“Unless you like to water-ski,” she pointed out.
“I thought you liked canoes?”
Callie melted a little at his reference to their past. “I do. I used to have a kayak, but I left it in Nashville.”
“Oh, yeah? We still have a couple canoes in the barn.”
“You do?” Callie reached for her milkshake, but her mind whirled with ways she could politely ask to borrow one.
“Sure. We never got rid of them.”
“I remember you used to let the gang use them. I didn’t realize you were still at your parents’ house.”
“Yes, down Barmill Road. I just have the house and a few acres left these days.”
Callie started to lean forward but realized she’d be too close to him. She sat back. “You’re really lucky,” she said. “Dad still lives in the same old subdivision out there in the county.”
“Well, no wonder you didn’t love it here. Every girl needs a canoe.”
“And an ATV.”
He laughed. “I have a couple of those, too. I have a whole garage and outbuilding full of stuff.”
“Sounds like you have some inventory you need to move,” Callie joked. “I would outright buy a canoe from you.”
“That so? Well, you should probably try one out first. What are you doing on Saturday?”
Callie blinked. Was he asking her on a date? “I—”
Mark shrugged. “If you want to borrow one, you’re welcome to anytime.”
“Okay,” she replied, hoping he hadn’t read her mind. “I may need a buddy, though, if I can’t talk Amanda into it.”
“Yeah? I’m free on Saturdays for the most part. Lois comes in to manage the shop.”
“Lois, right,” Callie said with a mischievous look. “I’ve been meaning to ask her about some spoons.”
Mark jokingly narrowed his eyes. “The spoons will never be for sale. They’re priceless.”
“That’s why I want them,” she teased. “Why are they priceless? I don’t remember ever seeing them at your house.”
“They were put away. I dug them out after Mom died and made a display case for them.”
“You did a great job. Where’d they come from?”
“My triple-great-grandmother was sent those spoons by the love of her life after the Civil War.”
“For real?” Callie felt a renewed spike of interest. “I didn’t know they were that old.”
“Long story short,” he said, “they were passed down to me as a reminder of loyalty and love.”
“I’d love to hear the whole story someday.” Callie pulled her phone out and checked the time. “But it’s getting late.”
“I’ll tell you the rest on Saturday on the canoe trip.”
She got to her feet, and he stood to walk her out. “Tell me the end, at least,” she said.
Mark’s mouth twitched at the corner, although he kept his gaze straight ahead. Callie knew he was aware of looks from some of the patrons in the diner. People who knew him. People who remembered her. She ignored it as they walked out, and instead she admired how his hair curled at the ends around his ears like a little boy’s. “Please?”
He reached out and touched her elbow, and for a second Callie thought he might hold her hand. “There were spoons, a wedding and then a family came along.”
She smiled. Reaching her car, she dug into her pocket for her keys. “I better get back to that farmhouse and fix the mess I made. They have another house they want me to look at later.”
Mark raised a hand in a wave and walked on to his pickup. “See you later, Callie.”
The car was as hot as the surface of the sun when she climbed in. She turned it on and kicked up the air-conditioning, then noticed Mark had stopped. She rolled down the window and leaned out.
“Don’t forget to get gas,” he called.
She laughed and waved him off like he was silly. It was nice that he still knew her so well, even after all this time.
* * *
When Mark returned to the store, he found a message on the archaic answering machine in his office.
“Hi, Mark! This is Joy Cavanaugh.”
He leaned forward in his seat. Joy was his biggest customer. She came in almost every month and bought several things to take up to the markets in Atlanta.
“I just wanted to let you know that I’m going to be moving in a few weeks. My mother’s been sick, and she’s up in North Carolina. I’m shutting the house up for now and wanted to let you know how much I appreciate your business. It really meant a lot, and I hope I’ll see you when I get back.” She ended with a phone number with a North Carolina area code.
Mark slumped in his seat, and the once pleasant taste of a burger on his tongue turned to bitterness. His swirling thoughts about Callie faded into the background.
Joy had sometimes bought antiques from him worth up to a thousand dollars. It was money he couldn’t do without. He realized he wasn’t breathing and took a gasping breath that reverberated in the silence of the store.
It was happening. He was going to lose the store, his parents’ pride and joy and, besides his house, the only source for employment and retirement he had. Everyone would talk about how the Chathams ran that old shop for generations until their son came along and lost it to the bank. He’d be a disappointment. Again.
The phone jangled, and the shrill sound made him jump. He wasn’t ready to speak to Joy, and he certainly didn’t want to hear from the bank. It rang insistently, and he finally picked it up with a frown.
“Antique Market.”
“Mr. Chatham?”
The voice sounded familiar. “Yes?” Mark wrinkled his forehead.
“This is Mrs. Pennington from Little Steps Academy. I’m afraid we have a problem this afternoon.”
Mark’s heart sank. “Oh, no. Is Hadley okay?”
“Well,” the school’s principal continued, “she’s in my office screaming at the top of her lungs because she refuses to sit in the time-out chair, and I have another parent on the way.”
