by Mia Ross
She was about to dial the number for Morgan’s Garage when another thought materialized. This wasn’t Los Angeles, it was Barrett’s Mill. Around here, folks probably didn’t ask for this kind of special consideration via email or over the phone. Basically, Fred would be giving up an afternoon of Heath’s valuable time, reassigning those jobs so his employee could go help someone else. If she wanted to do it right, she’d go in person.
She had to pick up the printer anyway, she reasoned as she got her purse and went out to the truck. While she was in town, she’d get some lunch for all of them. With the way things had gone today, it would be nice to eat something more than sandwiches out of paper bags.
Driving toward the main road, she glanced at the mill in the rearview mirror and allowed herself a little smile. She’d been here only a couple of days, but already she was actively involved in the family business. After being consumed by the fateful twists and turns she’d been trying to navigate, she’d finally taken off the blinders to find that her life held much more potential than she’d realized.
And it felt wonderful.
Even though it was late morning now, she had no trouble finding a parking spot near Mill Office Supply. Just another difference between the crowded streets she was used to and this charming village. No circling the block waiting for someone to pull out of a space barely long enough to accommodate a compact car. When she got back to LA, she’d have to remember to brush up on her parallel parking. She didn’t doubt that after a two-month break, she’d be sorely out of practice.
Inside the shop, she found the clerk perched on top of a ladder, arranging binders and composition books on one of the higher shelves. “Good morning.”
“Hang on just a sec,” she replied, taking the last few notebooks out of the box before dropping it to the floor. Brushing off her hands, she descended the steps and gave Tess a bright, helpful smile. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m Tess Barrett, and I—”
“Oh, I know who you are.” Laughing, the friendly young woman offered a hand. “Paige Donaldson. I’ve heard all about you from my grandma Lila. She and your gram are like this.” She twined her index and middle fingers together like a pretzel. “How are you liking our little town so far?”
“It’s beautiful,” Tess replied with sincere enthusiasm. In the short time she’d been here, her father’s hometown had really grown on her. “And the people are so friendly.”
“That’s us,” Paige agreed with a bright smile. “Beautiful and friendly. I’d imagine you’re here to pick up that printer Chelsea dropped off last week. How’s she doing, by the way?”
Unsure of how much to say, Tess opted to keep her response vague. “The doctor’s keeping a close eye on her and the baby.”
“Well, next time you see her, tell her we’re all keeping her, Paul and the baby in our prayers. And give her a hug from me.”
Again with the praying. She’d encountered more religious people in the past few days than she had her entire life, and she couldn’t help wondering if maybe they had the right idea, after all. Tabling the possibility for another time, Tess thanked her and wandered through the aisles while she waited. She picked up a few odds and ends for the office and met Paige back at the counter.
“These holiday brochures were ready early, so that saves you a trip,” the clerk announced cheerfully, patting a box that sported a label from a print shop located in nearby Cambridge.
“Great. I’ll take a look at them when I get back.”
They settled the bill and Paige helped her lug everything outside. When she got a look at Tess’s wheels, she laughed. “This truck’s like a hot potato in your family, isn’t it?”
“I guess it is,” she agreed. “As long as Heath can keep it running, anyway.”
“He’s notorious around here. There’s not a girl within fifty miles who could walk past that man and not take a second look.”
Did he look back? Tess wondered before she could stop herself. They barely knew each other, so it was absolutely none of her business who he admired or ignored. She wasn’t normally the jealous type, so her reaction made no sense whatsoever. Then again, so little in her life made sense these days, she’d kind of gotten used to it.
“Is that right?” she asked to be polite.
“Oh, don’t get me wrong,” Paige added hastily. “He’s a great guy, but we’re more like cousins than anything. But if he ever took it into his head to change that, he wouldn’t have to ask me twice.”
She punctuated her confession with a wink, and Tess wasn’t sure how to respond. Finally, she settled for a nod and a quick good-bye before heading for the other side of town.
Before she knew it, she was making the turn into Morgan’s Garage. She didn’t find its owner in his office, but in one of the large bays, wrestling lug nuts from the tire of a delivery truck whose bright color made it look like a huge lemon on wheels. When Fred caught sight of her, he rose to his feet, wiping his hands on a rag he took from his back pocket. The motion reminded her of Heath, and Tess firmly brought her mind back to her very important mission.
“Mornin’, Tess.” Well-lined from what she assumed was a lifetime spent outside, Fred’s weathered cheeks crinkled with a smile. “It’s not often we get treated to such a pretty view in here. How’re things with you?”
Since coming to Barrett’s Mill, she’d been asked that more times than she could count. She was gradually getting accustomed to it, and she had a smile ready for him. “Aside from the time difference, I’m doing well. How about you?”
“Can’t complain, and if I did nobody’d listen, anyway.” With a good-natured chortle, he continued. “Olivia’s car needs more work than we thought at first. Parts are on their way, but it’ll be out of commission another day or two.”
“I’ll tell her later, but that’s not why I’m here.”
