“Thanks. I appreciate that.” He walked from the porch to his truck in a confident stride that struck her. He was self-assured, and assertive, in a very pleasant way.
She whispered into the night, “I can’t wait.”
When she crawled beneath the cool cotton sheets that night, she was still smiling. As she lay there, reliving the evening, the moonlight flickered between the tree branches like a good-night wink.
Chapter Twenty-one
Thursday afternoon, Tucker walked through his house one more time, fussing over stupid things like the angle of his recliner in front of the television.
Just stop.
We’re not even going to be watching television.
You’ve got this.
But for all the self-talk, he still found himself going to a lot of trouble for a woman who would be leaving town soon. And not only going home, but to Richmond, which was nowhere he had any desire to spend time.
It’s fun. She’s nice. What’s the harm?
She and Natalie were best friends, and Natalie was the widow of his best friend. Theyshouldbe friends.
Between making sauce and chopping fresh herbs for the lasagna, he rolled over the same thoughts in an internal battle most of the day. He hadn’t met anyone quite as smart and entertaining as Sheila in a long time. She was easy to be around, and he liked that.
The savory aromas from the kitchen filled the house, andhe’d even made dessert, although it wasn’t often anyone had room for it after eating his lasagna.
All that was left was to pick up Sheila.
But it was way too early for that.
He pulled on his jacket and headed over to GG’s Mountainside Garden & Gifts on Main Street.
It was chilly, but it would be colder soon with the sun beginning to dip behind the mountains. Walking up the hill to Main Street from his house was always a welcome workout. He made the new recruits do it ten times a day while they were in training.
At the top of the ridge, he turned and walked up Main Street.
“Hey, Chief,” Tommy called out from the gas pumps across the street.
Tucker waved and crossed the street toward him. The little store next to the gas station had been an empty eyesore until Greta and Gary, a couple from Norfolk, decided to retire to Chestnut Ridge. They bought the dilapidated concrete block building from the city for next to nothing and poured in a pile of money to get it up to code and turn it into the welcoming retailer it was today.
Locals were hesitant about them coming in and setting up shop on Main Street, but the sweet elderly couple had captured their hearts. Gary was one of those guys who could engineer anything and always volunteered to help with projects, and Greta could work miracles with plants and flowers. The building was now painted a sunny orange, and they’d allowed the senior art students of Chestnut Ridge High to paint a mural on the side of it representing the history of the town, with a horse and carriage as it might have been back in the 1900s, huge chestnut trees, and mountain laurel in full bloom.
Tucker pulled the creaking wooden door open and walked inside. The peppery scent of evergreens mixed with the fragrance of paperwhites and amaryllis in funky colored wax balls that lined the counter. Foil-wrapped potted plants and shiny pottery with extravagant ribbon bows filled a rack, ready for gift-giving.
Greta rounded the corner wearing a bright red apron decorated like a Santa suit with white trim, a shiny black belt, and a gold buckle. “Tucker? Merry Christmas.” She swept her hands together. “What do I owe the pleasure?”
“Looks pretty in here, all decorated for the holidays.”
“Thank you.” She looked around. “It does, doesn’t it? Gary was moaning and groaning about how much time I spent decorating the tree in the front window since I’m doing one for the Christmas Tree Stroll too, but I told him… every person in this town will enjoy it at some point. Can’t go anywhere if you don’t stop next door for gas, right?”
“That is true.”
“I saw your team at the high school last night. They were working like acrobats trying to decorate that huge thing. They had one gal up on Homer’s shoulders, putting a bulldozer between the top branches. He’s lucky she didn’t drop that metal monster right on top of Homer’s head!”
“You’re right. As hardheaded as Homer is, he might have dented it, and that’s going to be some kid’s Christmas present this year.”
“What a great idea.”
“I thought so. I can’t wait to see what the tree topper looks like. I’m trying to stay out of it and let them run with it this year, which isn’t easy for me.”