Mark closed his eyes. His first instinct was to say, What has she done now? but instead he said calmly, “I’m on my way.” He hung up and rubbed his forehead. Closing up again to pick up Hadley was another hour of sales lost, and he’d just returned from lunch. He sighed tiredly.
* * *
The lights were just coming on over the softball fields. Crowds of children ran around barefoot, and mothers and fathers shouted at their Little League players to quit chasing butterflies.
Pushing the bad week with Hadley to the back of his mind, Mark climbed out of the truck and grabbed his equipment bag. He needed to hit some balls. A swing and crack of the bat would release the negative energy that had seeped into his bones.
“Goldie! How are you?”
The familiar voice ruined Mark’s newfound contentment on the way to the Copperheads’ practice field.
A trim, athletic form jogged up beside him. Matt McIntyre, his banker, had been muscular in high school and tried to keep in shape. He probably had a gym membership. He could afford it.
“Hey, are you playing tonight?” McIntyre asked.
Mark kept on walking. “Practice,” he replied.
“Oh,” the man said in a casual tone. “We have a game on field six.”
Mark didn’t reply, hoping he’d go away without bringing anything up.
“So,” fished McIntyre. “Have you thought about selling any more land?”
“I already did, McIntyre. I’m not selling any more.”
The man acted incredulous. “What’s a few more acres?”
Mark sighed to keep from losing it. “I don’t want to sell any more land.”
The banker persisted. “You have, what? Nine or ten acres left? You could sell off what’s across the road.”
Mark g
lanced at him, then over at his team’s field. He knew the banker was aware there were only eight acres left. The house was down to five on one side, but thankfully the people who’d bought the land behind him hadn’t messed with it. It was still just grown-over fields that once produced cotton, peanuts and tobacco.
“There is the rent, you know,” McIntyre reminded him. They came to a stop, with the Copperheads’ practice one way and McIntyre’s game the other.
Mark forced himself to look McIntyre in the eye. “I’m almost caught up for May on the shop. I’ll get that in, and I’ll have June’s by July.”
“And July?”
That left him speechless. The ball fields weren’t the place to talk about overdue payments. Mark realized his mouth hung open. He snapped it shut and said in a hard voice, “I will be completely caught up by August.”
McIntyre nodded. “Okay. But just so you know, we made a nice profit on your last parcel of land and would be happy to take some more off your hands.”
Mark gave McIntyre a sharp nod. “Thanks for letting me know. Have a nice game.”
He walked off before anything else was said. Of course, he was lucky they’d given him the option to trade a few acres in to cover his debts, but McIntyre was greedy. He’d started snatching up acreage like a hoarder when the population began to grow.
Not Mark’s land. He was keeping his land around the house and the field across the street—for Hadley. Not that she deserved it at the moment. She’d pulled the hair of one of the little girls at school.
His chest pinched at the thought that selling off all the land would settle his overdue rent and a lot of other problems, but he had to honor his family. He’d sold the baseball card collection, but it still wasn’t near enough. He was running out of options and really only had the spoons left. But those were too special.
The thought ran through his mind that going back to Florida to start over was an option. But then he shook his head as he strode toward the dugout.
He belonged to Ragland, and Ragland belonged to him. He wasn’t leaving.
Chapter Six
Callie drove out to the Pierce farmhouse, her mind mulling over the week. She was grateful Mark had been available to help her out. Lunch in town at the Grub ’n’ Go had been fun.
She couldn’t believe she was enjoying her stay in town so far. She’d left Ragland because she wanted something more glamorous. In fact, she was missing out on what her friends were doing back in Nashville right now. Wasn’t she?
High school, Mama, Nashville... It all seemed like forever ago. When she’d finally relented and agreed with Amanda to come home for the summer, she’d felt depressed at first. How was it that she felt more excited to get out of bed every morning now? Callie chuckled. Maybe it was Amanda’s spaghetti.
But no. She knew the truth. It was Mark. He was still a wonderful person, albeit with a little extra baggage. She shook her head and put a hand on her stomach. There was no way there could ever be anything between them like before. Besides, he’d given her up once. He’d surely have no problem doing it again.
A light mist hung over the fields, but morning sunbeams broke through and lit up the world. Callie pulled into the gravel drive of the Pierce house and stopped to study it after parking the car. Something about it made her heart flutter. The fresh coat of paint and recently landscaped yard made it look idyllic, like a dream she’d once had but forgotten. She hopped out.
The hutch she’d bought from Mark was downstairs, but she hadn’t seen it yet. Todd had dropped it off last evening as promised and put it inside the back door. She could work on it later on the enclosed back porch that had once been a butler’s pantry.
She’d just started repositioning the twin beds after removing a hideous landscape painting from a wall when she heard a car door slam outside. Her ears perked up as the front door opened, and someone called out, “Cal, you here?”
“I’m up here, Amanda!” Callie trotted down the stairs.
