Home to Walnut Ridge

by Diane Moody

  “Copper?”

  “Yep.”

  “Awning.”

  “Sure.”

  “The dump?”

  “Why not.”

  The sisters laughed, causing Lester and Hank to look up from their work.

  “Looks great, guys! We love it!” Alex cheered.

  “Totally makes the look of the shop,” Tracey added. “You guys are geniuses!”

  The two awkward young men tried to hide their smiles but didn’t succeed. Without a word, they went back to work.

  Buddy and Noah came around the corner to join the girls.

  “I’ve got to hand it to you,” Buddy said, observing the dramatic changes on the old smokehouse. “You guys have outdone yourselves on this one.”

  “Who, us?” Hank asked.

  “Well, not just you‌—‌all of you. It’s been a team effort from the first day. Just look at how far we’ve come in a matter of days! Noah, have you ever seen anything like it?”

  He smiled, shaking his head. “Not even close. I feel like we’re on one of those makeover shows on TV where a team comes in and completely overhauls a house in one week.”

  “Ah, those guys?” Stump came up behind them, giving Buddy a pat on the back. “We’d give those turkeys a run for their money. Course, we don't have a hundred folks workin’ behind the scenes, so it’s taken a little longer, but they ain’t got nothin’ on us.”

  “Still, it’s amazing,” Noah said. “Absolutely amazing.”

  Buddy scratched the back of his head. “Now, if I can just convince Deacon to come around. He’s determined to find some piddlysquat ordinance on the books to keep us from opening as a business. You wouldn’t believe the lame attempts he’s made so far.” He put his worn baseball cap on his head backwards. “I honestly believe that man’s entire purpose in life is to make me miserable. His sole reason for walking on this earth.”

  “I keep askin’‌—‌you want us to pay him a visit?” Stump offered. “All you’ve gotta do is ask.”

  “No, but thanks for offering‌—‌again. I learned a long time ago to let the Lord fight my battles. He can handle them much better than I ever could. Things always seem to work out better when He’s calling the shots.”

  “I keep meaning to ask,” Noah began. “Why’s he called Deacon? That’s surely not his real name?”

  “Nah, his real name is Deke. But once he took over as chairman of the deacons at the church, folks just started calling him Deacon. He rather liked the title.”

  “Enough about Deacon,” Tracey said. “Dad, the workbench in the back studio looks incredible! I can’t wait to get all our paints and materials in there. ”

  “And the sooner the better,” Alex added. “Our babies are complaining about the cold nights out in the barn. They’ll love the nice warm heat up here.”

  Buddy snapped his fingers and looked at his daughters. “That reminds me, did DeAnne Barlowe find you two?”

  “Yes!” Alex said. “She told us you sent her down to the barn. Would you believe she bought that dining table and six chairs we just got in? We haven’t even started refinishing them yet!”

  “She told us she was heading up to Nashville to buy something for her renovated dining room,” Tracey added, “but then she heard we were opening a shop, so she stopped by to see us first.”

  Alex continued. “She was thrilled because this way she got to pick out the color and finish to match her decor. And she paid us full price‌—‌on the spot! She even said she was going to show before-and-after pictures on her blog and tell everyone about us. Did you know she has over 10,000 blog followers?”

  “What’s a blog follower?”

  They all turned to look up at Lester on the roof. When no one said a word, Tracey intervened. “A blog is an online journal. Like if you kept a journal—say, a journal about your hobbies or your work or maybe just a place to share the books you’ve read. Then you post it online and other people read it and make comments on it. It’s a popular means of social networking.”

  Lester stared at her, blinking twice before scratching his chin. “But I don’t have a hobby.”

  “Oh, well, you don’t have to have a hobby to blog,” Alex said. “Trace was just using that as an‍—‍”

  “And I don’t like to read.”

  “No, Lester,” Buddy said, chuckling. “See, all she was trying to say was‍—‍”

  “And I don’t have an online either.” Lester went back to work, turning his back to them. Apparently, he was through with the conversation.

