Читать книгу Mending The Widow's Heart - Mia Ross - Страница 12

Chapter Two

Holly was fairly certain that if Sam had left her to her own devices, she’d have driven right past the road that led to the long, winding driveway of her aunt’s new home. One unmarked side street led to another and another, which fed into an isolated dead end that held exactly three houses. She got the feeling that her guide was finding his way through the outskirts of Liberty Creek using an inherited sense of where things in his hometown had been standing since the founders had first hacked it out of the forest.

She’d never been much for school, but being a history buff, that class had always held a special appeal for her. She recalled that New Hampshire was one of the original thirteen colonies and had played a pivotal role in the Americans’ fight for independence. If those long-ago Calhoun brothers were any indication of the local residents’ spirit, she had no trouble believing that men like them—strong and stubborn—had played a key role in the patriots’ eventual victory.

Sam’s pickup finally signaled a turn onto a rutted lane that looked more like a deer path than a driveway. When she got her first look at the house, she groaned out loud. “Oh, Auntie. Have you lost your mind?”

Chase leaned in to get a clearer view between the front headrests. “Didn’t Sam say he was fixing the house?”

“Yes.”

“It looks like he should tear it down instead.”

She couldn’t have summed up the property’s condition any better, but she was wary of agreeing for fear that he’d repeat her comments and hurt their sensitive relative’s feelings. The sprawling farmhouse must have stood on many more acres years ago, and the trees growing around it were the same vintage as the ones she’d admired in the town square. The porch that stretched across the front of the house wasn’t quite done, and the front steps were nowhere to be seen. Entire sections of boards had been replaced, but most of the antiquated windows remained. The end wall was painted a mellow cream, and a pair of wine-colored shutters leaning against it gave her a glimpse of Sam’s plans for the exterior. She could envision it looking classic and stunning when it was finished, but for now, the kindest description she could invent was “work in progress.”

Sam parked near the front porch and climbed out of his truck. Avoiding the puddles, he strolled toward Holly’s car while she sat there trying to come up with something encouraging to say about the dilapidated farmhouse her aunt had bought on a whim for her retirement home.

When she stepped out, she blurted out the only positive remark she could think of. “It’s in a real pretty spot.”

Cocking an eyebrow in obvious amusement, he said, “I know the house isn’t much to look at now, but it’s actually better than it was when I started in the spring.”

“Was it falling down the hill?”

“Not a chance. This place was built of solid oak, and it’ll outlast all of us. It was empty for a while, but with a little work, it’ll be amazing.”

She stared up at him waiting for the punch line, but judging by his earnest expression, he wasn’t yanking her chain. He sounded confident, not in the cocky way some guys could, but in the solid, dependable way a girl would be able to count on.

So, since she wasn’t exactly Miss DIY, Holly decided that she didn’t have a choice other than to trust his assessment. “If you say so.”

“I do.”

The clouds in his eyes lightened, and the corner of his mouth crinkled in a half-hearted motion that made her wonder what it would take to coax an actual smile from him. Not that it was up to her, of course. She was just curious.

“So,” he went on, “I’m guessing you’ve got a trunk full of suitcases.”

“We have a few things,” she retorted, irritated by the thinly veiled display of chauvinism. She’d gotten enough of that from other men to last her for the rest of her life. Overwhelmed by Brady’s deteriorating condition, she’d made the mistake of allowing other people to do things for her that she could have handled herself. It had led them to view her as helpless and, after a while, she’d been alarmed to find she’d started agreeing with them. One of the many things she was determined to change as she took charge of her life again. “It was nice of you to offer your help, but we’ll be fine. Chase can manage the smaller bags and I can get the big ones.”

“No, you can’t.”

Sam’s condescending tone got her back up, and she glared at him. “Excuse me?”

“Easy now,” he soothed with a hand in the air. “I just meant a lady shouldn’t be carrying her own luggage when there’s a guy around who’s willing to do it for her.”

She refused to take that bait and stood with her arms crossed, scowling up at him for all she was worth. After a few seconds of that, he shoved his hands in the back pockets of his well-worn jeans and sighed. “How ’bout we do it together? Those clouds aren’t going anywhere, and I’d hate to see all your stuff get drenched.”

Holly glanced into the distance to see that he was right about the rain and decided there was absolutely no point in being obstinate. This time, anyway. “Okay, that makes sense.”

