Page 46 of All Dressed Up

When all was said and done, maybe Will intervening was a good thing. Otherwise, instead of a fist to the face, a full-on murder might have taken place.

She shuddered. A cold body on the floor would’ve been very bad for business.

The door chimes signaled the start of her day. She turned and took a few steps to greet her customer. “Good mor—”

The greeting died in her throat while her fist tightened around the sheers.

This was not the person she’d thought she’d see first thing this morning, and not the man she wanted to be alone with in her shop. She took a few cautious steps back until her bottom backed up against the worktable.

“Hello, Miss Foster.”

What is Emma’s dad doing here?

The nerve he must have to come back after last night. Did he want another fist to the face? Because when Will arrived, that might happen. She glanced down at her watch. He could be here any minute.

The old man stepped in, removing his worn, tan cowboy hat. His left eye swollen tight, a deep red hue from where Will had hit him.

Despite herself, she couldn’t help but feel sorry for the man because that bruise had to hurt. She set her scissors down. “What are you doing here?”

“I’d like to apologize for last night. I had no right to come in and start trouble.”

You mean break in. She didn’t want to go there and ask him how exactly he’d entered her locked store in the first place. There hadn’t been any signs of forced entry. “I’m very busy.”

“I see you’re in need of some help. I’d like to fill out an application.”

Come again?She couldn’t have heard that right. “For what?”

“A job. I’m looking for employment.” He stepped over to the window and removed the Help Wanted sign. “Is the job still open?”

Anger bubbled up inside her. The hell it was. The nerve of this man. Rachel marched over and snatched the sign from him. “I’m not hiring anymore.” Mary could take back her stupid sign. “Sorry for the confusion.”

The old man didn’t take the cue to leave. “Those are beautiful flowers.” He pointed to the display on her workbench.

“Thank you.”

“Mountain garland I’ve heard them called. Pretty flowers, Clarkias are. Not your typical sunflowers or daisies. Delicate, but they’ll last a long time.”

She moved to her workbench, setting the sign down. So the man knew a little bit about flowers. Didn’t mean she had to hire him. Right now, he was wasting her time. “Mr. Stevens...”

“Taylor,” he corrected, “Sheila took her last name back. I don’t blame her.”

“Right,” she deadpanned. There was no way she was getting involved in this unwanted family reunion. “Mr. Taylor, I can’t hire you. Emma’s my friend, and I’ve known Sheila for most of my life. Surely, you understand.”

He didn’t budge. Maybe he didn’t get it.

A few seconds ticked by before he finally started apologizing again, “I’m really sorry about last night. It was stupid, I reckon, to think I could show up here after all this time and everything would be fine. That my wife would forgive me and that my daughter would want to see me.”

Rachel studied the old man as he continued to apologize for the trouble he caused. Was that a mist forming in the one eye that didn’t meet Will’s fist last night?

“I’m looking to make amends. It’s a pretty lengthy list.”

He had that right. She wasn’t related or involved, but even she knew that the Buttermilk Falls welcome wagon would not show up for this man unless it was to personally escort him out of town.

“I have a place to stay.” He continued to plead his case. “Mel’s got an apartment on his property. We go way back, and he’s forgiven me. He’s letting me crash there.”

Rachel bit her lip. It was nice for the beloved owner of the Star Lite to help this man out, but it didn’t mean she had to join Mel in his generosity. She couldn’t. Not under the circumstances. She picked up her sheers. “I’m sorry, Mr. Taylor. I can’t hire you. It wouldn’t be righ—”

“I know Mary’s here,” he blurted out.

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