Baby, Come Home

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Baby, Come Home Page 12

by Stephanie Bond


  How was it that the world seemed smaller in Sweetness?

  15

  Kendall realized the Department of Energy representative had said something and was waiting for a response. “I’m sorry. Could you repeat that?” He was definitely off his game today.

  Dale Richardson put down his pen. “Maybe we should take a break. We’ve been going at it for a while, and I realize I pulled you off a job.”

  It wasn’t the job he was missing. He was frustrated at not being able to spend the day with Amy, possibly even revisiting that scorching kiss that had left him tossing and turning last night.

  “No, it’s fine,” Kendall said. “The job is in good hands.”

  “Oh, yeah, Amy’s the best.”

  Kendall angled his head. “Just curious—how do you know Amy?”

  Suddenly, the man’s expression shuttered. “Uh…we worked together…on a couple of state projects.”

  “In Michigan?”

  “Er, yeah.” Richardson picked up his pen. “We really should get back to this if we’re going to finish today.”

  “Right,” Kendall said, recognizing the blow-off. The man didn’t want to talk about Amy. He knew Tony, the man she was involved with, but maybe Dale and Amy had something going, too. Maybe that’s why he’d asked if Tony was around, to see if the coast was clear.

  Kendall gripped a pencil until it bit into his fingers. He’d assumed that she’d dated and—gulp—slept with other men. He just didn’t want to meet them. The pencil snapped in two, startling Richardson.

  “Sorry,” Kendall said. “Maybe we should start the tour. We can talk while we walk.”

  “Sounds good.” The man seemed relieved for a change of venue.

  On the way out of the office, they ran into Porter. Kendall made the introductions.

  “I’m having dinner tonight with you and your fiancée,” Richardson said as they shook hands.

  Porter paled. “Nikki and I aren’t engaged…yet.”

  “But soon,” Kendall said, clapping Porter’s shoulder. “Because Porter is going to build a church next.”

  Porter shot daggers at him.

  “Amy Bradshaw invited me to dinner,” Richardson said. “I hope that’s okay—Amy and I are old friends.”

  Kendall set his jaw.

  “No, that’s great,” Porter said, then turned to Kendall. “Why don’t you join us, bro? You know Nikki always makes plenty.”

  He opened his mouth to say yes, then remembered he’d promised Rachel they would have dinner tonight and he’d fix her bedroom wall. He toyed with the idea of both of them joining the foursome, but he was afraid of what Rachel might say in front of Amy to give her the wrong impression…again.

  “Thanks, but I already have plans,” he mumbled, now truly in a sour mood.

  Porter clapped him on the back. “Too bad.” Then out of the corner of his mouth, Porter hissed, “Smile, bro.”

  This time Kendall was the one shooting daggers. But he tried to rally during the foot tour, reminding himself that Richardson held their purse strings.

  True to their adopted slogan that Sweetness was “The Greenest Place on Earth,” they had incorporated energy savings and recycling into every aspect of living in Sweetness. He tried to make a production of showing off their efforts, but seemed to be foiled at every step.

  While they were at the school, a prankster pulled the fire alarm, and bedlam ensued. At the windmill farm, the air was dead—nary a blade moved. The organic garden had gotten perhaps a little too natural—their experiments with compost fertilizers had created such a stench, both men had to stand with their sleeve over their nose and mouth.

  At the mulching operation where rubber tires were being shredded into mulch that wouldn’t break down, the conveyor belt had broken so the impressive process couldn’t be observed. At the clinic, Nikki and company were dealing with an influenza outbreak, and it was clear Richardson was a germaphobe by the way he recoiled every time someone sneezed. At the General Store, Kendall had to extinguish a small fire from an overly ambitious candle display. And at the Postal Counter, the postmistress’s fourteen-year-old (obviously not a federal employee) was giving out mail. At the boardinghouse, the first occupant they encountered was the injured doe the women had domesticated and given run of the place.

