by Lisa Jordan
They raced into the house, elbowing one another to be the first in line. Landon wore a bath-towel cape, and Olivia wore a glittery pink tutu over a unicorn hoodie.
As Olivia rushed past, Isabella plucked a leaf from her windblown blond hair.
“Ow!” Grabbing her head, the little girl whirled around, shooting an accusatory look at Isabella, then turned her attention to Tucker. “Daddy, she pulled my hair.”
Isabella’s cheeks heated as she looked at the dry leaf in her hand. “I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to. I was simply removing the leaf.”
“My name is Olivia Lillian Holland.” She snatched the leaf from Isabella and slapped it back on her hair. “And I wanted that leaf there.”
Tucker dropped to his haunches and reached for his daughter’s hand. “Well, Miss Olivia Lillian Holland, in this house, we show kindness to others. And you’re being very rude. You owe Bella an apology.”
“But I don’t want to.” Her bottom lip protruded as tears filled her eyes.
“I didn’t ask if you wanted to. Bella didn’t hurt you on purpose, but your words and sassy attitude are not okay. I’ll wait until you’re ready to apologize.”
Landon nudged his sister. “Hurry up, Livie. I’m hungry.”
Tucker shot his son a look. “Landon.”
The boy rolled his eyes and trudged down the hall. Tucker returned his attention to Olivia, watching silently and waiting.
“Daddy...”
“Livie...”
Isabella edged a step closer to the door. “Maybe I should go.”
Tucker reached for her hand, his rough skin warm against hers. “No.”
“Livie, Bella is one of my very best friends. I’ve known her since I was your age. How would you feel if Bridget and Addie came over to play and I said grumpy things to them?”
Olivia’s hands flew to her face. “Oh Daddy, I would be so ’barassed.”
Tucker bit his lip and nodded. “Exactly. Now, what do you say to Bella?”
Olivia’s cheeks reddened as her eyes darted between her father and Isabella, then she lowered her lashes. “Sorry for using my grumpy voice.”
Isabella smiled and touched her cheek. “Thank you for saying that, and I forgive you. I use my grumpy voice sometimes, too. My name’s Isabella, and I think we will become good friends.”
“Are you going to be our new mommy?”
Isabella gave her a startled look. “What? No. Why do you ask that?”
“Because you and my daddy are holding hands the way Uncle Jake holds Tori’s hand.”
Isabella dropped Tucker’s hand as if it were on fire and clasped hers behind her back.
Tucker laughed, a warm, rich sound that flowed through Isabella. “Bella will be caring for you while I’m working until Auntie Willow returns from her trip.”
Olivia’s bottom lip trembled. “I miss Mandy. And Auntie Willow.”
Tucker wrapped her in his arms. “I know you do, sweetheart. Let’s eat, then we’ll take Bella down to visit the farm.”
Olivia’s face brightened as she scrambled out of his embrace and headed for the bathroom. Tucker prayed over the food, then dished up the kids’ plates.
Thirty minutes later, and after telling Isabella twice to leave the dishes, Tucker ushered the four of them out the door and into the afternoon sunshine. Isabella stuffed her hands in the front pocket of her pullover hoodie and wished she’d brought a jacket to wear over her long sweatshirt and leggings.
The twins ran ahead, Landon’s cape flowing behind him and Olivia’s unicorn horn bobbing as she moved. Olivia stopped to pick some purple flowers growing alongside the road, then held them out to Isabella.
“Thank you. Purple’s my favorite color.”
“Mine, too.” Olivia looked at her shyly, then fell in step with Isabella and Tucker instead of running ahead to catch up with her brother.
Maybe Isabella didn’t need to be Mary Poppins or have a degree in early childhood education. After all, she could totally relate to the motherless young child on so many levels. And perhaps that was the key to building this relationship.
Hope bloomed in her chest, filling her with excitement for the first time since agreeing to Tucker’s suggestion. After all, it was only for a couple of weeks. She could handle it for Tucker’s sake...and for her own.
Chapter Four
Isabella needed to up her game.
Otherwise she wasn’t going to meet her deadline to have the diner ready for the grand reopening on Monday.
Still kneeling and holding the pry bar he’d used to remove the baseboard molding, Tucker sat back on his heels and wiped the back of his hand across his forehead. “Bella, either you’re wearing some sort of superhero costume under that pink T-shirt and your jeans, or you’ve seriously overestimated my abilities. We’re going to need more than a week to get everything done.”
With his faded blue baseball hat on backward, faded Levi’s and red V-neck T-shirt that showed every muscle in his back when he moved, Isabella struggled to keep her attention on the wall she’d been painting.
Standing on a ladder with a paintbrush in her hand, Isabella looked down at him. “Well, that’s all the time we have. Everything needs to be done by Sunday evening.”
“Does your dad know what you have planned?”
“Not specifically, but he bought the paint and flooring a while ago and told me to use it instead of wasting money on something new.”
“He’s pretty set in his ways. So are his customers.”
“And look where that’s got him. He hasn’t raised his prices in years, and now, thanks to some mystery debt he won’t talk about, he’s about to lose everything. Set or not, something needs to change. It might as well be the wall color.” Her voice cracked on the last words as she climbed down the ladder.