Reaching back into the car, she popped the trunk as he muttered something under his breath. It wasn’t flattering, but he was taking time out of his day to help her so she opted to let it go. He reminded her of a displeased grizzly bear most of the time, and she wasn’t keen on pushing him too far and alienating him altogether. As the contractor on this large job, he’d be around a lot, and she figured it would go better if they could at least be civil to one another.

Eyeing their pile of luggage, he shook his head but didn’t comment on her heavy traveling style. Instead, he plucked out two enormous cases crammed to the gills and carried them to the finished half of the porch without complaint. Whoa, she thought with honest admiration as she picked up two of the smaller bags. He was even stronger than he looked.

They quickly emptied the trunk and then paused while Holly fished out the key Aunt Daphne had left at the bakery for her. As she turned the knob, Sam stopped her with a hand on her arm.

“Did Daphne warn you about Pandora?”

That sounded ominous, and Holly couldn’t help giggling. “You mean, as in ‘Don’t open that box’?”

She delivered the last few words in a horror movie narrator voice, and to her utter surprise, he laughed. She’d barely been able to get a smirk out of him until now, so the bright sound astonished her. Quite honestly, she wasn’t sure he had that kind of humor in him, and it was nice to discover that he did.

“No, I mean, the big black cat named Pandora. I never got the connection till now, but she can be a troublemaker, so her name definitely fits.” Looking down at Chase, he went on, “She’s the queen around here, and you’ll do well to remember that.”

Holly wasn’t much of a cat person, so his advice seemed slightly over the top. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope.”

He looked deadly serious, but she simply couldn’t picture herself kowtowing to any ball of fur smaller than her. “Fine. Can we go in now?”

In answer, he swung the door open and stepped back to let her go ahead of him. Before she had a chance to set even one foot inside, a streak of black tore through the hallway and disappeared under the plastic that was stretched across the wide staircase that led to the second floor.

Feeling a little off-kilter in the middle of a strange house in a town she’d never visited, Holly forgot Sam was even there until he cleared his throat.

“Hmm?” she asked.

“I could use a hand with the door.”

Idiot, Holly scolded herself, reaching past him to push open what was obviously a freshly repaired screen door. “Sorry. The cat spooked me, and I spaced out there for a second. I guess these should go upstairs.”

“The two guest rooms are in the front of the house. They have the nicest views, so Daphne had me finish those first.”

“Cool!” Chase approved, ducking under the barrier in much the same way Pandora had. As he pounded up the raw wooden steps, Holly took a moment to get a better sense of the place that Sam had such high hopes for.

The entry must have been a grand foyer back in the day, but the cosmetic issues outside were nothing compared to the demolition that had gutted the interior. From walls to ceilings, everything had been stripped back to the studs and was in the process of being rebuilt. The wide oak planks on the floor had been sanded down to their natural state, and there were patches of various stains around the living room, as if someone was testing them for color.

“I know it’s a mess right now,” he said, giving voice to her less-than-optimistic thought, “but I’ll have it done in time.”

“In time for what?”

Glancing upstairs, he went on in a muted voice. “Don’t tell anyone else ’cause it’s supposed to be a surprise, but Daphne wants to fly your whole family up here in November to celebrate Thanksgiving with her. That was before we knew how bad the termites had gotten to the timbers over the years, but she’s still set on making it happen. It’s my job to make sure you all have a nice place to stay while you’re here.”

“That sounds like something she’d do,” Holly commented fondly. “During her acting career, she lived in big houses and adored having company. I guess now she’ll just invite everyone here instead.”

“I’d imagine so. Could you pull that plastic back for me?”

Holly peeled away one side of it for Sam to go through and followed him up. At the top of the stairs, he turned down a short hallway and stopped between two massive doors that looked like they were made of mahogany. One was open, and she saw Chase inside, testing the bounciness of the mattress on his bed. She nearly scolded him, then thought better of it. He’d been so great all day, a little trampoline time seemed like a good reward. At least he’d taken his shoes off before climbing on it, she noted proudly.

Leaving him to his fun, she opened the other bedroom door for Sam, and what she saw inside made her smile. Daphne had always kept a special guest room for Holly to use during visits to Beverly Hills, and she’d duplicated it in her new house. The walls were painted a cloudy blue, and white trim around the windows framed lush green scenery that promised to be beautiful when the sun finally came out. From the four-poster bed to the chair in front of the small desk, it was all here, and Holly immediately felt like she belonged.

