“That sounds doable,” John nodded, glad to see the hope spring into her eyes. “I’d add another sun room, on the south side of the house while we’re at it. One for your guests so this one could be your own private retreat.”
His words were music to Chelsea’s ears, but as much as she’d dreamed of that very thing, she had to be realistic.
“I’d love that, but I’m on a budget. Maybe that could be a project for down the road,” She smiled wistfully. “So you’re interested in quoting the job?”
“Yes ma’am, I’m very interested. Why don’t you show me around?”
Chapter Two
“Sharon, are you home?” Chelsea dropped her keys on the entry table, kicked off her shoes and went in search of her friend and host. In the two months since moving to Starsdale, just after her mom’s funeral, Sharon had been her rock.
“We’re out here.” The muffled reply came from the direction of the back deck.
Grabbing two wine glasses and the cork screw on her way through the kitchen, Chelsea slid the glass door open with her elbow.
“Are we celebrating or drowning sorrows?” Sharon asked with a grin.
“Celebrating,” Chelsea’s answering grin turned into laughter as Hershey, Sharon’s Great Dane puppy, loped over to greet her.
“Hershey, get down.” Sharon commanded, knowing that the dog would not obey.
“He’s fine, aren’t you baby?” Chelsea crooned as she knelt down, gathering an arm full of squiggling puppy.
“You say that now; just wait until he’s full grown. If he doesn’t learn to mind his manners, we won’t stand a chance.” Sharon smiled at the affection between her best friend and her dog; Hershey had been good for Chelsea.
“So what are we celebrating?” She asked, reaching for the bottle.
“I think I found a contractor,” Chelsea stood, disentangling herself from puppy paws. “At least I hope so.”
“That’s great, who?” Sharon kept her expression neutral; as much as she wanted to support her friend, she saw the bungalow as nothing but a money pit.
“John Mills, do you know him?”
Unable to keep the surprise from her face, Sharon stopped mid-pour, the wine bottle suspended as she stared at Chelsea.
“John Mills, are you sure?”
“Positive, why? What’s wrong with him?” Chelsea felt the bubble she’d been floating on since leaving John at the house begin to slip away.
“Nothing’s wrong with him, I just can’t believe he’s interested in the job.” Sharon resumed pouring the wine. “I mean, he owns most of the land around here and God knows where else. The man’s loaded, plus he’s old, why does he want to take on such a large project?”
Chelsea tried to reconcile the image of John Mills, completely comfortable in faded overalls and scruffy work boots, with that of a wealthy landowner.
“He’s not that old, maybe sixty or so? Who knows why he wants to do it, I’m just grateful that he’s interested.” Chelsea sipped the rich, red liquid thoughtfully. “He’s got some really good ideas.”
“I bet he does. He was an architect for years in Sacramento before he retired and moved back here full time. His son took over the business in the city.” Sharon’s grin turned predatory. “Macintyre Mills, Mac to his friends. Talk about a gorgeous example of the male species, mmm, mmm, mmm.” Sharon licked her lips.
“I believe we were talking about John, not his son,” Chelsea laughed and rolled her eyes. “Besides, you know that the last thing I’m interested in is a man.” Chelsea shuddered as she thought of Preston, her former fiancé.
“I know, I know. But you can still appreciate a work of art, even if you’re not shopping for one.” Sharon looked pointedly at Chelsea. “But back to John, if he comes on board, the whole town will be behind you.”
“That would be a nice change. At the moment, everyone I see looks at me like I’ve gone a little crazy. I can just hear them thinking ‘poor thing’ when they say hello.”
“That’s because you bought a house that’s barely standing with plans to open a B&B. In case you haven’t noticed, Starsdale isn’t exactly a haven for tourists. It’s barely a dot on the map.”
“But it should be. Starsdale is one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen, and I’ve done my share of traveling. If more people knew it existed, it could become a destination, not just a blip on a GPS monitor.”
