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Bluegrass Courtship
Allie Pleiter
The celebrity host of TV's Missionnovation, Drew Downing is comfortable with his fame. He's become accustomed to the cheering, star-struck townfolk that usually welcome him as he renovates churches countrywide. Usually. Then he and his crew set up in tiny Middleburg, Kentucky, to rebuild the church's storm-damaged preschool.The very lovely, very no-nonsense hardware store owner Janet Bishop is suspicious of Drew's true motives. It looks like Janet Bishop's faith–in God, in herself and in love–needs some serious rebuilding. And Drew Downing is just the man for the job.
“Maybe we skip the small talk,” Drew said, “and you tell me what’s on your mind.”
Janet decided to take him at his word. “Look, I’m glad the preschool’s getting an overhaul. But that doesn’t change the fact that Middleburg’s problem is about to become prime-time entertainment.”
“You don’t trust us to get the job done right.”
“As a matter of fact, yes.”
“Well, Janet Bishop, I’ll make you a deal.” Drew pulled out a checkbook and wrote out a check. “This here’s a blank check made out to your store. After we’re gone, if plaster cracks, if the pipes leak, we’ll cover the cost for anything the church needs to order. I don’t want you all to feel we’ve taken advantage of Middleburg in any way.”
Janet stared at the check.
“I believe in what I do, Janet, and I mean to prove it to you.” He extended his hand. “Will you let me?”
ALLIE PLEITER
Enthusiastic but slightly untidy mother of two, RITA
Award finalist Allie Pleiter writes both fiction and nonfiction. An avid knitter and non-reformed chocoholic, she spends her days writing books, drinking coffee and finding new ways to avoid housework. Allie grew up in Connecticut, holds a BS in Speech from Northwestern University, and spent fifteen years in the field of professional fund-raising. She lives with her husband, children and a Havanese dog named Bella in the suburbs of Chicago, Illinois.
Bluegrass Courtship
Allie Pleiter
Unless the Lord builds the house,
its builders labor in vain.
Unless the Lord watches over the city,
the watchmen stand guard in vain.
—Psalms 127:1
To my late father, Joe Stanko, who built things
Acknowledgments
Returning to Middleburg always means a return trip to charming Midway, Kentucky. Everything good about Middleburg comes from Midway. Everything “quirky” is definitely of my own invention. My thanks again to the lovely people—readers included—who’ve helped me fall in love with this part of the country. I’m so happy to be back and eagerly awaiting my subsequent returns.
My thanks, as always, to my family—especially Mandy and CJ who endured another one of those “research vacations.” To the inventors of the DVR, who saved my family from sitting through dozens of Extreme Makeover: Home Edition episodes. To Jim Griffin and Alana Ruoso in the art department at Steeple Hill for giving me a delightful cover. And to all of you, for your kindness, your letters and prayers. You are all proof that God can bless abundantly across the airwaves and the miles.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Questions for Discussion
Chapter One
Eight seconds.
Sometimes five, but never more than eight.
Drew Downing knew the world divided itself up into people who loved his television show, and people who hated it. After three seasons of Missionnovation, Drew could size up which side of that very thin line any one person stood. Always in under eight seconds after his trademark greeting of “God bless ’ya and hello, Middleburg!”
He didn’t need the last five seconds this time…not with the pretty face of that woman in overalls standing at the end of the paint aisle. It broadcast pure skepticism. Drew didn’t even need three seconds to tell him Bishop Hardware, while it was Middleburg’s only hardware store, would be no instant ally to his cause. “Hostiles,” his producer, Charlie Buchanan, called them. Sometimes you could win ’em over, most times no matter what you did they were just sure you had an angle. If the hostiles couldn’t find an angle, they never believed you just might not have one. It only meant you hid it well.
Middleburg, Kentucky was the perfect project for the season finale of Drew’s Missionnovation television renovation program. The tiny town’s church preschool had been smashed by one hundred-year-old tree during a summer storm. Toddlers had had to learn their primary colors in the YMCA gym because their preschool had been destroyed. The town had been holding bake sales to buy new roofs and spaghetti dinners to fund drywall. And now Missionnovation was here to help.
