“Well, you got the church a full rainwater retrieval system and a new roof—so maybe wacky’s got its uses.” She pointed to the blueprints. “But this is a whole church roof now, not just the preschool roof. You’ll follow the specs, won’t you? Take the time to get all the details done right? Roofs are serious. Roofs are supposed to last decades. I’d hate to see the church dealing with leaks in two years’ time because someone cut a few corners to make their television deadline and you’re long gone into another blockbuster season.”
“You can supervise the installation yourself, if you want to. You seem to know more about the rainwater part than anyone else.”
Janet crossed her arms over her chest. “Some of us have to earn our living the un-televised way. You know, minding the store, all that day-to-day boring stuff?”
“Hey, that Vern looks like a pretty capable guy. He’d probably jump at the chance to be king of Bishop Hardware for a week.”
“King of Bishop Hardware. Very clever. You must play lots of chess in your off hours.”
Drew applied a confused face. “Off-hours? What are those? I’ve heard of them somewhere.” He checked his watch. “People can go get a slice of pie in their ‘off hours,’ can’t they? As a matter of fact,” he went on, pulling Janet in the direction of Ballad Road until she finally erupted in reluctant laughter, “I’m thinking Deacon’s is an excellent use of my off-hours. But I couldn’t possibly go alone.”
Chapter Nine
It was exactly how Drew imagined it. A homey diner with red-and-white checkered tablecloths and white stoneware mugs that were filled with coffee the minute you walked in the door. Laminated single-page menus with the special of the day written on a chalkboard up by the grill. A linoleum floor, and red vinyl stools lined up along the counter. The classic American diner.
A big, boisterous woman with hair piled high on top of her head called out to Janet as she walked in the door, then made a total fuss over Drew as he came in behind her. “Look here, it’s our TV star!” she said, rushing to smooth out the tablecloth at what Drew was sure she considered her best booth. “I was hoping you’d come in here sooner or later.”
“Well,” said Drew as he extended a hand, “I had about a dozen people tell me I couldn’t leave Middleburg without tasting Deacon’s pie. If anything tastes as good as it smells in here, I’m not going to be disappointed.”
“This is Gina Deacon,” Janet said as she slid in opposite Drew. “All the good pies are her doing.”
“I’m tickled to see you in here today, you know,” Gina said as she filled Drew’s and Janet’s cups with great-smelling coffee, “’Cuz I been working on a special project in honor of your visit. I been fiddling around with a local specialty, adding some of those cookies you like so much. I call it Milk and Cookies Pie. Got the first one in back right now. Made with a heaping batch of Delicious Dave’s and a whole bunch of other good stuff.” She flushed and put her hand to her chest. “I’d be honored if you’d give it a taste.”
People often gave Drew things, little trinkets, souvenirs and such, but the gifts that were creations—fruits of thoughtfulness and labor—won his heart most of all. Companies gave him things, he had a box of plaques and awards somewhere in the back of the bus, but it was kids’ drawings and a handmade Missionnovation knit scarf that decorated his desk. He smiled. “I’d be a fool to turn down an opportunity like that.”
Gina strutted off to the kitchen to unveil Milk and Cookies Pie. This kind of stuff just never got old for him. People—all individual, unique people—were still the most amazing things God ever created.
He poured a dollop of creamer into his coffee. Actual cream in a little ceramic pitcher, not that semi-liquid non-dairy stuff that came sealed in little plastic cups. When was the last time he’d not had to take his coffee creamer out of the package before he used it? “I’ve been thinking about the preschool garden. We’re onto something with the rain barrels and the little gardening station. I want to turn it into a mini ecology center. Get kids to realize part of seeing God in the world is seeing God in nature.”
Janet took her coffee black. He could have guessed that. “I can’t see how anyone would argue with that.”
“I noticed this great birdhouse in the churchyard—a little replica of the church. Beautifully handcrafted. Do you know who made it? I want to set up a whole neighborhood of those birdhouses to use in the garden. Can’t you just see it? Little birdhouses that look like places in Middleburg? We could even have a Bishop Hardware birdhouse. It would help the kids understand that animals are a part of God’s world just as much as they are.”