  Given the calamitous nature of the day, Kendall was more than a little reluctant to take the man up the mountain on four-wheelers to climb the big white tower that provided the town’s water supply. After all, Porter had fallen off twice and broken bones both times. But Richardson seemed keen on making the climb, so Kendall went up with him, holding his breath the entire way. Thankfully, they made it to the platform that surrounded the tower intact.

  “Now this is something you don’t see every day,” Richardson said, scanning the breathtaking view of the mountains that surrounded Sweetness and the gorge at the bottom.

  “We like it,” Kendall agreed, breathing in air so clean it burned his lungs. “See that tall evergreen next to the rock that’s shaped like a horn? That’s our cell tower.”

  “Clever.” His guest gestured to a swath of land where the tree growth was uniformly shorter than the areas around it. “Is that damage from the tornado ten years ago?”

  “Right,” Kendall said, then pointed. “The funnel cloud formed at that end of the valley.”

  “And the mountains funneled the twister right into your town?”

  Kendall nodded. “Because of this natural bowl, it had gained terrific force by the time it reached Sweetness. I wasn’t living here at the time, but my younger brother, Porter, was home on leave from the Army, and the devastation…well—you’ve seen the pictures.”

  Richardson nodded. “Stunning. It’s a miracle no one was killed.”

  “We think so, too,” Kendall said, then tapped the handrail that surrounded the water tower. “This is where the twister was spotted and the alarm was sounded. Otherwise, who knows how many lives would’ve been lost.”

  “I didn’t realize tornadoes struck at this altitude.”

  “They don’t usually. We get lots of powerful thunderstorms, but that twister was a freak of nature.”

  “Let’s hope lightning doesn’t strike twice. I’d hate to see all your hard work get blown away.”

  “We’re better prepared this time,” Kendall said. “Stronger buildings, better communication systems. But yes, I hope we don’t ever have to see how well we could withstand another monster like that. Ready to move on?”

  “Sure.” Richardson patted his stomach. “I’m looking forward to checking out your diner.”

  Kendall maintained his frozen smile. “Actually, it’s more of a cafeteria than a diner,” he said in an effort to lower the man’s expectations. “There is no cost to residents since it’s part of the free-room-and-board program.”

  “Sounds good,” the man said.

  But just as Kendall feared, it wasn’t.

  When they walked into the crowded dining hall, Molly and Rachel were engaged in a shouting match over the salmon croquettes that were being served for lunch. Kendall had to admit the greenish pucks didn’t look appetizing. Ditto for the gray mashed potatoes.

  “This food is inedible!” Rachel shouted. “And we’re tired of eating crap in here!”

  Behind the serving counter, Molly’s face was a mottled red. “Then go eat crap somewhere else!”

  “There isn’t anywhere else to eat!”

  “Precisely!”

  “Ladies,” Kendall soothed, moving forward. “We have a visitor.”

  He prided himself on being able to mediate just about any situation, but they completely ignored him.

  Rachel picked up one of the salmon patties and pounded it on a stainless-steel counter for effect. “This isn’t food, it’s a weapon!”

  Molly’s face screwed up. “Let’s just see about that!” She picked up a patty, wound up and threw it at Rachel, who thankfully had the agility to duck.

  Richardson wasn’t so lucky.
It nailed him in the neck.

  “Ow!”

  “Jesus!” Kendall yelled. “Everyone, calm down!”

  But it was too late. A bona fide food fight had erupted. Salmon croquettes landed like grenades, and mashed potatoes rained down like hail. Kendall braved the melee to snag a couple of protein bars from a side counter, then grabbed Richardson’s arm and dragged him out of there, but not before they both were pelted.

  Kendall shut the door behind them and gave the man a weak smile. “I guess it goes without saying that all of that food will go into our compost bins.”

  Richardson returned a flat smile, pulling mashed potatoes out of his hair.

  Kendall handed him a handkerchief and a protein bar, then pulled out his phone. “Excuse me just a moment.” He stepped away, then dialed Marcus’s cell phone number.

  “Hello,” Marcus said.

  “Wherever you are, get to the dining hall. All hell finally broke loose.”

