Read Making Spirits Bright Online
Authors: Fern Michaels,Elizabeth Bass,Rosalind Noonan,Nan Rossiter
Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Anthologies (Multiple Authors)
Making Spirits Bright (26 page)
Chapter 8
He had it bad.
One visit from Jo, and the garage was no longer dark and gloomy. He didn’t want to bite Chuck’s head off every time the young mechanic dropped a wrench on the concrete floor. Tommy’s jokes actually seemed funny again, and the snowflakes twirling through the air made him smile.
Yeah, he had it bad.
Two o’clock couldn’t come soon enough.
“Hey, Sam!” When Tommy called, Sam closed the hood on the Jeep and ducked into the office, grateful for the distraction.
“Meet Nelson Dubinsky. He’s looking for someone who knows explosives. Could be right up your alley.”
“Sam Norwood.” Sam shook hands with Dubinsky, a lean man with creases at the edges of his serious gray eyes. From his buzzed hair and squared-away clothes, Sam suspected he was former military.
Dubinsky’s stern eyes swept over Sam quickly; he seemed satisfied with what he saw. “I’m looking for a munitions expert to supervise a local job. I hear you’ve got experience.”
“Twenty-first Infantry in Afghanistan. Mine fields were my specialty. I worked at identifying and defusing IEDs, too, but I’m thinking that I’m done with that business.”
The man nodded. “You from these parts, Sam?”
“I am. Grew up right here in Woodstock.”
“Do you remember where you were the night the Old Man of the Mountain fell?”
“Of course.” Sam thought of the rock face over at Franconia Notch, a fixture of his childhood. No one thought the huge face of the Old Man would ever come tumbling down. “That was a big deal around here. People were devastated. I think my mother cried.”
“I cried,” Tommy said from behind the counter. “Losing that old face was like losing family.”
“A lot of people in this state would agree with you,” Dubinsky said. “When you have an image on your state license plates and road signs, people get attached. It’s a point of pride. That’s why I’m here. I represent the foundation that wants to fund the re-creation of the Old Man.”
“Really.” Sam leaned against the counter.
“People are going to pay to rebuild it?” Tommy sounded dubious.
Dubinsky held his hands up. “It would be a monument. There’s no way we could rebuild it exactly.”
The Old Man of the Mountain ...
Sam stared off past the dingy window of Tommy’s office, and wondered what it would be like to be part of a project like that. Building something up, instead of blowing holes in the ground.
“I’d like to talk some more about your background.” Dubinsky held out a business card. “It sounds like you could be an effective part of our team.”
Sam looked at the card, shook his head. “You can save your card, sir. Not interested.”
“Is that so?” The older man rose from the chair. “That’s too bad.” He made a point of placing his card on the counter. “I’ll leave this here, just in case you change your mind.”
“I won’t.”
“I’ll be going, then. Gentlemen.”
Tommy lifted a hand. “Take it easy.” He watched as the man went out to his car. Once the car door slammed, he wheeled on Sam. “What the hell’s wrong with you? That’s not just a job, but the job of the century around here. Are you freakin’ crazy, Sam?”
“Probably.”
“Why would you not want to work for that man?” Sam folded his arms across his chest. “I got no problem with Mr. Dubinsky.”
“Is it about the explosives? Because I get that.”
Sam shook his head. “That’s just science and safety precautions. I can handle that.”
“Then come on, man!” Tommy spread his long arms wide. “What’s your problem?”
Sam shifted the ridiculous cap on his head, scratched under the earflap. Strange, but his hand still expected to find the lobe of his ear there. Instead, there was only a shiny knot of scar tissue.
“I got no answer,” Sam said quietly.
“What?” Tommy wasn’t backing down.
Sam shook his head. “Calm down, okay? As soon as I figure it all out, you’ll be the first to know.”
Tommy snorted. “Well, I’m keeping that guy’s card for you.” He shoved the card into the pocket of his coveralls and shuffled toward the door. “Excuse me, but I got an engine to flush.”
For the rest of the day, work was work. Sam helped Tommy figure out why an old Volvo kept stalling, and did a brake job. When they took a break for lunch and watched a basketball game on ESPN, Tommy fell to his knees over a tiebreaker and they high-fived and laughed. That was the thing about guys. No one expected you to put it all out there.
After lunch Tommy went to hang the new sign at Jo and Molly’s shop. When he returned, he had Jo with him, her cheeks pink and pretty and her hair smooth and shiny, like the girl in the shampoo commercial. Sam remembered how it felt, silky soft as it slid over the backs of his hands that night.
