by Mia Ross
Tess was standing in front of a piece of aged timber that had been ripped in half lengthwise but was still nearly as tall as she was. “Everything is produced onsite by our sawyers and carpenters, using nothing but legacy equipment,” she was explaining to a guy in business attire who appeared to be taking notes. “The property goes back to just after the Civil War, when Jedediah Barrett settled here after serving with Robert E. Lee in the Army of Northern Virginia. When he saw the shape this area was in, it occurred to him that there would be a lot of rebuilding going on around here and no sawmill to provide the lumber.”
“And your family’s been in this spot ever since? Remarkable.”
Being a guy himself, Heath recognized that the comment wasn’t aimed at the Barrett family as much as Tess herself. The man’s voice sounded vaguely familiar, and Heath edged around to get a look at his face. When he recognized Tyler Green, the Donaldsons’ accomplished—and flirtatious—nephew, Heath’s hackles rose to full alert.
Ignoring the reason he’d come out here in the first place, he strolled over to reintroduce himself to the well-dressed freelancer. “Hey, Tyler. What brings you back here?”
Tyler looked surprised to see him there but hid his reaction with a quick smile. “A job. Tess asked me to do a proposal regarding some promotional work for the mill, and I couldn’t resist.”
The job or Tess? Heath was dying to ask. Instead, he said, “Yeah, she’s tough to say no to. I don’t remember you mentioning this idea to anyone,” he added with a sharp look at her.
“It’s a surprise. Tyler can get us national exposure through his network of contacts, and I think we should hire him to do a layout for us. It’s just the thing we need to fill in that dip in sales we were expecting to have between the holidays and next summer’s tourist season.”
The pride in her voice told him she had no clue that skirting around Paul and Chelsea was the worst thing she could possibly do. While he was trying to come up with a subtle way to point out her error in judgment, Tyler rushed in and ambushed him.
“We’ve already got things moving,” the ad man explained, offering Heath the slim digital tablet he’d been scribbling on. When Heath held up his filthy palms, Tyler didn’t seem fazed in the least. He spun the display and steadied it so Heath could get a better look at what they’d been concocting.
Hardly larger than the last book he’d read, the screen was filled with a splashy rendering of the old mill, with the creek in the foreground and “The Sawmill” rippling through the water in a flowing script apparently intended to mimic the current. He knew next to nothing about graphic design, but to Heath it looked like Tyler had taken a picture and used some program or other to doctor the photo and make it look like an abstract painting. Tyler tapped one of the links, and the view shifted to the outer yard, highlighting the deadly-looking saw Heath was more than slightly afraid of.
“This is just a start, of course, to give you an idea of how the eventual site would be configured,” Tyler explained in a polished tone that Heath suspected he’d rehearsed for use on his other clients. “We want to make sure we spotlight the most unique aspects of the business so people will remember it. Artwork like this will go a long way to setting the company apart from the competition.”
“The name is ‘Barrett’s Sawmill,’” Heath said, irked by being forced to state the obvious.
“To compete in bigger markets, this organization needs a fresh, new approach to just about everything it does. In my world, names are changed frequently for any number of reasons.”
Offended, Heath bristled at the designer’s condescending manner. Being more of a hands-on kind of guy, he might not be all that familiar with advertising, but he knew a hard sell when he heard one. Looking over their guest’s shoulder, he appealed to Tess. “Around here, things pretty much stay the same.”
“Including our flat bottom line,” she retorted in a clipped voice that warned him in no uncertain terms to back off and let the matter drop.
The mill didn’t belong to him, Heath reasoned, and that meant this wasn’t his fight. But he was fairly certain that if the rest of the Barretts knew what was being discussed here, they’d put on the brakes in a heartbeat.
Hoping to end up with the same result without embarrassing Tess, he approached the delicate task carefully. “You’ve put in quite a bit of work on this project already, Tyler. Your time must be pretty valuable.”
“My consultations are free of charge. Most of the clients I meet with sign on when they see for themselves how much my team can do for their company.”
So much for that tactic. Diplomacy was obviously not Heath’s strong point, so he went with something a bit more direct. Turning to Tess, he asked, “What’d Paul say when you floated this past him?”
“I told you,” she huffed impatiently. “I want it to be a surprise.”
“Sure, ’cause you don’t wanna hear what a bad idea this is.” He got the distinct impression that she was being intentionally difficult, and his temper was starting to simmer. Before their disagreement had a chance to snowball into an all-out fight, he stepped forward and quietly said, “Can I talk to you a minute?”
“You two go ahead,” Tyler answered smoothly before she could say anything. “I’ll just grab some inside photos and ideas for the print layout.”
“Thanks so much, Tyler,” she replied with what Heath deemed an overly friendly smile. “This shouldn’t take very long. I’ll be there in a sec.”
When he was out of earshot, she wheeled on Heath with a stormy expression. “What on earth is your problem?”
“I should be asking you the same thing,” he countered, folding his arms in a stubborn gesture. “You’re trying to make this into one of those glitzy stores folks go to and pay way more than they should because they think the stuff’s handmade. This furniture—” he pointed at the mill “—is custom from the floor up. It’s not a slick marketing scheme cooked up by some Ivy Leaguer who doesn’t know a socket from a screwdriver.”
