Authors: Violet Walker
A
door slammed, and a tallish, broad-shouldered man walked out from behind the garage, wiping his hands on a rag. James Thompson, the project foreman, was one of those Dutch-descended mountain men whose families had occupied the Catskills since the 1600s. He looked the part, too: sharp features, white blond hair, eyes like chips of lake ice. His usual uniform of work boots and jeans was supplemented with a battered fleece-lined bomber jacket. He always looked a little grim, but when he saw Anna in the passenger seat, he offered her a small smile.
“Hey, Boss,” he greeted Henry in his low, growly voice as they stepped out of the Cherokee. He paused and took a deep breath, his expression going a shade grimmer. “We got some delays. Oil guy won’t be here until after the holiday, half his staff is on vacation. Same with the propane guy for the stove. I went out and got you a twenty-pound tank and hooked it up to the stove so you can cook your meal. But that’s gonna be it until after the crew gets back on the 27th. Sorry.”
“Damn. Well, nothing more you could do about it anyway.” Henry shook James’ hand, noting that, although Henry was six inches taller than James, the foreman seemed to have just as much presence. It was probably the fact that James was built like he could bench-press a truck.
James glanced past him at Anna, and gave her a small nod. “Miss McCallister.” His eyes lingered on hers, and she blushed slightly and lowered them.
“Mr. Thompson.”
She glanced back up and saw another faint smile. James had this way of flirting with her without flirting with her: subtle, as if he almost didn’t know he was doing it. She had thought more than once of giving up on this stupid crush on Henry and giving the tough, working-class hunk with the obvious interest a try, but...her heart just wasn’t on board with that. It annoyed the hell out of her that James, who was a genuinely decent guy, hard working and actually interested, was right there, but she couldn’t get awat from her fantasies of Henry enough to do something about it. She could only imagine that it must frustrate James too.
Henry was frowning for some reason as he went around to the back to pop the hatch and start pulling out bags of groceries. She went to help him, and found James beside her piling bags into his tree-trunk arms. “Let me get that,” he said quietly, and she stepped back with just the pie plate balanced in her hands.
Well, okay
.
He led them inside, elbowing the unlocked door open and pushing through. The foyer was tiny, as in all these houses: basically just enough room to hang one’s coat. A narrow hallway led back to the kitchen area, an archway to the right led to the large wood-floored living room, and a set of ancient wooden stairs, their treads worn down by the passage of centuries of feet, led upstairs. Anna looked up at it quietly, noticing how it had been rebuilt while keeping the tread wear and the old, carved-wood banister. In the middle of the shining, modern floor, it looked like a showcased piece of history.
She went into the white tile kitchen after them, and found a place for the pie on the wraparound counter. “Oh wow, good job,” Henry was saying, rubbing his hands together as he looked around. The whole thing was a mix of ancient and modern, tiles older than her grandmother on the walls and floor, and a new copper hood looming over the state of the art propane stove. The kitchen windows overlooked a large pond in the backyard that was already covered by a thin layer of ice. In spring it would be beautiful; amazing. Probably stocked with game fish as well, if she knew Henry and his eye for detail.
The smile James gave Henry was a bit less genuine, but obvious anyway, and a little proud. “Yeah, we worked right up to the wire. If the delivery guys hadn’t messed things up, you could have had tenants in this weekend.”
“Oh well. Next time. Anything I should know about the rest of the place?”
James rubbed his chin. “Nothing I didn’t put in the report yesterday. Except the one thing. How late are you two planning to stay on the property?” He shot another glance at Anna, and this one confused her: he looked a little...concerned.
“Seven, maybe eight, then we should head back. Why do you ask?”
James walked to the window, brushing past Anna lightly, and pointed at the sky. Those fat, wet-looking storm clouds had trailed them in from the coast, but Anna had been too wrapped up in Henry to think much of them. “Those,” he said gravely. “Snow in the Catskills starts early and we’re used to getting a few feet here and there. But the last few nights the temperature’s dropped twenty degrees in an hour or two. And now we have a big storm comin’ in. That’s a bad recipe, Boss. You two should think about getting out of here before dark, even if you have to cut dinner short.”
Henry peered out the window, and then for some reason looked between Anna and the man standing next to her and frowned again. “I’m sure it will be fine,” he said dismissively.
James scowled, his eyes flashing annoyance, and he looked at Anna as if thinking that Henry’s decision could endanger her. “Boss, all due respect, but you’ve never wintered in the Catskills. We watch the weather careful around here. Especially since the hurricane.”
Henry blinked a few times, then turned and locked eyes with James. “Okay, look, I’ll take that under advisement. But I want to finish our checklist before we take off. Do the pipes have that heat tape stuff on them?”
“Every bit that needs it.” James sighed, looking down, his eyes still holding a faint, fierce light. “I need to get down to the new project off of Highway 28 and make sure that they have their taps open before the temperature drops, so I’ll be taking off soon unless you need something.”
“No, that should about do it.” He held out his hand, and James gave him the keys. “Good job, James. I’ll push that bonus through for you as soon as we’re back in cell phone range. Have a merry Christmas.”