His left hand rose, his fingers tapping the flap of the cap. Everything was covered, at least for now.
“Have I got news for you!” Jo marched up to Sam and handed him a piece of white paper. “People love your sign. I told them it was handmade and now everyone wants one. The whole row of stores by the Christmas shop and all the businesses in the Tudor building around the corner. Isn’t it amazing?”
“What’s this?” he asked, scanning the list that included the pizza parlor, the Woodstock Inn, and the bank.
“It’s a list of signs to be made. Molly and I double-checked the spellings. We didn’t talk about money, but I floated the price of three hundred apiece, and no one even batted an eye!”
“That’s a lot of oil changes,” he said. And enough work to keep him in town for a few weeks. He didn’t mind the work, but he wasn’t so sure about the commitment. How long could he really stick around here, pining for Jo and knowing it was never going to happen?
“Ay-yeah. Pretty cool, huh?”
He nodded. “Pretty cool.” He wished he could smile to reassure her, but the stoicism that had fallen over him left steel in his blood.
“And this is just the beginning. Once people see these, I bet all the shops on Main Street will be ordering new signs. It’ll add another level of quaintness to Woodstock, Sam. Thanks to you.”
He shook his head. “You’re the one, Jo. You work your magic on these people and they’ll sign up to watch submarine races.”
She laughed. “I don’t think so, but I’m psyched about this, Sam. This could be big for you. Huge.”
He scratched his jaw, not wanting to burst her bubble. “Could be.”
“Is the price okay? If you think it’s not enough, I’ll throw another number out there.”
“It’s fine. It’s generous.”
She squinted at him. “You sure?”
“Absolutely. I just wasn’t expecting anything like this.” She smiled. “I know. I love it when things fall together like this.” She stepped closer, demanding that he face her.
When their eyes met, the light of joy in her face just about killed him.
“Thanks, Jo,” he said quietly.
“You’re welcome.” She looked over her shoulder at the office. “I gotta run and pick up Ava. Tell Tommy I’ll settle with him later, okay?”
“Will do.” Sam watched as she drove off, even returned her wave. As the Jeep’s taillights disappeared down the street, he wondered what bad luck Jo Truman had fallen into that made her keep entangling herself with the wrong guy.
Chapter 9
“I love Christmas parties, Mommy,” Ava said as Jo led her by the hand toward the Woodstock Inn, where the white lights of the giant wreath gleamed beneath a dusting of snow.
Jo held back a grin. “I do, too, honey. But remember, this is a party for other people. Mommy is going to help serve the food, and you can help Nanna work the desk.”
Tonight the inn would be rocking with three Christmas parties and a wedding, on top of the regular dinner traffic in the dining room. Pops had called in reinforcements, as he put it, asking for family members to help out, even if just for a few hours. Molly had volunteered to handle the shop so that Jo could work as a server for a few hours.
“Maybe I can fold napkins. I’m good at that.”
“Maybe.” The heavy door closed behind them as they stamped their feet on the entry rug to wipe off any snow.
Ava jumped up to peer through the beveled glass of the inner door. “Pops! I see Pops!” She flung the door open and raced inside.
By the time Jo pressed through the door, Ava was in Pops’s arms, chatting with the brawny man beside him, Earl Camden.
“Who’s this little one?” Earl asked, winking at Ava. “Are you a Christmas angel?”
She giggled. “No. I’m just a girl.”
“This is Ava, Jo’s daughter.” Pops nodded at Jo.
“I don’t believe it!” Earl gasped. “You’re a real girl!” He turned to Jo. “The last time I saw her, she was a wee little thing.”
“They grow up so fast,” Jo said. “It’s good to see you in town, Earl. The inn misses you.”
He waved dismissively. “Aw, your pops keeps it all under control. I’d like to get here more often, but it’s hard with the grandkids in Baltimore and the condo in Boca. Wendy says she just can’t take the cold anymore.”
“Well, it’s good to see you.” Jo squeezed his arm. “Give Wendy our best.”
“I will, and thanks for helping out tonight. I understand your pops sent an SOS out to the family.”
“It’s all good,” Pops said, jiggling Ava in his arms. “Everyone can use the work this time of year.”
“Good.” Earl nodded. “If you’ll excuse me, I think my dinner guests have arrived.”
As he left them, Jo reached over to straighten her father’s red bow tie. “You’re really spruced up tonight, Pops.”
“We have a wedding reception upstairs,” he explained. “It’s good to see Earl, right?”
“It is. Wasn’t he just here last week?”
“I know ... he stayed away for three months, and now two visits in two weeks. The rumor mill is churning.”