Some folks at least were glad of it. “My stars!” came a woman’s awestruck squeal from over by the gardening supplies. “It’s those Missionnovation folks! From TV! Pam, look! It’s him.”
“How may I help you?” The woman in overalls asked.
Wow, Drew thought, I didn’t know you could make “How may I help you?” sound unfriendly. “Well, that’s just it,” he said, turning his gaze to the excited crowd that had pooled into the store behind him, “I’m here to ask you the same thing.”
Oh, sure, said the woman’s dark eyes. Drew could be in a sea of people thrilled to meet him, and the only thing he’d notice was the one person who was convinced he was on the take. The one person sure the “ministry makeover” Missionnovation offered was just too good to be true. Charlie was always giving him a hard time about his obsession to “win over the hostiles.”
A chubby older man grabbed his hand and shook it vigorously. “Mr. Downing, we sure are glad to see you and your team here. I’m the one who sent in the application.”
“Of course you are.” Drew recognized him from the application video and clasped one of the man’s shoulders. “And I’m glad you did. You must be Mayor Epson.”
“I am.” He beamed. A few of the locals patted him on the back. Watching the person who’d sent in the application get to be a hero never got old. That application process was long, complicated and demanded a lot of work. Getting to tell that person their persistence paid off, and their dream project would be realized, and on TV to boot, well that was the high-octane fuel that enabled Drew to pull as many all-nighters as he did.
“Howard Epson, life’s about to change. Your town’s about to get a shot in the arm like only Missionnovation can deliver. Are you up for it?”
These folks watched their Thursday night television. They knew what to do when Drew Downing asked “Are you up for it?” The tiny crowd yelled “We’re up for it!” so loud it echoed throughout the store. Two teenage girls grabbed a sheet of paint chip samples off the display next to them and held them out to Drew, asking for autographs. Out of the corner of his eye, Drew caught the lady in the overalls rolling her eyes.
“There’ll be plenty of time for that kind of stuff later, gals,” Drew said to the pair. “Right now we’ve got work ahead. You girls think you could convince your classmates to come on over? We need all the hands we can get on demolition day.”
“I suppose we can find a few friends,” they said. If they were in charge of bringing teens onto the set, Drew knew they’d be the most popular girls in school tomorrow.
“Then I’ll put you in charge of teen volunteers. You go see Annie in the bus and she’ll get you all set up with a box of T-shirts to give out as you sign folks up, okay?”
“Sure!” They bubbled up the aisle toward Annie, who’d be waiting in the bus as always.
“Mayor Epson, lead the way.”
“I’d be delighted!”
Drew turned back to the woman, who hadn’t moved from her spot at the end of the paint aisle. He noticed, for the first time, that the name on her Bishop Hardware nametag was Janet Bishop. Owner? Daughter of owner? Wife of owner? It was too soon to say. “We’ll be back later with a mighty long list,” he said, pointing right at her.
She looked unconvinced.
Why do hostiles always look unconvinced?
Chapter Two
Vern Murphy shuffled up the aisle to stand beside Janet Bishop as she stared after the crowd now leaving Bishop Hardware.
“Don’t that beat all,” he said, scraping black grease from under his fingernails with the edge of a screwdriver. “He’s that TV guy, ain’t he? Should spice things up around here for a bit.”
“It’ll do something, that’s for sure.” Janet muttered, even though she could hear her father’s gravelly voice in the back of her mind saying “Jannybean, if you can’t say something nice…”
Vern pointed at the green bus so big it blocked the entire storefront. It had Missionnovation across the side in large white letters. “They probably got all kinds of fancy-pants tools in there. You know, like the pneumatic doodads in those catalogues of yours. Might be worth watching. Sounds like they’ll be buying up a storm if nothing else, so business’ll be good.”
