Page 31 of Making New Plans

Before Chloe could answer, Carter stomped up to the desk. “I’m here to help Chloe,” he said, making it clear that he wouldn’t be helping me.

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Our coffee machine is fine.”

“Yeah. Because of me.”

Chloe piped up before I could snap back at him. “He’s here to measure the shelves that need to be replaced.”

When neither of us moved and continued to glare at each other, she rambled on. “You know, ever since high school, Carter’s been a massive geek for electronics, machines, handy work, you name it. One time, he built this dollhouse for his little sister as part of his shop class project. Painted it hot pink and lime green with sparkles, just like she wanted.”

“Chloe!” Carter growled. And for once, I wasn’t on the receiving end of his trademark scowl.

But she smiled angelically and patted the backwoods bear on his arm. “You know where the shelves are. Have fun, sweetheart.”

My heart stumbled a bit on the endearment, but it sounded more like what a younger sister would say to her brother. Especially while teasing him. And judging by the way Carter’s eyes softened from seething to good-humored, he didn’t mind. He stalked toward the basement without another word.

The smallest bubble of envy rose in my stomach. “How’d you do that?” I said, staring after him.

I’d never been able to handle people like that. I could be intimidating, sure. But I wasn’t the greatest at softening moods or egos or anything that required a people-loving nature. Not like Chloe.

“Oh,” she said, pulling her planner from her bag and setting it up on the desk. “Carter can come off like a jerk, but really, he’s very protective of his town, his family, and his friends. Even a perceived threat will unleash the beast. But if you land in one of those protected categories…” She pinned me with a hard look, like the kind a teacher gives when they’re about to share important information for a test. “Then you’ll have him in your corner for life.”

My mouth opened. Hell, I didn’t even know what I was going to say. That I’d never had a friend for life, or even one that lasted through a school year? That secretly I wanted that very much and had always been jealous of people who made friends so easily?

But the words refused to come out. The front doors opening again interrupted the awkward moment.

Chloe waved to Sal. “Ah, your grandmother is here with the extra fans.”

Sal carried two large fans into the lodge, her cane dangling from her arm. I’d always suspected that cane, something she’d been carrying around since I was a kid, was more of a power move than a necessity.

“Where do you want them?” she barked.

“Right here. Hunter will take them down to the basement.”

Sal deposited the fans next to the desk. “You can keep them until Monday. I’m teaching my surprise hybrid fitness class that night. You’ll be there, right?”

Chloe’s cheeks paled, but she smiled weakly under Sal’s stare. “Um, of course. If I can get away.”

“You teach fitness classes?” I blurted out.

Sal gave me a haughty look. “Yes, I do. At Uffda, the new fitness facility in town. I’m one of several instructors there. My classes are extremely popular.”

By choice or by force? I glanced at Chloe, but she wouldn’t meet my eyes. Before I could ask any more of the stupid questions crowding my head, I picked up the fans, nodded at Sal, and all but sprinted for the basement. Carter seemed easier to handle at the moment than the drill sergeant masquerading as an old lady.

Henrietta had removed the standing water, but a distinctive wet mildew smell hung in the air. Hopefully, the fans would take care of that and the lingering dampness.

Carter did an excellent job of pretending I didn’t exist as I set up the fans and he continued measuring the shelves.

Reaching deep down for a pleasant tone, I asked, “So, woodwork. You’ve had an interest in it since high school?”

Carter let the measuring tape slap back into its spool and penciled something on a notepad. I rolled my eyes away from him and was prepared to let it go when he answered.

“Since elementary school. My grandpa was a carpenter who taught me to whittle.”

“Oh, that explains the flannel then.”

Carter slowly turned to face me. For several long seconds, he seemed to size me up. Then he said, “Yes, I take my flannel obsession seriously. It’s a tradition going back generations in my family.”

A surprised chuckle erupted from my lips, and I caught a flash of a smile behind Carter’s beard. He went back to his measuring, his decency quota probably used up for the day. I headed for the stairs.

---