by Syndi Powell
Beckett started to turn and leave, but Russ walked in and spotted him. “But I could use a hand if you’re free.”
Beckett pointed behind him at the door. “Your front door’s unlocked.”
“My son must have forgotten to lock up behind him.” Russ moved past him, locked the door then motioned Beckett to follow him. “Actually it was a relief to see him go. I was getting tired of his constant comments about my storage methods.” He tapped his forehead. “I know where things are, and that’s what matters.”
Beckett followed the older man to a large room filled with sheets of glass, window frames and the detritus of a business being liquidated. He put a hand on a sheet of sky blue glass that had white swirls mixed into it. “Wow, this is amazing.”
Russ turned and gave a nod. “You’ve got a good eye, son. That piece of glass alone is worth about a hundred bucks. Imported German hand-rolled glass. I’ve got a piece of catspaw glass around here that would knock your socks off. It’s a mix of purple and light amber with streaks of green.” He approached Beckett. “I hate to see some of this stuff go, but what am I going to do with it in retirement?”
Beckett admired the passion in Russ’s tone as he spoke about something that was mundane and everyday. “You really like glass.”
“I wouldn’t have spent more than forty years in the glass business if I didn’t.” He thrust a clipboard into Beckett’s hand. “You said you’d help.”
“Yes, sir.”
Russ chuckled. “I knew you were military. Told my Pattie that you had to be. Afghanistan?”
“Iraq.”
Russ whistled and shook his head. “Not an easy place to do a couple tours. How many did you do? I’d say at least two.”
Beckett frowned. “Three. How did you figure?”
“You’ve got that hardened look. Like you’ve seen it all and would prefer to forget more.” The older man looked him up and down. “I saw that look in the mirror for about a dozen years before I accepted it.”
“Accepted what?”
“You can’t forget. And believe me, I tried everything.” Russ glanced behind Beckett. “Can you hand me that folder behind you on the worktable?”
Beckett turned and found a manila folder about four inches thick with papers. He picked it up and handed it to Russ. “You fought in World War II?”
The older man laughed until tears started to leak from the corners of his eyes, clutching the folder to his chest. “I know that I might look older than dirt to you, but that was my father’s war. I saw action in Vietnam.”
“How many tours?”
“Two.”
The two men stared at each other for a moment until Russ nodded. “Enough of that. Let’s get to work.”
They worked in tandem, Russ reciting what to write on the clipboard and Beckett carefully printing it on individual lines. Their flow got interrupted by a landline phone ringing. Russ moved a stack of papers aside to answer it. “Thorpe Glass.” He listened for a moment, then glanced at his watch. “Oh shoot, Pattie. Beckett and I lost track of time. We’ll wrap this up, and I’ll be home in ten.” He glanced up at Beckett and gave a shrug. “I’ll ask him. See you soon, love.”
He hung up the phone. “My Pattie has invited you to join us for dinner. She’s made pork schnitzel and noodles, if you’re interested.”
Beckett’s stomach growled in response. A home-cooked dinner sounded wonderful, but his mood didn’t make him good company. “Maybe another time.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing. Pattie can cook circles around any of those celebrity chefs they show on TV.” Russ took the clipboard from Beckett’s hands. “I sure do appreciate your help. You saved me from about a dozen arguments with my son.”
Beckett gave him a nod. “Thank you, sir.”
“Thank you, son. I’ll see you tomorrow night along with Miss Andromeda?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Just call me Russ.”
Beckett gave a short bob of his head. “Russ.”
He picked up his jacket from where he’d left it and put it on, taking time to zip it up, and thrust his hands into the pockets while Russ finished turning off the lights. When they stepped outside, Beckett waited while the older man locked the inner door then pulled down an iron cage and locked that as well. Russ turned to him. “You look like you could use a good homemade meal, soldier. Are you sure you won’t stop by?”
His resolve wavering, Beckett fingered the car keys in his pocket. It would be better if he got into his truck and drove home. But what was waiting for him there? Nothing but emptiness.
Sensing his uncertainty, Russ put an arm around his shoulders and steered him to his truck. “You’re coming. I’m not taking no for an answer.”
Beckett followed the older man’s SUV to the house, wondering why he’d agreed. But then he told himself it was just dinner. One meal. And then he could go home to his solitude.
Pattie didn’t seem at all surprised to see him since she’d set a place for him at the kitchen table. He washed his hands in the small bathroom off the kitchen before taking his seat.
Conversation flowed during dinner much as it had during dessert the previous Saturday night. Beckett found himself sharing about Rob’s injury. “This will put me behind on my deadline, but there’s no helping it.”
“You won’t hire anyone else?”
Beckett shook his head. “Rob will come back once he’s healed. I owe him that.”
Russ gave a nod. “He was in your platoon, wasn’t he?”
Had Beckett mentioned the connection? He didn’t think he had. “How did you know?”
“You watch out for your men. Then and now.” Russ wiped his mouth with his napkin before continuing, “You were what? Captain?”
“Lieutenant.”
