Blue Ridge Reunion

by Mia Ross

  Chapter Eight

  For the first time since graduating, Chelsea was in the Barrett’s Mill High School gym, unpacking a box filled with mobiles strung with gold and silver stars. Since their senior-prom theme had been “Reach for the Stars,” the committee had decided to carry it through to the reunion. Which meant the shiny decorations were perfect.

  In theory, anyway. The reality was that the fishing line had a knack for knotting itself up, and every set she pulled free of the bubble wrap needed to be untangled. If she hadn’t known better, she’d have thought her father arranged this exercise in frustration as punishment for defying his order to attend today’s Shenandoah Bank board meeting.

  She quickly banished the childish notion and got a folding chair from the rolling rack nearby. Sitting down, she picked up the first of twenty-four mobiles and got started.

  “What a mess!” Brenda exclaimed from behind her. Crouching down, she rummaged through the packaging and groaned. “Oh, honey, this’ll take you forever. Do you want some help?”

  Out of long-standing habit, Chelsea almost refused the offer. Then again, even if their fearless chairman was the worst knot straightener in history, at least she was entertaining company. “Sure. Thanks.”

  Brenda fetched another chair and plunked herself down opposite Chelsea. While she fiddled with a mobile, she said, “I heard your dad stopped by the mill.” Casting a glance up through her razor-cut bangs, she added, “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Why?”

  Angling her head for a better look at the rat’s nest in her hands, she studiously avoided Chelsea’s gaze. “Well, I heard a few folks talking about it at Bible study last night. They saw him racing through town like he couldn’t leave fast enough. They were wondering if maybe you two had a dustup or something.”

  “Were they?” Not long ago, she’d have considered their interest an intrusion into her very personal business. But now she understood that many of them were sincerely concerned about how she’d taken his impromptu visit. “It’s sweet of them to worry, but I’m fine.”

  Brenda dropped her hands and pinned Chelsea with a you-don’t-fool-me look her kids probably dreaded. “If you don’t want to talk about it, fine. But don’t sit there and lie to me, Chelsea Lynn. I can tell you’re upset, even if you don’t want to admit it.”

  The mild scolding caught her off guard, and she started spilling her guts. Quietly, of course. She didn’t need the entire decorating committee spreading around the fact that after a lifetime of blind obedience, she’d finally found the backbone to stand up to her domineering father.

  When she stopped for air, Brenda’s eyes widened in admiration. “Wow, that’s really something. Where did you find the guts to go up against him like that?”

  Paul.

  Unbidden, his name flashed into her mind, and Chelsea batted it away like an annoying gnat. But it came back again, flitting around just out of her reach. Since she’d returned to the faith she’d neglected for so long, that kind of thing had been happening more and more, forcing her to confront emotions she’d once have dismissed as utter foolishness.

  Now that she thought about it, her confidence had been growing at more or less the same rate as her friendship with Paul. He listened to her, for one thing, taking her ideas seriously. Not that he was oblivious to her looks or anything. While he didn’t lay it on too thick, he often found clever ways to compliment her appearance. Her smile, the way her eyes sparked when she was mad at him. Which was frequently.

  Since she wasn’t ready to confess her feelings to anyone just yet, she settled for a nice, safe response. “I’m not sure.”

  “However you managed it, good for you. I’m an only child, just like you, and my parents didn’t give up that you’re-my-baby thing until I’d had one of my own. Now they dote on the kids and I can actually be myself.”

  “If that’s what it takes,” Chelsea replied wryly, “I guess I’m sunk.”

  That got her a coy look. “Don’t be too sure about that.”

  “What on earth are you talking about?”

  “Paul Barrett, of course. You work with him all day long. You must see how crazy he is about you.”

  Laughing, Chelsea shook her head. “More like driving me crazy.”

  “Whatever you say,” she responded in a soothing tone she almost certainly used to end arguments with her husband. Her phone began singing “Girls Just Want to Have Fun,” and she checked the caller ID. “It’s Steve. Excuse me a minute.”

  “Take your time.” Chelsea hung one of the rescued mobiles from the edge of a nearby table. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Brenda laughed and headed into the hallway to have her conversation in relative privacy. It was still weird for Chelsea to think of her former classmates as wives and mothers. Most of her acquaintances in Roanoke were career-driven women with barely enough time to date, much less begin families. Here there were plenty of women her age who were settled. And happy. Not pining for something beyond their grasp, or clawing their way to the top of a mountain that seemed to get taller with each passing year.

  On paper, she had everything she could possibly need, but watching the former pep-squad captain with her raucous, loving clan had confirmed her suspicion that there was more to life. She wanted what Brenda had, but she had no clue how to get it.

  “Hey, there.” Glancing over, she saw Paul walking toward her, a ladder balanced on his shoulder. More like strutting, actually, and she couldn’t miss the feminine cooing drifting over from the table-setting crew. Apparently, he didn’t notice the ruckus as he set down his load and assessed her situation with a quiet whistle. “What a disaster. Did they come like that?”

  “Yes.” Reaching down, she snatched another one from the box. “We ordered them that way.”

