The Turnaround Treasure Shop (6 page)

BOOK: The Turnaround Treasure Shop
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Another morning. Another dollar closer to Turnaround Treasures — maybe.

She walked towards the kitchen doors and the day ahead.

What had Nick meant by
maybe
she could do something to thank him? She'd been considering homemade meals or spring cleaning his house. She'd have walked his dog if he'd had one. She could polish up his furniture, or perhaps decorate a hall stand or some other masculine piece he might like. But the look in his eyes as he'd focussed in on her had suggested he wasn't thinking about those types of thanks. The darkening of his eyes had been deliberate. ‘Maybe' she could do something for him.

Lily pushed through the door to the kitchen, thoughts of various
maybes
tumbling in her mind like the flickering pages of a picture book. A kissing picture book. A touching, feeling, limbs wrapped around limbs picture book. Pictures she had no right to be seeing in her head.

So why was she enjoying every turn of a page?

She dropped her handbag onto a table, shuffled her jacket off her shoulders, frowned and sighed deeply. ‘Too many kissing books.'

‘Too many what?' Dan asked from behind her.

Lily spun around with a gasp. She hadn't realised she'd spoken aloud.

‘Interesting morning so far?' Charlotte asked.

Lily laughed. Not just interesting.
Invigorating
.

***

Having Lily's car in the workshop changed the atmosphere for Nick. It was like having a piece of Lily in his most private space. The space Nick used to configure and build. The place where his thoughts were usually exact and considering. Today, his thoughts were abstract and confusing. And a lot of them downright foolish.

He'd nearly died of shock from pleasure when she'd opened the door to him dressed in next to nothing. The sight of her long, lithe, near-naked body had almost snapped him in two. Those sporty shorts clinging to the tops of her legs had him thinking all sorts of scenarios he had no right to think. That crazy connection they'd shared yesterday over the bonnet of her car was playing on repeat. A momentary eye contact had changed the dynamics in his brain.

Scrambled them, more likely. A second filled with vitality. A moment where he'd thought it might be possible that Lily was attracted to him after all.

But what would a soft mannered, kind-hearted and utterly beautiful lady like Lily see in him? His body was full of scars, his mind wracked with doubts about himself. He felt he knew the truth about life and how utterly useless the motto ‘United and Undaunted' seemed to be in what was now his ‘real life'.

He was an ex-naval officer with a bitter ex-wife and an uncommonly dangerous lifestyle he'd sought but chosen to leave. What did that mean? He wasn't sure. He hadn't quite come to terms with civvy life yet and with how hard it could be. He knew enough about himself though and had learned to control the disappointments he held tightly inside him about how life — military or civvy — could mess with a person's head.

He slammed the wrench in his hand onto his workbench. How could he even contemplate starting a relationship with Lily if he wasn't convinced he was worthy of her? If he wasn't certain she'd
want
him to? If he took his feelings for her somewhere and it didn't work out the townspeople would descend on him for breaking her heart. For taking advantage of her, although it was more likely she'd break his heart. If he ever got the chance to kiss her she'd probably
shatter
his heart.

Considering the doubts he had about who he was and what he had to offer, he should stop dreaming now before the idea of
Lily and Nick
together forever
took further shape and started giving him sleepless nights. He had nothing to offer her except support from the sidelines. So it looked like he'd be settling for restless nights. ‘And don't forget that,' he said under his breath. No more getting carried away with sensual thoughts of what he wanted to do with Lily Johnson.

‘Hi, Nick.'

Nick looked up guiltily as Andy walked through the barn doors and into the workshop. Great. He'd been caught in a thread of sexy notions about Lily by her son. He took himself under control. ‘Come on in, Andrew. How'd you get here?'

The boy shrugged. ‘Walked.'

‘But I was at your house early this morning. You could have come with us.'

‘I wasn't up.' Another shoulder shrug. ‘Mum said last night that I should come and pick up the bike.' He nodded to the corner of the workshop where his sister's bicycle leaned against a stable door. All fixed. ‘I forgot this morning. Sorry.'

‘That's okay.'

