Finding His Way Home

by Mia Ross

  But not now, because for the first time her heart and head were in complete agreement about a man. Knowing that should have scared her half to death, but she was astonished to find she felt quite the opposite. And it was wonderful.

  Sighing in contentment, she said, “It’s such a beautiful evening. I wish we didn’t have to go inside.”

  “We don’t,” he replied, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. “I finagled us a table on the patio.”

  Stunned by the surprise, she stared up at him in disbelief. “Those tables are always booked way in advance. How did you manage that?”

  “The owner’s a friend of my parents’.” Stepping back, he took her hand and started walking toward the flagstone patio bordered by gorgeous magnolia trees draped in tiny white lights. “I don’t have many connections around here these days, but the ones I do have are golden.”

  He slid her a mischievous grin that made her laugh.

  “So I’m on your short list?”

  “You could say that, I guess.”

  The grin had vanished, replaced by something far less appealing. His quick shift from teasing to serious reminded her that while he might come across as cockier than most, there was still a bruised spirit hiding behind all that Barrett bravado. Sensing he needed a boost, she hugged his arm as they followed the meandering path up from the pond. “That’s really sweet, Scott. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  This time, his smile came across much softer, as if he’d invented it just for her. That was ridiculous, of course, but she couldn’t deny that it reinforced her decision to forego the art circuit this summer. She had no idea where things with Scott and her might be going, but instinct told her she’d have a blast finding out.

  Before they got to the edge of the patio, a middle-aged man in a dark suit approached them, arms open while he smiled. He looked like a generous old uncle delighted to have them for company, rather than someone with a restaurant full of paying customers to look after. “Scott, how are you?”

  “Fine, Lyle,” he replied as they shook hands. Nudging Jenna forward with his other arm, he added, “Lyle Carrington, this is Jenna Reed.”

  “A pleasure to meet you, my dear. How are you both doing this lovely evening?”

  “Just fine,” Scott answered smoothly. “And you?”

  “Everyone in the family’s happy and healthy, so I can’t complain.” Turning to Jenna, he took her hand in an old-fashioned gentleman’s manner that brought to mind those classic black-and-white movies she still enjoyed. Fortunately for her, he stopped short of kissing it. “Welcome to the Spring House.”

  “Thanks so much for fitting us in. I’ve been wanting to eat here for months.”

  Crooking a finger, he motioned her closer and whispered, “Don’t tell anyone, but we always keep a couple of tables stashed away for good friends. When we’re full, we just pull them out of storage and set them up where we have space. That way, we never have to turn away our favorite people.”

  The fond smile he gave Scott was totally genuine, and if they hadn’t been in the midst of a crowd, Jenna would have hugged the kind man on the spot. Since that would certainly embarrass Scott to no end, she settled for something a little safer. “It’s always nice when someone makes you feel special.”

  “Special,” Lyle scoffed, waving away the thought. Grasping Scott’s shoulder, he explained, “This one’s my godson. A handful, Lord knows, but well worth the effort. If you’ll follow me, I’ll get you seated and bring you some menus.”

  While they walked behind him, Jenna murmured, “Your godfather owns the Spring House?”

  “Yup.”

  “How could you neglect to mention that when I was gushing about this place at The Whistlestop?”

  A slow, mischievous grin moved across his face, and she laughed. “You called Lyle that day, didn’t you?”

  “Pretty much.”

  She couldn’t decide if Scott was sneaky or clever, but since she was finally getting to experience the grand estate for herself, she decided she didn’t care all that much. Lyle made a show of seating her and then informed Scott he was perfectly capable of pulling out his own chair. Beaming at a couple seated nearby, he stopped to chat with them on his way inside. And the next couple and the next, so it took him nearly five minutes to leave the patio.

  “Hope you’re not in a hurry to get home tonight,” Scott joked as he dismantled the elegant napkin fashioned to look like a swan. “At this rate, it could take a while to get our menus.”

  “I don’t mind a bit. It gives me more time to admire everything.”

  While she took in their surroundings, she noticed a huge white tent down near the edge of the pond. Lights had been strung on poles, leading out from a side door of the main restaurant. Music filtered out through the canvas doors that had been tied back with humongous pink bows. While she watched, a bride and groom paused on the flagstone stairs that led to the tent from the top of a slight rise.

  Her white gown swirled around her like a cloud, and she held a bouquet of pink roses mixed with other flowers, cascading from her hands down the front of her dress. With the groom dressed in black tails, they looked as if they’d just stepped off the top of a wedding cake. They shared a quick kiss, and as they joined their guests, laughter trailed behind them in a joyous wake that would have melted the iciest heart on earth.

  “You okay?”

  Scott’s question dragged her attention back to their table, and she nodded. “Why?”

  “You just sighed. Is that the kind of reception you want someday?” he asked, motioning toward the tent with his water goblet.

  “Oh, I don’t know. I never really thought about it.”

