Holden's Heart

by Jayna Morrow

  “What are you doing with those? There is some reason to how they are laid out.”

  Her artistic brain organized in a borderline chaotic manner, the opposite of her work brain. The left brain’s letters, numbers, and everything tucked away versus the right brain’s pictures, colors, and everything on display.

  “I’m not messing anything up.” He plopped down on the couch and laid three sketches across their laps. “These three look like the same building.”

  “That’s the Nichols Building downtown. There’s two more in the series.” She gathered the other two and added them to the front of the line. “It used to be called the Pioneer Building. Sweet Home residents used it as a courthouse and held other government functions there. My father drew this from an old photograph that was taken when the building was brand new. This second one shows the building almost at the point of collapse on its 100th anniversary. A private investor, Mr. Edward Nichols, purchased it and renovated it from top to bottom. You can see it finished in the third sketch.” She picked up two and switched their places. “Now they’re in order. I drew the last two. This one shows changes made by Edward Nichols’ son, Thaddeus Lance Nichols. And the last one is how it currently stands, under the ownership of Thaddeus Nichols’ son, Lance Edward Nichols.”

  “The progression of this historic building over time is amazing.”

  “Every building and most structures in Sweet Home.” Arm outstretched, she swept across the mass of sketches that carpeted her living room floor.

  “It’s an illustrated history of Sweet Home, Texas.” His eyes widened in disbelief.

  She didn’t understand why he was so impressed. She and her dad had shared the gift as a hobby, but he was acting like van Gogh’s collection lay at his feet. She was still processing his reaction when he spoke again.

  “Irelynn—” He stacked the sketches and put them back on the floor. “What do you plan to do with these?”

  Stupefied once again, she blinked. “My plan?” She pulled her bottom lip against her teeth. “I don’t have a plan. I haven’t even looked at them in years.”

  Holden seemed to be working out something. No doubt he’d try to convince her to open a gallery and launch her art career. And he’d have dozens of ideas on how to manage it all, too. He leaned against the back of the couch, his arms resting at his sides. “I think you should put them in a book about Sweet Home.”

  A book?

  “I’ll play along. Who will write the history? I’m no writer. Or were you thinking it would be a book of illustrations?”

  “My brother, Garrett, is a writer. I bet he’d do it. Should I ask him?”

  “No.”

  He tensed, deflated. “It’s a shame, Sweet Home is an historic town, and there are a lot of people interested in the history of small towns.”

  “I don’t think there would be anything exceptional to offer.”

  “I don’t know of any history books with illustrations done by local artists over a period of time. That’s unique.”

  “If I said I’d think about it, would you drop the subject?”

  “Maybe for a while, but I can’t promise I’ll never bring it up again.”

  “Besides, you don’t just put together a book. Garrett’s publishing journey has been rough. Last thing I heard, he still hadn’t made it yet.”

  “That’s because he’s a hard head and wants to go about it the old-fashioned way.” He grinned. “With enough money and friends in the right places, there are ways to get around that.”

  “Wouldn’t that be cheating?”

  “Of course not. It’s business. The world of publishing is different now.”

  “Since when did you become an expert on publishing?”

  “Not me, but I got a buddy in publishing. I wanted to put Garrett in touch with him, but he insisted on doing it on his own.”

  “A noble decision.” She nodded. His muscles relaxed, one arm now slung over the back of her couch. “Why the sudden interest in Sweet Home? I mean, you’ve been back here a handful of times, and even then it was because you had to, not because you wanted to.”

  “For someone who doesn’t know me, you seem to know an awful lot about me.”

  Her turn to grin. “I could say the same about you.” The sound of her alarm clock made her jump. “Time to get up,” she joked. She hurried to her bedroom area and switched off the alarm. “And time for you to answer my question.”

  “I care about Sweet Home, Irelynn. It’s complicated.”

  She opened her mouth, but the Good Lord took control of her tongue. She took another course. “I’ve shared a lot with you, Holden.”

