Page 14 of 40 and (Tired of) Faking It
“Anyone who’s just handy could never accomplish a job like this.”
“Tell her that, please.” Lily parked near the house, and they both exited the car. As they approached, Erin walked out of the open four-car garage, her hair in her typical ponytail, her usual tee and overalls on display. A thin flannel shirt was tied around her hips. She greeted them with a warm smile.
“Mr. Lane,” she said, not bothering to wait on introductions, “I take it Lily has informed you of her crazy-ass idea.”
He gestured to the house behind her. “I’m almost certain it’s not crazy, seeing this.”
“Did she tell you I’ve only had my general contracting license for three years?”
Damn the woman; she was determined to put herself in the worst light. “You’ve been doing the same work for much longer than that. You refused to apply; that’s the only reason you didn’t have the official license.” She cocked her hip, planting a fist on it. “Are you going to tell him you apprenticed under Ed Grant of Grant & Gammon Construction in Asheville, and regularly work with Jerome Richardson, that architect in Atlanta?”
JD’s eyes widened at the names of two of the most famous men in the building community in the Southeastern US. The expression made Lily snicker in Erin’s direction. “Told ya. I’ll leave you two to talk.”
And she did just that, wandering into the house, admiring the midcentury Flank Lloyd Wright vibes and the gorgeous view from the massive wall of windows overlooking the valley. Erin had obviously worked hard with the crew here. It was a stunning home, nothing like the small Craftsmen she owned. Just off Main Street, close enough to walk to work, but it was beautiful no matter how small. And Lily loved it.
Erin and JD came through the kitchen behind her, and she half listened as they argued about the best contracting firms in the area, expected costs, construction timelines, whether Ober Gatlinburg was the best skiing setup or if they could manage something more impressive at Black Wolf Resort. The name sent a tingle down her spine. As much as the resort meant change, it could also mean a lot of positives for her little town.
“What did you think?” Lily couldn’t resist asking an hour later as they left Erin to get back to work, and headed down the mountain.
JD gave a secretive smile, not looking her way. “I think you have surprised me.”
“In a good way?”
“In a very good way.” He turned, and that dimple flashed in his cheek as he grinned. “I can’t wait to see more.”
The tingles returned, morphing into an excited shiver as she drove back toward Gatlinburg.
Chapter Seven
“There’s somewhere we need to stop on the way back, if that’s okay.”
JD ignored the passing scenery—Gatlinburg at its most crowded—in favor of watching her navigate traffic. Lily was far more interesting anyway. “Of course.”
On the edge of town, she pulled into a ’50s-style sandwich shop that, surprisingly, had a large selection of out-of-the-box offerings that made his mouth water. They picked up lunch for three, though he still didn’t know who the third person was, and continued toward Black Wolf’s Bluff. Instead of stopping in town, Lily drove straight through and turned onto one of the twisty, narrow lanes that skirted the edges of the national park. Within half an hour they drove down one of the foothills and the forest broke to reveal a wide valley spread out before them. Lily nosed her car onto a dirt driveway, the path taking them to a small farmhouse nestled in the woods to one side of the meadow.
The sight pulled JD forward in his seat, his breath stilling. Long waves of grass blew in a gentle breeze, dotted with Queen Anne’s lace, wild daisies, and some kind of sparse yellow wildflowers he couldn’t name. Dogwood trees blossomed in the surrounding woods, splashes of soft white and pink color among the thick green leaves. Staring out over the acres of flat land nestled at the feet of mountains, he felt a strange sense of…not peace, not quiet, but maybe…calm? That couldn’t be it, but…it was. As if the jumble of goals, directives, analysis, and problem-solving that usually filled his head had recessed in the wake of a rush of emotion as he took in the sight before him.
He stepped from the car after Lily parked in front of the farmhouse, his gaze still stuck on the view. “This definitely isn’t New York.”
“No.” Lily rounded the hood of her car, coming to stand beside him. “Not New York. This is Easton Cove.”
“Easton?”
She gripped her elbows, giving him a small shrug.
Sensing a sudden shyness much like he’d seen in her yesterday morning at the coffee shop, he searched his mind for a comment to put her back at ease. “I don’t see any bodies of water other than that stream over there. Why is it called a cove?”
“‘Cove’ is another word for a meadow between mountains.”
“So…a valley?”
She gave him an arch look that had his laughter breaking free. “A specific type of valley, yes. There are coves all over the Smoky Mountains—”
The door to the house opened, interrupting Lily’s explanation. A man stepped onto the porch, tall and a bit lanky, his shoulders stooped by the years. Blondish-white curls covered his head. “Whatcha you doing here,punkin’?”
Punkin’?JD hid his smile at the nickname and considered the man as he descended the steps, taking his time. He was older, maybe in his eighties or even beyond, given the wrinkles on his skin and the shakiness suggested by his shuffling pace. In the sun JD could see the man’s eyes were the same color eyes as Lily’s.
Easton.
