by Mia Ross
“Do you want to know what I decided during church today?”
“Sure.”
Stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, she faced him squarely, determination glowing in her eyes. “I’m not going back to California at the end of the year. I’ll ask if I can stay on at the mill, but if that doesn’t work, I’ll figure out something else. Exhausting and challenging as this week’s been, it’s also been the most fun I’ve ever had at a job. I feel like what I’m doing matters, and people pay attention to what I have to say. I totally get why Chelsea left her father’s bank to work there.”
“Well, she was in love with the owner,” Heath reminded her with a grin. “I think that had something to do with her decision.”
When Tess opened her mouth, the hard look on her face warned him she was about to pelt him for not taking her seriously. Then, for some reason, she stopped and gazed up at him with a thoughtful expression. He couldn’t begin to imagine what she might be thinking, and he cautioned himself to be light on his feet to avoid irking her any further.
“Heath, have you ever done anything crazy for love?”
Completely unprepared for such a probing—and personal—question, he stared back at her while his mind raced to come up with a response. To his surprise, he heard himself say, “Not so far.”
“Me neither. Everything I’ve ever done made perfect sense, at least at the time. I think that’s kind of sad, don’t you?”
There was a troublemaker question if ever he’d heard one. Seeking to avoid hurting her feelings, he hedged. “That depends.”
“On what?”
“On whether you’re happy with the results.” She gave him a give-me-a-break look, and he sighed. “Okay, I see your point. The question is, what should we do about it? I mean, individually,” he added to be absolutely clear. He didn’t want to muddy the friendship waters with any misunderstandings.
“I’m not sure, but things won’t change if we just stand around waiting for something amazing to happen. We have to make them change.”
That sounded familiar, and he grinned. “Sounds like Pastor Griggs’s words of wisdom got through to you.”
“Loud and clear,” she agreed as they resumed their stroll. “Are all his sermons like that?”
“More or less. He and his wife have four kids and a passel of grandchildren, so he’s pretty much seen it all.”
“I usually hate it when people give me advice, but for some reason with him I didn’t mind. I suppose it’s all in the delivery. When you know someone’s honestly trying to help you, with no ulterior motive, even if you don’t like what they have to say, it goes down better.”
Heath smothered a grin. Every day she spent in town, she sounded more like a native. It was no wonder she’d felt like there wasn’t a place for her among the ambitious people she’d known in California. She had a lot more Southern girl in her than she probably wanted to admit.
“The man’s got a knack for nudging people in the right direction, that’s for sure.”
They spent the rest of their short walk chatting about the mill and what remained to be done before his stint as their maintenance foreman could be called a success. The subject of Tyler Green never came up, and Heath was grateful for that. Friendly by nature, his bizarre reaction to the guy bothered him, and he’d rather not examine it too closely.
In his experience, when you did that, you usually found out something about yourself you’d rather not know.
Chapter Eight
It was a rare warm evening in late October, and Tess was enjoying some quiet time on Gram’s front porch, reading the latest book from her favorite mystery author. After working at the noisy, dusty mill, the fresh air was a welcome end to her day. Pausing between chapters, she reached over to the wicker table beside her and picked up her dripping glass of sweet tea. While she drank, the call of a nightingale prompted her to glance around to find the source. She saw the bird in a nearby tree and leaned her head back to listen to its repertoire for a few lazy minutes.
Thoroughly distracted from her book, she let her gaze wander around the cozy neighborhood populated by old homes and stately trees. Every front porch was occupied by people either talking or reading actual newspapers. The elderly couple next door was listening to a baseball game on the radio, and she marveled at how the residents of this little town enjoyed the simple things in life.
She heard the crunch of feet in the side yard and looked back over her shoulder to find Heath strolling toward her. Laughing, she teased, “I hate to be the one to tell you this, but your sneaking skills could use some work.”
“Tell me about it.” He grinned back, kicking a pile of dried-up leaves out of his way. “Doesn’t anyone in your family own a rake?”
She loved the way he referred to the Barretts as your family. Knowing he viewed her as one of them cemented her growing feeling that she’d finally found her place in the world. “Uncle Tom’s been here a couple times, but he can’t rake them as fast as they fall. I offered to help out, but he told me it’s man’s work.”
“That must’ve gone over well.”
“A month ago I probably would have given him a piece of my mind.”
Heath came up the porch steps and settled into the chair beside hers. He was holding a folder in his hands, and she wondered what was going on.
“And now?”
“I’m getting used to the Southern gentleman thing,” she admitted with a smile. “It kind of grows on you after a while.”
“That’s good, ’cause we’re not planning on changing our ways just to suit you.”
As much as she enjoyed sparring with him, her curiosity got the better of her. “You didn’t come here just to chat, did you?”