  His arrogant captain-of-the-team entrance had irked her, and she didn’t bother trying to hide it. Apparently, he wasn’t good at reading body language, or he’d have backpedaled the way most people did when she whipped out the sarcasm. That, or he didn’t care. Instead, he laughed and helped himself to Brenda’s chair. Even when she arched an eyebrow and leveled a cool stare at him, he just grinned. Finally, when she’d run out of ammunition, she gave in to a smile.

  “There it is,” he congratulated her, ticking the tip of her nose with his finger. “I knew it was in there somewhere.”

  That he’d kept at it until she relented made her want to do more than smile, but she cautioned herself about getting carried away with this guy. She wouldn’t be in Barrett’s Mill a day longer than necessary, and starting anything more serious than what they had now would only end in hurt feelings. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

  “You have mobiles.” He indicated the decorations dangling from the table “I have a really tall ladder.”

  “We need hooks.” In reply, he held up the hardware bag he was carrying. Unlike most men, he always seemed to be one step ahead of her, but there was no way she’d tell him that. His ego barely fit in the door as it was. “Don’t think I’m impressed or anything.”

  “Never.”

  Flashing her another grin, he looped a few of the mobiles over one hand, picked up his ladder with the other and headed for the other end of the gym. Along the way, he greeted everyone by name, stopping so often to chat that it took him nearly five minutes to cross the floor.

  Not that she was keeping track, of course. Her task wasn’t the most challenging, and his glad-handing was a welcome distraction. She wished she had his way with people, she thought wistfully. He had a God-given talent for making others feel at ease, something she’d experienced herself many times.

  It had been Paul who’d made the first tentative steps in their friendship, encouraging her to meet him in the middle. Their forced partnership might easily have been sheer torture, something she endured because it was her job. Instead, she’d found herself enjoying this assignment more than any in her career. Paul had a lot to do with that. His easygoing personality and tolerant style
were a good balance for her more intense approach to—well, everything.

  Somehow, along the way they’d left their rivalry behind and become friends. They’d learned to have faith in each other, to trust that they were coming from different angles but would eventually wind up in the same place. She couldn’t have imagined it that first stressful day, but sitting there watching him, hearing his voice echo through the wide-open space, she felt her mouth lift into a little smile.

  In spite of her best attempts to remain detached and professional, Paul had come to mean a lot to her. She was really going to miss him when she left.

  * * *

  On his way to pick up Chelsea, Paul took a detour and stopped at the florist. Since this was technically a high school dance, he figured it’d be nice if he brought Chelsea some kind of corsage to wear.

  When he explained what he needed, the twentysomething clerk immediately asked, “What color is her dress?”

  Paul opened his mouth to answer, then realized he had no clue what outfit she’d chosen for tonight. With a helpless male gesture, he replied, “I’m not sure, so let’s keep it simple.”

  “This is really pretty.” Pulling out a cluster of tiny white and yellow roses, she added a dimpled smile. “Your girlfriend will like it.”

  “Could you tuck some of those miniature daisies in there? I’ll pay extra.”

  “Okay.”

  He could tell from her reaction that people didn’t normally add wildflowers to a classy wrist bouquet. He nearly told her to forget about it, then stopped. Chelsea liked daisies, and appropriate or not, he knew she’d appreciate the personal touch.

  The clerk put his purchase in a clear box and tied it up with a pink ribbon before swiping his credit card. On his way out the door, she called, “Have fun!”

  He waved a thank-you and finished his trip to Chelsea’s place. After parking in the Donaldsons’ driveway, he noticed them sitting on the front porch and went up to say hello.

  “Don’t you look handsome?” Lila cooed, looking him over from head to toes. “All those girls’ll be fighting over who gets to dance with you tonight.”

  “Just like old times.” He chuckled. Daisy was sacked out in Hank’s lap, and he reached down to rub her forehead. Meeting Hank’s gaze, he added, “Speaking of which, the new saw you installed works like a charm. How’d you guys manage to integrate it with that old rigging?”

  “A trick here and there. Nothing a youngster would understand.”

  Translation: if I tell you, you won’t need me anymore. Recognizing the purpose behind that cryptic response, Paul replied, “Then I guess we’re gonna have to keep you guys around awhile. Maybe work out some kinda pay scale. How would that suit you?”

  “We’ll talk,” Hank grumbled, but the interested gleam in his eyes told Paul he’d hit the right button with the old foreman.

  “Anytime. Right now, though, Chelsea and I are taking a trip down memory lane.”

  As he headed back down the steps, he heard Hank chortling while his wife whispered for him to behave himself. He’d been getting that kind of reaction from people a lot lately, Paul mused while he strolled down the path to the old carriage house. It seemed that whenever he mentioned Chelsea, folks assumed it meant something.

  Then again, he did say her name quite a bit these days. When they were working together it was inevitable, but he suddenly realized they spent a lot of their free time together, too. Going over the week’s progress over lunch at The Whistlestop on Saturdays, sitting with his family at church on Sundays. He even bumped into her at the grocery store on occasion. Of course, in a tiny place like Barrett’s Mill, it was tough to avoid anyone, even if you wanted to.

