“I don’t know. I was thinking more of a twirl, or a squeal. Maybe hands clasped in front of you.” He feigned a girlish position.
She shook her head again, but this time a laugh escaped. “You’re crazy, you know that? I don’t do giggles and glee, but I do like this house.”
Brent raised both hands in the air and did a two-step. “Well, hallelujah! I do believe my crew and I have been complimented.”
“Yeah, you have.” The smile slid off her face. “You’re doing a good job. Even Patrick couldn’t have done better.”
“Whoa.” He looked over and watched a myriad of emotions play across her face. “Okay, thanks. But what do you want?”
Her features hardened. “Nothing, all right? Nothing but my house and school.”
Chapter 5
Having a girls’ day was more fun than Allison anticipated. She’d been avoiding one-on-one with Sierra after the other woman’s mood swings and depression last fall when she’d been convinced she was dying of cancer.
This new, upbeat Sierra was a lot more fun. The other women teased that it was her engagement to Gabriel Rubachuk causing her to glow. Allison hated to burst anyone’s bubble. Likely Gabe himself would do that soon enough. Meanwhile, Sierra blissfully shopped for clothing and wedding decorations like there was no tomorrow, and Allison could relax a little.
“You haven’t told me what you’re looking for in a gift for your nephew.” Sierra stuffed another shopping bag into the Camry’s trunk. “It’s time to shift gears before I run out of money.”
Allison doubted that would happen any time soon. She’d been a guest at the Riehls’ Portland home on several occasions. It might not be the grand estate her parents had owned — and that she still needed to get rid of — but it was no shack in the slums either.
“I really don’t know Finnley all that well. I’ve only seen him a few times in the last year. What do four-year-old boys play with?”
Sierra shrugged. “You’ve got me. I don’t know any. Does he like to play outside? Build things? Look at picture books?”
Allison’s heart clenched. “Lori moves him so often I’m sure they leave stuff behind all the time. If it doesn’t fit in her car, it doesn’t come. And knowing her, her own things would take precedence over Finnley’s.” That little guy deserved so much better. He deserved a chance, at the very least — one he wasn’t likely to get any time soon.
“So sending him a bike or something like that might not be a good idea.” Sierra looked thoughtful, staring across the roof of the car.
“Probably not.” Allison sighed.
Sierra dabbed at her eyes.
Oh, man. Now the woman was crying over someone else’s nephew she didn’t even know. “He’ll be okay.” Allison hoped.
“It’s tough. So many unloved kids, and so many people who want them but can’t have any.” Sierra looked heavenward. “Are you listening, God? It’s not fair.”
Her voice stayed flat, but Allison knew Sierra’s thoughts were anything but. Allison reached over and touched Sierra’s arm. Probably the first time she’d ever done that to anyone. “Thanks for caring. I pray for Finnley every day, asking God to protect him. Asking God to step into Lori’s life and give her a good smack so she’ll see what she’s doing to both of them. She knows better.” Allison pondered those words. “At least she once did. I don’t know what the alcohol and drugs have done to her brain.”
“I’ll pray with you. Every day.”
“Thanks.” Allison met Sierra’s gaze, and something passed between them. Was this what it would be like to have a friend? She’d stood on her own all her life, the opposite of Lori. But neither of them had what normal people thought of as friends.
“Let’s go grab a coffee and figure out something for Finnley.” Sierra pointed down the street. “There’s a little coffee shop a few blocks away. We don’t even have to drive.”
Allison nodded. “You’re on.”
A few minutes later they sat in a little booth with coffee and pie in front of them.
“Don’t tell Jo. I have so missed lemon meringue pie.”
Allison grinned. “You need a bigger greenhouse if you want enough lemon trees to supply several families.”
“I know. But sometimes, in the fall, it’s nice to know the garden is going to freeze over. It means the frantic food preservation is coming to an end. That greenhouse adds work for a couple of months on either end of the growing season.”
