Instead of doing the things she should be doing, Laney sat there with her head on the table, thinking about Ben’s hands.
He had strong hands. Not rough, but the skin on his fingertips was thick and he had calluses across the pads. And his forearms...
She sighed, a sigh so deep it seemed to come from her toes, and then thumped her head on the table again. Never in her life had she been attracted to a man’s forearms. But she’d played hell concentrating on the arm stretched out to her when she kept glancing at his left arm. He’d rested it casually on the table and the first time she’d tried to grab the paint chip with the tweezers, the fingers of that hand had curled into a fist. The action made the muscles in his forearm tense and Laney’s mouth had gone dry.
It was a miracle, really, that she hadn’t stabbed him with the tweezers. Either he hadn’t noticed her reaction or the subsequent shift of her body to move his left arm out of her sight line, or he’d been too polite to mention it.
Hopefully the paramedic wouldn’t be spending too much time at the Northern Star, she thought as she raised her head and stood. After taking alcohol to the tweezers again, she put the first aid box back in the pantry and threw away the garbage. She’d come here specifically to learn to be alone—to bring back that confident, self-sufficient inner woman she’d spent ten years shushing in order to make her husband happy—not to find another man.
She didn’t have any trouble finding Rosie’s list. It was on the side table next to a beat-up old rocking chair that had a basket of knitting on the floor beside it. Laney was willing to bet that when guests were hanging out in the living room to watch the television or socialize, they knew without being told that chair wasn’t for them.
The list was long and doubt rose up in Laney’s chest like acid reflux. She hadn’t worked since she was twenty-five years old and was informed by her mother-in-law that women in the Ballard family didn’t work. They tended to their husband, homes and children—in that order, based on Patrick’s mother’s attitude—without distraction. The fact children had never come once seemed like a curse, but now was a blessing.
If she failed at this, she wasn’t sure what she would do. Not that she couldn’t find another job. But this one was about more than a paycheck. She wanted to be here. And she might not have any employment history since quitting her job at the jewelry store where Patrick bought his watches, but she had skills.
And one of those skills was keeping an immaculate house. A very large house, as a matter of fact. And maybe she’d never had to clean rooms for paying guests, but making a bed was making a bed.
Feeling more centered, Laney read down the list item by item. Needless to say, she’d have to spend a couple of days shadowing Rosie to learn how she liked things done and where everything was kept, but she was a fast learner. Her duties in the campground included cleaning and stocking the bathhouse and cleaning the two cabins after checkout, but mostly she would report things to Josh or Andy.
“I didn’t scare you away, did I?”
She hadn’t heard Rosie come in and she started, though she managed not to yelp. Turning, she smiled and shook her head. “Of course not. This is a beautiful place and I’ll do my best to help keep it that way.”
“It is beautiful, isn’t it? It always has been, though it got a little shabby a while back because money was tight. The boys worked really hard at not only fixing up the house, but connecting the property—and the entire town, really—to the ATV trails. Nobody expected that to take off the way it did, but now we’re busy year-round instead of just snowmobile season. They expanded the camping area and added the two cabins and the pool last year, and we not only have reservations through Columbus Day weekend this year, but several bookings for Memorial Day weekend next year.”
“I’m looking forward to being a part of it. Oh, and before I forget, I used the first aid box, but I cleaned the tweezers before I put it back. I hope you don’t mind.”
“That’s what it’s there for. Did you have a sliver?”
“No. Ben cut his hand helping Josh and there was a paint chip in it. I got a little bossy with him about taking care of it and then found out he’s a paramedic.” Her cheeks heated again, even though it wasn’t that big of a deal.
“It wouldn’t matter if he was a brain surgeon, honey. Men are the worst when they’re hurt or sick and the only way to deal with them is to get a little bossy.” Rosie’s face softened as she smiled. “My only child might be a girl, but I raised four Kowalski boys along with their sister. Trust me on that one.”
“You worked for their mom?” Laney prompted, trying to remember the little bits her cousin had told her.
“I did. She let me bring my Katie with me, so it was perfect. Then she died suddenly back in eighty-seven. An aneurysm. I stayed on and did the best I could to help Frank take care of them. He passed away in 2002. The kids were all scattered around, so it was Josh and I for years, doing the best we could. A few years ago, he broke his leg and I called Mitch—the oldest—home to help out and when he saw how run-down things had gotten, they all came together. Mitch and Liz are both back in Whitford. Ryan’s in Brookline, Mass, and Sean lives in New Hampshire. You’ll get to meet them all.”
Laney’s head was spinning, so all she did was smile and nod. There was a lot of family history here on top of the town being a very small, tightly knit community. Her plan was to smile and nod a lot and keep her mouth shut.
“Let me give you that tour,” Rosie said. “And don’t worry about remembering everything right off. We keep things pretty simple and I’m not going anywhere.”
The rooms for guests were all in one wing, which had been added to the original house years before, though they were free to make themselves at home on the ground floor of the lodge. The exception was a room off the living room, at the opposite end from the guest wing. A very polite keep out sign hung on the closed door, and Rosie told her that was Josh and Katie’s room.
