Drew scowled. “Does Howard know that? He’s up there making all kinds of suggestions to my team.”
“The door’s always been blue. The church is white with a blue door.” Emily said it as if it were a law of nature.
“And green is…” Drew said, looking at Janet for an explanation.
“Not blue,” Emily said before Janet could even open her mouth.
“Did I mention Emily is chairman of the Preservation Task Force?” Janet offered, trying to put a friendly tone back into this near-argument.
“Oh,” said Drew slowly, “so you’re that Emily. Gil told me I might have a run-in with you before this was over.”
Way to put your foot in your mouth, Drew Downing, Janet thought. You’ve done it now, mister. You’re officially beyond my help.
“He said what?” Emily shot back. “Just what did Gil say about a ‘run-in’ with me?” She shifted her weight, and Janet thought both Gil and Drew were about to regret any further comment. Whatsoever.
“Howard was, you know, strongly suggesting some color scheme change for the church exterior. I was asking him who else might need to be in on a decision and…I met Emily here. Who evidently also has…some very strong opinions on the subject…which Howard had not mentioned.” Drew was talking in the short, carefully crafted phrases of someone who knows they are in a heap of trouble.
“And Howard, I suppose, was telling you he was the only person who needed to be consulted?” Janet offered. It was possible. Howard was the chair of the Buildings and Grounds committee, and even back when Janet sat on their committee, Howard would often make decisions without committee input.
“Well, you know Howard,” Drew explained, running his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t really think he had the only say, but I didn’t think I’d stepped on an exterior semigloss landmine, either.”
“Welcome to Middleburg,” Janet said to Drew, “where we take our status quo…”
“Our preservation,” Emily corrected.
“…pretty seriously,” Janet finished.
“I can see that,” Drew said. “Blue door. Very important. Duly noted. But…um…do you mind if I ask why blue?”
Janet didn’t have an answer. Neither, evidently, did Emily, because the only answer she could supply was, “Because the church door has always been blue.”
“And in Middleburg,” Janet explained as congenially as possible, “that’s reason enough. Drew, how about we don’t take Howard’s word on matters of artistic license here? If it’s okay with Emily, I’ll be glad to run interference on this, looking over the plans and letting you know anything I think ought to go before any committees. I’m sure that’s what Gil meant to say to Drew.” Janet directed that last comment at Emily, who was still fuming a bit.
After a moment, and a nudge from Janet, Emily’s stance softened.
“Oh, I’m sure of it.” Drew caught on. “Must’ve totally misunderstood Gil. There was lots of banging around us. He did mention he was excited to be getting married and all. Congratulations, by the way.”
“Thank you.” Emily softened further. “We’re very happy.”
“Actually, Emily, I think Gil was just looking for you when I left,” Drew said. “Something about taking you to lunch, maybe? Try that Milk and Cookies Pie Gina dreamed up over at Deacon’s. It’s out of this world.”
“Well, I’ll just head back to the site, then, and see what Gil’s up to with the guys.” Emily headed back up the aisle toward the shop door. “You look over those plans, Janet, and we’ll talk later.”
Drew and Janet watched her walk through the door and up the street. At which point they both exhaled loudly.
“I actually thought Howard had a good idea. Green, ecosystems, nature, you know?”
Janet shifted her weight. “Green, which also just happens to be Missionnovation’s signature color, you know?”
Drew balked. “I wasn’t thinking of that. Really. Oh boy, I wasn’t thinking at all, was I?” He shook his head. “How’d I miss that? No wonder she looked at me so suspiciously.”
“No matter what Emily thought your motives were, she’d still have objected to anything that wasn’t blue.” Janet sighed. “You were bound to start something with her no matter what you did, near as I can tell.”
“Nice save—I owe you.” He whistled through his teeth. “Man, I didn’t realize I’d need a Sherpa in Kentucky.”
“A what?”
“A Sherpa. You know, those wise, knowledgeable guides who keep people from killing themselves as they try to climb Mount Everest?”
