Mending the Widow's Heart Page 12

  Another blink, followed by a soft meow that sounded an awful like a question. She must be losing it, Holly thought, but when the sound was repeated, she decided it would be rude not to respond. “Yeah, it’s been a tough day. Tomorrow will be better, though. Right?”

  Pandora meowed again, but this time she followed it up by leaning down to rub cheeks with Holly and start purring. Holly had always been more of a dog person, but the sweet gesture was rapidly changing her opinion of cats being too standoffish to make good companions.

  She reached out tentatively for a few gentle pats and kept going when the cat made it clear that she enjoyed the attention. To Holly’s astonishment, the rhythmic motion actually made her feel better, so she kept doing it until they both fell asleep.

  Chapter Nine

  Another item off the punch list, Sam mused as he drew a line through sand skim coat with his flat-edged carpenter’s pencil. He heard the family chatting out on the patio and stepped through the newly hung French doors to check in before he left.

  “I buttoned everything up as much as I could to keep the dust down so you won’t be choking on it. I’ll start the primer tomorrow, and the paint should be done this weekend. The timing will be snug to finish everything, but I promise it’ll be ready like you wanted.”

  “I was never worried about that,” Daphne assured him. “But with all the extra time you’re putting in, I wish you’d let me pay you as we go.”

  “Not a chance. We agreed on a timetable, and it’s good enough for me.” With that decided, he headed for his own place. “I’ll be back in the morning, but if you ladies need anything before then, just call my cell.”

  “We will,” Holly replied while she walked him through the yard to the gap in the hedge that had been widening from all the use it was getting. “Thanks again.”

  “Anytime.”

  The response leaped out on its own, and he was stunned to realize that he meant it. Normally, it took him a while to warm up to folks, but this bright, engaging woman had skirted around his usual defenses without even trying. She flashed him a grateful smile, and he got the same rustling feeling he had at the baseball meeting, a little stronger this time.

  Fortunately for him, she turned and went back to the patio before he could make a complete fool of himself.

  When he got to his front door, there was a jagged piece of notebook paper tacked to the frame.

  Meet me at the forge. —Brian.

  Groaning out loud, Sam tore the paper loose and took out his phone. It was the middle of the week, and for some crazy reason, Brian had made the fifty-mile drive to Liberty Creek. His shift started at 7:00 a.m., so that wasn’t something he normally did. Sam’s radar was pinging loud and clear, and he hoped there wasn’t something seriously wrong.

  After calling up the number on his cell, he waited for his younger brother to answer. “What’re you up to?”

  “Nothin’,” Brian replied smoothly, sounding like a kid trying to convince an adult that things were fine, when in truth the fire department was on their way.

  “The forge has been closed for years,” Sam pointed out curtly. “What kind of crazy idea have you come up with now?”

  “Come down and find out for yourself. Or take a shower and go to bed early. Your call.”

  The final two words simmered with a challenge, and even though Sam was just about dead on his feet, his curiosity got the better of him. “Ten minutes, Brian. That’s all you’re getting from me.”

  “That’s all I need, big brother. See ya soon.”

  Sighing to himself, Sam dragged his feet back out to his work truck and drove through the village to the wide-open spot that had been the perfect location for a blacksmithing operation. Close enough to the bridge and town to be accessible but far enough out that the coal fires wouldn’t choke the residents. There he found Brian’s four-by-four parked outside the long-shuttered business that had given generations of local families their livelihoods. The day Granddad locked the doors had been one of the darkest for the Calhouns.

  A week later, he died in his sleep. Much as Sam hated superstition, to this day part of him still believed that closing down his beloved tinkering spot had broken his grandfather’s heart, and it simply stopped.

  Batting the gloomy thought aside, Sam climbed out of the cab and met his brother on the cracked sidewalk in front of the faded sign.

  Liberty Creek Forge, est. 1820

  Because this wasn’t his idea, Sam folded his arms and waited for Brian to start.

