“Looking for somebody?” Samantha teased when she joined her, propping her sneaker-clad feet on an adjacent chair with a sigh of relief.
“No, why?”
“You’ve spent a lot of time with your eyes peeled to the parking lot. I just thought you might be wondering where Boone is.”
“Well, he did say he’d be here today at the crack of dawn,” she said. Years of doubts and bitterness crept into her voice. “Despite Grandmother’s faith in him, I guess he can’t be taken at his word, after all.”
“He called Cora Jane right after we got here,” Samantha reported. “And he spoke to Gabi last night to explain.”
Emily stiffened. “He spoke to Gabi? Why?”
“He had some work he wanted her to do for him.”
“What kind of work?”
Samantha grinned. “Please do not tell me you’re jealous of your own sister?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m just wondering when he and Gabi got to be so tight that he’d ask her for help? Why not you? Or me?”
“Maybe because Gabi’s the one with public relations experience,” Samantha said patiently. “If you give me two seconds, I can explain all this and put your mind at rest.”
Emily knew she was overreacting, looking for excuses to judge him so she could keep him at a distance, so she drew in a deep breath and nodded. “Explain away.”
Samantha described the mess they’d found on closer inspection at Boone’s restaurant, Boone’s solution for working around it and Gabi’s role in spreading that word.
“This morning he had to meet with the people doing the cleanup over at his place, see for himself how serious the problem is and make some decisions,” Samantha concluded.
“And Tommy Cahill? Where’s he? Boone promised Grandmother he’d be working on the roof today. They’re predicting thunderstorms later this afternoon. We’ll be underwater inside, if he doesn’t at least have a tarp down up there.”
“Tommy’s with Boone, checking to see what repairs are needed. He’s meeting his crew here at eleven.” Samantha glanced toward the parking lot as several pickups turned in. “And there they are now. Right on schedule.”
She slanted a look at Emily. “You might want to cut Boone some slack. He spent all day here yesterday, even though he had his own worries. He put Cora Jane and Castle’s first.”
“You’re right,” Emily admitted, knowing that once more she’d misjudged him. “I know I’m just looking for reasons not to get along with him.”
“Because you’re scared,” Samantha suggested.
“Scared of what?”
“Falling for him all over again.”
“Not going to happen,” Emily insisted, though Samantha had hit the nail on the head.
Samantha grinned. “We could take bets on that, little sis, but I never take money from the delusional.”
* * *
After her conversation with Samantha, Emily went inside the restaurant, grabbed her laptop and slipped into one of the booths, hoping to get a little bit of her own work done before she was needed to wait tables or do more cleaning. She had a list of suppliers she wanted to check for the availability of their ski lodge furniture. With a deadline staring her in the face, she couldn’t afford to deal with anyone who didn’t have most things in stock in sufficient quantities. She didn’t have the luxury of waiting for custom pieces.
She’d been jotting notes and scanning websites for a while when she noticed B.J. standing quietly by the table.
“Hey there,” she said with a smile.
“What’re you doing?” he asked, sidling closer.
“Looking for furniture.”
“Can I see?”
“Sure,” she said, sliding over to make room for him.
He crawled onto the bench and knelt, leaning into her. The feel of his body with its little boy smell caught her off guard. She’d never really thought much about being a mother, but suddenly what she guessed were faintly maternal instincts were coursing through her. How about that? she thought, surprised and not entirely dismayed by the sensation.
She observed the way his brow was knit with a frown, the tip of his tongue caught between his teeth as he studied the screen intently. She’d seen that same expression on Boone’s face a time or two, when he was deep in thought. Finally B.J. turned to her.
“That stuff would look kinda weird in here,” he said hesitantly.
Emily laughed at his apt assessment. “It definitely would,” she agreed. “It’s not for here. Tell me why you think it would be wrong, though.”
“It’s all dark and it’s too big.”
“Precisely,” she said. “You have a good eye. Now, can you think of anyplace where it might look right?”
“Someplace really big,” he said eventually.
“Do you think it might look good in front of a great big stone fireplace?” she asked.
His eyes lit up. “You mean like one of those places where people go in the winter to ski?”
“That’s exactly it,” she said, impressed once more. “It’s for a new ski lodge in Colorado.”
“Cool. I think it would be better if it were red, though.”
“Why is that?” she asked, laughing at his boundless confidence in expressing his opinion.
“Because red’s my favorite color. It’s the color of fire trucks and candy apples.”
“And you like both of those things.”
“Uh-huh,” he said, then sobered. “And it was the color of my mom’s car. The one she picked out before she died.” He met Emily’s gaze. “Daddy bought it for her as a surprise for her birthday, but she never got to drive it. She got too sick.”
Emily swallowed against the lump in her throat. “I’m sorry.”
“Sometimes I miss her,” B.J. confided.
“Of course you do. My mom died a while back, and I still miss her, too.”
“Do you ever cry?”
“Sure. Do you?”
“Uh-huh, but I try to be brave, because I know talking about her makes my dad really, really sad.”
Emily suddenly wanted to gather him close and hold him until he could shed all the tears he’d stored up. It wasn’t her place, though. Instead, she said gently, “I’ll bet your dad would want you to talk about your mom anytime
