.

  He forced himself to look at the wound.

  “It’s not bleeding.” His fingers grazed the back of her neck. Her skin was as soft as a rose petal. “But it’s probably going to sting for a while.”

  She nodded. “Um...what about you? Are you okay?” Her gaze flitted to his.

  “I think so. Though, I think we’ll both have a stiff neck tomorrow.” He knew he should move away, give her some space. Instead, he wanted to pull her into his arms and show her how glad he was that she was all right.

  Someone pounded on the driver’s side window just then, startling both him and Celeste.

  “You folks okay in there?”

  Gage turned around to find a man and woman staring at them. Talk about awkward. He felt like a teenager who just got caught parking with his girlfriend.

  He pushed the button to roll down the window, allowing cool air to filter into the cab. “Yeah. We’re fine.”

  “That sure was an impressive elk.” The man looked to be around seventy.

  Gage eyed the Oklahoma license plate on the RV parked behind him. “I’m afraid I didn’t get that good a look at him.”

  The man grinned. “No, I don’t s’pose you did.” He eyed Celeste.

  “We just wanted to make sure y’all weren’t hurt.” His wife’s face pressed closer to the window.

  “Bless your hearts. Y’all are so sweet.” Since when had Celeste turned into a Southern belle?

  “Well, it’s just the right neighborly thing to do,” said the woman.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  He dared a look and sure enough, Celeste was batting her eyes. Was she having fun with these people or genuinely appreciative? Not that he didn’t appreciate the couple checking on them. Bad things happened because too many people failed to get involved these days.

  “Come on, Marvadeen. We best be letting these two git on their way.” The man moved away from the truck.

  “Bye, y’all.” The woman waved.

  The moment Gage rolled up his window, he and Celeste burst out laughing.

  “Gotta love it,” he said.

  “Aw, they were cute, Gage.”

  “I don’t know about cute, but they were right neighborly.”

  “Stop.” She playfully swatted his arm.


  “You ready to head on back to town there, missy?” He applied his best Southern drawl. “Because I do believe we have some phone calls to make.”

  Chapter Eight

  Celeste parked her Mustang convertible across from Granny’s Kitchen Friday morning. Setting her boot-clad feet on the gravel, she exited and eyed the restaurant. Large dryer-type hoses were still attached to the upstairs windows, snaking their way to special industrial-sized HEPA filters, and plastic sheeting seemed to be everywhere.

  The fact that she couldn’t go inside to see what was happening did not set well. She could only pray that they’d be done soon.

  The sound of crunching gravel snagged her attention as Gage whipped his truck into the spot beside her. She’d successfully managed to avoid him since Wednesday, though the memories of their close encounter remained. The caring look in his deep blue eyes. The way he smelled, like soap and cinnamon.

  Then he’d spent the rest of the afternoon helping her make phone calls. By the time he’d left to pick up the girls, they had at least one person to cover every booth on every shift.

  She shook the memories away as he got out of his truck.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Same as you.” She folded her arms across her chest to ward against the morning chill. “Checking to see how things are going.”

  “And?”

  “I don’t know. I just got here.”

  His smile reached past her walls into her heart and shook out the kinks. “Let’s go find out then.”

  The project manager was on his cell phone but waved as they approached. “They’re right here, so I’ll let them know.” He ended the call and clipped the phone to the holder on his belt. “Good news. Our job is done.”

  “Excellent.” Gage’s smile mirrored her own.

  “That was the inspector on the phone.” The manager continued. “He’ll be out late this afternoon to take an air sample. With any luck, you’ll have your results early next week and be back in business.”

  Celeste wanted to jump for joy. “I can’t tell you how happy this makes me. Thank you for getting this done so quickly.”