The town council was congratulating the mayor on his clever store name, while Harley was biding her time, waiting to see this building before the one they thought was good for a theater.
The mayor unlocked the door to a small, empty, retail space. “This used to be the locksmith shop. I’d like to have some display space here by the windows and a countertop in the middle.” He pointed here, there and everywhere. “And a row of sinks along the back wall where people can make their own tie-dye.”
“You don’t need an architect for this.” Harley finally found her voice. “You need someone like Vince. He builds things.”
She’d expected Vince to frown, but he surveyed the space with a critical eye.
“We have a local contractor.” The mayor’s smile never wavered as he rejected Vince.
Vince’s frown came and went so fast, Harley might have missed it if she hadn’t been staring at him.
“We didn’t know an architect.” Agnes beamed at Harley. “Until you.”
“Let me finish telling you my vision.” The mayor regained the floor. “I wanted to knock out this wall into the empty space next door and build dressing rooms, plus have additional retail space and storage. I want it to be more like a loft you’d see in downtown San Francisco.”
“But with more pizzazz.” Rose raised her hands and lowered them like a jazz-fingered rainbow. “You young people want to shop the internet. Larry is talking about building an experience, not just a T-shirt store.”
Mayor Larry nodded emphatically. “Folks are always looking for something else to do in town.”
“Let’s not forget it’s my granddaughter’s wine that brings people here,” Agnes said with pride, as if making sure the mayor knew the pecking order of Harmony Valley attractions.
“I still say we could charge for go-kart trips up and down Parish Hill.” Mildred sat on her walker, staring out the window. “How fun would that be?”
“Great fun,” Vince seconded enthusiastically.
“Until someone crashes on one of those hairpin turns.” Rose slapped her hands together.
“Not everyone is as good a driver as you were, Mildred,” Vince said, earning him smiles from Agnes and Rose.
“There is that, I suppose,” Mildred said morosely.
Harley was intrigued enough to walk the space. “You’ve got good bones here, except it’s brick, which isn’t always stable when you remove it to create new doorways and windows. At least, not when it’s this old.” A century, if not longer.
“But it can be done?” the mayor half asked, half stated.
“Anything can be done with the right vision,” Harley said before catching herself. That had been a phrase she’d often heard from one of her favorite college professors.
“That’s the spirit,” Vince murmured.
“Let’s look at my project.” Rose did a little shuffle toward the door. “It’s across the street.”
She led them toward a mid-century, flat-topped building with floor-to-ceiling windows and a sign on top in red letters that said Groceries. Agnes had a key and took them inside. The metal shelves still created aisles, blocked by cobweb girders. A miniature train track ran along the outer walls about seven feet up. The track was held up by suspension wires.
“I see this as the lobby and the entry to the main seats.”
Mildred sat on her walker near the door. “It’s rather large for a lobby.”
Rose peered down an aisle. “Perhaps we could have dressing rooms in the back there.”
“Where do you see the stage?” Harley had to ask. The building was just a flat box. Any stage would be at floor level and hard to see.
“Next door.” Rose led them outside and into a two-story building with tall ceilings. “The stage would be small—maybe thirty by twenty.” She turned and raised her slender arms to the ceiling. “There’d be small balconies above us.”
The building wasn’t ideal for a theater. It was built like a long, narrow box. It felt better suited for a tattoo parlor than a playhouse.
“I can see the balconies.” Vince was staring up at the wrong end of the building for balconies. There wasn’t enough support on the long wall.
Rose twirled to his side. “Can you see a ceiling painted with a scene from Greek mythology? And walls painted with other balconies, as if Renaissance lords and ladies watched the performance?”
“You said you wanted a couple to be kissing,” Mildred pointed out.
“Or whispering secrets and pointing to a handsome man in the crowd,” Agnes added.
“Well, I can see it.” Somewhere between the bakery and the theater, Vince had switched allegiances. He quirked a brow at Harley, as if daring her to see the old woman’s vision.
“Can it be done?” Rose clasped her hands to her chest, eyes widening hopefully.
Disappointing her would be like disappointing her own grandmother. “Anything can be done with the right vision,” Harley allowed carefully, adding a qualifier. “If you have enough money.”
“No problem.” This from the mayor whose shorts were worn at the seams and whose Birkenstock sandals had deep, dark, toe imprints from years of wear.
“I’m going to borrow from my grandson-in-law.” Rose said emphatically. “For which I’ll pay him back with interest.”
Mildred sighed. “Here’s hoping you live long enough to pay him back.”
“Mildred,” Agnes scolded.
The mayor drifted toward the door, as if keen to avoid town council drama.
“I’m not saying she shouldn’t have dreams.” Mildred’s gaze landed on Vince, perhaps seeking an ally. “I’m just saying a traditional bank would laugh her out the door for having dreams at this age.”
“Pah!” Rose’s willowy white brows came down as hard as her foot on the scuffed linoleum. “You should never stop dreaming, no matter the cost.”
“Dreams aside, we need a plan to move this forward.” Despite his tie-dye and long ponytail, the mayor was more of a pragmatist. “Could you draw up plans for us?”
