I’m still here, a voice whispered in her head. I will never leave you nor forsake you.
A sense of comfort stirred, a remnant of the faith that had been strong when her family remained intact, before she went out on her own and married Chet. And with it, the sense that God might want more control of her future than she’d granted Him in the past.
A walk by the river would help. She needed fresh air and the chance to think. She couldn’t let the Wentworth project consume all her focus. She had to start planning for the future.
After a quick blow dry, Shelby changed into athletic clothes. From the sounds of laughter and quiet talking, the girls were taking a break from the unpacking, no doubt clustered on that gaudy bedspread. Shelby shoved aside a twinge of jealousy and grabbed her purse, calling upstairs that she was heading out.
She parked near the head of the River Walk at Tenth Street and descended to the lower level. As usual, the brick walkways, mature trees, and breeze off the Savannah River soothed her. Sparkling like diamonds in the sun, water sluiced off the oars of a college rowing crew, while a tug boat belched a short blast from the South Carolina side.
Some of her business owner friends might know of good lease options downtown. She could start her own interior design firm, capitalizing on her success from “Dodson’s Do-Overs” before the market grew cold. Perhaps she could even open a shop like her main competitor, Julian Etier, who, on the few occasions she’d met him, behaved as though the TV show cheapened her talent. But now, no one could fault her for returning to her original plan before she met Chet and they started flipping—and filming.
By the time she reached the restaurant, she’d decided dinner provided a good opportunity to get to know her sister’s friends. Shelby ordered two family packs and felt in her purse for her wallet. Compact, cell phone, gum, pen, but no wallet. The dark-haired owner stared at her. She snatched the purse open and pawed around inside. A memory formed of laying her wallet and phone down in the Wentworths’ kitchen before Scott put her to work. Later, Todd had brought the cell phone but not the wallet, and she’d run out to meet Angelina. She closed her eyes. “I’m sorry. I left my wallet at work.”
“Then I’m sorry, but I have to clear the order.”
“I understand.” Murmuring apologies to the couple behind her, Shelby moved away from the register.
As the sun dipped on the horizon, tinging the river with orange, the walk back to her car seemed to take forever. Shelby’s stomach rumbled. She was half surprised her CRV started. She’d go back to the house and see if Angelina and her friends wanted to order a pizza or ride with her to retrieve her wallet, then go out to eat.
But when Shelby pulled up at home, she had to park on the curb because not only the Civic belonging to one of the girls but a black Chevy truck occupied her short driveway. Scott Matthews? What was he doing here?
Voices and laughter competed with the volume on the TV. The scene through the front window revealed Scott, Angelina, Casey, and Lin seated with their feet on the glass coffee table, eating tortilla chips and salsa out of a big pottery bowl. A white-and-tan ball of fur curled on Scott’s leg.
Outside the door, Shelby froze when she recognized a voice she hadn’t heard in nine months. Chet. She identified an episode of “Dodson’s Do-Overs,” not a regular renovation, but the bloopers show from the end of season two. Chet’s bloopers had been intentional. Hers had showcased her lack of fix-it know-how or pranks played on her by Chet and his crew.
One such prank repeated on the screen in vivid color as Shelby let herself into the foyer. With a finger over his lips, Chet placed a mouse flattened into a trap on the other side of a paneling wall. Shelby entered and agreed to help remove the wall. When she reached down for a fallen piece of paneling and instead touched the dead rodent, she screamed and ran out into the front yard of the 1950s ranch. Chet followed her, hugging her and laughing while she pummeled his chest.
Shelby was still remembering the feel of those muscular arms around her when Angelina hit the fast forward button. “Check this one out,” she said to Scott. “She’s trying to nail two boards together and hammers her own thumb. This is why I can’t believe you had her working all day without hurting herself. I mean, she can hang pictures, but that’s about where handy ends with my sister.”
The DVD zoomed to Shelby’s pouty face. Everything was perfect, the outfit, the make-up, even on demo day. All except for a strand of hair making a wild loop, courtesy of Chet’s rough-housing. On the playback she said, “I’m really mad at him this time.” She held up a bandaged thumb. “Almost as mad that I ruined a fresh manicure.”