“Hey, how are ya?” Her sister greeted her at the bottom step. She was looking around with a checklist in her hands. “This looks great. I like the sofa where you’ve positioned it. I could watch television and still see outside.”
“Yep, that was my thought, too.” Callie scanned the room. “I like the new picture over the mantel—at least, it’s new to the house—and isn’t the chandelier the cutest?”
“Too cute. What else do we need?”
Callie pointed up the stairs. “I’ve pretty much finished up except for the master bedroom. Once I find a bed, I already have some bedding I can use for staging, and then this place is ready to go.”
“You’re so talented.” Amanda squeezed Callie’s shoulder. “I could have never have done this. It looks like it’s right out of a magazine.”
Callie’s cheeks warmed at the compliment. “Thank you,” she sang. “It’s all about the throw pillows.” They both laughed. “Come on, let me show you the hutch.”
Amanda followed her to the kitchen. They pushed open a glass-paned door that opened into what would become a mudroom.
“Wow,” Amanda said, but she didn’t sound impressed.
“Really? Look at it.” Callie ran her hands down the side, admiring how smooth the finish was even after so many years.
“Todd said it was a piece of junk.” Amanda furrowed her brows. “I hope you paint it or something because that’s not going to match at all.”
“Not everything has to be matchy-matchy,” argued Callie. “Besides...” she pulled open one of the drawers “...this fits the farmhouse. It was once beautiful, but it’s had a little damage. With some hard work, it will be as good as new.”
“If you say so,” Amanda said.
Callie laughed. “I’ll get to it this weekend or next, but you don’t need to wait to list the house. Let’s get a bed put in upstairs and put it on the market. I’ll work on this in my free time and cover it up with a tarp for showings.”
Amanda made a face. “I’d rather it be show ready.”
“It will be. This room presents well enough. I’ll get the hutch done in a couple weeks, and then you’ll have everything perfect.”
Amanda seemed wistful, but she nodded. They walked back into the kitchen and sat down in ladder-back chairs that surrounded a rustic planked table. Callie picked up her water bottle and unscrewed the cap.
“What are you doing on Saturday?” Amanda asked. “Do you want to come to the ball field in the morning? Justin has a game.”
Callie started to agree, but she froze. Then sheepishly admitted, “Actually, I’m going canoeing on Saturday.”
“With who?” Amanda asked.
Callie’s heart flipped in her chest, and she wondered why she felt the need to act like it was no big deal. “I’m going with Mark.”
Amanda looked surprised.
Callie waved her hand like it was nothing. “When he picked me up the other day because you wouldn’t answer your phone,” she teased, “we went to lunch, and he mentioned he still had canoes at his parents’ place.”
“I’m sure he does.”
“Yes, and he said we could go on Saturday.”
“Wow.” Amanda looked satisfied. “A date.”
The words horrified Callie. “No, not a date.” She forced herself to chuckle. “It’s not a date, he’s just a business associate and...” She hesitated. “I guess we’re kind of friends again, but we’re just hanging out.”
“Hanging out.” Amanda tossed her a look. “That’s what you’ve been doing the past ten plus years in Nashville. It’s called dating.”
Callie shook her head in denial.
Amanda leveled her gaze like she was trying to send a message directly into Callie’s brain. “I think Mark broke your heart. You keep complaining you can’t find anyone, but you won’t even commit to the idea of dating.”
“I’m happy
to commit. I just haven’t met anyone serious, and I don’t want to go through that again.”
Amanda sat back with a sigh. “Mark’s still a nice guy. You could do worse.”
Callie knew that was the truth. “It didn’t work out the first time, so I’m not going to let myself go there. I’m going canoeing, and he’s going with me. Not a big deal. I promise.”
Amanda looked away. “That big gaping hole in the kitchen needs a nice shiny refrigerator.”
Callie glanced behind her, grateful for the change in subject. “Yeah, you said you ordered it, right?”
“I did last week, and it’ll be here Monday.” Amanda sighed. “It should be here Monday.”
Callie beamed. “This house is going to be great. Wait and see. We’ll get a big fat commission off of it.”
“I hope so because I need it. I never knew kids were so expensive.”
“I thought after the diaper phase, it was pretty much like having a pet.”
“Not so much.”
Callie said nothing, but the fleeting thought of motherhood skipped across the surface of her mind like a stone over water.
Would she ever have children of her own someday?
* * *
Callie was the last person Mark expected to see so soon. Back in high school, she’d been sweet and fun to talk to, but talking with her now was even better.
“I’m not here to bother you, I promise,” she said. “It’s just a business call.”
Mark caught himself grinning. “You’re not bothering me.” He stood up from the shop’s counter and put down the magazine he’d been thumbing through. “Are you looking for something?”
“Well, yes, but it’s specific. I have the hutch in the farmhouse. It’s going to look great when I get it finished.”
“Good news.”
“Yes, but I’m here because I still need a queen-or king-size bed frame for the farmhouse—fast. Can I see what you have?”
His eyes shifted across the store to where an assortment of headboards were stacked upright. He pointed. “Right over there. Come on, I’ll show you.”
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