Читать книгу Hometown Reunion - Pam Andrews - Страница 9

Anyone who thought small-town life was too quiet should follow Aunt Bess around for a day, Lori thought.

She was pretending to read a book she’d borrowed from her aunt’s bookcase, but the words were a meaningless jumble as she thought about the prospect of working with Scott.

“Just one more phone call,” Bess called out from the kitchen. “Then we’ll have a little chat before bed.”

Lori knew that her aunt was eager to hear all the details about her departure from the job in Chicago, but she wasn’t ready to release all the pain bottled up inside of her. Bess would see her point of view and envelop her in sympathy. She would counsel her to put her faith in the Lord and would tell her everything would work out for the best. Lori wholeheartedly wanted to believe that, but she wasn’t ready to share her frustration and loss of confidence, not even with her dear aunt.

“I know you and Scott will work well together,” Bess said, plopping down in her recliner and using her toes to kick off her sandals. “I remember how you always dropped by when he was scheduled to cut my grass. When you were here, he took double the time to do my yard. Seeing as how you both had such big crushes, I was surprised that you never dated.”

Lori blushed. Had she and Scott been so transparent with their feelings back then?

“Well, it looks like you could use a good night’s sleep,” Bess said. “I hate to admit it, but I’m worn to a frazzle, what with the field trip my class is planning and all the business with the café. I think I’ll go to bed. Is there anything you need?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Well, I’ll say good-night, then. I’m so happy the Lord has brought you home to Apple Grove.”

“I’m grateful to be here. Thank you for taking me in.”

“As if I don’t love you like a daughter,” her aunt said, giving her a hug.

For a few moments after Bess left the room, Lori basked in the warmth of her aunt’s love. She adored Bess, and she hated the thought of disappointing her when it came time to leave.

Monday morning Scott gave Joey’s face a quick once-over with the washcloth, satisfied that his milk mustache and the stray bits of oatmeal were gone. He might only be imagining it, but the women at the day care seemed to inspect his son with eagle eyes whenever Scott dropped him off. They didn’t seem to trust a single father to keep his child neat and clean. It wasn’t easy, but he loved Joey, and would do all he could to raise him right.

“Can I take my yo-yo?”

“Better not. We’ll have another lesson after supper.”

Joey was showing amazing dexterity with his hands, and Scott was proud that his son was taking after him that way, if not in appearance. He had pale blond hair and bright blue eyes, not unlike Scott’s in childhood, but his heart-shaped face was nothing like his father’s. Scott could still see Mandy’s face etched on their son’s.

“I hope we don’t have that soup with things in it,” Joey said as he followed his father to the pickup. “I hate vegables.”

“Vegetables,” Scott corrected absentmindedly. “Climb up, big guy.”

It was a short drive from the trailer park to the day-care center. He’d tried leaving Joey with a neighbor, but the woman had been more interested in her three poodles than his son. When he’d learned that Joey hardly ever got to play outside, he’d immediately enrolled him in group care. It was more expensive, something he could barely afford since his business gave him a decent living but not much for extras.

He parked in front of the neat brick house and went around to the back entrance that led to the lower level, which had been converted into space for preschool children.

As usual, one of the helpers gave Joey a warm welcome when they went inside and immediately steered him to a play station.

“Did you bring the form for our trip to the farm?” Betty Drummond, the head caregiver, asked Scott.

He’d flunked parenthood again. The pink slip of paper was at home, on the kitchen counter.

“Would it be all right if I drop it off when I pick Joey up?”

Betty had a round, friendly face framed by fluffy silver hair, but her silence told him that it wasn’t all right.

“The children are really looking forward to their trip to the farm,” she said.

“I’ll run home and get it,” he said, wondering why she didn’t have an extra form he could sign there. Surely he wasn’t the only parent who ever forgot.

“I’d appreciate it,” Betty said cordially enough, although no doubt her thoughts weren’t as understanding as her voice. Didn’t moms ever make mistakes?

He returned to the aging white-and-green trailer he called home and hurriedly filled in the blanks on the field-trip form. He couldn’t fault the day care for wanting a doctor’s name and an emergency number, but the closest person he had as a contact person was his sister, Doreen, and she lived nearly forty miles away.

His parents were even farther away, since his father had had to move west to Omaha to find a job when Apple Grove’s only plant had closed. He’d worked his way up to foreman of the milk-processing facility, and it had been a blow to lose the only employer he’d ever had as an adult. Now his dad was counting the months until he could afford to retire from a tedious night watchman job.

All the friends he and Mandy had had as a couple had dropped out of sight, too. Most likely it was his fault. Taking care of Joey and trying to make a living took all his time and energy.

