Right from the Start

by Jeanie London

  She looked lovely and fresh and ready to face the day, with the calm that was so uniquely hers firmly in place. But Will knew beneath that exterior was a kind and caring woman whose gentleness was actually her source of strength, a deep strength that didn’t waver in the face of opposition or adversity or challenge.

  The kind of strength that weathered life’s storms and made her emotions run equally deep. Emotions like loyalty.

  And passion.

  The memory of the way Kenzie had danced for him, had made love to him and come apart in his arms stunned him. How had he ever gotten so lucky?

  He didn’t know how they could make a relationship work given the parameters of his life, but they would figure that out together. He was determined to keep understanding the skills that would help him be a more effective parent and a partner worthy of the blessings he’d been given. At the moment that included not freaking out because he’d need a doctor to sign off on a release before he could even drive his truck again, which created more problems than he could even comprehend at the moment with transporting Sam and traveling to job sites.

  That meant accepting the fact that he’d blown precious hours needed to complete the work at Angel House. He remembered what Deanne had told him, “You can’t finish the building if you kill yourself.”

  He hadn’t killed himself, but he hadn’t listened to her, either. Had he not pushed himself to the edge, he might not have been so careless last night. He had only himself to blame. He knew the rules, knew very well accidents happened on the job when workers were tired or distracted.

  Those rules applied to him, too.

  Reaching across the console with his uninjured hand, he took Kenzie’s hand. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. But you already thanked me.”

  “I thanked you for last night. Now I’m thanking you for not taking no for an answer.”

  “Then you’re very welcome. I’m really pleased with the result of that choice, too.”

  He chuckled, bringing her hand to his mouth, brushed a kiss against her smooth skin. He felt a peace he hadn’t known before. She was so lovely, so completely right for him and Sam, and he found himself touched by the way her breath fluttered and her mouth parted, as excited by him as he was by her.

  How had he ever gotten so lucky?

  God only knew. Seriously.

  The color rode high in her cheeks and she slanted a glance his way with sparkling eyes as she turned onto Main Street not far from their building.

  Will braced himself for the sight of protestors as he had every day for the past few weeks, for the emotional drain of standing his ground in the face of opposition.

  But the scene was worse than Will imagined when she wheeled off the side street. The lot was packed with cars and trucks, busier than he’d seen it yet.

  “Oh, come on.” He groaned. “You’d think they’d at least have the courtesy to park in a public lot and not take up our spaces.”

  “Who?” Kenzie leaned forward to gauge the distance between two cars that hadn’t left much room to pull through.

  Will opened his mouth to reply, but then it hit him. He hadn’t seen any protestors on Main Street, and the big van on the far end of the lot wasn’t a television van but a panel van with a magnetized logo that read: Atteberry Construction.

  He glanced more closely at the cars and trucks in the lot, mostly trucks with toolboxes and equipment packed in the back.

  Kearney Developers.

  Tom & Al’s Redi-Rooter.

  Nunez & Son Flooring.

  Van Brocklin III Painting.

  “What is— How is this even possible?” he said, disbelieving.

  Kenzie put the car into Park and turned to face him, beaming. “Well, you have Jason to thank. Apparently he called his uncle last night and told him what happened. Then his uncle called while you were having your wrist set. I answered your phone, and we had a nice conversation. He said he would take care of everything. He cares about you a great deal.”

  Will could only imagine a conversation between Bob and Kenzie. The very idea might have made him laugh if he still wasn’t still trying to wrap his brain around the fact that all these people weren’t on their jobs but his. Guys he knew well. Guys he’d only worked with occasionally. But he could guess that Bob had sounded the alarm and folks had responded.

  The magnitude of such generosity was so big that Will could only stare through the windshield at the crowded parking lot, so overcome that he had no words, couldn’t even look at Kenzie because the enormity of his relief and profound sense of gratitude felt a lot bigger than he was right now. But he could practically hear Deanne reminding him, “God provides.”

  Big-time.

  And somehow Kenzie knew, and in that intuitive way of hers, she did exactly what he needed. Twining their fingers together, she gave a reassuring squeeze, a gentle touch that seemed to say simply, “All is well.”

  He finally turned to her, met that dazzling gaze and felt the warmth of her smile from the inside out.

  And he knew all would be.

  Even better than he could have ever imagined possible when he pulled her into his arms and they kissed.

  And kissed.

  When Will finally lifted his head to peer into her beautiful face, her expression so filled with pleasure, all he could think to say was, “So, while I was getting poked and prodded, you were pretty busy.”

  “Oh, Will.” She faced him with an expression he’d never seen before, a mischievous one that could barely contain her excitement. “You have no idea.”