Drew has suspected Janet might find the concept a little too artsy, but since it’d support a local artisan, he thought she’d go for it. Now he wasn’t sure—she got the most bizarre look on her face, as if she found the subject of birdhouses embarrassing.
“Don’t you have people on your team who could build those kinds of things?” she asked.
“Not like that. I looked at it closely. That thing was really well done.”
Gina came back with two slices of the gooiest, creamiest-looking concoction he’d ever seen. She must have caught the tail end of their conversation, because she smiled at him as she set the plates down on the table. “Janet’s church birdhouse is adorable, isn’t it? I’ve been thinking about asking her to make up a pair of tiny cottages for my niece’s baby shower—she’s having twins. You know, one pink and one blue—wouldn’t that be sweet?”
Now Drew knew what that funny expression was all about. That odd look was Janet Bishop blushing. Even as she stared down at her pie, he could see her face taking on a decidedly pink glow. She wasn’t the kind of woman who wore lots of makeup, so he hadn’t noticed until she lowered her eyes like that how incredibly long her lashes were. Wow, he thought, if the show’s makeup artist got a hold of those eyes, they’d knock a guy clear across the room.
“You made that birdhouse, didn’t you? You’re talented. You’ve been holding out on me. There’s an artist hiding inside all that practicality.” He ducked his head until he caught her gaze. “It’s an amazing birdhouse. Even you have to know it’s amazing.” She looked up at him, and her embarrassment tugged something out of him.
“That one was a special case.” Her voice had a completely different tone to it.
“So you do have more? Made?”
It seemed like a simple enough question, but it seemed to unnerve her. “A few. It’s a hobby, sort of. I sell them at the shop sometimes.”
On second thought, Drew mused, those eyes were pretty amazing all on their own. “Will you let us buy everything you’ve got? Maybe make a few more?”
“Oh.” She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know.”
“She’s a talent, our Janet,” Gina affirmed, grinning.
“She’s right, Janet. It’s a gift, not something you hide behind.” Janet blushed more, fiddled with her fork. “We won’t even show them on camera, if that’s what’s bothering you. But can’t you see how perfect they’d be?” He caught himself applying the charming pressure he wielded so well, and told himself to back off. Janet Bishop was not a button to be pushed. “Just think it over. I really like the birdhouse I’ve seen, and I’m sure I’ll like your other ones. They’d be great. But it’s up to you.”
Janet managed a slight nod and Drew felt better. “Gina sure does know how to indulge,” Janet changed the subject as she surveyed the chocolate-cookie-creamy-peanuty-caramel pie before them. They took bites at the same time, both falling into moans of satisfaction. It was as if Gina Deacon had taken every great dessert in the world and mixed them all together in gooey perfection.
“Delicious Dave would be proud. Maybe even jealous,” Drew replied.
Gina waved him off. “Well, you’re sweet to say so. Y’all just enjoy yourself.”
Drew dug in for a second heaping forkful. “Nobody needs to ask me twice.”
Janet sat at her workbench later that night, trying to glue a tiny shutter onto a
colonial-style birdhouse. It was painted to look like a brick house, complete with a tiny chimney and a gray slate roof. Diamond-paned windows and sets of small black shutters peeked out around the oval opening in front. This one had come out especially nice. She imagined it mounted on a pole beside all her other houses in a ring around the preschool garden. It would be like an avian neighborhood, just as Drew described.
She liked the idea. The more she thought about it, the more she liked it. But it bothered her, too. Like everything Drew Downing did, it felt over-the-top. All her existing houses? She’d donated that one birdhouse to the church back when she and God were still on speaking terms. She’d enjoyed making and donating that one, mostly, she supposed, because it was her idea on her timetable. She’d had the time to get it just right and to present it when she was ready and not a minute before.
