Page 579 of Cold Case, Warm Hearts

“Go away!”

“Open the door.”

Why could he not see that she needed her privacy?

“Honey, I need to talk to you.”

Why was it always about what he needed?

His knocking grew louder. “Cindy!”

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and jerked her hair out of her face. “Oh all right. I’m coming!” She opened the door then turned her back on him and sat on the bed. She couldfeel his eyes on her, but he didn’t say anything. After a moment, he sat beside her.

She sniffed and looked down at her hands clasped in her lap. He touched her arm but she kept her eyes on her hands.

“Honey, I’m so sorry. That night your mother died, I was so upset—out of my mind. I didn’t think.”

A sob started building in Cindy’s chest and she hiccupped it down. “I miss her.” Her voice sounded small in her ears, too small to make any real difference.

He put his arm around her. “I miss her too.”

Cindy shook her head. “She won’t be here for my next birthday. Who’ll bake my cake?”

Avery hugged her tight. “Oh sweetheart. We’ll get through this. I promise you that we’ll get through it together.”

“So you’re not going to make me live with Aunt Judith?”

“What? Of course not. We’re going to stay here in this house.” His voice broke. “And we’re gonna keep your mother right here with us,” he said, putting his balled fist over his chest. They let the silence settle between them before he spoke. “I reckon I’m gonna have to learn how to bake.”

“The last time you baked Mom a cake it was only an inch tall.”

“Yeah, I guess that baking power I couldn’t find in the cabinet was a little more important than I realized.” He paused. “But your mother was a good sport about it. She ate as much of it as she could stomach.”

“Yeah, beating her chest in between bites just to get it down her throat.” Cindy laughed then realized what she had done. She shifted on the bed.

“It’s okay to laugh. Your mother would want us to be happy.” Avery looked at her. “You know that, right?”

She shrugged. “I guess.”

“We’re gonna be all right.”

She buried her head in the curve of his shoulder. “I hope so.”

Avery gotout of his truck and turned side to side, stretching his back. In his younger days, he never thought he would look forward to going to work on Monday, but the weekends loomed long and lonely since Susan passed. Lately, Cindy was spending more time with her friends, which was a good thing because it indicated that she was getting back to her normal self, but he missed their time together. He shook his head. The thoughts that rushed him were tangled ropes with no ends. Too much introspection could drive a man crazy. At least he could count on work to provide a much-needed distraction. He drank in a breath of musky air and exhaled slowly, letting the moisture linger on his tongue.

He turned and faced the mill. The sawmill resting in the shoulder of the mountain made a postcard picture. On the right he could see the log yard. Each stack of logs was marked with a different color, indicating when the logs had arrived at the mill. Over to the left were neat stacks of lumber waiting to be trucked to their final destinations. The mill itself was a two-story structure. The band saw and filing room were located on the top floor. The ground floor was a conglomeration of chains that moved the logs and lumber to the appropriate locations. Protruding from the left side of the building was a long chain where the finished lumber came out. It was known as the green chain because the lumber coming out was fresh and would need to be dried before it could be sold.

Even in its stillness the sawmill breathed of life. Its rawness was intoxicating. He didn’t realize until Susan’s death how much he depended on the sheer routine of the mill to restore a measure of sanity to his life. He could go to work and get lost inthe monotony of it all, much as he’d done for the bulk of his life. It was here that he could pretend Susan would still be waiting for him at the end of the day. It was here—where the forces of man and nature blended to transform ordinary logs into the building blocks of life—that the sawdust soaked into his bones as sure as life-sustaining marrow. Here, he might have a chance.

The spell was broken by wheels crunching gravel. Avery turned to see his secretary, Barb, drive into the parking lot. He watched her get out of her car. “You’re here early.”

“So are you.” Barb smiled and mounted the stairs in front of him.

A couple of hours later,Barb came in holding the pink squares that had Avery’s phone messages scribbled on them. He thumbed through the stack.

“Isn’t it beautiful outside today?” Barb buzzed around the office, straightening the papers in his in-box and stacking files. Avery couldn’t help but notice her snug jeans, tucked neatly in her high-top red leather boots. Finally, she sat in a chair across from his desk and ran her slender fingers through her thick sable hair. The faded jeans and denim shirt clung to her lean body in all the right places. She was a looker, and she knew it. The kind of woman who had trouble written all over her. Her hazel eyes sparkled with mischief. Only a blind man would fail to realize that she had her eye on him. He’d never taken her flirting seriously, but lately he was starting to feel like a coon on hunting day.

“How many trucks do we have coming in?” he asked.

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