“You’d have to keep it warmer for lemon trees, too. They wouldn’t do well in January and February in Idaho unless the space was heated.”
Sierra dropped her fork and leaned across the table. “We should totally plant a couple in the sunroom! It rarely dips below freezing in there, surrounded as it is by the house and backed by the thermal mass wall. I wonder if that would work. I sure miss lemons.”
“We can do some research and see. I don’t know at what temperature it’s simply not doable.”
“Hmm.” Sierra carved a tiny flake of meringue off her pie and put it in her mouth, sighing. “Claire uses red currant juice in place of lemon juice in some recipes, as it’s kind of tart. But she hasn’t tried it in pie that I know of.”
Allison shrugged. “So buy a few lemons now and again. The pie mixes are sure to be full of harmful chemicals, but you can make lemon pie from scratch.”
“No.” Sierra’s head was shaking before Allison finished. “It’s against our mandate. Everything must be grown locally except for a very few essentials, like salt.” She had a nibble of the yellow custard. “Sadly, lemon meringue pie is full of non-essentials.”
“Or you get kicked off the island?”
Sierra frowned. “Pardon me?”
“You know, Survivor-style. Claire and Jo would evict you from the farm if you brought lemons home?”
“Well, no. But we’ve all agreed on our lifestyle.” Sierra raised her eyebrows, fork poised above the pie. “As have you, by the way.”
Allison sighed. “I know. And I mostly believe in it.” She had a bite of the pie in front of her. It tasted of chemicals, and she pushed the plate away. “It can be taken too far.”
“Oh, I agree. You’ve seen our list of things we’ll buy, so long as they’re organic and fair trade.” Sierra lifted her coffee cup meaningfully.
“Right.” Allison shifted in her seat. “So I guess it’s about time I started taking my turn at cooking. No one has said anything yet.”
Sierra grinned. “Claire was figuring on asking you for next week. We all rotate, and the guys do Sunday.”
“I noticed that. Together. When is Zach’s night by himself? Or Noel’s?”
“Ha. You don’t want Zach to cook.”
“No, I’m serious. You don’t know if I’m a good cook. In fact, I’m not. How come he doesn’t have to take a regular night and I do? Seems kind of sexist.” There, she’d finally come out and said it.
Another bite of pie slid into Sierra’s mouth, followed by a swallow of coffee. “I can see how it might look that way.”
Right. Because it was.
“Zach is the only one who lives on the farm and has a full-time off-site job. He works more than fifty hours most weeks.”
“Uh huh? I’ll be teaching a lot of hours once we’re operational. Will I get off cooking duty?”
Sierra tipped her head to one side, her blue eyes meeting Allison’s gaze. “That’s a really good question. I don’t see why not. We’ll have to see how things go.”
Really? They’d bend for her? Whoa. She hadn’t expected that.
Her face must have shown her shock. Sierra carried on. “Claire and Noel both love to cook. They easily do more than half of the day-to-day cooking between them, but when they’re hosting backcountry trips, we adjust at home around it. When Jo was pregnant and throwing up every day, we let her off the hook for a while. It’s not a dictatorship, Allison. We adapt.”
“That’s good to know.” She managed to get the words out. Dictatorship. That’s what he
r dad had tried to run. It’s what her mother and Lori had rebelled against. Allison had been the good girl, trying to toe the line and do everything right. Maybe then Dad would tell her he was proud of her, that she measured up to his standards. She never had, no matter what she did.
All the money he’d left behind, the huge house in Arlington, the vacation house at Cannon Beach, the investments… she’d give it all up in a heartbeat to hear real words of approval from her father.
“Eat your pie,” Sierra said. “We bought the pieces. Don’t let it go to waste.”
Allison blinked the moisture from her eyes. “No, that’s okay. You can finish mine if you want.”
Sierra’s face lit up then slumped. “I really shouldn’t. I can’t afford to gain any weight. The seamstress has already started my wedding dress.”
