Blue Ridge Reunion

by Mia Ross

  “My degree’s in finance,” she reminded him primly, “not marketing.”

  “So? Go back to school and get another one. Or set yourself up a sideline helping out small-business owners who’re good with tools but not computers.” Resting his arms on her desk, he added a wry grin. “Y’know, like me.”

  “Right,” she parried with a laugh. “That’s just what I need—more clients like you.”

  “Hey, I’m not so bad.”

  His wounded look was so convincing she couldn’t resist ruffling his hair. “I suppose not. When you’re not being impossible, you’re almost bearable.”

  He chuckled. “I hate to tell you this, but that’s the nicest thing a woman’s said to me in a long time.”

  “I have no trouble believing that.” She did her best to nail him with a haughty look, but it had no effect on him whatsoever, and she ended up smiling instead. “I really don’t get to you, do I?”

  His grin faded, mellowing into a pensive expression she’d seldom noticed on his face. “Only when you wear your hair down.”

  Flabbergasted didn’t cover her reaction to that one. She searched his eyes for a sign that he was yanking her chain, but all she found was warm, honest admiration.

  “I’ve been wondering something,” he confided.

  “Really? What’s that?”

  “If you’d like to go to the reunion with me. I mean, we’re both going anyway, so it’d be fun. Unless you’re going with someone else,” he added hastily.

  “Not yet.” She let that hang in the air for a few seconds, then ended the suspense with a laugh. “Sure, I’ll go with you. Thanks for asking.”

  “No problem.” They were still grinning at each other when a familiar luxury sedan glided up to the millhouse and parked near the front porch. Boyd had been fast asleep under her desk, but the sound of the engine roused him, and he hopped up on the settee to stare out the window. His motion caught Daisy’s attention and she leaped onto the sofa, scrambling up his back to the windowsill. Her fur spiked, and she arched her spine in an aggressive stance Chelsea had never seen before. Clearly spooked, she scrambled down and wedged herself under the stove, the white tip of her tail the only evidence that a cat had been there a moment ago.

  “Yeah,” Paul muttered. “That’s how I feel around your dad, too.”

  “Well, get over it,” Chelsea admonished him sternly. “I’m sure he’s finishing up a call, but he probably won’t be long. Put on your company manners.”

  She wished he had a clean shirt to put on, too, but there was nothing she could do about that now. Instead, she opened a drawer and swept the mess on her desk into it so her father wouldn’t see what a slob she’d become. Closing the web program, she tried to pull up a spreadsheet that tracked the financials on the mill project but somehow managed to hit the shutdown icon instead.

  “No, no, no,” she muttered through clenched teeth, banging the button on her track pad as if that would help.

  To her astonishment, Paul’s hand closed over hers and pulled it away. When she glared up at him, he met her anger with calm reassurance. “That won’t make it go any faster, you know.”

  “You don’t understand,” she all but whined.

  “I understand your dad’s here,” he replied smoothly, resting her hand against his chest. “And you’re shaking like a leaf.”

  For some insane reason, the sensation of his heart beating under her palm made her feel better. Blinking up at him, she saw compassion in his dark eyes, along with something else she couldn’t quite identify. She’d seen them twinkle plenty of times, in amusement or mischief, depending on the situation. This was something entirely different, and instinct told her it was meant especially for her.

  Fortunately, her laptop’s start-up chime broke the strange mood that had taken over her office, and she backed away from him. Avoiding his gaze, she said, “I’m fine. Could you make sure the mill’s ready for an inspection?”

  “Are you serious? The guys bugged outta here like a tornado was coming, and it’s a mess back there.”

  “I mean, set something up so Dad can see the saws working,” she clarified while she opened the mercifully cooperative spreadsheet. “That’s why he’s here, after all.”

  Paul didn’t respond, and she was afraid she’d offended him. When she glanced over, he shook his head with a wry grin. “You’re really terrified of disappointing him, aren’t you?”

  “You can psychoanalyze me later,” she snapped, pointing toward the business end of the mill. “For now, get that monster in gear so we can wow him. Please.”