Strolling in behind her, Sam set her bags inside the walk-in closet. “From the way you’re smiling, I take it I got everything right.”

“Perfect. It feels like home.”

“That’s what she was after, so I’m glad you approve. Have a look around while I get the rest of your stuff.”

While he was gone, she went to the other window to see if her room looked out on more than the quiet landscape. She pulled aside a lacy curtain and discovered that she had a distant peekaboo view of the historic bridge. Now that she was finally here, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the centuries-old structure had guided her toward a better place than the one she’d recently left. Wondering what lay ahead for Chase and her, she stared out at it until she heard Sam’s boots coming up the stairs again.

The time for daydreaming was over. Aunt Daphne was coming home soon, and Holly had a lot of work to do before then.

* * *

Turning away from the foggy view, Holly asked, “So, is there a tour?”

“Sure.”

Since he didn’t know what else to say, Sam motioned her out the door. Fortunately for him, she was the bubbly, curious type, which meant he didn’t have to do much more than answer her questions. While he took her through the house, she pressed him for all sorts of details about the rehab that was under way. The roof, the porches, the architectural touches—she was interested in it all, and Sam was only too happy to keep her talking. That accent of hers was downright hypnotizing.

In the kitchen, she turned to him with amazement lighting those incredible eyes. “I can’t believe you’re doing this all by yourself.”

“Actually, a couple friends come and help out when I need extra hands.” Sensing that it was time to come clean, he paused to clear his throat. “I think you should know Daphne hurt her back when she tripped on something that got left on the main stairway. It was an accident, but I feel awful about it. We all do.”

That it had been a part-timer who’d carelessly left his toolbox where it didn’t belong didn’t matter to Sam. That he’d fired the guy on the spot was beside the point. Sam was in charge of this project, and to him that meant he was responsible for Daphne’s injury. He wasn’t crazy about having to apologize for other people’s mistakes, but he wouldn’t shirk the blame, either. Someday it might not be necessary for him to work within such a tight budget, and he’d be able to hire a skilled full-time crew. But right now he didn’t have a choice. Running a small business was tough in the best of times, and with the local economy still reeling from all kinds of setbacks, he couldn’t afford to pay the rates professional subcontractors charged.

He held his breath, waiting to see how she’d react to the news, but Holly gave him a reassuring look. “She told me all about it. She doesn’t blame you even the tiniest bit, and neither do I. Things like that happen, and she’s going to be fine.”

“Thanks for saying that. I appreciate it.” Now that he’d fessed up, Sam felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and he relaxed enough to be friendlier. “Come on, and I’ll show you the room we set up for Daphne to use while she’s on the mend. It has a full bath next to it, so I think it’ll work well for her. I just finished painting the trim yesterday, so it might still be tacky in spots.”

The large back parlor had a wide bank of windows, and he’d already moved Daphne’s bedroom furniture down from the master bedroom. A huge TV was mounted over the fireplace, in clear view of the bed set up on the opposite wall. Trailing a hand over the hand-carved rosewood mantel, Holly peered out the windows that overlooked the backyard. “Wow, it’s even worse than the front. I think I saw Tarzan up in one of those trees.”

“That’s why she got such a good deal on this place. Well, that and the termites.”

Holly typed something on her phone and backtracked into the kitchen. Sam watched her throw open one cupboard after another, then both sides of the shiny new French door–style fridge. When she glanced up, she asked, “Why are there two bowls up there?”

“Pandora likes to eat there. That way, she can keep an eye on everything.”

“Seriously?” He nodded, and she laughed. “This is one spoiled cat, but I guess I better go along with it, since that’s what she’s used to.”

When she finally reached the last cupboard, the amused look on her face told him that she’d found what she was hunting for on a bare shelf. Taking out another of Daphne’s personalized envelopes, she read the note out loud. “Get whatever you think we should have, Peaches.”

Holly opened it, and inside were more hundred-dollar bills than Sam had ever seen in one place. “She left you money already.”

“That was for Chase and me, in case we need something. This—” she held up an impressive fan of Benjamins “—is for food. Totally different.”

“Okay,” he replied, still unable to believe how much cash Daphne kept on hand. “While I’m thinking of it, you gotta tell me why she calls you Peaches.”

