Page 3 of Finding Forever

Natalie had told him that an arts center manager was starting work soon. Dave hoped whoever took the job wouldn’t be the kind to complain about the dust and noise of a remodel. On a building like this, he’d never be able to make them happy.

Dave looked around the room and frowned. He should have turned down this job.

Most of his crew were out at Finley Point. The resort was a big contract and it would keep him busy for the next twelve months. By rights, he should have handed Natalie a list of people who could have helped her and gone home.

He hadn’t, though. Natalie had stood in this room and told him what they wanted it to be. There’d be art and craft classes, a gallery, and maybe even a café. It would be open seven days a week for everyone, whether they were children, retirees, stay-at-home parents, or widowers. Before good sense could stop him, Dave had said yes.

The arts center mattered, not for the income it gave him and his crew, but for what it would mean for the town. Projects came and went. Families moved away and stores changed hands. But every now and then a building became part of people’s lives.

He moved toward the back of the building, where Natalie wanted the kitchen and two workshop areas. For a moment he could see the rooms finished. They’d be warm and full of the ordinary noise of people who’d come here for a reason.

He could see it the way Carol used to make him see things.

The thought slipped into his head unannounced, the way it always did. Nine years, and it still caught him off guard. His wife would have loved a project like this. She’d have walked the empty floor beside him and transformed the interior before he’d finished checking the joists. She would have been right about the colors and wrong about the budget, but he’d have built it the way she wanted anyway.

Carol had meant the world to him, and he still missed her every single day.

His phone buzzed against his hip. It was a text from his son, Mark: Still on for Sunday?

He smiled at the screen and typed back, Wouldn’t miss it. I’ll bring the steaks.

The reply came almost at once—a thumbs-up, then: Good. It’s been too long, Dad.

Dave knew it had been. Mark had taken a promotion in Polson a year ago. Between the long hours Mark’s new job demanded and the resort eating up most of Dave’s daylight, the two of them never seemed to have a weekend at the same time. A month would pass, then two. Dave would tell himself he’d visit Mark once things settled down. They never did.

He put the phone away and walked through to the storage area.

The front door banged open and Hank’s voice rolled in ahead of him. “I’m telling you, Rosa nearly had a heart attack over the price of coffee at the gas station. Four dollars. For one cup. You’d think they were grinding it with gold.”

Dave turned around and met Hank and his crew in the main events area. “Morning everyone,” Dave said.

“Don’t tell me you’ve been here since dawn.” Hank placed a box of tools on the floor. “One of these days you’ll learn to sleep in like a normal person.”

Dave just smiled. His quiet hour was over, and a part of him was glad of the company.

Tonight he’d go home to the white weatherboard house Carol had chosen the moment she’d seen it. He’d make himself something for dinner, watch his favorite TV shows, and probably read for an hour before bed.

It wasn’t a bad life. It was just quieter than it used to be.

But on Sunday, he’d drive to Polson to see his son. And that was something worth looking forward to.

Chapter 3

Beth sat at her kitchen table with Natalie’s letter on one side and a blank sheet of paper on the other.

Dear Natalie, she’d written an hour ago. Nothing since. Even after what her friends had said, Beth still felt as though she was crazy to take on such an important role. Now the pen lay across the paper, and she couldn’t make herself pick it up.

Spread around her was the evidence of an ordinary evening. The list of food she wanted to buy for the food bank, the spring class roster for the Welcome Center, and next week’s recipe for her class at the Welcome Center. She looked straight past all of it. What she saw instead was a woman with no qualifications, no résumé, and a lifetime of reasons to stay exactly where she was.

The phone rang, and Kayla’s name lit the screen. Beth answered on the second ring. “Hi, sweetheart.”

“Hi, mom. I’m glad you’re home. I need your advice.”

Beth pushed the sheet of paper aside. “What’s happened?”

“It’s nothing bad. The opposite of bad, maybe. Chef Aldana called this afternoon.” Kayla took a breath. “Her sous chef is leaving in June, and she wants me to step into the job after I graduate.”

“Kayla!” Beth said excitedly. “That’s incredible.”