While she outlined her reason for coming, he gave her a frown that said he could easily relate to what they were going through. “Of course you can have him. That mill’s real important to folks around here, so we need to get it up and running. I’ll go fetch him for you on one condition.”
In her experience, conditions weren’t good for the one asking the favor. But the boys were in a jam, and beyond dragging Paul away from his ailing wife, she didn’t see any other options. Knowing how devoted he was to the family business, she suspected he’d agree to just about anything to get the benefit of Heath’s expertise, so she braced herself for Fred’s terms. “Okay.”
“If this turns out to be over Heath’s head, give me a call.”
“I’m sorry?” she said, totally confused.
“My granddaddy—God rest him—worked his whole career as a sawyer at that mill, raised six kids and had a good life because of the Barretts. Come to think of it, if you need me, I’ll be happy to come out and lend a hand myself.”
The sweet, generous offer just about floored her, and it took all she had not to gape at him. She’d never been around people who stepped up when things got tough for their neighbors, simply because it was the right thing to do. Even before his niece married Jason, Fred had felt a kinship with her family and was willing to put aside his own obligations to help them out. Beyond tradition, it was something she’d seen so rarely, she almost didn’t recognize it.
Honor.
Humbled and gratified all at once, she beamed at him. Suspecting he wouldn’t take kindly to any feminine gushing, she kept it simple. “Thank you, Fred. I’ll let Scott and Jason know.”
With a brisk nod, he headed out the large front door and around the side of the building. While she waited, she went out to the mill truck and took one of the freshly printed brochures from the box Paige had given her. Leafing through the matte pages, she admired the way it was laid out with more pictures than text. It gave the impression that you were strolling through the display area
of the mill yourself, rather than just reading about it.
Boyd and Daisy were featured in several of the pictures, and while the folksy approach was nice enough, she wondered if there was a better way to showcase the company’s offerings. The current material might speak to buyers who lived in the country, but many city dwellers might consider it hokey and not look past the presentation to appreciate the superior quality of the handcrafted furniture.
“Nice, huh?”
Heath’s voice descended on her from nowhere, and she jerked back in surprise, turning her ankle in the process. Her high heel buckled underneath her, and she instinctively started windmilling, desperately grasping for something to keep her from falling.
Just when she was convinced she was doomed to hit the pavement, two strong arms reached out and rescued her. Heath guided her to her feet as if she didn’t weigh a thing, circling his arms around her to keep her steady.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
It was the second time she’d heard that from him in as many days, and it was getting old. With her heart trying to slam its way out of her chest, she took a couple of deep breaths to regain her usual composure. Just when she thought she had a grip on her nerves, she looked up.
A pair of warm blue eyes gazed back at her, filled with an emotion she couldn’t begin to define. Not concern, but not humor, either, it was a look she hadn’t yet seen from him. Or from anyone else, for that matter.
Get a grip, Tess, she scolded herself impatiently. Say something. “Yes.”
Her answer was more clipped than she’d intended it to be, and she regretted the dimming effect it had on him. Releasing her, he took a step back. A big one.
“Fred said you wanted to talk to me.”
For a few moments she couldn’t recall why. Then it came to her, and she felt her cheeks warming with embarrassment. She was acting like a teenager with a crush on the school’s star running back, she realized, disgusted by her own foolishness.
While she explained why she’d crashed his day, he listened carefully, nodding and frowning in all the right places. Avery had never paid such close attention to anything she’d said, and she had to admit that despite the serious nature of her errand, she liked being treated with so much respect.
When she was finished, he gave her a bewildered look. “I can come out and take a look, but I don’t know much about nineteenth-century gadgets. It could take me a while.”
“While you get your tools together, I’ll head over to The Whistlestop to pick up lunch for the boys. I can add an order for you, if you want.”
“I’ve got my own lunch.” Mischief glinted in his eyes, and he stepped closer. “But I don’t wanna eat in the middle of all that sawdust.”
The playful twinkle she’d noticed warmed with something entirely different, and she couldn’t drag her eyes away. Not that she tried very hard. Thankfully, logic broke into her daze and kick-started her brain. “The office is still a mess, but you’re welcome to eat in there.”
She heard the stiffness in her tone and barely managed not to cringe. That was the cool, professional voice she’d cultivated for difficult customers, and it was sorely out of place here. Since she couldn’t take it back, the only thing she could do was hope that Heath wouldn’t notice.
Unfortunately, his scowl made it clear that he noticed everything. “Actually, I was thinking we could eat lunch together. After our conversation this morning, I thought you were warming up to me. Am I wrong?”
Was that the impression she’d been giving him? Tess wondered. Taking a moment to think it over, she realized she was standing as far from him as she could, arms crossed in a defensive gesture she hadn’t been aware of until now. What on earth was wrong with her? He was an old family friend who’d generously agreed to leave his paying job and drive out into the woods to help them. She should be embracing him, not giving him a hard time.
Then again, hugging him wasn’t the brightest notion she’d ever had, and she reminded herself of her vow to keep him at a safe, friendly distance. Summoning her brightest smile, she said, “Not a bit. I’m just a little out of sorts is all. It’s been an eventful morning.”
