by Mia Ross
When the bowls were empty, he clapped his hands to get the mutt’s attention. “Okay, dude, it’s bath time. I sure hope you don’t hate water.”
The dog trotted at his heels as if he was on an invisible leash, which was a sure sign he’d been someone’s pet at one point. Judging by his bedraggled condition, that had been a while ago. On the way to the bathroom, it occurred to him that a wet dog might catch a chill on a night like this, so he paused to start a fire that would warm the air.
Thankfully, his mysterious houseguest was as well behaved in the tub as he’d been everywhere else, and by the time he was rinsed, it was obvious just how lean the poor guy had gotten while he’d been on his own. Brian couldn’t imagine why anyone would leave such a great dog to fend for himself, and his temper began boiling when he considered what kind of person would toss a sweet-tempered creature like this out into the snow.
“Well, you’re here now, warm and safe.” His canine visitor circled a few times in front of the hearth, then sank down on the floor and let out an enormous yawn. It struck him as a very human thing to do, and Brian laughed. “Yeah, I know how you feel. Guess it’s bedtime for both of us.”
Patting the furry forehead, he went into his bedroom and closed the door behind him. He hadn’t even climbed into bed when he heard a quiet whimper on the other side. He ignored it, assuming the dog would get sick of it and stop. Instead, the whimpering got louder, and then it was joined by a soft scratching on the thick wooden jamb.
After all the poor guy had been through, Brian didn’t have the heart to leave him alone in the front room. So, because he was a softy, he grabbed his pillow and one of his mother’s quilts and opened the door. Silhouetted in the open frame sat his new pal, swishing his feathery tail over the floorboards with a hopeful expression.
“Okay, you got me. I’m a sucker for big blue eyes.” The tail swishing quickened, and as Brian trudged back into the living room, the dog danced around him in obvious delight. Chuckling to himself, Brian stretched out on the sofa and got comfortable. Glancing over, he caught the expectant look in the stray’s eyes and grumbled, “What?”
A tentative paw sneaked onto the cushion in front of him, and he laughed. “Seriously?”
That got him a definitive yip, which he took for a yes. So he wedged himself to the back of the couch and patted the quilt in invitation. He didn’t have to do it twice.
Once they were both jammed into place, his damp visitor curled into a ball, resting his head on his paws with a weary sigh. And, despite the odd detour his night had taken, Brian drifted off with a smile on his face.
Chapter Eight
When Lindsay arrived at work the next day, she got quite the surprise.
“Well, hello there,” she greeted the dog sitting beside the desk while Brian continued his running battle with the computer. Hanging her coat on its hook, she said, “You didn’t mention hiring anyone new.”
Glancing up from the screen, Brian chuckled. “He was on my porch when I got home last night. No collar or anything, but someone trained him well, so I’m gonna hang up some flyers and hopefully find his owner. As soon as I figure out how to make them, that is.”
“Good idea.” The pup offered her a paw, and she shook it gently. “Nice to meet you.”
“I tried to get him to stay in the house, but he wouldn’t stop barking so I caved and brought him with me.”
“You have a new tagalong. That’s so cute.”
“Whatever.”
“Oh, please,” she scoffed, laughing off the obvious attempt at bravado. “You love dogs, and I’d imagine you won’t be too disappointed if no one claims this one.”
“Well, maybe not,” he allowed, leaning back in the chair with a grin that reminded her there was still a little boy inside that tall, rangy frame.
“What’s his name?”
“Haven’t thought of one, since I’m not sure he’ll be sticking around.”
Lindsay studied the fur ball and said, “It’s obvious that he hasn’t been getting fed, so he’s either lost or someone left him behind when they moved. My guess is he’s yours if you want him.”
“I’m no good at thinking up names. I’ve been calling him ‘dude.’”
“Very original.” After a moment, she said, “How about Riley?”
Brian looked down and asked, “Whatta you think, boy?” The dog immediately responded by tipping his head back and letting out an enthusiastic little yip. “Sounds like a winner to me, too. We’ll go with that.”
“Good enough. Would you like me to save you from designing that lost-dog flyer?”
“Please.”
They both laughed, and Lindsay shooed Brian out so she could get to work. After his story about Riley trailing after him everywhere, she expected the stray to follow him into the shop. Instead, he crawled under the desk and stretched out, pillowing his head on Lindsay’s shoes. It was an unusual way to work, but once she got used to it, he wasn’t a distraction, and she had to admit that he made an excellent foot warmer.
When Brian came back in around lunchtime, she had another surprise for him. Handing over a printed page, she tried to look casual as he took in what it said.
Meeting her eyes over the top of the paper, he asked, “Is this what I think it is?”
“That depends on what you think it is.”
“Our first order from outside the area. From Marion Granger in Framingham, Massachusetts.”
“Then it’s what you think,” she confirmed, touched by the way he’d referred to the momentous occurrence as “our” order. Slipping her feet out from underneath her sleeping assistant, she went around the desk to hug him. “Congratulations, Brian. You’re on your way.”
“Thanks.” He stared down at the paper again as if he still couldn’t quite believe it was real. When his eyes met hers again, they warmed as he smiled. “It wouldn’t have happened without the website you designed to bring in new customers.”
