Читать книгу Blue Ridge Reunion - Mia Ross - Страница 12

Chapter Three

When he looked up, Paul noticed tears shining in Chelsea’s eyes. Considering the fact that they’d been sparring with each other most of the morning, it seemed odd that she’d feel sorry for him. But the way he was feeling right now, he’d take any sympathy she cared to offer him.

“The doctors can’t do anything more for Granddad’s cancer,” he explained, “and he’s accepted that he’s not gonna beat it this time. The last thing he wants before he goes is to see the mill up and running again. Well, that and some Whistlestop barbecue,” he added with a wry grin.

“Is that why you’re staying with them instead of at your parents’ place over in Cambridge?”

“Yeah. Mom and my sisters-in-law take turns dropping by during the days, but we all feel better knowing someone’s around if Gram needs a hand at night.”

Swallowing some tea, she said, “I’d like to stop in and see them, if you don’t mind giving me a ride over there.”

Seeing as she was in such a hurry to get back, he was stunned that she was willing to delay her trip. Stunned and more than a little impressed. Maybe the ice princess had a heart after all, he thought with a grin. “Don’t mind a bit. They’ve been feeling a little cooped up lately, and I’m sure they’d love to see you. Then we’ll track down Fred and get your car back on the road.”

“Thanks.” Swirling her straw around, she asked, “Is it true all the banks around here turned you down?”

“Yup,” he replied, popping a saltine into his mouth. “They said it’s ’cause the only collateral I have is the mill, and it’s not enough to make up for me not knowing the first thing about running a business.”

“And if Shenandoah Bank turns you down? What then?”

“I don’t wanna think about it.” When a waitress arrived with their order, he added the take-out meals to their tab and turned the conversation to a more positive subject. “So, tell me what’s been going on with you. Senior year you were voted most likely to be the first woman president. Have you picked your running mate yet?”

She laughed, which had been his intent. It was a shame to see those incredible eyes filled with anything but joy. “Why? Are you interested in the job?”

“Not a chance.” Forking up some of the chicken from her platter, he plopped it onto his and did the opposite with his pork. “I’d be a terror in those meetings, knocking heads together all day long.”

“Interesting strategy. They might actually accomplish something that way.” Munching a gravy-smothered fry, she hummed in appreciation. “I forgot how much I love this kind of food.”

“We can get some for you to take back, if you want.”

“No, thanks. I’ll be making up for this on the treadmill for the next week as it is.”

“Your call.”

They chatted their way through lunch, and Paul couldn’t help admiring the classy woman seated opposite him. He’d never been interested in her before, but for some reason, now he was captivated. The problem was, she was too smart for her own good, and out of respect for his sanity, he made it a policy to avoid women like her. They were way too much work.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t be friendly. Not that he’d try to charm her into helping him out with the bank or anything, but it couldn’t hurt to be nice. The old flies-and-honey saying popped into his mind, and he grinned. He was pretty sure Chelsea would object to being compared to insects of any kind.

“What?” she demanded with a frown. “Have I got sauce on my chin or something?”

“No, I was just thinking about how funny it is we reconnected after all these years.”

“Funny ha-ha or funny ironic?”

“Both.” Holding up his glass, he said, “To old enemies getting a fresh start.”

“We weren’t enemies, really,” she corrected him with a little grin. “More like rivals who were going after the same things from different directions.”

“To old rivals, then. I pity anyone dumb enough to try to keep you from getting what you want.”

“That I can drink to,” she agreed, clinking glasses to seal the toast.

Paul heard another click and glanced over to find Molly standing in the middle of the dining room with a digital camera in her hand. “That’s a good one.”

“For what?” Chelsea asked, apparently as confused as Paul was.

“For my collection.” Pointing to a collage made up of old, fading photos, she explained, “I’ve been adding in new pictures of the people up there, like a history album of the town.”

Playing along, Paul faked a horrified gasp. “We’re not really in that, are we?”

