Bonnie Winn - Return to Rosewood

Bret turned a page—to a photo of himself and Sam at college graduation with grins as wide as the state of Texas. The picture hit him like a fist to the gut. Back then, full of youthful optimism, he’d been sure she would reconsider leaving Rosewood. He’d believed it until she boarded the bus out of town.

“Were we ever that young?” she asked in a quiet voice.

Bret knew he couldn’t give in to his own emotions. “We’re not exactly approaching Methuselah time.”

Sam laughed, a humorless, brittle sound.

Silence blared between them. Feeling the tension in every muscle, Bret flipped another page in the album. The lone sound of it turning echoed. Unwilling to look at Sam, he studied the photos, then turned another page. And saw a picture taken in the kitchen. “Here’s one.” He tapped the photo. “We can get this enlarged for detail. It’s a good angle on the cabinets.”

She looked down. “I’ve been thinking about what you said. And you’re right. I can’t expect people I haven’t seen in years to help me. It’s a massive project and—”

“Did your parents have any renovations done since this picture?”

“I don’t think so.” Distracted, she shook her head. “Mom was always talking about upgrading, but she didn’t want to lose her cabinets.”

Sitting close to Sam, he felt the brush of her arm, the accidental graze of her hands as she reached for the album. Not moving, his gaze slid sideways. Her creamy ivory skin was just as he remembered. And the way her dark hair fell forward, just brushing her cheek. Wanting to sweep it back, to feel the softness of her cheek, he stood up abruptly.

As soon as possible, he’d hand over the responsibility for the kitchen to someone in her family. They could find the volunteers, get the renovations going. Without worrying what Sam’s presence would do to them.

Startled by his sudden movement, Sam looked up at him.

Bret paced the floor, deliberately not looking at her. “I’ve talked to Matt Whitaker. He’s agreed to work on the cabinets.” Matt was a local artisan who designed furniture and other works of wood so remarkable he had a national following.

“His work is beautiful,” she agreed. “But since he’s become famous—”

“Nobody in Rosewood gets so famous they can’t help a neighbor.”

She swallowed.

Making himself study the photo and not Sam, Bret held it up to the light. “So, what did your mother not want that’s in the kitchen now?”

“A fire.”

Her wit had always captivated him. Nearly as much as the way her blue eyes could deepen, then capture him and not let go.

“Bret?”

He brought himself back to the planet with a jerk. “Yeah. Um, she still want a table in there or something more modern like an island?”

Samantha pushed the midnight-colored hair from her forehead. “She said something about updating, modernizing the kitchen, but not losing the integrity of the house’s time period. I know she wants a refrigerator that doesn’t stick out any farther than the counters and a bigger stove in an alcove sort of thing.”

Bret glanced at the destroyed appliances. “I think we can work new ones into the plan.”

“Seems like she had some magazines set aside with pictures of what she likes…”

Resisting an urge to look through the entire photo album and find more pictures of himself and Sam together, he dropped the photo on the table. “I’ve got to get over to the nursery.”

She looked confused. “But your breakfast…”

He grabbed the container. “I’ve got a new employee starting today—my brother-in-law, Herb. Can’t keep him waiting.”

“Well—”

“I’ll try to get by this evening to wreck out some of the kitchen.”

“Okay, I’ll—”

Fleeing, Bret didn’t wait to hear her reply. From the disquieting trickle of sweat traveling down his back, he knew he didn’t dare.

Bret parked in the nursery lot, immediately seeing Herb’s small truck, but not Peter’s car. Fuming under his breath, he met his brother-in-law at the front. “See what I mean about Peter?” He unlocked the door. “I have a key for you in the office. Looks like you’ll use one more than Peter does.”

Herb tried to keep his expression neutral.

“It’s okay.” Bret flipped on the lights. “You can say what you think.”

“Nope. Too soon for me to have an opinion.”

“Won’t take long,” Bret muttered.

And it didn’t take long, either, for a tour of all the nooks and crannies of the old main building.

“I’ll show you the outbuildings later.”

“Funny how you don’t notice everything when you’re just browsing.” Herb studied the rows and rows of herbs that stretched out in one screened area. “Looks like I’ve got a lot to learn.”

“After I show you the cash register, we’d better do your paperwork—W-4 and the lot the government requires.”

The bell jangled on the front door and Peter strolled inside.

Glancing at his watch, Bret noted the time. He intended to keep track of it so he didn’t have any issues about Peter’s probation and its likely outcome.

Giving Herb time to finish the forms, Bret made a pot of coffee. By the time it brewed, Peter emerged from the back.

“Peter, you’ve probably seen Herb here before.”

His assistant manager shrugged. “Lot of people come in here.”

“Herb’s starting today.”

That got Peter’s attention.

Herb extended his hand. Peter ignored him.

Bret counted silently to ten. “Herb will be working more on the inside. But he needs to learn everything.”

Sullenly, Peter stared at Herb without replying.

Pulling the spare key from his pocket, Bret handed it to Herb.

“Hey.” Peter’s face mottled into an ugly shade of red. “You didn’t give me a key until everybody else left.”

“I can trust Herb,” Bret replied briefly, not feeling any need for explanations.

“You friends?” Peter questioned.

“Not that it’s your concern, but Herb’s my brother-in-law.”

A sarcastically knowing expression flooded Peter’s harsh features. “Oh. Great. I’m on probation and all of a sudden, your brother-in-law’s working here?” He snorted. “And you making out like it was ’cause I was late yesterday when all the time you were planning on hiring him.”

“Your work record speaks for itself. And for what it’s worth, you pushed me over the edge yesterday. I was more inclined to fire you than give you a warning.”

“You taking back the probation?”

Bret frowned. “No. You either shape up or you’re out.”

“Like it’s going to be a fair test. Keep me on or your relative!” Slinking away, Peter muttered something unintelligible.

“That went well,” Herb commented. “I’d forgotten how fun orientation day is.”

“He’d have found out soon enough you’re family.”

Herb clapped one hand on Bret’s shoulder. “Well, brother, any more benefits like that and I’ll be spoiled for any other job.”

Despite himself, Bret grinned. “It’s going to be good having you around.”

“Remember that when I mix up the petunias and the pansies.”

If that was the worst he had to worry about, Bret would consider himself a lucky man.

It was late by the time Bret managed to get back to Sam’s. Herb was intelligent, filled with initiative, but still, a full day of training was tiring. Not to mention all the hostility from Peter.

So he wasn’t in a very talkative mood. “Let’s split the work. You look for the magazines with the stuff your mother likes. I’ll wreck out the old kitchen.”

“Oh, that sounds fair.” Before starting the search, Sam trailed him down the hall toward the kitchen, flinching when she looked at the scorched remains. “The counter was so beautiful.”