But this wasn’t a normal day, and without Chelsea here to get everything organized for her, Tess had a lot of catching up to do. Squaring her shoulders, she strode into the office and took stock. There was no point in sugarcoating it, she realized. The place was a complete wreck. Paperwork, receipts and invoices were strewn across the desk, and a light dusting of animal fur covered pretty much everything. Even though she wasn’t allergic, just pawing through the layers got her sneezing, and she changed tracks. Clean first, then organize.
With the benefit of some perspective, she recognized that was what she should have done yesterday. The problem was she’d been too overwhelmed by her unfamiliar surroundings to be sensible about—well, anything. Her unhelpful deer-in-the-headlights attitude was history, and she promised herself she wasn’t leaving today until everything was processed and neatly tucked in its proper place.
Chelsea’s baby wasn’t due for another eight weeks, and her condition was more delicate than Tess had understood until this morning. Now that she had an inkling of how the rest of the pregnancy might go, it was obvious to her that she’d have to be lighter on her feet than she was accustomed to. In the interest of beginning her new, more independent life, she’d have to learn how to cope when things went awry. It wasn’t just about her anymore, and her family was counting on her to pitch in and keep the business running as smoothly as Chelsea had.
She’d never been in charge of anything before, but there was no one else to take on that responsibility. Feeling way out of her depth, she pushed her doubts away and finished tidying up the waiting area. One task down, she thought morosely as she reluctantly trudged into the office, a hundred more to go.
When Scott poked his head in the door, she snarled, “What?”
Her cousin backed up, his brown eyes narrowing in response to her mood. “Just wanted to let you know we’re firing up the saws. It’s gonna get pretty loud out here.”
“Thanks for the warning,” she replied in a slightly less cranky tone. “I’m sorry for biting your head off. It’s just—”
“This place is a disaster zone, and you don’t know what to tackle first,” he filled in with an understanding smile. “Mostly, you’re worried about Chelsea and the baby. We all are.”
Tess had grown accustomed to managing life’s unexpected curves on her own, and she found it comforting to know she no longer had to hide her feelings and soldier on, no matter what. “Thanks for understanding.” Looking around, she muttered, “Those headphones must be somewhere.”
Grinning, Scott reached around the door frame and plucked them from a hook on the wall. Exactly where Chelsea had left them, of course.
“Thanks again,” she said, feeling slightly ridiculous. Fortunately, he didn’t mention it, which she really appreciated.
“Sure. I’ll come let you know when it’s safe to take them off.”
With that, he sauntered back toward the production floor, sliding the heavy door shut behind him. Built of solid oak, it blocked some of the sound but did nothing to blunt the thumping vibrations that shook the mill house while the equipment was operating at full speed. Tess focused her attention on the bookkeeping and after a while, anything that wasn’t on the computer screen faded into the background. She was sorting through the online orders that had come in when she noticed the screen on her cell phone blinking with a call.
When she saw it was Paul, she ripped off her headphones and hit Answer all in one motion. “Hello?”
“Hey, Tess,” he answered in an exhausted voice. “How’re things going out there?”
“Oh, fine.” Suddenly, she realized everything was ominously quiet, and the floorboards were no longer shuddering beneath her shoes. With the backlog of orders lined up to be filled, that couldn’t be good, but she decided not to mention it to Paul. “I assume you’re calling with news.”
“Yeah. We’re home now, but the doctor doesn’t like the looks of Chelsea’s blood pressure or the baby’s heartbeat. She’s on bed rest for the duration, starting now.”
An argument was brewing out on the shop floor, and Tess cupped her hand around the phone to keep it from reaching her worried cousin. “You sound wrung out yourself, so stay home today. We can handle this place for a day without you.”
“We? It sounds like you’re trying to take over my business.”
“Trust me, if I was going to do that, it would be at a nice little boutique where I don’t have to worry about losing my hearing,” she retorted in her sauciest tone. “Your precious sawmill is safe from me.”
“Good to know.” She heard a muffled back and forth, then he came back on the line. “Chelsea wanted me to remind you the printer’s been repaired and is waiting for you at the office supply store in town. Unless you want to write everything down by hand for the crew, you’ll need it.”
Tess swallowed a groan of frustration. Apparently, this was going to be one of those days. “Right. Now go get some rest and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Actually, if you can make do without me, I’d like to take Thursday and Friday off, too. Chelsea can’t go up and down the stairs for the next few weeks, so I have to hurry up and finish the extra bathroom I’ve been working on to get everything she needs on the ground floor.”
“Not a problem,” Tess assured him, hoping she came across as more confident than she actually felt. “Chelsea and the baby come first. Take all the time you need.”
“We’re not going anywhere, so call if you get stuck on something.”
“Will do.”
After she hung up, she summoned every ounce of her patience and went to see what the fuss in the back room was about. The sliding door was even heavier than it looked, and it took a determined push for her to get it open. Once she did, she wished she hadn’t.
It looked like several pieces of machinery had exploded at once, spewing oil over everything from the equipment to the hewn lumber that had been stacked according to size in the center of the room. Scott and Jason hadn’t escaped the deluge, and they were standing by the long saw run, arms folded stubbornly while they glowered at each other and debated what to do. As their argument escalated into an all-out shouting match, she shook her head in disgust.
Boys. No matter how old they got, they could still be the dumbest creatures on the planet. Since they didn’t seem to understand that yelling wouldn’t solve anything, she strode in to impose some kind of order. She waited a few seconds for them to notice her then realized they’d probably go on like this until one of them either conceded or ran out of air. Being Barretts, neither of those was likely to happen anytime soon.
Filling her lungs, she yelled, “Hey!” That didn’t make an impression, so she tried again. “Shut up!”
Nothing. Exasperated beyond belief, she recalled the advice her grandmother had given her earlier and went for broke. “If you two morons don’t cut it out, I’m calling Gram.”
That one got through, and her ears rang in the sudden quiet. Shaking her head to clear them, she went on. “Will you please tell me what has you guys at each other’s throats?”
They started in together, and she held up her hands. “One at a time. Start with explaining to me why the saws aren’t running.”
They glared at each other, but fortunately, Jason backed down. “You’re older. You go first.”
“As you can see,” Scott began with a dismissive motion toward the archaic equipment, “everything went haywire. Paul’s the only one who knows how to fix this relic, so I think we should call him.”
“And