“And that leadership didn’t end when you came home. Even after you left the military. But you wish you could do more.”
Beckett glanced around. “Am I on some kind of show with secret cameras? How do you know all this?”
Pattie reached over and took her husband’s hand that rested on the table. “He thinks he can read people.” She pushed the meat platter closer to him. “Help yourself to seconds, Beckett. And whatever we don’t eat, I’ll send home with you.”
Russ pressed a kiss against his wife’s hand as Beckett put more pork on to his plate. “So, about helping...”
“It sounds easier than it is, or should be. The reality is different.” He lifted his knife from its place beside his plate but didn’t slice into the meat. “Some don’t want to be helped. And others are tired of taking orders from me. Fair enough. I had this idea of us all working together renovating houses, but it’s only me and Rob.”
“And by holding his job for him, you want to reward that loyalty.”
“Yes, sir.”
Russ paused, then broke into a broad smile. “You’re a good man, Beckett. But don’t be a foolish one.” When Beckett started to protest, Russ held up a hand. “Listen, building a business is hard enough without doing it alone. You can’t finish this house by yourself. Hire subcontractors. Temp help. And when Rob is healed, put him back to work.”
Beckett knew he was right. “Thank you for the advice, sir.”
Russ turned to Pattie. “I may be retired, but I still got it, don’t I?” He winked at her, and she shook her head before joining in their laughter.
* * *
AFTER ANOTHER FRUITLESS job interview for the position of an elementary school art teacher, Andie decided to shake off the blues by spending time in her alma mater’s library researching the stained glass window. The artist might not have signed his or her name to it, but she knew that every artist had their own unique stamp that they put on their work. She just had to figure out what that was for the window.
Andie put several search words into the computer and wa
ited to see what came up. The artist had chosen a nautical theme. The lighthouse. The sailboat. Even the rays of light shining from the lighthouse could be a clue to the artist’s identity. Unfortunately, after about an hour of unrewarded searching, she left the library no closer to the truth than she had been when she’d started. She’d have to explore a different avenue.
Once she got home, Andie made a quick sandwich before changing out of her work clothes and into a sweatshirt and jeans. She also found a hair tie and put her hair up into a messy bun. Experience had taught her that art restoration could be untidy work. Before leaving the bathroom, she checked her makeup in the mirror, which caught her up short. What did it matter how her face looked when she had purposely dressed down? Was she really that interested in Beckett? While her head said no, her heart whispered, Yes, please.
Shaking her head, she turned out the light and retrieved her purse and winter coat before leaving her apartment. She drove to the Thorpe house wondering if Beckett had already arrived. His refusal to get a drink with her after their lesson last Saturday still smarted. While he said it wasn’t about her, she couldn’t help feeling that maybe it was. Maybe she wasn’t his type. Or she was too pushy. Or...
When Mrs. Thorpe welcomed and ushered her inside, she asked, “Can I get you a mug of tea, dear? Maybe an Earl Grey this time?”
“That would be lovely. Thank you, Mrs. Thorpe.”
The woman waved off the formal name. “It’s Pattie. Now, give me your coat and I’ll bring the tea down in a moment. Russ is waiting for you downstairs.”
Andie descended the stairs to find Russ checking the pieces that they had already removed from the window. He looked up at her approach. “Andromeda, I figured it was you.”
“When are you going to start calling me Andie?”
“A name like Andromeda deserves to be said and often. It’s not one you hear frequently.”
She shrugged. “My mother was reading a lot of Greek mythology when Cassandra and I were born.”
“Ah, Cassandra, the prophetess who was never believed.”
“And Andromeda is offered as a virgin sacrifice to a monster.” Andie gave a shudder as she remembered the first time her mother had read that particular story to her. Why couldn’t she have been named something more urbane. Alice perhaps? But then she’d have to compete with the heroine of Wonderland.
“Yes, but she was saved by a dashing hero before her demise, wasn’t she?”
Andie gave a shrug. “I don’t need to be saved by anybody.”
“We all need saving, kiddo. Some more than others.” He pointed to the tub. “I had a little time last night to work on the window, but as you can see we still have a ways to go.”
Andie ran a hand along the surface of the window under water. “That’s not a problem, is it?”
“I’m enjoying teaching you what it takes to restore a window. It’s like my knowledge won’t die with me.”
“Don’t talk like that.” He raised an eyebrow at her tone which had come out harsher than she had intended. “I mean, you’re not dying at the moment, are you?”
“We’re all dying.”
“When did you become so fatalistic?”
He gave a shrug. “Facing retirement will do that to you. Too much time thinking about what lies ahead of these empty years.”
“Empty.” She shook her head. “My guess is that Mrs. Thorpe has already planned out a road trip or two for you to take once the weather warms up. Maybe that cruise you promised to take her on?”
“She told you about that, huh?” He gave a face as if the idea was worse than death. “I just don’t see how being confined on a boat is going to help me relax. I’m more likely to be calculating to see if there are enough life jackets or boats for all the passengers.”
