by Amanda Tru
“Well I should say so,” said Anne, eyes still wide open. “He’s my cousin. Well, a cousin on my husband’s side of the family, anyway. His land butts up against mine. It used to belong to his great-great-grandparents, but it’s been parceled out over time.”
Anne’s speculative glance made Shelby uneasy. Maybe it was because after all this time she still couldn’t figure out what the old woman was thinking. Anne thumped the bed with one hand, breaking the silence and making Shelby jump.
“Well, that’s settled then.” Anne pointed one finger at Shelby and jabbed it for good measure. “You’re going to accept the job. He’ll at least appreciate you.”
Shelby shrugged one shoulder. “I hope I’m not taking on more than I can chew.”
“I doubt it, dear. You’ll be fine.” Anne leaned forward and stage-whispered, “Plus he’s awfully good looking too.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” mumbled Shelby. Her face unbearably hot and wondered if she looked like a tomato too. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, distracting her from the conversation. She touched the button and answered it.
“Is that you, Shelby?” Beau’s rich voice flowed from the phone, curling her toes. “I’m ready to leave. Are you?”
“Hi there. Yes, this is Shelby. I’ll be downstairs in about five minutes. Will that work for you?”
“Yes, it will. See you in a few.” She heard the line click off and wondered how he’d gotten her number. She hadn’t given it to him. Maybe Ed gave it to him. She shook her head and slid it back into her pocket. “Looks like I need to head out.”
Anne broke eye contact with Shelby. “That’s okay. You’ll come back soon won’t you?”
“As soon as I can.” Shelby leaned over the bed and gave Anne a gentle hug. Had the old woman been that thin this whole time? One last squeeze and Shelby stood up to leave.
“Be safe, dear,” said Anne, her voice thick. “I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too. Maybe Ed will come visit tomorrow. He said to tell you that they all miss you and hope that you’re feeling better soon.”
Anne nodded her head slightly. “That would be nice. Now shoo, sounds like you have a ride to catch.” She tilted her head to the side. “You never did say who you were riding with.”
Shelby gave Anne’s forehead a quick kiss. “I didn’t, did I? Something to guess about when I come next.” She gave Anne a wink and headed out the door and ignored Anne’s snort of frustration. She allowed herself a smile as she waited for the elevator. It was rare that she got one up on Anne. Beau would’ve played along. The smile slipped from her face. She’d have to take back what she’d said and work for him. If the job was still available. She stepped into the elevator to go find out—and to try to sweet talk him into letting her get Anne “one of those fancy coffees” before they headed out for good.
“I had no idea there were any Victorian homes this far into the mountains.” Shelby tried not to be overwhelmed by the sheer presence of the house in front of her. She twisted back in the loaner car’s seat to face Beau. “Are you sure about this?”
“Yes, I am. Come on, let me show you around.”
This time, Shelby didn’t wait for Beau to open the door. Instead, she flung it open herself and scrambled out. Beau strode past her onto the porch and opened the front door.
“Now this is the living room and office area.” Beau skirted a pile of lumber and pointed to the rooms from the foyer. “From what I read of Elizabeth’s notes,” he pulled a white three-ring binder off a stack of boxes and handed it to Shelby, “most of the construction is done.”
Shelby held the large binder in one arm and turned the pages with her free hand. Elizabeth was thorough. She’d give the other woman that much anyway. It was when she got to the last section of the binder that she stopped in her tracks.
“This isn’t just decorating in this binder.” She tapped the section marked ‘Christmas party.’ “You may want to pull that out, so it doesn’t get lost or damaged while I’m working on the rest of the house.”
“Here’s the thing,” said Beau, rubbing a hand across his neck. Shelby’s stomach began to sink. “I also need help planning this party too. It kind of goes hand in hand.”
Her stomach hit the basement. “I’m not a party planner, Beau. I’m not even a decorator. I’m a…” she couldn’t get artist past her lips, “person trying to help you out.” Her breath was ragged, and she felt lightheaded.