“Certainly, she could,” Vince said. “Harley is a dream believer.”
Harley frowned at Vince. “Unfortunately, I’m not licensed to practice in California.” Not to mention she hadn’t completed her internship with Dan.
“We wouldn’t want to tax you professionally,” Agnes said, speaking when the mayor and Rose seemed too crushed to do more than pout. “But if you could sketch your ideas so we could bring them to someone else, that would be most helpful.”
“Someone else will have a different vision.” A more executable vision. Harley refused to look above their heads to balcony height.
“What we’re saying is, we lack imagination ourselves,” Mildred said flatly, the true pragmatist among them. “We need a boost on the swing before we can swing alone.” When Harley didn’t immediately answer, she added, “We would pay you, of course.”
“Done.” Vince clapped a hand on Harley’s shoulder.
Harley mumbled something noncommittal and waited until they’d left Main Street to turn on Vince. “You had no right to tell them I could do that.”
“You’re just like them.” Vince shrugged. “You need a little push to get you back on track professionally.”
“I’m right where I need to be.” But how it turned her stomach to say that.
“There’s no future as a laborer in construction, Harley.”
She frowned. “Says the man who’s a laborer in construction.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
NEWS IN HARMONY VALLEY never traveled at a snail’s pace.
By the time Vince and Harley reached the garage, his family was aware Harley had been presented with a job opportunity.
“You’re moving here!” Sam cried, skipping around them on the driveway. She wore a sophisticated white-and-orange-striped sheath. Her orange f
lip-flops snapped with every skip.
“What?” Vince couldn’t contain his horror.
“Dad said the mayor hired Harley.” Sam skipped back toward the shop. “You can’t let Harley move here without you, Uncle Vince, because you love her and you’re going to marry her.”
The L-word stuck in Vince’s throat, preventing him from saying anything.
Love.
Love had brought his mother to Harmony Valley. It’d given her three children and years of happiness. At least, until things went south. Had love been worth the pain to her? The answer had to be no. Didn’t it?
He looked at Harley. She had everything a man wanted in a woman. Everything Vince wanted in a woman. But was love worth the risk? Could he stand to hurt her if he developed any of the mental health issues his father had?
The answer twisted his insides uncomfortably. The answer was no.
Thankfully, Harley was just as upset at the prospect of living in Harmony Valley as Vince was. She filled the void left by his silence. “There is no job. I’m not moving here. It’s a misunderstanding.”
Gabe and Joe lingered in the open service bay, watching.
“Oh.” Sam pouted. “You’ll miss me.” She flashed the trademark Messina grin and Vince’s insides twisted some more.
Vince would miss her. He’d miss them all. Joe’s steady presence. Brit’s infectious enthusiasm. Even Gabe’s endless and troublesome stream of ideas.
“That’s too bad because I’m sure Harley could whip up plans for a house here in no time.” Gabe dangled a set of keys in his hands, presumably for the mower he claimed was inside. Apparently it wasn’t a surprise wedding gift. “You guys could get married and build a house right in that field.”
Harley removed herself from the conversation, drifting away to the mowed area by the bridge where some of Brit’s upcycle art was on display.
Joe didn’t comment.
“If you moved here, Vince,” Gabe went on cheerfully, “Joe wouldn’t have to buy you out.”
Joe still said nothing.
Gabe came over to Vince and gave him the keys. “Maybe I’ll move into the apartment above the garage when I retire.”
“Uncle Vince could work at the garage, Dad.” Sam tapped her feet, as if she’d taken dance lessons from Rose.
“No, he can’t,” Joe said emphatically, with a hard glance that swung Vince’s way but stopped somewhere near his feet. “There’s not enough business to support two mechanics.”
“Three.” Sam pointed her thumb at herself. “You’re forgetting me.”
“How could I forget you?” Joe slung his arm around his daughter and drew her in for a hug. “It’s you and me in that garage, kid.”
Sam beamed at her dad, and Vince felt a pang of something foreign in his chest, something like envy. Which was ridiculous. He didn’t want to have kids.
“I’m not moving here,” Vince said firmly, heading toward the Messina-free zone that was Harley.
“But Harley might be.” Gabe chortled. “Hey, tell her I found some tile for the shower today. And the tools she needs.”
“When did you have time?” Vince asked.
“A hardworking man has enough time to get everything on his list done and then some.” Gabe shot Vince with his finger gun. “And who said I found it this morning?”
“Where did you get the tile?” It was rare for Joe to get annoyed with Gabe, but there was that no-barter rule of his sharpening his words.
“Mayor Larry is renovating his house.” Gabe toned his usual exuberance down a notch, but it was a very small notch. “He special-ordered tile that he doesn’t like and can’t return.”
“And you bought it from him?” Joe demanded. “Tell me you paid him cash money.”
Gabe momentarily lost hold of his smile. “Okay. I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you whatever you want to hear.”
“Gabe,” Joe warned, unhappy with his oldest brother’s tendency to weave an entire story around a single thread of truth.
