“Your mother must love gardening,” Rick said, stopping to look around.
“This is Dad’s thing,” Leanne said, glancing back over her shoulder at Rick. “He spends almost as much time here as he does in the orchard.”
Rick had seen a lot of professionally landscaped yards of friends of his grandfather but none created this welcoming atmosphere.
The door opened and Sam Ellison stepped out onto the deck. “Hey, Sharelle,” he said with a booming voice, giving the girl a one-armed hug. “Good to see you. You and Leanne can help Mother with lunch.”
Sam beckoned Rick with his large hand. “Come in. Cora has coffee on.”
“I was just admiring your yard. It’s amazing.” Rick took another look around the yard. “Did you do all this yourself?”
“I built on what Cora’s parents started. They planted the trees and I added the rest. Do you want a tour?”
“Don’t go with him. You’ll never get coffee,” Leanne warned. “Maybe not even lunch. He’ll talk your ear off.”
“Don’t you and Sharelle have work to do?” Sam asked, giving them a gentle push toward the door.
Leanne gave Rick a quick smile, whispered something to Sharelle. They disappeared into the house.
Sam rolled his eyes as the door slapped shut behind them. “Teenage girls,” he said in a tone that summed up all the confusion and exuberance of that age and sex.
The crunch of tires on the gravel made Rick glance behind him. Three cars pulled up, stopped and people spilled out of them all, laughing and noisy. One of them was Becky.
He wasn’t sure he was ready to face the Ellison family en masse, nor to see Becky in a more casual setting. He kept remembering her solo at church. And her sincerity. “I’d love to look around some more,” Rick said.
“Would give the noise level a chance to settle down,” Sam said, following Rick’s gaze. “I’ll show you the lilies first. They’re around front.”
As Sam led the way, Rick chanced one more quick glance back over his shoulder. Becky was watching him, her forehead seamed in a frown.
“Did you check the messages, Becky?” Cora asked, giving the pot of soup on the stove another stir. “Trevor called again. Said he’d been trying to get hold of you but hasn’t been able to connect.”
“I know.” Becky started slicing open the homemade buns her mother had laid out on the counter.
“You going to call him back?”
Becky shook her head. “I’ll connect some other time.”
Cora tasted her soup and grinned at her daughter. “He sounded lonely. I always liked Trevor.”
Which was part of the problem for Becky. Her parents thought he was a decent fellow. Someone Becky should seriously consider. Implicit in the advice was the ‘after all you’re not getting any younger’ tone.
Didn’t help that her brothers and sisters seemed to be all nicely paired up. Poor Becky. All by herself.
“He’s a decent guy,” Becky admitted. “But my not my type. His feet are too itchy.”
“Not all men are like your father and brother-in-law—more than willing to stay in one place all their lives. You might have to rearrange your standards.”
“I like Holmes Crossing. And I like living in a small town where I know everyone. Where I can be involved.”
“A bit too involved,” Cora muttered.
Becky chose to ignore that comment. “Where’s the butter?”
Cora handed Becky the foil-wrapped block. “Did you hear that Yvonne and Randy are engaged?”
“Yes. Her mother told me at the library board meeting a few weeks ago.” Becky peeled the foil back and started spreading.
“And I saw Deb and Gordon in church together.”
“They’ve been dating for a while now. Deb said they were going to move to Calgary as soon as she’s done with school.” Becky wished her mother would stop this litany of the dating game. It only underscored her own single state and made her feel like a loser. Which she knew she wasn’t. She had made her own choices. That most of the eligible young men from Holmes Crossing chose to move away was their problem, not hers.
“Deb said she had a cousin who was coming up to stay for a bit. He’s single.”
“And you’re being very obvious, Mother.” Becky didn’t even look up from her work. “You know I’ve got other things on my mind.”
“Like your writing? You haven’t spent that much time on it lately.”
“Been busy.”
“Like I said.”
“I can’t just turn the creativity on and off, Mom. And lately it feels like it’s been off.”
“Why lately?”
Becky dug into the butter, scooping way too much. Lately, she thought, because Rick Ethier suddenly showed up in my life. The man who hated my book and let everyone who subscribes to his grandfather’s magazine know why. That’s why “lately.”
“Just not inspired.”
Cora folded her elbows on the counter and leaned close to her daughter. “You should ask Rick to help you with it. He’s a good writer.”
Right.
“Rick is busy turning the magazine around. I doubt he has time for much else.” Or interest. Becky dropped another buttered bun into the large metal bowl beside her.
“He seems like a nice man.”
“Code for ‘Why aren’t you interested in him?’”
“That’s not what I meant.” Her mother faked an innocent smile and Becky decided to humor her.
“News flash, Mother. He’s only here until he can get the magazine going in a direction that will make enough money so that he can get out of town as fast as his Jeep’s wheels will turn. He’s temporary. So he’s not my type and I’m not his.”
“Well, for now you can go rescue your boss from your father. Tell them lunch is ready,” Cora said.
