Glynna Kaye - Rekindling The Widower's Heart

“Enjoying the scenery, are you, Luke?”

Yanked from his reverie, he downed the remainder of his coffee and faced the café’s owner. A big bruiser of a guy in his early sixties, he sported a shiny shaved head and close-cropped beard. A former Marine, he wasn’t someone you’d care to meet in a dark alley if he didn’t call you friend.

“Looks to be a nice day, Packy.”

“I figured you might think that.” His friend chuckled as Luke lifted a hand to stop a coffee refill. “Pretty gal, isn’t she? I heard she’s helping with the Christ’s Church youth program this summer. Better keep an eye on Travis.”

Packy winked, and Luke’s fingers involuntarily tightened on the cup. “Travis already has a girlfriend.”

What was he saying? Girlfriend or no girlfriend, Delaney was way too old to be potential sweetheart material for his son. Just as she was way too young for him.

“Maybe so. But boys will be boys and that little lady is a sure-enough eye catcher.” Packy chuckled again, handed him his bill, and moved on to the next table.

Thanks a lot, buddy, for giving me another thing to worry about. He and Travis had talked before he’d left for school and it was mutually agreed that he owed Delaney an apology. He was proud of that boy—most of the time. Had he given his own dad so much grief as a teen?

Probably, if their current relationship was any indication. Please, Lord, don’t let me and Travis end up in the same place as I am with Dad.

He glanced at the slip of paper Packy had given him, pulled cash from his wallet, then tucked the bills under his coffee cup. He needed to get going. He had more important things to do today than gawk at Delaney Marks. At any woman for that matter. But when he stepped outside, he couldn’t help but scan the street for some sign of her.

She’d already disappeared.

He called to Rags, who’d been basking in the sun outside the café, then held open the door to his Chevy crew cab for the pup to make a running leap inside. While they kept office space here in town for the sake of convenience, Hunter’s Hideaway was the heart and soul of Hunter Enterprises and he needed to get on back to home base.

The Hideaway, as most called the extensive, wooded property, had been in the family for six generations. In fact, it was the first business on the ridge, one started by his great-great-grandparents to accommodate the needs of hunters and back-country explorers in the early 1900’s. Originally only a handful of cabins and a corral, it set the tone for a town that would soon follow. What would his ancestors think of it now? Boasting dozens of cabins, an inn with dining facilities, a general store, horse boarding, trail rides and more, it kept Luke’s extended family busy around the clock.

He had a lot to get done today, but business with a potential hay supplier had required a breakfast meeting in town. It was already past nine now and he had more than enough to do to fill the coming hours.

“The day’s getting away from us, Rags.”

The dog sitting on the seat next to him perked his ears, tail wagging, and Luke gave him a hearty pat just as his cell phone rang.

“How goes it, Luke?” The voice of his old army comrade, Josh, echoed warmly across the miles.

About eight hundred miles, to be exact. If all went as hoped, he’d be able to drive the kids from Kansas back to Hunter Ridge for most major holidays and a few weeks each summer. But he wasn’t ready to break that news to them just yet.

He inserted the key in the ignition and rolled down the window on the driver’s side. “I guess congratulations are in order for that diploma a few weeks ago. Assuming you didn’t get kicked out the door before graduation day, that is.”

“Yeah, I finally got that university sheepskin. Feels good.”

Both of his Kansas friends, a handful of years younger than Luke, had taken advantage of the GI Bill to further their education. That’s something he’d intended to do. Where had time gotten to? But that lack of a degree was something he could remedy once he relocated to the Sunflower State.

“So what’s up?” Luke’s gaze roamed the street. Then, disgusted to realize he was looking for Delaney again, he turned away from the window.

“Vinnie thought we should touch base since we haven’t talked in a while. See if you’re on board to join up when that loan comes through.”

“I am.” Vinnie and Josh had a solid business plan—thanks to help from him—as well as a need for someone computer and numbers savvy to oversee the accounting of their growing enterprise. Several banks had turned them down on the expansion loan, but they had high hopes for this latest application. “Say the word.”

“That’s what we wanted to hear. I’ll relay this to Vinnie, so have a good rest of your day, buddy.”

“That’s it?” He’d always teased Josh for his reticence, so unlike Vinnie, who’d talk your ear off. “You don’t want to know what the weather is like here today or how my kids are doing?”

Josh laughed. “Report that in an email, okay? A short one.”

Still smiling, Luke shut off the phone and started up the truck. Those guys were top-notch. Definitely men he’d wanted watching his back in a combat zone. It would be great working with them again. Before school started, if all went well.

Not too far down the street he slowed to take the first of several curves snaking up the ridge through town and glanced toward the Artists’ Co-op gallery. A natural stone building, it bumped up against a quilt shop on one side and an empty Hunter-owned storefront on the other.

No sign of Delaney.

He pressed his foot to the gas pedal and continued on, noting again how art-related studios and shops were filling in the empty properties more and more. He shook his head.

Luke rolled down the window on the passenger side, letting the cool air swirl in to hit him full in the face. Yeah, Uncle Doug’s ex-wife, Charlotte, had started it all. That divorce had caused his uncle—the whole family—a heap of trouble.

“And you know what, buddy?” He glanced at Rags. “She not only had the gall to sell and lease to outsiders the properties her lawyers wrested away from Uncle Doug, she made sure she got them into the hands of those she knew would most stick in the craw of the community.”

His grip tightened on the wheel. One artist soon became two. Then three. And four... What if by a freak turn of events Sunshine Carston beat his mother during the town council elections? While the council had cautiously addressed the demands of that growing community, they’d never before had one of them in their midst.

What if Delaney Marks got involved in the campaign? He’d tried to warn her off that first day when he’d caught a glimpse of Sunshine’s flier in her possession. But with her committing the kids to that Mason house deal, he didn’t put a whole lot of confidence in her personal judgment.

“Don’t borrow trouble,” he said aloud, slowing to drive down a graveled, tree-lined stretch of road that led to home. Sun dappled through the needled branches of the towering pines, a jay called out, and the familiar scent of the forest wafted through the open windows. He relaxed his hands on the steering wheel, determined not to dwell on the consequences of Aunt Char’s vindictive betrayal of the family she’d married into. There was nothing he could do about that. Water under the bridge.

But he might yet be able to steer Ms. Marks away from local politics. And possibly even get her to recognize that another project would be more suitable than bending over backward to assist the Masons.

* * *

“Your workmanship shows much promise. But it’s not quite there yet.”

A wave of icy cold washed through Delaney as she stared into the keen black-brown eyes of Sunshine Carston, manager of the Hunter Ridge Artists’ Cooperative.