Polly didn't feel like eating. She scooped up her glass of wine, surprised that it was still standing upright. The dogs weren't usually interested in anything alcoholic, but Han had a terrible habit of checking anything out that was at his level and these days, nearly everything was at his level.
"Rachel made cupcakes," Doug said. "We were just coming down with them." He headed for the door into the garage and the stairs leading to their apartment. "I'll be back."
"Put more chicken on," Polly said to Henry, opening the cooler. "There's no reason to go upstairs and worry. It's still a beautiful evening."
Billy and Rachel took their usual spots in the circle of chairs. Polly chuckled. Humanity just couldn't help itself, it created a pattern and then stuck with it. She looked up when the back door opened and Doug came out, preceded by two more dogs. Billy's dog, Big Jack, ran over to Obiwan and started their normal sniffing and greeting ritual. Doug's dog was still on a leash. Still learning boundaries, the pup had enough beagle in him to require that leash for a long time. He wanted nothing more than to run and play. She put her hand out for the leash when Doug walked past her and he smiled gratefully and handed it over.
"How are you this evening?" Polly asked, crouching down. Doug had wanted to name the dog Thor, but decided everyone was doing that. There was a dark brown eyebrow over one eye and he'd settled on Hawkeye, another character from the Avengers. Polly didn't spend time explaining other uses of that name, but gave Doug a copy of "The Last of the Mohicans" from her library. Sometimes it killed her that pop culture often overwhelmed literary references.
Hawkeye barked and then licked her chin, his tail wagging. He was a happy, social dog and loved being outside with everyone. She picked the pup up and snuggled his face, then walked over to the circle and sat down. Doug joined Henry at the grill and she watched them laugh together as they talked. She was glad of that. The wreck had been a shock. She looked out at the street as the deputies worked, measuring and taking photographs. The ambulance was gone and two flatbeds drove up to manage the vehicles. Polly turned away. She didn't want to watch the cleanup.
Han nosed her arm and Hawkeye yapped at him. She grinned and put the young dog down on the ground beside her, hooking the leash over the arm of the chair.
"Weird night," Billy said. "I hope Denis is okay."
"Me too," Polly responded. "I wonder what's next."
CHAPTER TWO
One night of observation in the hospital was the recommendation for Alistair Greyson. Ken had called Polly and told her one of his deputies would pick the man up the next afternoon and bring him back to Bellingwood. No one was sure what he would do without a vehicle, a problem that Polly fully understood. They still hadn't replaced her pickup truck. Polly had sworn to never drive the thing again after Joey Delancy and his serial killer partner used it.
For now, it was in the impound lot until the trial was over. She told Aaron that if any of his people wanted it, they could make an offer and she'd accept it, no matter what. She'd never gotten attached to the truck, carrying nothing in it that was important - except her dad's work gloves. Aaron had already returned those.
Polly wasn't sure why she was dragging her feet on buying another vehicle. She was going to need it once school began. Henry's T-bird was fine for her and Rebecca, but there wasn't room for anyone else. Henry had too much going on to let her drive his truck very often, so she borrowed Sylvie's car if she wanted to take the kids to Boone.
Whenever they drove past a car lot, Henry pointed at the shiny new vehicles. Polly couldn't work up enough reason to make the leap. For the most part, she walked. It was only a few blocks to the grocery store or anywhere else downtown. One of these days, necessity would outweigh her procrastination.
The next morning, Polly was at Sweet Beans with Sal and Sylvie when Ken called.
"Good morning," she said brightly, standing up and stretching. She'd been stacking freshly washed mugs and glasses into cabinets on the back side of the coffee bar.
"They're releasing Alistair Greyson this morning," Ken said. "Do you still have a room available at the Inn for him?"
"Sure we do. When do you think he'll be in town?"
"Bert's heading down. They'll be back in an hour or so."
Polly looked around the room at the piles of boxes to unpack. If she left now, Sal would be in a blithering puddle on the floor. "I'm calling Jeff. He'll meet Bert out there and take care of it."
