by Debby Mayne
Copyright
ISBN 978-1-59789-623-8
Copyright © 2007 by Debby Mayne. All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the permission of Truly Yours, an imprint of Barbour Publishing, Inc., PO Box 721, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683.
All of the characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental.
Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses.
One
Three things in life made Jill crazy: serious people with so many rules they couldn’t relax, panty hose, and a checkbook that wouldn’t balance. And here she was, ten dollars short. She’d been staring at the same numbers all morning, scratching her head and chugging coffee so strong it could walk.
She didn’t have to worry about serious people because she worked alone. Panty hose were unnecessary in her business. That left only one thing to annoy her. With money as tight as it was, she couldn’t afford to be relaxed with her finances. She chewed on the end of her pencil as she perused the numbers again—but with no success.
The bells jingled as the front door opened and closed. Jill glanced up, still in a daze from the numbers that didn’t balance, but she forced a smile.
“May I help you with something?” She could barely see him since the sunshine was streaming in the front window behind him. As he came closer, she saw his outdoorsy good looks with short, streaked blond hair, light eyes—were they gray or light blue?—she couldn’t quite tell in this lighting—and a natural-looking tan.
He glanced at a slip of paper. “I’m looking for Jill Hargrove.” Then he turned to her. “Is she in?” She couldn’t help but notice his soft Georgia accent.
Jill lifted one eyebrow. “You’re looking at her.” This guy sure was cute.
He nodded and extended his hand, which she took only briefly. “I’m Ed Mathis.” He stepped back and looked around for a moment before turning to her again. “This is the Junk-tique Shoppe, right?”
“Right.” This guy didn’t look anything like what she’d expected. “You’re Ed the handyman?”
“Yep. I’m here to fix whatever needs fixin’. Anything that’s broken.” His eyes crinkled as he smiled.
Jill had expected a much older man, someone with years of experience. Someone who didn’t look as if he’d just stepped off the page of a men’s catalog. Someone she could work alongside without thinking about how handsome he was.
He gazed around and let out a low chuckle. “Looks like you’ve got yourself quite a mess here.”
Hmm. Jill loved her mess—her collectibles—and she didn’t need anyone else calling her place a mess. Suddenly she felt defensive, something that reminded her of worse times, and an awful feeling washed over her. He obviously couldn’t tell the difference between vintage collectibles and what he called “a mess.” She didn’t need negativism. She’d give him a quick and easy job to do and then call the service she’d planned on calling in the first place. The guy in the business next door had meant well when he recommended Ed, but she didn’t need someone to judge her and plant seeds of doubt about her lifelong dream.
“Okay,” Jill said, looking away. “Let’s start with the shelves in the back room. They’re about to collapse.” That should take a competent handyman a day or two; then she could send him packing.
He nodded. “Let me take a look at ’em.”
“C’mon back.” She kept her voice calm, but his presence was unnerving.
Jill heard his boots clicking behind her on the hardwood floor. She felt self-conscious in the tattered jeans and ratty T-shirt she’d grabbed on the run this morning. She lifted her hand to the back of her head where her hair had fallen loose from the clip.
“There they are.” Jill gestured toward the lopsided shelves she’d installed for extra storage. Ceramic and glass pieces were perched precariously on the shelves, which looked ready to come crashing to the floor at any moment.
Ed whistled and shook his head. “I can tell you now what the problem is. You put too much weight on ’em.”
Jill took a step back, placed her hand on her hip, and glared at him. “Excuse me?”
He nodded toward the shelves. “I said, you put too much weight on these shelves.”
“I need them for storage. Can you fix them or not?”
He stood still when his gaze met hers, then turned and stared at the wall supporting the shelves before turning back to face her. “I s’pose I could give ’em some support so they can hold all your junk, if you wanna keep piling it on.”
“That’s not all junk,” she said. “Some of it’s collectible.”
Jill hadn’t been sure what to do with these things she’d gotten when bidding on an entire garage filled with Depression glass that was surrounded by. . .junk. Yes, Ed was right, but she couldn’t let him know she agreed. Besides, he’d caught her at a very bad time. She was in a lousy mood from the checkbook that wouldn’t balance.
“Just do whatever you have to do to fix it,” she said. She knew she didn’t sound friendly, but this was not a good time.
Ed snorted. “You treat your customers this way?” His look of intense scrutiny caused her to reach up and fidget with her hair again. She knew she must look as if she’d tangled with a bear. “Cuz if you do, they won’t keep coming back.”
She paused before sniffing and looking him in the eye. “Don’t worry about it, Ed. My customers and I get along just fine.”
He turned and headed for the door.
“Can you do it?” she called after him.
“Yeah. I just have to go out to my truck for more tools. This job requires more than I can carry on my belt.”
“This is not going to work out,” Jill mumbled to herself when she was alone. She went to the showroom, straightened a few items, then went behind the checkout counter and moved several things around on the desk. She wondered why Ed was taking so long.
