The question came from nowhere. She laughed and it felt good to laugh. “No, I think it is safe to say we won’t be working things out.”
“I’m sorry.”
She wasn’t.
When they got to her house, he walked her up the sidewalk. She turned the key in the lock and pushed the front door open.
“Do you want a cup of coffee or glass of tea?” She stepped inside. He didn’t follow her.
“No, I think I shouldn’t come in tonight.” He rested a hand on the door frame and leaned in, dropping an easy kiss on her lips.
A few minutes later, she watched as he drove down the road, and she didn’t know what to think about the easy goodbye that made them seem like friends.
Patrick parked in his space behind the row of buildings on Main Street. As he got out, another truck pulled up behind his. He waved to the man getting out. He couldn’t tell Gracie’s twin brothers apart, although she assured him the two men weren’t identical. So this was either Caleb or Max Wilson.
“Caleb.” The young man smiled big. “I could see that look in your eyes, the one that said you were going to have to say something and you had no clue what to say or who you were talking to. We’re used to it, even though we don’t see how people could be confused. I’m obviously taller and better-looking than my brother.”
“Caleb.” Patrick held his hand out. Caleb grabbed his hand in an equally firm handshake. “How can I help you?”
“I was looking for Gracie.”
“She’s at home.”
“Oh, I saw that her truck is still here.”
Patrick glanced at the truck parked in front of his and he groaned. “If you saw it, then how many other people have seen it and wonder if she’s here?”
“She’s really not here?” Caleb grinned and leaned an elbow against the back of his truck.
“Her truck wouldn’t start.”
“Then I’m going to make a suggestion that we get it started and take it to her place. If we don’t, by morning the rumors are going to be a lot worse than they already are.”
“I’ve been trying to keep my distance so people know that we have nothing more than a working relationship.” He reached into the back of his truck for a toolbox.
“Right, of course.” Caleb didn’t seem to be buying it any more than Patrick was. He followed Patrick to Gracie’s truck and reached under the front bumper to pull out a hidden key. “I don’t know why she bothers pretending this is hidden.”
Patrick shook his head and motioned for her brother to try starting the truck. Caleb got behind the wheel and gave it a shot. The engine cranked but didn’t turn over. He looked the battery over, wiggled the cables to make sure they had a good connection and told Caleb to give it another try.
Nothing. He walked around to the cab and leaned in to look at the gauges. “Caleb, do you think she might have let this thing run out of gas?”
Caleb laughed and shook his head. “Yep. It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“I’ve got a five-gallon can of gas. Let’s give that a shot.”
He got the gas can out of the back of his truck and poured it into the tank. The next time Caleb tried the engine, it sputtered to life. Patrick closed the door.
“Drive it home. I’ll follow and give you a ride back.”
Crisis averted.
“I can walk back from her place,” Caleb offered.
“I don’t mind giving you a lift. I wanted to.” He had to admit it. “I thought I might check on her. Trent came by earlier.”
“You know she doesn’t like people getting in her business.”
“Yeah, I kind of guessed that.”
Caleb shifted into Drive. “Suit yourself. I’ll meet you over there.”
A few minutes later they were parking in front of the little house that Gracie had turned into her own in just the past couple of weeks. Even the outside had her personal touches. There were bird feeders, mums and a clothesline.
Gracie walked out as they were getting out of their trucks. Caleb walked up and handed her the extra set of keys. Patrick followed.
“You got it started.” She smiled at her brother. When she looked at Patrick, the smile faded. “Thank you.”
Caleb, a good foot taller than his sister, leaned down and picked her up. “It was out of gas.”
“Put me down. This was fun when I was sixteen. Now it’s just humiliating.”
“Sorry.” Caleb put her back on her feet. “I forget sometimes that you’re not my little sister anymore.”
“I’m still your little sister. I just don’t like to be picked up.”
“Gotcha, sis. Keep an eye on the gas gauge. You won’t always have two handsome guys to rescue you.”
“I’m pretty good at taking care of myself.”
“I know you are.” His tone changed. “But did you think how it would look to have your truck parked at Patrick’s all night?”
She turned pink. “Great, that’s not the fuel I wanted to add to the fire.”
“No, it isn’t.” Caleb wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders. “Not that I would let anyone talk about my little sister.”
“Do not lift me up again.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it. We’re going to head back to The Fixer-Upper so I can get my truck. I have a date tonight.”
“You?” She grimaced. “Poor girl.”
“Lucky girl—we’re going to a nice restaurant in Manhattan. Hey, if you see Dad, see if you can talk some sense into him. He doesn’t have to put that land up for sale. I’ve got a savings account and I told him it’s enough to get us through until things get better.”
“You know he isn’t taking your money.”
“Yeah, I know.” He glanced at his watch. “Okay, I’m running late. Later, sis.”
“Later. And, Patrick, thank you.” She smiled at him this time. He’d never known that a smile could make all the difference. In this case, it did.
