Page 116 of Hometown Girl
He frowned. “By yourself?”
She cocked her head to one side. “I’m a perfectly capable woman, Mr.Barlow. I can haul a few boxes out of the house.”
He nodded. “Noted.”
“But I might need help with some of the really heavy stuff, so I’ll let you know.”
He laughed, kissed her again and headed outside. His crew had been roped into helping set up for the barn sale, but thankfully no one had complained.
Drew stepped back to admire the progress so far. He’d focused most of the last few weeks on that barn and it showed. The place looked better than new. Once they had inventory, they could turn it back into a store.
He’d fixed the checkout counters—all eight of them—as well as the shelves that would hold whatever Beth and Molly decided to sell. In the back near the coolers was the apple-cider donut counter, and across from that were open rows perfect for bushel baskets and bags of apples. It had all been cleaned and repaired. Just off to the right of the entrance, the fudge counter had been rebuilt and new cases installed.
It looked better than it ever had, and he was proud of his guys. Proud of himself. He felt like he’d made a real contribution—and more importantly, it would make Beth happy.
If Walter was right about the orchards and the trees were in good shape, there was a chance they really could open by fall. They wouldn’t have everything finished, but they could certainly get the store and bakery up and running. He relished the sense of accomplishment for a long moment, then picked up his toolbox and moved outside.
The guys had this under control. Today, he had another project for himself—the petting-zoo barn, which didn’t need as much work as he’d originally thought. A few days—a week, tops—and he’d have that one sealed up.
It felt good to cross things off his list. It felt good to go to Beth with visible progress.
Maybe it would ease the worry in her mind a little.
He found Roxie lying in the shade of an old oak tree while Daisy ran in circles around Blue. He hadn’t had much time to work with Molly’s dog, and she went rogue every chance she got. Eventually, she would have to be trained.
But not today.
Drew walked through the petting-zoo barn, assessing the damage to each stall. He’d have to pull out rotted wood and start over with the new lumber he’d purchased last week. An old radio hung from the corner. He flipped it on and found the nearest station without static. An oldies station. It would do.
He found a sledgehammer in the bottom of his toolbox. He’d start by clearing away the rotten wood. When he rebuilt the stalls, he’d create some order in the barn—judging by what was there now, this setup had been a last-minute hodgepodge of cagelike stalls that Harold had built as they’d procured more animals.
He didn’t know what kind of animals Beth and Molly intended to put in their petting zoo or when, but it didn’t matter. It felt good to slam the hammer into the wood, to knock out the old in favor of the new.
Normally, when he worked, it was to drive away some kind of aggression. Today, he worked to work, as if something had taken the edge off his sorrow.
There was only one thing that had changed. Beth.
She made him happy. How long had it been since he’d felt that way?
An image of two kids rolling down a huge hill at the back of the Fairwind property raced through his mind. Had it been that long?
A part of him still felt guilty for enjoying what Jess couldn’t. But he tried to focus on nothing but the task at hand. As he worked, the radio blared songs from the fifties and sixties, most of which Drew knew from his own childhood. It’s what happened when a kid took long road trips with parents who insisted on listening to Chubby Checker and Buddy Holly.
He pounded at the wooden stalls, some sections more rotten than others, all of it easy to remove. He stacked the garbage wood in a neat pile just outside the barn, doing his best not to think about the fact that he’d told Beth they’d talk tonight.He’dtalk. He’d tell her the real reason he was there—all of it.
Bishop would likely uncover it all in a matter of days, and Drew couldn’t let her find out from anyone but him. He knew there was a chance it would make her mad—she did have a temper—but he hoped she would understand.
She could tell him to leave, and he wouldn’t blame her, but it wasn’t what he wanted. Not only because he still had no answers, but because he thought he might love her. Leaving now—after he’d finally admitted it to himself—how would he live with that?
More pounding, more hauling.
“Surfin’ USA” by the Beach Boys rang out through the barn. The upbeat music reminded him of Jess. Years ago, the jaunty melody would’ve suited Fairwind, but now? The two seemed a complete contradiction.
The song ended, and the DJ’s voice interrupted Drew’s thoughts.
“And now we’ve got a special treat—a one-hit wonder by fifties doo-wop group The Chords. Let it take you back to a time life really could be a dream. Here’s The Chords singing ‘Sh-Boom.’”
A familiar tune bounced through the air, filling sad space with another fun melody. Four men sang harmonies that begged feet to move, a song that enticed even the most conservative listeners to dance. It was a playful tune that touted the ironic idea that life could be anything other than painful—that it could, in fact, be a dream. And as the words filled the barn, Drew’s mind drifted back years, setting him right there in one of the stalls beside Jess.
