“Dune Girl” chapters 21-30

Ah, it’s summer! If you haven’t made it to the beach — yet — here’s a free read/beach reach/clean read from a point in my writing career at which I was experimenting with romance novels.

This post includes chapters 21-30, with one more set of chapters to follow. If you missed the beginning of the story, click here to start at Chapter 1.

Dune Girl

copyright 2018

by Nora Edinger

Chapter 21

The package from his mother was hand delivered to the door of his workshop late Tuesday afternoon. Michael was several hours deep into a flurry of carving – a door panel of small, stylized birds and leafy branches this time — and was annoyed to have to stop to sign for it.

It’s not like he didn’t know what was inside, although he’d never seen the ring except on his grandmother’s hand, and that hadn’t been for years and years. Elena had preferred a diamond in a modern setting instead of the square-cut emerald with a border of tiny diamonds that graced the vintage, platinum specimen.

His awareness of the ring’s value outweighing his annoyance, Michael was now thoroughly interrupted from the flow of his work. He mounted the stairs to his apartment two at a time and stuffed the package, unopened, into the back of his sock drawer. Safe enough. Then, he just stood there, thinking.

Jo-Jo could be a real pain. He whipped out his cell phone and sent a text message meant to rebuke.

24.

Jo-Jo, obviously undaunted, replied immediately.

Well above the age of consent in all 50 states. Get over it.

Michael stuffed the phone back into his pocket. After all these years, he should know better than to try to duke it out with his baby sister. She’s the one who should find someone, he thought peevishly. If anyone in the family needed to settle down it was Jo-Jo.

He gave a sudden shudder at the thought, however, wondering what kind of man would be willing to take on her particular variety of tempest. He could only imagine the roar of battle that would surely ensue if one of the endless stream of short-term boyfriends Jo-Jo seemed to prefer dared to push for anything more.

Yet, the phone came out again in a moment of rashness.

You get married first and then you can hound me all you want! he slowly typed with his thumbs.

Take that, Jo-Jo Alton. Michael smiled to himself when no answer came back. He galloped back down the stairs to resume his work. Maybe once, just once, he had managed to shock his little sister into speechlessness.

Little did he know he’d had a much greater effect. Alone in her office, hundreds of miles away, Jo-Jo sat at her desk carefully dabbing at her eyes lest any of her employees see a hint of the tears that had sprung up there at her brother’s taunt.

Michael of all people should surely have known that – sometimes – being the boss just isn’t enough.

*****

Michael’s phone rang, however, before he could even pick up a chisel. He rolled his eyes.

“I should’ve known better,” he said, answering it without even checking to see who it was. “Jo-Jo, I mean it. Lay off already!”

But, it wasn’t Jo-Jo. It was David Parker, his best friend for as long as he could remember.

“Hey, bro. Trouble brewing?” David practically yelled into the phone, his voice in keeping with the bold way in which he ran his tech business in Silicon Valley. Well used to sibling spats between the Altons, he plowed on. “What are you up to? It’s been way too long.”

Michael slid down onto the floor, his back propped against a wall, and abandoned the idea of getting anything else done today. His hands were tired anyway. Some guy talk might be a relief.

“Not much,” Michael said, immediately feeling the dishonesty of what he said. “Well, not too much.”

David pounced. “Could that ‘not too much’ be a woman? It’s about time.”

“You’re one to talk.” Michael answered good naturedly enough, but he intended to avoid his friend’s question at all costs. David, also in his late 30s, didn’t really have the time to give to a serious relationship given the demands of his business. He dated as erratically as Jo-Jo did.

David seemed willing to be diverted, unusual given his tendency for laser-like focus on anything outside of the marital arena. “Actually, that’s what I wanted to call you about. There’s something I want to run by you.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m moving back home,” David said.

“You’re kidding. You love California.”

“I do,” David said. “But, I’m getting bored. Business is great, but I feel like I’ve accomplished everything here I wanted to do. I’m done.”

“What are you going to do in Raleigh?” Michael couldn’t imagine David playing golf or anything else remotely connected to a leisurely retirement.