By the time he delivered the permission form, he was late for his appointment at the old café. He’d made a few rough sketches and done some estimates to show the committee, but he had a lot more work to do before he could make a final bid for the project. He never would’ve dreamed he’d be working with Lori Raymond. He still marveled that she was back in Apple Grove.

He drove the short distance to Main Street and parked in front of the café. Ten years ago he would have done anything for a chance to be alone with Lori, but she’d been a good girl in every sense of the word. Everything she’d said and done had sent him a message: She wouldn’t have anything to do with a wild kid who didn’t embrace churchgoing.

He felt differently about a lot of things now, even taking Joey to Sunday school every week, but he still didn’t feel comfortable in church or feel God played a part in his life. He’d had to grow up fast when Mandy died, but part of him still felt like the rebellious outcast. The town accepted him for his construction skills, but he never felt like he belonged.

The lights showed dimly through the filthy front window, so he guessed Lori was in the café, waiting for him. He couldn’t believe it, but he actually felt a little nervous about seeing her again.

Scott was late.

Lori hoped nothing was wrong and knew it was her own worries about her future that were making her impatient. She certainly didn’t want to get off to a bad start with Scott by mentioning his tardiness. The sooner he could get the café ready to open, the sooner she could leave to take a permanent job.

“Hello!”

She heard him calling from the front and went out to meet him.

“Good morning,” she said, surprised that she felt a little breathless seeing him again.

“Sorry I’m late.” He didn’t explain why.

“I was just looking around. It looks worse in the daylight.”

He laughed. “I think they’d be better off building a new place on the outskirts of town, but that isn’t what they want.”

“No, my aunt made it plain that they’re hoping to revive Main Street.”

“I thought they’d have trouble getting a cook. A lot of the people who used to live here are gone.”

“But you’re still here,” she blurted out, immediately wishing she could take the words back.

She’d vowed to avoid personal comments. After all, Scott didn’t know that she’d lived for a glimpse of him all through high school. Whenever he had spoken to her, she’d recorded every word he’d said in her diary. But she wasn’t a teenager with a crush anymore, and she didn’t expect them to be more than casual acquaintances in the short time she’d be in town.

“Fate is funny sometimes,” he said, looking around the dining area, with a little frown. “Do you want to keep the lunch counter or tear it out for more table room?”

“I don’t have a strong opinion either way. I’m more interested in the kitchen,” she said. Talking about the café renovations was much safer than dwelling on the past.

“I have a feeling the committee wants things just the way they’ve always been.”

“You’re probably right. My aunt hasn’t talked to me about finances, but she seems to think a few nails and a little cleaning will make it as good as new.”

He laughed softly and took off the battered cowboy hat. His hair was a darker blond than she remembered, and tiny wrinkle lines radiated from the corners of his serious blue eyes. Still, ten years had made him even more handsome, and she imagined that he was a favorite with all the women in town.

“I have to check out the cellar and the roof, and I’ll take a look at the wiring and plumbing. Hopefully, I won’t find anything really bad, but the pharmacy down the street was riddled with termites a few years back. I had to shore up the whole building after the exterminators were done. I’m hoping that won’t be necessary here, but this building is about a hundred years old.”

“That doesn’t sound good.” She exhaled slowly and realized she’d been holding her breath.

“I wish they would’ve called me to do an inspection before they bought the building. Most buyers have one before they agree to a sale, but the folks here were too eager to restart the café.”

“That would be my aunt,” she said, with a little laugh. “I have a feeling she spearheaded the whole idea.”

“Where do you want to start?”

“Oh.” She was a bit surprised that he wanted her to give directions. “The kitchen, I guess.”

“Thought any more about junking that monstrosity?”

“The range? I guess it depends on whether the committee wants to buy a new one.”

The kitchen seemed even smaller with Scott taking up much of the room between the huge range and the work counter.

“My aunt has plenty of volunteers for the cleanup. I imagine they can haul away the debris and such.”

He nodded absentmindedly. “It’s an awkward setup, the waitress having to come through the swinging doors to deliver the food. You could take down part of this wall to make a pass-through for orders.”

“That sounds expensive, tearing out a wall.”

“The whole place needs new wallboard. That knotty pine wainscoting has to go, not to mention that the wallpaper above it is filthy and peeling off. I’ve no idea what I’ll find when I’ve stripped it.”

“I don’t think the fridge is working,” she said, remembering one of her big concerns. “It was turned on when the electricity came on last night, but it’s still warm inside.”

He only grunted. “Let’s take a look at the cellar.”