“Well, this is Middleburg. I think even highly trained professionals couldn’t help but step on a few toes here. You’ve done pretty good so far.”
He turned to her and smiled.
“Would you really do that?” Drew asked. “Look over the plans and help me make sure Howard and Emily and anybody else doesn’t get upset? The stress level’s only going to go up around here as it is as we get closer to deadline. I’d like to avoid all the conflict I can.”
It was a sensible request. And she was the closest thing Drew had to an impartial advisor.
“I’ve got a bunch of site meetings this afternoon and an early dinner at Howard’s. Can I bring them by later, like six-thirty?”
Janet hesitated. The store would be closed, which would mean he’d need to bring them by her house. She wasn’t sure she was ready for that. Still, she was a twenty-eight-year-old woman. It wasn’t like she needed a hall pass to have a man stop by her house for perfectly respectable reasons. She could even show him the birdhouses.
He must have sensed her hesitation, for he added, “I can only stay an hour anyway—we’ve got the prayer meeting at eight. We can meet somewhere else if you’d feel better about it. Or put it off until morning.”
You’re being ridiculous, Janet told herself. It’s an hour to go over plans, not a romantic rendezvous. Besides, if you meet him on the bus there’ll be no way you can escape staying for the prayer meeting. “Come on by. Two blocks over, one block down. 82 Anthem Lane.”
Drew looked at her. “Ballad, March, Anthem, you people do like your music-inspired street names.”
“You’re on to our little secret. There’s even a Lullaby Lane, but nobody can stomach the address enough to live on it.”
Drew shook his head. “Then why don’t you just change the…?” He thought better of his suggestion in light of recent events. “Yeah, right, not really a change-friendly town, are we?”
Janet tucked her hands into her pockets. “Now you’re catching on, Downing. Even if it’s foolish, chances are we’ll keep it around rather than risk something new.”
Checking his watch, Drew turned to go. “Man, you’d better go over those plans with a microscope if I’m to get out of this alive,” he called back as he headed toward the door. “Six-thirty, 82 Anthem Lane.”
Chapter Eleven
Drew didn’t know what he’d expected Janet’s house to look like, but it surprised him nonetheless. It was a practical little brick house, basic yet with small-town charm. She’d changed out of the overalls and into a pair of soft mauve corduroy pants and a thickly knit cream turtleneck. It changed her features—all that texture in those hues. Gave her a sensible softness, a girl-next-door femininity that caught him unawares.
She showed him to the dining room, where she’d cleared off the large table so he could spread out his plans, swatch books and color palettes he and the design team had pulled together. The table was nearly completely covered once he spread everything out.
“Jeremy’s trying to stay within a botanical palette—nature-inspired colors but bright enough to engage little eyes.” He pointed to a drawing of some shelving. “We took the motif from the crown molding in the sanctuary and used it here. It’ll mean custom work, but I think it’ll be worth it.”
“You don’t need to custom cut that. Look at the shelves my dad built in the library. It does something like that, but we were able to use some stock molding
on the straight pieces and only had to do the corner blocks as custom work.”
Drew tried to remember what he’d seen in the library. “We won’t find that molding in stock anywhere. I’ve never seen it before.”
Janet reached for the pencil and began sketching on a blank space of the paper. “Well, not exactly, but if you take a piece like this—” she sketched out one set of angles “—and combine it with a piece like this—” she sketched out a second set “—all you have to do is cut down this one part here and they’ll fit together to make ones really close to the moldings in the sanctuary.” She fiddled with the sketch again until, sure enough, the two shapes came together in something amazingly close to the custom design he’d proposed. Her solution cut their costs in half, not to mention the labor-hours needed to install the shelves. He watched her stand up, cock her head from side to side as she analyzed the drawing, then lean back over and make a tiny revision. She had long, delicate fingers, and she held her pencil with the precise grip of an artist.
