The Winter Before

by Karen Crompton

  “We’re going,” he said dryly, scraping the seat back as he stood. “But I’m not paying for breakfast. I didn’t even get to eat it.”

  “Just get out.”

  Kyle’s jaw shifted, the mask of humor he’d worn just seconds before suddenly fell away like it had never existed. He and Riley strode across the bakery toward the side door, but not before Kyle deliberately knocked over a canister of sugar that was sitting in the middle of a nearby table. The glass canister rolled off the table and broke when it hit the floor, brown sugar and glass scattering like hungry ants from a nest.

  Mrs. Parker shook her head, tutting under her breath as she watched the door swing shut behind them.

  “Damn fool,” she grumbled. “I wish I could stop him coming in here. I really do, honey. I know it’s hard for you, having to see him around town, especially after—”

  “Mom, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

  Mrs. Parker sighed softly as she slid the tray of donuts into the display cabinet at the side window. “How about you finish up early today?”

  “Why?”

  “Why not?”

  “I’ll clean up this mess first.”

  “No, leave it. I’ll have Jerry take care of it. He was twenty minutes late this morning. He owes me one.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Go.”

  Olivia didn’t hesitate. She untied her apron and folded it in half. Throwing it behind the cashier stand, she began digging around in her back pocket. “Actually, that would be great. There are a few things I need to do this morning. Places to go, people to see.”

  Mrs. Parker smiled and kissed her daughter’s cheek. “Go, quickly. Before your father notices you’re missing. I love him dearly, but I swear that man’s as stubborn as a Texan Long-Horn when he wants to be.”

  “Thanks, Mom. I really appreciate it.”

  Abe Hathaway strode into the hardware store with his woolen flat-cap pulled down tight around his ears.

  The temperature in Woodlake had dropped significantly overnight, the coming winter predicted to be one of the coldest on record, or so he’d heard somewhere along the way.

  He wasn’t usually one to get caught up with the flapping mouths of Woodlake, the chatterboxes that had nothing better to do with their time than gather in clusters in the square, under the pretense of being concerned, or offering a helping hand. But from time to time—when he didn’t have his wits about him, wasn’t paying close enough attention—he’d find himself cornered by some well-doer who felt the need to catch him up on all the local goings-on.

  Abe stood in the doorway a moment, hanging his coat up on the rack and stomping his boots on the straw mat. He’d been out making deliveries all morning, and with the amount of work they still had to do—that being predominately putting the finishing touches on the Flannigan job, not to mention all the work they still had on the books scheduled for the upcoming Woodlake Winter Festival—he was pleased to be out of the frosty air, and back at the store to make a start on things.

  Isaac glanced up from the cluttered workbench at the sound of the door opening and closing. He’d spent the best part of the morning staining the wedding arbor, while Caroline worked the front of the store.

  It wasn’t busy though, and they hadn’t had a single customer through the doors for a good hour or more.

  “That you, boss?” he called.

  “Yeah, it’s me,” replied Abe, shaking his head at the word boss. He kissed his wife, and then walked out back toward the arbor, running his fingers over the smooth surface of the wood, admiring Isaac’s work. “This is some mighty fine craftsmanship. Another coat should just about do it.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’ll help you stack it out back to dry. And then we’ll get another coat on it tomorrow. Friday we’ll give it a final sand. And then we’ll load it into your truck first thing Saturday morning.”

  The small bell chimed again, and Abe and Isaac both glanced around the wall to find Olivia Parker walking through the doorway, preoccupied by something in her hands. The chilly wind caught her scarf and hair, and she clutched at the front of her coat as she hurried inside out of the cold.

  The little furrow of her brows caught Isaac’s attention.

  He didn’t know what to make of the woman. A muscle in his cheek twitched as he watched her.

  “Come in, come in,” called Caroline, her voice a sweet sing-song of sounds. “Close the door though; it’s nippy out there today.”