“Well—” He drew the word out on a long drawl then shook his head. “I could use your help with something. It’s important,” he added emphatically, as if he feared she’d turn him down if he didn’t give her a good reason to say yes.
“You don’t have to talk me into it, Heath. For everything you’ve done to help me, I’m happy to do something to pay you back.”
She held out her hand, but he pulled the folder into his chest in a protective motion that was baffling and touching at the same time. She’d never seen him act this way, and his reluctance to give up whatever was in that folder made her smile. “Please?”
“I should explain first, or it won’t make sense to you.”
“Okay,” she agreed, curling her feet up under her and leaning on the arm of her chair. “Shoot.”
He stared at her for a few anxious seconds then took in a deep breath and began. “You know I restore cars as a side job, right?”
“I saw the old Packard you did for Bruce Harkness. He had it parked out front of The Whistlestop the other day, and he spent half an hour telling me about all the work you did on it in the last six months. It’s gorgeous.”
That got her a grateful smile. “Thanks. The work I do for Fred pays the bills, but I really love hauling in an old wreck no one wants and making it into what it used to be.”
“Like the boys did with the mill.”
“Exactly.” Warming to his subject, he set the folder on the wicker table between them and faced her more squarely. “Anyway, there’s a house for sale just outside of town, not far from Scott and Jenna’s place. It’s a Cape with a nice yard, but what I’m really after is the original carriage barn out back. If I expanded it, it’d make a great workshop.”
“I remember you saying you had a lead on your own place. Is this the one?”
“Yeah.” Giving her a sheepish grin, he said, “I gotta admit, I’m kinda surprised you remember that. When I talk about it, most folks pretend they’re listening, but next time I see them, they can’t seem to recall any of it.”
“I’m not like that,” she reminded him, adding an enco
uraging smile. “I’m guessing there’s more you want to tell me. Go ahead.”
While he outlined his ideas for her, his eyes shone with excitement. He made her think of a little boy talking about the cool tree house he was going to build, and she hid a smile to avoid making him think she wasn’t taking him seriously. When he finished she tapped the folder. “Are these the plans?”
“Yeah. The problem is, I need a zoning variance to run a business in that spot. Bruce invited me to make a pitch at this week’s town meeting, but I’ve never done anything like that so I’m not quite sure how to go about it.”
“And you’re asking me for my input?” When he nodded, she was equal parts flattered and confused. “Why?”
“You’re smart, and you have good judgment and business sense.”
“Scott’s like that, too. Besides which, you guys have been best friends forever. Why me?”
He hesitated for a moment then gave her one of those irresistible grins. “Okay, you got me. I picked you ’cause you’re way nicer to look at.”
If the artless compliment had come from anyone else, she’d have bristled and scolded him for being a chauvinistic caveman. Since it was Heath, she took it in stride and opened the folder. Inside were honest-to-goodness blueprints, with the stamp of an architecture firm that listed an address in downtown Roanoke.
“You really went all-out for this,” she said while she flipped through the different site views. “How big is the property?”
“Two acres. I’ll leave half the land for the house and use the rest for the shop. Should be plenty since I’ll only be working on one car at a time.”
“What if your business takes off? You might need a storage building for cars waiting to be restored.”
“That’s this right here.” He pointed to a sketched-in square with dimensions but no detail. Moving his finger along, he continued. “This will be the painting shed, and this is a paved lot with room for ten cars. Twelve if you park ’em right.”
“What are you going to call it?”
That one stopped him in his tracks. “I haven’t thought about that.”
“Every business needs a name,” she pointed out as gently as she could. “If nothing else, you need to print something on your business cards.”
“I’ve been so focused on the building part of it, I haven’t had a chance to consider all that.” Leaning back, he crossed a boot over his knee with a frown. “Any ideas?”
Tess was struck by how readily he asked her for her opinion, as if he actually valued her input. That happened at the mill often enough these days, she’d gotten used to it. But coming from this fiercely independent man, it was another thing altogether. Humbled by his faith in her, she took her time coming up with a response.
Seeking inspiration, she mentally strolled through the area so many generations of local families had called home. The town with its quaint buildings and pretty central green, the miles of forest that led from there out to the mill that had produced the lumber used to build all these sturdy homes and businesses that had stood the test of time.
And in the distance, the Blue Ridge Mountains loomed over it all, rugged and beautiful from their uppermost peaks to the shadows of the lowest valley. Smiling at the vision in her head, she turned back to Heath. “How about Blue Ridge Classics?”
“Wow.” His stunned look spread into a broad grin. “That’s perfect. How’d you come up with it off the top of your head like that?”
“I’m not sure,” she admitted with a shrug. “It just popped in.”
“I think you missed your calling. With that kind of imagination, you should be a writer or something.”