  “I know you have, but it’s much harder for me. Trust me. My background is complicated.”

  “You are something else, Holden Hearth.”

  “Give me some time. I came here to confront my past.” The alarm clock chimed again. “Didn’t you shut it off?”

  “I thought I did.” This time, she unplugged it from the wall.

  When she returned, Holden had one hand on the doorknob. He was leaving. Once again, escaping her questions.

  “See you at work. I gotta run.”

  “Literally.” She laughed at her own joke, but the situation wasn’t funny. Holden liked to complain about Emerson avoiding her, but who was doing the avoiding now?

  11

  “Aren’t you getting enough sleep, Irelynn?”

  She lifted her head off her desk. Emerson filled the doorway, dressed in a business suit that cost more than all the clothes in her closet. He held a bouquet of roses. There were moments full of surprise and spontaneity that lifted the heart. This was one. A first for Emerson. He was too practical for flowers and cards and candy, but she sure wasn’t complaining.

  Of course, his appearance meant one thing. Even in her sleep-deprived state, she knew he was here to cancel. Again. The only question was how she should respond this time. Maybe she should continue her path of patience. After all, he was still young and trying to grow his business. Maybe she should let him have it and end it once and for all. She deserved a little time now and then. Or maybe she should hear him out. She could be jumping to conclusions. She rose to greet him, but an enormous yawn escaped. Embarrassed, she covered her mouth. Not the warm welcome he’d imagined, she was sure. “I had a rough night.” She managed a smile and crossed the room.

  He welcomed her in a one-arm hug, then handed her the flowers.

  “I’m surprised to see you here this morning. I wasn’t expecting you until lunch. What brings you to my office?”

  He was about to answer when a movement behind him caught her attention. Holden appeared in the doorway and slipped through in a quick movement, ready for action.

  “Is everything OK?” He straightened to his full height. “You must be Emerson. Irelynn’s told me a great deal about you.”

  Her throat felt as tight as their handshake. A wave of self-consciousness engulfed her as the two men sized each other up. She escaped for a moment and set the roses down on her desk.

  “Holden Hearth.” Emerson, confident as always, wasn’t the slightest bit affected by Holden’s presence or his concern for Irelynn. He slipped off his suit jacket and hung it over the back of a nearby chair, then sat down and smiled. “Emerson Graves.” He nodded stiffly. “I appreciate you keeping Irelynn company. I have been swamped, but business is excellent.”

  Irelynn took a seat next to Emerson. “That's wonderful.”

  “I have so much to tell you,” he began. He gave Holden a look as if politely asking him to leave. Of course, Holden held his position. “I’ll save that for our dinner.”

  “I thought y’all were going to lunch?” Holden interrupted. He was baiting Emerson. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business. Continue.”

  Tiny jolts of annoyance emanated from Emerson as, lips twisting slightly, his gaze trailed to Holden.

  Holden sank back into the couch and made himself comfortable in her space.

  Not surprising to he
r, knowing the amount of time he’d spent in this room going over reports, getting details on what needed to be done around the dairy each day, and stopping by as often as possible, if for no other reason than to bother her. She’d known Holden only days, compared to the months she’d known Emerson. Minute for minute, Holden had both quality and quantity on his side. So much time she’d spent reliving the moments with each man. A humbling experience, as she knew more about one man than the other. His quirks, his moods, and the strange way his brain operated.

  Holden sat with one foot crossed over the other knee and one eyebrow lifted a little higher than the other. A teasing grin plastered across his face, illustrating how happy he was with himself. And the fact that he was so very pleased...well, classic Holden.

  Emerson didn’t look amused with classic Holden right now. But if he didn’t want to spend time with her, then someone else would. Nothing was gratifying or humorous about the situation. In fact, it was quite painful. Emerson was the one who should be vying for her attention, but he wasn’t. Emerson felt no sense of connection to her. There were no sparks, no desire, no longing. No need to rush to her side at the end of the day. Eagerness to spend time together hadn’t settled in. There were no thoughts of her that prompted a sweet text or call. To him, she was an afterthought, an item to be scheduled, and an event that could be re-scheduled without much effort. Even more profound than that was his perception that she was lucky to have his attention. When he found she was spending time with another man, he hadn’t even batted an eye and the realization hurt her deeply.

