by Myra Johnson
He waved shyly. “Ben gave me the day off to get started on the house.” Among other reasons. “Passed your shop and thought I’d stop in.”
“Oh. Would you like to look around? We carry all sorts of decorative items for the home, and you might find something—”
“Honey,” Wanda interrupted with a knowing smirk, “I strongly suspect this handsome fella has something besides shopping in mind.”
A blush to match her fiery-red hair crept up her cheeks, and Kent hoped his arrival wasn’t getting Erin in trouble with her boss. He glanced around at the myriad gifts and handcrafted items displayed throughout the crowded shop. “Maybe another time,” he said. “That pretty basket you made for me will do just fine for now.”
Wanda looked up with interest. “Erin, are you a basket maker?”
“It’s just a hobby.” With a self-conscious smile, she turned away to shift a ceramic vase a fraction to the right.
Kent shook his head. “She’s being modest. I’ve seen some of her stuff, and it’s good. She’s real creative with the designs, too.”
Wanda pinned her thoughtful gaze on Erin. “Bring me some samples when you come in tomorrow. If they’re as good as this young man says, I’ll consider a consignment deal with you.”
Kent couldn’t tell from Erin’s tight-lipped smile whether she was grateful for the opportunity or annoyed with him for butting in. Maybe both? A customer’s arrival meant he’d have to wait for his answer. He just hoped his interference wouldn’t cost him his interior decorator.
Chapter Seven
Ten minutes after Erin got home from work, Kent showed up at her front door. “I thought you went home to start painting.”
“I did, but...” Hat held in front of his chest, he cast her a boyish smile. “I had to make sure you weren’t mad at me.”
“I should be. That’s all Wanda could talk about after you left.” She crossed her arms. “I told you, my baskets are like therapy. I’ve never seriously considered selling them.”
“But it doesn’t mean you couldn’t.” His expression pleading, Kent grasped one of her elbows. When she flinched, he immediately let go, then continued more gently, “You could use the money toward starting your own interior design business. You said that’s what you’d studied for in college.”
His logic made a crazy kind of sense—but even so, was she anywhere near ready to venture into business for herself? Fingers to her temple, she swiveled away. “I need to think about this.”
“I get it. No pressure.” Kent sidled toward the entryway. “So I’m gonna head back home and—”
“Would you help me pick out some baskets?”
He turned with a surprised smile. “To show Wanda? Be glad to.”
Before she could talk herself out of it, she hurried to her workroom closet and brought out a large cardboard box containing some of her earlier basket creations. Strewing them across the worktable, she scrutinized each one.
Kent picked up a midsize sea grass basket with matching lid, only to set it down and snatch up two smaller baskets made from reeds. “There must be a dozen or more here. And you’ve had these sitting in your closet all this time? That’s a crime, Erin. Someone could have been enjoying them.”
His words stabbed her heart as she recalled Pastor Terry’s message two Sundays ago about the servant who’d buried his talent in the ground. Though she sometimes gave her baskets as gifts, these she’d hoarded like private treasures, not unlike the rich man in another of Jesus’s parables who took selfish pride in building bigger barns in which to store his grain. Had basketry become more of an avoidance method than the therapy she claimed it was? And if so, what did that really say about her faith?
Hands trembling, she sniffed back a tear and began packing all the baskets in the box.
“Erin, what are you doing?” Kent blocked the box with his arm. “If it’s what I said—”
“It’s exactly what you said.” Erin firmed her chin. “But you’re right and it’s okay. Let’s take the whole box over to Wanda’s right now and let her decide if any of these are worth selling.”
Grinning, Kent began handing her baskets to repack. When they finished, she glanced up meekly. “If you’ll carry this one out to your pickup, I have another boxful in the closet.”
His knowing look said he wasn’t surprised, but he kindly said nothing. Erin retrieved the second box, then detoured to the kitchen to grab her purse and house keys. Catching up with Kent outside, she waited while he secured both boxes in the pickup bed. Shortly, they were on their way downtown.