  Olivia waved a small wave, and Isaac ducked his head, disappearing behind the wall again before she noticed him standing there.

  “What can I help you with?” asked Caroline.

  “I’ve got some jobs that need doing,” Olivia replied, still staring down at the list like it was some advanced mathematical problem she couldn’t solve. “But I have no idea where to start. Do you think you might point me in the right direction?”

  Abe chuckled as he strode from the backroom, past Isaac, and headed toward the front of the store. “Give us a look at this list of yours, and I’ll see what we can do for you.”

  Caroline patted Olivia gently on the shoulder before she went back to stocking shelves, and Olivia handed Abe the list, letting him take his time to peruse it.

  “These are the jobs I want to start with,” she said, pointing to the top of the notepaper. “But I have no idea where to begin. A little guidance would be much appreciated.”

  Abe’s eyes flicked over the page, his lips puckering into what looked like a fish-face while he thought things through. After a few moments, he nodded and then grabbed a pen from a rusty tin-can sitting behind the cash register.

  “I’ve got the timber you’ll need for the kitchen shelves out back. I can cut them to size, no worries at all. You’ll want nails, screws, and a couple of brackets. A tube of wood glue, for sure. You’ve got a drill, right?”

  Olivia stared back at him, blankly.

  Abe laughed and gestured for Olivia to follow him. “Come with me, looks like we’ll be starting from scratch.” He glanced back down at the list again, headed to the aisle where the screws, nuts and bolts were kept.

  Grabbing a packet from the rack, he paused, reading the back, mulling things over in his head. Then he put them back again and grabbed the next size up. “These will do the job. I’ve got everything you’ll need to strip the wallpaper. And I reckon I’ve got just enough carpet cleaner to get you through. What I don’t have on the shelves, I can have ordered in by the end of the week.”

  “Thank you.”

  Isaac took a small step forward again, just enough so that he was peering around the corner of the wall, undetected. His eyes did a slow sweep of Olivia’s face. She looked younger today without so much makeup on. Innocent. Vulnerable. He felt a sharp sting in his chest and he rubbed his hand over the muscle. He must have overdone it on his run last night.

  “Don’t get too carried away,” said Abe. “The paint is a different story altogether. I don’t carry it as a rule, too much wastage and not enough demand.”

  Olivia’s shoulders fell. Painting the walls was the one thing she felt confident she could do herself. She’d helped her parents repaint the bakery a few years back and she’d enjoyed it more than she probably should have. It was very therapeutic, as a matter of fact.

  “Oh, really?”

  “Yep, I special order the paint in from Williamstown. There’s a color chart they loan us on occasion, but it was left on the truck by accident last delivery. There are a gazillion different colors to choose from, you’d be lost without that chart to guide you. I’ll pick it up again for you next time I’m…”

  Abe suddenly hesitated, his head tipped off to one side like he was thinking things through, or maybe he was hatching a plan. A devilish thought sprung to his mind and he took a deep breath before he spoke. He knew he’d be in the shit for it later, but what the hell.

  “Actually, speaking of Williamstown…”

  “Yeah?”

 
; “Isaac’s headed there Saturday morning. Maybe you could hitch a ride with him? It’s a bit of a trip and I’m sure he’d appreciate the company.”

  A loud clang suddenly sounded from the back of the store.

  Olivia spun on her toes, startled by the unexpected sound, and when she looked up, she found Isaac standing in the doorway.

  His huge frame filled the entire space so that she struggled to see anything behind him. Their eyes snagged across the store, his expression sour, frowning like always. But this time he looked different. Shadows shifted over his eyes, making them darker than she’d ever seen them before, and his upper lip was curled on a peculiar angle, making it abundantly clear what he thought of the idea.

  Olivia took a step back. “Oh, no… I couldn’t possibly—”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, of course you can,” insisted Abe with a small grin. “It’s mostly highway. A long, boring drive. You’ll be doing him a huge favor.” Abe nodded his head like he already had it all sorted. “You can take a look at the color chart while you’re there, and place an order all on the same day. It’s a win, win.”