“And you think one little B&B will put it on the map? You have to admit, that sounds just a tad fanciful. Some might say crazy.”
“Lucky for me, John Mills isn’t one of them.” Chelsea said smugly.
“I’ll say. If John is with you, you won’t need luck. Everything he touches turns to gold. Just having his name attached to the project gives you instant credibility, not to mention the PR you can generate in Sacramento. Well done, Chels.” Sharon raised her glass.
“Thanks, but I don’t want to get ahead of myself. He’s agreed to quote it, but that doesn’t mean I’ll be able to afford him.” Chelsea began biting her nails, a habit she’d only picked up in the last few months. “I had no idea he was such a big shot when I agreed to meet him. He sure doesn’t come across as some fancy schmancy architect. Are you sure we’re talking about the same person?”
“Did he call you Missy?”
“Yes, several times. It was annoying at first, but it kind of grew on me.”
“That’s him. He calls every woman he meets ‘Missy’. Makes life simpler, I guess.” Sharon shrugged. “I’ll offer one bit of advice. Whatever he quotes, do everything you can to make it happen.”
“I could always sell a kidney, I suppose.” Chelsea sighed.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” Sharon laughed. “Seriously, take your fingers out of your mouth and count your blessings, Chelsea girl. This is a good thing.”
“I hope so. I’m due for something good to happen, wouldn’t you say?”
“Absolutely. Now, what are we doing for dinner?”
Chapter Three
Standing in the overgrown garden in back of the bungalow, Chelsea whispered a short prayer to the universe asking for good news from John Mills. In the three days since their first meeting, she’d been on pins and needles waiting for him to get in touch.
In truth, she waited for more than a quote on construction, she waited to get her life started again. From the moment her mother called with a diagnosis of cancer, Chelsea had put her life on hold. She would never regret dropping everything to care for her mother, their last year together gave her cherished memories that would be with her forever. Saying goodbye was bittersweet, though the end came too soon, it was a blessing that her mom could finally escape the pain of cancer-ravaged bones.
After the funeral, Sharon had insisted that Chelsea come for a visit. The short stay turned into a life-changing mission when Chelsea first stepped into the garden where she now waited for John Mills.
She’d read the books, the ones advising not to make any important decisions after such a significant loss. Her mind knew better, but her heart still won as she purchased the bungalow within a week of coming to Starsdale. It was either the smartest or the most stupid thing she had ever done.
Finding a contractor had proved more difficult than she’d ever imagined. The limits of finding a contractor in such a small town notwithstanding, every person she contacted wanted to tear the place down. The one man who quoted the remodel came in so high that she knew he was only trying to appease her. John Mills was her last hope of saving the history, the beauty and the legacy of the old Craftsman.
“I thought I’d find you back here,” John’s voice broke through Chelsea’s reverie. Coming around the side of the house, two folding chairs in one hand and a thick notebook in the other, he looked every inch the rugged mountain man and nothing like the successful architect Sharon had described.
“It’s my favorite room in the house,” Chelsea joked, as they were standing outside.
“I can see why. There’re a
lot of nice views in Starsdale, but that’s got to be one of the best I’ve ever seen.” John stood beside her, both gazing over the mountain peaks that filled the horizon.
“It’s the reason I bought the place,” Chelsea sighed. “That, and there’s something about this house that feels like home.”
“Did you grow up in a Craftsman?”
“Not even close,” Chelsea laughed. “We moved around a lot, primarily from condo to condo. I’ve never lived in a house before I came to Starsdale and moved in with Sharon.” Chelsea reached for the chairs. “Here, let me help.”
John handed her the notebook, then set up the chairs himself.
“Thanks,” Chelsea sat, waiting for John to do the same.
Instead, he placed the notebook on the chair and walked several feet towards the mountains.