“Whoa there, Shelby.” Beau guided her to a wooden chair and sat her down. “You’re going to pass out if you don’t calm down. Here, put your head between your knees.”
He gave her back a few pats and let her be for a few minutes. “You’re thinking too hard about it. This party is supposed to be like a dinner party. Elizabeth has most of it outlined. All I need is an extra set of eyes and hands to keep things moving along. I’m pretty sure you’re more than capable of that.”
The vision of the fancy Christmas ball and accompanying fanfare faded from her imagination. Her pulse was no longer racing, and she sat up straight. Only to stare directly into the eyes of an incredibly short man with bowed legs.
“Don’t mind me, miss. We get all sorts out here. You just go back to your yoga.” He nodded to the chair. “If I could have a moment of your time, Boss?”
Shelby looked at Beau for more information, but he just gave her a small shrug instead. Some help he was. She was about to get off the chair and introduce herself when Beau stepped between them.
“Stan, this is Shelby,” said Beau, sweeping his arm toward her. Stan stepped forward and held out his work-roughened hand. “Shelby is going to finish up what Elizabeth started.”
“Oh, is that right?” Stan gave Shelby’s hand a firm shake. “That’ll be something, won’t it? If you need any help, you just ask one of the boys or me. We’ll make sure you get what you need.”
“Stan is our ranch foreman.” Beau clapped the small man on the shoulder but didn’t budge Stan from where he stood. “He’s been with us as long as I can remember.”
“Yep,” said Stan. “Now that word, Boss?”
“Excuse me, Shelby.” Beau gave her an apologetic nod. “I’ll be right back. Feel free to wander the house and look at what you’re working with. Stan.” He jerked his head to the office just off the main door and strode toward it. Stan tipped his cowboy hat to Shelby and followed.
Alone in the great house, Shelby suddenly felt very small. It had been there for a hundred or more years. Seen more generations than she could put a name too. It deserved better than her. So did Beau.
Do all things to His glory. She nodded. She could do this. After all, Elizabeth had a lot of notes. Shelby wandered into the dining room and flipped to that section of the notebook. Color swatches and magazine cutouts were taped onto the page. Elizabeth’s handwriting detailed the things that she wanted to do to the room.
Shelby went from room to room, taking a mental catalog of what needed to be done. By the time she wandered to the back of the house, she’d made a task list longer than her arm. The good news was that it was doable. The bad news was that it might take her until next July to get it all done. She twisted the knob of the closed door in front of her. It swung open easily, and she stepped into the dark room.
She flicked on the light and knew immediately whose room she was in. If the dark grays and muted blues didn’t indicate that this was Beau’s room, his hat hanging off the end of the four-corner bed sure did. The fact that it was cozy and peaceful surprised her. She looked over her shoulder and didn’t see anyone, so she took a few steps inside to take a look around. Not that she was being nosy. No, this was reconnaissance.
She had to know how the end product of Elizabeth’s process ended up. Didn’t she? There was no doubt that a woman created this room. Most men wouldn’t even consider adding matching lamps on the bedside table or hanging primitive signs on the wall indicating this was a “man cave.”
“See everything you needed?” Beau leaned on the door
jamb, arms crossed over his chest. “Elizabeth finished this room for me. It was the only room she finished, actually.”
“She did a good job,” said Shelby turning in a circle. “Do you like it, though?”
He stood straight and let his hands fall to his hips. He took a few steps in so he was next to her and did a slow turn. “Yeah. Not much junk to dust and the bed is comfortable.”
“Wow. Stop,” said Shelby, deadpan. “You’re overwhelming me with your praise of her abilities.”
Beau rolled his eyes and nodded to the door. “Have you seen the kitchen yet?”
“No, I haven’t made it that far. Although, I could use a cup of coffee.”
“This way, then, ma’am.” He ushered her through the door and down the hallway. It really was a large home, and Shelby got the sense that although he felt comfortable there, he was lonely.