He was closer to the truth than he knew, and she debated whether to continue their conversation or change the subject. Since he’d laid out his dreams for her, she decided there was no harm in doing the same herself. “I love to read, but I’m not much for creative writing. I’ve always been interested in advertising, though. I took some marketing classes in college, and I thought the whole industry was fascinating.”
“Why didn’t you go into that?”
“Too much work,” she confided with a sigh. “I just wanted the degree to keep my parents happy, so I went with psychology.”
“Knowing why people act the way they do is part of advertising, right?”
“I guess.”
“So you were just getting started,” he suggested in a helpful tone. “If you want to get serious about it, you can go back to school and take those classes you’re missing. When you’re done, you can use all those smarts you’ve got and make a nice career for yourself.”
“Do you have any idea how competitive that industry is? In LA, you can’t swing a cat without hitting an ad executive who’s hunting for a job.” For some reason, he grinned, and she demanded, “Did I say something funny?”
The grin widened, and he said, “Swing a cat. Hate to break this to you, magpie, but you’re turning into one of us country folk.”
“Wonderful,” she grumbled with a mock frown. She couldn’t keep it up in the face of his amusement, though, and she relented with a sigh. “Whatever. There’s worse things to be, I suppose.”
“I won’t argue with that.”
The twinkle was back in his eyes, but it had a different quality to it this time. Warmer, deeper, as if he meant that look to be especially for her. It was unsettling, and she did her best to break that intimate connection with him.
The trouble was, she couldn’t make herself look away. Desperate to regain her composure, she recalled the folder sitting on the table between them. Forcing herself to look at it instead of him, she said, “So, your pitch. I’m assuming since Bruce is the mayor, he’ll be running the meeting.”
“Right.”
Heath didn’t move, but his gaze was as intense as ever, and she sternly cautioned herself to stick with the project. She had a strong feeling that if she mentioned anything even remotely personal, things between them could slide out of her control in a heartbeat.
To her dismay, the thought of getting closer to Heath didn’t terrify her anymore. In fact, if he gave her the slightest hint that he was beginning to view her as more than a friend, she wasn’t sure she had the resolve to push him back into the nice, safe box she’d been keeping him in.
“Then I think your best opening is to bring up that beautiful Packard of his,” she suggested in her most professional tone. “People know how good you are with modern cars, but they might not realize you take on other projects, too. Everyone’s seen his car around town, and that will prove how serious you are about your business.”
“Great idea.” Jotting down a note, he refocused on her with genuine interest. “Then what?”
While she outlined a strategy for him to use, she was surprised at how easily the concepts and their execution came to her. The more they talked, the more she was leaning toward taking his advice about taking more classes. She could start out at the local community college to make sure she was headed in the right direction, and then sign up for some online courses offered by a larger school.
The irony of it was that her father would heartily approve of her going into advertising, but not for the reasons that made it so appealing to her. He’d value the money-making potential in that industry, not the creative aspects of it that she was so drawn to.
Because sadly, nothing in her old life had changed. The best thing she could do was leave it behind and move on.
“While I’m here,” Heath broke in, “I was wondering if you still need some help with your scarecrow?”
“All I can get. Jason came by with his truck earlier, dropped off three bales of straw and saluted on his way out. According to him,” she added in a sour tone, “Chelsea handled the whole thing on her own last year, and the boys aren’t exactly the artsy-craftsy types.”
Her gues
t laughed then abruptly stopped when she didn’t join in. His puzzled look gave way to understanding, and he said, “Insulting, huh?”
“I’d take it to heart if I didn’t know how busy he and Scott are, trying to take up some of the load for Paul so he can be home more. I thought about asking Chelsea for help with the design, but I’d hate for her to find out I put it off this long. It might stress her out more than she already is.”
His brow furrowed with genuine concern. “She and the baby are doing okay, though, right?”
“Some days are better than others.”
It wasn’t like her to be so open about problems, and the worry she heard in her voice made her cringe. Reaching over, Heath rested a comforting hand over hers. “We’re all praying for them, Tess. Every day that goes by, the baby’s a little bit stronger.”
“I know.” She began to well up and did her best to blink away the tears. “I just hope it’s enough.”
“You’re doing what you can to make things easier for Chelsea. Now you need to have a little faith.”
“I’m not good at that. Yet,” she added quickly, brushing at a tear that had broken free and was edging down her cheek. “I’m getting better, though.”
“Yeah, you are.” Giving her an encouraging smile, he got to his feet and held out his hand. “Meantime, a good distraction will help get your mind onto something else. What say we go build us a scarecrow?”
Realizing his suggestion was much better than fretting over something she had no control over, she gulped down her fear and stood up. His hand was within reach, and she debated the wisdom of accepting his kind gesture. While she was still hesitant to encourage him that way, part of her longed to tap into the strength that seemed to be built into this kindhearted man.