  She knew he was on the cynical side, but the look he was giving her now was one of the most skeptical she’d ever seen. “Aw, come on. Every girl starts thinking about her wedding day at some point. Like eight years old.”

  “Not me.”

  Setting down his glass, he leaned in to speak more quietly. “You’re telling me you never dressed Barbie all in white, plopped a tissue on her head and dragged poor, unsuspecting Ken to the altar?”

  “Never.” Not that she hadn’t wanted to, she amended silently. It was just that her mother’s wretched track record with men had soured Jenna on happily-ever-after a long time ago. That seemed a little melodramatic, so she settled for something less dire. “Mom wasn’t the marrying kind, and I guess I inherited that from her.”

  “For better or worse?”

  She appreciated his attempt to lighten the difficult subject for her, and she grinned. “Right.”

  Leaning back in his chair, Scott studied her for several long, uncomfortable moments. Just when she was about to change tracks, a young woman floated over to hand them menus and recite a list of specials. When she was finished, she didn’t have to wait long for them to order.

  Glancing over at Jenna, Scott raised an eyebrow. “Lobster?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Facing the waitress, he held up two fingers in a V, and she nodded. “Excellent choice, sir.”

  After confirming they were happy drinking water, she floated back the way she’d come. Jenna had watched Scott closely, gauging how much attention he paid to the attractive server. She’d learned a lot about former boyfriends that way, and she was pleased that he seemed completely indifferent to the young woman. Jenna recognized that her strategy was immature, but in the past it had proven very effective.

  “I’m not checking her out,” Scott assured her with one of those aggravating grins of his. “Even if I wasn’t here with you, I wouldn’t be interested. She’s not my type.”

  She recognized that he was baiting her, but she couldn’t see any harm in biting. “Really? And what is your type?”

  In answer, he took the salt and pepper off
their silver tray and spun it so the polished back of it reflected her face back at her. It was a clever way to answer her question, and she fanned her face in Southern belle fashion. Hauling out her best honeyed accent, she drawled, “How you do flatter me, sir. I may faint.”

  “Not to worry, darlin’,” he drawled back, a wicked glint lighting his eyes. “If you fall, I’ll catch you.”

  They both broke up laughing and clinked their water goblets over the hurricane lamp in the center of the table. “You know, I keep meaning to ask you something. When I was in L.A. last year, I met a Tess Barrett at one of the art festivals. She reminds me a lot of you and your brothers. Any chance you’re related somehow?”

  “My cousin,” he replied with a nod. “We’ve never met, though.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m not sure. All Dad ever said about it was Uncle George moved away years ago and never came back.”

  Jenna was well acquainted with family problems, so she deftly steered the conversation back to lighter topics. From that point on, the evening was a fun mixture of teasing and shoptalk, punctuated by the best lobster she’d ever eaten outside of Maine.

  Despite all that, she couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that something had shifted between them. Mulling it over while they split a piece of decadent twelve-layer Swiss chocolate cake, she realized it had started when he’d promised to catch her if she fell.

  He’d been kidding, of course, but the look he’d given her when he’d said it had told her that on some level, he meant it. For all his sarcasm, she’d learned Scott was a very serious guy who stood by what he said. This man had made a promise to watch out for her, and she didn’t doubt for a second that he’d keep it.

  Not long ago, the mere whisper of that kind of commitment would have made her run, determined to avoid the foolish mistakes her mother had made over and over. But tonight, for the first time in her life, Jenna was more than content to stay right where she was.

  * * *

  Scott stepped back from the section of weathered clapboards he’d just finished painting, trying to decide if he liked the result or not. It was a big, labor-intensive job, which was why he’d been putting it off for so long. But Jenna’s comment the other day about the cottage in the woods resembling her dream house had nudged him into gear, and he’d been comparing swatches of various hues of yellow. The problem was tiny samples weren’t enough to give him a true picture of how the place would look when the whole thing was that color.

  So here he was, slathering on various shades with names like Daffodil and Antique Saffron. Right now, the leading contender was Southern Sunrise, but he was reserving judgment until he saw how it appeared later in the day. Normally, he was the kind of guy who figured yellow was yellow, and he was pondering why the paint mattered so much to him when a dark green pickup turned into his driveway.

  Recognizing Jason, Scott capped the paint can and strolled over to meet him. “’Morning. Shouldn’t you be over at the mill slaving over that redwood patio set?”

  “On my way,” his younger brother assured him through the open driver’s window. “Just thought I’d stop and see how things are going out here.”

  Jason wasn’t the type to come by without a reason, and Scott narrowed his eyes. “They’re going. What do you want?”

  “To take advantage of your expertise and good nature.”

  He looked totally serious, but Scott knew him well enough to get the joke about his temperament. Laughing, he said, “Right. Must mean your wife sent you out here.”

  “The other day, Amy saw the buffet you made for Chelsea. She went on and on about how gorgeous it is, and she’s hoping you have time to make an oak headboard for our new bedroom.”