Perfect. Now she was crying in front of him.
A wave of fatigue washed over her, pressing down on her shoulders.
Caring for the twins took way more energy than she had expected. Once she’d gotten them into bed, she’d stayed up way too late making plans for the diner, and then she couldn’t sleep on Livie’s trundle bed. Thankfully, she could sleep in her own bed tonight, but she didn’t expect to rest until the diner was ready for reopening on Monday.
In the meantime, she needed to find the energy to finish the walls she’d been painting since eight o’clock yesterday morning.
Tucker took two steps to her, then pulled her against his chest. “Hey, I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be a downer or anything. I just hate to see you pushing yourself like this.”
Her arms slid around his waist as he tightened his hold. She breathed in the scent of his fabric softener. “I’ll be fine. Dad’s the one I’m worried about. He’s still so tired and run-down. I’m not so sure he should’ve gone on that fishing trip, but he hasn’t missed it in ten years. Maybe the time on the water will do him some good. So, I’ll do what I can to help while he’s gone.”
She moved away from Tucker reluctantly and slid the ladder over to the next section of ceiling trim that needed to painted. “Dad does no advertising, and when I asked him about social media, he muttered about not knowing anything about ‘Facechat or Tweeter.’ The man still uses a flip phone. I’m working with a friend to create a website. I’m setting up social media accounts and designing new menus with some healthier food options.”
Tucker eyed her. “Please tell me you’re keeping Joe’s famous garbage fries.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Ugh, those artery-clogging things should be in the garbage. I’m not changing most of Dad’s food, but I am simplifying the menu, cutting out higher-costing products that aren’t ordered often enough and adding lighter, healthier options. Not everything needs to be swimming in grease. But do you mind if we keep talking while we work? I want to get the rest of this trim painted.”
Tucker snapped his legs together, slammed his arms to his sides, then gave her a tight salute. “Ma’am, yes, ma’am.”
“At ease, Sergeant Sarcasm.”
“That’s Staff Sergeant Sarcasm, ma’am.”
“That’s great! When did you pick up your stripe?”
“During my two weeks of training over the summer—after the Fatigues to Farming fund-raiser that Tori organized. That’s how she and Jake got back together.”
“How do you juggle everything with your family, your job, school, helping on the farm and the National Guard?”
Tucker lifted a shoulder. “Rayne and I wanted to get married after graduation, but Dad required us to have some sort of military service, and the National Guard Reserves allowed me to do that without being away from my family. Plus, I can retire in less than ten years now and draw a secondary income. It’s not always easy, but it works for me.”
“You’re pretty amazing.”
He shook his head. “I’m nobody special. Just trying to keep my head above water while raising my kids the best I can.”
“Well, you’re a great dad, Tucker. Everything else will fall into place.”
He cleared his throat. “Are we going to work or what?”
For the next fifteen minutes, the creak of separating wooden baseboards from the wall and the swishing of Isabella’s brush as it glided over the narrow wood mingled with the mix of country and contemporary Christian music playing from Tucker’s phone.
Every now and then he’d sing along with the music, and Isabella paused her painting to listen to his rich baritone.
Needing a break, Isabella climbed down the ladder and crossed to the breakfast counter, where her notebook lay. She leafed back to the beginning pages, where she’d drawn a map of the restaurant, then she tapped her foot against the chipped black-and-white-tiled floor. “Replacing this dated tile with that laminate wood flooring will a great improvement.”
Tucker stood and rubbed his lower back. “Dated? Don’t you mean retro?”
“If we were reproducing a ’50s-style diner, then it would be perfect, but honestly, that doesn’t feel like Dad’s personality. He wasn’t even alive in the ’50s.”
“Well, I like what you’ve done so far.”
“By priming and painting over that hideous wood paneling with the barn red and using a milky white for the top half, I’m pulling in sort of an Americana feel, especially with the colonial blue for trim work. Since Dad loves the hometown feel of the diner, I want to hang framed and matted photos of different parts of the community—the lake, of course, downtown, the park, your family’s farm if they’ll let me—taken by local photographers.” She turned and faced the front of house service station. “Dad loves to fish and be outside, especially at the lake or in his garden, whenever he can. But with running the restaurant, he doesn’t get to do that often, so I’d like to mount some of his old fishing gear around the pass-through window along with framed photos from his fishing trips.”
Moving toward the empty back wall, Bella waved her hands over the space. “I’d like to highlight our hometown heroes—active-duty military, veterans and community service workers—on this back wall. What do you think?”
Tucker seemed to be taking his time in answering, which didn’t help with the growing pit in Isabella’s stomach. “I think your ideas are great...”
“I hear a ‘but’ coming.”
“Seriously, I think it’s great, but again, I’m just not so sure how you’re going to get everything done in less than a week.”
With a hand on her hip, she glanced at her checklist. “I finished painting the walls yesterday, and I’ll be done with all of the trim work today. I’ll have everything moved out of the way so we can lay the flooring tomorrow. I paid for expedited shipping for the new booths to arrive by Friday, so I can spend a day getting those in place. Then it’s a matter of hanging the pictures, which will be ready by Saturday.”
