“I don’t want to be a waitress for the rest of my life, Mrs. Johnson. Although I’m a good waitress and I love serving people. But the B&B will allow me to do that while earning a better wage than waitressing, and it will allow me to spend more time with Alycia and give her a better life.”
“Well, good for you,” Ruth said with a firm nod. “I think it’s a fine idea. And if I can be of help in some way, I hope you’ll ask. I love to help the people of Thunder Creek whenever I can.” She offered a smile. “And I hope I can be as good a friend to you as Esther Peterman has been all these years.”
Chapter 5
Later that morning, with a trunk full of cleaning supplies provided by Ruth, Brooklyn drove to the Hallston home in a car also provided by Ruth. Now, standing in the middle of the living room, assessing its condition, sadness washed over her once again. She wasn’t sad for herself. She wasn’t afraid of the work it would take to put it right again. Her sadness was for Chad’s mother. Marie Hallston had created a home that was warm and welcoming. Even Brooklyn had felt at home within these walls. But years of neglect had erased that feeling.
Someone—Derek and some of his friends, she assumed—had removed the boards from all of the windows, letting sunlight through the dirt-streaked glass. It touched the many dust motes floating in the air and highlighted the cobwebs hanging from the ceilings. How long would it take before she and Alycia could move in? Longer than she wanted, no doubt. Not that she didn’t feel welcome in Ruth’s home. But she needed to be here. She needed every day to count. Tomorrow she would bring Alycia with her to make the initial cleanup go a little faster.
“One thing at a time,” she reminded herself. “Take it one thing at a time, and it will get done.”
She set the plastic caddy of supplies on the floor, then went to the wall switch, saying a quick prayer. With a flick, the lights came on. “Yes!”
She was thankful for the power, of course, but the glow of the lightbulbs revealed even more of the work ahead of her. She remembered the walls in the living room as pale yellow—Marie Hallston’s favorite color—but they looked tan now. The sofa, chairs, end tables, and coffee table had been draped with sheets, which were covered in a layer of dust. The hardwood floor was as dusty as the protective sheets over the furniture.
Brooklyn drew a deep breath and moved into the formal dining room. The large table and chairs surrounding it were also covered with sheets. But the elegant buffet had been ignored, along with the knickknacks on it. She wondered why these items hadn’t been protected as she lifted a Bo Peep figurine and blew on it. Dust flew up in a cloud, making her sneeze.
In the kitchen, she found evidence of mice and was thankful none were scurrying around in the daylight. The refrigerator door had been braced open with a block of wood. No lights were on. No running sounds. She removed the block and closed the door. Still silent. Leaning to the side, she saw the cord was disconnected from the wall. A little maneuvering and she soon had the appliance plugged in. It began to softly whir. She smiled at the sound. It was a small miracle that it worked after so many idle years.
With her plans for the B&B in mind, she finished the tour of the lower level—the family room with its fireplace, the cozy den, the large master bedroom, plus one full bath and another half bath—then climbed the stairs for a quick look at the rest of the bedrooms and baths. Beds and dressers were draped with more dusty sheets, but at least mice hadn’t made obvious nests in any of the mattresses. Another small miracle, no doubt.
As she retraced her steps to the kitchen, she wondered why Chad hadn’t returned to Thunder Creek after leaving her. He hadn’t had the same reasons to run away from this town. His parents had loved him. He’d had friends aplenty. He could have come back and been welcomed with open arms. And even if not then, why not sell the house after his parents died? Why had he allowed it to sit like this, going to ruin? It made no sense to her. Worse yet, she would never get those answers. It was too late.
She closed her eyes, feeling a different kind of sadness wash over her. Chad Hallston had broken her heart when he’d abandoned her in Reno all those years ago. Time had healed the pain he’d left behind. Now all she felt when she thought of him was sorrow. For many reasons. But most of all she was sorry he’d never known his amazing little girl. By his own choice.
She shook her head, driving away the unwelcome memories. The past couldn’t be changed, no matter how much she might wish it. Better to focus on today.
“Hey!” came Derek’s voice from the living room. “Anybody in here?”
Startled at the unexpected sound in the silent house, her pulse skipped a beat or two. “I’m here.” She left the kitchen and hurried to the front of the house.
Derek wasn’t in his deputy’s uniform today. Instead, he wore jeans and a black T-shirt with sleeves that hugged the well-developed muscles of his upper arms. It was a good look on him.
“The place looks even worse with the boards off the windows,” he said as his gaze swept the room.
Understatement, she thought. “Thanks for taking them off. I needed the extra light.”
He nodded. “Some of my buddies pitched in. Didn’t take us long.” He took several strides into the room, stopped, turned in a slow circle. “Man, are you sure you can make it livable anytime soon?” He seemed to look everywhere but at her.
She wasn’t sure why, but she felt insulted by his question. As if he’d judged her incapable. “I’m not afraid of hard work.”
“That’s a good thing.” He reached up and swiped at a cobweb hanging just out of his reach. “Maybe tearing down the place was a good idea,” he said softly.
Had she heard him right? “What did you say?”