  Marcus cursed. “Can’t you handle it?”

  Kendall lowered his voice. “I’m babysitting the D.O.E. guy, who, by the way, just got hammered with a piece of flying fish.”

  Marcus released a string of curses this time. “I’ve had it with those women! I—”

  Kendall disconnected the call, then offered Dale Richardson a smile. “Have you heard about our Lost and Found warehouse?”

  He pocketed his phone, then led the man in the direction of the large building, extolling the virtues of the program that matched former residents with found belongings.

  But throughout the tour, he had a sinking feeling their checkpoint review was going to be negative, at best. Why, today of all days, did everyone and everything in town have to go to hell? He needed to leave the day on a high note, so after a leisurely tour of the warehouse, he described the pending arrival of the scientist who wanted to study the medicinal qualities of the prolific kudzu vine.

  “Hence the need for a bridge to provide access to that section of land,” he said. “Let’s go talk to Amy about the covered bridge she’s designing based on the original that was destroyed by the twister. She’s even using some reclaimed materials.”

  But he could tell Richardson’s attention was waning. The man glanced at this watch. “Amy and I can discuss the bridge at dinner. Which reminds me, I brought a change of clothes. Is there a place where I can shower before dinner?”

  “There’s a shower in the office,” Kendall said, irritated that this man was going to get to spend the evening with her. “Help yourself, the door’s unlocked.”

  “Thanks. Also, I was wondering if there’s a place where I might pick up dessert.” The man grinned. “I seem to remember that Amy has a thing for chocolate.”

  Kendall bit down on his cheek. “Sorry…can’t help you there.”

  “Okay, thanks for the tour. I’m going to interview a few residents before I get cleaned up. I’d like to get a sense for how people feel about this place as a community. After all, this experiment is about more than reducing the carbon footprint, isn’t it?”

  “Right,” Kendall said, managing a smile. Considering the black cloud that had settled over the town today, they were sunk.

  “I hope to see you again before I take off.” Richardson extended his hand. “If not, good luck, Armstrong, with…well, with everything.”

  Kendall had the oddest feeling the man was talking about something other than the checkpoint report. “Thanks.”

  As soon as the man climbed into his vehicle, Kendall headed back to the construction bridge site. The cloudy day had ushered in an early dusk. Workers were calling it a day. But he could tell from this vantage point that a lot of progress had been made on the metal bridge—more than he’d expected. He spotted Amy and his pulse picked up. No other woman could look so sexy in a hard hat.

  He walked over and she looked up, then smiled and removed her hat. Her amazing red hair tumbled down in all its wildness. Her face was smudged with dirt and her shoulders drooped, but her eyes were bright. She loved her work…and he loved that about her. He loved the strong, capable woman she’d become. More than anything, he’d like to carry her off to a warm bubble bath to wash away the day’s grime and climb in with her.

  “How was your day?” he asked.

  “From the look on your face,” she said, “better than yours. How did it go with Dale?”

  “Not great,” he admitted. “So if you have the chance to say something positive about the town while you’re having dinner, it might make a difference in his report.”

  Amy’s hazel eyes darkened. She looked off into the distance, as if trying to conjure up some good memories of this place.

  “I’m sorry to put you on the spot like this,” he said, feeling like a heel. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

  Amy looked back at him, then gave him a little smile. “I’ll think of something.” Then she carried her hard hat to her SUV, climbed inside and drove away.

  16

  Amy laughed into her dinner napkin at Dale’s re-telling of the food fight scene. “I almost wish I’d been there.”

  “Be glad you weren’t,” Dale said, then pointed to the strawberry-size bruise on his neck. “I’m not sure my fiancée is going to buy the story that I got this from a piece of flying salmon.”

  They all laughed heartily, then Nikki fanned her face. “I hate to say it, but that food fight has been brewing for a long time.”

  “Oh?” Dale asked casually. “Is there a lot of dissension among the residents?”