James nodded. “You too.” He gave Anna another look, his brows drawing together in what she swore was worry, and then headed out through the back door. A minute later, she heard his Jeep engine start up and drive away. And something in her head went
Wait, don’t leave.
A little seed of worry had been planted inside of her, and she looked up at the sky, wondering.
“Damn, James makes me feel like I’m not the one who should be taking credit on this one.” Henry rubbed his face as he went to unload some of the bags onto the counter. “He’s the one that directed the build, and his boys are the ones who did it all. I just paid for it.”
“And if you hadn’t been there with the money, James and his guys would be unemployed and this place would still be standing up here a roofless ruin without an access road.” She gave him a pointed look as she helped him unpack. Then their hands brushed reaching for the same Tupperware full of gravy, and she got so flustered that she nearly dropped it.
“I guess you’re right.” He caught the container before it could fall and set it aside. Then he looked at her curiously. “So, James. Is there something going on there between you two?”
She stopped dead and blinked up at him.
Oh damn it, don’t ask me that. Why would you even care anyway?
“I...have only ever seen him when I’m with you,” she managed to stammer out, not meeting his eyes.
“Oh. I was curious. He seems interested.” The hard tone that crept suddenly into his voice confused her, and she shook her head.
“I barely know him.”
“Oh. Well, just wondering.” He sounded slightly relieved.
She blinked at him, and then let the subject drop, though her head was spinning. Was he jealous? No, he couldn’t possibly be. Not of her. Billionaires dated supermodels, not round, quiet, shy girls from middle-class Delaware families.
T
hey fixed dinner together; she prepped what he hadn’t done already, chopping vegetables and running things back and forth from the oven while he stirred pots and added seasonings. It smelled amazing.
She couldn’t help noticing, again, how well they worked together, even on such small domestic tasks. Henry was in a great mood despite the setbacks and James’s warnings, telling stories about how he’d found the place. He already had other prospects in mind--including an old barn out by Woodstock that he planned to turn into a set of artists’ lofts. “The stables are from the sixteen hundreds. Almost four hundred years old and still mostly standing except for the roof and some of the interior woodwork. That’s going to be spring’s project. You would not believe just how beautiful it is in there, Anna. I’ll show you the pictures I took on my phone as soon as we’re done here.”
She smiled at him and was about to answer when someone knocked on the front door. Her hands were clean, so she hurried out to answer it. Standing there was a smallish, round-faced man with John Lennon glasses and long, dark hair barely covering a scar across his forehead. He was heavily bundled in a down coat and jeans, and broke into a grin when he saw her. “Oh hey! I didn’t know you were up here with Henry this time. I wanted to bring him his Christmas present.”
Toby Castleburg was a local, one of the woodworkers Henry worked with, and very good at scouting old properties that could be refurbished. He was only a few years older than Anna, but had the manner of a big kid, fidgeting a little bit in the doorway as he smiled. She knew that under the giant jacket he would invariably have some comic book or video game related T-shirt on over his thermals. “Where’s Henry?” He peered past her and she stepped aside to let him in.
“In here, Toby! You staying for dinner?” Henry’s call was cheerful and welcoming. Toby was a friend. Henry had this habit of making friends wherever he went, and he wasn’t classist about it.
“If you’re cookin’ roast beef, I’ve got to get a piece of that action!” Toby, young, partly disabled from the accident that had scarred him, and definitely as working-class as James, had shown up every time they worked in the Catskills, usually to eat with them or show them around on the back roads while Henry drove. They met when Monty had gotten out of the SUV during a visit to Toby's home town of Phoenicia, and Toby had shown up within five minutes with the dog in hand on a borrowed leash, asking whose he was. Ever since then, he had had an open invitation to visit whenever Henry was in town.
“I am. C’mon in.” And Toby ambled past her, a brown paper package in his arms, face lighting up as he sniffed the air.
Anna didn’t mind his presence--well, yes, part of her did, the part that had hoped roast beef and pie would lead to romantic scenes with Henry in front of the wood stove. But generally, she was fine with Toby being around. When he was present, things just couldn’t get too serious. He was a ray of sunshine in these wintry mountains.
He helped them finish fixing things as he and Henry chattered. Anna quietly watched the clouds marching in, stuffing themselves into the sky over the mountain until the last patch of blue was gone. There they thickened and darkened, lowering slowly. She remembered James’s warning and his worried glances at her. She felt the seed of fear in her stomach grow a little.
I should say something. Shouldn't I say something? Henry seems determined to spend a few more hours and he's the boss, but....
They ate well before sundown, dining at the gorgeous live-edge dining table Toby helped build. Anna couldn't tell whether it was Henry's concession to James's warning or whether he was just hungry, but she was secretly a little glad they were eating early. As much as she loved spending more time with Henry, her eyes kept going back to the low black clouds outside the window. James never looked worried about anything, but he sure had that afternoon.
"Guess it's good you didn't bring Monty," Toby chattered on between huge bites of roast beef. "I know how he likes to get out, and the last few nights have been freezing. And tonight's really gonna be no night for a dog to be out. Looks like snow. Maybe lots of snow."