“Didn’t waste any time, did you?” Wanda bestowed a vibrant smile upon Erin. “Let’s see what you brought. We can use the table behind the register.”
Kent set down the box and peeled back the flaps. When he handed Wanda the top two baskets, Erin could hardly breathe as she watched the shop owner examine each one.
“Fine craftsmanship, and the artistic touches are stunning.” Wanda set those baskets aside and reached into the box for another, then cast Erin a disbelieving frown. “I could shake you silly for not telling me about these the day I hired you.”
Erin was already shaking plenty on her own. “H-how much do you think they’d sell for?”
“I’d need to confirm with a shop owner in Austin who knows more about baskets than I do, but offhand I’d say this larger one with the lid might go for fifty dollars or more.”
“People would actually pay that much?”
Laughter exploded from Wanda’s throat. “Honey, did you just fall off a turnip truck? Of course they would!” She peered deeper into the box. “Why, I’d estimate you have at least five hundred dollars’ worth of basketry right here.”
Gripping a chair back to brace herself, Erin hoped she wouldn’t hyperventilate.
“We’ve got another box in my truck,” she heard Kent say over the ringing in her ears.
“Well, bring ’em on in.” Wanda was already setting the baskets out on the table. “We need to make an inventory list and take some pictures I can send my Austin colleague. I’ll draw up a consignment contract, and once she gets back to me with pricing suggestions, we’ll be set to go.”
“Erin?” Kent lightly touched her shoulder. “You look like you need to sit down.”
“Maybe I’d better.” A stunned laugh bubbled through her chest as Kent helped her into a chair.
While Kent went out to his truck, Wanda began snapping photos with her cell phone. Between shots, she made notes as Erin described the materials and techniques she’d used to make each basket. Erin barely heard the door chime signaling Kent’s return.
“Excuse me, but you’ve got customers,” Kent told Wanda as he plopped the second box on the floor beside the table.
Wanda laid aside her phone. Beaming a smile, she strode around the counter. “Help you, ladies?”
Glancing toward the door, Erin recognized Sue Ellen Jamison and Janice Mussell, two women Marie Peterson had introduced her to at Bible study last Sunday. She tuned out their conversation and welcomed a few minutes to wrap her head around this promising new development.
Kent pulled out another chair and sat facing her. “You okay?”
“That’s debatable.”
A crooked grin creased his face. “What did I tell you, Erin? You’ve got an amazing talent.”
Before she could respond, Wanda bustled over. “Honey, I know we haven’t settled on terms yet, but do you mind if I show these ladies a few of your baskets?”
“Erin, you made these yourself?” Sue Ellen admired a small twig basket similar to the one Erin had designed for Avery’s birthday. “Why, I just have to have this one for my granddaughter. How much is it?”
“You can see it’s one of a kind.” Wanda offered a persuasive smile. “And just look at the intricate design. You’d pay $70 or more for something like this in the city. But our price toda
y is just $49.95.”
Sue Ellen insisted she had to have the basket and whipped out her charge card. Erin struggled to hide her shock while Wanda rang up the purchase and wrapped the little basket in glittery tissue paper. When the ladies left the shop twenty minutes later, three of Erin’s baskets left with them, each one for an amount that left Erin speechless and Kent beaming like he’d pulled off the coup of the century—which, in Erin’s opinion, he certainly had.
“Alrighty now.” Notebook in hand, Wanda pushed baskets aside and plopped into a chair on the other side of the table. “Let’s get down to business on that consignment agreement.”
* * *
Driving Erin home following their meeting with Wanda, Kent marveled at the change in her confidence level. He could only laugh to himself as she bubbled over with ideas. “Maybe my one-of-a-kind baskets could become the cornerstone of my own interior design business. I could call it Weaving Hearts and Homes or The Designer’s Basket or—”
When he parked in her driveway, she turned to him with a panicked stare. “Oh, Kent, how selfish of me. I promised to help you with your house, and now all I can talk about are my own plans.”