“That’ll work,” he said, genuinely impressed. “I mean, that’ll really work. Half the cost and one-third the time. You know your stuff.”
She grinned at him, silently accepting the compliment before pointing to another place on the plans. “Where’d this design come from?”
“Isn’t it great? I picked it up from the communion table.”
Janet shook her head. “Nope, you can’t.”
Drew raised an eyebrow. “Preservation?”
“Well, I think this more qualifies as good old Southern orneriness. Old man Nichols made that table, and according to my mama, he’ll think you’re copying him and pitch a fit for years to come.” She stuck her pencil behind her ear. “He has an Olympic medal in fit-pitching, so everyone knows to steer clear. It looks neat, but it’s not worth the battle.”
“Rats. I liked that one.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I do, too.”
She’d paid him a compliment again. It didn’t sound so foreign in her voice this time, either. Janet Bishop was coming around. Slowly, inch by inch, but some part of him liked that. It meant she was thinking things through, that he was earning her allegiance, not just charming it out of her.
By the end of the conversation, they’d actually laughed together often, their eyes holding for short bits of time. She really did have astounding eyes. The cream sweater she wore made them all the more dark and rich and mesmerizing. He found himself stopping for moments in midsentence, frozen by her eyes. He’d lost his train of thought more than once, bringing them to absurd pauses and flustered excuses. She smelled clean and flowery, like fine soap or a summer breeze. When she reached back up into her hair for the pencil and he noticed the tiny dangle earrings she wore, he’d almost knocked over his drink. She was beautiful. Not pretty—that was too flimsy a word—she was from the inside out beautiful.
“Come back to the bus with me,” he said softly. It was as if it crept out of his mouth without his permission.
Janet straightened instantly, giving him a harsh look. Every inch of the guard she’d finally let down shot back up twice as thick as before. “Said the spider to the fly,” she quoted in a bitter tone.
What? It took Drew a minute before he realized what he’d said and how she took it. He’d stuck his foot in his mouth—again, only worse. “No! Wait, I didn’t mean it that way—what’s the matter with me lately? I meant come back to the meeting tonight.”
Her look told Drew that question didn’t meet with any better reception. “Don’t do that,” she snapped, actually backing away a few steps from him.
“Do what?”
“Don’t make this about faith.”
The ice in her words told him just how much of a misstep he’d made. This couldn’t even be qualified as resistance, this was blatant refusal. He’d struck a very raw nerve. Drew backed off to sit down on one of the chairs lined up on the side of her dining room. “But I can’t make this not be about faith—at least for me. It’s all about faith. You know what Missionnovation is all about. Your mom’s been a prayer warrior for us since the day we pulled in. Dinah goes to that church. Emily and Gil go to that church. Howard and your mother and even Vern go to that church. How can you be all around this church like you are, but not in it?”
“I don’t know that it’s any of your business. I’m not ‘in it.’ People around here have learned to respect that, I’d appreciate it if you did, too.”
“I can. I respect it.” And he did, to a point. The mystery of why Janet was surrounded by people of faith but was so resistant to faith herself was driving him crazy. It seemed too personal to ask anyone but Janet herself, but he’d hoped to be more sensitive about it than this. “I…I just mostly want to understand.” Great job, Downing, he yelled at himself. Way to stick your foot in it again. She began rolling up the drawings. He was being dismissed, and his impulsive can’t-leave-it-alone nature had shot yet another opportunity in the foot by moving too fast. When would he ever learn?
“No, you don’t want to understand. You want to bring me back into the fold. Redeem me. Help me get over my resistance.”
It stung him that she’d used the very word in his thoughts. Had he been that transparent?
“How many times do you think I hear lines like that? With my mom pushing that agenda on me daily, you think I can’t see it coming a mile off?” She handed him the rolled up drawings and began piling up the swatch books. “You think I wasn’t just waiting for it? Congratulations, Drew, you actually took longer than most people. I suppose I should give you credit for that.”
