“I didn’t want to mess it up.”
She chuckled and extended her hand. “Here. One at a time.”
“Where did all of this come from?”
“My pockets. I’m a big fan of cargo pants and tool belts. That way I can access whatever tools I need quickly and keep my hands free for work. The tape is awkward, but I won’t need it after tonight.”
“We’re back.” The hall person shouted, but James couldn’t look away as Claire shimmied the tools into her pockets. Even her efficiency turned him on.
He joined the others in carefully lifting the house onto a set of castors. As directed, he continued to support the weakened corner as they rolled the house down the hall to a flatbed truck waiting outside. As she deftly maneuvered a tarp into place, he read the worry on her face. He thought about all the pieces he’d seen move through the lobby, all the boxes, crates and loose pieces.
The magnitude of the move hit him. These little trains took up way more space that he would have guessed from the photographs in Walter’s office. No wonder they drew in the crowds much like department store windows. But the department stores sold more goods with increased foot traffic. Adena didn’t. If Adena owned the trains, they would be a valuable asset. He pulled a few Tums from his pocket. Fruit flavored for variety. If he sold Adena to that Texas-based company who wanted the plant only, and even if he didn’t, CJ’s Hobbies needed to store the pieces somewhere in the future, hopefully a spot where they wouldn’t suffer any more damage. He’d done enough to upset Claire for one lifetime.
SINCE WALTER OFFERED to collect any stray boxes from Adena headquarters, Claire allowed herself the luxury of dinner. No matter how delicious Kay O’Meara’s barbequed chicken legs were, she had too much work to justify an hour digging sauce and spices out of her cuticles. She scooped a small serving of overbaked ziti onto her plate instead.
“Jo sent chili.” Dylan had slipped beside her at some point.
“Thank goodness. As much as I love funeral potatoes and pasta salad, I need something besides carbs if I hope to get anything done tonight.”
He chuckled. “She warned me these buffets tend toward the carb heavy comfort food and she wasn’t kidding. When I went to pick up Kevin, her house smelled so good. Her chili is off the charts.”
“I miss her cooking whenever I travel. I miss her even more though. Her and Kevin.” She accepted the cheesy, potato goodness Dylan offered. When he put the spoon down, his brows furrowed.
“You’re her best friend, can I ask you something?” He nodded his head away from the crowd.
“Sure.” They wandered toward a quieter spot along the wall. “What’s on your mind?”
“I have until tomorrow to put in requests for next quarter, and I love working with Kevin, but, maybe...”
Claire glanced up from her plate. Beneath the lumberjack biker beard, Dylan’s face was bright red. She followed his gaze to the floor, where his left foot twisted back and forth.
“You like her.”
“Yeah.” His voice was barely a whisper. “Kevin, too.”
She didn’t want to betray what her friend told her in confidence, but Dylan seemed to need a little reassurance.
“Kevin told me you are the bestest therapist ever so I’m sure Jo would request you again, but she has some strict ideas about ethics, lines between employer-employee, medical practitioner-patient. I also know that she and Kevin both laugh more when you’re around and look forward to your visits. I suspect that would hold true even if you weren’t coming out here as a class assignment. I know how much she appreciated your bringing Kevin tonight. She doesn’t get much time to herself.”
“Do you think she’d be mad if she found out I put in for a change?” His cheeks were more pink than red as his smile reached to his eyes.”
“Of course.” She smiled as Dylan’s eyes widened. “But Kevin can hang out with me while you convince Jo change is for the best. After the display opens, you should come see it fully assembled. Jo and Kevin can point out some of the special details.” She had already made a miniature Dylan. He was going to be one of three figures on Jo’s watermelon porch swing. They made a wonderful future family.
AS THE EMPTY CASSEROLE dishes piled up, her helpers began begging off work. She understood their reasons. It was getting late for the shift workers who started at five the next morning and she was fairly sure Bob was up past his bedtime. His head dipped to his chest a few times as he sat in a folding chair and supposedly ticked off the inventory list.
“Go home, Bob. We won’t start the wiring without you, but I think I have some repair first.”
Soon, only George and Walter remained with her.
“Time to go. Most of the tables are in the right spot. Should be good enough.” Walter popped an unlit cigar in his mouth, a sure sign he was done for the day.
“I want to finish my damage report so I can get repair materials in order.”
“About that. Don’t spend too much ordering supplies. Money isn’t coming in as fast as we’d hoped.”
“Even with Operation Ticket?” She feigned surprise when George shook his head.
Walter rested a hand on her shoulder, like her Grandfather always did when bearing bad news. “We may have to charge admission.”
“No!” She whirled out of his reach and stomped her foot. “Grandpa wouldn’t have allowed it, and neither will I.” She took in the display coalescing in the cavernous church basement. The whole undertaking was expensive, relocation, repair, additional safety, electricity, signage to direct to the new location. Her personal budget had some wiggle room, but lawyer fees and quarterly taxes were