Henry frowned but then forced his face into a more pleasant expression. "Monty's at doggie daycare, they have already arranged to keep him overnight if we get back late."
"Guess that's good then." He perked up. "Hey, did James tell you he got his trailer fixed up? Just in time, too. I helped him put the new wood stove in. He’s gonna be a lot warmer this winter, bet you anything. Good thing, too, because last winter he had a cough for three months! Poor guy’s had no luck since he got out of prison, not until you came along.”
Anna paused with her fork halfway to her mouth. Then she forced herself to take the bite, chew and swallow. Of course she felt a little worried about James’s last winter. But mostly what she thought was that Henry was always doing things like that: offering a second chance to people who wouldn’t have it otherwise. Like the ex-con who had stolen money to feed his family. Or the brain-damaged woodworker who sometimes had convulsions. Or the social-reject secretary who was better with dogs than she was with humans. Henry had a big heart, and she wished, with an ache that deepened whenever she looked at him, that there was room in it for her.
“He didn’t mention it, no. But I’m glad he did.” Henry sliced off more meat, dipped it in mashed potatoes and gravy and stuffed it in his mouth.
“Saw the inside the other day. He scrubbed all the mold out, stuffed it full of insulation. Got two solar panels of his own. Too bad his neighbors bitched about the windmill noise or he would have that too.”
“Hard to believe that that not-in-my-backyard thing happens out where people’s backyards are several acres,” Anna commented quietly as she poked at her green beans. Her gaze rose back to the window, and she saw a few spatters of icy rain hit the glass.
Henry had them pack up the dirty dishes, since there was no hot water available for washing, and they brought them out to the car before settling in for pie and coffee. That’s when Toby, with a big gap-toothed grin on his face, presented his brown paper package to Henry, who chuckled.
“Another one, huh?”
“Yep! Got one to add to your collection.” He waved it slightly and Henry took it, tearing it open. A cartoonish statue of a woodchuck, expertly carved and softly polished with beeswax, sat on its haunches with a derpy look on its face and a branch in its mouth.
Henry grinned and looked the thing over. “Well damn, Toby, this one’s even better than last year’s.” He had a display case in his office with the cartoonish wooden animals, and now she knew where they all came from. “You know I keep these at work for people to look at?”
“No kidding?” Toby brightened.
“It’s true. He has a big lit-up display case with a mirror behind it in the lobby.” Anne couldn’t help but smile as Toby beamed.
“Well, that’s awesome. I’ll have to tell the boys back home that my work’s on display in New York City!”
“Now we just have to get some more of it out there so I can sell it for you, and you can finish fixing up your Mom’s house with the money.” Henry gave him a pointed look, and Toby’s ears turned red.
“Oh, I can’t carve except when I’m making it for a certain person,” he demurred.
Henry sighed. “So pretend they’re all for me then?”
“Huh.” Toby wrinkled his scarred brow, then nodded. “I could do that! And maybe try selling some of the furniture. You think this table turned out all right?”
“The table’s beautiful, Toby.” Anna thought about Toby, living with his mom, his life a regimen of medicines and doctor visits, and how the chance to make more money made such a huge difference for him. For James, going home alone to his trailer tonight. And, she realized, that bothered her; should they have asked him to stay? If she wasn’t going to be alone with Henry anyway, there had been no reason not to ask him. But Henry had almost made a point of not doing so. Why?
Could he be jealous of James flirting with me? No, no, that’s just not possible. The man is out of my league. He probably doesn’t even see me as a woman, at least not in that kind of way.
Toby excused himself soon after, seeing the few raindrops start to become more than a few. “Gotta hop on my bike and get out of here, Mom gets worried if I’m too late and it’s starting to look messy out there.” He had Henry’s gift of a new wallet in his pocket, along with some investment certificates he didn’t know the value of and his mother would explain to him later--and which would cover the repairs of their house by themselves. Henry was like that: full of generous surprises.
They lingered together over more coffee, and chatter about the job went quiet soon after Toby left. “I’m keeping you. You must have a big day tomorrow,” he probed gently.
She looked up at him, then smiled and shook her head.
His brow furrowed. “You look sad.”
“I have nothing going on tomorrow,” she replied. “I’m not in touch with my family, and I’m not exactly a social butterfly around here. I...I can stay late, it doesn’t really matter.”
His face fell. “Nobody?” he asked, disbelieving. “I don’t get it. You’re so sweet….”
She let out a soft little laugh and looked out the window. “I have some people I volunteer with at the SPCA. I have my brother, but he’s out in Los Angeles. That’s kind of it in my life right now. My apartment won’t even allow pets.”
A silence dragged between them, his eyes flickering with something soft and sad and unfathomable.
She looked down, swallowing a lump in her throat. “I’m sorry, I’m being maudlin. Point is, don’t worry about getting me back late.”
Henry didn’t answer. She blinked and looked up and saw that he was staring past her at the window. She turned her head and saw an almost solid curtain of white flakes falling past the window. It was so thick that it looked like someone was emptying a feather pillow off the roof.