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“Don’t be ridiculous. Only the legs are broken. This would make an adorable swing to hang from a tree limb, or a porch beam.”
Gemma tilted her head back and looked at the clear blue sky. “Repurposing, thy name is Carly.”
Thrilled with her new treasure, Carly placed it in the pickup bed beside the box holding Gemma’s yet-to-be assembled lawn mower. “If I attach a seat belt, it would even be suitable for little kids.”
When she started to turn back to the junk pile to look for more gems, Lisa leapt from the truck. She and Gemma each grabbed an arm, marched their friend in a circle and then took her straight back to the driver’s side.
“Wait!” Carly protested, straining to look over her shoulder. “There might be something—”
“Yes,” Gemma answered. “Tetanus.”
“Snakes,” Lisa added. “Copperheads, cottonmouths, timber rattlers.” She pointed to the pools of water in the bar ditch beside the road, evidence of the recent rains. “Remember they like moist places.”
Carly grimaced. “Oh, yeah, right.” With a slight shudder, she climbed behind the wheel. Gemma and Lisa hurried around the front of the truck and climbed in. After they fastened their seat belts, they resumed their drive to Reston.
“You wait and see,” Carly said smugly. “I’ll make that chair into something adorable and useful.”
“I don’t doubt that,” Gemma answered. “But has it occurred to you that it might be a good idea to begin getting rid of some of the chairs you’ve refurbished over the years? You’ve got enough for a symphony orchestra.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
“Not by much,” Lisa added. “You’ve made each chair into a unique collector’s item. If you wanted to, you could open a shop in Reston or Toncaville, or somewhere else nearby.”
“But I don’t want to. I don’t want to be tied down. I wouldn’t be able to work on refinishing furniture at my own pace or go out looking for new pieces. Owning a shop means having to deal with the public. The way it is now, I advertise the items I’ve got for sale online and people come find me, or call me up and place an order over the phone. Besides, what about my farm? My organic produce won’t plant and harvest itself.”
Lisa threw her hands in the air. “But with a shop your sales would go through the roof. People like to come in and browse. I know you’re the ultimate do-it-yourselfer, but you could work on the farm in the mornings, then have a place in town with a back room. You could work on your projects, hire someone to work the front, arrange your merchandise. You’d be providing a job for someone. Maybe two people. A shop like that would be another way to attract tourists here. The kinds of projects you do? People from Dallas would eat that up with a spoon. They’d gladly drive up here to shop, enjoy the rustic experience, eat lunch, spend money.”
Carly sent her a sidelong glance. “You planning to run for mayor, Lis?”
“I might. Someday. There’s a lot that could be done in Reston if people would get their heads out of the past and think about the future.” Lisa had the bit between her teeth now and was going to run with it, doing her best to convince Carly of the rightness of this idea.
“The Smiths’ house, for example. It’s been sitting empty all this time, but it’s sound, only needs upgrading. The place has six bedrooms. It would make a perfect bed-and-breakfast.”
Gemma raised an eyebrow. “I’ve had two encounters with Nathan Smith since I’ve been back. Neither one of them gave any indication he was interested in running a B and B. Besides, didn’t you say he’s anxious to sell?”
Lisa gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “It was only a suggestion of what could be done with that property. And furthermore, if you reopened your family’s campground, you could attract tons of visitors. And the pavilion would be perfect for weddings and receptions.”
“If nobody minds the giant hole in the roof,” Gemma added.
Lisa didn’t even pause for breath. “Your lake has hardly been fished in years. The trout are practically begging to be caught. Fishermen would be buying tackle at Wilson’s Hardware, fuel and groceries at Crossroads Gas ’n’ Stuff...”
“Not gonna happen,” Gemma responded with a firm shake of her head. “I’ve got my hands full with opening the birthing center. I can’t take on anything else.”
“Well, keep it in mind for the future. That’s exactly what I’ve been talking about—planning for Reston’s future. This could be a prosperous little town if people would get behind a few of these projects.”
“Which you’ll think up and organize,” Carly said.
“Of course. Somebody has to be in charge.”
“You did do a good job of convincing the mayor to find a buyer to renovate and reopen the Mustang Supermarket,” Carly said.
“Having three grocery stores in town benefits everyone. Competition is a good thing.”
“Having three retailers to buy my produce is also a good thing.”
Smiling, Gemma settled back and only half listened to her friends. This was one of the reasons she had been so happy to move home to Reston. Besides providing a useful service to women in this rural area, she was getting to reconnect with her two best friends. Even though neither of them had anything to do with the medical field, they would be her staunchest supporters as she opened the birthing center.