After a couple seconds, she gave him one of those superior feminine looks any man worth his salt knew meant trouble. “You’re jealous.”
“Of what?”
“Tyler. He’s good-looking and successful, and he has some fabulous ideas for taking this place from being a local attraction to competing in a national market.”
“We have that already, with the online orders. Chelsea set up the website with a nice, rustic look that tells folks what this place is all about. The pictures are real and the descriptions are honest. People know that what they’re getting is solid custom furniture made the old-fashioned way.”
“What she did is very nice, but it’s not enough to grow the business,” Tess explained in a patient tone that made him feel like a four-year-old. “After the holidays, all the part-time workers get laid off, and they don’t get hired back until we need to restock for the summer tourist season. A campaign like this will help us even out the cash flow throughout the entire year.”
“Did you ever consider that those folks wanna have some time off to go fishing and camping with their families instead of working more?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffed. “They can still take a vacation to get away. But more hours here means they’ll make better money, and who doesn’t want that?”
Heath stared at her, stunned beyond words. His father would call it flabbergasted, he knew, but that didn’t help him process what he’d just heard coming from the lips of the woman he’d begun to think might actually be “the one.”
“You really believe that?” he asked, giving her a chance to reevaluate her position and see where she’d gone astray.
She gave him a look that made it plain she was baffled by his lack of understanding. “Most people do.”
“I’m not asking them. I’m asking you.”
“Well, then, yes, I believe
that. Part of the reason I want to stay here is to help make the mill more profitable. A more consistent income will mean less worry for everyone, including Paul and Chelsea. They have their own family to think about now, and that kind of security would mean a lot to them.”
“True enough, but there’s more to it than that.” Heath could tell his attempt at logic wasn’t making a dent with her. Nearly out of options, he switched to a more personal tack. “Do you remember me telling you this place isn’t about the bottom line?”
Flashing an impatient look at the mill house where Tyler was waiting for her, she sighed. “I guess I remember something like that.”
“It’s about tradition,” he repeated as patiently as he could manage. “And your family’s legacy. Now does it sound familiar?”
She didn’t respond, but the dark glare she nailed him with let him know he’d finally gotten through to her. “What’s your point?”
“Tyler’s plan might make sense for other businesses, but not this one. Once he finds out what’s going on, Paul’s gonna pull rank on you and put a stop to it. As good as your intentions are, he’ll never let you or anyone else destroy the character of this place. It meant too much to Will.”
“I’m trying to make it stronger,” she insisted, her eyes pleading with him to see her side. “Don’t you understand?”
“No, I don’t. But I’ll tell you what’s real clear to me right now.” Pausing, he thought once more before he said something he’d regret. Then again, it was the truth, and his gut was telling him she needed to hear it. Even though she’d probably hate him for it. “You keep telling me how different you are from your family in California. How they’re shallow and obsessed with their image instead of valuing what matters most.”
“That’s right. Money’s the most important thing to them.”
After a deep breath, he braced himself and forged ahead. “From where I’m standing, you look just like ’em.”
With that, he stalked away from her and climbed into his truck, his heart as near to broken as it had ever been. Not wanting to see her reaction, he pulled around the far side of the mill house and drove up the lane to the highway.
After getting so much fantastic news this morning, he’d been looking forward to celebrating the holidays with Tess. He’d envisioned explaining football to her on Thanksgiving and had even started pondering what he could give her for Christmas.
Now he wanted nothing more than to sink himself into his new business and forget he’d ever met her. If only it was that easy.
* * *
Who did Heath Weatherby think he was, anyway?
Furious and exasperated beyond words, Tess had managed to keep her composure and finish her session with Tyler as gracefully as she could. His quick wrap-up and promise to contact her next week was a professional red flag. He hadn’t mentioned it directly, but only a complete idiot could have missed her swift turn of mood from enthusiastic to one step short of homicidal.
After walking him out, she returned to the office and pounded invoices with her Paid stamp with more vigor than was strictly necessary. The slamming sound and bright red ink suited her current frame of mind perfectly, and she was sorry when the pile was gone. Unfortunately, her anger was still humming, and she snatched some blank paper from the printer so she could keep going.
“Is this a bad time?”
Hearing Jenna’s voice, Tess didn’t even bother to look up. “Yes.”
“Do you want me to come back later?”
“Don’t care.” Realizing she sounded like a pouting toddler, Tess paused in midstamp and gave her friend a frustrated look. “Men are such a pain.”
“Tell me about it.” Sprawling out on the old settee by the window, Jenna grinned over at her. “Seriously, tell me. Scott and Jason are dying of thirst back there, but they’re afraid to come out front to get some water.”
“How do you know that?” Jenna held up her cell phone, and Tess realized Scott must have texted his wife with an SOS. “What a couple of babies.”
“Never underestimate a Barrett in full temper. Even bears cross the road to avoid Scott in the morning.” Jenna’s icy blue eyes crackled with humor, making it clear she wasn’t the least bit intimidated by Tess’s shifting moods, no matter how nasty they happened to be.