“I’m not selling the company, just delegating the day-to-day stuff,” David said, his next words coming out in a flurry. “I don’t want to retire. I’m just planning to get married and have a ridiculous number of children. I closed on the Caldwell House just yesterday, in fact. That’s going to be home.”

It was Michael that was shocked into speechlessness.

“Alton, are you there?

“I’m here. Did you just say you’re getting married and you want to have children? I didn’t even know you were seriously dating anyone.”

“I’m not, at least not exactly. This is more like a plan-of-action type of thing.”

“Is a California woman going to want to move to the wilds of North Carolina?” Michael asked, knowing full well that Caldwell House was in Raleigh’s tightly populated Oakwood historic district, not out in the boonies like Alton Mansion. Jo-Jo had demanded they drive by the place constantly when she was a tiny girl. She claimed it was her design “moose.”

“The woman’s already in North Carolina,” David spoke in a quieter voice than Michael had ever heard from him. “Michael, I’m not sure you’re going to like this, but I plan to marry Jo-Jo.”

Michael, barely past the surprise of David talking marriage, just laughed at that one. “Yeah, right!”

There was a pause. “I’m not kidding, Alton. I want to marry Jo-Jo – well, I guess I need to court her first — and I’d like your blessing. I know it’s a little weird, her being your sister and all, but it could be really good.”

“A little weird!” Michael’s voice grew louder and he sat up straight. “Have you lost your mind? I’ve seen Jo-Jo send guys running away screaming. I love my sister, but you trying to marry Jo-Jo would be like, like…”

He couldn’t think of a contest worthy of comparison.

“Like starting a tech business out of a dorm room?” David offered. “Like making it in Silicon Valley? Been there, done that. I’m not afraid of a challenge, Alton – or Jo-Jo’s right hook.”

Michael grimaced as he recalled the incident that provoked his friend’s last comment. David, an only child, and both the Alton kids had been fishing at David’s grandparents’ home. When 12-year-old David surprised 5-year-old Jo-Jo with a crawdad down the back of her shirt, she’d punched him so hard his nose bled for an hour. They’d all had to go home in disgrace – and with no fish.

“I don’t think she’s punching anyone these days, but I’m not sure she’s really changed that much,” Michael said.

As soon as he spoke the words, Michael realized that David hadn’t either. The boldness and relentlessness his friend had always shown were still in force — and that might actually be enough to bring this wild plan to pass. That thought made him suspicious. Jo-Jo could do a whole lot worse than David – who was basically a great guy even if the whole best-friend thing was a little weird. But, Michael didn’t want his baby sister being pursued like some kind of corporate merger.

“What made you decide this all of the sudden?”

David was slow to respond. “There’s nothing sudden about it,” he finally said. “I think I have always loved Jo-Jo. I just didn’t quite figure it all out until Jack’s wedding.”

Michael knew instantly what his friend was talking about. He remembered his mild surprise at seeing Jo-Jo and David deep in conversation at the Alton cousin’s reception, the actual dates who had accompanied them having drifted off to the dance floor together due to lack of attention. He’d just chalked it up at the time a mutual disinterest in their official companions. But, maybe there had been something more to it.

“Look, if you want to try, I’m not going to stand in your way,” Michael said slowly. “Just don’t tell me more than a brother wants to know. And, David, there’s one more thing.”

“Yes?”

“If you hurt my sister in any way, I will turn you into grits.”

Michael could hear David’s sigh of relief. He didn’t know, however, that his friend was already in Raleigh, sitting on the steps of his new home as he didn’t own an actual chair anywhere east of the Mississippi as of yet.

“Naturally, Alton. I wouldn’t expect it to be any other way.”

*****

Michael sat sprawled on the workshop floor for several minutes after the conversation had ended, another realization dawning. He rumpled his hair until it stood straight up in the front.

What was it exactly that he had texted Jo-Jo when the possibility of her marrying seemed as remote as a meteor strike? Had he actually suggested he’d do it, too? He checked the out box on his phone and confirmed that was exactly what he had done, the very kind of thing Jo-Jo really would grab hold of like a bull dog on a ham bone. She’d never let it go.

“Good Lord.” Michael wasn’t using God’s name in vain. It was a short prayer of desperation. It was a relief when Max snouted him in the face, eager for a walk.