  Isaac simply stared.

  He was going to kill Abe. What kind of sick game was he playing at? He swallowed hard, the motion painful as he watched Olivia internally debating her choice.

  “Reckon five liters should do the kitchen,” added Abe, casually crossing his arms. “And the dining room too. If you want more of the same color later on, they can knock up a custom order and deliver it when they come to town next. It’ll save you a week or more in waiting time, and that way you can make a start on things before the cold weather really sets in. Ever tried painting while it’s snowing? Darn walls won’t dry for a month.” Abe shook his head, wisdom, and sneakiness hidden in his words. “And besides, I’m the boss. I get what I want. Ain’t that right, Isaac?”

  Isaac’s gaze shifted from Olivia to Abe, back and forth, so many times he suddenly felt dizzy. He swallowed again; his throat had a lump in it that seemed to grow in size the more Abe spoke.

  What was he supposed to say?

  He expelled noisily, his chest lifting and falling on a breath that belied the control he was trying to emanate. After a moment, he glanced back at Olivia and said, “I’m leaving at seven. Don’t be late.”

  Isaac’s answers were always so clipped, straight to the point, and Olivia tried her hardest to ignore the way her belly tightened at the gruff sound of his voice.

  She nodded quickly. “I won’t.”

  Their gaze locked for one intense moment, his eyes shards of ice, a look of warning perhaps—but it was a moment Olivia wanted to pause in time, and rewind, so that she might relive it over and over again.

  Breaking the spell, Isaac swiftly looked away. His hands opened and closed at his sides like he was trying to thwart off the cold.

  And then he disappeared out the back door, as if he couldn’t get away fast enough.

  It had been four days since Olivia last saw Isaac.

  She’d worked each morning at the bakery right across the street from him, but he’d not once ventured out into the front of the hardware store. And she’d know. It hadn’t been her intention, of course, but she found her eyes wandering and her thoughts caught up with the comings and goings of Hathaway’s in a way she never had before.

  Isaac had kept a low profile at Briar’s Creek, too. His truck had been parked in the barn of a night, but the curtains had remained tightly shut and the lights had been switched off at an hour she considered far too early for a grown man to be heading to bed.

  Olivia wasn’t stupid.

  She got the feeling Isaac was doing it deliberately, to send her a message, to keep her away. And that didn’t surprise her at all.

  She stood on the edge of the sidewalk early Saturday morning, holding two takeaway coffee cups in her hands. The air was crisp but the sun had risen without too much cloud, and it wasn’t quite as cold as it had been the past few days.

  The engine of Isaac’s truck rumbled loudly as it rounded the corner, before coming to a stop along the curb right in front of her.

  She bent slightly to peer at him through the open passenger window.

  He was wearing khakis and a red and black buffalo print flannel shirt that hung loosely over the top of his trousers. With eyes trained firmly on the street ahead, the ticcing of his jaw was clearly visible beneath what appeared to be a freshly washed mane of dark hair. It was damp, long wavy strands hanging down each side of his face.

  “You’re late,” he muttered.

  That was his greeting. Nothing more, nothing else. No good morning or how are you? Nope. Nothing.

  Apparently it was going to be a very long day.

  Olivia heard the affront in his voice, the biting tone that he didn’t even attempt to disguise, but she didn’t care. She’d lay awake for hours the previous evening, thinking things through, and she’d already made it her mission to unlock the vault that was Isaac Stone.

  And if that meant being as blunt and straightforward with him, as he was with her, then so be it.

  “No. I’m not.”

  “Yes. You are.”

  She shook her head. “Nuh-uh.”

  Olivia watched Isaac’s fists clench tightly around the steering wheel. She caught the flash of black in his eyes as he glanced quickly across at her through the rolled-down window. “Are you always so stubborn?”