Becky glanced out the large picture window beside her at the two men wandering across the yard. Sam was tall but Rick’s blond head topped him by an inch. Now and again Rick would nod and laugh, his smile flashing like a beacon. “I’m busy,” Becky said.
“I can do it,” Leanne said, popping her head into the kitchen.
“Go for it, Leanne,” Becky said. She was only too glad to relinquish the job to her sister. Leanne was obviously far more interested in Rick than she was.
“Becky will go,” Cora said, giving Becky her “don’t argue with me look” honed and perfected over years of raising six children. Becky knew better than to challenge it.
Rick and Sam were crouched down by a young maple tree. The low murmur of her father’s voice was steady, and Becky could hear Sam eagerly inducting Rick into the intricacies of the flora on the yard.
“It’s like a highway,” Sam was saying, his hand waving up and down along the trunk of the tree. “The ants go up the tree to the new growth here.” He pushed himself to his feet and pulled down a branch. “This is where the aphids are. They milk the aphids and then go scurrying down the trunk to the ant colony with the milk past the others that are going up. An amazing small part of how God works everything together. Fascinating, really.”
Becky had always thought so and used to spend hours as a child patiently watching the ants’ progress on other maple trees. She couldn’t imagine that Rick was even remotely interested.
But he was politely looking closer at the branch, angling his head to the side as if to see better, his hair falling aslant. He looked relaxed and was smiling. And for a split second she felt a tug of attraction. Then he looked up at her and the smile disappeared.
And that bothered her more than she liked to admit.
Sam caught the direction of Rick’s gaze. “Come to fetch us, Becks?”
“Orders from the high command. ‘Go ye therefore into the yard and rescue Rick,’ or something like that.” Becky curled her arm through her father’s.
Sam shrugged, his smile taking in Rick and Becky. “Cora is deathly afraid that someday I’m going to bore some very polite visitor to death and then we’d have s
ome explaining to do when the coroner shows up.”
“I could think of worse places to breathe my last,” Rick said easily. “You’ve created a small paradise here.” He looked relaxed with his tie hanging out of the pocket of his suit coat. The top button of his shirt was unbuttoned and he looked more at ease than he had this morning in church.
“I was taught that God reveals himself to us through the Bible and creation,” Sam continued as they started toward the house. “I like to think of my gardening and orchard work as part of my worship to Him.”
Rick’s face tightened and for a moment Becky thought he was going to argue with her father. He caught Becky’s gaze, then looked away. She wondered what he was going to say and almost wished he had voiced his opinion. She knew so little about him.
And had found out even less, snooping through his stark, empty Day-Timer.
The blush that warmed her neck had nothing to do with the warmth of the sun and everything to do with her guilt at the thought of looking through his private papers. Thankfully she had discovered nothing personal or she would have felt even more self-conscious.
“You’re mighty quiet, Becky,” Sam said. “That’s not like my girl at all.”
Becky wrinkled her nose at him. “Maybe I’m trying to give my new boss a good impression, Dad.”
“Too late for that. Isn’t it, Rick?” Sam asked, pulling Becky close to his side as they walked up the wooden steps. “My Becky is so transparent, I’m sure you know everything about her already.”
“I hope not,” Rick said, holding open the screen door of the house.
Becky caught his eyes as she walked past him and wondered what he meant by his comment. Then decided she didn’t want to know.
“Okay, everyone, Dad is here. Let’s start,” Cora announced, clapping her hands to get her family’s attention.
Everyone gathered in the kitchen, forming a loose circle. Becky bit back a smile at Leanne’s obvious maneuvering to get beside Rick.
“Let’s pray,” Sam said, glancing around the circle. This was the signal for everyone to take the hand of the person beside them. Rick looked a little baffled.
“We usually hold hands while we pray,” Becky said. “But if you’re uncomfortable with that, we can forget it.”
“No. That’s fine. Don’t change anything on my account.” Rick took Leanne’s hand, flashed her his most charming smile and lowered his head.
The brief spurt of jealousy Becky felt was as sudden as it was surprising.
Her father started praying, his deep voice thanking God for the day. For the church service. For the food they were about to eat. He prayed for each family member, for the community and for the government of the country.
“And as we come to You, Lord, we want to especially pray for those who have hurt us. Those whom we see as our enemies. Help us, Lord, to see them as You see them. To love as You love. In Your name, amen.”
Becky kept her head lowered a moment, trying to take her father’s words into her heart. Rick wasn’t her enemy per se. Her opponent maybe. Someone she’d had a hard time thinking charitably about even before he was her boss.
Please, Lord, help me to care about him as a person. Help me to want only good for him and to forgive him, she added silently.
She raised her head, catching Rick’s eyes on hers. As she gave him a tentative smile, she was surprised to see one in return. It was a start.
Of what, she didn’t know.
Chapter 5
“So my challenge to businessmen in Holmes Crossing clinging tenaciously to archaic ways of doing business is find a way to tap into a broader market…”
Becky dropped the page and her elbows onto her desk and clutched her hair, pulling it loose from her ponytail.
