Shot Through the Hearth Page 3

  Rafe and Wade had exchanged a purely male look, and I knew what they were thinking. How could any guy compete with a big burly Scotsman in a kilt?

  The answer was obvious. They couldn’t.

  * * *

  * * *

  Two nights later, I invited Marigold and Rafe over for spaghetti and meatballs. While I stirred the pasta sauce, Mac poured the wine.

  “Thanks,” Rafe said after his glass was filled. “I’m glad you invited us over tonight because I wanted to talk to you both about the foundation.”

  “It’s a great idea,” Mac said.

  “I’m glad you think so, because I want you both to be on my board of directors.”

  I turned away from the stove and stared at him. “Are you serious? I don’t have any experience with that sort of thing. I wouldn’t know the first thing to do.”

  “I can help with that,” Rafe said with a grin.

  “You’re a vital member of this community, Shannon,” Marigold said. “And you have lots of great ideas for improving people’s lives.”

  I stared at her, then nodded reluctantly. “I do get a kick out of coming up with helpful innovations. But really, I’m just a small-town building contractor.”

  Rafe leaned against the counter. “You have expertise in alternative energy sources and you know all the different types of environmentally sound products and materials that are on the market. And you use them for your home renovations. You know more than you think you do, and I know you would add a lot of good input to the board’s decision-making process.”

  “What kinds of decisions are you trying to make?”

  He took a sip of wine. “We’ll be funding small companies and individuals who are leading the way, inventing new products and bringing their own brand of new technologies to the marketplace.”

  I gave the sauce one more stir and set down the spoon. “Your foundation sounds a lot like the company you used to run. What’s the difference?”

  Rafe nodded. “The company was involved in research and development of new products, then patenting them and finally producing them. The foundation doesn’t do that work itself, but instead gives money to small companies and individuals who are focused on finding solutions to the world’s biggest challenges.” He chuckled ruefully. “My partners at the company didn’t have such lofty aims. Which is one reason why I finally retired.”

  Marigold squeezed his arm. “But while you were there, you came up with wonderful ideas that are already helping to change the world.”

  He smiled at her and gave her a kiss. “Thank you.” Finally he glanced back at me. “As a building contractor, you’re on the front line. You’re constantly learning about the latest innovations and choosing the most energy-efficient products and materials. And you’re devising the newest and best methods for putting it all together.”

  I frowned. “You’re making me sound like some kind of brilliant strategist, and I’m so not that.”

  “Yes you are,” Marigold insisted with a smile.

  I looked at her fondly. “You’re sweet, but we both know I’m not.”

  She just grinned and swirled her wine, so I switched my gaze over to Rafe, who, lest I forgot, was my newest client. “I guess you’re right in one aspect. I do keep up on the latest innovations in the building industry. But seriously, I’m no genius. I just want the best for my client.”

  Rafe flashed a big grin. “I appreciate that.”

  I let out a breath. “Well, then I’d be honored to help the foundation in any way I can.”

  “Good. Thank you.” He immediately turned his focus to Mac. “Will you join us on the board of directors?”

  “Sure. Sounds like a kick in the pants.”

  “I hope so.” Rafe shook his head, laughing. “You also may have heard about the conference I’m holding next October.”

  “I’ve heard some rumors,” Mac said. “Mainly from you.”

  Rafe laughed again. “Yeah, I’m pretty psyched about it. And I’m hoping you’ll moderate a panel on worst-case scenarios.”

  I set down the sauce spoon and gazed at Mac. “You would be great at that. Your books are filled with so many of them.”

  “That’s true enough.” Mac stood at the chopping block, cutting up a cucumber for the salad. “Sure. I’ll be happy to do it. Would you like me to come up with solutions or just present some problems?”

  “You could do both if you want,” Rafe said. “It’s up to you.”

  “You want MacGyver stuff or Jake Slater stuff?”

  Rafe looked puzzled. “What’s the difference?”

  Mac didn’t even have to think about it. “Okay. Say there’s the threat of a nuclear bomb going off in the lighthouse. Naturally, both Jake Slater and MacGyver will save the day, but Jake will do it by kidnapping the drug warlord who planted the bomb in the first place, dragging him into the lighthouse, and forcing him at knifepoint to call off the threat. But meanwhile, his entire army of cutthroats are already advancing and Jake will have to fight them off with his bare hands. And the knife, of course.”

  “Wow,” Marigold whispered.

  “MacGyver, on the other hand,” Mac continued, “will devise a gadget made of toothpicks and a hairnet that he’ll use to jam the timer and prevent the bomb from exploding.”

  Rafe’s deep laugh was filled with delight. “I knew you’d be the perfect choice.”

  Chapter Two

  Two months later

  “How’s it going, boss?”

  I looked up from the bucket of drywall mud and beamed with delight at the familiar face at the doorway. “Dad! How are you?”

  “Couldn’t be better,” he said, looking relaxed and happy. I hadn’t seen him in a while and I had to fight back the wave of emotion that grabbed hold of me. It wouldn’t be cool to burst into tears on a construction site.

  I glanced over at my head carpenter, Sean Brogan. “Can you take it from here?”

