Читать книгу The Single Dad's Redemption - Roxanne Rustand - Страница 13

Chapter Four

“So as you can see, this cash register is really easy.” Keeley gave the drawer a firm shove to close it. “Any questions?”

“Nope.” But the store, with its thousands of frilly, sparkly, dangly things everywhere and the multitude of stained-glass lamps hanging from the ceiling, made him want to go rope a steer. Bale hay. Anything that would be outside and far from town, where a man could drag in a deep breath and not inhale the scents of soaps and fancy creams and a forest of dried flower arrangements.

Why anyone would want a bunch of dead flowers instead of fresh ones, he couldn’t even begin to fathom. He rubbed the back of his neck.

“I can tell you’re really loving this,” she said dryly. “So let’s get on with the tour, okay?”

He nodded and followed her into the storeroom, where deep shelving lined each wall from floor to ceiling. A worktable held a coffeemaker, gift wrap and a pile of shipping supplies. “I don’t suppose you’ve done much gift wrapping and shipping.”

“Nope.” He thought back over the difficult four years of his marriage. He’d hung in there, trying to make his son’s life normal and happy, but there hadn’t been much to celebrate with a wife who’d often met her girlfriends in bars, drank too much and didn’t always come home.

“Wrapping is easy.” She collected two gift boxes from the shelf over the table and pulled two lengths of bright pink paper from one of the rollers, then handed him a tape dispenser and scissors. “Just copy what I do, step by step.”

She led him through the process three times before she was satisfied, then showed him how to affix a Keeley’s Antiques & Gifts sticker and a bow on the top. “Easy, right?”

Bows and sparkly pink wrapping paper. What would his brothers think of him now? He thought longingly about stacking hay. Cleaning horse stalls. Wrestling calves for branding. “Uh...right.”

No wonder she’d seemed hesitant—even wary—when she’d first offered him a job. Desperate as she was to find help, even she must have seen that he wouldn’t be good at this.

“The shipping boxes are all stacked flat, but are super easy to make up.” She reached for one on an upper shelf and whipped it together in the blink of an eye. “You can use crumpled paper or the little air-filled cushioning pillows—in that box over there. No foam packing peanuts. I hate those peanuts.”

“What about sweeping around here? Mowing—and those maintenance projects you mentioned? I’d be better at that.”

“Yes, but you aren’t getting off that easy.”

Her eyes twinkled. “If I need to leave to check on my dad or need to run to an estate auction, for instance, I’ll need you to handle things here. I’ve already got a boy who comes to sweep and such after school. You’ll meet Bobby on Monday.”

He caught a flash of movement above head level to his left and spun around, expecting to catch something falling from a shelf.

A scrawny white cat glared down at him, its back arched and tail raised. With a torn ear and one eye closed, it looked like a pirate fallen on bad times. Its superior expression suggested that it knew Connor wasn’t much better off.

“Rags,” Keeley murmured as she deftly finished preparing and sealing another shipping box. “Any questions?”

“Rags?”

“The cat.”

“It looks...” He was at a loss for words. Maybe it was her prized possession, but it was the homeliest creature he’d ever seen.

“Worse for wear?” She smiled up at the furry beast, then reached into a dorm-size refrigerator under the counter, grabbed a can of cat food and pulled back the tab on the lid. She set it on the workbench. “He showed up a few weeks ago and I didn’t have the heart to turn him away. He’s never let me touch him, but I’m working on it. Once we’re friends, I’ll catch him and get him vaccinated and neutered.”

“I’m sure he’ll love that,” Connor said dryly.

“Not his choice, given the feral-cat population around here.” She put the shipping materials away then turned to face Connor once more. “So—this is where my extra stock is. I’ve labeled the larger boxes clearly, and small items are in labeled plastic totes. If I’m not here and you have any questions, there’s a phone by the register and you can always call my cell.”

“I think I can handle it.”

She frowned. “Do you have a cell phone? In case I need to reach you?”

“Just a basic no-contract, prepaid phone I picked up in Montana. Text and calls, but no internet.”

“That works.” She reached for her back jeans’ pocket, took out her phone and punched in his number as he recited it to her, then gave him her number. “We’re all set, then.”