Tenacious. Archaic. Could Gavin Stoddard have found more inflammatory language to convey his point? The magazine was going to be flooded with angry letters all addressed to “The Editor.” Editor being Becky Ellison, innocent bystander.
She carefully shuffled the papers in order to tamp down her own emotions.
Her anger surfaced so quickly these days, the result of working too many long hours switching the magazine’s focus midstream. When she had agreed to help with the youth program, she hadn’t counted on her well-ordered work life getting swirled and rearranged by Rick’s whirlwind plans.
Work was taking up more and more of her time as she ran interference for an owner bound and determined to turn this magazine around on a dime, disgruntled staff notwithstanding.
Cliff was complaining about budget restraints. Trixie about the diminishing bank balance. Becky would have loved to complain to someone, but her only recourse was Rick.
The reason for the general air of discontent around the office.
Becky flipped Gavin’s first column back and carefully read over the second one, just to reassure herself that she wasn’t overreacting.
“…we need to get with the program. Stop thinking that if we are here, people will come…”
Nope. Just as bad.
She walked down the hallway to Rick’s office, took a deep breath and knocked lightly. Without waiting for an answer she slipped inside.
Rick was on the phone, pacing back and forth, talking quietly. But Becky heard the now-familiar edge on his voice. The way he was tugging on the hair at the back of his neck wasn’t a good sign, either.
Looked like she was facing an uphill battle even before she started.
Rick nodded curtly. “I’ll keep it in mind, Grandfather.” He stood in front of the window, one hand on his hip, his knuckles white on the handset.
“No. I’ll stick this through to the end on my own. I don’t want any money coming in that the magazine hasn’t earned.”
Speak for yourself, Becky thought, remembering Cliff and Trixie (who are they?). The magazine needed a serious injection of cash.
“You don’t need to come down and check on me. I’ll do this on my own, okay?” Rick sighed and lowered the phone. Becky heard the light beep as he disconnected without saying goodbye.
He stared at the handset for a moment, his eyes narrowed, then, with deliberate motions, he hung it up in the cradle. When he looked up at Becky, she almost recoiled at the banked anger in his eyes.
“What can I do for you?”
Becky’s heart did a slow flop, then began racing.
“I thought you heard my knock…” She gestured futilely back at the door. “I’m sorry I interrupted… I’m too used to coming and going like when Nelson…” She bit her lip on her next words.
“I’m not Nelson, am I?”
“No, you’re not, and I’m sorry.” She gave him a tentative smile that bordered on insincere. But she hoped that the outward action would bear inward fruit and soften her heart toward him.
Her mind flicked back to Sunday as she noted his hostile body language. For a few hours at her parents’ place she had seen him relaxed and, she thought, enjoying himself with her family. She’d even heard him laugh out loud when Dennis told his infamous Jean Chrétien joke. He’d teased Leanne, putting her completely under his spell. Her father also thought he was very charming and when Rick left, Sam had asked Becky why she had such a hard time with him.
They would know if they saw him now. Today he looked like the other Rick’s evil twin.
She picked the papers up off the desk. “I’ll come another time. When you’re ready to talk instead of interrogate.”
Rick’s eyebrows snapped together. “What do you mean?”
“I’d like to discuss something with you. Not fight it out. It can wait.” It couldn’t, really. Gavin’s column was set to run in the following issue. But she wasn’t going to antagonize Rick when he was already so obviously upset.
“No. Sit down. If you’ve got a problem, I want to deal with it right away.”
Becky bit her lip as she laid Gavin’s column down again. She didn’t sit, preferring to face Rick on her feet. Not that it gave her much of a tactical advantage. He was at least fi
ve inches taller than her.
“I’m concerned with the language Gavin uses in this column.”
Rick tunneled his hands through his hair, clutching the back of his neck as his eyes bored into hers. “I thought you would be.”
“And that didn’t count?”
“Becky, this guy knows his stuff. He’s laying out a challenge to the local businesses. We need to give them tangible information they can use.”
“But not this man and not this way.” Becky spun the paper around and started reading randomly. “‘…burying your head in the sand…outmoded or nonexistent business plans…’” She looked up at Rick. “This is not the language of community. It doesn’t build up, it breaks down.”
Rick dropped his hip on the edge of the desk, crossing his arms. “Let me guess. You’ve been reading books on building self-esteem.”
“What I’ve been doing is living in a community that deserves to be treated with respect. And this—” she poked her finger at the article “—doesn’t do that.”
“In order for this magazine to succeed we need to look beyond this community. To other small towns in Alberta that are struggling with the same issues. Maybe they do need to take a hard look at themselves.” Rick swung his leg, his movements punctuating his comments.
Becky felt her hold on the discussion slowly slipping as she recognized the reality of what Rick was saying. Yet, she knew that she was also right.
A Place in Her Heart Page 6