  “Thanks for coming,” he began, looking slightly less sure of himself now that Sam was actually here. “I know you’re real busy.”

  The humble tone in his voice was very un-Brian-like, and Sam allowed his stern expression to soften a little. “It sounded important, and my leftovers aren’t going anywhere. What’s up?”

  Brian grimaced, then let out a heavy sigh. “I got laid off today.” When Sam didn’t respond, Brian let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, I know, again. No matter how good you are, everyone thinks they can get by with one less machinist on the shop floor. And when you’re the low man on the totem pole, you’re the one who gets the ax.”

  “Then you get a new job ’cause you’re good at what you do, but you’re the low man again,” Sam added sympathetically. “I get it, and I’m sorry you’re having such a bad run. But what brings you here?”

  “I’m tired of getting fired because management can’t figure out how to balance the books any other way,” Brian said bluntly. “I wanna be the boss.”

  He motioned to the locked sliding doors, and Sam frowned. “Of what? This place was a dinosaur when you were born. What makes you think it’s gonna be any different all these years later?”

  “Folks love one-of-a-kind things. We take that kind of stuff for granted because we grew up with it, but a lot of people are sick of having the same furniture and decorations their neighbors do. They shop at the same places, so every yard and patio looks like the next.”

  “Okay, but what has that got to do with you?”

  “I can make anything out of metal.” The statement was pretty much accurate, but Sam couldn’t help chuckling, which made Brian scowl defensively. “You know it’s true.”

  “Yeah, it is. I’m just yanking your chain.”

  Brian tilted his head with a curious look. “You haven’t done that since you came home. Something happen recently?”

  Nothing he could define, Sam thought, shaking his head. “Not really. Go ahead.”

  “Anyway, I was stomping around my place, looking for something to throw. I grabbed one of those iron candlesticks I made with Granddad here in his hobby shop when I was a kid. It was heavy, and while I stood there holding it, I had a brainstorm. Reopen the ironworks and use the old forge to make things for customers who want unique pieces for decorating. The story of how it’s made by hand in America would be a bonus and give us an edge over the assembly-line approach.”

  “Like at that Renaissance festival they have every summer outside Waterford,” Sam commented in a pensive tone. “Folks love watching that blacksmith work, and he gets a small fortune for the bigger things he makes.”

  “Yeah, but I’m not wearing tights for anyone,” Brian commented with a sour look. “Plus, once we get up and running, we could advertise the place for the tourists who visit the area every year. There’s always lots of them around for the fall colors, and we could have at least a small work space ready by then, maybe take some orders that could be ready to ship a couple weeks later.”

  He’d obviously been thinking about this for a while, and the sting of his most recent job loss had fanned the spark into a flame. Then it occurred to Sam that the verbiage had gradually shifted from “I” to “we,” and he chuckled. “When you say ‘we,’ I’m guessing you mean you and me.”

  “And Jordan,” Br
ian added, eyes lighting with enthusiasm at the mention of their favorite cousin. “I don’t wanna get his hopes up, but I’m sure he’d be interested in at least talking about it. Traveling around with those art shows is fun, but the last time he was here, he told me that the feast-or-famine income thing is getting old. He’s looking to settle down, and I figure here is as good as anywhere.”

  Sam wasn’t at all certain that Jordan would agree on that, but he didn’t want to dampen Brian’s excitement, so he kept his doubts to himself. Instead, he grabbed the heavy chain and padlock and gave it a good yank. It was solid Calhoun workmanship and didn’t even creak. “Have you got a key?”

  “Right here.” Leaning down, Brian picked up a heavy-duty set of bolt cutters. He set them in place and each brother took one of the long handles, pushing them together until the bar on the old lock gave way with a resounding snap.

  Crazy as it seemed, Sam couldn’t help thinking that it was as if the old building knew what was happening and was voicing its approval of Brian’s idea to bring it back to life.