"Thanks."
"How's the Sutworth kid?" Polly asked.
"Better than expected. Last night they weren't sure, but things improved overnight. They'll move him out of ICU today. He's got a long road ahead, though."
She sagged against the counter in relief. "Thank goodness."
"It's a pretty bad deal," Ken said. "I'm worried about Greyson, though. When I spoke with him last night, he was worried about Denis. He managed to make his way to ICU and spent time with Leslie while they waited. He's taking this pretty hard. And with his truck totaled, he's staying in Bellingwood."
"There are worse places," Polly said.
"Leslie took me aside last night and told me that they'd pay for his stay at Sycamore Inn for a week."
"You know that isn't necessary," she argued.
"I told her that. She feels terrible about the whole thing, though."
"If you see her again, tell her that's the last thing she needs to think about. We'll work something out. And if Mr. Greyson wants a short-term job, either Henry or I could put him to work." She looked around the room again. "I could put him to work here at the coffee shop for the next two weeks helping us get ready."
"Thanks, Polly. I'll let you go. Tell Jeff that Bert will buzz him when they're back in town."
They hung up and Polly smiled. She supposed this type of thing had happened in Story City when she was growing up, but she never saw it. Now that she was a business owner, it was fun to help take care of people when they needed extra help.
"What's up?" Sal asked.
"The guy who was in that accident in front of Sycamore House is staying at the Inn for a while. His truck was totaled and he doesn't have any way to leave town."
"You're putting him to work at the coffee shop?"
Polly shrugged. "I don't know. I'll talk to Henry. He probably needs a day or so to get his feet under him. Between the accident and the possibility of that poor kid dying, he's got to be a mess."
A bell rang and the front door opened. Two college aged kids came in. The first, a young girl, spoke. "Hello?"
Polly stepped forward with her hand out. "Hi there, how can I help you?"
"We heard that you were looking for help and want to apply for a job." The girl bit her lip. "Do you have applications? Are you really opening soon?"
"We do and we are," Polly said. "But we aren't taking applications here. You can either do it online or head to Sycamore House and talk to Jeff Lyndsay. He's managing all of that."
The young man laughed. "I told her we should do it online, but she insisted that we needed to meet you face to face. I'm Sky and this is Rena." He put out his hand and Polly shook it.
"Do you know where Sycamore House is?" she asked.
"We passed it on the way in, right?" Rena said. "That old schoolhouse with the trees and the horses?"
"That's it. Go in the front door and you'll see the office on your left. Stephanie is at the front desk. I'll call and tell her that you're coming to see Jeff."
Sky rubbed his foot on a scorch mark. "This is pretty cool," he said. "What a great use of this old building." He wandered over to the large bookcase on the east wall and stroked the wood. "Awesome work. Someone doesn't see the knots and pits in the wood as defects."
Polly wasn't sure if he was complimenting the place to get the job or what, but she liked the kid. He had an easy smile. His pony tail and skinny jeans would be perfect in most coffee shops, but she was pretty sure Bellingwood would have plenty to say about him. That would have encouraged her to hire him on the spot, but
she'd promised Jeff to keep her hands off. Rena was dark-skinned and spoke with a smooth accent, probably Central American. Her long black hair was also pulled back into a ponytail, but it was so thick that wisps pulled away as she moved, framing her round face.
"We'll get out of your way," Rena said. "Come on, Skylar."
"Nice to meet you." He waved as they left by the front door.
Sal stepped up beside Polly. "He was kinda cute. Can we keep him?"
"We told Jeff we'd let him handle it. Now be good." Polly gave Sal a push. "Get back to work. We have to make a dent in these boxes."
Before Polly knelt down to her task, she called Jeff. He was going to throttle her. Two applications and a run to the Inn. She chuckled to herself and dialed his phone.
"Good morning. Are you working hard?" he asked.
"I am, but I'm about to disrupt your morning. Are you ready for me?"
"I'm still employed here, so I guess I'm always ready for you. What's up?"
