AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Poli-sci? Government? Law?” Risky questions, because she had no clue how he’d answer, but when he turned red, she knew she’d hit her mark.
“Agriculture,” he mumbled.
“Agriculture? Learn how to negotiate a bumper corn crop, did you?” Around them, people laughed.
“It’s a very practical degree, which you might appreciate if you had one.”
His comment elicited a point-scored hum from the crowd, but before she could fire back, Brandi clicked her compact closed, dropped it into her handbag, and looked up. “Tommy, honey, I’m famished.”
He patted her arm and flashed his game-show-host smile. “Reverend, thank you again for a thought-provoking sermon. Ginny, always so…entertaining…to talk to you.”
“That went well,” Melody whispered as the crowd dispersed.
“Yeah, right, if you don’t count Tom getting the last word.”
Melody nudged her with an elbow, and started walking down Main toward the firehouse, where they were meeting Josh for lunch. “Yes, well, he’s got an agriculture degree, and he’s not afraid to use it.”
She laughed, despite herself, and nudged Melody back. “I don’t know who won our little debate. I don’t know who lost. All I know for sure is I’ve had my fill of Buchanans for today.”
At that moment, Shaun walked out of the hardware store across the street and their eyes locked. She stared at him for one beat…two…and then forced herself to turn away.
“Liar,” Melody said.
…
Shaun stepped from the ladder onto the roof of the cabin and watched Tyler Longfoot inspect the weathered shingles. The tall, rangy, dark-haired man Shaun remembered from a lifetime ago knelt and lifted a few loose shakes, then raised a brow at him.
“Yeah, I hate to break it to you, but you need a new roof.”
He’d been up there before, so the news came as no surprise. “You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know. But I also know a roof is a grueling one-man project. I’ve ordered the materials, and I expect them Monday, along with the roll-off bin, but once I tear everything down to the boards I need to throw on the new roof pronto. So my real question is can you squeeze me in?”
Tyler squinted at the sky, adjusted his blue ball cap, and nodded. “My crew is pretty stretched, but this is a small job—smaller if you plan on helping. I can put a few guys on it later this week, assuming the weather holds.”
“Sounds good.” He stepped onto the ladder again. “I’ll give you a deposit. Just let me know the damage.”
Longfoot followed him down, descending the ladder with the ease of someone who did it routinely. Shaun flashed back to the summer between fourth and fifth grade, sneaking out of his house after dark by scaling the trellis outside his bedroom window to meet up with Roger Reynolds and some other guys in the neighborhood and explore the old Browning farm. What ten-year-old boys could resist a big, abandoned property? Some nights guys a few years older, like Longfoot and Junior Tillman, wound up there too, usually with a six pack of beer and a Penthouse. Good times were had by all.
“Straight labor?” Longfoot’s question pulled him back to the here and now.
Shaun nodded. “Supplies are covered. I’ve got an in at the hardware store.” His family owned it.
Longfoot laughed, and then quoted him a fair figure.
“Done. Come in.” He gestured to the door. “I’ll write you a check.”
He swung into the kitchen to grab his checkbook, and paused at the fridge. “Water?”
“Thanks.” Longfoot accepted the bottle Shaun held out to him and ran his other hand over the newly installed soapstone countertop surrounding the matching farmhouse sink. “Nice. You do this yourself?”
“Yep.” He opened his checkbook and started writing. “The slabs were a bitch to maneuver, but I got them in. I used two pieces around the sink rather than risk a break. If you look closely you can see the seams.”
The other man looked closely and ran a finger down one seam, testing the smoothness. “Tight. Did you install the floor, too?”
Shaun handed him the check and then glanced down at the ebonized, wide-plank floors. “I did. I thought about refinishing the original pine floors, but they were too far gone. Too thin in the high-traffic zone.”
Longfoot nodded while he folded the check and slipped it in the back pocket of his jeans. He stepped to the sink, lifted the single-lever faucet handle and let the water flow for a moment. Then he watched it drain, crouched down and looked in the cabinet under the sink. “Did your own plumbing?”
Shaun got the odd sense he was on a job interview. “I did. Here and in the downstairs bathroom.”