  “Stores sell those things, y’know.”

  “We’ve looked everywhere.” The last word came out on a groan. Fishing a folded piece of paper from the pocket of his denim shirt, he handed it to Scott. “This is what she’s got in mind. I’ll pay for the timber, but if you can put it together, I’ll owe you one.”

  While he considered the detailed sketch, Scott decided the intricate design was far from his own style, but he could manage it well enough. Sliding it into the back pocket of his jeans, he said, “I should be able to handle that. When does she want it?”

  “You know women. ASAP.”

  Laughing, Scott shook his head. “You got it. And you won’t owe me anything, little brother. It’ll be my wedding present to you and Amy.”

  “Awesome! Thanks.” Glancing over at the house, he commented, “I never thought this old place could look so good. It’s like it’s been out here all this time just waiting for someone to give it some love.”

  Funny, that was exactly what Scott had been thinking earlier that morning. He’d never admit that to anyone else, though, so he shrugged. “Glad you like it.”

  Jason’s hazel eyes came back to him with an eagerness no one could possibly miss. “Does this mean you took Paul up on his offer to work at the mill?”

  “For now, anyway. At least until Chelsea gets the Artisan Line up and running with someone else.”

  Some of Jason’s enthusiasm faded, but he nodded in understanding. “Keeping your options open.”

  “Right.”

  “Well, however long you stay, it’ll be nice to have a younger guy at the mill to balance out the older ones. I like ’em and everything, but they still treat me like I’m ten.”

  “That’s what happens when you work with people who remember you in diapers,” Scott told him with a grin.

  “Tell me about it. Thanks again for taking on Amy’s project.”

  “No problem. See ya.”

  Holding up a hand in response, Jason backed into the turnaround and pulled onto the road that led to the mill. Watching him go, Scott was struck by just how close he now lived to where he worked. If he wanted to, he could take a quick hike through the woods and be at his job in a few minutes. Or...

  Angling his head, he looked over at the newly refurbished chapel. He sensed a brainstorm coming on, and he trotted up the steps, driven by the kind of excitement he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

  Standing in the middle of the empty space, his head filled with the mellow scent of white oak, it wasn’t hard to envision himself working in here. The blank areas between the tall windows could hold workbenches, and he pictured racks for wood storage running along the back wall on either side of the door.

  As his eyes drifted upward to the patched roof, he heard Jenna’s voice in his memory.

  If you trimmed back those trees and installed some skylights, this would be an amazing workspace.

  Suddenly, he agreed with her wholeheartedly despite the sweat he’d have to invest into making it happen. Because really, he had all the time in the world. The question was, did he want to spend so much of it creating a workshop?

  If he did, he could supplement his income at the mill with a sideline of his own. Of course, that would mean putting down roots in the hometown he’d been so desperate to escape nearly ten years ago. Having seen more than his share of the world, he wasn’t too proud to admit Barrett’s Mill was looking pretty good to him these days. While he rolled the idea around in his mind, it started growing on him, but he firmly put on the brakes out of respect for Granddad.

  How would he have felt about Scott cutting holes in the chapel roof and taking over what had been a sacred space to create a new business? The tug of new opportunity fought with his sense of duty to the generous man who’d basically left him a fresh start, and Scott was torn. He thought about visiting the cemetery in an effort to sort things out but changed his mind.

  Will Barrett might be buried under the stone that bore his name, but his spirit—everything that made him who he’d been—was here. Lingering around his boyhood home, watching over Scott to make sure things were going well for him.r />
  That sensation of having a guardian angel came over Scott again, and he sprawled out on the floor. He surveyed the blank canvas around him with a brand-new perspective, then stared up at the ceiling. “All right, Granddad, I’m listening. What do you think I should do?”

  Scott felt a little foolish, lying there waiting for some kind of answer, but he trusted his resourceful grandfather to find a way to respond.

  “Sorry. Am I interrupting something?”

  The sound of Jenna’s voice was all the sign he needed, and he sent a grin heavenward.

  “Got it,” he murmured, winking at he stood to greet his unexpected—but very welcome—visitor. “Not a bit. What’s up?”

  “Your stained-glass window’s almost done, and I want to make sure the measurements will match up. I’d hate to find out the frame is off by a quarter inch or something like that.”

  “If it is, I’ll just cut a bigger hole.” He really didn’t understand the problem, but then picked up on the subtle twinkle in her blue eyes. Moving closer, he slipped his arms lightly around her. “Unless there’s another reason you came by.”

  Flashing him a siren’s smile, she tilted her cute little nose in the air. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  A pretty blush crept over her face, and she started fiddling with the buttons on his shirt. “So what were you thinking about in here? It looked pretty serious.”

  You, he nearly blurted, but caught himself just in time. This woman really messed with his head, not to mention his suddenly talkative heart. But he wasn’t quite ready to go there with her, so he kept his reply more businesslike. “Just wondering if Granddad would mind if I made this place into a workshop.”