  And he definitely wasn’t trying to avoid Chelsea. In fact, he enjoyed spending time with her. If he was completely honest, he’d have to admit—at least to himself—that he’d actually been trying to see more of his beautiful business partner, not less.

  Looking down at the corsage box in his hands, he groaned at his own foolishness. A smart, elegant lady like her wasn’t interested in starting up anything with a guy like him. With a hound, a 1930s truck and a mountain of debt to his name, he had less than nothing to offer her. Even if she might personally like him, his aimless lifestyle had turned off every woman he’d ever known. There was no reason for her to be any different.

  Resigned to the notion that this evening was just about two friends going to a dance with some other friends, Paul knocked on the paned window in the door and waited for her to answer. It was a studio apartment, so he could see everything from where he stood. When she appeared from around the corner, he casually waved like someone who hadn’t just been standing on her front stoop, arguing with himself.

  She was wearing an emerald-green dress that rippled like water when she moved. By the time she opened the door, those errant feelings he’d shoved away returned with a vengeance. The temptation to wrap her in his arms and kiss her was so strong he rooted his feet in place to keep from acting on it.

  Her confused look was a perfect complement to the two mismatched earrings she had on. “Were we supposed to meet here?”

  “Nah,” he said, hoping he sounded cool. “Just thought you might like a ride up to the school.”

  “I would, thanks. Come on in.”

  She stepped aside to let him in, but he carefully stayed near the door, far away from the scent of gardenias that seemed to follow her everywhere. She always looked polished and put-together, but tonight there was an extra sparkle to her. It was enough to make his brain struggle for something to say. Then out popped “Did you know you’ve got two different earrings on?”

  He bit back a groan at the stupid comment, but thankfully she laughed. “I can’t decide which style looks better with this dress.”

  Personally, Paul thought the outfit needed absolutely nothing but the woman inside it, but he seized on the opportunity to cover his blunder. Angling his head for a closer look, he pointed to the left one. “All those dangly crystals will catch the light better.”

  “Dangly crystals it is.” She plucked out the other one and replaced it with the chandelier type that matched the one he’d chosen.

  Remembering the flowers, he thrust the box toward her. “This is for you.”

  She took out the corsage and inhaled. “They smell wonderful, and I love the daisies.”

  “They’re your favorite,” he said, as if she didn’t know that.

  “That was very sweet of you,” she added, beaming up at him with the most incredible smile he’d ever seen in his life.

  He’d resolved to keep his distance, but he felt himself moving toward her. Drawn in by those dazzling green eyes, the affection lighting her face. Helpless to resist the pull of her, he settled his hands lightly at her waist, giving her room to pull away. She didn’t.

  Grinning down at her, he said, “I can be sweet.”

  “Really?” she challenged him, her cute nose tilted in the air. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  The urge to lean in and kiss her was almost overwhelming, but he was hesitant to spoil the moment. Instead, he chuckled. “I let you pick the music for our dance tonight, didn’t I? Didn’t even ask what it was. I think that should count for something.”

  “I suppose so,” she agreed with a coy smile. “I mean, for all you know, it’s a Viennese waltz.”

  He didn’t doubt for a second that she knew the steps to all the waltzes, Viennese or otherwise. That she was teasing him this way sent a warm current through every nerve, and he was thrilled that they’d finally gotten past all the roadblocks to meet at this point. She trusted him, he realized with a jolt. Trusted him to hold her this way and not take advantage, to understand her wry humor and respond in kind.

  He’d always believed God created a match for everyone, and that if he kept looking, someday he’d find the woman meant for him. Could Chelsea be the one? he wondered. It was quite possibly the nuttiest idea he’d ever had, and the longer it caromed around in his head, the crazier it seemed.<
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  Then again, he’d always gone the safe route, sticking with someone until it became obvious to him that it was time to move on. That time had come and gone in his relationship with Chelsea, and he was still here. It must mean something, but he wasn’t ready to think about it just now.

  “Ready to go?” When she nodded, he opened the door for her and followed her out to his truck. When they were settled inside, he asked, “Are you gonna tell me which song you picked for our dance?”

  That got him a lofty smirk. “Why don’t you guess?”

  “Was it a song from our senior prom?”

  “I wouldn’t know.”

  Astonished by the revelation, he twisted in his seat to stare at her. “You didn’t go?”

  “Nobody asked me.”

  “You could’ve gone on your own,” he reasoned as he pulled onto the street. “I did.”

  She laughed. “So you could dance with all the girls you wanted, no doubt. Is that your plan for tonight, too?”

  A couple of weeks ago, it would’ve been. But something had changed, and while he didn’t completely understand it, he decided to follow his instincts and see where they took him. “Nope. I’m all yours.”

  She lifted one skeptical eyebrow. “Am I supposed to get all gooey now?”

  Gooey wasn’t really her style, but he decided to play along just for fun. “Only if you want to.”

  “I think I’ll pass. Thanks anyway.”

  With that, she turned to look out the open window. Dressed for an upscale evening and framed by the colors of a summer sunset, she just about took his breath away. The tires sank into the loose gravel beyond the pavement, and Paul firmly steered his attention back to the road before he ran them into a tree or something.