Jill wandered out from behind the desk and glanced out the front window. She saw him pulling an extension ladder from the back of his truck. Then she quickly scurried behind the desk.
The phone rang. “I see Ed made it there.” It was Josh Anderson, the neighbor who’d recommended him.
“Yeah, he’s here.”
“Ed Mathis is the best handyman in the whole Atlanta area,” Josh said. “He did quite a bit of renovation in Sandy Springs and Marietta. You’ll like his work.”
She let out a long sigh. “I’m sure I will. Thanks, Josh.”
When Jill got off the phone, Ed returned. “Okay if I prop this door open?” he asked.
“Uh, sure.”
Ed fidgeted with the door and figured out a way to make it stay open so he could bring things in from his truck, while Jill straightened some pieces on the shelves. Seconds later, he came walking into the store with the ladder balanced at his side.
“Better be careful with that,” she said. “I have some fragile things in here, and I’ll—.” She stopped short of saying she’d have to charge him. She didn’t want to sound mean.
“Don’t worry,” he said as he went into the back room and extended the ladder, leaning it against the wall. “I’ll be careful. Want to help me get these things out of the way, or are you too busy?”
Without hesitation, Jill was at his side, holding out her hands, reaching for the oversized ceramic rooster he’d lifted from the top shelf. “That piece is very fragile.”
Ed snickered. “If you’d left all this stuff up here much longer on the shelves the way they are n
ow, your fragile junk would be in bits and pieces on the floor. I’m surprised it’s not already. Now, are you gonna help me find another spot for it so I can fix these shelves, or shall I do it myself?”
“I’ll help.”
It took them the better part of an hour to get everything down. The anchors she’d tried to brace the shelves with had pulled from the wall, and the toggle bolts were fully exposed and hanging out of the holes in the drywall.
Ed laughed as he pulled the shelves away from the wall. “Whoever put up these shelves didn’t know what he was doing.”
“For your information, I installed these shelves myself, and I’m not in the mood for your insults.”
His shoulders sagged. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to come across as insulting.”
The bells jingled again. “Customer,” she said quickly and hurried away.
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him watching her for a few seconds as she ran out to see about her customer. Fortunately, now there was a wall section between them, and she wouldn’t be tempted to pay more attention to him than to making a sale.
❧
Jill’s breeze left behind the scent of a blend of sweet flowers and spices. Ed looked at the shelves, which were lopsided on one side and coming apart on the other. He didn’t see how someone as petite as Jill had managed to maneuver the shelves enough to bolt them to the wall, even in this slipshod way. He had to hand it to her for trying.
Her defensive nature appeared to be an attempt to hide pain, so he squeezed his eyes shut in a brief prayer that he could do his job without angering her further. Something besides the shop’s state of disrepair appeared to be bothering her. He hoped he’d be a good witness throughout this project. Jill was cute, and he loved the way she smelled, but he was pretty sure she had issues.
Ed tried to concentrate on what he needed to do in order to brace the shelves, but he couldn’t help but overhear Jill’s conversation with the woman in the front of the shop. He moved to get a better view.
Jill’s auburn hair was carelessly swept up on top of her head and held with a single clip. Curly strands had fallen loose, and they hung around her face, framing her scrubbed, pale skin and nearly hiding the eyes that had bored a hole through him.
Several times she reached up and took a swipe at her hair, most likely so she could see. He noticed the big brown eyes that were free of makeup, something he suspected she hadn’t bothered with because she’d probably just rolled out of bed and thrown herself together to come to work. But that wasn’t all he noticed. He was impressed with the respect she showed her customer.
In spite of his resolve to do his work and mind his own business, he was intrigued by this diminutive woman with the obviously kind heart toward the elderly woman she was trying so hard to help. He could tell she had much more patience than he’d ever have with someone who would buy very little, if anything at all, and she seemed to sincerely care about helping that woman.
“I’m not sure we have what you’re looking for,” she told her customer. “Take a look around and see if anything interests you.” She started to walk away, but she stopped when the woman reached out and touched her arm.
The customer asked another question, then chattered incessantly while Jill gave her all her attention. Ed had already grabbed his ladder and was working on steadying it, but he continued to observe. Jill told the woman to let her know if she needed help, and the woman told her she would, thanking her for being such a sweet girl.
Jill glanced over her shoulder and caught Ed staring at her. Ed grabbed his measuring tape and pretended he hadn’t been watching her or eavesdropping. Pretending wasn’t his strong suit; he’d always been such an up-front guy. He was relieved when the customer came back to the sales desk and put something on the counter. That distracted Jill enough to take the heat off.
“Come back and see me,” Jill said as she rang up a purchase Ed couldn’t see because he was now hidden on the other side of the wall. He couldn’t keep gawking, so he’d actually begun prepping the wall.
“Oh, I will.” Then the door opened, letting in the sounds of Atlanta’s historic district.
Still distracted, Ed dropped the power drill on his foot and let out a grunt. He bit his bottom lip to absorb some of the pain. Now he was suffering for not paying enough attention to what he was supposed to be doing.
