“Before we do any of that,” he said as he fished his car keys from the pocket of his shorts, “we’ll go over to Miss Calhoun’s and help put all of her supplies away.”
“That’s really not necessary,” she objected. “You’ve spent most of the afternoon here, and I’d hate to keep you from your fun any longer.”
He didn’t respond to that as he beeped open the doors of a gray sedan so the girls could climb into their spots in the backseat. Glancing at them, he then turned to Emma. “I know you’re not supposed to say this kind of thing to a lady, but you look totally wiped out. I can’t just take off and leave you here to manage all this stuff by yourself.”
It hadn’t occurred to her that he’d be able to read her physical signs so well, and then she reminded herself that he was all too familiar with the kind of exhaustion that occasionally still came out of nowhere to stop her in her tracks. So, since he clearly had no intention of letting the subject drop, she relented with a smile. “That’s very sweet of you. Thanks.”
“Not a problem.”
His quick smile seemed genuine enough, but she noticed that it didn’t quite reach his eyes. So much sadness, she lamented as she got into her car and started the engine. Sarah Marshall must have been a remarkable woman for him to still love her so much even though she was gone. That kind of loyalty was rare these days, which Emma knew from personal experience. Her last boyfriend had bolted soon after her cancer diagnosis, and while she didn’t blame him, his lack of fortitude had been a tremendous disappointment to her. That Rick had remained strong for his family said a lot about the kind of man he was beneath the expertly pressed shorts and deck shoes.
When they arrived at her house, she pulled into the driveway far enough to allow Rick to park behind her. She got out and looked back to find that there was a ruckus going on in his backseat. She peeked in to find the girls bouncing in place, pointing at the old maple tree that shaded the front yard. She walked back to meet her guests, and he chuckled as Caitlin and Aubrey bolted from the car and made a beeline for the tree. “I think they like your swing.”
“So do I,” she replied, strolling over to join them. The seat was wide enough for them to sit side by side, and she gave them a light push to get them started. “My brothers and I grew up here, and my dad hung a swing from this tree when we were kids. There have been a few more since then, and the last time it needed to be replaced I almost didn’t bother. Sam insisted on hanging a new one for me, to keep the tradition going. Seeing how much your girls like it, I’m glad he did.”
“You’ve always lived here?” Caitlin asked, clearly amazed by the concept.
“Yes. I went away for college, and when I was done, the elementary school’s art teacher was ready to retire. She encouraged me to pursue art when I was young, so it just seemed right to come back here and pick up where she’d left off.”
“That’s so awesome,” the girl approved, glancing at the house and then staring up into the wide branches overhead with a huge grin. “I would’ve done that, too.”
Emma was happy with her decision, but she had to admit that sometimes she wondered what she’d missed by so quickly returning to her tiny hometown. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll have lots of adventures when you’re older. There’s a big, exciting world out there for you to explore.”
“I guess. But it’d be nice to have a house like this to come back to.”
“Did someone paint your windows?” Aubrey asked.
Emma laughed. “Sort of. They’re called stained glass, and it takes a real artist to do them right. My cousin Jordan makes them, and he did them for me as a housewarming gift when I bought the house from my parents a few years ago.”
“Was your house cold?” the adorable cherub asked, forehead puckering in obvious confusion.
At first Emma didn’t understand the question. Then she replayed their exchange in her head and smiled. “A housewarming is when you invite people to see your new home and they bring you presents of things you might need. Like towels or a welcome mat, things like that.”
“And your cousin brought you windows that he made special for you?” When Emma nodded, Aubrey’s eyes widened in appreciation. “That was really nice of him.”
“Yes, it was.”
“Is he your favorite cousin?” Emma nodded again, and the girl said, “My favorite cousin is Gigi. She lives in Vi-ginia. We used to live in Charleston by Grammy and Grampa, but then Daddy got a new job and we moved here.”
Emma glanced over at Rick, who was leaning against the tree, listening to their conversation. When she caught his eye, he gave her a what-can-you-do sort of look, but he didn’t step in to cut off his suddenly chatty daughter. So many people did that to young children, and Emma was pleased to discover that he wasn’t one of them. Kids were openly curious about everything around them, and she’d always hated it when adults tried to maneuver them into behaving more properly.
Quite honestly, she believed that if grown-ups could find a way to be as open-minded as kids were, life would be a lot more fun for everyone.
“And I’m very glad he did,” she told them as she went up the front porch steps of the vintage Craftsman house. “We can always use someone like your dad around here. In Liberty Creek,” she added quickly, to avoid any potential misunderstanding. The Marshall girls were sweet and engaging, but she was well aware that children often repeated things they’d heard without realizing how they might be received when heard out of context. She didn’t want Rick—or anyone else—getting the idea that she personally liked having him around. Considering the Liberty Creek gossip mill, that was the last thing either of them needed.
Pushing open the beautiful original door that Sam had recently refinished for her, she stepped into the living room and motioned them inside. “Come on in.”
The girls pushed past their father and stopped so abruptly, he nearly ran them over. When he’d regained his balance, he looked around with the same awed expression they were wearing.
“Wow,” he murmured, clearly trying to take everything in at once. “This is not at all what I was expecting.”
“I don’t have much use for a living room,” she explained. “What I needed was a studio.”
“And I’d say you have one. This is incredible. Don’t touch anything, girls.”
“Oh, they’re fine,” Emma assured him. “Everything’s dry, and there’s nothing breakable in here. You caught me on a good day—I just cleaned.”
Eyes sparkling in appreciation, Caitlin slowly made her way between easels, pausing to stare at the panoramic landscape that was almost finished. It was so large, it spanned two easels all by itself. Looking up at Emma, she asked, “Is this the town?”
“You have a good eye,” Emma praised her student with a smile. Taking down an aging tintype that was tacked to the upper edge of the canvas, she handed it to Caitlin. “It’s Liberty Creek, but this is how it looked a long time ago. Back when people drove horses and wagons instead of cars, and my grandmother’s bakery was a general store that sold things like fabric, candy, hammers and saddles.”
Rick sauntered over and looked above their heads at the scene. “This is what Liberty Creek Forge looked like back in its heyday?”
“More or less. This piece is a surprise for Brian and Lindsay, so please don’t mention it to either of them. I thought it might look nice hanging in the lobby at the forge.”
“Nice?” he echoed with a