  A little red flag raised in Amy’s mind. She glanced across the great room of the boardinghouse to where Kendall and Rachel were having dinner alone. On the corner of their table sat a white bakery box, probably another chocolate cake, she thought, her mouth watering. Remembering Kendall’s earlier plea and her promise to help if she could, Amy squashed her feelings of jealousy and turned a smile in Dale’s direction. “Sweetness is the most peaceful place on earth. That’s what makes the food fight so funny.”

  “So you have good memories of growing up here?” Dale asked.

  Amy managed to maintain the smile. “That’s right. There’s nothing like growing up in a small town.” The sameness, the isolation…the sameness.

  “So tell me about this covered bridge you’re building. Is that what you were working on today?”

  She shook her head. “That’s the construction bridge that will give us access to the other side of the creek so we can build the covered bridge more quickly.” She conjured up a picture of Evermore Bridge in her head. “The covered bridge will be just north of there, on the most picturesque part of Timber Creek, in my opinion. The old bridge was spectacular, the truss work alone was a work of genius. Did you know it was built from virgin timber in these mountains? Imagine, trees that have been growing for three hundred years, maybe more.”

  “Kendall mentioned you were able to incorporate some of the original wood in the new design?”

  “Only because of the recovery efforts. Kendall recognized pieces of the bridge and stored them in the Lost and Found warehouse in the event they could be used again. He gets all the credit.”

  They were all staring at her. She realized how dreamy her tone had sounded. “Porter and Marcus, too,” she added quickly.

  “Not me,” Porter said, shaking his head. “I always thought the covered bridge was a neat landmark— Marcus, too—but Kendall was the one completely fixated on it.” He looked at Amy. “Not sure why.”

  She tingled. Porter had to know it was where she and Kendall had rendezvoused. “I’m sure it was the budding engineer in him,” she offered. Then she smiled at Nikki and changed the subject. “Dinner was delicious. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” Nikki said, all smiles.

  “Nikki is from Broadway, too,” Amy said to deflect attention from herself. “She seems to have acclimated well to small-town living.” She winked at her friend.

  “And are you the same Nikki referenced on the water tower?” Dale asked.


  Nikki darted a glance at Porter, then grinned. “I am.”

  “Quite a statement,” Dale said, tipping his wineglass to Porter.

  Porter put his arm around Nikki and squeezed. “It seemed to work.”

  Amy watched the couple, so obviously enamored with each other, and gave in to pangs of envy. She sneaked another glance across the room to Kendall and Rachel. The curvy woman was setting plates of food on the table. Their mouths moved in what she assumed was easy banter, not the tense, barbed remarks that she and Kendall traded. No wonder he preferred the blonde’s company.

  She watched him smile at Rachel, then bring a loaded forkful of food to his mouth. He chewed, then stopped, the expression on his face changing from pleasant to confused to painful. His eyes widened and he swallowed, then reached for his water glass. Amy remembered telling Rachel that he liked his meals spicy and cringed.

  Maybe she’d overdone it a little.

  The water seemed to make matters worse. Kendall choked and sputtered, gasping for breath. Everyone turned to stare, and Nikki was instantly on alert.

  “Is Kendall okay?” she asked Porter, then pushed to her feet and headed in his direction. Porter followed.

  Amy took another drink of wine, hoping the moment would pass. But Kendall couldn’t stop coughing. It was clear that whatever had caused the reaction was pretty potent. His face was red and he wheezed, clutching his throat. He leaned over at the waist, gripping the edge of the table as he coughed with enough force to cause the dishes to clatter.

  Rachel was on her feet, beating him on the back. “I used super-hot peppers,” she told Nikki, then sent a glare in Amy’s direction.

  Amy squirmed and emptied her wineglass.

  “Let’s get him to a sink,” Nikki said. “Rachel, find some bread for him to eat. It’ll soak up the capsaicin.”

  Porter helped Kendall to his feet and they walked him, still gasping for air, out of the room.

  “This is an interesting little place,” Dale said. “Lots of character.”

  Amy managed a smile. “Yes, indeed.”

  “Were you living here when the tornado struck?”

 

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