Unlike Nathan Smith, Gemma thought with a sigh. His feelings about it were crystal clear and his attitude made her feel both wary and disappointed in him. She didn’t know why she’d expected more from him. After all, she didn’t really know Nathan anymore.
“Wow,” Carly said, leaning over the steering wheel to gaze ahead as she slowed to a crawl inside Reston city limits. “An actual traffic jam.”
A line of cars and trucks waited, turn signals blinking, to pull in to the high school parking lot. Junior Fedder, the deputy sheriff—short, dangerously obese and sweating profusely in the late-afternoon sun—stood at the entrance, directing traffic.
“I think that’s the most movement I’ve seen out of Junior since that day last fall when Tyler and Bradley Saxon put a dead skunk on top of the furnace in the high school basement. Junior chased those two all the way down Main Street, but they finally lost him when he collapsed in front of Wilson’s Hardware. Fortunately, he fell into a wheelbarrow so Frank Wilson was able to get him back to the sheriff’s office.”
As she listened to Carly’s matter-of-fact recital of this story, Gemma began laughing so hard tears rolled down her face. “In the...whee-wheelbarrow?” she choked.
“Yup. Frank’s wife, Tina, ran alongside, fanning Junior with a newspaper and spraying him with a plant mister.” Carly grinned and waved at Junior as the truck crept past him and into a parking place. “It was a new, heavy-duty wheelbarrow that Frank had assembled and put on display. He sold out the next day when everybody saw how much poundage one of those puppies could carry.”
“You lie.”
“No, it’s true,” Lisa assured her. “Carly bought one.”
Still laughing, Gemma all but tumbled from the truck. “Oh, how I’ve missed this town,” she said, looking up at that moment to see a solemn Nathan Smith, briefcase in hand, heading toward the auditorium. He glanced her way, nodded briefly and kept walking.
The chattering crowd fell silent and stood back to let him pass. Gemma saw him pause and glance around, then mount the steps purposefully. As far as she could tell, every eye was on him, but no one had greeted him.
“Come on,” Lisa said. “Or we’ll never find a seat.”
As it turned out, someone had saved seats for them near the front so they had a good view of the proceedings. Gemma looked around, recalling happy memories of her time at Reston High School. In spite of her unusual parents and her own obsession with finding and patching up wounded animals, she had never felt like an outsider and had enjoyed her years here. She was happy to see that, except for a fresh coat of paint and recently reupholstered seats, the big auditorium was still the same.
Two rows of chairs were on the stage and each was filled with someone important to the reopening of the hospital. County supervisors and city planners were in the back row. In the front row, white-haired, sleepy-looking Brantley Clegg, who ran the bank and would be handling the finances, sat on the far end beside Harley Morton, the mayor of Reston. Nathan, somber in a black suit and tie, was next. He sat arrow straight in the hard folding chair, his hands on his knees, his gaze on the audience, although Gemma didn’t think he was actually seeing anyone.
Beside him were Tom and Frances Sanderson, wealthy landowners and cattle ranchers who had given a huge sum of money to the project. When Frances saw Gemma, she elbowed her husband and the two of them gave her happy waves. Gemma waved back. Nathan saw this interaction and shot a swift glance from the couple to Gemma.
Gemma’s smile faded. Nathan would find out soon enough how it was that she and the Sandersons were so well acquainted.
“Wow,” Carly said under her breath. “I wouldn’t have known Nathan. He’s so much taller, and in great shape. He looks like—”
“A sexy undertaker,” Lisa finished for her. “I noticed that the other day when Gemma and I were at his house. Very solemn.”
“I don’t ever remember him being a barrel of laughs,” Carly said. “And now he looks like he’s made up his mind to run his head into a brick wall.”
Gemma studied his face. Carly was right. He didn’t appear to be looking forward to this at all. He must have felt her gaze on him because his eyes met hers. Her heart gave a little kick of anticipation but she didn’t want to analyze the reason for it.
She pulled her attention from him as Mayor Morton approached the podium and went through the usual ritual of tapping the microphone attached to the antique sound system to make sure it was working, then leaning in so close to speak that it released a loud squawk. The audience groaned and several people clapped their hands over their ears.
“Oh, uh, sorry, folks.” The mayor looked contrite as he jerked back. The microphone went dead and he was perplexed for a minute until a boy who couldn’t have been more than fourteen jumped onto the stage and fiddled with something under the podium, then picked up the microphone and handed it to the mayor.