  Brian slipped the chain loose and coiled it before dropping it on the ground. Grinning at Sam, he took hold of one iron handle and waited for Sam to grab the other. The mechanism was seized with rust, so their first tug got them precisely nowhere. After a few more pulls, the corroded wheels began to loosen and moved along the upper track with a drawn-out screech that made a nearby dog howl in protest.

  “I know how he feels,” Sam grunted, putting his back into the job.

  Finally, they opened the doors far enough for Brian to sweep a flashlight around the interior. The scuttling of tiny feet and sound of flapping wings told them the place wasn’t completely deserted, and when a bat soared over his head to escape, Sam chuckled. “I’m thinking the first thing you need is an exterminator. A brave one.”

  Brian laughed and boldly stepped through the opening. “Come on. Let’s see what we’ve got to work with.”

  “I didn’t say yes yet,” Sam pointed out, but followed after him, anyway. He’d served ten years in the Army, after all. A few flying rodents were nothing.

  The electricity was still off, so they could only see what was illuminated by the beam of Brian’s light. Hulking in the darkness were piles of steel that seemed to be waiting for someone to feed them into the forge. Tarps that had been thrown over the raw material were covered in dust and bird droppings, and the air was thick with the scents of mildew and rot.

  This had been his family’s business since just after the Revolution, Sam thought morosely. Seeing it left for dead like this was depressing, to say the least.

  “For once, I’m glad Granddad isn’t here,” Brian said quietly. “He loved this old place, and seeing it like this would’ve killed him.”

  Out of respect for their grandfather, they were silent for several moments. Then Brian turned to Sam with a hopeful look. “I know it’s a disaster, and there’s no guarantee this will even work. But there’s no way I can do it on my own, and I can’t afford to pay anyone for a while. Will you help me get the forge back on its feet? For Granddad?”

  This venture was as near to a hopeless cause as Sam could imagine, but for his brother’s sake, he dredged up a grin. “Yeah, I’m in. Whattya need?”

  * * *

  Holly had just left the dry cleaners when her phone began singing Daphne’s signature ringtone. Oliver had generously offered to stay with her while Holly ran errands, so she’d planned on having at least an hour before she had to pick up Chase. Anticipating an emergency, Holly’s heart shot into her throat, and she swallowed hard before answering. “Hello?”

  “Hi, Peaches!” Daphne hollered, a rush of wind in the background nearly drowning out her voice. “Can you hear me all right?”

  “Yes, but where are you? In a wind tunnel?”

  “Out with Oliver in his beautiful new car. His mechanic just finished restoring it, so we’re seeing what it can do.”

  “You’re supposed to be at home resting,” Holly seethed. Elegant gentleman or no, she was going to throttle Oliver Chesterton next time she saw him.

  There was a muffling sound, as if Daphne had covered the microphone for a sidebar conversation. Then she heard the scoundrel’s voice. “Don’t let her worry you, Holly. Daphne is properly cushioned and strapped in, and this car is older than I am, so I’m staying well below the speed limit. You have my word on that.”

  “You are absolutely no fun,” Daphne huffed in the background, but Oliver simply chuckled.

  Despite the scare they’d given her, Holly couldn’t help but smile. Accustomed to a jet-setting lifestyle and plenty of pampering, Daphne’s forced inactivity had left her aching for some excitement. At least she and Chase were having fun this summer, she groused silently, trying not to be envious of their spontaneity. By necessity, everything she did was planned to the nth degree, and she was human enough to admit that there were times she wished she could go off-script and enjoy herself for a change. But she couldn’t, so she did her best to be happy for her mother. “So, Bonnie and Clyde, what are your plans?”

  Oliver repeated the notorious reference and chuckled. “We’re driving to Briarton to see a traveling theater troupe that’s doing Shakespeare in the Park. Then it’s off to dinner at The Walden, my friend’s new restaurant. I have Daphne’s wheelchair and medication, and you have my word that she’ll be using both as prescribed by her doctor.”

