Page 55 of Single Mom's Mountain Men
“You finding everything you need at the grocery store?” Mitch says, interrupting my musings.
“What? Oh… err… yup,” I answer, hastily pulling my mind back from its libidinous fantasies. "I'm making honey-glazed cinnamon rolls next week."
"Charlie'll go crazy for that."
I grin. "I know. That's why I’m making them." I identified Charlie’s sweet tooth early on and I noticed that he had a particular passion for anything with cinnamon in it. A week ago, when I added a little bit of cinnamon to the apple pie I’d made for dessert, he nearly cleared the entire dish before the rest of the men had a chance to get a taste. And then he and Wes tackled each other to the floor for the last slice. I chuckle at the memory and feel a little sad again. That tackle had been a friendly battle, unlike their other fight. That first fight was just roughhousing. The last onewas serious enough that they're not speaking to each other now.
And despite what Mitch says, I know it's all my fault.
“They'll be fine,” Mitch says and I glance at him. He has an amused look on his face. “You’re worried about Charlie and Wes again aren’t you?”
“How did you know?”
“It's written all over your face. Don’t worry. No irreparable damage has been done. It’s just boys competing over a beautiful woman. It’s normal.”
I blush but Mitch doesn't react to the fact that he just called me beautiful. He treated it like it was common knowledge.
When Wes said it, I could brush it off as him flirting. He probably said that to just about every woman he came across. But Mitch isn’t the type to say things he doesn’t mean.
Does he actually find me beautiful?
“Uncle Mitch,” Maddie asks.
“Yes, Maddie?”
“Why do you live on a farm, and why is everything made of wood?”
Mitch grins at her in the rearview mirror. “It’s not a farm, it’s a timber yard. And the house is a log cabin surrounded by the forest. We live there because it belongs to the three of us – Wes, Charlie and me. My grandad bought the land a long time ago, and mom handed it down to us when she died."
“What’s a log cabin?”
“Well, it’s a house made of timber logs. If you work in a forest like we do then the most sensible way to build a house is to build it out of the local timber. And your uncles work in that forest, so it only makes sense to live there."
"Is that why you're always in there cutting wood?" Katie asks. "You sell it to people?"
“That's my clever girl." As Katie beams, Mitch continues, "My parents have been in the timber business since before I was born. My dad would wake up at the crack of dawn to get to work with his men and he would come back late at night. It was tough, backbreaking work, but he always had a smile on his face every single day. I never got it before, but now I do. There's something freeing, almost relaxing, about that type of work. No sitting in offices all day working on machines. No endless meetings. Just man and nature. Logging may be my job, but it's also a labor of love for me."
“Do your brothers feel the same?" I ask because I've never seen this enthusiasm and glow when they talk about the work. Wes treats his job like a bother and something to be avoided, and Charlie is compliant but always seems like he would much rather be doing something else. Like working on my car, for example.
I might be wrong, but neither of them seems to like it as much as Mitch.
But then Mitch shrugs to answer the question.
"More or less," he says. "I'm pretty sure Charlie does at least. And Wes likes to mess around a lot but that's because he's practically still a kid. When he gets older he'll understand the importance of keeping the place running and holding on to our family legacy. We're honoring our parents too."
“I think your parents would be honored to see you guys pursuing what makes you happy," I point out gently. "At least that's how I would feel with my girls."
Mitch grunts noncommittally. I watch him silently.
My first evaluation of Mitch weeks ago was that he was the type of man who had difficulty relinquishing control. In the same vein, he holds onto any responsibility given to him, refusing to part with it even if it drives him mad. It worriesme. He works so hard and has no social life. That can't be healthy.
And worse, he imposes those same expectations on his brothers too, without considering their wishes. Maybe he thinks they share the same views about their responsibility to their mom and dad to maintain their legacy, but I don't think they do. Particularly Wes. He takes no enjoyment from the job. It doesn't fit his personality at all. Wes is an extrovert and needs a job where he can be around people. Something that challenges him socially as well as physically.
“Have you thought about hiring more hands?” I ask.
“Eventually,” Mitch responds. “Right now, we have people who come around on a contract basis, part-time. We spend most of our profit on marketing and purchasing state-of-the-art tools to make our job easier. We're trying to get clients as fast as possible and then once we’ve managed to make a comfortable name for ourselves, we can look into hiring more hands to make the job easier."
I nod. I want to suggest that maybe hiring more hands earlier would help with their growth, but I don't want to irritate him, and in truth I know so little about the timber business.