Did he mean for her to go down there with him? She’d never liked cellars, and she was afraid this one would be particularly creepy.

“I’m not so sure about this,” she weakly protested.

“Follow me, and hang on to the railing. I don’t trust these old steps.”

He stepped through a door and felt with his hand for a light switch. When the light at the bottom of the steps went on, he still needed his flashlight. The single weak bulb dangling from a cord did little to illuminate the low-ceilinged cellar.

“Watch your head,” he called back, stooping to avoid hitting his.

Lori crept close to him, relieved that at least she could stand upright.

“They never threw anything away,” Scott said, sounding surprised as his light played over the shelves lining every wall. “Look at those tins. I bet that peanut butter pail is almost as old as the building.”

Her curiosity made her forget how much she hated cellars. Apparently generations of the Conklin family hadn’t believed in throwing anything away. She pointed at a red metal box.

“What on earth is that?”

“Probably a dispenser,” he replied. “I imagine it sat on the lunch counter so a customer could put in a penny and get a box of matches.”

“Look. Glass ketchup bottles. The labels are still on.”

“At least they washed them,” Scott said, without enthusiasm.

He was creeping around in the darkest corners at the far end of the cellar, moving his light over a foundation made of stones cemented together. She’d had enough.

“I’m going upstairs,” she called out.

One thing he could put on his list was a new stairway with a railing that didn’t shake when she touched it. But then, it was unlikely she’d be going down here very often. She would find other places to store supplies, even if they had to hang from the ceiling.

Scott was gone so long, she began to wonder whether she should call down or, worse, go looking for him. When he did emerge, his hands were black with grime.

“Do you mind if I wash up?” he asked.

“No, and by the way, you have a spiderweb in your hair.”

She reached up and attempted to pull it away; she was sorry about her impulsive gesture when he looked at her with surprise. The nasty little strands stuck to her fingers, reminding her of how much she didn’t like spiders. And how much she had liked Scott.

When he brought an extension ladder from his truck and propped it against the building, she elected not to follow him up to the roof. Whatever he found, she would have to take it on trust.

Aunt Bess and her committee must think highly of Scott, she decided, because he was the only one giving them an estimate on the work. Of course, her aunt thought the best of everyone.

The aluminum ladder was probably stronger than it looked, but it wobbled as Scott climbed up. He disappeared from sight for what seemed like a long time, and when he threw his leg over to climb down, she was even more nervous for him. She automatically said a prayer that he would get to the ground safely, then wondered whether he would scoff at her if he knew. The boy she’d been head over heels for seemed less cynical as an adult, but Lori wasn’t sure.

“Bad news and good news,” he said when he got to the ground. “The roof was tarred fairly recently. I think it’s good for now, but the chimney needs some work.”

“Can you do that, too?” she asked, wondering what the extent of his skill was.

“I can repair it, but I recommend a professional cleaning. The furnace was converted from coal. I suspect they may once have burned trash in it, too.”

They’d burned coal? She had never known anyone who had a coal furnace. She was beginning to realize what a tremendous responsibility her aunt and the committee had undertaken in buying such an old building.

She didn’t try to oversee the rest of his inspection. Some things she could see for herself: the poor layout of the kitchen, the shabby condition of the linoleum flooring throughout the building, the urgent need to repaint the old-fashioned tin ceiling and the peeling surfaces of chairs that had probably been painted half a dozen different colors over the years.

“Wow,” she said, more to herself than to him.

If it was God’s plan to give her a tremendous challenge, He’d brought her to the right place. She would give it her all, but she still fervently hoped that she could accomplish what was needed and get on with her life as soon as possible.

After what seemed like hours of peeking, poking and probing, Scott sat across from her at one of the dusty tables.

“It will take me a while to work out everything that’s needed and give you an estimate,” he said, still writing figures on a pad.

“I understand.”

He was all business, and she missed the easy friendship they’d had many years ago. She wanted to ask him about his life. Was he happy? Where was his wife? He’d yet to mention her, and she didn’t want to pry. She didn’t know where he lived or why he seemed to take sole responsibility for Joey. But nothing he said or did invited the kind of confidences they’d once shared.

When he’d said everything there was to say about the renovation, he slipped his notepad into the back pocket of his jeans and retrieved his hat.

He turned at the doorway with a twinkle in his eyes that she hadn’t seen in a long time.

“When you cook, do you wear one of those chef’s hats?” He sketched a tall shape in the air with his hands.

“It depends on where I’m working.”

“Here, for instance.”

“I suppose I could. Why do you ask?” She eyed him quizzically.

“Just wondering how you’d look in a starchy white getup.”

He grinned and was gone.