  “Okay, then!” Buddy laughed as he turned to go. “Well, I’ve got to skedaddle. Pray for my meeting with Deacon so I don’t punch his lights out. Noah, you still have those boxing gloves I loaned you?”

  “Sure thing. Stop by the cottage if you want to pick them up. They’re on the coffee table right next to my sword.”

  Buddy turned around, walking backwards toward his bike. “Hey, now‌—‌a sword duel with Deacon. That has possibilities!”

  Alex turned to go back into the shop. “Bye, Dad. Good luck.”

  Just then Gristle rolled up on his Harley and parked right beside Buddy’s bike. “What’s this? Some kinda party goin’ on and no one calls me?”

  “You just about missed me,” Buddy said, putting his helmet on. “You okay? We were wondering where you were this morning.”

  Gristle took off his helmet and stepped off his bike. “Well, I needed to catch a class this morning, if you know what I mean.” He glanced at Buddy sheepishly.

  “Ah.” Buddy reached over to grab Gristle’s shoulder. “Good for you.”

  Tracey looked at Noah with questioning eyes.

  “A.A.,” he mouthed with a smile.

  “Oh,” she said silently.

  “Mr. Daniels been calling you again?” Buddy asked.

  “Yeah, he sho ’nuff been callin’. That dude must got me on speed dial. Called me a good six times ’fore I got up and just left. I never answered. I wanted to, but I didn’t.”

  Tracey looked back to Noah for help.

  “Jack Daniels,” he mouthed.

  “Oh,” she mouthed again.

  “But don’t you worry none, Buddy. I called my girl, and we found us a church service to go to. Good thing it was a Wednesday night, huh?”

  “Good for you.” Buddy wrapped his arm over Gristle’s shoulders. “I like this girl already. When do we get to meet her?”

  Gristle looked over at Noah and Tracey. “That’s what I was wantin’ to ask. Okay if I bring her along Saturday?” He flashed a goofy smile. “Maleeka, she loves my bike.”

  “Maleeka?” Tracey said. “What a beautiful name.”

  “Yes it is, Miss Tracey, but it ain’t half as pretty as she is.”

  “Ah, that’s so sweet. I hope you’ll bring her. I’m riding with Noah, so it’ll be nice to have at least one other female on the trip.”

  “Tell her we’d love to have her join us,” Buddy said just before keying his ignition. “Just don’t be late!” With a salute off of his helmet, he turned the bike and headed out.

  “I goin’ park my bike out back and get to work,” Gristle said. “Okay wid’ you if I start varnishin’ that workbench?”

  “That’d be great,” Noah said. “I’ll go wipe it down for you. Varnish is already inside.”

  “Perfect. See you later, Miss Tracey.”

  “Bye, Gristle. I’m looking forward to meeting Maleeka on Saturday.”

  The goofy grin returned as Gristle cranked his bike to life again. “Ah, you goin’ like her. She’ sumpin’ else.”

  As Gristle took off, Tracey tugged on the bill of Noah’s ball cap. “I’ve got to get down to the barn and help Alex. We’ve still got a lot of work to do.”

  “You sure you’ve got time to go to dinner with me tonight?” he asked.

  As Tracey turned to go, she folded her arms across her chest as a cool breeze kicked up the fallen leaves around them. “For you? I’ll make time. Dad said we could take h
is car. I think I heard him vacuuming it out early this morning. How funny is that?”

  Noah stepped up on the porch. “A man and his machines. It’s a beautiful thing. Pick you up about five, okay?”

  “I’ll be ready,” she said. “Me ’n my boa.”

  “You mean, you and your beau?”

  Tracey smiled as he disappeared inside the shop.

  Me and my beau?

  Even better.

  Chapter 16

  Noah still hadn’t told Tracey where they were going. Taking the long, winding mountainous road heading east, he’d easily dodged all her questions. They’d been driving just over an hour when he pulled into the gravel parking lot.

  “This is it?”

  “This is it,” he answered, sliding the Buick Regal into an open space. “I promise you’re going to love it. Welcome to High Point.”