  “Are you always so rude?”

  “Yes.”

  “And… that doesn’t bother you? Doesn’t make you think that maybe, just maybe, you could be a little nicer to people sometimes when they haven’t done anything to you?”

  Isaac’s hands fell heavily to his lap and Olivia thought she heard him laugh under his breath, a sarcastic scoff that spoke volumes, but she couldn’t be sure. It was so quick, so mumbled that she might have been mistaken.

  He stretched across the front of the truck and pulled the door handle, shoving it hard enough so that it opened widely onto the sidewalk. “Get in. We’re wasting time.”

  “I got us coffee.” Olivia held up the two cups she was holding, as if pointing out the obvious would soften his rough exterior. “If that’s alright with you, Mr. Grumpy Pants.”

  Olivia mumbled the last part, but Isaac heard her.

  His lips twisted like he was going to say something sharp in response, but he chose not to, deliberately keeping his features smooth as he waited for her to climb up into the truck.

  It was a less than graceful entrance as she tried to balance the coffee cups, and her handbag on her shoulder, while climbing up and shuffling in sideways. But she eventually made it all the way in and placed the cups down carefully into the cup holders between the two front seats. She swiveled around to pull the door closed behind her and then turned and faced him again.

  Isaac glanced down at the coffee.

  “I wasn’t sure how you take it.” Olivia paused, rummaging around in her handbag, digging out the handful of sugar packets, creamers, and wooden stirrers she’d stuffed in there earlier at the bakery. “I can fix it for you while you drive. And just for the record, I was right on time. You were early.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Isaac’s voice was a low rumble. He was hyper-aware that with Olivia sitting in the passenger seat, his scars were more visible to her this way. They were on display behind the wall he’d created with his long hair, and the patchy beard he used to try and disguise his imperfections. But there was something about the candid way she spoke to him, the relaxed way she looked at him, that made him less aware of the way he looked, and more aware of the way she looked.

  She was pretty.

  There was no point denying that obvious fact. But she was kind of a smart-ass too, and he wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about that.

  Olivia slipped her seat belt over her shoulder as the truck idled. Dressed in her favorite Converse sneakers, skinny black jeans, and an oversized white sweater, she crossed her legs, leaning back into the seat.

/>   “Yes, you were. I watched you lap the square from the bakery window while I was ordering the coffee,” she said, nonchalantly. “I checked my watch. It was only a quarter to seven. Like I said, you were early.” She lowered her head, slamming her brows together, and then scrunched up her mouth into a tight, angry scowl. “You drive around like this. Did you know that?”

  Isaac stared at Olivia, completely dumbfounded.

  He didn’t say anything for a really long time, and Olivia wondered if she’d gone too far. She wondered if perhaps he’d never truly been socialized, never been exposed to human interactions the way others had. And then she silently reprimanded herself for making the poor man sound like a puppy who’d never properly been house trained. She despised people who judged others, and there she was doing that very thing.

  “So, are we actually going to Williamstown? Or are we just going to sit here all day talking about it?”

  Isaac’s eyes wandered south for a split second. It was just a brief glimpse at Olivia’s slim legs, but then he looked away again just as quickly, the way you might look at the sun right before realizing your mistake, blinded instantly and regretful.

  Exhaling a deep breath, he eventually pulled out slowly onto the street and headed toward the mountains at the north end of town.

  Olivia took the lids off the coffee cups. “Black, or cream?”

  “I don’t care.”

  Strange response, but what else was new.

  Isaac was a strange man, and he said strange things. Olivia could have spent a lifetime trying to figure him out, but instead she focused on the task at hand and fixed their coffees, deciding she was just going to accept his strangeness as a part of him.

  Everyone has their flaws, their cracks. Everyone has a part of themselves they keep hidden for fear of judgment and prosecution. Who was she to deny Isaac his cracks?

  “Thank you for taking me today,” she said, quietly sipping her coffee as they drove.