  And she was right. Will couldn’t possibly have imagined that, after facing so much negative press, for every protestor there would be three people willing to step in and help Angel House achieve its goals.

  Not only did Bob, with Jason’s help, rally friends and business acquaintances from all over town who had shown up to complete all the projects Will couldn’t on his own, they wrapped up much more work than he’d even hoped to get done.

  Every piece of trim installed. Every wall painted. Every vent and light and plumbing fixture mounted and wired and caulked. They were professionals who knew how to work together on job sites, and there was lots of laughter and good-natured complaints and lots and lots of jokes about Will’s accident.

  To support the generosity and efforts of the construction crew, Kenzie rallied her friends to help out by running a buffet at Positive Partings to keep everyone fed while they worked.

  By Friday night, the work was completed and all the contractors’ trucks cleared out of the parking lot.

  At the crack of dawn on Saturday, the moving trucks arrived. Kenzie’s dad moved the buffet outdoors, setting up his grill in the parking lot, marinating his special barbecue chicken and feeding the workers and movers from Angel House.

  The contractors who had worked maniacally for two days showed up again, only this time to sit in lawn chairs and talk shop. Main Street from West Orchard to South Wall took on the appearance of a block party, a full week before the Apple Festival was set to begin.

  Even Kenzie’s not-at-the-moment loser friend had turned up to lend his efforts to the cause. And to Will’s surprise, Mr. BMW wasn’t so bad after all. At least once his status permanently changed to never-again boyfriend, now only friend. His loss was Will’s gain, so Will could afford to be generous.

  Monday morning saw Kenzie’s parents packing up the grill and her friends heading back to work, her included.

&n
bsp; But by then Angel House had things under control. The place remained a flurry of activity with teachers working around the clock to install the school in its new permanent location. Parents came and went, helping out when they could in between setting up for the Apple Festival, which would take place only a few blocks up Main Street.

  And when the day of the walk-through finally arrived, there were protestors with their signs, but they were swallowed up by the crowd of supporters eager to present Angel House as the community effort it was.

  Even Melinda surprised Will by showing up, taking her place beside him as the parent of an Angel House student. But this particular parent had an extensive background in public relations, so whenever Deanne and the Ramsey team fell silent, Melinda stepped into the breach to seize the opportunity to do what she did so exceptionally well—manage Angel House’s reputation by communicating all the ways this one resource center served not only the Hendersonville community, but also provided a yardstick for the global community that so desperately needed innovators and leaders.

  But the biggest surprise of all came when Deanne’s assistant arrived midafternoon as the group gathered around an observation window of a classroom, where one of the faculty and an aide worked with several kids, including Sam.

  “Forgive me for interrupting,” she said to Deanne. “But I wasn’t sure if you knew about the media outside. They’re here to cover the building rededication.”

  Deanne managed her surprise for the benefit of the Ramsey team, but still had to point out, “The building rededication isn’t until five, when the mayor kicks off the festival.”

  Her assistant shrugged nervously. “Looks like they’re a bit ahead of schedule then. It’s a pretty big crowd.”

  “Thanks for letting me know.” Then Deanne turned to her guests. “Would you like to be a part of the excitement? I’ll bet it’s not every day you conduct a walk-through during the rededication of a potential grant recipient’s new permanent location.”

  The Ramsey folks were very interested in being a part of the festivities, but Will could tell Deanne wasn’t sure what to make of the situation. He knew Melinda wasn’t pleased. Too many unknowns when they were trying to reassure the foundation and a lot of those unknowns had to do with protestors who could undo some of the good work they’d done this morning.

  “Did the mayor say anything to you about this?” Melinda asked under her breath as they headed toward the main doors.

  “Not a word.”

  “I wonder what’s going on.” She plastered a smile on her face and braced herself to do damage control.

  They made their way outside, but as he and Melinda trailed at the rear of the group with a few other parents, he couldn’t see much more than a sizeable crowd and some local news trucks.

  This didn’t look good.

  Deanne was immediately called into action, but not before whispering, “Will, you’re on.”

  He had no idea what she meant, but Melinda was already herding him through the group, sticking like glue to his heels. He heard Deanne explain to the Ramsey team, “I mentioned earlier, Will’s a city council member. He works closely with our mayor who works with our governor.”

  Will didn’t get a chance to react because both the mayor and governor were standing right there on the front step, presiding over a crowd that filled the circle drive and blocked access to the street.

  An aide he recognized from the mayor’s office handed her a portable microphone.

  “Good day, my friends,” the mayor said. “Welcome to the kickoff of our fair city’s Apple Festival. Today we’re rededicating the newest addition to our Main Street Historic District and we have a very special guest, the chief executive of our excellent state of North Carolina, our governor, Pat Smithson. Please join me in a warm welcome.”