“Now I know you’re definitely a superhero in disguise.”
Isabella rolled her shoulders and reached for her bottle of water. “Hardly. I make a plan and stick with it until the job is done. This may not be the French bistro I’d love to have someday with lots of light, cute tables, hanging plants, a small bakery and daily specials, but this place makes Dad happy, so for now I will be content. Like I said, I want to show Dad I’m good enough to be a part of this place.”
“Hey, now. I don’t think your dad ever felt you weren’t good enough. In his mind, it’s quite the opposite—he feels you’re destined for bigger and better things.”
“Then why do I still feel less than?”
“Because those are lies in your head getting in the way of who you truly are.”
“He won’t let me help him.” She toyed with the corner of her notebook, creasing the page and smoothing it out. Then she smiled and rested a hand on his arm. “Enough of my pity party. Anyway, thanks, Tuck. I really appreciate this. You have no idea what it means to me.”
He lifted a shoulder. “Hey, I’m just a guy standing in front of a pretty girl and asking her to find the flooring.”
Laughing, she slugged him playfully on the shoulder. “How about I show you where it is and let you be my muscle? I’ve never installed a floor before, but I’ve been watching some YouTube videos.”
“I’ve installed plenty of flooring. Once I get the rest of these baseboards off, then we can clear everything out of the way and snap the boards in place.”
“I know this is off-topic, but I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“What’s up?”
“Spending time on your family’s farm yesterday sparked an idea. Of course, I need to do more research and talk to Dad, but I’d like to consider buying some local meats and produce for the restaurant. It will help boost the economy, support farms such as yours, and I believe our customers will like knowing some of their food products come from our local farming community. There are pros and cons we need to weigh before doing it, but I’m wondering if it’s something we can move toward. You mentioned needing to come up with a project for part of your property to benefit the Fatigues to Farmers project, right?”
“Yes, that was one of the stipulations when Dad divided the property between my brothers and me. Why? What are you thinking?”
“What about a community garden? The veterans and their families could coordinate with Shelby Lake residents and sell the produce at the farmers market and local restaurants, with the proceeds benefitting the program. There will be some licensing requirements, but it could be another facet of the program that could build a bridge with the community.”
“While I like the idea, I’m just not sure where I’ll have the time to oversee it.”
“How about asking my dad?”
“Joe? You think he’d be interested?”
Isabella shrugged. “He’s a veteran who loves gardening and this community. Maybe it will give him another purpose...something to pull him out of this depression. If you talk to him, he may be more receptive.”
He considered her words for a moment, then smiled. He brushed a finger along her jaw. “I don’t know what good it will do, but I’ll do it for you.”
The way he smiled and the warmth in his words curled around Isabella’s heart and nestled in place. If she wasn’t careful, she could find herself falling in love with Tucker Holland. And that would be a disaster. She didn’t know if she could handle losing her heart to him twice and still survive.
“What’s going on in here?”
At the sound of her father’s raised voice, Isabella whirled around and found her dad standing in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room dressed in faded jeans, a worn red-and-blue flannel shirt, and his olive drab fishing vest hanging unzipped.
“Dad, what are you doing here?”
“I live here.”
“I kn
ow, but I thought you were fishing until Saturday.”
“Wasn’t feeling well, so I came home early.”
Oh, Dad.
He took another step into the room and frowned. “You’ve been busy.”
“I wanted to surprise you.”
“I’m surprised, all right.”
The ragged edges of his voice created a knot in her stomach. She’d wanted to surprise him with the makeover, but now that he was back...well, she’d have to try and finish without getting in his way.
* * *
Tucker wasn’t sure what Bella had hoped he could accomplish by talking with her father, but being a man of his word, Tucker had to give it his best shot.
The way Isabella looked at him with those vulnerable eyes, he would’ve agreed to doing almost anything. Being around her was going to get him into trouble if he wasn’t careful.
And if Joe was willing, then this could be the solution Tucker needed to get Jake off his back.
He loved his brother. He did. But, man, he needed some room to just...breathe.
After Tucker had shared Isabella’s idea about the community garden for the veterans enrolling in the Fatigues to Farming program, Jake was all over him trying to make it happen.
However, getting Joe to agree to oversee the project was going to be a long shot at best.
When Tucker had checked on Joe at the hospital, his friend had chewed him out about letting Bella know about the problems with the diner, so he wasn’t high on Joe’s list of favorite people right now.
Tucker rounded the back of the diner to find Joe crouched in his small garden, the afternoon sun beating on his back. “Hey, Joe. What’s going on?”
The older man looked up as he picked a plump red tomato off the vine. “Picking the last of the tomatoes before I put the garden to bed for the winter. You want to crush those, too?”
Tucker sighed and kicked a clump of dirt with the toe of his loafer. “No one’s crushing anything. You should’ve been honest with your daughter from the beginning, then my slipup wouldn’t have been an issue. As for repainting the diner, we’re doing it to help you—to help the business.”