  “Sounds fabulous. You two kids have fun.”

  They sang a jubilant goodbye to her, and she shut down her phone before putting it in her bag. The tiny business district of Liberty Creek stretched for about a city block, so she could see most of the town from where she stood.

  Two mountain bikes turned the corner, their custom license plates tagging them as rentals. They passed by her, and she caught the scent of something scrumptious wafting out the open front door of Ellie’s Bakery and Bike Rentals. She wandered in that direction, suddenly hungry for a treat.

  Behind the counter, she found the always-smiling owner. “Something smells amazing in here.”

  “Just a few treats I’m whipping up for the crew over at the forge today. I want to make sure my boys get a good lunch while they’re working so hard.”

  It was cute how she referred to the Calhoun brothers, as if they were children she was proud of instead of full-grown men. Then again, Holly would probably feel the same about Chase when he was older, too. “Sam hasn’t said much, other than that he got shanghaied into helping. How’s it going?”

  “I’m not sure myself,” Ellie admitted with a laugh. “I take that to mean they’re still in the cleaning-out phase.”

  “I’d really like to contribute somehow. How about if I deliver these, along with some desserts? Cookies and cupcakes usually work best for a picnic spread.”

  “Now you’ve got the idea. Help yourself to whatever you’d like while I pull a couple boxes of treats together.”

  Holly felt like a little girl after school, enjoying a snack while her mother got dinner started. Then she remembered that it had been her aunt chopping vegetables and seasoning meat with her secret-recipe concoctions of herbs and spices. Suddenly, the melt-in-your-mouth slice of pound cake tasted like sawdust, and she swallowed hard around the lump clogging her throat.

  Before she knew what was happening, tears were rushing down her cheeks, even as she struggled to keep them in check. Holly found herself wrapped in a pair of motherly arms, being rocked like a child who’d fallen and was in need of comforting.

  “There, there, now,” Ellie crooned in a soft tone that spoke of plenty of practice making people feel better. “Nothing’s ever so wrong that it can’t be made right.”

  Holly didn’t trust herself to talk right now, but she forced herself to take a deep breath and nod.

  Ellie pulled a couple of napkins from the dispenser and handed them to her. “Do y
ou want to tell me about it?”

  “No, I’m fine,” Holly insisted, desperately trying to pull herself together. “Just tired, is all.”

  Ellie clucked in sympathy. “Of course you are. So much to do, running that crazy household all by yourself, and the baseball project besides. It’s a lot for one person to handle.”

  She’d nailed the way Holly had been feeling but had been unwilling to share. She didn’t want anyone to think that she was anything other than completely capable, when in truth she often felt as if she wasn’t up to the tasks that she’d set for herself. That someone who barely knew her had diagnosed her problem suggested that it wasn’t all that uncommon, and it dawned on her that she might be able to learn something from Sam’s compassionate grandmother. “Some days, I feel like nothing I do is good enough.”

  “We all do,” Ellie assured her confidently. “And then there are days when we get things just right, and we wonder if anyone notices.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Someone always notices, though,” she said, nodding at the cross Holly wore, “and His strength keeps us going whether we realize it or not.”

  Holly fingered the silver symbol of her faith, recalling the day Daphne gave it to her before they attended church with the family. It had been Holly’s first exposure to the faith she held so close, in good times and bad. Now that she knew the truth of their relationship, she wondered if her mother had been trying to give her something tangible that would always connect them.

  Feeling calmer now, she took a deep breath and forced a smile. “You’re absolutely right. Thanks for reminding me.”

  “You’re very welcome. Now, let’s get these things packed up for the boys. They should be ready for a break by now.”

  Nodding, Holly gulped down the rest of her anxiety and filled large to-go cups with lemonade and iced tea. Long ago, she’d learned that the best way to forget your troubles was to do something thoughtful for someone else. It made everyone feel better, and your own troubles faded into the background. At least for a little while.