“Of course you are.”

Plucking one from the wall, she handed the picture to him, and he angled it so Chelsea could see, too. Sure enough, there they were, perched on stools at the lunch counter, deep in a debate about something or other. You could tell because Paul was waving his hands and grinning while Chelsea glared at him with the kind of look that could freeze Sterling Creek in the dead of summer. Between them were two melting sundaes, forgotten in their quest to win the latest in a series of arguments that had lasted from junior high straight through to graduation.

“It’s one of my favorites.” Molly took the photo back and gave them each a warm smile. “Sometimes I wonder how things would’ve worked out if you two could quit beating on each other long enough to realize how much alike you are.”

They both laughed, and Paul echoed, “Alike? Ya gotta be kidding.”

“I’m deadly serious. You’re smart as anything and stubborn as a pair of mules. Imagine what you could accomplish if you put aside your pride and pull in the same direction for a change.”

With that, she turned and left them staring at each other. If he was reading her expression accurately, Paul was fairly confident that Chelsea was as horrified by that idea as he was. Then Molly’s words registered more clearly. “Did you notice how she said that?”

Eyes wide with shock, Chelsea nodded. “She didn’t say ‘accomplished,’ as if she was referring to what happened in the past. She made it sound like we should work together now and see how it goes.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he reassured her smoothly. “Everyone’s got an opinion about this mill project. Doesn’t mean she’s right.”

“Absolutely. Of course.”

While they both continued eating, Paul was careful not to let Chelsea catch him glancing over at her. Because, despite what he’d said just a few moments ago, he couldn’t dismiss the possibility that Molly was right. With his technical know-how and her business sense, he and Chelsea would make a great team. Having her on his side would definitely improve the chances of his wild idea succeeding.

Unfortunately, his male instincts warned him that any partnership with this by-the-books accountant would drive him completely over the edge. Then again, working with a woman instead of dating her would be a refreshing change for him. At least he wouldn’t end up getting tossed out of his own apartment into the rain.

* * *

“What a wonderful surprise!” Olivia Barrett exclaimed, folding Chelsea into a warm hug. It was the second one she’d gotten today, and this one felt just as good as the first. To be welcomed back after so many years away felt amazing.

“I was in town, so I wanted to stop by and see you two,” she explained with a hesitant peek into the dining room. All the antique furniture was pushed to one side, opening up space for a hospital bed. “Is this a good time?”

“It’s always a good time for company.” The shadows beneath her brown eyes spoke of many sleepless nights, but the determined glimmer said she was making the best of their difficult situation. “Folks come tiptoeing in here like Will’s already laid out for his funeral. It makes me crazy.”

“Well, we’re here to fix that,” her grandson informed her, holding up two take-out bags printed with The Whistlestop’s trolley logo.

“We could smell it when you were coming up the walk. I’ll get some plates.”

“In here,” he replied, wiggling the bags. “No dishes for you to wash, so you can just relax and enjoy your lunch.”

“My boy,” she cooed, grasping his chin for a fond shake. “Did I ever tell you you’re my favorite?”

When she turned to lead them into the dining room, Paul whispered to Chelsea, “She says that to all of us.”

Thanks to him, Chelsea was laughing when she saw Will Barrett. His pale face broke into a bright smile, and though he looked achingly frail, he greeted her in the strong baritone voice that used to ring out from the church choir every Sunday. “Marvelous to see you, Chelsea. Come in. Come in.”

His hand trembled as he motioned her to the armchair beside his bed, and she sank into it as unexpected emotions clogged her throat. Paul had warned her his grandfather was dying, but she hadn’t been prepared for the reality of what that meant. Though it was tucked behind a leafy ficus, she noticed an IV pole holding a bag of dripping medication. Looking from it to Will, the sympathy in his eyes caught her even more off guard.

“I know,” he said simply, patting her hand with his. “It’s not easy, but we’re making the best of things.”