They emerged into the kitchen, a bright space filled with all the current technology in cooking appliances.
“I feel like I’ve stepped into the space shuttle.” Shelby opened the fridge and, when it asked her what she was looking for, closed it just as quickly. “Did that just talk to me?”
“Yeah.” Beau reached around her and tapped a button on the fridge door. “Stan thinks it’s a hoot to turn it on. Anyway, let me get you that coffee.”
“Sure.” Shelby sat down at the small round table, not unlike the one she shared with Anne at the cottage. This one was much nicer, though. “I’ve been looking over your sister’s notes, and I have to say she had some ambitious plans.”
“Yeah? How so?” Beau poured the coffee into two huge mugs, adding cream to one. He handed her the one without cream and sat down across from her.
“Well, this is a lot of work, even if she was working on it day and night until Christmas Eve. As it is, I don’t know if you’ll get half of it done.”
His frown disappeared behind the edge of the cup. “But can some of it be done at least?”
“I think if we modify her plan—a lot—we can make it work. It’s just not going to be the full ‘Elizabeth vision.’ Is that okay with you?”
“Yeah, definitely,” said Beau, nodding so hard some of his hair fell onto his forehead. Shelby had the sudden urge to stroke it back into place. To cover her sudden embarrassment, she opened the folder and plunked it down on the table. “Here’s what I’m thinking.”
For the next hour, they discussed the changes that needed to happen to make the house not only presentable but habitable. Shelby stood and stretched, her spine cracking. “That felt good,” she said, grinning at Beau.
“Which part? Your spine or having a project to work on?”
She chuckled. “Both I guess. Mind if I take this home with me? I want to review some stuff before we get started in the morning.”
“Sure,” said Beau, taking both their mugs and putting them in the dishwasher. “I’ll walk you out.”
Shelby pulled her coat on in the foyer where she’d left it. She held the white binder under one arm, suddenly feeling awkward. “Okay, well I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Bright and early.”
He held out the loaner keys to her. “You take the car. Stan can give me a ride tomorrow if I need one.”
“Okay. See you.” Shelby waved one last time and trotted down the steps. She slid into the driver’s seat and saw Beau standing on the top step, hands pushed down in his pockets, his hair tossing in the stiff breeze. Shelby knew that was what she would be sketching in her journal that evening.
Shelby stared at the calendar hanging in Beau’s office. Each day that passed was marked off with a red X. Right now, there were three rows of solid X’s marching across the page. Only two more to go before the big party. Now that she’d had some time to consider it, and a lot of coaching by Anne, the party plans were coming together as well as they could. She’d definitely have to thank Elizabeth when they finally met. The woman could put together a great project plan like no one else.
She heard Beau turn a page in the report he was reviewing. She glanced over her shoulder and watched him push his hair out of his eyes. Definitely time for another haircut. She’d have to remind him. That’s how it had been the past few weeks. They’d fallen into a comfortable routine. He’d show up early at the cottage to pick her up and then drop her off precisely at six fifteen. Now that she was on the tail end of the project, she would have to start looking for another job, and not see Beau every day. Her stomach tightened.
But that was a worry for another day. She slipped out of the room so as to not disturb Beau and headed into the living room. What she needed at the moment was a decent cup of coffee and something for the blank spot on the living room wall. She flipped open Elizabeth’s binder and stared at the design. It really was a great idea. Unfortunately, Shelby had no way of pulling it off at the moment.
The lighting made the paint in that corner change depending on where she stood in the room. If there was something there, then the eye would shift, and the color change wouldn’t be so obvious. What Elizabeth wanted would have taken weeks longer than they had. She needed a stop-gap solution until the handmade armoire could be ordered, made, and shipped to them. Maybe if she put a small table there with a framed painting of some kind.
“Oh. Why didn’t I think of that sooner?”