“Saying what?”
“That he wants to sell the inn.” When Jo winced, he shrugged. “Sounds crazy, I know. But Earl just said it himself. He just can’t get here often enough.” He tipped his face down toward his granddaughter. “Miss Ava, how would you like to help your nanna at the front desk?”
As Ava nodded contentedly and they all began to cross the lobby, Jo soaked up the ambiance of the old building, with its hand-hewn banisters, wide plank hardwood floors, and gas fireplaces.
How she loved this place.
Any time of year, the inn was the central pulse of Woodstock, but, now, decorated for Christmas, it surrounded her with its cozy embrace. The lobby was decked in garland speckled with twinkling white lights and clusters of red and purple Christmas balls festooned with fat ribbons. In the corner sat the tree that Jo and Molly had decorated, with its fat red poinsettias, embossed burgundy ribbons, and silver glass icicles.
She used to play hide-and-seek with her brothers in this lobby. They would race up the stairs to see who could deliver towels first. She learned how to bake with Earl’s wife, Wendy, in the big industrial kitchen, and she and Fran had spent a few summers earning a quarter for each weed pulled from the gardens out back.
“Earl isn’t going to sell this place,” Jo told her father.
“I hope you’re right, sport.” He deposited Ava on a tall stool behind the front desk. Next to her, Irene was helping a guest with a phone reservation. She waggled her fingers at Jo, then turned back to the date book.
Jo kissed Ava’s forehead. “You be a good girl and help Nanna, okay? I’m going to help Pops serve people their food.”
“Okay, Mommy.” Ava was already busy putting loose pens and pencils into a cup.
Jo turned away to follow her father through the dining room to the kitchen, but an elegantly dressed couple talking with Earl Camden at table four caught her eye. Although she couldn’t see their faces, Jo noted the man’s classic dark suit and the woman’s blond hair swept back and held with a sapphire blue clasp, which glimmered in the lights. She wore the satin dress and high heels of a woman going ballroom dancing—certainly not a local who’d come to the inn for dinner.
Who were they?
Her question was answered a moment later as she followed her father across the dining room and saw the woman’s face.
Clarice Diamond. And the man beside her was her husband, Sid; Jo recognized him from news photos.
“Pops ...” Jo waited until they were in the loud clatter of the kitchen. “Did you see who Earl is having dinner with?”
He nodded. “Nice-looking couple.”
“Pops, that man is Sid Diamond, the real estate mogul. Diamond Resorts?”
“Really? The big clubs that have ninety pools and hot tubs?” He seemed amused. “Earl never mentioned Sid Diamond.”
She tied an apron behind her back. “Pops, I have a bad feeling about this.”
“And as far as we know, that’s just a feeling, Joanne,” he said sternly. “Don’t you go starting rumors.” He wiped the back of his hand over his brow. “Diamond Resorts. Earl would never do that to us.”
“You’re probably right, Pops. Nothing to worry about now, right?”
He flashed a smile before ducking back into the dining room, but Jo could tell it was forced.
That night, after Ava was tucked in and Molly was in her room studying, Jo slipped out into the cold night and headed across the lane toward the main house.
She pulled her jacket closer, shivering. Stars glimmered in the night like a spilled satchel of diamonds—and she thought of Sid Diamond and his offer to buy the inn, which Earl had confirmed before she’d left that night. Sid Diamond and his super resorts ... If he had his way, the inn would be torn down before the spring thaw.
One man held the power over so many lives. It just didn’t seem fair.
The possibility of Woodstock losing its inn kept her from sleep, but she didn’t want to disturb Molly from her studies. Although it was late, she had decided to take a chance and see if Tommy was right about Sam hanging out in their parents’ garage most nights.
There was no answer when she knocked, and she realized how ridiculous it was to be standing here, at the outside door to her own parents’ garage, knocking. She had turned away to go in the back door of the house when the door to the garage squeaked open.
“Jo?” Sam stood in the doorway, a baseball hat clamped over his head. “It is you. Is everything okay?”
“I just ... I needed someone to talk to and Tommy said that you might be here working on the car.”
“Yeah.” His left hand rose to cover the side of his head. “Okay. Come on in, but watch your step. I’m going to kill the lights.”
He hit the switch and the garage went dark, but for the string of colored lights above the workbench.
“Is Tommy here?” she asked, looking around. The Mustang was off the blocks, now supported by tires with fancy wheel rims.
“Nah, it’s just me.”
“Good.” She knew Tommy would be equally upset about the uncertain fate of the inn, and she didn’t want to burden him with it yet.
