last forever. I’ll have to earn a living again at some point.”
“Well, then you’ll be just like the rest of us,” Jax said, breezily.
“I guess I will,” Allie agreed. It was funny how Jax could be so direct without ever being unkind, she thought. Probably because she didn’t have an unkind bone in her body.
Jax stood up from the table. “I should get going,” she said, a little reluctantly. “I need to be starting dinner.”
“Of course,” Allie said, feeling like she’d already taken up too much of Jax’s time. “Wyatt and I will walk you out to your truck.” Wyatt had just wandered back into the kitchen and had opened the refrigerator. Now he was staring longingly at the strawberries inside. They’d have some for dessert, Allie decided. Over the vanilla ice cream she’d bought at the grocery store that day.
As they started to leave the cabin, though, Jax turned back. She was looking at the buck’s head with the blanket draped over it.
“I know someone who can help you with that,” she said. “And do any other work you need done around here, too.” She doubled back to the kitchen, where Allie had left a notepad and pencil on the counter, and scribbled down a name and phone number. She tore the sheet off and handed it to Allie.
“His name’s Johnny Miller,” she said. “He’s a carpenter and a handyman. He’s pretty old, but his work is first-rate, and I think you’ll find his prices are reasonable.”
“Thank you,” Allie said, studying the paper. “We can use all the help we can get.”
She and Wyatt walked Jax out to her pickup and stood in the driveway until she’d driven out of sight. Then they went back inside. Wyatt seemed a little forlorn, and Allie didn’t blame him. The cabin had seemed somehow brighter, and lighter, with Jax inside of it.
“Come on, kid, you can help me with dinner,” Allie said, feigning cheerfulness. But even to herself, her voice sounded a little hollow.
CHAPTER 6
C aroline knew she’d been sitting at her desk for too long when she felt the familiar knot of pain between her shoulder blades. She sat up straight, clasped her hands behind her head, and arched her back, trying to stretch her cramped muscles. Who would have thought that owning a coffee shop would require so much paperwork? she thought, closing the folder in front of her and filing it under “payroll taxes” in the file cabinet beside the desk.
There was a light tap at the office door, and Frankie, the fry cook, opened it.
“Miss Caroline, I’m going to leave now,” he said, his massive frame filling the entire doorway.
Caroline glanced at the clock on her desk. “Frankie, it’s five o’clock,” she said in surprise. “Why are you still here?”
He shrugged his gigantic shoulders. “I fixed the air-conditioning,” he said. “It’s been on the blink again. Then I cleaned the deep fryers. By then the floor needed another mopping, so I did that, too.”
“Frankie, your shift ended at three o’clock,” Caroline protested.
“I don’t mind working late.”
“I know you don’t,” she said, motioning him into the room. “But that’s not what concerns me.”
Frankie came into her office. It wasn’t easy for him. The room was low ceilinged, and he had to be careful not to let the top of his head scrape against the fluorescent lighting. But he couldn’t very well sit down, either. The only other chair in the room, besides the one Caroline was sitting in, was a rickety-looking folding chair. And both of them knew it wouldn’t support his weight.
“What concerns me, Frankie,” Caroline said, “is that you’re working late because you feel you owe it to me to work late.”
“That’s not it,” he said. “I just like working here.”
“And I like that you like working here,” Caroline assured him. “But, Frankie, you only get paid to work until three o’clock. I wish I could pay you to work beyond then. But I can’t, Frankie. I can’t afford it.
“Well, then you’ll be just like the rest of us,” Jax said, breezily.
“I guess I will,” Allie agreed. It was funny how Jax could be so direct without ever being unkind, she thought. Probably because she didn’t have an unkind bone in her body.
Jax stood up from the table. “I should get going,” she said, a little reluctantly. “I need to be starting dinner.”
“Of course,” Allie said, feeling like she’d already taken up too much of Jax’s time. “Wyatt and I will walk you out to your truck.” Wyatt had just wandered back into the kitchen and had opened the refrigerator. Now he was staring longingly at the strawberries inside. They’d have some for dessert, Allie decided. Over the vanilla ice cream she’d bought at the grocery store that day.
As they started to leave the cabin, though, Jax turned back. She was looking at the buck’s head with the blanket draped over it.
“I know someone who can help you with that,” she said. “And do any other work you need done around here, too.” She doubled back to the kitchen, where Allie had left a notepad and pencil on the counter, and scribbled down a name and phone number. She tore the sheet off and handed it to Allie.
“His name’s Johnny Miller,” she said. “He’s a carpenter and a handyman. He’s pretty old, but his work is first-rate, and I think you’ll find his prices are reasonable.”
“Thank you,” Allie said, studying the paper. “We can use all the help we can get.”
She and Wyatt walked Jax out to her pickup and stood in the driveway until she’d driven out of sight. Then they went back inside. Wyatt seemed a little forlorn, and Allie didn’t blame him. The cabin had seemed somehow brighter, and lighter, with Jax inside of it.
“Come on, kid, you can help me with dinner,” Allie said, feigning cheerfulness. But even to herself, her voice sounded a little hollow.
CHAPTER 6
C aroline knew she’d been sitting at her desk for too long when she felt the familiar knot of pain between her shoulder blades. She sat up straight, clasped her hands behind her head, and arched her back, trying to stretch her cramped muscles. Who would have thought that owning a coffee shop would require so much paperwork? she thought, closing the folder in front of her and filing it under “payroll taxes” in the file cabinet beside the desk.
There was a light tap at the office door, and Frankie, the fry cook, opened it.
“Miss Caroline, I’m going to leave now,” he said, his massive frame filling the entire doorway.
Caroline glanced at the clock on her desk. “Frankie, it’s five o’clock,” she said in surprise. “Why are you still here?”
He shrugged his gigantic shoulders. “I fixed the air-conditioning,” he said. “It’s been on the blink again. Then I cleaned the deep fryers. By then the floor needed another mopping, so I did that, too.”
“Frankie, your shift ended at three o’clock,” Caroline protested.
“I don’t mind working late.”
“I know you don’t,” she said, motioning him into the room. “But that’s not what concerns me.”
Frankie came into her office. It wasn’t easy for him. The room was low ceilinged, and he had to be careful not to let the top of his head scrape against the fluorescent lighting. But he couldn’t very well sit down, either. The only other chair in the room, besides the one Caroline was sitting in, was a rickety-looking folding chair. And both of them knew it wouldn’t support his weight.
“What concerns me, Frankie,” Caroline said, “is that you’re working late because you feel you owe it to me to work late.”
“That’s not it,” he said. “I just like working here.”
“And I like that you like working here,” Caroline assured him. “But, Frankie, you only get paid to work until three o’clock. I wish I could pay you to work beyond then. But I can’t, Frankie. I can’t afford it.
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