  “Sure. I’ll get Todd to help out. You go visit with your dad.”

  “Thanks.” I wiped the beads of perspiration from my forehead, walked across Rafe’s new master bedroom, and gave Dad a light hug. “I don’t want to get any drywall powder on you.”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time,” he said with a grin, then turned back. “Thanks, Sean.”

  “You bet. Good to see you, Jack.”

  Dad and I strolled down the wide hall toward the front part of the house. “Man, this place is going to be fantastic. Love the open concept.”

  “I do, too. It’s slow going, though. The demo took a few extra weeks because instead of simply pounding down the walls with sledgehammers, Rafe wanted to save everything. You know, like the original woodwork and the plaster ceiling molds. All those special Victorian touches.”

  “I guess I don’t blame him.”

  “I don’t, either. He’s into repurposing, so we’ve already got plans to panel his new office with the old wood planks from the porch. It’s going to be awesome.”

  Dad nodded. “Sounds neat.”

  “Niall’s going to use the bricks from the old chimney in the new patio, and Marigold snagged the staircase balusters to use in the garden. She thinks they’ll be perfect for growing squash and beans.”

  “Everything old is new again,” Dad murmured.

  “Yeah. The master bedroom is the first room to be dry-walled. I want to finish one room completely so Marigold will be able to see how beautiful it’s going to be. She visits for a while every day and watches us frame walls and install new pipes. We’re still working on the wiring and yesterday we started on the ventilation system. It can get a little boring, you know?”

  “How can you say that?” he demanded.

  I laughed. “Hey, I’m never bored. But you know—civilians.”

  He chuckled along with me. “She’s going to love everything.”
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  “I think so, too.” In the newly framed dining room I pointed up. “Coffered ceiling’s going to be gorgeous.”

  He smiled warmly. “You do good work, kiddo.”

  “I had a pretty good teacher.”

  He slung his arm around my shoulder. “Come on, I’ll buy you a cup of coffee.”

  We walked out the front door and down the newly built staircase, then crossed the wide plot of dirt that would become the front yard in a few months. Along the side of what would be Rafe’s driveway was a utility table that held a large coffee urn, an electric teapot, plenty of mugs, cream and sugar, and a completely empty box of donuts.

  We made small talk while we each poured a cup of coffee and strolled out to the bench that sat by the old barn. The sun was moving toward the highest spot in the sky but the air was breezy enough to cool me off.

  I gazed at him fondly. “How are you, Dad?”

  “I’m good. I’ve missed you.”

  “I’ve missed you, too. You don’t park your RV in my driveway anymore.”

  He shrugged. “The marina has free parking for boat owners.”

  I knew that, but still. I sighed. “It probably wouldn’t matter anyway. I’ve been so tied up with this job, I don’t even know what day it is. What’s going on with you?”

  “I’ve been keeping busy,” he said. “Helping out at the winery. Taking my boat out on the weekends.”

  “Fishing?”

  “You bet. Brought home some beautiful salmon last week.”

  “Really?” I gave him a look. “I don’t recall seeing any salmon in my freezer.”

  He grinned. Usually when my father and uncle went fishing, they brought back enough fish to feed the whole town. My freezer was always packed with their bounty.

  “We just caught enough for one meal this time. Pete and I grilled it for some friends.”

  “That’s what I get for being out of touch.” I stared at him over the rim of my coffee cup. “Which friends are those?”

  His smile had turned dreamy, causing alarm bells to ring in my head. “They’re new in town. I don’t think you’ve met them.”

  “You may be right. I don’t get out as much as I usually do.”

  And the “friends” Dad was talking about would be gone in another week anyway, I thought. He and my uncle Pete loved the ladies, had always enjoyed dating women who were on vacation in the area. But there had never been a hint of a long-term commitment from either of them. They were perfectly happy to wine and dine a pair of visiting tourists for a week or two and then say good-bye.

  “Do you have enough help on this job?” he asked. “I could get a couple of the guys together and we could give you a hand.”

  “Aw, thanks, Dad,” I said, a little choked up by his offer. He and his cronies had been building houses in the area for as long as I had been alive. Last Christmas, they had helped me out on a project and it was wonderful to have them around. “But I’ve got a full crew and we’re making good time. It’s just that we’ve got several other structures to build in time for Rafe’s conference in October, along with a full conference site and parking area to be graded and landscaped.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard about that conference. Pete’s doing a wine tasting one of those nights.”

  “That’s right. Maybe you’ll come with him.”

  “Maybe,” he said.

  “And we’re doing a barn raising.”

  He did a double take at that. “A barn raising. Sounds serious.”

  I laughed. “It is.”

  He glanced around, then homed in on me. “Do you know what you’re doing there?”

  Still laughing, I shook my head. “To tell you the truth, no. I’ve never actually built a barn. But I’ve built everything else under the sun and the guys and I watched a bunch of videos and studied up on the techniques. And Sean just found out from a friend that there’s an Amish family in Pennsylvania who’s getting ready to build a new barn. I’m going to send him back to learn all about it.”

  “For real?”

