Trent managed to chuckle. “I never planned to be more of a businessman than a contractor. To be honest, I’m itching to get my hands on a hammer again—I don’t want my skills to get rusty.”
“Okay. It will make scheduling easier. I’ll get a crew together. And I’m sure Emily will be thrilled you’re starting quickly. She seemed nice.”
“I suppose,” Trent muttered, sorting through a stack of letters Alaina had laid out for him. He made notes on several and gave them back to her before heading out again. Generally he tried to visit the various sites his company worked on at least once, so he had plenty to do before he could concentrate on Meadowlark Lane.
* * *
ALAINA WATCHED HER brother leave, both puzzled and sad. It always seemed as if there was an invisible barrier between them, and she knew the rest of the family felt the same way. She couldn’t blame them for being concerned—he was even more reserved with the rest of the McGregors than he was with her. And despite her hopes, working together hadn’t changed anything.
She filed the contract on 320 Meadowlark Lane, along with a pile of other papers. Until a week ago she’d had a secretarial assistant, but Tamara had come down with the intestinal bug going around...or at least that’s what Tam had thought. It turned out that after giving up hope of ever getting pregnant, Tamara and her husband were finally going to have a baby. But it was a high-risk pregnancy and the doctor had put her on bed rest.
Alaina was happy for Tamara, but couldn’t keep a thread of melancholy from going through her. When would she have her own happy ending?
She pressed her lips together and determinedly focused on the filing. The stomach flu making the rounds was nasty. It could take close to a week to stop feeling washed-out and rubbery—she knew from experience. They would have a challenging couple of months if it spread among the construction workers.
Studying her charting schedule and Emily George’s estimate, she began making notes. It was best to keep the same guys on a job, because it saved time and made the finished product more consistent. Fortunately, their usual summer employees were starting to become available.
A smile curved Alain’s lips. The school year had ended on Friday, which meant Mike Carlisle might be interested in a job. Picking up the phone, she dialed his number.
“Hello,” he answered.
“Hey, it’s Alaina,” she said.
“Yeah, what’s up?” he asked with his usual lack of charm. No, not usual; it was only usual since the accident that had ended his major-league baseball career.
“Are you free to join a construction crew next week?”
“I suppose, but I might have to work a half day to clean out my classroom.”
“Did you have a good year?” she asked.
“Same as always, I guess. There’s nothing new or exciting about teaching.”
That annoyed her. Teaching was a wonderful career. Kids were important and a teacher could make a huge difference in their lives. So what if a teacher didn’t get cheered the way Mike “Lightning” Carlisle had been cheered by his fans?
“How did your students do this year?” she asked, trying to be tactful.
“They passed their finals, so presumably they did all right. Where do you need me next week?”
With a silent sigh, Alaina gave him the address and reminded him to pick up a time card.
Resisting the urge to slam the receiver down, she sat back in her chair and decided to sulk for an entire five minutes. She only allowed herself one sulk-fest a day, being a woman who preferred action over just sitting.
Drat Mike, anyway.
As if she cared that he had a limp and never became known as the fastest base runner in major-league history. She’d been wild about him ever since she was a flat-chested, awkward kid and he was the star player on the school baseball team. The future looked bright for Mike—first he’d scored an athletic scholarship, followed by a major team recruiting him when he graduated from college.
Mike had really been going places. He was traded to another team for his contract two years later and adoring fans had called him Lightning Carlisle, the same nickname he’d earned in Schuyler. Then came that awful day when he’d dived into the stands to catch a fly ball...and never played again. After three knee operations he still limped, but the worst part was seeing how much he’d changed in other ways—he rarely smiled any longer and was as much a loner as Trent.
Alaina tossed her pencil onto the desk. She might as well admit that Mike was acting like a grizzly bear with a mountain-size chip on its shoulder. But that hadn’t kept her from moving back to Montana, hoping he might finally notice her...and feeling utterly stupid for doing something so ridiculous.
And, so far, zilch.
Damn it.
Of course, she could always return to New York. She was still doing freelance work for her company and they kept saying they wanted her back full-time. But she wasn’t going to give up on Mike. There had to be a way to crack his shell.
She looked through the estimate again on Emily’s house and dialed her cell number.
“Hi, Emily, it’s Alaina Hawkins at Big Sky Construction.”
“Don’t tell me, you aren’t coming on Monday after all.” Emily’s dismay was apparent, even over the phone.
“Not at all, you’re still scheduled,” Alaina said hastily. “How did you know a crew was coming?”
“I ran into Trent on my way out.”
“Oh. Well, I’m still figuring out who will be assigned to work on your house, but in the meantime I wanted you to know a chemical toilet will be delivered for the crew.”
“Ick. There’s a small half bath off the kitchen that they could use instead.”
“Okay, but I’ll tell them to clean it every day and provide their own soap and stuff. Personally, I wouldn’t touch a toilet used by construction workers—their aim is terrible. I make the guys working in the construction yard use one in a separate building.”
Emily laughed. “I’ll let you know if it gets too bad. Anything else?”
Alaina checked the notes she’d made when writing up the contract. “I’m also ordering a large Dumpster. Is there space in the yard where it can go?”
“There’s room in the front or on the driveway. It’s wide and I can always park somewhere else if necessary.”
They finished their call and Alaina went back to thinking about ways to catch Mike’s attention. You’d think in such a small town they’d run into each other more. Nevertheless, she was determined to come up with a workable plan, which shouldn’t be impossible for a woman who’d earned an MBA.
But she had an idea. Mike would be a great addition to the annual auction for a “dinner with a bachelor or bachelorette.”
She planned on making sure she was the committee member who approached him...and still needed to figure out the right way to ask. Everyone knew where he lived and it shouldn’t be difficult to come up with excuses to visit the Meadowlark Lane job site, either. He couldn’t duck her that easily at work, and any contact with him would be better than nothing. Besides, she wanted to visit the house and see if it jogged any memories.
Pleased with her new plan, Alaina grabbed her pencil again and returned to the scheduling chart.
Okay, she’d put Mike on the crew, along with Eduardo, Vince and Caveman...she erased Caveman and wrote Chuck. Chuck was a caveman, but her brother didn’t think it looked professional to have nicknames on the official schedule. With those guys and Trent, they’d be able to handle the range of work required. Emily needed everything from a new