  He opened the car door for her then took her hand as they made their way toward the enormous three-story stone mansion with the cobblestone roof. “Looks like it belongs back east. In those old neighborhoods in New York.”

  “New York, eh?”

  “So what’s the big secret? Why didn’t you just tell me about this place?”

  “Ah, you’ll just have to wait and see. This old house has all kinds of secrets to tell.”

  They stepped under the covered entrance and through the heavy arched front door. Inside, a hostess greeted them, acknowledged Noah’s reservation, then led them to a room with lots of windows, low lights, and a large stone fireplace toward the back. Seating them in the corner beside the hearth, she left menus with them and said their waiter would be with them shortly.

  “Interesting place, Noah.”

  He watched as Tracey looked around the room, taking in the tablecloths, folded napkins standing like pyramids on plates, candlelight on each table, and the fire crackling just beside them.

  Her face glowed with curiosity. “It’s positively magical in here.”

  After their waiter served their drinks and took their orders, Tracey crossed her arms and leaned her elbows on the table. “All right. Out with it. What’s so mysterious about this place?”

  He smiled, reaching for her hand. “High Point has quite a history. You are sitting in a home once built and owned by Al Capone.”

  “Right. And that couple over there is Bonnie and Clyde.”

  “Now, Tracey,” he chided like a patient school teacher. “In fact, this was a stopping point for the famous mob boss as he traveled from Chicago down to Florida. Capone had it built in 1929. Supposedly there’s a whole system of underground tunnels beneath us that helped Capone transport his liquor during Prohibition. I don’t know if it’s true or not, but supposedly, there’s a layer of sand between the floor here and the tunnels below to stop any bullets from penetrating.”

  “So you’re really serious? This really belonged to Capone?”

  “I’ve also heard he built the house for one of his mistresses. Which was convenient, of course, since it was right on his way to Florida.”

  He watched Tracey study the room again, this time with believing eyes. Turning to look out the windows, Noah noticed the sun had set and the growing darkness outside had engulfed the back patio area in an eerie shroud of fog.

  She looked back at him. “Seems like they should be playing the theme from The Godfather instead of Tony Bennett.”

  The waiter returned with their dinners‌—‌a bourbon-marinated rib-eye served with a fully-loaded baked potato and Caesar salad for Noah; a filet mignon served with a burgundy mushroom sauce, accompanied by steamed asparagus with hollandaise and an applewood spinach salad for Tracey.

  “This is so good,” Tracey said, slicing off another bite of her steak. “How did you find this place?”

  “One day I was out for a ride by myself, and I pulled off here in Monteagle for gas. When I asked the guy at the counter where he’d recommend for dinner, it was either McDonald’s or ‘a real swanky place’ up the road, as he put it. It was about this time of day, so I decided to check it out. One of the best meals I’ve had in years. And you can’t beat the ambiance.”

  Tracey touched her napkin to her lips. “So you just hop on your Harley and go for rides whenever the mood hits?”

  Noah felt a stab near his heart, unsettled that she’d unknowingly hit so close to home. That was exactly what he did‌—‌take to the open road whenever the memories and thoughts threatened to overwhelm him.

  “Noah?”

  “Something like that.” His smile didn’t feel legit, but it would have to do. Glimpsing the concern in her eyes, he busied himself with a sip of water. Change the subject. Quick.

  “What have you heard from Miss Sadie? Anything new about the Lincoln cup and saucer?”

  She rested her fork back on her plate. “I can’t believe I forgot to tell you! She stopped by the house early this morning to tell me she’d contacted the Smithsonian. You should have seen her, Noah. Her face was wild with excitement again, just like it was that first day she found out about the cup and saucer.”

  “What did they tell her? The folks at the Smithsonian.”

  “They said they’ll send a team to investigate and determine whether it really is an original. Apparently, it’s quite common for companies to make reproductions of presidential china patterns. Sadie said the person she talked to wasn’t convinced ours were authentic. That’s why she’s so eager for them to see for themselves. And not just the teacup and saucer, but the note and letter from Craggie Collins as well.”

  “If they validate its authenticity, will you donate it to the Smithsonian?”