“You know, you could put a gazebo back here, maybe a small pond with a waterfall. I didn’t think to add anything to the landscape design, but it wouldn’t take much to turn this into an oasis.” He reached into the back pocket of his overalls and pulled out a small notebook and a pen. Scribbling, he completely ignored Chelsea while committing his ideas to paper.
“That sounds wonderful, but first I need to make the house livable.” Chelsea did her best to hide her impatience. “You mentioned that you had a quote ready.” The statement was more of a question, one that she hoped would prompt him into sharing.
“Oh, yes, yes I do, Missy. Sorry, I get a little carried away sometimes. Let’s take a look at that, shall we?” John smiled and came to join her.
“Yes, please.” Chelsea smiled, sending up another silent prayer. How wonderful it would be to work with someone who shared a passion for the project.
“Okay, I added a few things we didn’t talk about, like a laundry room upstairs and a butler’s pantry in place of the current laundry room. Oh, and I thought you’d appreciate a dumbwaiter to the left of the stairs; it will make transporting the luggage much easier.” Opening the thick notebook, John pulled out a single sheet of paper and passed it to Chelsea. “That’s the bottom line; you can take the book home with you and look over the details.”
Holding her breath, Chelsea looked down at the page. The number staring back at her had to be wrong. Less than a third of the lowest quote she’d received thus far, there was no way that John could do the job they discussed for that price. It just wasn’t possible.
“What’s this?” Confusion was evident on her face.
“It’s the quote we talked about, plus the few additions. Why, is it too much?” John appeared concerned.
“Too much? John, it’s too little. This can’t possibly be for everything, labor and materials.”
John chuckled. “Oh, I see why you’re confused. I didn’t tell you about the discounts I get on the materials. I’ve done a few projects over the years, so I’ve built good relationships with certain manufacturers and contractors. I passed my deals along to you.” John lowered his eyes, hoping that Chelsea would not see that he was lying through his teeth.
“But what about the labor? This is a big job, are you sure that this will cover it?” Chelsea was afraid to believe in her good fortune just yet.
“Absolutely. I’ve got a good crew, they work fast which saves money in the long run. Don’t you worry, though Missy, they’re pros. By the time we’re done, you’ll have a showplace to match that million dollar view.” John met her eyes; this time he wasn’t lying. “So what do you say, do I have the job?”
“When can you start?”
~~~
Aiming his truck away from Chelsea and her bungalow, John felt the deep satisfaction that came from bringing joy to another person. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen anyone as happy as Chelsea Bates had been when he left her.
“It’s a good thing, Martha,” he said aloud to the empty truck cab. “There’s something about that little miss that reminds me of you. I think she needs this project as much as I do.”
He drove on in silence, remembering his late wife and knowing how much she would have approved of what he was doing for Chelsea, and for the town. The fact that he would have a purpose, a goal for the next few months was icing on the cake.
Funny how this project captured his imagination like nothing else before. Of all the skyscrapers made with glass and steel that bore his signature designs, this little bed and breakfast would be his final legacy.
“Maybe I can get Mac to come home, give me a hand.” He spoke aloud again. “It’s been awhile since we worked together.” John’s eyes misted at the thought of his only son. “Wouldn’t that be fine?”
A sudden stab of pain shot through John’s back, reminding him that it was time to take his medicine.
“Damn cancer,” he grumbled, though there was little heat behind the words. “At least I’ll see you again, Martha, sooner than we planned, I know.” His voice dropped to a whisper as he thought again of Mac. His son still didn’t know about the cancer, didn’t know that his father was dying.
John didn’t want to be a burden on Mac, didn’t want him to worry or change his life in any way. But he did want to spend time with his son, as much as he could while he was still strong. Bringing him in on the bungalow job would fit that bill nicely. They could work together without Mac knowing the truth, at least for a while.
Satisfied that his plans were coming together, John ignored the pain and whistled all the way home.
Chapter Four
“Hold your horses, Artie. I’ll get to you in a second.” Lila Dean gave the counter one last swipe before reaching for the coffee pot. “Have I ever let your cup run dry?” Pouring steaming hot liquid into the oversized mug, Lila glanced around the diner, checking on her other customers.