Buses full of tourists were fairly normal in Middleburg, Kentucky. It was a charming, rustic—okay, sometimes a little too rustic—town in the middle of horse country. The kind of town with one main street—Ballad Road—running down the center to comprise its “downtown.” A community where everybody knew everyone’s name and often everyone’s business. Not exactly thriving, but getting by on hard work and watching out for each other. Even so, the storm had hit lots of people hard, and the preschool damage had presented a big challenge. This tourbus, however, was more like a rolling subdivision than your average charter bus. People were already gathered around, talking, pointing, straining to see inside the tinted windows.
“Vern,” Janet sighed, “these people have corporate sponsors. Companies who donate everything so they get their stuff on TV. They’re not going to need much from us.” Janet replaced the can of primer someone had knocked off the shelf in their hurry to follow Downing.
“But he just said he’d be back with a long list,” Vern countered.
“A long list of requests, I’d guess. Those people think you’ll do anything to get on their show. That you’ll fall all over them and give them whatever they want. And we can’t afford to be a ‘corporate sponsor’ right now.” She headed back to her office, where she had three orders yet to fill. Actual business, resulting in actual income. She’d have to give Howard a piece of her mind the next time she saw him. He was always pulling stunts like this.
“Sounds like I’d better head on over to that bus and tell them all just what they’re dealing with in here,” Vern said. “We don’t stand for no Hollywood shenanigans.”
Ten minutes later, Janet looked up from her order forms to see a short, round-faced woman in a green button-down shirt and glasses standing in her doorway. “I’m Annie Michaels,” she said, extending a hand, “vice president of Shenanigan Prevention.”
“Um,” she stuttered, genuinely shocked that Vern had gone through with it, “I’m Janet Bishop.”
Annie cocked her head toward the doorway. “They don’t make ’em like Mr. Murphy anymore.”
“Vern?” Janet put down the calculator she’d been using and held out her hand. “No, he’s definitely one of a kind. Been working here since my dad bought the shop, which means he’s been at Bishop Hardware longer than I have.”
“He thinks pretty highly of you. He just gave me an earful about not pulling any fast ones on you. Said you’re too smart to fall for any of that…oh, how’d he put it? ‘Slick-o TV shenanigans y’all may be used to.’”
“Yep,” Janet chuckled, “that’d be our Vern.”
Annie pushed her glasses up into her wavy black hair. She had a sensible, friendly smile. “You got a minute?”
“I guess.” Janet swept the pile of bulb catalogues off the office’s other chair and motioned for her to sit down.
“I meant to come on board the bus,” Annie said, “I’ve got a bunch of stuff I’d like to go over with you, and I can bring it all out here, but…”
But we’d rather deal with you on our turf.
“The sponsors give us so much free food, I’m always trying to share it. Honestly, if I eat one more box of chocolate chip cookies…”
Chocolate chip cookies? Was Janet staring at good fortune or a great background check that they knew her weakness for chocolate chip cookies? Her stomach growled, as if to say it wouldn’t quibble much either way. “Well, okay.” It wasn’t as if there’d be many customers. Everyone in town would probably be at the church preschool by now anyway.
The bus doors folded open with a whoosh, and Annie motioned for Janet to step inside. As she walked up the steep stairs, Janet noticed a hand-carved sign hung over the entryway. Home Green Home, it read.
“Drew made that one weekend when it was pouring rain and we were all beyond thankful to have a warm, dry place to sleep. He started calling the bus ‘Home Green Home’ after that, and it stuck. Granted, though, some days this bus feels less homey than others.” Annie shot Janet a look as she turned toward the bus’s center table. The bus was high-end; sleek and well-appointed with all kinds of comforts like a microwave, several televisions and plush furnishings. It also had a chaotic, slightly messy feel to it, as papers and videotapes and a few boxes of T-shirts were parked on every available surface. The table, however, was clear and neatly arranged. “Some days a corporate cubicle looks like a positive vacation. Drew’s nonstop creativity can be…well, non-stop. But most days this is an amazing job and I thank God for the chances I’ve got.”