  “Have you changed your office?” he asked. His gaze flitted and landed on the stacks of clutter and rows of sticky notes along most surfaces. “I remember it being a bit more...organized.”

  “Organized?”

  “It is a bit chaotic at the moment.” He smiled. “That’s not like you.”

  “I’ve been running the dairy on my own while Gabriel’s on vacation.” What did he know about her? He should see her living room right now. “Holden has been a tremendous help, but I don’t get to stay in my office all day. It doesn’t take long for the work to pile up.”

  Of course, Emerson would already know that if he’d kept their dinner plans.

  “What about the dairy manager? Rodney...Roger?”

  A twinge of anger brought heat to her cheeks. Without making eye contact with Holden, she retrieved her white lab coat from the other end of the couch. “His name is Randy Overman.”

  “You’ve never met Randy?” Holden let his foot drop to the floor and leaned forward. “He’s worked here for ages. He’s out with pneumonia.”

  “Pneumonia? You haven’t been exposed, have you?” Emerson placed a hand on her knee.

  His sudden show of concern warmed her a little. She shook her head, her lips turning up.

  “Good. I can’t afford to get sick right now.” He put on a smile to match hers.

  The anger returned with a vengeance. She fought the urge to run away and hide somewhere. But then he’d know how much he’d hurt her, and she didn’t want that. She couldn’t hide anything from Holden.

  The corner of Holden’s lip curled, and he wrung his hands.

  She pulled the lab coat tight and willed him not to speak. She hated being in the middle of one man who had no desire to understand her and one man who understood her too well, even though she’d rather he didn’t.

  “Why did you come by this morning, Emerson?”

  He gave Holden another go-away look.

  Holden leaned forward and rested his arms on his legs.

  Emerson shook his head, shifted his chair closer to her. “I know I’ve been putting you off lately, but I’ve had a lot going on at work. As much as I hate to do this, I need to re-schedule our lunch. I managed to get a lunch meeting with Lance Nichols.”

  “Lance Nichols?” Holden asked. He made a terrible wallflower.

  Emerson waited a full minute before answering as if contemplating whether he should share information with Holden. “Lance Nichols is the richest man in Sweet Home, the richest man in the county, even.”

  “Wrong on both counts, but he ain’t hurting. He’s considered a mover and shaker, so congratulations to you on getting a lunch meeting. I’m sure you’ll find him to be a fascinating man.”

  “I’ll have you know, I’ve done my research.”

  Irelynn braced for the showdown.

  Emerson’s slitted eyes could melt ice.

  Holden’s could cut through steel, but his serious flash fell away, and he grinned and nodded. Holden’s idea of a white flag.

  “This lunch could very well prove to be the pivotal moment of my career. Lance Nichols is a busy man, and it’s practically taken an act of Congress to get a meeting. Not just anyone can call him up and make plans with him.” The sound of Holden playing with his cell phone distracted Emerson from his speech. Annoyed, he shook his head. “It goes to show that I’m building my reputation and my career path is lining out.”

  Loud ringing caused her to jump.

  Holden held his cell in the palm of his hand and had it set to speaker.

  “Do you mind?” Frustration marred Emerson’s handsome face. He’d reached his limit with Holden. The other line clicked, and a man’s voice answered.

  “Lance, old buddy. How are ya?”

  “Holden Hearth, of all people. I’m good, man, great even. Where in the world are you calling from this time?”

  “Someplace very exotic. You’d never guess in a million years, so I’ll tell you. I’m vacationing in Sweet Home, Texas.”

  Emerson’s mouth dropped open. He stared at Holden’s cell phone as if it were a sparkling crown jewel.