He shifted to reach for her hand, but the soft pressure of her fingertips almost made him forget what he meant to say. “Doing what makes you happy and ensuring a secure future for you and Avery are the only things that matter.”
Erin offered a shivery smile, her blue eyes filling before she surprised Kent with a spontaneous hug. “How will I ever thank you for believing in me?”
For a split second, he sat frozen, unsure what to do with his hands. Before he could figure it out, Erin shrank back, her stunned gasp mirroring Kent’s confusion. Yeah, it was unbelievable, all right. Unbelievable how he suddenly wanted to kiss this woman.
“I should go,” he mumbled with a nervous laugh. “Need to get back to scraping and prepping.”
“Right.” Erin reached for the door handle. Another of those endearing coral blushes rose from her collar to her cheeks. “I’ll look again at those paint samples and start on some interior design ideas.”
Driving away, he suspected she’d give his home renovation project way more time and attention than she could spare, and in a crazy way, it made him happy. His mom would be all over his case, though. How many times had she pleaded with him to let her spruce up his place a bit? And how many times had he refused, saying he liked things plain and simple?
Well, there was nothing plain about Erin Dearborn. And nothing simple about the effect she had on him.
And the fact that he was good with that? Staggering.
* * *
Once Kent got started on the exterior repairs and painting prep, it hadn’t taken him long to decide he could use help. Elijah was all too glad for the extra work and even brought along a couple of buddies. At the rate they were going, Kent expected to start painting by the weekend.
On Saturday morning, as he hauled out paint, rollers and brushes to get set up for his crew, Erin’s car turned into the driveway. He set a five-gallon paint bucket down with a thud and massaged his shoulder on his way to greet her.
“Wow.” Her gaze swept the side of the house, which now showed more weathered gray siding than old flaking paint. “You’ve been working hard.”
“Can’t take all the credit. I’ve had good helpers.” Feeling grubby next to Erin’s lacy white cotton blouse and dark-wash jeans, he dusted his hands against his pant legs. He hadn’t even bothered to shave this morning.
Erin opened the back door for Avery. As the little girl climbed out, Erin went around to the trunk. “I brought some ideas to show you. Can you spare a few minutes?”
“Sure.” Kent’s brows shot up at the sight of the large burlap-covered board Erin lifted out. She’d used ribbon to divide the board into six areas representing each room of his house, each one containing sketches, magazine clippings and color swatches. He breathed out an appreciative whistle. “Talk about working hard.”
“I helped,” Avery said. “Mommy let me cut out pictures.”
“And you did a great job.” The board dwarfed Erin, so Kent offered to carry it. “Let’s take this inside and y’all can tell me all about it.”
Showing them to the living room, Kent propped the board in front of the TV and stepped back, then had to nudge Skip out of the way. “No dog slobber allowed, fella.”
Erin moved next to the board. “Keep in mind these are only suggestions.” A hint of nervousness tinged her voice. “If there’s anything you don’t like, please tell me.”
“Like I’d have a clue.” Kent grinned and rolled his eyes.
Her shoulders heaved with a steadying breath. “Since Mrs. Thompson didn’t provide photos of the inside, I did a little research into the era when your house was built and imagined how it might have looked with a woman’s touch.”
Something that was sadly lacking, Kent had to admit. Since Skip and Avery had already claimed the easy chair like best buds, he backed up to sit on the sofa while Erin described her selections for each room. She was using words like chintz and finial and other terms that sounded like a foreign language to him, so he mostly smiled and nodded. Little as he understood about interior decorating, he was happy just listening to Erin’s sweet voice, while his mind drifted to scenarios he had no business imagining.
Like coming in from ranch work to find her in the kitchen making supper for him and Avery.
Like cuddling with her on the sofa in the evenings while they watched a romantic movie on TV.