Chapter Fifteen
Gracie walked down the crowded sidewalk from the Cozy Cup Café across Bronson Avenue and then the short distance to The Fixer-Upper. On her way she peeked into the other stores. Sweet Dreams Bakery had a long line, nearly to the door. The Love in Bloom flower shop had a small group looking at flower arrangements. The Happy Endings Bookstore had several customers browsing the new selection of books.
A carriage pulled by a big chestnut, its coat deep red in the midmorning sunshine, rolled down Main Street. The horse’s hooves clip-clopped on the paved street.
She stopped to watch, taking a sip of coffee as people walked past her. Across the street, Ann Mars stepped out of This ’N’ That and waved big. She’d had customers in and out of her store since she opened two hours earlier.
Gracie felt more hopeful than she had in months. She turned and bumped into Whitney Leigh. “Gracie, got a minute to grab a pastry from the bakery?”
“I think I might. Patrick brought in extra help for the day, one of the teenagers from church.”
“That’s good. I hope he needs the extra help.”
“Me, too. I hope all the stores find that they could have used extra help.”
Gracie followed Whitney into the bakery and she knew this wasn’t a social visit. Whitney seemed to be reporter Whitney today. Hair pulled back and phone in hand, she looked like someone with questions.
“So, what do you really want, Whitney? I know the pastries at Sweet Dreams are wonderful, but you have your notebook.”
Whitney smiled as she walked up to the counter and ordered two wonderful-looking cinnamon rolls. She turned and handed one to Gracie.
“I thought we’d talk about the block party and your role in putting it together. It’s obviously a success. I’ve talked to people who drove up to thirty miles to get he
re.”
“That’s wonderful.” Gracie couldn’t have meant it more. She had been praying that this block party would be a success. Others were praying, too. “Too bad we can’t convince Mr. Randall to open back up.”
“That would definitely be an answer to prayer. Even if the plant could be sold to a company that would put people back to work, it would do a lot to help Bygones.”
Gracie chewed a bite of the cinnamon roll before answering, “I know Mr. Randall’s hurting, and I know the economy had hurt business. It’s just hard to understand why he decided to just give up. It makes me wonder if the divorce is the reason.”
“It makes me wonder if he’s the man behind the revitalization of Main Street.” Whitney’s eyes narrowed. “And as much as I want to continue this conversation, there’s Mr. Randall now.”
“Don’t be too hard on him, Whitney.”
Gracie got a finger wave from the other woman as she rushed outside to catch the owner of the closed Randall Manufacturing. Gracie doubted Robert Randall would be getting any breaks today.
Gracie finished off her cinnamon roll, keeping track of the time she’d been gone. She was sipping coffee when Whitney returned, smiling as she led Robert Randall to a corner table, just behind Gracie.
“Mr. Randall, I really just want to ask you a few questions that everyone in town is needing answers to.” Whitney was in full reporter mode.
Gracie felt a huge dose of sympathy for him, and probably the same curiosity everyone in town felt. Of course Randall Manufacturing had struggled, but did the plant really have to close down? Could time have changed anything? She sometimes wondered if he had put the money into the Main Street renovation just to ease the guilt he felt.
She also wondered why Coraline Connolly had paced by the window several times since he had walked into the bakery.
“Whitney, I really don’t want to answer questions. Look at what this town is accomplishing, what the people are doing out there.” Robert Randall sounded tired to Gracie.
Gracie wondered if he might have been suffering.
“Would you consider reopening, Mr. Randall?” Whitney asked. “To save the school and other public services?”
Robert Randall gave a long, drawn-out sigh. “I might consider moving far, far away so that these questions will stop. And that’s saying something, Whitney Leigh. I don’t want to leave my hometown. My answer is the same as ever—the economic downturn hurt us all.”
The door opened. Coraline Connolly stepped in, her short gray hair styled to perfection, her pantsuit immaculate. “Whitney Leigh, there you are. I’ve been looking for you. I wanted you to write up a short story about the school fund-raisers through private companies and local representatives. We have home decor, candles, jewelry and even kitchenware.”
“I’ll be right there, Miss Connolly.” Whitney’s chair scraped back and Gracie knew that the interview would end now. It took a strong person to refuse Coraline Connolly.
Gracie turned in her seat to watch the two women walk away. She made eye contact with Robert Randall and he smiled but looked more than a little sad.
“It’ll all work out, Mr. Randall.”
He smiled a little. “I hope so, Gracie. I really do hope that things work out. I heard today that they’re letting two more teachers go, and they still don’t believe that will save the school.”
Gracie’s heart ached at the news. If the school closed, half the people in town would move and then the stores would have to close. And then what?
The plant was sitting idle. The machinery was still in place. It would mean so much to everyone to have it reopen. But the way he looked at her, it was as if he were pleading with her not to say it. Of course she wouldn’t.
“Winter’s coming. I think if I was to travel, I’d go somewhere warm. To the beach. I’ve never been, you know.” She smiled at the older gentleman.
“I’m afraid if I got to the beach, Gracie, I wouldn’t come back. And maybe that’s the way it should be.”