Chapter 22

The dog was staring him down.

“What do you want, Max?” Michael asked, already knowing the answer to the question. He’d closed his workshop for the day and leashed Max for a downtown walk. But, clearly not happy with that, Max stood like his feet were somehow glued to the sidewalk. That was his way of communicating that he wanted a run on the beach.

Michael looked down at his very demanding dog with a tolerant smile and brushed the remaining wood chips from his work clothes. “Oh, all right. Maybe we can bum some dinner off Aunt Naomi.”

Max whipped the leash out of Michael’s hand with a series of excited jumps and headed straight for the SUV parked at the curb. He knew “all right,” “dinner” and “Aunt Naomi.” He’d won.

*****

Max leapt straight for the sand as soon as Michael opened the hatch. Michael didn’t even bother to tell Aunt Naomi he was there. He knew she’d see his vehicle parked in front of her house at some point and figure it out.

 “Go,” he yelled and began a walk-jog that would never have kept up with Max had the dog not been sporadically distracted by the joys of the surf. And, the joy of Maggie. Michael’s mouth actually dropped open at the beautiful picture she made, running swiftly toward them at the edge of the waves. Evidently, Max was impressed, too.

“Max! No!” was all Michael managed to get out before the giant dog had launched himself at his new friend, knocking her into the waves with an impressive splash. By the time Michael was at Maggie’s side and pulling her back onto her feet, Max was sitting quietly on the sand, giving the impression he’d never done an ungentlemanly thing in his life.

Michael glared at the dog. Max wagged and appeared to actually be smiling. He seemed quite pleased with himself, in fact, but that had to be Michael’s imagination.

“I am so sorry. Are you OK?” he asked Maggie, who still looked quite startled.

Then, Maggie started to laugh and pushed her dripping hair from her eyes. “Five brothers, Michael,” she said, trying in vain to brush the sand from her running gear. “I needed to cool off anyway.”

“Well, can we at least walk you home?”

“Sure, I’d like that.”

*****

It didn’t take long to reach the cottage, or for Maggie to invite him in for dinner. Michael lingered in the front yard, prolonging the thorough toweling he’d insisted on giving Max before the dog be allowed inside. He figured that would give Maggie enough time to clean up in privacy.

It did. When Michael finally came in the door, Maggie was already padding around the kitchen in pink flip-flops with poofy flowers at the toes. Her hair was in two loose braids whose ends had left damp spots on the back of her pink cotton dress. She looked 12. Good grief.

Then Maggie turned to meet his gaze and smiled. The cut of her dress was modest enough, but it did nothing to disguise the very womanly shape beneath it. OK, Michael thought, slowly releasing his breath. Clearly not 12. He suddenly wondered if dinner here was such a good idea.

“I already made chicken salad this afternoon and I have some bread from the bakery and some fruit,” Maggie said. “It’s picnic food, really. Would you like to eat out on the beach?”

“Absolutely,” Michael answered, rather too quickly to be entirely polite.

He walked into the living room while she assembled their picnic, anything to put a little more space between the two of them. His discomfort with his attraction to such a young woman was put on a back burner, however, when he saw the jumble of fabric bolts on the couch and two stacks of freshly sewn pillows piled up on the new pigeon carrier/coffee table.

“Whoa, you’ve been hard at work!”

“I have been,” Maggie yelled back from the kitchen.

These pillows were smaller and more colorful than the one she’d made for herself. But, they were embellished with equal care. Some had tightly spaced rows of tiny cream-colored buttons running along their edges. Others had sections of what looked to be antique lace woven across their fronts.

“What are you planning on doing with all these?”

“I’m not sure,” Maggie said. “Hannah mentioned selling them in her shop, too. What do you think? This is your arena, not mine.”

Michael put the pillow he had been examining back on the coffee table. What is that thing? The elaborate assembly of twigs and wire puzzled him. It didn’t look like any piece of furniture he’d ever seen. And, he’d seen plenty.

“Why don’t you try my shop and Hannah’s first,” he suggested, lowering his voice mid-sentence when he realized she had joined him in the living room. “Our clientele probably has some overlap, but not much. That would give you two outlets to test at once without having to make a major commitment like you would have to make if you work with Jo-Jo.”