“Hey.” Gabe held up his hands. “I picked up a job driving the Harmony Valley Sightseeing shuttle for the mayor for a couple of days this week, starting tomorrow, because Rex is going in for a procedure. And I told Mayor Larry whatever he was going to pay me could go toward compensating him for that tile.”
“You’ll get a paycheck,” Joe demanded. “You’ll cash it and give the mayor money. No barter.”
“But there are so many more hoops to go through your way.” Gabe looked to Sam and Vince for support, but the two of them were wise enough to stay out of it.
“You’ll leave a paper trail.” Joe retreated into the service bay, but he wasn’t done talking. “Promise me. I’m not joking about this. That tile is for my house.”
“Okay, okay.” Gabe finally looked serious. “I’m going to drive the ladies to their bachelorette lunch. Vince, can I take your SUV?”
Vince tossed him the keys and then crossed the field toward Harley, who was sitting on one of the old swings. There was a set of slick racing tires arranged in a circle across from the swing she was on. He’d bought them the summer he’d tried building a dragster.
“Does Joe know I lied about our engagement?” Harley stared at the sky. Her hands clutched the rusted, slender chains.
“I’m not sure.” He sat on a nearby tire. “We were too busy dickering to talk about you.”
“All families argue.” Harley lowered her gaze to him. “Don’t think your mother left because you and your brothers fought.”
“I know it wasn’t because of that.” Vince didn’t want to talk about his mother or moving to Harmony Valley. He wanted to get to the bottom of what was bothering Harley. “Did you come out here to contemplate the mayor’s offer?”
“No.” She twisted side-to-side on the swing. Not smiling. Stress was evident around her eyes. “Do you remember building houses with Lincoln Logs when you were a kid?”
“Sure.” They’d had a set. Secondhand and missing a lot of smaller logs. He and Gabe had used the longer logs to stage sword fights. Vince could still feel the sting of wood on his knuckles.
“Did you ever try to make houses with porches or balconies?” Harley’s voice was too casual. She was leading up to something important.
“That went beyond my skill.” Vince was reminded of her theater sketch. “I made rectangular cabins, mostly without windows.”
“I used to make elaborate log cabins. There were room additions and decks. And then I discovered Legos.” The tense lines on her face smoothed. “You can create beautiful castles with Legos.”
“With the right tools, anything’s possible.”
She gave him a half smile. “When I was twelve, my grandmother gave me a sketchpad. That’s when the world of architecture became unlimited to me.” The smile fell. “I’ve been drawing impossible structures ever since.”
“Impossible is nothing but a puzzle yet to be solved.” He’d probably seen that on a poster in a bar somewhere.
She winced. “Impossible is a career killer.”
Laughter from the garage invited them to lighten up. They ignored the invitation.
“When I was a kid, just learning how to change the oil on a car, my dad didn’t expect me to be able to change a transmission.” Vince moved to stand before Harley. He knelt and put his hands on her bare knees.
Love.
The word came unbidden, pressing Pause on his train of thought, because when he looked at Harley, the L-word seemed to fit.
He didn’t want it to.
He removed his hands from her knees and pulled his gaze away. “What I’m saying is you can’t judge your potential when you haven’t mastered the simpler things.”
“You think I should apprentice myself to an architect who specializes in housing developments?” Her words shook with anger, which was good, considering that meant she’d f
ound her backbone. “You think I should spend my days drawing straight lines for cookie-cutter homes?”
“You spent years studying your craft from top to bottom with your eyes on the clouds.” She was always looking up. “Yes, I think you should cut yourself some slack and go back to basics.”
She straightened her legs, pushing back on the swing and away from him.
He stood, moving aside. “I’ve never seen you give up on a tile job. No matter how high the moon Jerry promises, you always deliver somehow. And I’m sure that’s because your dad trained you in his craft. Find an architect you respect to hitch your wagon to. One who has the answers you need.” If anyone had an answer for ribboned balconies, that is.
Brit called to Harley. They were driving into Santa Rosa to have lunch at some fancy restaurant.
Vince forced himself to smile at Harley. “The answer will come to you when you least expect it.” Probably when he was long gone from her life.
The chains on the swing rattled as she stood. “I’d rather the answer had come to me when I needed it most.”
* * *
THE COUPLES DINNER was shaping up to be the social event of the year.
Cars lined the road leading up to the Messina Family Garage. Cars were parked around the corner and along the street leading to the highway. The mayor’s tourist party bus had been put into use. Gabe kept picking people up and dropping them off at the garage.
Harley took one look at the long line of tables set across the garage’s parking lot with name cards set in front of every pair of chairs and turned to Vince. “We shouldn’t play.” The game involved answering personal questions about your spouse or significant other. She feared they’d fail miserably.
“We can always back out.” He stared down at her with an unreadable expression. The breeze ruffled his black hair. “But don’t you want to know how well we know each other?”
“Yes,” she admitted, somewhat exasperated, having spent the better part of the day with women who were overjoyed that she was who Vince had asked to be his bride. She was growing weary of the ruse. “But why?”
Marrying the Wedding Crasher Page 15
