Small-Town Dreams and The Girl Next Door. Kate Welsh
weather-beaten sign hanging from the gatepost. Swenson’s Bed and Breakfast, the faded letters declared on the sign that bobbled in the breeze. The fence the gate was attached to was a wobbly picket-type that had even less paint than it had stability.
The house fired Cassidy’s imagination, though it was every bit as weather-beaten as the sign and fence. It had once been lovely. She visualized its faded, peeling colors crisp and bright again, its windows shining in the sunlight, and the fence restored to its once stalwart position of authority. The upstairs tower room with its circle of tall windows would be unbelievably perfect as a studio. There was something about the house that struck a cord deep inside that said family and security.
“Wouldn’t you love to get your hands on the place?” Joshua asked from behind her. “I know I would.”
Cassidy whirled around. He sat in an old beat-up truck that he’d pulled to the side of the road. She smiled. “You’d get a ticket in Philadelphia for parking facing the wrong way.”
Joshua set the brake and opened the door. He chuckled. “But this is Mountain View. In a town with probably fewer than thirty cars in a ten-mile radius, with three of those in the shop, and the rest parked at job sites, it hardly matters.”
Cassidy glanced away from his charming grin and looked around town, wondering how he kept his sanity in such an isolated place. “I see your point. Do you even have a sheriff or a policeman around here?”
“The state police patrol the area. Their barracks is out on the interstate.”
So even the state police hadn’t been able to find Joshua’s origins. “Are you finished with that roof you were fixing?”
“For now, till it leaks again.”
“Why not just put on a whole new one?”
“Because they can’t afford it and they won’t accept charity. Patching is neighborly. Replacing isn’t. You see?”
Embarrassed, Cassidy nodded and turned back toward the house. She would never have thought of that. Grace and intuition must be inborn, she decided, because she didn’t see how he could have learned that kind of insight into the delicate feelings of others in only five years, especially with all the other things he’d had to relearn. Her admiration for him grew dangerously.
“Does anyone own this?” she asked to distract herself from risky thoughts of him and his apparently stellar character.
“The Swensons still own it but they don’t live here anymore. They moved to Georgia to live with their son about ten years ago. The place apparently got too much for them to handle. It’s been for sale for years, but it hasn’t sold.”
Joshua stepped by her and inside the gate. His movement set the sign swinging. “Summer people don’t usually want anything this big, and we don’t get many year-round families moving into the area,” he continued. “It’s actually pretty stable. The roof’s sound. Henry and I boarded the windows up when some summer kids thought it was funny to break them out.”
“That was kind of you.”
He shrugged. “Just being a good neighbor. I check on the place every now and again for the real estate people. That’s what I was about to do. Want to see the inside? I’m sure no one would care if you tag along.”
Cassidy stared up at the house and realized what it was that called to her. It reminded her of her home—the one in suburban Philadelphia that she’d shared with her parents until that fateful vacation when she’d lost them. She didn’t think she’d really had a home since. “I’d love to see it,” she said automatically. Then she remembered his ever-present companion. “Where’s Bear?” She really wasn’t up for another of the dog’s greetings without ample warning.
“You’re safe from his adoration for now. He’s asleep in the back of the truck. He spent the day chasing kids, rabbits and a bunch of barn cats. He’s been out like a light since I pulled away from the Wilsons’.”
Joshua stepped back, holding the gate open, and swept his arm toward the front door in a gesture that reminded her of a piece of Shakespearean stage direction. “After you, fair lady,” he said, doffing his baseball cap.
Cassidy laughed at the silly gesture, and Josh laughed, too. “Is there any furniture left?” she asked as they sauntered along the walk to the house.
“Almost all of it. Ma dusts the place up every now and again, hoping that if we keep it nice for the Swensons, it’ll sell.”
“And why don’t you dust it? Not men’s work?”
“No. She says I don’t see the dust. I think she’s being a fanatic about a few specks.” He shook his head and grinned that killer grin of his. “She says I suffer from what she calls ‘male blindness.’ Ma’s a real ego bruiser, I’ll tell you.”
“Oh, I’ve noticed how cruel she is to you.”
“Hey, she can be one tough lady,” he protested as he vaulted up the porch steps. “Don’t let that fairy-godmother face fool you.”
Cassidy was helpless to contain the giggle that bubbled up from somewhere inside her. “That’s exactly what I thought when I first met her.”
“Cinderella’s fairy godmother come to life. That’s Irma,” Josh said over his shoulder as he unlocked the door.
“All she’s missing is the wand,” Cassidy agreed as she followed him toward the front door. He had it unlocked and opened before she reached it. Though boarded up, there was a beautiful frosted glass panel in the door that remained undamaged. Unconsciously she ran her fingers over the expertly etched flowers. “Beautiful,” she whispered to herself.
“That’s just the tip of the iceberg. This place is a gem just waiting to be polished.”
Cassidy stepped inside the foyer as Joshua flipped on the lights. She immediately understood the love for the old house that she’d heard in his voice. If the rest of it was as wonderful as the sweeping staircase and oak wainscot panels, this house really was a gem. “So why don’t you buy it and polish it to your heart’s content?”
He shook his dark head. “Because even though they aren’t asking much and I could afford it on my salary, it’s too big for one person. This old place deserves a family. Or at least to be turned back into a B & B so a lot of people can enjoy it. I don’t have a family or the inclination to run a B & B. But I’d love the process of watching it come alive again. Can you understand that?”
“Maybe you ought to rethink your profession. You sound more like a carpenter than a country preacher.”
Joshua chuckled. “Well, that’s kind of appropriate, since I serve a carpenter who became a preacher. I like to build things, fix things up—but it’s a hobby, not a calling like my work with Henry.”
“I just meant that carpentry and cabinet-making is a more lucrative profession.”
“But it wouldn’t be nearly as fulfilling. I really think that has to be the most important thing in choosing your life’s work.”
“I suppose. It’s a shame we can’t all be as fortunate as you’ve been in finding both a profession and a hobby.”
Joshua stood in front of a set of floor-to-ceiling doors with his thumbs hooked in the front belt loops of his jeans. He stood casually, but the look in his eyes was anything but. “If you’re so unhappy in what you do, then why don’t you look for another job that won’t give you ulcers.”
His comment cut a little too close to the bone for comfort, and Cassidy stiffened. “It isn’t my job. I’m where I belong. I just need to find a way to cope with stress better. That’s all.”
“So what exactly is all the stress from? What kind of work do you do?”
“Until yesterday I was acting vice president of Jamison Steel. I’ve been running the Information Systems department.”