by Rachel Hauck
“Move out?” Reggie turned to the desk and gathered the scattered invoices. “Wh–why would I move out?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know . . . move on with life . . . maybe—”
“Move on with my life?” She stood, gesturing to the long narrow office, a set of invoices crumpled in her hand. “What do you call this?”
Al bit into the donut and chewed, regarding her. “Who was that fella who showed up looking for you? The one with the accent?”
“Just some dude.” Reggie jerked open a file drawer. Now, why did Al want to rain on her sunny Monday?
“You’re clamming up. Must be an old flame?”
“Old flame? There must be more than chocolate in your milk if you’re accusing me of having an old flame.” She slammed the drawer shut. “When have you ever known me to have any flame?”
“Never, but I was hoping you had a secret.”
Oh, she had a secret all right. Just not the kind Al expected. In fact, her whole family had a secret. Of the royal princess kind.
For two days Reggie had immersed heart and mind into her life, balancing Tanner’s announcement with an ordinary, everyday routine.
She did the shop’s books on Saturday morning, then helped her neighbor Mrs. Shaw rake the leaves from her fall flower garden.
On a whim, she drove to the furniture store and almost bought furniture.
That evening, Mark came over as promised with a big bag of Chinese food. He was tan and cheery from sailing, with an extra jolt of charm.
When Reggie suggested a romantic comedy for movie night, he agreed instantly instead of protesting and rattling off the merits of the latest blow-’em-up thriller.
He stayed on his side of the friendship line, so she pushed off having a serious conversation with him about their relationship. Hey, maybe he’d finally heard her.
Sunday morning, Reggie sat in church all but convinced she’d have to pass on Mr. Tanner Burkhardt’s offer. Hessenberg would have to weather the end of the entail without her. Her life was here. In Florida. With Daddy and Sadie, close to Mama and Great Gram’s graves, to her friends, her family.
She was born to restore classic cars, not an ancient country.
Besides, if God decided to wait twenty-nine years to tell her she was a princess, Reggie knew darn well he’d not expect her to go “all in” over a weekend. He just didn’t roll that way. Did he?
She’d determined to tell Tanner no until Pastor Stuart closed his message with a line that speared her right between the eyes.
“What are you giving your life and energy to achieving? Your purposes or God’s?”
God’s, of course.
Pastor leaned over the edge of the stage toward the congregation. Leaned toward her. Did his piercing gaze really land on her or did she just imagine it?
“If God is calling, why are you refusing?”
Who’s refusing! He’s not calling.
“Reg, hey, Reg.” Al snapped his fingers. “What’s going on behind your faraway stare?”
“What’s going on? I’ll tell you what’s going on. You . . . asking me all these questions.” She walked out of the office into the shop and started organizing the tools on the peg board.
Al came after her, set his chocolate milk on the workbench, and grabbed her hands. “Whatever it is, it’s going to be all right. Hear me?”
Tears sprouted in her eyes. “You have no idea, Al.”
“Not unless you want to tell me. But I do know this. God never misses.”
“Au contraire, he missed big this time.” She moved a torque wrench from one side of the peg board to the other. There. Perfect. How could she have let that be out of place all this time? “What’s your news anyway? Come on, I could use some donut-chocolate-milk kind of good news.”
“Oliver Claremont is coming to see us.”
Reggie jerked toward him. “The Duesenberg owner?”
Al sipped his milk like a fine wine. “One and the same.”
“I knew it. I knew it.” She banged the workbench with her hand. “Yes, yes, yes!” Arms raised, head back, she spun in a circle. “Thank you, thank you.” She blew heaven a kiss. “See, I knew this was where I belonged.” Okay, so God had her back after all. He didn’t miss. She was to stay put, right here in Tally.
Poor Tanner. She hoped it went well for him when he returned to Hessenberg without her.
“Reg, hold on. He’s just coming to check us out, but—”
“Shush, Al, no doubts.” She wrapped him in a big hug, rocked side to side, and turned her thoughts into a song. “We have a Cor-ve-ette . . . and a Du-du-duesy.”