“Another piece of pie won’t hurt.” Allison pushed it closer to Sierra. “Go for it.”
* * *
“You headed back to Coeur d’Alene for the weekend?”
Brent’s head came up and he stared at Noel Kenzie. “Uh, I figured so. Why?”
The other guy shrugged. “Just curious. Zach and I plan on some creek fishing Saturday. I saw you had a fly rod in your truck, and wondered if you’d like to join us.”
Brent couldn’t help the grin that slid across his face. “Man, I love fishing.” It didn’t take three more seconds to think through the sterile, lifeless weekend that awaited him in his apartment. They’d brought two company trucks up this week, so the guys could still escape. The town likely had a laundromat, which was the only other thing he needed. “What’s running?”
“Cut-throat, most likely.”
“You do some guiding, don’t you?”
Noel shrugged. “Yes, I do. But this is recreational. Not looking for you to pay me for the day. Just thought you might like to see some of the back country around here.”
“It’s cool terrain. More mountainous and more rain than back home.” He’d learned to slog through the mud and keep the job on track, though. “But yeah, I’d be honored to go with you guys. There’s sure no reason to drive back to an empty apartment.”
“We can’t have that. So let me expand the invitation to include church on Sunday and dinner at the farm afterward.” Noel waggled his eyebrows. “It’s guys’ day in the kitchen, if you’re up for that?”
Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. It wasn’t the fishing so much as getting too friendly with his clients. He kept forgetting that, while Allison might be the lead person, the rest of this gang also had an investment in the project.
“The kitchen doesn’t scare me.” Though maybe it should. Weren’t these people some kind of food fanatics? “It’s just… well… maybe it’s not a good idea.”
“We can make shop talk off limits.” Noel grinned. “If that helps.”
Had Patrick ever told him to keep business separate? Brent seemed to remember his aunt and uncle joining clients for golf. This wasn’t really any different. Besides, fishing was way more fun than golf.
Decision made. “Yeah, sure. Sounds good. I’d really like that.”
“Cool. We’ll head out mid-afternoon. I’ll pack up some sandwiches, so don’t worry about going hungry.”
“Oh, you don’t need to feed me. I can grab something from the deli counter at Super One.”
Noel grimaced. “I’m sure you can, but why? I’m offering you real food here, freshly made.”
“Well, in that case…” Brent chuckled. “I accept.”
Noel cuffed him on the arm. “Good.”
Chapter 6
The Timber Framing Plus truck jounced past the big house toward her house site. Brent waved.
At the window, Allison narrowed her gaze as she lifted her hand in greeting. She recognized the guy in the passenger seat, but where was the third one? And besides, Brent was at least ten minutes late.
She took a deep breath and let it out in a huff. Why did this feel so much like teaching college freshmen who were there simply to party or slide through? These men wouldn’t get a single thing done if she didn’t ride herd on them.
She certainly didn’t trust older men any more than young bucks, but surely Patrick didn’t know what was going on. She fingered her cell. She could call him. Oh, so tempting.
There couldn’t possibly be a reasonable explanation, could there? But previous conversations with the company owner filtered into her mind. Patrick would only stick up for Brent. Tell her everything was on the revised schedule. Everything was coming together just fine.
As if.
Allison grabbed her coat and headed onto the deck. Right, she needed that stupid hard hat or Brent wouldn’t even talk to her. At least her hair was flat anyway. Wearing the dumb thing didn’t mess up her hair, just the rest of her style. She reached inside to grab it before striding in the wake of the pickup truck.
Brent and Curtis stood looking up into the beam structure of her little house, pointing and nodding as she approached.
She plunked the glaring yellow hat on her head and stepped up beside Brent. “Hey, what’s up?” Casual was hard when all she wanted was to rip a strip off his hide.
“Good morning, Allison.” If eyes could smile without any mouth action, his did so as he glanced at her hard hat.
Nice he was amused. She glared. “Aren’t you missing part of your crew? Did Franco have to wait for the doughnuts to come out of the fryer or what?”
