.
look at this!” His daughter hopped across the wood floor on a white stick pony.
Nathan Cooper smiled at her lovingly. “You’re a regular cowgirl.”
“Can I have it?”
“Not today, Cupcake, but we’ll put it on the list.”
“We can’t put it on the list until you try it,” she told him, worry creasing her tiny face.
“Me?” he replied, clearly confused by her request. “Why would I need to try it?”
“To know if it’s a good horse or not.”
“Honey...”
“Please, Daddy. You know everything about horses.”
He glanced in Alyssa’s direction. “I’m keeping you from your appointment.”
“I’m a few minutes early, actually.”
“You’ll probably find Rusty in the back room, watching The Weather Channel.”
Her smile faded. “Why? Are you expecting bad weather?” That would make getting around on foot so much harder.
He shook his head. “Nothing more than a light, though undoubtedly cold rain. And not until later this evening. Rusty just likes keeping up-to-date when it comes to the weather.” That said, he reached for the toy pony his daughter was holding out to him.
Completely understandable, she thought, considering what the town had gone through. Reaching out, she retrieved the handle of her suitcase from his grasp. “Thank you so much for your help.”
“My pleasure,” he told her with a tip of his coal-black cowboy hat. One just as dark as the five-o’clock shadow on his firm jaw and midnight hair.
She parked her suitcase up against the wall next to the opening that led to the store’s back room. A glance back over her shoulder found Nathan Cooper straddling the painted stick. His large frame making the toy appear even smaller.
He raised the horse’s head with an impressively realistic whinny, eliciting laughter from his little girl and a smile from Alyssa. Turning away, she stepped into the smaller room in search of Mr. Clark.
Having seen the playful, loving interaction between Nathan Cooper and his young daughter, she now knew what a true knight on a white horse was. Even if this particular knight was dressed in blue jeans and a flannel shirt and the horse had mop strings for hair.
“Mr. Clark?”
The leather chair creaked in protest as it spun away from the paper-strewn desk. A compact television with The Weather Channel playing on it sat atop a smaller table next to the desk.
“Forgive me,” the older man apologized as he pushed his portly form out of the chair. “I didn’t hear the front bell ring. Then again my hearing hasn’t been the same since the tornado.”
“It’s quite all right,” Alyssa replied with an empathetic smile, speaking slightly louder than she had been. She stepped forward, extending her hand. “I’m Alyssa McCall. We spoke on the phone.”
“Ah, yes,” he replied with a nod as he shook her hand in greeting. “So glad to have you here.”
“I’m thrilled to be a part of this.” More than he could ever know.
He stepped past her to a small table by the window to pour himself some coffee. “Would you care for some?”
“No, thank you.” It was too late in the day for caffeine. She’d be up all night. And after the keyed-up day she’d had so far, she was going to require a good night’s sleep in order to give her all to the job the next morning.
“Your firm’s offer to help out with the finishing touches on the recreation center was quite generous, Mrs. McCall. On behalf of the town council, we are truly grateful.”
“It’s Miss,” she gently corrected. “And my company was more than glad to be of part of such a positive undertaking for your community.”
“I have to admit,” he began as he took a sip of the coffee he’d just poured himself, “that we never expected to have a professional interior designer join us on this project. I’m beyond thrilled.”
She just hoped he wouldn’t be disappointed. While she wanted to believe her skills were still sharp, not having as much opportunity to make use of those skills as she once had meant there was a possibility that her expertise might have diminished somewhat.
“Miss McCall?”
Alyssa snapped out of her thoughts with an apologetic smile. “Yes?”
“I was just saying that Myrna and Doris have a room for you over at The Cat’s Cradle.”
“The Cat’s Cradle?”
“It’s the boardinghouse they run at the far end of town. I’m sure you’re aware the town agreed to take care of your accommodations during your stay here. The Wilson sisters have very generously offered to provide your lodgings at no cost to the town.”
“That’s so kind of them, but isn’t renting rooms at the boardinghouse their livelihood? I’m more than willing to pay for my stay there.”
“Nonsense.” He waved the suggestion off. “In fact, the council already offered to pay them, but they refused to accept any money. This is their contribution to the rebuilding of our town. Besides, those two run the boardinghouse because they rarely venture away from The Cat’s Cradle and welcome any and all company that comes their way. Neither one of them is in need of money. Trust me.”
So far every person she had met or heard about in Braxton was unbelievably kind and giving. That eased her worries about being in a town where she knew no one. “I look forward to meeting them.”
“I’m sure that goes both ways.” The words had barely left his mouth when his smile faded, replaced by a worried frown. “You aren’t allergic to cats are you?”
She shook her head. “Not that I know of. Why?”
“Because Doris has a real soft spot for felines.” He started back to his desk. “I’ll call and let them know you’re on your way. You can stop by the rec center in the morning to see how things are coming along and decide on its finishing touches. Light fixtures, paint, trim and furniture of some sort.”
“I’d like that. Is the boardinghouse within walking distance?”
“Maybe when the sun’s shining. But there’s the possibility of rain moving in. You’d be better off driving there.”
“I’m afraid I don’t own a car.”
“Then how on earth did you get here?”
“A friend of mine drove me here,” she explained. “She’ll be back to pick me up once the job is finished.”
“Which should be just in time for our annual Christmas Eve celebration. You and your friend are welcome to join us for it if you have the time. And while I’m at it, I would highly recommend seeing the reenactment of our Savior’s birth the local church here puts on Christmas Eve afternoon. Brings tears to a grown man’s eyes I tell you.”
“It sounds wonderful. But Erica has family in San Antonio she’ll be spending time with over the holidays. She’s not scheduled to pick me up until the day after Christmas. But even if she can’t make it for the church’s program, I’ll be certain not to miss it.”
He sipped at the steaming coffee, studying her curiously. “No holiday plans for you?”
She lowered her gaze to the papers on his desk. “No.”
“Well, we’re glad to have you join us here in Braxton for the holidays.”
“Thank you, Mr. Clark. I really appreciate that,” she told him with a smile. “Now, can you tell