  The last word was an afterthought, but apparently that was what he needed to get him moving. Giving her one of those knee-weakening grins, he ticked her nose with his finger. “Well, since you said ‘please’...”

  He sauntered out and closed the door behind him. Once they got through her father’s visit, she vowed, she’d give Paul Barrett a very large—and very loud—piece of her mind. But right now she had bigger problems.

  And they were walking through the front door.

  * * *

  Despite his expertly tailored suit and designer shoes, Theo Barnes was one tough customer. In fact, Paul mused while they continued their impromptu tour, this all-business banker would’ve given his former employer—a rugged lumber boss—a run for his money. He’d never thought about it before, but now it made sense that the man’s eyes were green. Every other word out of his mouth was punctuated by dollar signs.

  His obsession with numbers reminded Paul of Chelsea when they’d first started working together, and for the first time he recognized how far she’d come to meet him in the middle and make their current partnership a success. Her father was another story. Set in his ways, convinced he was right, he wasn’t someone Paul could charm into trying another approach.

  So he didn’t even bother trying. Instead, when Theo asked him a direct question, he answered it honestly. Otherwise, he kept his mouth shut. Tense wasn’t the word for the normally casual atmosphere inside the millhouse. Even outgoing Boyd was hiding under the lobby bench, clearly hoping they’d forget about him.

  Unfortunately, Paul didn’t have that option, but he decided he’d done his best to defuse some of the tension that had accompanied their surprise visitor. He handed out ear protection and demonstrated how the restored waterwheel powered the saws. Once he’d shut everything down, he waited while they removed their headphones. He knew he’d done well with the resources at hand, and any other day, that would be enough for him. But he had to admit, he was more than a little anxious to hear what the man had to say.

  When the whirring finally stopped, Theo swept Paul’s domain with an assessing look. “It’s remarkable how far you’ve gotten on such a small loan. With hiring a crew and purchasing such expensive raw material, how have you managed it?”

  “Well, first off, Chelsea doesn’t let me buy a bucket of nails without a purchase order and a good reason.” Flashing her a grin, he was pleased to get a faint version of her usual smile in return. “Beyond that, the crew’s volunteer, at least for now. When we get up and running, I’ll be able to pay them for a few hours here and there. Except for my brother and me, the guys are retired, so they don’t want to do too much anyway. Mostly, they enjoy being back here, just like I do.”

  “You’re still convinced you’ll be producing furniture by September?”

  “Yes, sir,” Paul answered, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt. The truth was, they had to be ready by then. Taking advantage of the holiday shopping season was his only chance to make this work in time for Granddad to see it. This time next year, it wouldn’t matter anymore.

  Theo cast a dubious look around the still-evolving work space, and Paul couldn’t blame him. To an outsider, the mill area must appear to be nothing more than a collection of outdated machinery and spare parts. To him, it was already productive, if not exactly efficient.

  Frowning, the banker shook his head. “You’ve made good progress, but you ha
ve a very small staff, and they’re only here part-time. It’s hard to believe you’ll have anything to sell before the end of this year.”

  “Actually,” Chelsea said, “Paul finished the first piece yesterday, completely manufactured on-site with legacy equipment. Would you like to see it?”

  The description of his process was straight out of the promotional material she’d reviewed with him earlier, and Paul couldn’t miss the hint of pride in her voice. Whatever the reason, he was pleased to see some of her spunk coming back. He didn’t understand why, but the fact that she felt some ownership of the project made him happier than if it had been his alone.

  While she held her father’s gaze, disapproval showed on his face, and Paul got the feeling there was more going on here than he understood. One thing was obvious, even to him: she was struggling with something. Her voice was calm, but the tension in her jaw told him she was putting in a lot of effort to remain composed in front of her dad.

  Hoping to ease some of the strain for her, Paul spoke up. “Why don’t you and I take a look at it, sir? Chelsea’s got numbers to crunch out front.”

  “They can wait,” she retorted in a no-nonsense tone only a fool would mess with. As if he hadn’t gotten the message from that, her eyes snapped their own warning, and he wisely chose to go along.