“No, but there’s always a first time,” Artemus Pike grumbled. “How about a piece of that pecan pie?” He looked wistfully at the covered glass pie plate sitting just out of his reach.
“Sure thing, Artie. Just as soon as Sue tells me it’s okay.” Lila grinned at his crestfallen expression. “You know you’re supposed to watch your sugar.”
“Damnation, woman, can’t a man have any secrets?”
“Not in this town,” Lila laughed and slid a bowl of fruit towards him. “Help yourself, on the house.” She winked and moved towards the row of tables beneath the window.
“Morning, Judge, you want the usual?” she asked as she filled another mug.
“I do, but tell Henry to go easy on the peppers this morning, I’ve got a touch of heartburn.”
“Will do, Judge.” With a nod and a smile, Lila moved onto the next table.
“More coffee, Janie?”
“Don’t mind if I do, Lila. I wouldn’t say no to one of your blueberry muffins, either.”
“Coming up,” Lila patted the town’s librarian on the shoulder and moved back to the counter.
“Say, have you heard anything about John Mills working with that new girl on the old Thompson place?” The judge asked as Lila passed by.
“Matter of fact, I have, straight from the horse’s mouth. Couldn’t believe my ears, either. Wonder what in the world possessed John to take on something like that at his age?”
“I can’t believe anyone would take it on at any age. Have you seen the place? Should’ve been condemned a long time ago, you ask me.” Artie chimed in.
“I warned that little gal, what’s her name, Shelly, that the place needed to be torn down, but she wouldn’t listen. Can’t imagine how she got John involved in her crazy scheme.” The judge shook his head and rattled his paper.
“Her name’s Chelsea, not Shelly, and I think it’s wonderful,” Janie blew into the steaming mug. “Poor little thing’s been all over town, trying to find someone to help her. I heard that John went to her, not the other way around.”
“You know if John Mills thinks it’ll work, then it’s not as crazy as it sounds,” Lila added while heating Janie’s muffin. “He actually seemed excited about it. Said he hoped that Mac would come home, work on it wi
th him.”
“That boy hasn’t been back here in years, not since his mama died.” Artie picked up an apple, shined it on his shirt. “Maybe that’s why John agreed to do the job, to get Mac home.”
“Could be,” Lila agreed, “but I’ll be surprised if it works. I hear that our Mac is quite the playboy in the city,” she nodded knowingly.
“Can you blame him? Every man needs to sow a few wild oats before he settles down.” The judge folded the newspaper open to the crossword.
“Yeah, well, there comes a time when the sowing’s done, or should be. It would do that boy good to find a suitable woman, settle down, have a few babies.” Janie sniffed appreciatively at her muffin.
“Darlene, down at the Stop-N-Go, told me that her son hangs out with Mac in Sacramento. According to her, Mac goes through women like a prize bull goes through a field of heifers; not one of ‘em keeps his attention for long.”
Everyone laughed as Lila intended; even Janie.
“What’s so funny?” Sharon asked as she came into the diner. “Is Artie telling stories about the UFO’s again? Cause it wouldn’t surprise me one bit if they’re real.” She slid onto the stool beside Artemus, patting his arm in support.
“No, child, we’re talking about Mac Mills. But that reminds me, Artie, have you seen any little green men lately?” Lila winked at her friend as she poured coffee for Sharon.
“Go ahead, Lila Dean, make fun. But don’t come crying to me if you see something strange hovering above your ranch at night.”
“Okay, Artie, I promise I won’t come crying to you,” Lila laughed again. “What’ll you have, Sharon?”
“Six blueberry muffins to go please, Lila. So tell me what was so funny about Mac Mills.”
“Nothing really, we were just talking about his exploits in the city. Seems he doesn’t lack for company,” Janie smiled over at Sharon.
Killer Romances Page 40