She doubted it would go that way with Drew. Downing was an “everything now” kind of guy. He’d asked for “all she had and maybe a few more,” and that felt so extreme. Asking too much. Missionnovation was here for a three-week stint, and then they’d roll off toward their next spectacular feat. Not only would he take all she had, he’d probably want a dozen more new houses by Friday, and she couldn’t work that way. Her birdhouses were her own private pleasure, not some new method for Drew Downing to display his creativity.
She maneuvered the tiny shutter into place and clamped it tight. Still, it had been flattering to know how much he liked them. Drew had complimented the church birdhouse before he even knew it was hers—and much more so once he did. Her last two were even better than that church one—her skills had grown a lot since then. He’d like these. The soft buzz of satisfaction humming in her chest when she thought about it wouldn’t be ignored.
Janet looked up and ran her eyes along the shelves in her workroom, where the eight birdhouses sat lined up in a neat row. Some of them had been there for a while, keeping her company while she made more. She doubted he would abuse them. He wouldn’t do something like ask her to make a mini green-and-white Missionnovation bus birdhouse…would he? No, it wouldn’t be anything as deliberate as that. It would just feel as if she were contributing to the spectacle of it all—a spectacle that rubbed her the wrong way.
Then again, wasn’t she contributing to it already? Bishop Hardware was supplying lumber and pipe, nails and screws—why not birdhouses? If he’d asked her to order a dozen birdhouses from one of her supply catalogues, she wouldn’t have thought twice about placing the order.
But these birdhouses were personal.
And it bugged her because it was all getting personal. Drew Downing was turning into one of those aggravating people you want to hate but just can’t. Was she ready to accept the fact that the nice guy on TV—okay, the God-fearing, high-voltage nice guy—really was just that?
What seems too good to be true usually is. Wasn’t that the old saying? Did she know enough about Drew Downing—about who he was and what he believed—to trust him?
The shutter slipped out of its fastening and slid down the side of the birdhouse, leaving a trail of glue in its wake. Janet sighed and wiped off the glue. She was too distracted for this kind of detailed work this evening.
The troublesome thought was, she couldn’t ever remember the last time she was too distracted to work.
Chapter Ten
“How are Gil and the guys liking their brush with fame?” Janet said as she folded town council agendas with her friend, Emily, a few days later. Emily’s fiancé, Gil, ran Homestretch Farm about ten miles out of town. Paroled offenders lived at the horse farm as part of a unique reform program Gil ran. A big, surly group of young men managed by a big, surly man, “the guys and Gil” had been obvious choices for some of the heavy lifting tasks during the renovation.
“The guys are starstruck,” Emily replied, leafing through a stack of bridal magazines as she and Janet babysat the town hall’s jam-prone automatic folding machine. “But I think Gil doesn’t know what to do with a guy like Drew Downing.”
“Don’t we all wonder what to do with him?” Janet said, banging the machine with her hand when it stalled. The contraption sputtered, then settled into the task of spitting out the folded papers with a consistent thumping rhythm.
Emily caught the edge in Janet’s voice, and raised an eyebrow. “Not a fan of the big green bus? I’ve heard you talk about that show as if you watched it a lot.”
“Mom watches that show a lot. I’m a captive audience when I’m over for dinner. Or when Mom tries some new project out on me that she saw on the show.”
Emily shot Janet a glance as she took a stack of folded agendas out of the machine’s bin and placed them in a box on the counter. “Your back deck trellis is lovely. I want one.”
Which was an amusing comment, because it’d be hard to find any more places to put decorations or flowers on the gingerbread cottage where Emily lived. Janet had wondered—more than once—how she was going to add her brand of charm to the huge work-a-day house she’d live in on Homestretch Farm once she and Gil were married. Gil wasn’t exactly the flowerbox and cottage garden type. Perhaps it was living proof that opposites really do attract.
“I’ll send Mom over as soon as you’re married. And it’s not the work I object to. From what I can see Missionnovation does good work despite how fast they move. It’s the hype. You can’t go near that site without somebody pointing a camera at your face.”