  “Fine by me.” Motioning them toward the newly reclaimed back space, he explained, “Chelsea suggested we should make a real statement with our first piece. After ripping down some of our hundred-and-twenty-year-old oak, I made it into a dining table that’ll seat fourteen people for the holidays.”

  When they stepped inside, he flipped the light switch and prayed Jason’s newly installed can lights would all come on. They did, and he sent up a grateful look for the divine help. Because quite honestly, he hadn’t tested them until just now. Apparently Chelsea knew that, because she gave him a subtle thumbs-up from the doorway. Quick as it was, the gesture made him feel as though he’d scored a winning goal for the team.

  Their team, he realized with fresh appreciation for what they’d accomplished. Together, they’d nailed down financing, assembled a crew and worked like dogs to bring the abandoned mill to where it stood right now. They had only one table to show for it, but it was stunning. He’d kept it simple, using a matte finish to allow the natural beauty of the wood to shine through. Beneath the soft lighting, the hand-rubbed surface gleamed with a solid, ageless feel perfectly suited to its current surroundings.

  “It’s quite something,” Theo acknowledged, walking around the table to view it from all angles. “How much do you think it will bring in?”

  “I haven’t gotten that far,” Paul admitted. When he got a sharp look from the banker, he quickly went on. “You know a lot more about custom-made furniture than me. What do you think it’s worth?”

  Chelsea’s slight nod told him he’d handled the question well, and he waited while Theo considered the unique table. When he finally named a figure, Paul came close to swallowing his tongue. Once he trusted himself to speak normally, he said, “That should work.”

  “I’d say so,” Theo replied with an unexpected laugh. “Of course, that’s the price for a CEO who’s furnishing his lodge in Aspen and wants everything to be one of a kind. Around here, it wouldn’t bring nearly that much.”

  “Huh.” Father and daughter pinned him with curious stares, and he hunted for something more intelligent to say. “That makes sense, I guess.”

  “And of course, it’s missing those fourteen chairs, isn’t it?”

  “Uh-huh.” Suddenly, Paul seemed to be at a loss for words, and he gave himself a mental kick. Fortunately, his brain recovered and rapidly shifted gears into problem-solving mode. “I was thinking two armchairs, with two spindle-back benches on each side.”

  “Individual seating is better for most high-end buyers,” Theo pointed out, launching into a series of suggestions for how they should be made.

  Paul wasn’t a detail person, and he sent Chelsea an SOS kind of look. Judging by her polite but closed-off expression, she had no intention of stepping into this conversation, and he was on his own. He did his best to absorb what Theo was telling him, nodding here and there to give the appearance of understanding. The truth was, as soon as this very intense man left, Paul was taking a long, quiet walk in the woods.

  Now he understood why Chelsea had been so timid in high school. Raised by a father who was quick to tell others what to do, she could either obey him or face a stern lecture about what she should’ve done differently. Even now, she wasn’t exactly flexible, but she was a lot more willing to compromise than she’d been when they’d first started. Having experienced Theo’s hammering treatment firsthand, Paul was even more impressed by her turnaround.

  They were on their way back to the lobby when Theo casually said, “Chelsea, our board meeting is on Saturday at one, after we close for the day.”

  It wasn’t an invitation, and a quick glance made it clear she didn’t think much of his commanding tone. Theo expected her to attend that meeting, regardless of any other plans she might have made, and the man’s high-handed attitude got Paul’s hackles up.

  Hoping to appear only mildly interested, he summoned a grin. “You’re kidding, right? You have meetings on the weekend?”

  “Yes, we do,” Theo replied. “That way our administrative business doesn’t interfere with our customers’ needs.”

  What about your employees? Paul was dying to say, but he managed to keep his mouth shut. Coming from an outsider, the comment would only cause trouble. While he couldn’t care less what this man thought of him personally, he was smart enough to recognize that being in Theo’s good graces was crucial to keeping the flow of money coming from Shenandoah Bank.