"Two things. A couple of kids just stopped in to apply for jobs. I sent them to you. They should be there any minute."
"Okay, that's no big deal. What's the disruption?"
"Well, I need you to go out to the Inn when Bert calls."
"Bert? As in Bert Bradford? Why would he be calling me?" Jeff asked. "You haven't done anything stupid, have you?"
"Stop it, you," she said with a laugh. "You know that accident that happened in front of Sycamore House last night? Alistair Greyson is the man who hit the Sutworth kid. He was in the hospital overnight and needs a place to stay for a few days - just until he figures out what he's going to do next. His truck was totaled and..."
Jeff interrupted. "And you said that he could stay there while this was all worked out."
"Bert is going to call you when he gets into town." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "And Sal will kill me if I take off on her. We're never going to get this place put together."
"Got it. I'll take care of the applicants and this Greystoke guy."
"Greyson." Polly hesitated. "Greystoke is from Tarzan."
He gave her a wicked chuckle. "Just making sure you were paying attention."
~~~
The ringing bell on the door at the coffee shop jerked Polly awake. She sat up straight and jumped to her feet, not believing she'd fallen asleep in that position. A quick check of the time and she realized that she'd only been out for about a minute. She wasn't over-tired. Her nights were the regular amount of up and down with animals in the bed and too much heat or too cold, whether she covered up with the sheet or threw it all off.
"Polly!" Sal called. "Your kids are here, wondering what to do."
She made her way past the piles of boxes and smiled at the three musketeers: Kayla, Rebecca and Andrew. "What are you doing up here this afternoon?" she asked.
"Mom said we were driving her crazy, so we're supposed to come up and see if you need any help," Andrew said.
Kayla said, "We took the dogs out before we left."
"And now we're here," Rebecca said. "Can we help?"
Polly looked at Sal, who shrugged and pointed at the bookcases.
"Sure," Polly said. "See these boxes? They're all books. We need an interesting way to organize them on the shelves. Alphabetical by author is important, but we aren't sure how to sort them."
Andrew unflapped the first box and pulled out a stack of paperbacks. "Look at all of these books," he said. "Where did you get them?"
"I've been to every thrift store in five counties," Sal said with a dramatic sigh. "I couldn't leave it to Polly or she'd still be trying to decide what books to take and which to leave. I just bought books."
Rebecca and Kayla emptied boxes as fast as Andrew could open them and soon piles of books were scattered around the three kids.
"I don't know where to begin," Rebecca said.
Polly came back out from behind the bar and laughed at the mess they'd made. "You'd better start making decisions." She gestured to the bookshelves along the walls. "Those are empty. Help them find their new homes."
"You're really going to let people take these?" Kayla asked Sal.
"Most cost practically nothing," Sal responded. "At one place, the woman was so glad they were leaving, she gave me the whole box for a dollar. If someone needs a book badly enough to walk out of here with it, I don't care. I hope people will bring a book back if they take one. We'll see what happens, though."
Andrew was sitting beside a stack of books reading. He leaned back on his elbow and rested his head on a shorter stack.
"Andrew Donovan," Rebecca snapped.
He lazily looked up at her. "What?"
"You aren't here to read. You're here to help. Put that book down."
Polly chuckled at the two of them. "What do you have there, Andrew?"
"I don't know. It's some old book from before I was born."
She bent over and took it out of his hand. "Not much before you were born," she said. "But this is a good one. 'On Basilisk Station' by David Weber." Polly showed it to Sal. "Honor Harrington. Did you read those?"
Sal shook her head and then rolled her eyes. "No," she said. "I was never into sci-fi like you."
"Can I take it home tonight?" Andrew asked, standing up and holding his hand out to Polly.
Polly glanced at Rebecca, who had planted her hands on her hips and was glaring at the boy. Polly bit her lips together to hold back laughter. "You might want to take that up with Rebecca." Polly tossed the book to the girl. "Maybe if you hold it hostage, you can get some work out of him."