  When the applause finally died down, the mayor said, “Thank you for accepting our invitation, Governor Smithson, and welcome to Hendersonville.”

  She passed off the microphone and the governor addressed the crowd in the pleasant, media-friendly persona that had made her the first woman to ever be elected to the governor’s office.

  Will exchanged a glance with Deanne, who could barely contain her excitement. The Ramsey Foundation group appeared to be suitably impressed. By the governor’s enthusiasm about Angel House or by such influential support, Will couldn’t say, but he was more interested in the woman who appeared in the wings when the governor spoke a few words about preserving the state’s history and blending the past with the present and the future.

  Kenzie.

  She was dressed as she usually was for business in one of those formfitting skirts he favored, the kind that showed off her legs. She carried a champagne bottle, and led the small procession with the governor and mayor at its head around the building to the cornerstone on Main Street.

  As the governor rededicated the building amidst a frenetic flash of cameras and rolling video, Will finally caught up with Kenzie. There was no opportunity to talk, and no need. He slid his hand into hers, content to be near her, sensing her excitement. And he knew that somehow she, with her network of connections all around the state, was responsible for this media opportunity and illustrious visit.

  He could wait until later for the details.

  “Governor, I hear you’re responsible for fixing my potholes,” a gruff voice called out from the crowd.

  “What’s your name, sir?” the governor asked, her voice amplified, an eruption of flashes popping off rounds like automatic gunfire. “The man with the potholes?”

  “Chuck Ridgeway.” A grizzled old guy stepped out of the crowd and, sure enough, it was the man from Kenzie’s class.

  Will and Kenzie exchanged a glance. What were the odds?

  “Did you vote for me, Chuck?”

  “In fact, I did, Governor. But that was before I knew you were responsible for my potholes.”

  There was laughter from the crowd, and the governor didn’t miss a beat. “Well, I’d like you to vote for me again in the next election, so file a report with the Department of Transportation. I’ll have my office follow up. Does that sound like a plan, Chuck?”

  “Sounds like a plan, Governor.”

  There was applause and more flashbulbs, then Kenzie leaped into action, leading their procession through the parking lot, laughing her lovely laugh that filtered through him in such a physical way.

  “I think Madame Estelle would be so pleased,” she whispered.

  Will sent up a silent whisper of thanks to the dance instructor who had shared her talents with this woman by his side. There was still one dance studio in the building, and Will intended to make sure it was put to incredibly good use.

  Because in this moment, his impossibly busy life didn’t feel like an exercise in stealing good moments from days spent putting one foot in front of the other. Instead, it felt like a gift.

  Such a gift.

  EPILOGUE

  HAD IT ONLY been months since Kenzie had been on schedule making progress with her five-year plan, ticking along with her plans for the future and thinking she had all the answers?

  It felt like another lifetime.

  In reality only eight months had passed since she’d revised her opinion about love at first sight. Now she had an entirely new lease on life. Her wonderful new office felt like home, and her five-year plan had been updated.

  “All done?” she asked when Sam showed up at her desk with his homework sheets in hand
.

  He set the papers in front of her showing the pictures he’d colored and the lines he’d drawn to match items to words.

  Toaster.

  Toothbrush.

  Dog.

  Swing.

  Man.

  In this case, Kenzie suspected man was actually Dad because Sam had colored the hair black and the eyes gray. But no cast. For a while there, Sam had been including that in his drawings, too, but Will’s arm had healed and the physical therapy sessions had ended, so he’d retired the wrist support he’d been wearing—permanently, to hear him tell it.

  “Good job,” she said and meant it, her heart melting around the edges when he smiled at her with laughter in those big blue eyes.

  Then he grabbed his checklist.

  He crossed homework off the list in orange marker, then slipped the dry-erase marker into the slot that kept writing utensil and checklist together. He pointed to the next item, which was his reward for completing his homework.

  “Wii,” she said.

  Sam smiled and nodded, slipping his hand into hers and tugging her along. Kenzie hopped up from the desk, grabbing the clipboard before he led her from the office and upstairs to her studio.

  He knew the drill.

  Didn’t matter that she still had stacks of folders on her desk. She’d get to them later. Today was Saturday, and Will would be working at Angel House until he installed the new appliances in the kitchen—a donation from one of Angel House’s newest community partners.

  There had been quite a few new partners.

  Not only had Angel House won the Ramsey Foundation grant, but all the media exposure—good and bad—had put Angel House on the map. Melinda had been working closely with Deanne to make the most of the opportunities, and they’d found so much support among the community.