  While he struggled to rein in his own temper, he was astounded to hear Chelsea say, “I can’t make it this time, Dad. I didn’t hear about it until just now, and I have a commitment on Saturday.”

  Theo’s shocked reaction made it clear he hadn’t anticipated she would refuse, and Paul guessed it was the first time his daughter had ever disobeyed him. Unfortunately, his piercing eyes swung to Paul with a glare that could’ve blasted through solid steel. How he knew her plans included Paul was beyond him, but he carefully kept his expression neutral. He didn’t want to appear to be gloating, but looking intimidated would be even worse.

  After a long, uncomfortable staring contest, Theo shifted back to her. “I’m sure you can find a way to do both.”

  Without hesitation, she shook her head. “Our ten-year high school reunion is that night, and Paul invited me to go with him. I already said yes, and I’m not backing out now.”

  The tension Paul had noticed earlier was nothing compared to what crackled in the air now. It was so quiet he thought he could hear Boyd’s stomach rumbling for lunch.

  Finally, Theo’s features creased with something that resembled acceptance and he offered his hand to Paul. “Thank you for taking time out of your schedule to give me a tour. Enjoy your weekend.”

  Sending his daughter a pained look, he went through the entryway and out to his car without breaking stride. Once the taillights were out of sight, Paul turned to Chelsea with a low whistle. “Whoa. I’m impressed.”

  “Yeah,” she replied with a shaky laugh. “Me, too. I usually just go along with what he wants, so I’ve never done anything like that in my life. I’m not sure what came over me.”

  “Whatever it was, I’m glad you went with it,” Paul assured her quickly. “You shouldn’t let anyone push you around like that, not even your dad.”

  “I guess.”

  He could see she was regretting her tough stand, and he figured it might help to get all her fears out in the open so she could confront them and move ahead. “How do you think it’ll play later on?”

  “Not well. But since I’ve been here, I’ve realized it’s time for me to live my own life, not the one he wants for me. By the time I get back to Roanoke he’ll either have accepted that or not.”<
br />
  He’d done the same with his parents years ago, and he understood how much courage it took to blaze your own trail. Especially when the man you were rebelling against held your career in his manicured hands. “Sounds pretty brave to me. You’ve come a long way.”

  She hummed in reply, setting off his internal alarm. “What’s wrong?”

  “Maybe nothing, but I’ve got a bad feeling.”

  “Because of your dad?” Paul could relate to that. Theo Barnes had given him the chills ever since he was a kid.

  Staring at his empty parking spot, she nodded. “He never gives up that easily, and it makes me wonder if he’s up to something.”

  “With you or the mill?”

  “I don’t know,” she confided with a frown. “But whatever it is, you can bank on it being good for him.”

  Paul chuckled to break the mood. “Bank on it. I get it.”

  That got him an irritated glare. “I wasn’t trying to make a joke, Paul.”

  “I know,” he answered smoothly. “That’s what makes it funny.”

  “It’s not—”

  “Instead of fighting with me, why don’t we eat while you show me the rest of the new website?”

  She opened her mouth to protest, but he pretended not to notice as he motioned for her to go into her office ahead of him. Rolling those gorgeous green eyes, she muttered something about men under her breath but followed his suggestion. As soon as Paul cracked open the fridge, their pets came running to claim their share of the subs he pulled out. Boyd was fairly polite about it, but the kitten stood on her hind legs, pawing his jeans with a pitiful meow.

  “You scrounge,” he chided the hopeful-looking hound. “You taught her to do that.”

  “Actually, that’s my fault,” Chelsea corrected him with a grin. “She loves people food, and it’s nice to have company when I’m eating. I probably feed her too much of it, but she’s so cute, I can’t resist.”

  Flinging a piece of ham over to Boyd, he broke a corner off his Swiss cheese for Daisy and joined Chelsea at her desk. While they ate and chatted about promotion and other things he knew absolutely nothing about, Paul put Theo and his questionable motivations out of his mind. He wasn’t about to spoil a pleasant lunch break with Chelsea worrying about things that were out of his control.