Nick had been planning on taking the bike to Lily's house this afternoon. Around the time she'd be finishing work. He didn't see why she shouldn't have a lift home, but he also understood why she'd asked her son to come collect the bike. Pride.

‘You're just in time,' he told Andy. ‘About to start work on your car.' If the boy's interest in mechanics was as high as Nick thought, he might be able to persuade Andy to stay a couple of hours. Then give him, the bike
and
Lily a lift home.

‘I love your knives.' Andy spied the knives laid out on the workbench and bent over them, hands clenched behind his back. Obviously desperate to touch them.

‘I've just put an edge on those,' Nick told him. ‘They're much sharper than shop bought knives. Just so you know.' He wandered over and picked up a drop-point hunter. ‘This one is going to a fisherman in Italy.' His paring and peeling knives were doing well in and around town, but his drop-point hunters sold all over the world.

‘How many hours to make it?'

‘A few.' Like around 20. ‘That's why they sell for a high price. Handmade, custom-made. As the client wants them. Mostly.' Nick had his signature blades and his way of crafting them. Occasionally he put together an artistic blade, not meant for use, just for cabinet display.

‘Mum loves the knives you made for Kookaburra's. She said they're the best she's ever used. Ever.'

‘Your mum cooks there sometimes, doesn't she?'

‘Yeah. Dan's there all the time, but Charlotte only does mornings. Her pastry chef stuff.'

Nick nodded. ‘She'd got a child to look after.'

‘Olivia goes to the child-care centre in the mornings.'

There'd been a baby-rush since Nick arrived in town, prompting an upgrade of the child-care centre Sammy Granger had established in a building next to the Town Hall. Swallow's Fall's population had gone a few over the 100 mark that year and the town had held a street party. Ethan Granger had made a brand new population sign, now swinging on a post at the southern entrance to Main Street, by the yellow house that used to be a B&B. Dan and Charlotte Bradford's house.

There were smart people in Swallow's Fall. Talented people. Nick admired Ethan Granger's work as a carpenter, although being the local vet, Ethan did it in his spare time. Dan Bradford, Nick's running partner, was not only a savvy businessman but a draughtsman and builder.

Nick's knife-making had been a hobby since childhood and he'd intended to concentrate on growing it as a full-time business from his hideaway in Swallow's Fall but he found himself encouraged by all this Swallow's Fall smartness to offer a second business: machine and engine repairs. Cars, tractors, ride-on lawn mowers, whatever needed fixing. He had no need of a regular income because he had savings, a Navy pension and an inheritance from his father. More importantly — after the first six months in town, he needed something to keep his hands and his brain occupied.

‘How's your mum?' he asked Andy, then curled his fingers into the palms of his hands. Silly question. He'd just seen Andy's mum this morning.

‘My mum?' Andy frowned. ‘She's fine. Wasn't she fine when you dropped her off at work?'

Nick laughed. ‘Yeah, sorry. I was thinking more about how she's been coping without the car.'

‘Doesn't worry her. Nothing worries Mum.'

‘Really?' Nick made a quick evaluation. Of course Lily wouldn't let her children know how hard life might sometimes be. She'd hide that from them.

‘She's fun,' Andy said. ‘She makes us laugh.'

‘Does she?' Nick's smile warmed his mouth. Lily made life fun for her kids? ‘How?'

Andy guffawed. ‘Because she's mad. Like real crazy sometimes. She'll be cooking dinner, or working on her furniture stuff then suddenly a favourite song will come on the radio and she'll turn the volume up real loud — like, head-banging loud.' Andy's grin was so big it told Nick the boy loved this zany, uncontrolled side of his mum. ‘And she'll dance around the house.' Andy shook his head. ‘She's mad.'

She's beautiful
. Nick didn't voice that out loud. ‘She sounds like a cool mum.'

‘She says dancing releases the happy hormones.' Andy stepped back and looked momentarily embarrassed about what he'd said. ‘Not that
I
do any dancing.'

‘Of course not.' Nick gave an understanding shake of his head while the vision of a younger Andy holding hands with his mother as she danced him around the house came clearly to his mind. The little boy laughing and enjoying himself. ‘I bet your sister likes it though. Women like dancing and stuff.'