Upstairs was Andy and Rosie’s room, an office, and a couple of bedrooms used by visiting family. Downstairs, in the basement, were shelves of supplies and the commercial washer and dryer. As far as the kitchen, that was Rosie’s domain. She liked to bake for the guests, but there was no expectation Laney would cook, since meals weren’t part of the package.
“I know it seems like a lot, between the lodge and the campground,” Rosie said when they were back in the kitchen. “But we’re not just throwing you in the deep end. We’re all here, so you’re not alone.”
There was something warm and maternal about the woman that made Laney feel as if she could be honest with her. “I wouldn’t have come here if I wasn’t willing to do the work, but somehow I feel like the hardest part of my job is going to be making you let me do it.”
“It might be. I’ve been taking care of this place for a very long time.” Rosie smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “But I had a couple of bouts with pneumonia several years ago and now I have Andy, so I might be ready to slow down a little.”
Before Laney could reply, the kitchen door opened and a woman around her age with a blond ponytail pulled through a battered Red Sox cap walked in. She was visibly expecting and besides the fact she resembled Rosie, she knew Katie—Rosie’s daughter and Josh’s wife—was six months pregnant. And she wasn’t around all the time because she owned the barbershop in town, which had been her dad’s before he died.
After introductions were made, Katie grabbed a cookie from the jar on the counter. “I’m glad you’re here, Laney. I assume you were warned my mom can be stubborn?”
She laughed. “Andy warned me she might try to get me to sit and eat cookies and drink lemonade while she does the work, but I can be pretty stubborn, too.”
Katie had her mother’s smile, and Laney was once again struck by how lucky she had been to find herself in this place. She liked these people, and they seemed to like her.
That was already more than she’d had going for her the last few years.
By the end of the season, she was going to be happier, stronger and ready to go make a new life for herself.
Chapter Three
The next morning, Ben woke feeling groggy and not well rested. He wasn’t sure why—and he couldn’t remember anything he’d dreamed about—because if there was one thing he’d mastered over the course of his life as a first responder, it was sleeping well when it was time to sleep.
After throwing back the sheet, he sat on the edge of the bed and scrubbed his hands over his face. Then he swore a blue streak and looked at the cut on his hand. After cleaning it again, he’d decided to leave it uncovered because what kind of damage could he really do to it in bed?
Apparently, the rubbing it over a bristly jaw kind of damage.
A glance at his clock told him he could make it to Sunday breakfast if he hurried. Despite the rough night, he made quick work of his morning routine and threw on some sweats and a T-shirt. His mother’s breakfasts were worth the effort.
At five minutes before nine, he jogged down the stairs that led to where his SUV was parked in the driveway. Then he crossed behind his dad’s work van and his mom’s smaller SUV to get to their back door.
When his parents had expanded the garage, making it a little deeper and adding a second bay, they’d also turned the space over it into a studio apartment for Ben’s younger brother. Jimmy had done his time at a trade school and then returned to Whitford to work for their dad’s plumbing business, turning Rivers Plumbing from a one-man to a two-man show. Because nobody was ever going to get rich being a plumber in Whitford, Jimmy had been happy to live over their parents’ garage. His wife, Chelsea, had been happy to live there, too, until she’d gotten pregnant and they’d rented a house of their own. For three years it had been occupied by a friend of his dad’s until he decided to move south to warmer pastures.
As luck would have it, the apartment was empty when Ben got the call offering him the job. It was close to the fire station, the rent was cheap and he already knew he liked the landlords, so he didn’t bother looking for anything else. At some point he probably would, since living with his parents wasn’t one of his long-term goals, whether he had his own entrance or not.
But right now, with the scent of coffee and bacon greeting him as he stepped into his mom’s kitchen, it didn’t seem like a high priority.
“Morning, son,” his dad said, smiling at him from the stove.
“Morning.” His mom was buttering toast, and he kissed her cheek. “What can I do?”
“Refill our coffees and pour one for yourself, please.”
Ben dumped the cold remains from their mugs and rinsed them before grabbing the carafe. His dad at the stove meant scrambled eggs made with more than the average amount of black pepper and American cheese melted on top. And thick, toasted slabs of his mom’s homemade wheat bread and crispy bacon to go with it.
Definitely worth rushing.
“I was going to call you,” his mom said, “to see if you were coming down, but I’m always afraid I’ll wake you up when you’ve just gone to sleep because of a call.”
“I’d have to be some kind of exhausted to turn down Sunday breakfast. And I told you before, if I’m really beat, I can set my phone to allow the dispatcher and the fire and police stations to call me, but silence everything else. You can call or text me anytime and if I really need the sleep, I’ll get back to you when I wake up.”
“Maybe someday I’ll listen,” she said.
“Don’t hold your breath,” his dad said, following the words with a wink at his wife.
She laughed and waved a hand at the table. “Funny. You two sit down and get out of the way so I can dish this up while it’s hot.”