Curtis gave her a scathing look. He gritted his teeth, sent some sort of telepathic message to Brent, and stomped away.
Good. She didn’t like him anyway. Useless kid.
“Franco is in Spokane.” He held up his hand before she could respond. “His mother is in the hospital, and it’s not looking good.”
“Oh.” Compassion. Surely she could find some somewhere. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Hopefully he’ll be rejoining us in just a couple of days. Curtis and I will accomplish what we can without him this week.”
Allison wrestled her conscience. None of the things that had happened were personal slights. She hadn’t spared much thought for all the families affected by the fire in Milwaukee or the young driver who’d scarred some of her timbers in his stupidity. Franco’s mother certainly hadn’t fallen ill just to spite her, either.
Lord, please help me. I don’t want to be a witch. “I hope she’ll be okay.”
Brent shot her a surprised look.
What, he was shocked she had a human side? Man, this wasn’t the kind of person she wanted to be. But she didn’t want to think of these people as having real three-dimensional lives, either. She wanted them to be like actors in a movie, just playing their parts and going home at the end of the day, contented.
She realized he was speaking. “Pardon me?”
“We are all certainly praying for her, that God will either heal her or let her slip away peacefully… and quickly.”
So he was a Christian? Another dimension to a man she wanted to keep 2-D and at a distance. But she couldn’t let the implied challenge rest. “God answers prayer.”
“You’re a woman of faith, then?” His eyebrows vanished behind the hard hat’s brim.
Allison nodded. “Yes.” She hesitated. “God has seen me through many challenges in life.”
Brent nodded with a grimace. “Me, too. My life hasn’t always been an easy one, but God has been faithful to me and brought me through. He is good.”
Surely this was enough bonding. She didn’t want to know what problems he’d had in life. They couldn’t be as bad as being raised by her parents. She stepped to one side and pointed toward Curtis, setting up scaffolding. “You’ll miss Franco.”
“If you’re worried that your structures won’t go up in time, his absence for a few days won’t make that much difference.”
The old Brent. The one with a chillier voice. Better. She could deal with that more easily. She glanced at him, noting his clenched jaw. “How do you figure that?”
�
�We’ll be ready for the windows long before they arrive.”
Right. The windows. “Have you found another supplier?”
He nodded. “Patrick has them on order.”
Did she have to drag every word out of him? “And they’re expected when?”
Brent removed his hard hat, ran his fingers through his black hair, and replaced the hat. “End of June.”
That long? She closed her eyes, forcing her first reaction back. They’d be lucky to have the buildings completed by the end of summer at that rate. “I’m sure he did the best he could.” Only because he knew she’d call him on it if it seemed they were slacking.
Brent let out a long breath.
Relieved she hadn’t blown her top? Was she really that hard to work with? Probably.
“Yeah. He separated the orders and placed your house order first because there are way fewer windows on that one. That should get them here a week or two before the windows for the classroom building.”
He could have asked before making that decision. But still, she’d have agreed. The sooner she got out of Sierra’s pastel pink spare room the better. The rest of her hostess’s suite was even worse with its emphasis on purple, turquoise, and gold. Way overdone. Allison had picked a calming blue gray for her own home, from top to bottom. Light enough no one could complain it was depressing.
“Patrick will send a few extra guys when the windows come so we can move to completion as quickly as possible.”
She nodded. “I appreciate that.” There was still no way she’d be out of that duplex before Sierra’s end-of-June wedding. What were her options? Moving into a spare room at the big house? Maybe getting an apartment in town. Maybe she should look into it this week, and get a little space for all of them. Then the team wouldn’t have to figure out where to put her.
Right. They liked making decisions together. Had she really committed to that kind of lifestyle? She must’ve been crazy.
“Yo, boss!” Curtis called out. “Ready to start sheathing the roof.”
Dandelions for Dinner (A Farm Fresh Romance Book 4) Page 4