‘Yeah, bullshit stuff.' Andy blushed. The way he'd pronounced the semi-swearword, like he was enjoying the taste of it in his mouth, like he felt grownup when he said it told Nick the kid had a lot to hide and was feeling his way to manhood. Still nervous and unsure but nearly ready to buck the bronco.

‘Yeah,' Nick said in an off-hand way. ‘Bullshit stuff. But whatever makes them happy, eh?' He turned to the car, taking the attention off Andy.

The kid watched him for a few minutes. He asked a couple of questions, which Nick answered, giving the further explanations of what he thought might be wrong with the fuel pump and what needed to be done.

‘I was thinking about something, Nick, and I'd like to run it by you.'

‘Sure.' Nick picked up a rag and wiped his hands.

‘It's about Mum.'

Nick's heartbeat kicked up. ‘What about her?' He tilted his weight to his hip and studied Andy in what he hoped showed a man-to-man interest, not a man-wants-your-mother interest.

‘She hasn't got much.'

Nick nodded and waited.

‘And I think she's worked hard for me and Janie-Louise and we'd like her to be happy, so do you think…'

Nick cleared his throat and did his best to keep his focus on the kid. If Andy was about to suggest Nick helped his mum towards a little happiness in life — like dating-happiness — he wasn't sure how he'd answer. Surely the kid wasn't going to—

‘Do you think I should leave school early and get a job?'

The relief in Nick's chest turned to a ball of pride in an instant.

‘I could earn money,' Andy said. ‘And then Mum could get her shop.'

‘What shop?' he asked, trying not to let the emotion fill his throat. The boy wanted to earn money in order that his mad, crazy, laughter-making, dancing mother had a happy life.

‘The shop on the corner. The one she cleans. She wants to lease it and open up a second-hand knick-knack shop.'

Lily had a dream? Lily was working towards something other than keeping her children fed and clothed and schooled?

Andy was frowning now. ‘You know, the shop she cleans.'

‘I know the one. She wants to run it?'

‘She calls it her impossible dream.'

The most beautiful woman in the world had an
impossible
dream. Nick fought his sensory reactions: wonder, and maybe a hint of sadness that life had put Lily in a position of having to fight for everything she needed. ‘So you think leaving school early and getting a low paid job is going to help?' he asked.

‘Well. It would, wouldn't it?'

Nick shook his head, careful to make it a measured move. ‘No. What you need to do is finish school and go to college. What you need to do, Andrew, is plan for your future. A great future as an ace machinist. That's what will make your mum happy, believe me.'

Andy blinked a number of times, mouth pursed in thought. ‘That
is
what I want.'

‘So go get it.'

‘I just want to help Mum out a bit. Now.'

Nick hooked the rag onto the car bonnet. ‘How old are you?'

Andy straightened, as Nick had. ‘I'll be 15 in six months.'

‘Heading into the last two years of high school.'

‘Yeah.'

‘So you'll have a lot of homework and study on your plate, but if you're keen to work, I could use a hand one day a week. Say on Sundays? I'd pay you. Fifteen bucks an hour.'

Andy's eyes widened. ‘Fifteen bucks? That's way above what any kid I know earns.'

‘Well, you're not any kid, and you're working in a remote and rural setting. You get additional monetary compensation for that.'

‘Really?'

‘Let's start at four hours every Sunday, then work it up to six or seven hours if your study isn't affected.'

Nick could see the kid calculating his earnings in his head. ‘I could give it to Mum.'

Nick shook his head again. ‘No, Andrew. You could try to give some to your mum, maybe quarter of it, but you know your mum won't take your money, don't you?'

Andy nodded acceptance of this truth. ‘I was working every Saturday at the agricultural museum, but they don't charge entry for that so I wasn't really needed because people can just wander in and out whenever they like. I knew they were only giving me the job to help me out. Felt bad about it, so I resigned.'

Nick held onto his smile. A man-boy at the age of 14 had resigned a paying job for the good of his town. ‘Well I could use your skills, Andrew. And I'm in a position to pay you. So long as it doesn't interfere with your school work.'

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