The girls laughed while Scott said, “Wow.”
At that moment, they noticed Shelby standing there. Angelina sat up straight and hit the pause button, leaving the tousle-headed TV Shelby in a grimace. “Oh hey, Shelby! We didn’t know you were home. Scott couldn’t believe you didn’t work at all on ‘Dodson’s Do-Overs.’ Well, you know, ‘ work’ as in physical labor. Can you believe he never watched a single episode before now?”
“That wasn’t a regular episode. And you know Chet planned stuff with the production crew just to get entertaining footage.” Her voice sounded tight. She’d thought people found Chet clowning around at her expense endearing, but the perspective gained with time and distance made her wonder if she’d always looked just as foolish as she felt right now.
As Scott leaned forward, Maltie jumped down and trotted over. Bending down to scoop her up, Shelby addressed Scott. “What are you doing here?”
He lifted her wallet from the coffee table. “Brought this from the site.” Before she could pose her next question, he said, “Your address is on your driver’s license.”
“Oh. Of course.”
“And he helped us move some stuff around.” Lin’s almond eyes glowed with approval as she glanced at the contractor.
Shelby caught sight of the puce-green chair as Scott stood up. “What is that doing in my living room?”
“You don’t have a single place in this room to just relax,” Angelina said. “I mean, half of these white, fussy chairs don’t even have cushy backs. And see? My wildflower watercolor ties it all together. Just two little things down here, that’s all.”
“We took the adjoining bedroom to be Angelina’s art studio.” Lin tilted her head, clasping her hands under her chin. “We hope you don’t mind. She just had too much stuff.”
“You aren’t using it for anything, anyway, right?” Angelina fluttered her ginger lashes and shot Shelby a hopeful grin.
Shelby took a deep breath. Then another. “That’s fine.” She bared her teeth in a smile. “Thank you for bringing my wallet, Scott. And now, I am going into the kitchen to order a pizza, and then I am going to bed. After which time you girls can watch any number of embarrassing out-takes you desire, as long as you refrain from laughing too loud. And I will see you Monday, Mr. Matthews.”
“Ew, you went from ‘Scott’ to ‘Mr. Matthews’ in one paragraph.” Casey’s neat brown bob framed her perfectly rounded eyes.
“And I think she stopped using contractions.” Lin shook her head. “That could be a bad sign.”
Scott made his way past the girls. “I noticed that too.”
Angelina waved a tortilla chip, then dunked it into salsa. “Oh, don’t mind her. She’s always that way.” She leaned over the bowl, crunching a bite. “When I was growing up, she had all these U.S. Girl dolls in her room, only she kept them on this high shelf. She was too old to play with them anymore, but of course, she wouldn’t let me touch them.”
Shelby flashed Angelina an accusing glare. “You drew lipstick on Alabama Mollie with a red Sharpie!”
The girls hooted, but Scott approached Shelby with his head lowered. Once she snatched her wallet, he slipped his hand into his pocket. “I’m sorry.” His low tone didn’t soothe her frazzled nerves. “I thought you’d okayed what your sister wanted to do. I can move things back if you want.”
Shelby pulled
Maltie back when the wagging dog tried to lick him. “It’s fine. I realize, I’m going to have to compromise.”
Scott grimaced. “Eh, but maybe not on the chair.”
“Agreed.” She cocked an eyebrow at Scott and opened the door. “I might trip as I carry it upstairs. Maybe you should stay for that. It could be entertaining.”
“Shelby, I wasn’t laughing at you.”
“It’s okay. It was supposed to be funny, right?”
Scott studied her a minute. “I didn’t find it funny at all.”
Just like that, like tossing a warped board onto the “damaged” pile, another piece of her married life got stripped away.
Chapter Seven
As the next week started, Scott rehearsed ways to request Shelby’s help at the bungalow when she stopped by—ostensibly for other reasons than to join in the grunt work. She wasn’t talking much to him. He realized he’d messed up on Friday, but something told him she needed jobs to do. Needed to feel needed. And he hoped if she stuck around, she’d open up.