“You don’t have to pretend everything’s okay, Tess,” he murmured, sympathy flooding his eyes. “Take my word on this one—it doesn’t work for very long.”
“I’m making do.”
Studying her for several long, uncomfortable moments, he slowly shook his head. “You wanna lie to me, fine. Just make sure you’re being honest with yourself.”
* * *
The drive out to the mill was uncomfortable, to say the least.
Tess didn’t glance at him even once, and the firm set of her delicate jaw told him in no uncertain terms that his comment about honesty had hit a very sore spot. It underscored his belief that she was hiding something from her family, but he figured now wasn’t the time to try to shoehorn any closely held secrets from her.
Now was the time to apologize. He’d learned long ago that when it came to women, it didn’t matter who was wrong and who was right. What counted was who made the amends. So he swallowed his pride and said, “Tess, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“You didn’t.”
The airy tone was obviously meant as a verbal brush-off, but her stony expression told him otherwise.
Least said, soonest mended. His grandmother’s wise advice echoed in his memory, and he decided to follow it. If Tess wanted to take up the subject with him again in the future, she knew where to find him.
When they reached the mill, she couldn’t get away from him fast enough. Bolting from the truck, she went up the steps and into the lobby, shoulders stiff and her cute little nose in the air. He suspected that if the screen door would’ve cooperated, she would’ve slammed it for good measure.
Leaving Tess and her puzzling attitude behind, he strode toward the lumberyard and was greeted by a rousing cheer. He acknowledged their enthusiastic welcome then held up his hands in a calming gesture. “Okay, boys, what’ve you done now?”
“We’ve got no clue,” Scott admitted in the same direct way he’d used since they’d squared off on the playground in kindergarten, each determined to be the first one to go down the new slide. When they weren’t looking, Jimmy Griggs had scampered up the ladder and skunked them both. Angry at being outdone by their quick-thinking classmate, Heath and Scott had been friends ever since.
“Everything’s covered in oil,” Jason chimed in. “Does that help?”
“Maybe,” Heath allowed, going onto the bridge to inspect the mechanism that ran the waterwheel. His first thought was that some debris that had floated downstream might be caught in the paddles or the dam opening, but they were clear. Since everything looked okay outside, the three of them went up the side steps that led into the saw room. When he got a glimpse of the mess, he groaned.
“Yeah, that’s what we said, too,” Scott told him with a grim look. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”
“It’s not good, that’s for sure.” He wouldn’t be needing any tools until he could figure out what to fix, so he set his box down on the side porch to keep it clean. “Anything else I should know?”
“Isn’t this enough?” Jason added a wry grin. “If you’re looking for more of a challenge, we could go break something else for you.”
“No, I’m good. Just get outta my way and let me work.”
Laughing, they turned and went back to the rough-cut station. The massive saw hanging in its stocks looked as if it could take down a whole forest if you left it running, and Heath marveled at how deftly they operated the lethal-looking machine. He was pretty coordinated himself, but you couldn’t have paid him enough to run that thing.
Inside, he started with a pile of rags and enough degreaser to choke an elephant. When the equipment was as clean as he could get it, he stood in front
of the parallel saw runs and studied the works carefully. Long leather belts were looped over a complex system of pulleys and rollers, leading down to the floor where they were engaged by a wooden lever that went through an opening in the floor to the waterwheel.
Based on very grim experience, he knew this setup was a tragedy waiting to happen. Grabbing an empty cardboard box, he broke it down to form a shield that he placed over the handle and nailed to the wall behind it. In the storeroom he found some huge markers used for labeling boxes. He snagged one and finished his safety warning in large, bold letters.
DO NOT USE WHEEL—HEATH
He was adding the date when he heard soft footsteps coming up behind him. Turning, he saw Tess, carrying an armful of leather-bound books and wearing what appeared to be a pair of well-loved leather moccasins. Hoping to break their icy impasse, he chuckled. “I’m thinking that’s not the look your Beverly Hills designer was after.”
To his great relief, she laughed and held out her foot to admire the slipper. “I found them under the old woodstove in the office. I thought they worked.”
“What happened to your fancy Italian shoes?”
“One of the heels is broken. And they’re from Paris, thank you very much.” The sassy tone went perfectly with the spark in her eyes, and he was glad to see she seemed to have recovered from their earlier skirmish. He just wished he could say the same about himself.
If he brought it up, she’d have the perfect opening to blast him again. But he’d obviously hurt her, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep if he didn’t at least try to make things right with her.
Moving toward her, he took a deep breath and braced himself for a good old-fashioned dressing down. “Tess, I was outta line earlier. I’m real sorry.”
As if he’d flipped some unseen switch, her eyes narrowed with that infamous Barrett temper, and she met him in the middle of the floor. Most folks were intimidated by his size, whether or not they’d come out and admit it. But not this woman, he noticed with honest admiration. They were steel toe to moccasin, staring at each other, and she hadn’t even flinched.