“Oh, thanks, Owen.” The mayor nodded and finally seemed to be in his element. He looked up and fixed his good-neighbor-and-good-politician smile into place as he surveyed the audience. “We’re here as a community to reveal the plans for reopening Reston County Hospital. We’ve got a slide show to explain our plans and we’ll take questions afterward.”
“I’ve got a question right now,” a voice called out.
Everyone turned to look at the speaker.
“Cole Burleigh,” Gemma said, her lips tightening in a line of annoyance.
“Oh, for crying out loud, who kicked over a rock and let him slither out?” Carly asked as Lisa clicked her tongue in disgust.
Cole looked around the big room to make sure he had everyone’s attention. He didn’t look much different than he had in high school, except that he had filled out, and if he wasn’t careful would soon begin running to fat. His blond hair was still thick, his brown eyes just as calculating. They narrowed as he pointed to Nathan and asked, “I want to know if Dr. Smith’s briefcase is packed full of all that money his dear old daddy stole.”
A murmur ran through the crowd as people turned to watch Nathan’s reaction. His color deepened and he started to rise to his feet. The mayor waved him down as he turned back to Cole.
“This is neither the time nor the place for that, and—”
“Why not? It’s why everyone is here, after all.”
CHAPTER THREE (#u746e4187-45ae-54f9-a6b6-9912bde79c1f)
A WAVE OF assent rippled through the audience and Gemma’s heart sank. Cole was right. People were interested in the new hospital, but they were at this meeting to try and find out if Nathan knew the whereabouts of his father and, more importantly, the missing money. She watched as people she’d known her entire life—whom Nathan had known for that long—stared at him with hardened faces.
“We’ll take questions after the presentation.” The mayor floundered. His gaze darted around the room as if he was looking for support, but he must not have found it if his increasingly worried look was any indication.
“But we want to know now,” Cole responded. His gaze swept the room, as well. It was obvious he was loving his role, playing to his audience.
Nathan stood and placed his hand on the mayor’s arm. “It’s okay, Harley. I’ll tell everyone what I know.”
Mayor Morton appeared to swallow a huge lump as he nodded and stepped back.
Nathan took the microphone with one hand and smoothed his tie with the other. Gemma felt a spark of pride when she saw that his hands were steady.
“My briefcase contains cost projections and spreadsheets for the reopening of the hospital—”
“Do they equal the same as what ole George stole?” Cole asked, his lip curled into a sneer.
“I don’t know,” Nathan answered in a grim tone. “I know in general terms how much it was, as all of you do, but I never heard an exact figure of how much my father took.” He glanced at Brantley Clegg, who straightened in his seat and raised his voice to state a figure that had the entire room gasping. Even Cole seemed momentarily taken aback.
Nathan nodded at the banker then turned again to the audience. “I don’t know where my father is. I haven’t heard from him since he disappeared—”
“A likely story,” Cole began, but when he looked around this time, he could see that he was losing his audience. People were so shocked by the full scope of George Smith’s treachery that they had lost interest in Cole. Gemma saw someone reach up and tug Cole back into his seat. He sat but crossed his arms over his chest and glared straight ahead.
Nathan waited a few seconds until the crowd settled before he went on. “I’m profoundly sorry for what my father did. I promise you I knew nothing about it. However, I think it’s reasonable to assume that some of that money went to pay my medical school fees. I had partial scholarships, but there are always more fees that need to be paid.”
He looked down into the audience and Gemma sat up so he would look at her. She clenched her hands in her lap, wishing her strength could flow into him. In spite of the animosity that simmered between them, she wanted him to know she wasn’t against him.
Nathan’s gaze fixed on her for a second, then he took a breath and said, “I worked at a hospital in Oklahoma City for a few years, but I decided I had to come back here and try to make some kind of restitution. Setting up a family practice where there isn’t one, reopening the hospital, getting the necessary funding, providing quality health care for the people of this county—that’s how I’ll pay you back. Also, I’m selling my family home. That money will go into the hospital fund, as well.”
“Maybe that won’t be good enough.” Cole spoke again, obviously trying to regain the upper hand.
Fed up, Gemma bounced to her feet. Her red hair whipped around her shoulders as she spun on her heel. She clapped her hands onto her hips. “Cole, none of that money came out of your pocket. Why don’t you just be quiet? Nathan didn’t have to come back here and try to make amends, but that’s what he’s doing. Reopening the hospital will benefit everyone.”
Cole glared at her as a murmur of agreement rustled through the room. She turned and sat down, avoiding Nathan’s eyes.