“Why are you here instead of in a hospital?” she blurted without thinking first. When she realized what she’d done, she felt herself reddening in embarrassment.

Will chased off her discomfort with a faint laugh. “All that poking and prodding was making me downright ornery. And the food.” Condemning it with a sour face, he continued, “I’m happier here, and now Olivia can be comfortable at home instead of driving back and forth to a place full of sick people.”

“Gram came down with pneumonia a few weeks ago,” Paul explained, pulling some dining chairs over so they could all sit near Will. Winking at her, he added, “Personally, I think she was just looking for an excuse to stay in bed and do crossword puzzles all day.”

“Oh, you,” she protested, playfully smacking the back of his head.

A few weeks, Chelsea mused while Olivia dished up barbecue for Will and then herself. The time frame rang a bell, and she turned to Paul with newfound respect. “Is that why you came back from Oregon?”

“Mostly I missed Gram’s peach cobbler. It’s still the best I ever had.”

“I could never keep this one full,” she said with an adoring look at him. “The whole time he was growing up, the more I cooked, the more he ate.”

“Hey, I’m the middle kid. I had to keep getting bigger so they wouldn’t all pound me.”

“Are your brothers still around?” Chelsea asked.

His eyes darkened to near black, but he quickly masked his reaction with a grin. “Most of ’em. Connor and Greg live over in Cambridge with their families, and Jason’s busy loading up my secret weapon for the mill.”

“What about Scott?”

Dead silence. It felt as if something had sucked all the air out of the room, and Chelsea wished she could disappear from sight under the old floorboards.

“Scott’s still finding his way,” Olivia answered quietly. “Lemonade, dear?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Deciding not to risk any more blunders, Chelsea sipped her cool drink and listened to the Barretts discuss the goings-on around the town she’d left behind so long ago. While they talked, she gained a fresh appreciation for the commitment Paul had made, seemingly without a second thought.

His vision for the mill seemed long-term, which meant he wasn’t planning on going anywhere. He probably had a life out West, but he was forsaking that to be where he was needed most. Sitting here in this sunny room, being entertained by the local gossip, she was struck by a random thought that rattled her right down to her toes.

This was love.

This was what it meant to put someone else before yourself, to value their happiness and well-being as much as you did your own. While Chelsea had always admired and respected her father, as a teenager she’d accepted that his one-track mind was focused on making his bank as profitable as possible. These days they worked in the same building, but they seldom shared moments like this one. To her knowledge, Theo Barnes had never eaten takeout from paper plates and debated whether the new highway project was a good use of county funds or a complete waste of money.

While she was considering that, Paul’s phone rang, and he checked the screen. “Fred,” he told her, hitting the answer button. “Hey, there. Thanks for getting back to me. Chelsea Barnes is in town, and her fancy new car won’t start. It’s at the mill, and I’m hoping you can help us out so she can get back to Roanoke sometime today.” He glanced up at the antique schoolhouse clock on the wall. “Half hour’s fine. See ya then.”

Chelsea was perplexed by their short exchange. Granted, she wasn’t Miss Fix-It, but from what she’d heard, Paul hadn’t offered the mechanic the slightest bit of useful information. “You didn’t tell him a thing. How does he know what to bring?”

“I said ‘fancy’ and ‘new,’” Paul pointed out matter-of-factly. “He’ll know.”

“But—”

“Do you always hassle people who’re trying to help you?”

Folding his arms, he leaned back in his chair and cocked his head in a pose that made her think of Boyd when she’d met him that morning. The idea of Paul beginning to resemble his canine friend was more amusing than it should have been, and she couldn’t help smiling.

“That’s so much better,” he praised her with a wide grin. “You really oughta smile more often. It looks good on you.”

