Her Holiday Family. Ruth Logan Herne
it is a good reminder,” Tina replied. “And the back room is kind of crowded right now anyway.” She greeted someone, then waved another pair of customers upstairs to the “country store” shop, another one of his mother’s ideas. Fifteen years ago, folks had kind of ridiculed the idea of a home shop in a hardware store, but no one scoffed now. Campbell’s “Country Cove” on the second floor did enough winter business to pay the bills and record a profit, a huge plus in northern towns.
When Tina came back to the front, Max indicated the door and Mrs. Hyatt’s retreating back with a quick glance. “What have you been doing the past few weeks when customers like that came in? Did you send them elsewhere?”
“Come with me.” Tina led him into the back room, threaded a path through the overstock and the glass-cutting corner, then waved toward Charlie’s equipment fix-it zone for larger repairs. “This is what Earl’s been working on this past week when he was healthy enough to be here.”
Max counted eighteen separate tools in various stages of repair. “Are these due to be picked up soon?”
“Tomorrow. That’s our regular tool pickup day now.”
Tomorrow. Of course Earl was scheduled to work a one-to-five shift today, but that was a lot of fixing to do before they opened tomorrow morning. “Are the necessary parts available? Have they been delivered?”
“With the exception of Herb Langdon’s snowblower, yes. And I called and told him the part was on back order. Earl was out sick this week so all this stuff is here, waiting. Tomorrow morning we’ll have a bunch of people coming in to pick up tools that most likely won’t be ready.”
“So that’s why my mother came in yesterday.” Max made a face of realization. “Earl was sick.”
“And you know your mother. She said it was fine because your brothers took care of keeping Charlie company while she was here, but I could tell she was torn.”
“Luke and Seth aren’t exactly nursing material.” Max respected his older brothers, two decorated county sheriff’s deputies, but nursing care wasn’t their forte.
“He needs company more than care right now,” Tina answered. “And your mom needs to get out now and again. Catch her breath. You know.”
Max didn’t know any such thing. His mother was the most dedicated and loving person he’d ever met. The thought of her wanting to leave Charlie’s side seemed alien. “I expect she’d rather be with Dad. Just in case.”
The uncertainty in Tina’s expression said he might know tools but he’d just flunked Women 101. And that was somewhat surprising, because Max thought he knew women fairly well. But maybe not Kirkwood Lake women.
Despite Earl’s help that afternoon, by the time they locked the doors at five o’clock, there were still three lawn mowers, two leaf blowers, two power-washers and two log-splitters awaiting repair.
Earl held his knit cap in his hand, sheepish. “I shoulda knowed I wasn’t gonna get to all those with Charlie gone, Max. I can come in early tomorrow and help.” He slapped a hand to his head, then shook his head. “No, I’m wrong, Mavis is havin’ some eye thing done tomorrow mornin’ and I promised to drive her. If she breaks the appointment who knows how long it will take to get another. And she’d have my head for puttin’ her off.”
“Oh, those women,” Tina muttered, just out of Earl’s range of hearing.
Max fought a smile and sent Earl off. “I’ll stay late, see what I can do. Thanks for today, though, Earl. It was great working with you.”
“Same here.” Earl made his way to the door, paused, thought, then continued as if he’d never stopped at all. Tina watched him go before she faced Max.
“Do you want me to stay and help? If you show me what to do, I might be able to take some of the pressure off you.”
Assessing the number of tools and the variety of fixes, Max wished that were true, but— “It would take me longer to train you tonight than it would to fix them myself, but I appreciate the offer, Tina. And working with Earl today gave me a refresher course in small-engine repair.” He pointed to a stack of thin books alongside the bench. “I’ve got manuals for each of the models from the internet.” He shrugged, pulled on one of his dad’s sweatshirts from the rack behind the workroom bench and waved her on. “I’ll be fine. Not like I haven’t pulled double duty in my time.”
“If you’re sure?”
“I am. I’ll call Mom, tell her I’m running late. It’s all good.”
“All right. I’ll open in the morning, so if you need to sleep in, go ahead. I’ll have things covered.”
“Thanks. I just might do that.” He wouldn’t, but he appreciated the offer, just the same. In fact, looking at the work spread out before him, he wasn’t sure he’d make it home at all, but that was okay. Jenny and Charlie Campbell had rocked him to sleep at night, held him through a phase of unrelenting nightmares and ran him from town to town as he tore up soccer fields across the county. Staying up late to help them out?
Not a big deal at all.
Tina grabbed the hardware store door handle Monday morning, emotionally sorting through the scene she had just passed. A crew of uniformed firemen, sifting through the remains of her café, searching for evidence of arson. Tina shivered at the thought that anyone would deliberately burn a building, risk harming others and destroy property.
It couldn’t be true. Mild crime was unusual here in Kirkwood Lake. Felony crimes like arson? Assault?
Virtually unheard of.
The door swung open beneath her grip, and she stepped in cautiously, looking left and right. Had Max forgotten to lock up? That seemed unlikely for a guy who made his living completing surreptitious missions, but—
“Tina, is that you? I’ve got coffee back here. Come get some. If you drink coffee, that is.”
“I owned a café. I live on coffee. Gimme.” She reached for the cup as she entered the back room, then stopped, surprised. “Max. They’re all done. Every last one.”
The array of broken equipment had been put back together, each one tagged with the owner’s name and the cost of repair. They formed a pretty line along Charlie’s back-room bench, then marched across the work floor, ready to be loaded into vehicles from the rear loading dock. There would be no reckoning with angry customers, no putting folks off, no begging for more time, hoping people understood business limitations brought on by Charlie’s illness. “I can’t believe this.” Tina turned in a full circle, then stopped when she faced Max again. “You stayed all night.”
“Not the first time I’ve stayed late somewhere. Won’t be the last.” He brushed off the sacrifice like it was no big deal, and that almost made her like him. She’d had enough of guys who promised one thing, then did another. Max’s casual treatment of his sacrifice for his family touched too many of those empty-promise buttons. He directed his attention to the coffee cup. “I wasn’t sure what you like, so I got flavored creamers and regular. And sugar. And artificial sugar.”
“Covering all the bases.” The fact that he’d gone the distance for his parents surprised her. And that he’d provided for her despite his lack of sleep? Downright sweet of him. “Max, this is so nice. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
He hesitated a moment, coffee in hand, as if wanting to say something. Tina prodded him as she stirred hazelnut creamer into her cup. “And?”
His next words surprised her. Because it was old news or because the sympathy in Max’s voice rang with quiet sincerity? Maybe both.
“I didn’t realize your parents were gone, Tina.”