“Reg, listen to me.” Al walked to the middle of the shop, one hand motioning to the work space, the other sporting his treasured milk. “Look around. You think Claremont is going to feel safe leaving his car in this old barn?”
Reggie frowned, joining him in the middle of the bay. “Urban did.” She peered up at the ceiling, then around the walls. A few of the boards were splintered near the roofline, and on the west side, the walls got wet if the wind slanted the rain at the right angle.
“It’s dusty in here,” Al said. “And the old doors don’t close all the way.”
“We padlock them.” Reggie walked toward the doors, examining the old locks. “Danny Hayes trusted his car here.”
“Danny didn’t have a rare, million-dollar car. And to be honest, I’m not so sure Urban should leave that Vet in here. He paid three hundred grand for that thing and, Reg, a lot of people saw him park it here Friday night.”
“Shh, Al.” Reggie scooted over to him, holding up her finger to his lips. “Don’t go declaring bad things over us.”
“I’m taking a realistic look at our setup, Reg.” He shoved her hand away. “And don’t point that thing at me. I’m your elder, girl.”
“Okay, fine.” Reggie stuffed her hands in her coverall pockets. “Then we have to find a better shop. Think outside the box.”
Wasn’t this the beauty of Mondays? Finding a new lease on life? Living instead of merely existing?
“Well, look for a box that’s got some money in it,” Al said. “Reg, shug, we’ve had some luck come our way with these cars, but I need to confess that when we opened up this shop I was really just—”
The low, power rumble of a Porsche downshifting interrupted and punctuated Al’s sentence.
“Sounds like Mark.” Reggie walked to the open barn doors and called to Mark as he stepped out of his car. “What are you doing here on a Monday afternoon?”
“Coming to see you two,” Mark said, pointing at her and Al with his signature smile, wearing his trademark khakis and a starched, button-down shirt. He hooked his arm around Reggie as he entered the barn. “I’ve got an idea.”
“What kind of idea?” Al finished off his milk. “Donuts are in the office, Mark.”
“Great, thanks. Listen, Al, Reg, let me run this by you.” Mark stood in the middle of the workshop, facing Reggie and Al. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of this sooner, but I’ve got a huge warehouse on the north side of town that’s been empty for a year. I can’t find a tenant I like or trust.”
“That big place on Meridian?” Reggie said with a glance at Al. “It’s three times the size of this place.”
“Secure?” Al said.
“Steel construction with overhead door locks, alarm system, barred windows, and a barrier fence.”
“Square footage?”
“Three thousand. All under air with a separate unit for the office. There’s a break room with a full kitchen.” Mark grinned. “You can have a desk without donut dust on it, Reg.”
Reggie studied him through narrowed eyes. “What’s the catch? How much?” This was Mark’s MO. Get people salivating over his idea or project, get them believing they can’t live without it, and then lower the money boom. “This sounds a little too good to be true.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Al said.
“Ah, friends, it’s me, Mark.” He
slapped his hand over his heart. “I can’t believe you don’t trust me.” Holding his arms wide, he grinned, seemingly very pleased with himself. “There’s no catch. The warehouse is free.” He settled his hands on his hips and leaned toward Reg, then Al. “How about them apples?”
“Free?” Al said, with Reggie echoing, “Free?”
“Free,” Mark said. “Look, I’m paying the insurance and taxes now. Why not put it to use? You guys move in, pay the utilities, and I’ll cover the rest.”
“No way.” Reggie shook her head, hands on her hips. “Don’t believe him, Al. There’s always a catch.”
“Mark,” Al said, low and sergeant-like. “Is this your way of getting Reg to marry you?” he asked without hesitation.
“What? No.” Mark paced off a few steps. “You think I’m so desperate I’d manipulate her like this? Al, come on.”
In that moment, Reg saw the young Mark hungry for approval. Wanting to belong. “I believe you, Mark. But are you sure you don’t want some kind of rent or payment?”