  “Yeah.” I gave a quick shrug. “I’m hoping he’ll bring back a consultant or two for the event.”

  Dad nodded, but still didn’t look convinced. “Might be a good idea.”

  “Oh. And we’ve got a firm of structural engineers working on the plans with us.”

  Now he grinned. “You could’ve mentioned that earlier.”

  It was my turn to laugh. “Have a little confidence, Dad. You taught me everything I know. Remember?”

  “Yeah, and I did a pretty darn good job.” He nudged his shoulder against mine. “And I have more than a little confidence in you, sweetheart.”

  I soaked up the closeness, breathed in his familiar scent of Old Spice mixed with fresh sawdust. Maybe the sawdust aroma was coming from me this time, but it didn’t matter. It took me back to a time when we worked side by side every day.

  “I miss you, Dad.” I had to laugh. “I guess I might’ve mentioned that.”

  “Yeah. But you know I’m only a few blocks away.” He chuckled. “But I miss you, too. We get busy and go along, forgetting that life could change in a heartbeat. I don’t want so much time to pass before we get together again.”

  The breeze ruffled my hair and I pulled my baseball cap down more firmly. I could hear the sounds of a table saw whirring, the breathy rhythm of a nail gun, and the intermittent beat-beat-beat of a hammer in the distance. It was like familiar music, these sounds I’d heard my whole life.

  After a few more seconds I straightened and gazed at my father. He was hedging. “What’s really going on with you, Dad?”

  He frowned. “Never could put anything over on you.”

  His expression was so serious, my eyes widened in real concern. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?”

  “No, no. Nothing like that. Shoot.” He scowled, then rubbed his hands over his face. “I’m blowing this.”

  I jumped up from the bench. “Blowing what? I’m really worried now. Just tell me, Dad, before I completely freak out.”

  “It’s nothing.” He laughed ruefully. “Except that I’m a knucklehead.”

  “But why? Come on. Spill it now.”

  “Okay, okay.” He shook his head, then started to smile, and finally his entire face split into a joyous grin. “It’s just that, I’ve met a woman.”

  I stared at him, trying to figure out exactly what he was telling me. He met women all the time, but this sounded serious. And he looked so darn happy. But before I could ask him anything, I heard my name shouted from the house.

  “Shannon! We’ve got a problem.”

  I turned and saw Sean waving from the front porch. “Oh, shoot. Can you wait a few minutes, Dad?”

  “No, you go ahead, honey. I’ve got to get going anyway.”

  “But we have to talk,” I said.

  “We will,” he said, and gave me a big hug. “We’ll talk soon.”

  * * *

  * * *

  A month later, the tower went up. Thanks to Niall and his small team of bricklayers and stonemasons, it took less than a week to finish. Record time, I thought. And it was just as Rafe had described it, a cement bunker, forty feet high and twenty-by-twenty-feet square. Inside there were three floors and a rooftop. There were stairs between the floors as well as ramps that led up to the next level. The second and third floors were open, like lofts, with railings where you could look over and see the floor below. It was a pretty clever design, if I said so myself. I had worked it out with Niall, Rafe, and Julian, the plant guy who would be filling the place with greenery.

  We had left plenty of seemingly random open spaces in all four walls to act as windows where we would be installing the solar-tracking louvers Rafe and I had discussed.

  Rafe had gone through a dozen names for his concrete vertical garden tower before settling on the name
“Ecosphere.” He wrestled with the fact that the tower wasn’t technically spherical, but calling it the “Eco-Tower” didn’t work for him. Neither did Eco-Cube, Eco-Spire, Eco-Square, Eco-Quad, or Eco-whatever else we tried. “Ecosphere” worked, and that’s what he settled on.

  Before Niall started working on the tower, I had asked Rafe whether or not he planned to have the tower demolished after the conference. He had decided to keep it intact and maybe use it for other purposes later. Because of this, I decided to add some flourishes to the basic design. Nothing fancy, just smooth wood framing around the ground-floor entryway and around each of the windows, plus a foot-wide ledge of thick, sturdy wood on top of the concrete block walls of the rooftop.

  It looked good, and I had a fleeting thought that I would love to show it to my Dad. It had been a month since I’d talked to him. We had left messages back and forth, but I was so busy on this job that I just hadn’t been able to find time to get together. I wanted to hear more about the woman he had mentioned. I would have to try and carve out some time to visit him, but knowing what my schedule looked like for the next few months, I wasn’t sure when that would happen.

  * * *

  * * *

  A week after the tower was finished, a large flatbed truck rolled onto the property and headed straight for the tower. The back of the truck was packed with every sort of tree, bush, and plant I could possibly name. Rafe and another man hopped out and walked toward me.

  “Shannon,” Rafe said. “You remember Julian Reedy, the plant guy?”

  “Sure,” I said, shielding my eyes from the sun. “Hi, Julian.”

  “Howdy,” Julian said, his tone friendly as he reached to shake my hand. He had a full head of wavy brown hair and was good-looking in a tall, thin, and sinewy way. His arms and hands were strong, and I imagined he’d developed those muscles after hauling hundreds of large pots of trees and bushes and then shoveling dirt to plant them.