His praise settled nicely over her still-recovering ego, which made it easy to be gracious. “Your work sells itself. I told you that once you showed people what you can do, they’d be lining up to buy things from Liberty Creek Forge.”
“Lining up?”
Laughing, Lindsay reached into the wire basket on her desk labeled Orders to Fill. Feeling almost giddy, she handed him a dozen more printouts, each one requesting a different item from the stock he’d been working so hard to build. As if that weren’t enough, there was one from a couple in Florida requesting a quote for a custom garden trellis that would serve as the focal point of their daughter’s upcoming wedding.
“Whoa,” he breathed, sounding a little overwhelmed. “Looks like I’m gonna be busy.”
“And successful. Just like I always knew you would be.”
The last part jumped out all on its own, and she felt her cheeks heating with embarrassment. This was a professional achievement for him, and she hadn’t intended to make it personal in any way. But when she saw the grateful look in his eyes, she was glad she’d said it.
“You did?”
“Sure,” she responded, hunting for a way to make it sound less intimate. Then it hit her, and she nonchalantly added, “Everyone did. I mean, that’s why your class voted you ‘most likely to succeed’ your senior year.”
“That’s right, they did,” he commented with a chuckle. “A lot of them still live around here. I wonder what they think of me now.”
“I can’t speak for everyone, but I’m pretty impressed.”
That got her one of those lazy grins that still had a way of making her wary heart roll over in her chest. Brian Calhoun had always been hard to resist, but she had more than herself to think about, and she knew that she had to be less impulsive. Over the years, her reckless heart had gotten her into more trouble than she preferred to think about. Right now, getting romantically involved with anyone�
�especially the man who signed her paychecks—was the most foolish thing she could do.
Fortunately, someone knocking on the front door broke the moment, and they both looked toward the sound. A tall man in a black dress coat stood outside the glass, and he raised a gloved hand in greeting.
“Were you expecting company?” Brian asked as he went to unlock the door.
“No.”
“Can’t imagine anyone coming up to this end of town on such a cold day by mistake.” Clearly baffled, he opened the door and stepped back to let the man inside. “Can I help you?”
“Good morning,” the stranger replied, pulling off his leather driving gloves in a practiced motion. Offering his hand, he said, “I’m Rick Marshall, the commercial loan officer at the new Patriot’s Bank branch here in Liberty Creek. Now that Fred Gilbert has retired, I’m responsible for overseeing your account.”
Brian took the man’s business card and said, “I’m Brian Calhoun, the guy who signed all those papers last fall. It’s nice to meet you. Have you heard how Fred and Dillie are enjoying Florida?”
“No, but it wouldn’t surprise me if they’re patting themselves on the back right about now.” Rick glanced out the window and grimaced. “They picked a good year to go.”
“Aw, this is nothin’,” Brian assured him with a grin. “Couple years ago, we were socked in from Christmas straight through to Mother’s Day.”
A look of horror crossed the poor man’s face. “You’re kidding.”
“Yes, he is,” Lindsay assured him, coming forward to rescue him from a full-on Calhoun ribbing session. Holding out her hand, she introduced herself.
Feeling genuine sympathy for him, she gave him her friendliest smile. She’d gotten adept at dealing with financial types during her legal assistant career, and she’d quickly learned that a little extra attention went a long way. “Come on in and have some coffee and a muffin. That should help thaw you out.”
“Muffin?” he echoed as he followed them into the office. “From the bakery here in town?”
“The same,” Brian told him as he filled one of the beefy Liberty Creek Forge mugs and handed it over. “Ellie Calhoun’s the best baker in the state. Not to mention my grandmother.”
“I’ve taken my daughters in there a couple times. Your grandmother has a real way with kids.”
Brian chuckled. “She’s had a lotta practice.”
Lindsay cleared a space for the three of them to sit and made small talk while they enjoyed their snack. Frequent glimpses of Brian’s expression showed her that while he appeared to be calm enough, the wheels in his head were spinning as quickly as ever. No doubt he was trying to figure out why on earth a bank officer had come by on the coldest morning of the winter.
From her bookkeeping work, she knew that the business loan he’d taken out for the forge was a substantial one, and although he made every payment on time, it was by the skin of his teeth. She was pondering other possibilities for the visit when she heard a rumbling noise coming from under the desk.
Rick stopped midsentence and gave Brian a questioning look.
“Sorry, just our shop mascot. Come here, Riley, and say hello.”
Since they really had no idea what the dog’s name was, Lindsay was amazed when he obeyed Brian’s command without so much as a whimper. Trotting over, he sat in front of Rick and held out his paw in welcome.
“Hello to you, too,” the banker responded, chuckling as they shook. After a long look, he asked, “I’ve never seen a dog with those markings before. What breed is he?”
“An Australian shepherd,” Lindsay replied quickly, hoping to save Brian the embarrassment of having to admit he had no clue about the dog’s pedigree. He gave her a curious glance, and she explained. “I looked it up online.”
“Huh. So computers are good for something other than torturing me?”