“If you have the time, think you could run the shop vac upstairs?” he asked.
And, “You know, that dining room wallpaper needs a lot of TLC to get it off without damaging the drywall. More TLC than me or Todd are capable of.”
Shelby would check out the problem. A few minutes later, he’d hear her at work.
By Wednesday, he questioned his approach. Shelby wiped walls with hot water and white vinegar and scraped stubborn adhesive with a putty knife, still avoiding any real conversation. From the kitchen, where he and Todd were framing out the breakfast nook, Scott heard her speak with more enthusiasm than she had all week.
“Lester, what are you doing here? This is supposed to be a surprise.”
Lester. No wonder her tone held more teasing than scolding. Scott fired another nail to secure the frame, then ambled into the dining room in time to see their client reach around to pat Shelby’s back in a half hug.
“Aw, sweetie, I couldn’t stay away. And it’s just me, not the wife—and she’s the one who needs to be surprised, right? I had to see the house with the walls moved. I promise I won’t poke my nose in.”
“Oh, okay.” Shelby relented, taking off her gloves to reciprocate Lester’s hug.
Lester’s fly-away brows jerked upwards. “I didn’t expect to see you either. Ruby said you handled design and decorating—not physical labor. Hey, Scott! Did you put Shelby to work?”
Shelby smirked as Scott pumped Lester’s hand—not a conspiratorial smirk, but one that couldn’t wait to tell on him.
She didn’t wait for Scott to respond but answered Lester’s question herself. “Typically, I’m not on construction, but Scott must not have enough crew. He keeps guilting me into work. You have to see what he has planned for me next, the wallpaper on cheesecloth we found under the paneling in all the bedrooms.” Her face glowing with a sheen of perspiration, Shelby put a hand on the hip of her expensive-looking jeans.
“Guilting you?” Was that really what she thought? “I offered to walk you through some stuff your husband’s crew always took care of, so you’d feel more invested in the project.”
“And be less of a laughingstock?” Shelby’s blue eyes sliced into him.
He felt color to match his red T-shirt seep up his neck. Really? She was using Lester’s presence as leverage against him? Scott shot a glance to the older man—who watched with mouth slightly agape—then back to Shelby. He lowered his voice. “I told you I wasn’t laughing at you.”
“No, but you’re definitely doing a good job of correcting my deficiencies.” Shelby turned to Lester with a lame smile and gave a weak flap with her elbows. “I can hardly raise my arms above my head, I’m so sore. But come see, it’s going to look great. Imagine the gray-blue paint we picked out.”
Scott bit the inside of his jaw, following as Shelby drew Lester into the next room. As much as he wanted to avoid any further barbs from her, neither could he afford to miss what she might say to their client next.
“What a difference with the wall gone,” Lester exclaimed. “I can see why you wanted to use iron railing on the stairs now.” He wandered into the kitchen, nodding to Todd. “Oh yeah! This eating nook is so much better than that tiny breakfast room.”
“We’ll reuse the beadboard on the booth area.” Shelby indicated the proper trim height on the wall before turning back to them. “And you should check out your den, Lester. When you walk in, try to look past the disintegrated wallpaper and picture the far accent wall with rustic shiplap.”
Scott blinked. This was the first he’d heard of such a plan.
Shelby intercepted his expression. “What? I thought it would be masculine.
Ruby said they wanted rustic touches. Right, Lester?”
“Sounds good to me.”
“No, it’s dead on. I’m just glad to know about it before we started painting.” Scott shrugged to try to alleviate any sting from his statement.
“Good. Glad we’re all on the same page.” Shelby slid her gloves back on and walked over to her bucket, bending down to squeeze out her rag. “Sorry, guys, but I need to get back to work if I’m going to finish this wall before my afternoon appointment. Scott, maybe you should show Lester the den. Then how you framed out the new shower upstairs. See if he’d prefer a pocket door where you turn that corner and it gets kind of tight.”
Scott knew when he’d been dismissed, the same as in high school when he’d held the door open for her but she’d been too busy talking to her group of friends to notice.