Like wishing he could walk into one of those rooms she was describing and find her there every day making her baskets.
“Kent? Did you hear me?”
He mentally shook himself and tried to recall the last thing Erin had said. “Uh, yeah. White trim all around would look real pretty.”
Her smirk said she’d caught him woolgathering. Good thing she couldn’t read his mind. “I think we should do the downstairs first, don’t you?”
“Sounds good. Just give me a few days to get the outside painting done.” Kent came closer to admire each of the room designs Erin had put together. It made him a little sad to think he’d be the only one living here to enjoy the finished product—and more than a little edgy to imagine half of Juniper Bluff trooping through these rooms during the sesquicentennial tour.
The rattle and groan of Elijah’s ancient Honda hatchback returned him to the present. “There’s my painting crew. Guess I’d better get to work.”
“We’ll get out of your way, then.” Erin motioned for Avery, who grumbled about having to say goodbye to Skip.
Kent hefted the idea board and followed them out to Erin’s car. She popped the trunk and he carefully laid the board inside. “Meant to ask,” he said. “How are basket sales going?”
Erin beamed. “We sold six more since Tuesday. And Wanda’s taken a couple of special orders on her website. I’ve already been working on those.”
“That’s great. Anytime you need materials...”
“Actually, would you mind if I snooped around your pastures again one day soon?”
Kent narrowed one eye and tried to look stern. “Only with an escort.” Then he smiled. “I’m around all day tomorrow if you and Avery want to come out. We could take the horses on a trail ride.”
Avery danced a jig. “Can we, Mom?”
“No, honey. Tomorrow’s Easter, remember? Uncle Greg is coming tonight so he can go to church with us in the morning.” Looking up at Kent, she pulled her lower lip between her teeth. “If you don’t have other plans, we’d love for you to join us. Christina Austin says Easter worship at Shepherd of the Hills is a glorious service.”
Watching Elijah and his pals reset the scaffolding, Kent scratched his neck and tried to recall the last time he’d been to church for Easter services. Must have been after his last Afghanistan deployment. Following his discharge fro
m the service, he’d lived with his parents temporarily, and no way was he getting out of going to church on Easter Sunday if his mom had anything to say about it. But he’d left worship feeling angrier than ever at God. After all the flag-covered caskets Kent had paid his respects to in drafty echoing airplane hangars, the pastor’s hope-filled sermon about Christ’s resurrection didn’t go over real well.
“I’m cooking ham and sweet potatoes for Easter dinner. I’ll have blueberry pie, too,” Erin said, interrupting his gloomy train of thought. She glanced away. “But if you have too much to do here, I understand.”
“I, uh...”
“Hey, Kent,” Elijah hollered, “we’re ready to get painting.”
“Be right there.” Still debating with himself, he puffed out his cheeks. He sure didn’t want to be a downer for Erin on a day that clearly meant a lot to her, much less impose on her family time. But the compulsion to say yes was eating him alive, and it had less to do with another delicious home-cooked meal at Erin’s table than the chance to spend even one more hour with her.
“You have a big day ahead.” Erin nodded toward his painting crew as she opened the car door for Avery. “I’ll talk to you next week—”
“Yes.”
Erin swung her head around. “Yes?”
“Yes, I accept your invitation. If it’s still okay.”
Her brows drew together. “For dinner, you mean?”
He was sure to regret this, but then he didn’t seem to have a whole lot of control over his decisions these days. He choked down the boulder blocking his vocal cords. “I’ll try to make it to church, too. What time does it start?”
The spark in those gorgeous blue eyes kindled a blaze beneath Kent’s heart. “Worship starts at ten thirty, but we’ll already be there for Sunday school. I’ll watch for you and save you a seat.”
With a brisk nod, Kent got Erin’s door for her. As she buckled her seat belt, she sent him a smile filled with hope and happiness, and the knowledge that he’d put it there made his chest swell with his own kind of joy.