“It’s not likely that you’ll hit an iceberg in the Caribbean waters.”
“Still, one can’t be too careful. Besides, I need more than the allure of buffets and reading books by the pool to entice me.”
The trudge of heavy boots on the basement stairs heralded Beckett’s arrival. He handed a mug of hot tea to Andie. “Mrs. Thorpe asked me to give this to you.”
She took the mug and thanked him before putting her hands around the warm ceramic to thaw them. The outdoor temperatures had turned frigid, leaving the basement cooler than their last visit.
Russ clapped his hands together. “Okay, kids. So we’re going to continue taking the window apart and placing the glass pieces on our layout pattern. Any questions?”
Having none, they set to work side by side at the tub. Andie was aware of every movement that Beckett made as he cut the old lead from a piece of glass and removed the glass from the water to dry and place on the pattern. Watching his large, sturdy fingers work the knife, she found it difficult to keep her focus on the piece of glass she was supposed to detach from the window. Russ cleared his throat, and she looked up to find him smirking at her. Abashed at having been caught watching Beckett, she returned to her task.
“Do you think we’ll finish taking it apart tonight?” Beckett asked.
Russ patted him on the shoulders. “Highly unlikely, but I like your ambition, son.”
Why Beckett’s words gave Andie assurance was beyond her. She’d met the man less than a week ago, but already he entered her thoughts at various times of her day. She’d even dreamed of him the night before. She was hardly man hungry, but her appetite had wakened for this particular one. A part of her told her that her attraction would fade over time while another, stronger part wanted something more lasting. This part of her wanted the work on the window to take months rather than the weeks that it would require.
She removed another piece of glass and dried it off on the towel next to the pattern. One more piece of about a hundred more to go. The artist had used different sizes of glass to create the window’s sense of movement in the waves and light. She pressed a fingertip to one piece and sighed.
Beckett placed a piece next to the one she had just laid. “It’s a lot of time and energy, but I think it will be worth it. Don’t you?”
She looked up from the glass into his piercing blue eyes. Wordless, she nodded.
He gave a shrug. “But then I guess anything worth keeping takes a lot of time and energy.”
“Right.”
He smiled at her, then returned to the tub. Closing her eyes, she reminded herself that she was here to work on a window. Not to get a date. Or pine after a man who wasn’t interested in her.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE LINE TO get into the visiting room of the prison stretched longer than usual that Saturday morning. Andie noticed Cassie kept glancing around them and then at her watch. “We won’t get very long to see Daddy if we want to make it to the shower on time,” her sister said.
Andie pulled on the lapels of her coat to tug them closer for warmth. “Probably not. Should we try next week?”
“No. It has to be now. With the bridal shower today and everything else I need to do, I don’t know how many more chances I’ll get to come here before the wedding.” Cassie checked her watch once again. “I thought they limited our visits to thirty minutes. What’s taking so long?”
“Why are you so nervous? It’s just Daddy.” He’d torn their lives apart last year when he’d fled from the police only to turn himself in later. Her family had been paying back what he’d stolen ever since. If anyone should be nervous, it should be him to see them. Cassie skimmed her gaze over Andie before returning it to the line ahead of them. “I’m going to tell him about my dancing with the Buttucci brothers at my wedding. He’s not going to like it.”
“Then why tell him? It’s not like he can change any of this.”
Cassie eyed her before shifting back to the line. “Still trying to get on his good side, Andromeda? I thought you’d gotten over that.”
“I don’t have anything
to get over.” Even she knew that was a lie as she said the words.
Her sister guffawed, shaking her head. “Of course, you don’t. You’ve been running after his approval for so long that you don’t even recognize it anymore.”
“Just because you’re his favorite doesn’t mean you haven’t been chasing after the same just as much.”
Andie tried to brush off the conversation, but her sister’s words had found their mark. An ache in her chest spread as they inched farther ahead in line. Was it too much to hope that her father would one day say that he was proud of her? Even that he loved her? Cassie was right. She’d been pursuing his approval for years, but her efforts had turned out to be futile.
When they reached the head of the line and walked into the visiting room, Andie no longer wanted to see her father. Why should his approval hold her hostage? His prison sentence should have negated any hold he had on her.
And yet when he entered the room in an orange jumpsuit, her heart thudded in expectation. Maybe today he would notice her.
He approached the metal table where she and her sister sat on one side, and pulled out the chair on the other, the legs scraping on the concrete floor. Lowering himself into the seat, he gave a wince. “Are you okay, Daddy?” she asked.
Andie started to reach out, but a guard hit the table with his baton. “No touching.”
Reprimanded, she returned her hands to her lap. Her father shook his head. “I’m fine. The lumpy mattress doesn’t help my bad back, let me tell you. Why are you both here?” He turned to look behind them. “Is your mother here too?” Cassie shook her head, and his gaze rested on the table. “Didn’t think she would be.”
“Maybe if you hadn’t run out on us last year.”
The words were out of Andie’s mouth before she could stop them. Cassie turned to her, eyebrows raised. “What Andie means is—”