“Look, I’ll admit when Reg decided to leave her job I thought she was nuts. Toss over a great position at a top CPA firm to rat around with smelly old cars? What kind of career is that for someone like her? But then I realized we all have to do what we love, and if she stood a chance of succeeding—”
“We, Mark. We. Al and me. It was his idea. He is the expert. I’m still learning.”
“Fine. Whatever. If y’all stood a chance of succeeding.” He made a face at her. “What’s that car Al called you about? The one you might get to restore. Had you all hyped up the other night.”
“The Duesenberg.”
“Right, a Duesenberg. Really? A Duesy? How’d I miss that? Anyway, you got Urban’s Vet in here, and I’m pretty sure if someone really wanted to break in they could. You need a secure place. I have a secure place. Empty and waiting.”
“You’re serious, son?” Al said, arms folded over his lean, muscled chest, the empty milk glass still in his hand. “A new, secure facility would help Oliver swing his decision our way.”
“Then it’s a deal?” He glanced between Reggie and Al.
“Well, Reg, what do you—”
“Mark, in the office.” She grabbed his arm and dragged him off, leaving Al to wait. Closing the door behind her, she faced Mark, arms folded.
“Last week you were asking me to be a power couple with you. You thought opening the shop was some kind of crisis for me. Now you’re all on board?” She queried him with her gaze. “If we do this, it’s strictly business.” She’d not hold back her feelings. The weekend taught her that secrets and silence hurt innocent people. “No funny business on the side.”
“Reg, I heard you, and I’m down with us just being friends. But can’t a friend lend another friend the use of his property? Lots of people helped me out when I needed it.” He finally spied the donuts and went for one. “I never will forget your dad coming to the trailer, getting Mom to sign me up for baseball. Changed my life. Now it’s my turn to lend a helping hand.”
“No strings. All business. We’ll sign a lease and everything.”
“Absolutely. All business.” He offered his free hand. “Deal?”
She hesitated, but the smile in her heart tugged on her lips. “Deal.” She took his hand, but he pulled her into a one-armed embrace and whispered in her ear, “I had fun Saturday night.”
“Mark—” She pushed away.
“Relax, Reg.” He laughed and headed out. “Al, I’ll have the papers drawn up and the keys sent over. See y’all later. Thanks for the donut.” White powder floated above Mark’s head as he waved the donut in the air.
Reggie turned to Al. “What do you think?”
“I think we got us a place, Reg.” He swept her up in a sweet hug. “I was about to tell you I didn’t . . .” He set her down and flagged off his comment. “Never mind. Nothing negative, right?” His smile lit his eyes. “We just might make a go of this thing yet.”
“Now you’re talking.”
“I’m going to call Oliver. Convince him we can handle his Duesenberg.” Al started for the office. “Listen, let’s make a moving plan. Might as well move the Vet as soon as we get the keys.”
“Sounds good. Can’t wait to tell Rafe and Wally.” Reggie walked back to the open barn doors and stared toward the quiet road.
As much as she knew they needed the space and security of the warehouse, she was sure going to miss this sweet ole place.
But now, as the afternoon breeze snapped around the side of the barn, stirring up the dry leaves, awakening the fragrance of fall, a fresh yearning twisted in Reggie’s soul.
Three days ago, Mark’s offer would have been the most glorious news. A sign from God. You go, Al and Reg.
Today it felt . . . wrong.
What happened to yesterday’s confidence? To Tallahassee being her home. Classic cars her life.
“Reg,” Al called from the office. “Phone for you.”
She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Be right there.”
Pausing one more second as the leaves skirted past her feet, Reggie returned to her Sunday morning confidence about this being her life. Al. The shop. The cars.
Yet everywhere her mental eye roamed Tanner Burkhardt shadowed her thoughts and whispered to her heart that she was the Princess of Hessenberg.
ELEVEN
Determined, focused, Tanner entered the barn, keen on speaking with Regina.
He’d not be deterred. He had a mission. Be on the plane tonight. With the princess.