Holly laughed. “It’s an old nickname. When I was little, I wouldn’t eat anything other than peaches. If Mom wanted me to try something new, she had to mix some of them in or I wouldn’t touch it. Dad started calling me Peaches, and it stuck.”

Looking at the nearly empty shelves, he said, “Looks like you’ve got some shopping to do. Daphne mostly eats out, either on her own or with friends. She told me she can hardly work the microwave, but I figured she was kidding.”

“No, she was totally serious. She’s a people person, and machines confound her. But we can’t take her to a restaurant for every meal in her condition, so when we spoke on the phone last week, I warned her that we’d need some groceries.”

“I can help with that, if you want,” he blurted without thinking. Despite his earlier wariness, something about this spunky single mom made him want to step up and give her a hand. It wasn’t a date or anything, he assured himself, and he could catch up on his lengthy to-do list tomorrow. The work wasn’t going anywhere. “I’ll put away those supplies I brought and meet you out at my truck.”

She didn’t say anything to that, and he wondered what he might have said wrong. Then it hit him that she might not be inclined to get into a stranger’s car with her son, and he amended his offer. “You can follow me out there if you’d rather do it that way.”

Gazing up at him, she studied him for several long, uncomfortable moments. Then, to his great relief, she smiled. “Auntie D trusts you. That’s good enough for me.”

Sam felt as if he’d just scored a touchdown, but the swift connection he’d made with this engaging woman was unsettling, so he kept it to himself. After shuttling in the new kitchen faucet and fixtures for Daphne’s bathroom, he went back to his truck. Reaching behind the seat, he grabbed a clean shirt to replace the grimy one he was wearing. The bottle of water he found underneath it wasn’t cold, but it felt good going down, and he finished it off while he waited.

A few minutes later, Holly and Chase joined him, and he opened the passenger door for them. The boy eagerly jumped in, but Holly hung back, rewarding Sam with another of her heartwarming smiles before climbing inside. He’d counted four different versions of that expression, and he wondered how many more she had tucked away, ready to be pulled out for the right occasion. He’d just met her, and she was already drawing him in like some kind of feminine magnet.

He really needed to get a grip, he thought as he settled into the driver’s seat. Out of necessity, he’d pulled into himself after leaving the service, unwilling to subject anyone to the turmoil of emotions that seemed to have taken up permanent residence inside him. His little sister had accused him of becoming a hermit, and while he believed her assessment was on the melodramatic side, he couldn’t deny that it wasn’t too far off the truth.

One day, he’d be almost like his old self: confident, capable and ready to take on whatever life threw at him. And the next, he’d take an enormous step back into the mire that had dominated his perception of the world since his injuries had sent him home. The physical wounds had long since healed, but inside the scars sometimes felt as fresh as if they’d happened yesterday. He’d give anything to go back and relive that day, find some way to make it end differently.

But he couldn’t. He regretted that more than he’d ever be able to convey, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

Squaring his shoulders with determination, Sam put aside the past and focused on the misty view outside the windshield. Unfortunately, in the enclosed cab, he caught a whiff of Holly’s perfume. With a mental groan, he identified the flowery scent: roses. He’d always had a fondness for roses.

“There’s a small market in town,” he explained as he headed for the highway. “But considering the fact that Daphne’s cupboards are pretty much empty, I’m thinking you need something more than a few cans of soup and a loaf of bread. Waterford has a big new grocery store that should do the trick.”

“Oh, it’s not far, is it? It’s getting late, and I hate to take up the rest of your day.”

“Not a problem.”

A blossoming smile made its way across her face, reminding him of the way the sun came up over the nearby hills every morning. The poetic comparison was so unlike him, he was beginning to wonder if he was coming down with something.

“You’re a nice guy, Sam.”

Her sweet, no-frills compliment trickled into a part of him that had been cold and dead for so long, he’d begun to think it would stay that way. His brain was clanging a warning, but the rest of him apparently wasn’t listening because he found himself smiling back at her. “You sound surprised.”

“I am.”

She didn’t say anything more, but the lingering gaze she gave him before looking out the passenger window made his heart roll over in his chest. Normally cautious when it came to relationships, he wasn’t one to go all mushy over a woman the first time he met her.

But this one had gotten to him on some level that he didn’t quite understand. One thing he knew for sure, though: he didn’t like it. Not one bit.