Yuletide Hearts. Ruth Herne Logan
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as if this wasn’t about as insulting as life could get because he was talking about roofing their homes, their dreams, their project. “Jim Slaughter’s run into bad times, he had to let his crew go and you guys know how crucial it is to get these houses roofed.”
Hank nodded. “It broke my heart to see them sitting unprotected. Uncovered.”
Callie knew that truth firsthand; she’d lived, breathed and witnessed her father’s depression. His Crohn’s disease had contributed to the ruination of what could have been a beautiful dream, a feather in his cap. She’d prayed, promised, cajoled and bullied God and this…
She swallowed a sigh, eyeing Matt, trying to look beyond the tough-guy good looks, the steel gaze, the take-charge attitude so necessary in a good contractor.
But right now this man represented their failure through no fault of his own other than being fiscally sound at the right time. While she couldn’t hate him for that, a part of her resented his success in light of her father’s failure.
A pessimist sees the difficulty in every opportunity; an optimist sees the opportunity in every difficulty.
Churchill’s quote stuck in her craw. She crossed the room, poured a cup of coffee, moved back to the table, sat and eyed the two men. “I’m listening.”
“Matt’s offered some good money if we can crew alongside Jim Slaughter while his business is restructured.”
So Jim’s company had succumbed as well, and he had a nice, hardworking wife and two kids. Callie choked down a sigh. “Good money as in?” She turned Matt’s way, keeping her affect flat, her gaze calm. Extra money was worth getting excited about for a combination of reasons, but taking it from the victor who now owned the spoils?
That cut. Nevertheless, her twenty-five hours of waitressing offered small monetary respite, not nearly enough to get by on, and she’d crewed for her father and his construction friends for years after leaving the military.
Matt’s calm expression went straight to surprise. “You crew?”
And there it was, old feelings rubbed raw, his look reminding her of her ex-husband’s disdain, how Dustin found her unfeminine and unappealing. She met his gaze straight on. “Yes.”
The bare-bulb wattage of his grin should have come with a warning label. Sparks of awareness flickered beneath her heart, but she’d served in the military for four years and good-looking smiles had been a dime a dozen. But something about his…
“Well, that’s an unexpected bonus.”
When she frowned, he explained, “Numbers-wise. I knew your father was experienced, and his friend Buck, but to have a third person.” He raised his shoulders in a half shrug. “That’s clutch in roofing. And Jim Slaughter will help, too, so that makes five of us.”
“Six, actually.”
Matt turned back toward Hank.
“Tom Baldwin might be on in years, but he’s a solid roofer. I know that firsthand.”
“Excellent.” Matt swept Callie another quick smile, just quick enough to make her want to shift forward.
Therefore she pulled back. “Except I haven’t said yes.”
“That’s true.” Matt stood, his shoulders filling the tan T-shirt beneath a frayed brown-plaid hooded flannel, the plain clothes adding to his hard-edged charm. “Here’s my number.” He handed her a business card, reached across and shook her father’s hand, his frank gaze understanding. “Can you let me know by tonight?”
“Of course.” Hank stood and walked Matt outside. “Let me talk to Buck and see if he’s available. Tom, too.”
“And, sir…” Matt hesitated, then turned, his eyes sweeping Hank, then the subdivision across the road. “I know this is difficult,” he began.
Hank cut him off. “Things happen for a reason, son. Always did, always will. I can’t pretend I wasn’t disappointed by my run of bad luck, especially because it affected more than me.”
Callie knew he’d shifted his gaze her way, but she kept her eyes down, not ready to rush this decision, although seeing Matt’s grin on a regular basis wouldn’t be a hardship. No, she’d definitely go to delightful. Maybe even delicious. But seriously off limits.
Like you’re all that much to look at in hoodies and jeans with a tool belt strapped around your waist? Step back into reality, honey. Been there, done that. Bad ending all around.
“But I’ve wound ’round God’s paths all my life,” Hank went on, “the ups and downs, the back-and-forths, and we’ve always come out okay in the end.”
“Good philosophy,” Matt noted. He moved across the side porch, then down the steps. “I’ll look forward to hearing from you.”
“I’ll call,” Hank promised.
Callie stared at her coffee, not wanting it, not wanting to be broke, not wanting to work for the attractive guy across the street who seemed bent on getting them involved in his success while facing their loss.
“It’s a good opportunity, Cal.” Hank laid a hand on her shoulder, his gentle grip understanding.
“The location’s convenient.”
“Yes.”
She sighed and stared out the window, seeing nothing. “And the money’s good.”
“And welcome.”
“I’ll say.” She paused, drummed her fingers along the table top, then slanted her eyes to his. “I know we have to say yes, Dad.”
He winced, then shrugged, understanding her mixed feelings.
“But I have to recount the reasons why before I do it.”
“Like bills to pay?”
“For one.” She nodded toward the school bus lumbering down the road. “I spent my Christmas budget on school clothes and supplies for Jake. He grew so much this summer that nothing fit, so I had to totally re-outfit him.”
“And my little stash went toward truck engine repairs.”
Two relatively minor things had dissolved their meager savings. Callie hated that, but then gave herself an internal smack upside the head.
Jake was strong, healthy and athletic, a good boy who loved traipsing off to a fishing hole, who behaved himself in school and accepted the necessary extra tutoring with little argument. He knew his way around a hammer and saw, a Marek trait tried and true, and wasn’t afraid to don a hard hat and be a crew gopher.
Her father’s health had returned with his colostomy, and if he continued to do well, they’d be able to reverse the procedure mid-winter. And while his appetite waned occasionally, she couldn’t deny that good old-fashioned hard work was the best appetite builder known to man, and that getting back to work was in her father’s long-term best interest.
The General dashed off the porch to greet Jake, his fur blending to grays in pursuit, the flash of white tail fringe the kind of welcome any boy would love.
“But the needy will not always be forgotten, nor the hope of the afflicted ever perish.”
The words of the ninth Psalm flooded her, their comfort magnified in simplicity.
Callie liked things simple. She loved the feel of crewing on a house, walking scaffolding, climbing ladders, working a rooftop. Her father had affectionately called her his “right-hand man” from the time she was big enough to eye a square alongside him, and they’d laughed at the expression.
But you stopped laughing when Dustin walked out, citing your lack of femininity as a total turnoff.
Jake’s dad had tossed her over for the former Livingston County Miss New York entrant, a petite gal