Maybe when her career started improving, she’d be able to follow his cavalier—and slightly chauvinistic—advice. But she was where she was, and until she clawed her way up to where she wanted to be, she’d be sticking to the serious route. Since she had no intention of sharing the reasons for her attitude with him or anyone else, she forced a polite smile. “Thank you.”

“Ouch,” he replied with a chuckle. “That’s a mind-your-own-business brush-off if ever I heard one. Anything you wanna tell me?”

Not in this lifetime, she wanted to shoot back. Of course, a Southern lady never spoke to anyone that way, so she settled for “No.”

He gave her a long, dubious look before standing. “Then we should head out to meet Fred. He’ll get you back on the road in no time.”

“So nice to see you, dear.” Olivia stood and embraced Chelsea again. “Be sure to come by for a visit next time you’re in town.”

“And bring more barbecue,” Will added eagerly.

That wasn’t likely to happen, but Chelsea forced a smile and managed to say her goodbyes without a hitch in her voice. As she and Paul walked through the kitchen, she hated to think of how disappointed his grandparents would be when the bank got a good look at the figures on Paul’s loan application and turned him down flat.

Outside, she took in the view of a neighborhood that hadn’t changed much since her childhood. Sturdy homes, old but well cared for, lined the street like sentinels from another time. Standing by the truck, she inhaled the scent of gardens overflowing with gardenias and roses, with the exotic aroma of jasmine mixed in for effect. “Mmm...that smells good.”

Paul sniffed quickly and shrugged. “I guess so. I’m here all the time, so I guess I don’t notice it anymore.”

“I don’t remember this part of town being so pretty. It’s really nice.”

Closing her door, he balanced his hands on the window frame and gave her a long, slow smile. “Yeah, it is.”

For a few moments, they gazed at each other through the open window, almost as if they’d never met before. In a way, she realized, that was true. The brash football captain and the shy bookworm they’d once been existed in the past, and the people who’d replaced them were all but strangers.

Could they become more than that? a tiny voice in her head wondered.

She pushed the thought firmly back into the depths of her brain, where it belonged. Getting to the top of her profession was her only goal right now, and she couldn’t afford any distractions, no matter how handsome they might be.

Paul’s pensive look gave way to the nonchalant one he’d been wearing most of the day. On their way out into the country, they drove beneath enormous trees that had withstood the devastating war that had left so much of Virginia stripped and in ruins. Both sides had done their share of damage, and men had returned to a barren wasteland begging for redemption.

With the need for lumber so high, Gideon Barrett and his two surviving brothers sank their meager fortunes into constructing a mill to turn the area’s plentiful trees into raw material for new houses, stores, even railroad ties.

In its way, the mill had saved the ravaged town from fading into oblivion. It seemed fitting, somehow, that the residents were fighting to save the landmark business that had given rise to the village they called home. Beyond that, she knew helping the Barretts was the right thing to do.

Tossing aside her pledge to remain cautiously neutral, she said, “Okay, I’m on board. It won’t be easy, but I’ll figure out a way to get you the money you need for your furniture business. You have my word on it.”

Sliding her an incredulous look, he asked, “Did I miss something? What happened to the numbers not adding up and all?”

“They still don’t, and I have a hunch they never will. It would be a unique operation, and there’s nothing in the area to compare it to.”

“Which means we can’t prove it’s a profitable idea.”

He’d all but admitted this wasn’t his area of expertise, but she had to give him credit—he caught on fast. “Exactly.”

“You’re the logical type,” he pressed, obviously still confused. “Formulas and algorithms, they’re your thing. What changed your mind?”

Sighing, she met his eyes in the rearview mirror. “I’m doing it for Will.”

“So’m I.” Paul’s grim expression brightened into the crooked grin she remembered from high school. “Looks like we’ve finally got something in common. If Molly finds out, she’ll never let us hear the end of it.”

After resisting his many charms all morning, Chelsea eased up on her well-honed discipline and gave him a genuine smile. “I won’t tell her if you don’t.”

“Deal.”