Lester tilted his head and lowered his voice in a conspiratorial manner when they reached the foyer. “Butting heads a little bit?”
“Yeah, just a difference on the way we do things, but we’ll work it out.”
“Oh, wow.” Lester paused in the middle of the den and gaped at the sight of the front room covered in the 1940s, leaf-print wallpaper that had hidden behind the wood paneling.
“Don’t worry.” Scott patted his shoulder in an exaggerated gesture of sympathy. “It will all be gone. We’ll make it a man cave.”
“That’s going to be a lot of work.” Lester put his hands in the pockets of his jeans and rocked back on his heels. “You know, I thought Ruby was being too idealistic about bringing Shelby in on this so soon after she lost her husband, but seeing as how we wouldn’t even be in this house if it weren’t for her …”
“Of course. As it should be. Shelby needs this, but she seems to resent it if I suggest anything.”
Lester punctuated the air with a gnarled index finger. “But are you suggesting, or are you manipulating? Women like to be asked, son. Not told. Not tricked.” When Scott let out a frustrated breath and grinned, Lester asked, “You ever been married?”
“No.”
“Engaged?”
“No, but I don’t see what that has to do with anything. This is a work thing.”
“Is it?”
“Mr. Wentworth—”
Lester lowered his voice to a raspy whisper. “Now don’t you ‘Mr. Wentworth’ me. I see the way you look at her. And can’t quit looking. She’s a pretty thing but vulnerable now. You got to handle things right.”
“I’m trying to focus on business.”
“Which is why you care what she needs? Pulls your heart strings, doesn’t she? Yep, I get it. I remember. You knew Shelby in high school, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but she was way too good for me. Still is.”
“Who are you kidding? Are you still in high school?”
Taken aback, Scott withdrew when Lester tapped on Scott’s forehead. He was quickly learning this man had zero respect for professional boundaries.
“For what it’s worth, I think you’re right—that young woman needs this project. And I get your point. How can you enjoy icing the cake as much if you don’t help bake it? But she needs more than that, even though she doesn’t know it yet. She’s still raw, son. You’ve got to anticipate her needs.”
Scott let ou
t another soft scoffing sound, raising his ball cap to ruffle his sweaty hair. “Uh, Lester … can we just look at the bathroom upstairs?”
The older man stepped into his line of vision. Even though age had diminished his once-bulky stature, he still had to hunker down to meet Scott’s eyes. “Let me tell you something, Scott. Ruby was once too good for me, but I won her heart. And you can do the same with Shelby. You want to know how? Come out to my place after work today.”
Scott had no idea why he went. Maybe curiosity. His mom and stepdad were about the happiest couple he knew, bonded by shared faith and interests in life. But before they met, both of them had learned the hard way how not to go about a marriage. So maybe he just wanted to know if Lester possessed some secret to matrimonial longevity. That must be it because he definitely did not believe Shelby Dodson would ever look on him with romantic desire.
As Augusta rush hour traffic gave way to outlying subdivisions, then stretches of pine woods, he started to feel foolish. By the time Scott turned down the sand driveway of a twelve-acre plot near the outlying town of Sonoria, he considered backing the truck around and heading east. Then he saw the man waving to him from the front porch swing of the sprawling ranch house.
When Scott’s truck rumbled to a stop, Lester met him at the vehicle’s door. “Hey, I’m glad you came. Ruby’s at Bible study. Come on in.”
A little uneasy at this overtone of secrecy, Scott stretched as he got out of the vehicle. “Nice piece of property.”
Lester glanced over the fields studded by mature trees. “Yeah, it was great when the boys were at home, but I can’t keep up with the mowing now, and the house is too big for us. Ruby spends all her time cleaning empty rooms. At least with the bungalow, we can close off the upstairs until company’s coming.”
“Right.”
“Come on. We only have an hour. I’ve got everything laid out.”
Frowning, Scott followed the older man’s halting gait. “An hour for what? Lessons in courtship?” He expected a shared laugh but got the second pointing finger under his nose that day, coupled with an intense glance.
Fall Flip Page 5