Thirty-nine years, Ben thought as he obeyed, sitting in the same spot he’d been sitting in since they moved into this house the year he turned twelve. If he was thirty-eight, they’d been married thirty-nine years now and it would be forty years in September, since their anniversary was the same day as their birthdays.
Alan and May Rivers had first met when their respective friends had thrown them parties at the same roller rink. Sharing the same birthday had been an icebreaker and they both claimed it had been love at first sight. He proposed on their next birthday and they were married the birthday after that. The rest of the family had expressed some teasing disappointment their first child hadn’t been born on August 20th, but Ben was more than happy to let his parents keep that spotlight on themselves.
They’d both be turning sixty later this summer, which made Ben wonder if they should have some kind of a party. Sixtieth birthdays. Fortieth wedding anniversary. It seemed like a celebration of some sort was in order. Not a big bash like they’d—God willing—be having in another ten years, but forty years together was an achievement worth a cake, at least.
As he dug into his breakfast, he wondered if he’d missed his chance for a fortieth anniversary cake. Since he wasn’t even dating at the moment, he’d be at least forty before he got to the altar, which meant he was looking at being eighty for that milestone. Doable, maybe, based on his family tree, but he was going to have to start making space in his life for a relationship.
“Got anything planned for today?” his dad asked when they’d finished eating.
The question sounded deceptively casual to Ben’s ears and he suspected he was going to get wrangled into helping his dad with some random project from his mom’s “honey-do” list. And, while he didn’t mind working alongside his dad, he wasn’t committing to anything without some idea of what she was getting them into.
“I’ve got a few things to square away at the station today, but that’s about the only thing.” It wasn’t really a lie, but the amount of things he had to square away and the amount of time it would take would depend on the alternative. “How about you?”
“Thinking about stripping the asphalt shingles off the old shed out back and replacing it with metal roofing. Had some leaks over the winter and it’ll be a good practice run since we’ve only got another few years in this house roof.”
“I can give you a hand today and stop by the station later in the afternoon.” That kind of manual labor, Ben didn’t mind. But the first weekend he’d been back, he’d gotten suckered into snaking a clogged drain for his mom’s widowed friend because Jimmy was busy and he’d spent hours fighting his gag reflex. There was a reason Jimmy became a plumber and Ben was a paramedic. Blood he could handle. The black slimy stuff that lived in clogged drains, not so much.
“You have a cut on your hand,” his mom pointed out. “Make sure you put a padded bandage on it and wear good leather gloves over it.”
Under the sweet maternal concern was an edge of command that made him think of Laney and smile. She’d been cute as hell bossing him around yesterday, and he felt bad she’d been embarrassed to find out he was a paramedic. He hadn’t really been hiding it, but he probably should have mentioned it when she accused him of waiting for her to turn her back so he could spit on his open wound.
“What’s making you smile like that?” his dad asked before giving him an arched eyebrow look over the rim of his coffee mug, as if he thought Ben might be smirking at his mother’s concern for him.
“I was just thinking about the woman I met yesterday. She helped me clean the cut, that’s all.”
“Really?” His mother didn’t even bother to hide her piqued interest and he wondered just what kind of smile he’d had on his face—the amused kind or the sappy, slightly goofy kind. “Where did you meet her?”
“At the Northern Star. I guess they hired her to help out around the place and she’ll be living in a camper on the property...or something.” He added the last part just to make it sound like he didn’t know too much about her.
“Oh, her name’s Laney
, right?” his mom asked, and then continued without pausing to give him time to answer. “We haven’t met her yet, but it’s been all over town that Josh hired somebody to take some of the workload off of Rosie. She’s been taking care of that lodge—and the family—for so long, I’m not sure how she’s going to take having somebody else doing any of the work.”
“I’m sure Rosie will get used to not having to make beds or scrub toilets pretty quickly,” his dad said, and Ben nodded his agreement.
“Well, maybe,” his mom said. “Women tend to like things a certain way, you know.”
“We know,” they said together, earning them each a withering glance from her before she gave in and laughed.
“How old is she?” his mom asked, dashing his hope she’d move on to a new subject. “She must be single if she can live in a camper for the summer, right? What does she look like?”
With both of his parents looking at him expectantly, Ben almost didn’t dare open his mouth. What did she look like? She had blue eyes that really stood out when her cheeks were pink with embarrassment. Her hair was long and he wanted to run his hands through it and see if it was as soft as it looked. She was pretty and she was funny and, though he wasn’t absolutely sure, he had to agree with his mom that Laney was most likely single.
“She’s pretty, I guess. About my age. I have no idea if she’s single or not. I didn’t talk to her very long.”
He stood and carried his plate to the counter while his mom made a vaguely disappointed sound. Maybe he’d run into Laney again and get to know her better, or maybe he wouldn’t. But he knew from growing up in Whitford that he did not want his mother or any other woman in town involved in it.
But as she shooed them out of the kitchen so they could get to work on the shed roof—and let her watch shows she streamed on her tablet while she took longer than necessary to clean the kitchen—Ben admitted to himself he wouldn’t mind running into Laney again.
What It Takes: A Kowalski Reunion Novel Page 3