“We would all miss you.” She stood because she really had to get back to work.
“You should go to the beach, Gracie.” He stood when she stood, a dapper man in a nicely cut suit. “And don’t let people hurt you with their words. You hold on to the faith that has always held you up.”
She hugged him. “Thank you, Mr. Randall.”
She hurried away, not wanting to cry in front of him. As she walked toward The Fixer-Upper, she swiped at the tears that threatened to fall and pasted on a smile. There were customers out front. A few men sat in rocking chairs. Women looked at the bird feeders. Another horse-drawn carriage went down Main Street. A couple sat close while the driver talked, glancing back from time to time.
Patrick walked out the door, smiling at her as she walked up to a customer who seemed to be interested in a rocking chair. The man turned the chair, admiring the craftsmanship.
“Can I help you?” She stepped close to the customer. He looked up and then went back to studying the rockers on the chair.
“I’m impressed. Good craftsmanship. Does he ship?”
“Yes, sir, he does.”
Patrick walked back inside, leaving her to take care of the customer. She could see that inside the store had plenty of patrons to keep Patrick and their young helper, Jeff, busy. The boy was in high school and knew enough about home repair to be a pretty good hand.
“I’d like to go find my wife and have her look at these chairs.” The customer straightened and was looking down the street, probably for his missing wife. “I think we’ll probably take two of them.”
“We’ll be here until five-thirty.”
“Hi, Gracie, do you have your names for the first drawing?” Coraline Connolly walked up behind her. “We’ll announce names of each drawing from the PA system. Josh got the speakers all hooked up last night.”
“Yes, let’s go inside. I’m sure we have names. How is everyone else doing?”
Coraline smiled big. “Oh, honey, this is going so well. I know one event won’t save our town, but we’re building something good here.”
“Coraline, did you…?”
Gracie had told herself she wouldn’t ask Coraline if she was the mystery benefactor responsible for the revitalized downtown of Bygones and the new stores. Coraline smiled at her.
“Now, Gracie, you know better.”
“I know that you’re a terrific lady who loves this town.”
“Yes, I do love Bygones. So many of us do.” Coraline patted her arm. “I’m going to get those names from Patrick. And it looks as if you have another customer.”
She watched Coraline walk through the door and she turned to help the customer. She smiled at the man and his wife. He had come back for his rocking chairs. A commotion down the sidewalk drew her attention.
“Uh-oh.” She jumped back
The customers moved out of the way. Sam Franklin, high-school basketball coach and math teacher, was chasing his twins, who were racing on what appeared to be stick ponies. Sam looked exhausted. But three-year-old twins of a boy-and-girl variety could do that to a man, or a woman, Gracie thought.
The three of them, and the two stick horses, ended their journey down the sidewalk at Sweet Dreams Bakery.
Gracie turned her attention back to the customers. Jake and Martha lived twenty miles away. They were having a wonderful time in Bygones and promised the next time they needed supplies, a book or even something for their animals, they would come to Bygones.
Gracie wrote up the order for two chairs and put a sold sign on the naturally stained rockers the couple had picked. She sent them inside to pay Patrick for their purchase and arrange pickup early the following week.
The block party had the makings of a great success.
Finally there was a lull in customers. Patrick walked outsid
e. Gracie was rearranging the bird feeders and rocking chairs that hadn’t been sold.
“This has been a good day.” He watched as customers still went in and out of stores, drawn by great prices and the promise of door prizes.
“It has.” Gracie sat down on one of the rocking chairs.
“Are you okay?”
She looked up, brushing wind-whipped hair from her face. “Of course I am.”
“Your ankle?” He sat down next to her. It felt odd, the two of them in rocking chairs side by side. It also felt strangely right.
“It’s a little sore,” she finally admitted. “I haven’t really paid attention until now.”
“You need to take a break now that the rush is over.”
“I don’t think it’s completely over. We still have two hours.” She glanced at her watch and then at him. “Did you eat lunch?”
“No. I’m going to run down to the Cozy Cup and grab coffee. Maybe I’ll stop by the bakery.”
They rocked a few more minutes. “Patrick, I’m fixing dinner tomorrow. For my dad and brothers. Would you like to join us at the farm after church?”
The invitation took him by surprise. It made him think about what he was doing here and what she was doing. He couldn’t think of another woman who had ever made him think about life as a couple. But he couldn’t say that to her, not yet. Not weeks after she ended an engagement. How did he say that when she’d had a seriously failed relationship with a man who hadn’t been what she needed?
How did he caution her to slow down, because he might not be what she needed?
“So?” She continued to rock, looking his way only briefly. “I’m starting to get nervous. Don’t leave me hanging. I know I’m not the best cook, but I promise it won’t kill you.”
He smiled at that. “Maybe I should bring the bologna and a bag of chips?”
“Is that a yes?”
“That’s a yes.” He pushed himself up from the rocking chair. “I’m going to take a walk around the block and see how the other stores have done.”
The Boss's Bride (The Heart of Main Street) Page 16