Now he met her gaze. “Sorry. Nothing.” He glanced away again and took a couple of steps toward the dining room. “I talked to another friend of mine about your car. He says he’ll take a look at it, see if he can fix it for you.”
“Is he a mechanic?”
Derek smiled at that. “Not exactly. Maybe you remember him. Justin Mathers.”
“Justin? Yes, I remember him. Short. Glasses. Math and science whiz kid, wasn’t he?”
Derek smiled. “That’s him.”
“And he’s still around Thunder Creek? I pictured him as a university professor living in a big city. Or maybe working for the government in some high-level think tank.”
“Your first idea was close to right. He is a professor. Just not in a big city. He teaches at Boise State, but he still lives in Thunder Creek and commutes back and forth. He married a gal he met in college, and they have four kids.”
“Four? Already?” Nobody got older in memories, she realized. She still envisioned Justin Mathers as a socially awkward boy, even if he was a college professor.
“Yeah. And I wouldn’t be surprised if they decide to have more kids. Justin and Carol seem to thrive on the chaos of a big family.”
Brooklyn had once dreamed of having several children. She hadn’t liked being an only child. Maybe if she’d had sisters or brothers, her dad wouldn’t have focused all of his judgment, criticism, bitterness, and punishments on her. But that was another thought she needed to shove away.
She glanced over her shoulder toward the kitchen, then back at Derek. “I’d better get to work. I left Alycia with your grandmother, and I don’t want to impose on Ruth’s kindness for too long.”
“Trust me. You’re not imposing. Gran loves to help a neighbor whenever she can.” He motioned with his hand, taking in the room. “Give me a holler if you need help with heavy lifting. I live right next door.”
She felt her eyes widen. How had she missed that bit of information yesterday? Had he mentioned it when they were here? She was certain he hadn’t.
He must have seen her surprise. “I bought the old Kellogg property six years ago. I’m farming it. Well, more like what some folks call market gardening. I guess the place is too small to be considered a real farm. But the produce I grow is Certified Organic.” He said the
last words with pride. “I hope to expand the operation eventually.”
“I never would have guessed you wanted to be a farmer.”
“Caught me by surprise too. But once the idea took hold . . .” He shrugged.
She sensed he would have liked to add something, but when he didn’t, she repeated, “I’d better get back to cleaning.”
“Right.” A different tone had entered his voice. Aloofness? Reluctance? Something. “Like I said, I’m right next door if you need something.” He disappeared through the doorway without a backward glance.
She remained where she stood for a short while, pondering the brief conversation. Perhaps she wasn’t being fair to Derek. While he hadn’t seemed overly friendly, either yesterday or today, he had been more than a little helpful—taking them to his grandmother’s, removing the boards from the windows, talking to Justin about her car. At present she was grateful for any kindness, even if it did sound reluctant. At the very least, she was thankful he didn’t appear to outright dislike her, the way he had years ago.
She took a breath and squared her shoulders. “Okay, enough procrastinating. Time to hit it hard.” She pushed away thoughts of her neighbor and of the past. “I am going to make this place sparkle.”
As she grabbed the cleaning supplies, she couldn’t help but feel a budding optimism in her heart.
Derek leaned the hoe against a wheelbarrow before wiping his forehead with the back of an arm. It was hot for June. All spring it had been unusually warm. The growing season was two or three weeks ahead of normal.
After taking a few long gulps from his stainless-steel water bottle, he let his gaze sweep over his land. Except where the house and outbuildings stood, all of the three acres had been pasture when he bought the property. His second summer here, he’d put two acres under the plow for the raising of produce. One acre had remained pasture for his two horses and the beef calf he raised each year.
It was a small beginning, but Derek had big dreams.
Or used to have.
His gaze shifted to the neighboring land. To the Hallston place. No, Brooklyn’s place.
His plans to buy those additional ten acres had been in the works for a couple of years. If he’d been able to come up with the down payment at the start, it would have been a done deal. The property would have been his before Chad got his fatal diagnosis that then led him to change his mind about selling.
He sighed, knowing he needed to let go of his disappointment. Although, if he was honest with himself, it was more like resentment. Besides, there was always a chance Brooklyn would be willing to sell the land to him. He hadn’t asked how long she intended to stay. What would a widow with one child do with that big house and ten acres anyway? Maybe he should have brought it up yesterday, but something had made him want to wait for a better time. Maybe because she’d looked tired. Maybe because she’d been obviously worried about the expense of car repairs. Whatever the reason, he’d chosen not to make an offer to buy her out just yet.
Once again, he looked toward the neighboring property. Only this time his gaze settled on the house. He could see the nose of his grandmother’s car peeking around the corner. Which meant Brooklyn was still inside.
She shouldn’t have to do all that cleanup alone.
Another sigh escaped him.
“I helped her already,” he muttered to himself. “I towed the car. I got Justin to look at it. I took the boards off the windows. Isn’t that enough?”
No, his conscience told him. He needed to do more. He had a neighbor in need. A few moments of help here and there weren’t enough. Only how much more could he do? Between his work with the sheriff’s department and his farm, he didn’t have a lot of hours to share with the widow next door.