  Irelynn could imagine the level of shock racing through Emerson’s veins, but his incredulous stare gave her a pretty good idea.

  “Sweet Home? You mean our hometown of Sweet Home?” Lance’ voice came through again.

  “The very one.”

  “Well, ain’t that something? I arrived this morning. I still own a building and some property here. I got a quick lunch meeting today and several other meetings set up for this afternoon, but we need to get together. Business and personal. You’re a hard man to track down, so we need to take advantage while we can.”

  “Yeah, it isn’t often we’re on the same continent. I got something in the works with Olen.”

  “Olen, as in Olen Squared?”

  “Yup, the One and Olen.”

  “O2 Olen, my my my. Text me the plan. I’ll cancel or rearrange whatever. I can’t miss the opportunity to see you and Olly Olly Ossenfuss.” Lance made a strange noise that resembled laughing. “Gosh, I’ll never be able to keep my mind focused during meetings today. Maybe I should go ahead and re-schedule everything?”

  Emerson sat up straight.

  Holden held his fate in his hands. “Nah, keep your appointments.” He winked at Emerson. “I’ve got a lot to do today anyway. And I haven’t finalized plans with Olen. I’ll let you know as soon as I do.”

  “Sounds good, man. Later.”

  “Later.” He smiled and hung up the phone. “Don’t give me that look. You’ve still got your lunch appointment.”

  Emerson shrugged, showing his defeat. “Yes, but now his mind will be on other things.”

  “I think if something is important,”—he let his gaze slip from Emerson to Irelynn—“There’s nothing that can draw your attention away.”

  He wasn’t referring to business meetings anymore. Irelynn wanted very much to ask Emerson why, if she was so important to him, he kept putting his career first. But the words stuck in the back of her throat.

  “I must get going. I still have some paperwork to complete before the meeting.” Emerson was up and to the door, with one foot out of it, in a flash. “I want to have dinner with you, Irelynn. I hope you still have some patience for me. I’m building a lifestyle.” There could be more to his abrupt statement, but he left it at that. “I’ll give you a call once I know more about how my schedule will play
out over the next few days.”

  “OK.”

  Holden shook his head.

  The full strength of his disappointment pressed down on Irelynn’s shoulders. Holden wanted her to tell Emerson not to worry about calling her. He wanted her to end things. Still, she wasn’t sure if that was best. When Emerson said, ‘I’m building a lifestyle,’ a part of her finished it with, “for us, so that we can live happily ever after.” She fell for every word.

  Silence filled the office for several minutes after he left.

  “Good ole Emerson.” Holden broke the silence. “Think he’ll follow through this time?”

  “I’m not sure anymore.” Her doubts returned. “I don’t think he intends to hurt me, but he does.”

  “What makes him such a busy man? There are few professions worthy of face time with Lance Nichols.”

  She let out a shaky breath. “He’s a financial planner. Stocks, bonds, mutual funds...”

  “He must be going the independent route. If he was with a firm, he wouldn’t have to work so hard for clients.”

  “He was with a firm in Bishop, but he opened his own here in Sweet Home a few months back. There’s a lot of new money moving into town. But the way to get the new money is to first secure the old money.” She buttoned up her lab coat wanting warmth. And sleep. She tried not to think about her soft, warm bed at home. She didn’t know how she’d make it through the day after her sleepless night.

  “Old money rarely budges.”

  “What are you saying?”

  He shrugged and clicked the toes of his dirty boots together. Did he know something that he’d conveniently not told Emerson? He didn’t offer any more information.

  “I may be a fool for allowing Emerson too much freedom, but this is my life and I’ll live it as I see fit. I don’t need you pointing out my mistakes either. I am already aware of them. At the end of the week, you’ll be back in Dallas in your world, and it won’t make a difference anyway.” Her urge to give Emerson a piece of her mind had penetrated Holden’s ears instead. She was afraid to meet his gaze and see hurt there. Or that goofy smile, which was a possibility, knowing Holden.