“I bet that hurts,” he heard a soft voice say.
Ed glanced up and saw Jill leaning against the doorframe, her arms folded, a slight smile playing on her lips. Now he really felt bad. It had been a mistake to eavesdrop. From now on he’d concentrate on doing the work she’d hired him to do and ignore her—if that was possible.
Josh, one of his buddies from church, had told him Jill was a single woman who needed a lot of help. That’s an understatement, Ed thought as he glanced around at the merchandise in the store. What she needed was a bulldozer and a deep landfill.
He shrugged. “Not really.”
She took a step closer and looked down at his foot. “You sure?”
“Positive.”
The tension in her face faded, and she offered a crooked grin. “Good. Then you’d better pick it up before it starts making a hole in my floor,” she said, nodding toward the drill that still lay across his boot.
“It’s not even plugged in,” Ed said.
“I don’t want to take any chances.” She turned and walked away, leaving him to deal with his absentmindedness alone. He was pretty sure, but not positive, that she was being playful.
Ed squeezed his eyes shut and prayed silently, Lord, please give me the strength to know when to open my mouth and when to be silent. I can’t do it on my own around this woman. He opened one eye and saw her profile before closing it again and adding, She’s the cutest boss I’ve ever had.
❧
Jill wished she’d gone with her first plan and called someone from the service. The entire time she’d been waiting on her customer she’d been thinking about the man in the back room. When she saw the drill lying on his boot, she resisted the urge to run to him, pick it up, and insist he get off his feet.
One look into his eyes, though, and she backed off. She couldn’t afford to let the chemistry between them affect her. She had a career mission, and he would certainly distract her from her goal.
Ed Mathis was only there to fix things in her shop—something any number of handy types could do. She didn’t need his critical eye studying her. Okay, she decided, first thing in the morning she’d give him one more thing to do; then she’d pay him, thank him, and send him on his way.
“I have to run out and get some drywall,” he said, startling her from her thoughts. “Some of those holes are too big to patch. Besides, I need to add more stud reinforcements behind the drywall, so I might as well start from scratch.”
Jill nodded. “Do whatever you have to do. I need those shelves.”
He offered her a grin as he raked his fingers through his short-cropped hair. He certainly acted as if he knew what he was doing. Jill had sneaked peeks into the back room to see how he was coming along. He’d cut around the holes where the toggle bolts had pulled out of the wall, then looked inside them with his flashlight, shaking his head and mumbling something she couldn’t hear.
After Ed left the shop it was suddenly very quiet. Too quiet. Jill had to flip the switch on her boom box to have something to keep her from thinking too much. She knew every single word of the praise song and sang along. She’d turned it off to balance her checkbook. Music was wonderful when she needed it for creative flow, but when she needed to focus her energy on anything logical, she had to have extreme quiet.
But now wasn’t the time to try to balance her checkbook. Logic had taken a hike after Ed walked in. Jill knew she needed to learn plenty of things, but she wanted to do it without someone hovering over her, watching. He had already shown signs of being too much like her father—organized and meticulous to a fault. He’d measured every single angle on the wall where the s
helves had fallen. Even his toolbox was organized and labeled.
A couple of regular customers came and went, each of them buying a few pieces for their collections, but not enough to make a significant improvement in her bank balance. In the short time Jill had been in business, she’d developed relationships with people who came into the shop. They’d found her shop mostly from the small ads she’d placed in the local collectors’ newsletter. To stay in business, she knew it would take a lot more than the handful of collectors who’d found the Junktique Shoppe.
Jill glanced at her watch every couple of minutes, wondering what was taking Ed so long. When he finally came back, she let out a deep sigh. Okay, so she liked having him there. That was the main reason he needed to go.
“How’s your foot?”
Ed shook his head. “Foot’s fine.”
“Good.”
She glanced out the window at his loaded truck. “How much will this cost?” Jill asked.
He smiled. “I’ll give you a little discount.”
Now she was even more worried. “I didn’t ask for a discount.”
“This needs to be done right, and from the look of things you can’t afford the full price.” He set his jaw, widened his stance, and folded his arms. “I don’t know if Josh told you, but I don’t do things halfway.”
Yes, Josh had told her, which was why she had chosen Ed.
“Okay,” she finally said while doing a quick mental calculation of how many days in a row she could eat boxed mac and cheese. “Do whatever you have to do to get those shelves up. But that might be all I can afford.” There was no point in hiding the fact that she was a struggling new business owner. He’d figure it out soon enough anyway.
The bells on the front door sounded again, so Jill left Ed and concentrated on taking care of her customers. The young couple told her they had just bought an old house in the heart of Atlanta and were looking for pieces for their new place.
“I don’t want department-store, cookie-cutter kinds of things,” the woman said. “I want my first house to have character.”
The man behind her nodded, clearly smitten with his wife. If Jill had to guess, she’d say they were a newly married couple, perhaps right out of college.