“No, Janet, don’t. It’s not like that. I’m not trying to…” She glared at him, those brown eyes burning, and he knew that was a lie. “Okay, I’m always trying to…but…” He’d botched this, and he knew it. She looked colder than ever, all the softness and texture swallowed by icy defensiveness. He picked up the swatch books off the table. “Nobody wants Jesus stuffed down their throats. But believe me, that wasn’t what I meant to do. It was impulse. I’m sorry I offended you. Don’t blame God for my stupid behavior.” Drew didn’t even look up. “I’m going. Good night. I’m sorry.” Muttering recriminations to himself, he piled his arms full of everything he’d brought and pushed out the door as fast as he could.
He was a fool. An impatient, insensitive, egotistical clod.
Janet stared at her closed door, fuming. She was mad for eleven different reasons, half of which didn’t make sense. She knew better than to think faith wouldn’t come up in this. She’d known from before he parked in front of her hardware store that he was all about the God thing. No one was forcing her to be involved beyond filling supply orders. No one was even forcing her to be the job supplier, for that matter (except maybe her balance sheet, but that was hardly God’s territory). Downing was as nonstop God as her mother…as Tony. She’d known that all along. She’d already seen that Drew’s job and life and faith were inseparable—this shouldn’t have surprised her.
He’d been abrupt, but when wasn’t he? He’d been bold, but he was bold about everything. And why had she jumped to the conclusion she did when he asked? Why had she assumed he was hitting on her?
The answer made her more prickly than before: because she liked him. She found him attractive in a way that seemed dangerous and unattainable. Irrational, even. He was the opposite of her practicality—a wild, ignore-the-odds loose cannon of a guy who believed he couldn’t out-dare God. Tony had been like that, and it still looked enthralling to her—to live on the edge of faith like that. It wasn’t something she could ever attain now, though. She couldn’t make those kinds of leaps of faith anymore.
Why couldn’t Drew Downing have been a different kind of thrill seeker? A race car driver or a test pilot? Why wouldn’t God leave her alone like she asked?
Chapter Twelve
Drew stomped into the bus, threw his designs down onto the desk and yanked open the fridge to grab a bottle of water. He didn’t open the bottle, but paced across the bus floor
, fighting the urge to sock himself between the eyes.
“Whoa, buddy.” Kevin came out from the back bunks, looking barely awake. “Take it down a notch or you’ll break the bus.” He ran his hands through his hair and looked at Drew. “What’s going on?”
“Me. I’m going on. I’m saying stupid things and insulting people.” Drew began to tear at the Missionnovation label, shredding it off the bottle in tiny frustrated pieces. “I’m an impulsive idiot, Cooper. I can’t keep up.”
Kevin yawned and leaned against the cabinets. “Well, what do you know? Mr. Unstoppable found the end of his rope. Welcome to the world of mere mortals. It only took you three seasons to get here.”
“Way to encourage, Kevin. Who knew you had a gift for it?”
Kevin sat down. “No, really. The trouble is you’re so busy vaulting over walls you forget what it feels like to hit up against one. You hit a snag—okay, maybe a big snag. It doesn’t mean Missionnovation’s coming down around your ankles.” He reached back behind him toward the coffeemaker. “Grab the plans and we’ll see what we can work out.”
“This isn’t a plan snag. It’s a people snag.”
“Okay, this town’s a bit of a handful, and I heard all about the door business, but this isn’t anything you haven’t dealt with before.”
Drew let his head fall into his hands. “It’s a person snag. Singular.”
Kevin only grunted as he plucked a mug off the back wall and filled it with coffee.
Might as well out with it. “Female.”
“Oh.” Kevin drew out the word. “Well, what do you know? You and Annie finally…”
Drew shot upright. “Annie? What are you talking about?”
“Hey, I always just figured it was a matter of time before you and Annie…you know.”
Drew blinked and looked at his friend. “Annie? Me and Annie? Are you crazy? Work ethics aside, she’s like my kid sister, Cooper. That’s just…”
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