“I feel the same way about them.” Laughing, Rick set his empty mug on the table. “My girls would love a dog. Now that we’re living here and have a fenced yard, it’d be nice to have one. In the spring I’ll have to look around for a good kennel.”
Lindsay got the distinct impression that his friendly manner was aimed at putting them at ease, and in her experience that usually wasn’t a good sign. She decided it would be smart to cut to the chase and find out what he wanted. “Is there something we can do for you, Rick? I just closed the books for January if you’re interested in doing a quick audit.”
“She’s good,” he commented to Brian, then sat back with what sounded like a genuine sigh of regret. “I hate dancing around, so I won’t sugarcoat it for you. It’s come to our attention that Fred approved your loan based in part on his long-standing relationship with your family. While we don’t question your intent to repay the loan, we are concerned about the more practical aspects of the arrangement. Our main branch in Waterford sent me to assess how viable this business is given the current economic climate in the area.”
Lindsay’s heart sank. This was Brian’s greatest fear, that the ironworks would fail before it even got started. The orders that had come in recently were a good start, but she knew they were far from enough to convince a business-minded man like Rick Marshall that the newly resurrected forge was a good risk for his bank to take.
To her astonishment, Brian laughed. “Drew the short straw, huh?”
“Yes,” Rick admitted on a heavy exhale. “Actually, I have a suspicion that all the straws were short, and this is my hazing.”
The two of them laughed, and it occurred to her that Brian’s easygoing personality had turned what could have been an awkward encounter into the first step in the men becoming friends.
Brian stood and opened the office door. “How ’bout I give you a tour, then show you what I’m working on right now? Then if you’ve got questions about anything I’m doing here, we’ll talk.”
“That’d be great. I’d love to see how a vintage blacksmith shop operates.”
The line was straight out of the marketing section of their new website, and as Lindsay watched them go, she had to admit that she was impressed.
Now, if only Brian could charm Rick Marshall the way he did everyone else he met, they’d still be in business. If not...
Pushing the thought aside, she settled in her spot behind the desk and opened her accounting program. When a local bank expressed doubts about continuing to fund a business just up the street, that was a serious red flag. She might not be a craftsman, but a slew of professional-looking reports could ease the loan committee’s concerns about Liberty Creek Forge. Brian was paying her to run this end of his business, after all. As with the intimidating stack of environmental documentation she’d completed, this was a chance for her to prove to him just how valuable she could be.
When he popped his head back into the office and said her name, she all but jumped out of her chair. “Don’t sneak up on people like that! You scared me half to death.”
“Sorry. I was wondering if you’ve got a few minutes to help me show Rick around the place.”
Having resigned herself to being relegated to the office, she was flattered that he’d even think of asking. “Well, sure, but why?”
“You’re the one who set up the showroom to be photographed for the website, and I thought it’d be better for him to hear the strategy from you.”
There was something else at play here, and Lindsay quickly figured it out. “Since you weren’t listening when I explained it to you.”
“Basically.” She tilted her head in a chiding gesture, and he laughed. “Okay, you got me. Can you bail me out one more time? I want him to think I actually know what I’m doing here, and I figure showing him that I hire smart people is a solid place to start.”
“Trying to get on my good side?” she asked around a laugh that bubbled up on its own.
As she joined him at the door, he flashed her one of t
hose shameless Calhoun grins. “Always. It’s way safer than your bad side.”
“And don’t you forget it.”
She hadn’t felt this feisty in a long time, and it occurred to her that her confidence, which had been on a steady decline for months, had rebounded without her even noticing. Brian had a lot to do with that, and as she approached the visiting banker, she vowed to find a way to repay him for his faith in her.
Brian had built the small but well-lit display area from seasoned planks he’d found stashed in the old building’s rafters, and Lindsay thought the room had a rustic charm that suited his products perfectly. There were candlesticks, napkin holders, towel bars and even a couple of hanging pot racks. As Rick inspected them, he nodded a few times, which Lindsay interpreted as approval.
Then he turned with a smile. “These are really nice, and each one is a little different from the others. I’ve never seen anything like them.”
“Everything’s made by these,” Brian explained, holding up his callused hands. A little glimmer came into his eyes, and he asked, “Would you like a demonstration?”
“Would I— Absolutely!” the loan officer replied with enthusiasm that had to be for real. Because of his stylish clothes and Italian shoes, she hadn’t pegged him for a craft lover. Apparently she’d misread him completely.
Brian had to refire the banked coals, but that gave him the chance to show Rick how the archaic operation worked. After engaging the all-important air scrubber, he stirred up the embers and tossed in several shovelfuls of coal. Grasping the thick wooden handle of the restored bellows, he leveraged his considerable strength into the job of whipping up the flames before adding more coal.
The fire crackled in response, and he slid in a slender rod of metal. “We got an order for a trivet yesterday. The client wants it to be in the shape of a Celtic knot, so eventually there will be a lot of pieces welded in. But it starts like this.”
Before long, the iron was red-hot, and he pulled it from the fire. Resting it on an anvil the founders of the ironworks had hauled from Pennsylvania to New Hampshire in one of their wagons, he chose a meaty-looking hammer from a nearby rack of tools.