“Oh, I can imagine. Gil told me they were half an hour late for dinner because he couldn’t get the guys to step away from the cameras.”
Janet let loose a laugh. “The Homestretch guys? Hamming it up for cameras? Now that’s entertainment. That show is turning everyone in this town upside down.” Her laugh died down. “I wonder if we’ll all still be as thrilled when the circus leaves town.”
“Don’t you think Missionnovation is on the up-and-up? They’re going to use your rainwater collection idea. And you said yourself, the team’s been doing solid work. Even the hardware store is better off with all those orders. I don’t see the downside in this.” She paused and pointed at Janet. “Except that we may never hear the end of it from Howard.”
Janet let the machine finish its batch and then gave it time to cool off before reloading it. She didn’t want to have this conversation with Emily over the noise of that thing, anyway. “I know there’re dozens of logical reasons why this could be a good thing. But I don’t seem to be able to shake my gut feeling on this. If anyone else had asked to buy all my birdhouses and put them up in the church preschool, I might even be fine with it. So why is it bothering me that Drew asked?”
Emily raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t tell me he asked for all of them.”
“He asked for as many as I can give him. And you know his rush-rush timetable.”
“You could do it. If you wanted to.”
Janet looked at her. “But do I want to? Pipes and drywall and stuff are one thing. My birdhouses are another. Those are personal, you know? I take a lot of time and care with those.”
“Janet, no one’s ever pressured you about church before, they’re not going to start pressuring you now about your birdhouses. They already have the one you made.”
Emily was another of those church people like her mother and Dinah. Janet appreciated Emily’s soft touch when it came to church matters—and was one of the few people other than Dinah who knew the full story of Tony’s fraud. Emily seemed to understand the scars Janet carried. She still invited Janet to church things, but was fine when Janet declined.
Bebe never gave in so easily. She’d asked Janet again to come to the prayer meeting at the bus—resulting in another near argument when she declined. Did her mother somehow think the famous green bus would suddenly dissolve years of well-grounded resistance? As if those kinds of wounds could be erased by the right cute guy?
When had she come to think of Drew Downing as cute?
The thought must have shown on her face, for Emily responded with the worst possible questio
n. “Janet,” she asked, “is this not about church or birdhouses? Is this about Drew Downing?”
This was why she found it hard to be around newly engaged people. They were forever pairing her up. “No.”
“You’re sure?”
Janet rolled her eyes and flipped the switch to turn the machine on again. It made a whining sound she’d never heard before, but eventually wheezed into action. “The guy is a walking amusement ride—more ups and downs than a roller coaster. I’m having trouble enough just working with him.”
“Maybe there’s another reason why. A more personal reason?”
“Please. Leave the hero worship to Dinah.” Janet fiddled with a knob or two until the whining stopped. “I’m sure the way to that man’s heart is through Muffinnovations. Even Gina baked him a pie the other night and made us try it.”
Emily put a hand on one hip. “You took Drew Downing to Deacon’s for pie?”
Janet lowered her voice to an aggravated growl. “I was dragged to Deacon’s for pie by Drew Downing. The man’s an unstoppable force.”
Emily waved a pile of papers like a fan. “So it seems.”
Emily got the chance to learn that for herself the next day. Janet was just finishing boxing up some hinges to take over to the site when Emily practically ran into the shop. “I’m asking you,” she said as she caught her breath, “as a friend, Janet, don’t sell it to them. Don’t let Downing do it.”
“Do what?”
“Don’t you sell him that paint.”
“What paint, Emily?”
At which point Drew burst through the door, running as well. Janet decided Emily must be a pretty good runner to have beaten him, for it looked as if they’d raced here. “You’re kidding, right?” Drew said as he stalked up the aisle toward Janet. “The church isn’t allowed to have a green door?”
Emily squared off at Drew right in front of Janet. “No, it isn’t. The church door must be blue.”
Bluegrass Courtship Page 5