The car bay was peaceful, empty, except for the ’53 Vet and an older man with tufts of white hair sticking out from under his cap, huffing and grunting as he lifted a red-leather seat from behind the wheel.
“Might I assist you?” Tanner stepped lively to steady the man who tripped sideways, then backward, balancing the seat in his arms.
He glanced at Tanner and righted himself. “Thanks, son. But I got a method to my madness.”
Tanner smiled. “I gather you do.”
“You looking for Reg?” he said, settling the seat against the wall.
“Indeed, I am. How did you know?”
“Spotted you hanging around Friday night.” The chap faced him, panting for a bit of wind, hands on his hips. “You keen on Reg?”
“Keen? No, I’m—”
“Get in line. I think every man from here to kingdom come has a crush on her. Including me.” He moved to the passenger side of the car. “In the purest sense, mind you. But she’s holding to herself. Not like some dames running off after every guy who winks at her.” He leaned toward Tanner with an outstretched hand. “Name’s Wally. And you are . . . ?”
“Tanner Burkhardt.” He slapped his hand into Wally’s.
“Reg is in the office with Al.” Wally pulled a wrench from his hip pocket. “Making plans to move. Seems we got us a new shop.”
A new shop? Hmm . . . she’d not mentioned this Friday night. Tanner made his way to the office and peered inside, knocking lightly on the metal door frame.
Regina glanced up, recognition in her eyes. Perhaps even a bit of a welcome. “Tanner, hey. Come on in.” Dressed in coveralls with her hair wrapped into a loose ponytail, she still managed to spark his heart. “You remember Al?”
“Indeed I do.” Tanner shook the man’s hand, then turned to Regina. “Miss Bes . . . Regina . . . might I have a word?”
“Um, yeah. Sure.” She exchanged a look with Al, then motioned for Tanner to lead the way outside. “We’re all pretty excited around here. Mark—you remember him—is giving us a warehouse. Rent free. It’s three times the size of this place.”
She hopped up on the picnic table and Tanner perched next to her. “This is a good thing for your business.”
“It’s an amazing thing for our business.”
He nodded, a twist of dread between his ribs. Her change of circumstances didn’t change his mission. It just made it more difficult.
“I’ve a bit o
f news as well.” He leaned forward, rubbing his hands together as if the action might form the perfect words out of thin air. “Since we talked, circumstances have changed for Hessenberg. And me.”
“Wh–what do you mean?” Was that concern in her tone? “How so? Good or bad?”
“Depends on how you choose to look at things. The situation has become more urgent.” Tanner bullet-pointed the facts as King Nathaniel relayed them. Of the petition filed by Seamus with the EU court on behalf of the Hessen people. “The king and prime minister fear unrest and violence among the people. They ask for you to return with me now, take the Oath of the Throne, and establish the royal house. The sooner you are in your rightful place, the less likely we are in for political chaos and anarchy. If you are in Hessenberg, the court might reject even reviewing the petition.”
“And you want me to walk into this mess?” She stared off, away from him, her composure tight and guarded. “I can’t fix this . . . no . . . no way. Did I tell you I hate politics?”
“You mentioned it.”
She gazed at him. “I’m the last person you want leading the charge in Hessenberg, Tanner. I know nothing about your rule of law, your people, or even how to govern.”
“You won’t be alone,” he said, thinking it best not to mention that Seamus, Hessenberg’s governor, was behind this quasi coup. “You’ll have advisors.”
“Like who? People I do not know? How can I trust them?”
He smiled. “Exactly. ’Tis why I think you will do quite well as our sovereign. You will try and test everything and everyone. From what little I’ve seen, you don’t seem keen on merely pleasing people.”
“But isn’t it best if Hessenberg becomes a sovereign state without a monarchy? They can be a republic like America, right?”
“Aha, the question of the ages. The source of political, university think-tank, pundits’ debates.”
“Forget think-tanks. What do you think, Tanner?” She faced him. “Not what you’re being told—I get you have a job to do—but if you could wave a magic wand and poof, create the ideal country, what would you do?”