“You’d think they’d be able to take it, then.”
“Sure, but when the shots are aimed at them, they crumble. Why do you think all those big, strapping men are still afraid of their mom?”
“I see what you mean,” Tess conceded with a sigh. When her cousins appeared in the wide doorway that led to the saws, she waved them through. “Storm’s over. Come on in.”
“You’re sure?” Jason asked. When she nodded, he made a beeline for the fridge in the seating area. “Man, and I thought Amy had a bad side.”
“Oo, I’m telling,” Jenna teased. When he glowered at her, she stuck her tongue out in reply. “We Barrett women have to stick together. You guys outnumber us, so it’s our only chance.”
Scott caught the water bottle Jason tossed him and grinned over at his wife. “Only ’cause we let you think you have a chance. If we ever gang up on you, you’re toast.”
“You’d have to agree on something first,” Tess chimed in, enjoying the distraction from her dust-up with Heath. It had shaken her more than she cared to admit, and she wasn’t quite sure what to do about it. Their sweet encounter that morning was a distant memory, and now that she’d had time to simmer down, she wished there was a way to rewind her day to that moment and erase all the bad stuff that had come later.
“She’s got a point there,” Jason acknowledged as they headed back through the door. Tess assumed the screeching slam that followed was Scott’s way of ending their argument.
Turning to her guest, she shook her head. “How do you put up with him, anyway?”
“Oh, he’s got his good points and bad points, just like anyone else. Are you gonna tell me what happened with Heath, or do I get to play twenty questions?”
Tess suspected it wouldn’t take Jenna long to figure out the gist for herself, so she decided it was best to come clean. After she’d nutshelled the problem, she asked, “What do you think?”
“I think you’re leaving something out. Like what were you thinking, inviting Tyler Green, of all people, to do this job?”
“What do you mean of all people? Tyler’s company does excellent work, for plenty of clients much bigger than us. The rate he quoted was a bargain considering how much they do.”
“The rate he quoted you,” Jenna commented with obvious disdain. “I’m sure he gave you the I’d-like-to-date-you number.”
Jenna had traveled all over the country and met hundreds of people, some nice and others not so much. Still, Tess was shocked by her friend’s cynicism. “It wasn’t like that at all.”
“Really? You didn’t ask yourself why a guy who does promo for big-time sports teams made a detour back through teeny, tiny Barrett’s Mill on his way to his swanky high-rise office in Chicago?”
“Well, no,” Tess admitted, feeling more than a little foolish that she hadn’t put his motives together for herself. “He seemed interested in the mill, not me.”
“Don’t blame yourself. He’s in advertising, and he creates illusions for a living. If you ask me, Heath saw what was going on and wasn’t having any of it. He’s crazy about you, Tess, and it’d make him nuts to think someone like Tyler was working you over.”
That was only half of the problem, Tess recognized, but she wasn’t ready to confide the rest to anyone. Because while Jenna had been setting her straight, she’d been rolling what Heath had said around in her head. She still didn’t appreciate most of it, but her calmer perspective made it possible for her to understand what he’d been trying so desperately to warn her about.
Only when that had f
ailed had he gotten tough. He’d always been so good to her that it had caught her off guard, and her knee-jerk reaction had been to snarl back and defend what she honestly felt was a viable strategy for putting the family business on sturdier financial ground.
She knew that if anyone would see her point of view, it would be the very pragmatic woman sitting across from her. “Can I ask your opinion on something?”
“Shoot.”
She outlined the promotional campaign she and Tyler had discussed then showed Jenna the graphics he’d printed out for her before leaving. Giving them a cursory glance, she frowned over at Tess. “Change the name? Are you insane?”
“It was just an idea.” Jenna’s harsh reaction mirrored Heath’s, and Tess was beginning to wonder if she was in the wrong on this one. “We don’t have to do it.”
Standing, Jenna crumpled the paper in her fist and made an overhead shot into the recycling bin. “You shouldn’t do any of this. And if you’re smart, you’ll make sure Paul never hears about what went on today.”
Having delivered her verdict, the normally chipper artist spun on her paint-spattered sneakers and headed for the exit. When the screen door banged shut behind her, Tess was left alone to ponder the very real possibility that not only had Tyler Green played her, she’d also come dangerously close to making a horrible business decision. Obviously, Paul had veto power on anything she proposed, but if Jenna and Heath were right, Tess would have risked losing her cousin’s respect. These days that meant more to her than anything.
Feeling more than a little unnerved by what had gone on, she wandered over to peer out the front window, hoping to find something to get her grounded again. The view calmed her almost instantly, and she glanced over at the venerable old mill truck in its customary parking spot under a nearly bare oak tree.
In her memory, she heard Heath’s voice: Around here, things pretty much stay the same.
Feeling antsy, she walked out onto the front porch for some fresh air. She let her gaze travel through the yard to the meandering creek, where she picked up the faint trail Boyd took when he loped upstream to visit Jenna at her studio. The boys had hit a lull in their sawing, and the air around her took on a tranquil quality she’d only ever experienced out here in the woods.