"Hey! Don't be throwing books," he cried. "You might rip it."
Rebecca held the book behind her back and said, "Give me an hour and then you can read. We have to figure out how to sort out all of these books first. No more getting distracted."
Andrew looked down at the piles of books and Rebecca swatted his arm. "Stop looking at them like they're chocolate. I said you could read later."
Polly and Sal glanced at each other and quickly looked away.
"We're separating these out. Non-fiction over here," Rebecca said, pointing to a table. "Science fiction goes on this table and we can put mysteries here and children's books over there."
Polly slipped behind the bar and found a stack of paper and markers. "Here you go, Rebecca. This should help. Maybe instead of piling things on tables, you could put signs in the shelves where you want them to go."
"Does it matter?" Rebecca asked, looking first at Polly and then at Sal.
Sal shrugged. "I don't care. Once you decide, I have decorations for space you have left over." She dragged another box out to the middle of the floor.
"Maybe we save that until they're done with this part of the project," Polly said. She grinned at Andrew, "He doesn't need any more distractions."
"Whatever," he said. He picked up a stack of books and walked across the room. "This is science fiction," he announced and stacked the books on the first shelf. "I don't care where anything else goes, but I'm choosing this one."
Rebecca shook her head and sat down at a table with the paper and markers. She made signs and handed them to Kayla. They whispered and pointed, and then Kayla took a sign and propped it inside a set of shelves. Polly found a box cutter and broke down the empty boxes. For the first time in days, brown cardboard gave way to open space. Even if Sylvie wasn't ready in the bakery, they could open the coffee shop as soon as Jeff hired baristas.
Polly had no doubt there would be customers when they turned on the open sign. Jeff wanted to do a soft open, just to work the kinks out. Once the bakery was going and everyone was comfortable with their positions, they'd set a date for the grand opening. That had made both her and Sal feel much better. Neither had any experience with any type of retail, so the thought of hundreds of customers a day was terrifying.
The doorbell rang again and Polly looked up to see Henry. She smiled at him and gave a little wave.
"This is more like it," he said. "Fill those shelves and this place w
ill start looking like home." He strode across the floor and kissed her lips. Polly couldn't help herself. Whether it was his lips, the kiss or just his scent, she relaxed into him whenever they kissed.
"What are you doing?" she asked. "Checking up on us?"
"Come outside with me." Henry took her hand and gave her tug.
Polly stepped over a stack of books and followed him. "What's up?"
"Just come with me. You'll see."
He opened the front door and waited for her to go through, then taking her hand again, took her around the west side of the building.
"What am I looking for?" she asked.
"That."
Polly didn't see anything new. "What?"
Henry patted the hood of a red pickup truck. "This." He looked very pleased with himself.
"Is this what I think it is? For me? I thought we were going to look for a vehicle together."
"You don't like it?"
She raised a shoulder. "I guess. I guess I'm..." She walked to the driver's side "I'm surprised is all."
"You don't like it." His shoulders sagged and his voice dropped.
"No!" she exclaimed. "It's great. I'm just surprised."
"That was the point. I wanted to surprise you." He held out a set of keys. "I shouldn't have done this without you, right?"
Polly walked back up on the sidewalk and hugged him. "No. I'm just surprised. This is great. Where did you get it?"
"It's not new. It's used."
She took his arm. "You're so smart. You know I think new trucks are ridiculous. Used is better."
"Nate and I checked everything out. It runs like a dream and has all of the bells and whistles you had in your last truck. There is plenty of room in the back seat for all of your kids and animals." He was desperately trying to make this okay. "And it's red. Like your dad's truck."
"Henry, it's awesome. I can't believe I have a truck again." She giggled. "Are you going to tell me where it came from?"
He took a deep breath. "I made a deal with the guy who does my concrete work. He was planning to trade it in for a new truck. Since I know how he treats his vehicles, I knew it would be in good shape. The deal was just too good to pass up. Are you mad?"
Look Always Forward (Bellingwood Book 11) Page 2