Sam edged over to the sink to wash his hands, hiding his left side as he moved. “I’d offer you a seat, but there’s really nowhere to sit.”
She glanced around. “You’re right.” She thought about going inside, but the idea of sneaking a boy into her parents’ house after midnight seemed scandalous, even if she was in her twenties.
“Hold on.” He circled the back of the car, then opened the driver’s-side door. “This baby’s off the blocks. We can sit in here.”
She opened the passenger door and slid into the deep bucket seat. The silver Mustang charm on the dashboard gleamed against the smooth vinyl. “Hey, you guys have been working on the interior.”
“A little Armor All does wonders.”
“But you get the driver’s seat?” She folded her arms across her chest.
“Of course. I’m the man.” He ran his hands over the outer edge of the steering wheel, then gripped it at two and ten. “So what’s up?”
Jo sank into the deep seat and stared through the windshield at the glowing colored lights. “Earl is looking to sell the Woodstock Inn, and the buyer is this big deal real estate developer who will probably turn it into a three-ring circus.”
“The Woodstock Inn.” He frowned. “That place has always been an institution around here. Wasn’t the building originally the train station back in the day when the whole town was just a stop on the railroad?”
She nodded. “My father has been managing the inn for years, and it employs half of our family. This is going to kill Pops. We grew up in that place, had our run of it.” She squeezed her eyes closed as she recalled the old days at the inn. “We can’t let them tear it down.”
She felt the warm pressure of Sam’s hand on her thigh, and thought how bittersweet to feel the touch of a man in this low moment. Suddenly she felt drained of energy.
“I don’t know why I’m taking this so personally. It’s not as if I own the inn. And I’m so tired of working twenty-four-seven with nothing to show for it. But if we lose the inn, this town’s as good as done.”
“You can’t give up yet,” he said. “You’ve got to fight the battle. The inn is worth fighting for, right?”
“Of course, but how do you fight someone like Sid Diamond? He’s got more power and money than the whole state of New Hampshire.”
“So you need a strategy. You won’t win against him. So you undermine him. Get to Earl. Find out what it would take for him to hold on to the inn. I know he thinks he’s ready to sell, but he’s got some attachments here. When push comes to shove, I don’t think he’ll give up on this town.”
Jo thought of her brief exchange with Earl earlier, his praise of her father, the way he’d teased Ava as if she were his own granddaughter. “Earl is a great guy,” she said. “We can at least try to talk to him.”
“Right. That’s a start. And if he doesn’t budge, you still have options. The town won’t go out without a fight, but you’d have to get people on board ... the mayor and the merchants. Who’s mayor now, anyway?”
“Steve Balfour. His construction company built half the condos at Loon Mountain. Remember him from high school?”
“Student body president, yeah. If Earl can’t be swayed, you go to the people.” Sam turned to her, his features barely visible in the dim light. Still, there was no mistaking that strong jawline and the spark in his eyes.
How she longed to run her hand along that jaw.
“You’ve given me some good ideas,” she said. He reminded her of the Sam she used to know, solid and dependable. “It seemed so hopeless, but there are some alternatives.”
“And if anyone can rally people around here, it’s you. Who else could have sold a dozen personalized signs in one day?”
She snorted. “That’s because I know everyone and their brother.”
“Exactly.” His hand moved down her thigh, squeezing just above her knee.
His touch felt so good. Maybe he meant it as a brotherly show of encouragement, but Jo’s body was taking it seriously, her heart beating like a wild bird in her chest, a poignant want stirring deep within. Oh, to be in Sam’s arms, to be falling through darkness in sync with him ... the fantasy was so palpable in this moment, she had to call him on it.
“You know, when you touch a girl like that, it gets her thinking.”
“Like this?” His hand moved up her thigh, straying dangerously close to the sweet spot, but circling around her hip pocket to squeeze her bottom.
No brotherly intention there. It was definitely sexual, and the reality stirred hot embers of fear and excitement for Jo.
“Oh, now you’re really asking for it.” She turned to face him, hoping to read his expression.
The spark of passion in his eyes defied the shadows. “I’ve always been asking, Jo.”
The air between them was charged with energy, as he closed the space between their lips.
His kiss stole her breath and captured her spirit. She felt herself suspended, like a delicate leaf floating over the palm of his hand, as his mouth moved over hers, tantalizing and playful.
She reached up to hold on, anchoring herself to his shoulders as she slid into the kiss. Everything around them intensified—the charged air, their racing hearts, the heat firing up inside both of them. Jo didn’t have to guess if Sam was right here with her; she could tell by the groan in his throat and the heat of his palms that he felt it, too.
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