Tom Sanderson stood and approached the podium. A big, strong man in his fifties, he didn’t suffer fools gladly. With a nod to Nathan, he took the microphone in his tough rancher’s hand and said, “Gemma is right, Cole. Frances and I have provided a large share of the funds to get the hospital going again. We’ll have a much better accounting system in place, one that will be harder to defraud. If we’re not worried about it, you shouldn’t be, either.” He replaced the microphone in its stand, then clapped Nathan on the shoulder. Nathan sent the older man a grateful look as they both took their seats.
The momentary lull gave the mayor the chance to hurry back to the podium and say, “Yes, well, all this can be discussed at length, um, later on. Right now, let’s see the slides we’ve prepared.” He nodded at the kid who’d fixed the sound system. “Owen, go ahead.”
As a large screen lowered from the ceiling and the people on the stage turned their chairs to see, the young man competently checked his computer and projector. Within a couple of minutes, the presentation began and the audience settled down.
* * *
GEMMA WATCHED THE presentation and tried to make sense of the storm of emotions that buffeted her. She felt disappointed in the people, although she supposed their reaction was natural. George Smith’s treachery and the subsequent closing of the hospital had affected everyone. It was the depth of their anger, the way they hadn’t moved past it, that was troubling. Or maybe they had moved past it but felt they were being dragged backward once again.
And there was Nate. He was definitely being pulled back while attempting to forge ahead, trying to rebuild a vital part of the community while being resented by many of the locals. It didn’t help that he was about as approachable as a daddy snake in a nest of vipers.
Her heart ached for him. In spite of his opposition to her birthing center, she felt protective toward him. She knew it made no sense, but when she looked at him, she still saw the boy he’d been, the one she knew. At the same time, she saw the man he’d become, whom she knew not at all.
* * *
NATHAN WATCHED THE SCREEN, but his mind wasn’t on the presentation, which he’d seen a dozen times already. This was turning out to be even harder than he’d thought it would be. He’d hoped people wouldn’t blame him for what his father had done. It appeared some of them didn’t. That was a start.
While slides clicked by, interspersed with video interviews with county officials and citizen-on-the-street chats about the hospital, Nathan replayed the scene in Gemma’s backyard with her digging, listening to music and singing along.
Somehow, the scene changed and became a sunny afternoon in that same backyard, but it had been different, full of pens and cages.
He and Gemma had been about ten years old. She had gushed about the baby raccoon she’d found abandoned and taken home. He wanted to see it. His mother never allowed any pets, not even a goldfish.
At the Whitmires’, he’d been astounded by the variety of animals in her personal menagerie. Her father, Wolfchild—Nathan recalled snickering whenever he heard that name—had built all the pens and cages. He had glowed with pride as Gemma had shown the animals. There had been several puppies and dogs, abandoned on the road outside the campground, and cats and kittens left behind. The citizens of Reston County had quickly figured out that the Whitmire family were pushovers when it came to unwanted animals. It was public knowledge that Gemma would find good homes for all of them.
There had also been a fawn wounded by an arrow, several birds with broken wings or legs, along with the baby raccoon, who had been darned cute. They’d all needed rescuing and Gemma had...
Nathan sat up so suddenly, many people in the audience stared at him.
Did Gemma think he needed rescuing like some wounded animal? His gaze went straight to her and she met his eyes with a questioning look.
Sitting back, he crossed his arms over his chest. She was wrong, and he would make that clear the first chance he got. But right now, he had to deal with the rest of the town.
He understood why the people of Reston were mad at his father. He was, too. He had tried to find George, tried to figure out where he’d disappeared to along with the money. What he’d told the audience at this meeting was true. He’d never known the exact amount because he didn’t want to know how great a larceny his father had committed. He’d never known that George had a gambling problem that had gotten completely out of hand when Mandy, and then Nate’s mother, died. Nate admitted, to his shame, that he hadn’t known what his father was capable of because he hadn’t really known his father. All he’d known was that George spent long hours at work and never took a vacation—rarely a day off. Now Nate knew why. It was called cooking the books and his dad was a master chef.
The county sheriff and some state investigative agencies had searched for George and had tracked him to Las Vegas, but the leads had petered out. They speculated that he’d changed his name and obtained false identification. They would wait until he resurfaced—but that hadn’t happened in all of these years.
Wherever George was, he had almost certainly gambled all that money away. If he’d been a lucky gambler, he probably wouldn’t have needed to steal in the first place.
Harley returned to the podium and asked, “Does anyone have any questions?”
Of course they did and the next hour was spent in heated discussions about money, personnel, building and equipment upgrades, contract bids for the work, and a dozen other issues. The county supervisors, city manager and banker all answered questions. Finally, someone brought up the other issue Nate had been dreading.
“What about the birthing center?”