  “I’m not sure. Alex, Dad, and I haven’t had time to talk through all of that yet.”

  “I suppose not, with everything else going on.”

  They talked about the progress on the shop and possible time frames for its opening, what else needed to be done, and the ideas Tracey and Alex had for decorating once it was ready. Noah loved the way her eyes lit up when she described the new business and all the potential it held.

  “I didn’t have a chance to talk to Buddy after his meeting with Deacon and Faye, did you?”

  The sparkle in her eyes quickly faded as she relayed Buddy’s comments when he got home.

  “Never mind that our shop will bring people to town who’ve never been there before. We have plans to advertise throughout the mid-south. We’ve been working with a friend to design a website for us, and we’ll use all the usual social media networks to get the word out, showcase our pieces, and all that. So you’d think Deacon would be pleased at the prospect of having folks discover our little town, and visit the other shops and restaurants. But no‌—‌instead he’s trying every possible angle to stop us from opening. It makes no sense.”

  The waiter cleared their dishes and Noah ordered coffee and dessert, though Tracey said she couldn’t eat another bite. “But wait until you taste this grilled pound cake. You won’t believe it.”

  The waiter returned with an enormous slice of the grilled confection, a generous mound of vanilla bean ice cream resting on top, all drizzled with a caramel sauce.

  “There’s enough here for four people, let alone two!”

  He handed her a fork. “Oh, I think I can handle it. Here, just taste it.” He held the bite to her lips.

  A moment later, she closed her eyes. “Oh, that is just decadent.”

  “Told you.”

  “Hand me the other fork. I think I suddenly found room for this.”

  Later, as they finished their coffee, Noah mustered his courage and took her hand. “This is nice. I’m glad we came.”

  “Me too.” She breathed in slowly, then let out a long sigh. “Even though I’ve only been back a few days, it seems like months now. I can’t tell you how much I needed an evening like this.” She smiled, her eyes sparkling in the candlelight. “I’m glad you brought me here.”

  Noah rubbed his thumb slowly against the back of her hand. “Tracey, I need you to know that . . .” He’d rehea
rsed this in his mind before they left Jacobs Mill. Now, at the perfect moment to say what he wanted to say, the words eluded him.

  Tracey leaned forward. “What is it?”

  He gave her a nervous smile and pushed through the jitters wreaking havoc with his gut. “I just wanted to say that . . . I’m really thankful we met. I certainly never saw it coming. Ever since I’ve known Buddy, I’ve heard about you. I guess you know he’s really proud of both his daughters. He talks about you all the time.”

  “Really?” she asked, tilting her head.

  “To listen to him, you pretty much run Washington.”

  She laughed. “Yeah, I can see him saying that. He’s never understood my fascination with politics, but that paternal pride sometimes works overtime. Dad’s always been a cheerleader for Alex and me. He’s definitely got the gift of encouragement.”

  “Clearly,” Noah agreed. “Which is why all of us stick around. When I’m on the road now, I can’t wait to get back and see what Buddy’s got going‌—‌who needs a helping hand, where he’s headed on his road trips. Definitely a contagious personality.”

  She smiled. “That’s my daddy. Everybody loves Buddy Collins. Well, except for Deacon and his cronies.”

  “Yeah, but he’s the exception.” He swallowed hard and continued. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, until I met you, I didn’t think I could ever . . . I mean, I wasn’t sure anyone would ever . . .”

  Her brows rose as she waited for him to spit it out. Why is this so hard?

  “Anyone would ever what, Noah?”

  He sighed. “I didn’t think I’d ever have these feelings again. I thought I’d live the rest of my life on my own. Unattached. Because to love again would just be‍—‍”

  “—too much of a risk?”

  “Yes. Too much of a risk. I’m not sure I’d survive if something happened again. If, well, if something were to happen to you. To us.”

  She looked deeply into his eyes, her face filled with compassion. “Noah, life doesn’t offer guarantees. It just doesn’t.” She looked down at their hands. “Someday, when you’re ready, I want you to tell me all about Melissa. It’s important to me.”