A Forever Home. Lynn Patrick
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he was being so great to her after her negative thoughts about him. “I guess I’d better tell my crew our plans have changed. We need to build a composter anyway, so we can recycle the sod we remove. We’ll start on that.”
Luckily, she’d had her workers bring the materials to create a couple of large composter holding units—wood and galvanized chicken wire. Not pretty, the composters would be built at the far end of the property and hidden by native grasses that would reach six feet high by midsummer.
Shifting into a positive mode, she started to leave but turned back when Rick called her.
“Hey, Heather. If anything else unexpected happens—not just to your equipment but anything else that bothers you around here—make sure you let me know. I’m going to take care of everything.”
She suddenly felt warm inside.
“Will do,” she agreed, wondering why his assurances made her feel so good. Maybe it was because she hadn’t had the protection of a caring male in a very long time.
But as she headed back toward the beach area, she wondered what Rick meant by “anything else” that bothered her.
It almost sounded as if he expected something to go wrong.
* * *
A GUT FEELING convinced Rick that the sod cutter had been damaged by their mystery intruder. When he’d stooped down to get a closer look at the pivot wheel, he’d noticed a smear of dirt on the machine that looked like a footprint. Someone had stood on it, and perhaps the weight had bent the wheel.
The question was...why would someone stand on it?
After his discussion with Cora, he was pretty convinced the person was looking for entries to the secret tunnels. Maybe he’d had to climb over the equipment to search.
Who knew?
Rick had to admit the coach house was a perfect place for a secret entrance. Not much traffic in here, so low probability of any witnesses. He started inspecting walls for some indication of a hidden door, but the paneling made it hard to see any irregularities. And the lack of good light everywhere but in the storage area frustrated him.
And as he searched, he thought about Heather Clarke. At almost twenty-five, she was still eleven years younger than he. But why was he even thinking about the difference in their ages? He might like her, but he wasn’t looking for someone to date. He was looking to do his job—to stop whoever was up to no good around the estate.
Still, he was distracted. He couldn’t shake Heather’s distraught expression from his memory. As a single mom, she obviously had some money concerns.
Stooping down to take a better look at the sod cutter’s pivot wheel, he remembered how Heather’s tension had eased when he’d told her he could probably fix the equipment himself. And when he did, he hoped to see a big smile on her pretty face.
All the reward he would need.
CHAPTER THREE
HEATHER PUT A tuna casserole into the oven. She was grateful that Rick had come through for her and that she and her crew had been able to make short work of cutting out the two areas for rain gardens. Now she wondered what she could do to properly thank the man. Not that she had time to think about The Terminator at the moment. The nickname made her smile, made her want to think more about the resourceful man.
But right now, she had to concentrate on getting Addison and Taylor fed. Which meant making a salad to go with the casserole. A salad they would complain and fuss about before she got them to eat it. She fetched lettuce and a tomato, then carrots from the fridge and took them all to the sink, where she rinsed everything off. Addison loved carrots and Taylor could be bribed to eat them with a little French dressing on the side. She glanced around. The kitchen could use a makeover, but thankfully, it was spacious enough to be eat-in. The house was a neat bungalow with a living room, kitchen, two bedrooms and a single bath. All she’d been able to afford using her late husband’s life insurance.
A screech from outside made her wonder what was going on now. Apparently a morning of school followed by an afternoon of day camp wasn’t enough to wear out the twins. She grabbed a bowl and a cutting board and began chopping. The girls were playing in the backyard, and from the sound of their squeals and heated words, they had energy to spare.
Putting together the salad, Heather couldn’t even remember what that kind of energy felt like. Although she loved her time with the girls, they took everything out of her. She simply couldn’t keep up with them no matter how hard she tried. At one point when she was managing her Aunt Margaret’s store, she’d considered giving up on school. But then her sister, Kristen, had returned to Sparrow Lake and taken over Sew Fine. Having lost her fancy marketing job in Chicago, Kristen hadn’t known what she wanted to do at first but, luckily, her family and a new romance with the town’s police chief meant she was in Sparrow Lake to stay, and Heather was thankful for that.
She smiled wanly, thinking about how gladly she’d stepped down from the store manager job and taken the easier one of overseeing online sales. Much of which she could do at home after the twins were in bed. The only problem now was money. They were living on an even tighter budget than before.
A budget that would have been ruined if she’d had to pay to repair the sod cutter.
Rick crept into her thoughts despite her determination. There was just something about him...
And he certainly had come to her rescue this morning. Nothing she did could possibly convey her gratitude because she was hoping this internship would be the turning point in her life. If EPI hired her full time, she could give up working for Sew Fine for a fulfilling job with enough pay and benefits that she could finally relax. Then she would have more time to concentrate on the girls.
Which sounded like heaven after the past four years of pushing, pushing, pushing. Whoever had thought it was possible to “do it all,” especially if you were a single mom, was deluded. Yeah, you could do it all if you didn’t mind feeling like a zombie half the time. Her own mother had remarried and moved to California about the same time Scott had died, so Heather had been on her own.
“Hey, look what we got!”
Hearing Taylor’s chirpy voice, Heather smiled and turned to see. But though her daughters were both beaming at her, her own smile quickly evaporated. Standing between them was a scruffy dog with orange-brown and white fur and a pointed nose. The same dog who’d been watching them get into the SUV that morning.
“Whose dog is that?” Heather had hoped it belonged to a neighbor and had simply been wandering around.
“He’s ours!” Addison said. “We found him!”
Heather shook her head. “Oh, no, he’s not ours.”
“Yes, he is, and he’s starving.” Taylor went to the refrigerator and pulled out a package of turkey slices. “He needs to eat.”
Heather was about to say no when she took a better look at the dog. He did seem a little thin and he was staring at that package of lunch meat with the most hopeful expression on his sad little face. “Okay, one slice of turkey.”
But when the dog practically swallowed the slice whole, Taylor pulled out another and gave that one to him, too, saying, “His name is Kirby.”
“Sweetheart, don’t give him a name because we’re not going to keep him.”
“Why not?” Addison asked. “He’s real nice.”
Watching the dog devour a third slice of meat, Heather said, “I’m sure he is. But—”
“C’mon, Mom,” Taylor wheedled.
“I don’t have time to take care of a dog.”
Or the money. Being a responsible owner meant paying for shots and vet bills in addition to food, and the family budget was at the straining point now. Not that she wanted to burden her six-year-olds with