“You mentioned repairs.” He gestured toward a five-gallon pail strategically placed under a slowly dripping leak in the ceiling by the back wall. “Do you have a list?”

At that she rolled her eyes. “Sadly, more lists than I could keep track of. I finally had to start putting them all in a ring notebook along with a raft of estimates. Most of the jobs are big and will require more time than you’ll be here, or need to be done by someone licensed and bonded. I’ve got all that scheduled. But there are endless small jobs, believe me.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Three years. I’ve already done quite a bit to this place, but the building is older than a lot of my antiques, and it was empty for several years before I bought it. The repairs and updates just don’t end—and now I have a ticking clock, as it were.”

He moved to the window facing the alley and ran a hand over the water damage on the sill. “A deadline?”

A faint blush rose in her cheeks. “I’ve had a few financial problems and now I need to refinance a short-term reno loan within a couple months, plus my mortgage while the rates are still low.”

“Seems like this is a successful business, though.”

“Depends. Tourism plummeted last year due to a cold, wet spring and blistering-hot, humid summer. It was like a ghost town during our busy season. Not only that, but last year I had to replace the furnace and AC, and this year all of the plumbing. My dad still insists that I was a fool to buy this building, but I’m going to prove him wrong.” She heaved a sigh. “I hope.”

Connor whistled. “Bad year.”

She nodded. “The loan officer says he won’t refinance if the place isn’t fully up to code, and he’ll require a full inspection. There’s a lot of work left to do.”

“There must be contractors around here, though.”

“Some, but the best one is booked six months out. I’ve been on his schedule since February, for a number of projects.” She eyed him thoughtfully. “Your job application listed past jobs as ranching and rodeo. I guess I don’t exactly know what your skills are.”

He laughed. “Not many that apply to this place.”

“So, you grew up on a ranch?”

“Yep. We raised cattle, horses and hay. But then a bad case of ‘bright lights and big city’ knocked me sideways. After graduating from college I ended up on the pro rodeo circuit for nine years.”

She tilted her head and studied him for a moment. “Can you go back to rodeo now?”

“I’ve been away too long, and championship-level rodeo is mostly a younger man’s sport, except something like team roping. Eventually I would’ve needed to stop and do something else anyway.”

“Like what?”

He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “That will take serious thought.”

“What about going back to your family’s ranch?”

He ignored the twinge of pain in his heart whenever he thought about the angry phone conversations with his dad during his first few years away from home—calls that had always ended with Dad slamming the phone into its cradle.

“Nope. That water went down the creek long time ago. As the oldest son, I was expected to head home after college and eventually take over, not go all over the country chasing dreams. My dad quit talking to me years ago.”

She reached out and rested a hand on his arm—a gesture that sent a warm rush of sensation straight to his chest. “I’m so sorry.”

“My incarceration sealed that deal anyway, but it’s all right. I’m thirty-three and it’s not too late to go back to grad school or vet school. That was my plan in the first place once I’d saved enough winnings on the rodeo circuit.”

Her brows drew together. “But still...it’s your family, Connor. Do you have any brothers or sisters? What about your mom?”

“Mom walked out on Dad while I was in high school and moved out East. She never came back. My younger brothers were bitter when I took off, because they were left behind to work on the ranch. But now they manage the whole spread, so they’ve got a good deal going.” He shrugged. “When I’ve got my future sorted out again, I’ll give them a call. But not before.”

She searched his face, her eyes filled with sympathy. “At least you’re free now and can get on with your life. Right?”

He nodded. It had been years since he’d held a hammer, but maybe working here could give him a current reference for when he started job hunting, after he’d dealt with Marsha in Detroit.

For the first time, he felt a glimmer of hope.

“I don’t know which of our dads is the bigger challenge,” she said with a rueful shake of her head. “Mine used to be a general contractor. Just six months ago he was helping with the reno projects around here, but now his mind is failing and he’s more testy than ever. You never know what’s ahead in life, right?”

He almost laughed at that.

One day he’d been climbing into his pickup to reach the next rodeo up in Butte—the next he’d been behind bars and accused of murder.

And nothing—not his prayers to the God who no longer cared, not his lawyer and not even a witness who’d seen him that night elsewhere—had made one bit of difference.