Because she didn’t want to, that’s why. Her paintings were a source of joy and terror for her. She wanted people to like them but showing them exposed her to critique. Not something she looked forward to. Shelby tugged at the end of her braid. But Beau wouldn’t.
Trying not to overthink her solution, Shelby marched back to Beau’s office and stood in the doorway until he noticed her. It didn’t take long. He always seemed to know when she stepped into a room.
“Hey there, Shelby,” said Beau, stretching his arms above his head, so the fabric of his shirt stretched across his chest. Shelby looked down at her shoes as if they were the most fascinating thing on the planet. The man really needed to get bigger shirts that fitted him like a tent.
“I was wondering if you could run me over to the cottage.”
She heard his chair scrape across the wood floor. When she looked up, Beau had already pulled on his sheepskin coat.
“I need something from there to fill in a gap in the living room.” She grabbed her coat from the peg on the wall and wrapped a scarf around her throat.
“There’s a gap in the living room?” He snagged his truck keys and phone from their resting place on a small table under the window. “I thought we had all that covered.”
“Well, we did.” Shelby wobbled her hand back and forth. “Kind of.” She motioned for him to follow her into the living room and pointed to the gap between the couch on one side and the fireplace on the other.
“Do you see?” When he nodded, Shelby explained, “Had Elizabeth actually ordered the piece she wanted for it, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. But I can’t find any receipts, and when I called the artisan, he didn’t have a record of a purchase, either.”
“So, we have a gap in the wall.” Beau and Shelby said it together like they were speaking in stereo.
“Right. But I do have a solution. I just need a ride and your muscle.” She took a big breath and added in a rush, “And your opinion.”
“If that’s all,” said Beau, smiling down at her. “I don’t know how much of my opinion is going to matter. But if you’ve got a plan, then let’s do it. Will I need to bring any of the guys to help move it?”
“Oh no, it’s not that heavy,” said Shelby as she hurried after him to the truck. “The two of us can move it with no problems.”
Beau didn’t say anything when Shelby turned the heater up full blast. Just walking from the ranch house to the truck had sent her teeth chattering. Maybe a shopping trip was in order. It was all about the layers. And while it was certainly cold enough to snow, it hadn’t. She kept praying for a white Christmas, but with it coming up quick and the forecast still calling for clear skies, it didn’t
seem like it would happen that year.
“I don’t want to put Anne out of her things.” Beau broke into her thoughts. “I’d rather ask her permission than beg forgiveness.”
“Don’t worry. What we’re picking up isn’t Anne’s.” Shelby fiddled with the edge of her scarf. “It’s mine, and I’m just loaning it until your sister can get what she really wants in that spot.”
“Hmmm… if you say so.” Beau turned the truck toward the highway but slowed down when they saw Stan flag them down halfway down the long drive. He pulled the truck over and rolled down the window. “What’s up, Stan?”
“You heading into town, boss?” Stan leaned against the truck door. George, one of the young ranch hands, stood at his shoulder. “George, stay here. I need to talk to the boss.”
“Be right back, Shelby.” Beau swung out of the truck and walked with Stan over to the fence. Their voices were low so she couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Beau looked grim.
George gave his boss a sidelong glance and then sidled over to Shelby’s side of the truck. She barely concealed a wince. It wasn’t that she didn’t like George. He was nice enough, but they had nothing in common, and any conversation they had always trailed off. He kept trying though. She didn’t know how to let him down and was afraid that she was encouraging him rather than the opposite.
He knocked on the window. She debated not opening it, but that would have been rude. She rolled it down, despite her misgivings.
“Hi there, Miss Shelby.” He laid an arm across the open window frame. He wore a long-sleeved denim shirt, the cuffs rolled up over his muscular forearms and, despite the cold, didn’t seem affected by it at all. “Will we see you at the Roadhouse tonight? I’ll save a dance for you if you’d like.”
“I don’t think so, George.” Shelby hoped that the terror she felt at all those eyes on her didn’t show. “All I’m doing tonight is reading for a bit before heading to bed.”