Just an excuse, that persistent voice of his conscience whispered. It sounded a great deal like Gran’s voice.
“Okay, fine. I’m going. I’m going.”
Brushing his hands across the thighs of his jeans, he headed once again across the fallow field separating the two properties. But when he rounded the corner of the house, he stopped, surprised to find two other cars—familiar cars, both of them—parked in the driveway. Female chatter and laughter carried to him through the open front door.
His feeling of surprise didn’t last long. To be honest, he should have expected that Gran and her friends would pitch in. But still he had to step onto the porch and look inside. He didn’t know when they’d arrived or how many were here, but what the women had accomplished in the four or five hours since he’d walked out this same front door amazed him. Sheets were gone from the furniture. Windows had been cleaned of years of dirt. Cobwebs had been swept from the ceilings. Floors had been dust mopped and rugs vacuumed. Even the walls seemed to be brighter.
“Hello!” he called out.
“Derek!” His grandmother appeared in the dining room archway a few seconds after he heard her voice. Her gray hair was covered with a kerchief tied in a knot near her forehead. She wore a loose-fitting cotton shirt and a pair of denim trousers, and she held a mop in her right hand. “You’ve come just in time.”
“I have?”
“We could use your help.”
“And about time!” Camila Diaz’s voice drew his eyes toward the hallway. A moment later, her head appeared in the den doorway. She grinned at him, then disappeared again.
Two or three more voices from upstairs called his name in unison, one of them—Millie Smith, his neighbor to the west—adding, “Isn’t it great to see this place come alive again?”
Lying through his teeth, he called back, “It sure is, Millie.”
“Derek.”
He looked toward his grandmother again.
She motioned him forward. “Come with me.”
“Right.”
Gran turned and moved out of sight. Derek hesitated a moment, then followed after her.
The transformation in the kitchen was even more remarkable than in the living and dining rooms. Almost the way it had looked when Chad’s parents were alive. Except, that is, for the stove that had been pulled out beyond the cupboards, presumably so Tracy Vinton—who stood next to the appliance, scrub brush in hand—could clean the wall behind it and floor beneath it.
“We’re having a whale of a time trying to get that back in its proper spot,” Gran said. “It’s a snug fit.”
With a nod, Derek moved to the stove, eyed either side of it to judge the opening between the countertops. Tracy backed away to give him room. He gripped the front edges of the white appliance and began to maneuver it back into place. A bit of grunting, mumbling, and shoving were required before he accomplished the job.
Gran applauded as he straightened and turned around. “Thank you, dear. That was a big help.”
“No problem. Anything else I can do?”
“No, I think we’ve done as much as we can manage for one day. Most of the gals need to get home to their families now.”
He gestured toward the other rooms. “You’ve done a lot.”
“We have, indeed.”
“How long have you been here?”
“A few hours. We couldn’t leave Brooklyn to do it all herself.”
“I thought you were helping by watching Alycia.”
“I decided Brooklyn needed more elbow grease. So I took Alycia to the library. Helen is keeping an eye on her there.”
The creak of the closing screen door drew Derek’s gaze in the direction of the back porch. Brooklyn entered the kitchen a moment later, a metal bucket in hand.
Gran said, “Look who showed up in time to get the stove back in place.”
Brooklyn looked from him to the stove and back again. “Thanks.” Weariness filled the single word and was etched on her pretty face as well.
He shrugged. After everything Brooklyn and the ladies of the town had accomplished, his contribution seemed paltry—and he didn’t care one bit for the twinge of guilt he felt because he hadn’t done more.
“Brooklyn, dear,” his g
randmother said. “It’s time you and I went back to town.”
“But I thought I would—”
“Come along.” Gran whipped the kerchief from her head. “We’ll return tomorrow and keep at it until everything is ready for you to move in.”
Brooklyn looked ready to protest a second time, then pressed her lips together as she nodded. Whether it was to honor Gran’s wishes or because she suddenly realized how tired she was, Derek couldn’t be sure. Whatever the reason, he felt a small spark of respect spring to life.
Chapter 6
The next day, as Derek dropped the last of the hay into a feed box, he heard an excited, girlish squeal not too far behind him.
“Horses! You’ve got horses!”
Before he even turned, he knew who he would see: Alycia Hallston, her eyes big and round, a smile as wide as the western sky bowing her lips.
“Can I pet them?” she asked, moving closer.
Derek hadn’t paid the girl much attention that first day, but he’d had time since then to think about her quite a bit. Her and her dad’s dying request. Because now that Alycia was in Thunder Creek and would be living next door, Derek needed to figure out what his part in her life was supposed to look like. Right now he didn’t have a clue.
“Can I?” she persisted.
He glanced over his shoulder. Blue Boy stood near the fence, muzzle buried in hay. “Sure. Come on over.”
Alycia arrived in an instant and poked her head between the rails of the fence.
“Whoa!” Derek put his hands on her shoulders and drew her back. “Wait a minute.” He turned her to face him. “Let’s set a few rules, shall we, kiddo?”
She scrunched up her nose, even while nodding.
“You don’t go anywhere near these horses or any other livestock without an adult present. Got it?”
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