“That would be wonderful,” Maggie said, actually bouncing on her toes like a kid begging for a lollipop. He looked away, still a bit uncomfortable being so near her.

“You just decide which ones you want me to take and we’ll figure out a price. I’ll take them to my shop tonight.”

*****

“This is great,” Michael said, tucking into a second sandwich. It was good Maggie had made several. Max had already bummed half of his first one.

They sat on an old quilt Maggie had found in the trunk of Miss Naomi’s car, both of them facing the lake where, again, they watched Max play in the surf.

“A girl could get used to this,” she said with a happy sigh. “I love the beach.”

Michael watched Maggie watching Max. The wind had loosened her braids and tendrils of hair were now dancing around her face. She was lightly tanned now and had a sprinkling of freckles across her nose that hadn’t been there when she’d first arrived in Waverly Shores. There was a peacefulness that hadn’t been there before either, he noticed.

“You look really happy,” he said, almost to himself.

Maggie turned to look at him, her mouth widening into a smile that spread to her entire face.

“I am happy, Michael. I really am.” She started to say something else then stopped. Maggie just gathered her knees against her chest and looked smilingly back out at the lake.

Unwilling to let her attention drift away, as he sensed it was, Michael impulsively told her about David’s phone call.

“You sound upset,” Maggie said when he had repeated much of the conversation to her. “You don’t think he’d be a good match for her?”

“I don’t know. He’s a good man, a godly man. I guess it’s strange because I’ve always considered him more of a brother than a friend. Of course, he’s not my brother and he’s certainly not Jo-Jo’s brother. But, I’d just never considered the possibility of them being together.”

He instantly remembered that Maggie had nearly married her brother’s so-called best friend. Considering how disastrously that had turned out didn’t make him feel any better.

“Marriage can really complicate things,” he finished up.

“That, I know,” Maggie said quietly and Michael instantly regretted sharing that last thought – at least in those words.

He reached for her hand but couldn’t quite look into her eyes. He, too, watched the surf.

“I wasn’t thinking about your situation,” he said, his voice now quiet, as well. This felt like the right time to share the rest of his story with her. He already knew so much of hers. It only seemed fair given that they were friends. He took a deep breath. “I was thinking about my own marriage.”

“You’re married?” Maggie asked, her hand instantly pulling away from him.

“No!” Michael answered immediately, gripping her fingers more tightly. He needed her touch. “I was married. My wife died.”

Maggie didn’t answer with the immediate, “I’m sorry,” that he usually got. She seemed stunned into silence rather. He gave her several minutes before he went on.

“Elena was a wonderful woman and I loved her very much,” he eventually said. “We’d only been married a few months when we found out she had pancreatic cancer. She was gone before our third anniversary. It’s been five years now.”

“Wow. I’m so sorry, Michael.” Maggie squeezed his hand in response and his fingers quickly interlaced with hers. “I had no idea.”

“When you love someone like that and make a commitment like that, it changes everything,” Michael continued. “When Elena died, I just couldn’t go on with the same life. Losing her somehow made me understand how unhappy I had been being CEO of Lewis-Alton. I’d been doing that practically since I’d been out of my MBA program. Running the company was my dad’s dream – and he did it happily until the day he died. It looks like it’s Jo-Jo’s dream, too. But, it was never mine. I want something a lot simpler.”

Neither of them spoke, they just held each other’s hand and watched the timeless lapping of the waves. It felt right when Maggie’s head nestled against his neck and shoulder like the space had been carved to fit her. It felt right when he released her hand to pull her even more firmly against his side by her waist.

“Michael?” He could feel the warmth of that single word through the thin fabric of his shirt.

“Hmmm?”

“Did loving Elena make your life better — even though you got hurt? Was loving her worth it?”

He hesitated even though he knew the answer.

“Yes.”

“You need to give Jo-Jo and David the same chance. You need to leave this in God’s hands and trust Him to take care of them both – no matter what.”

Michael kissed the top of Maggie’s head, smiling as the loose wisps of her hair tickled his face. That felt right, too.

“I think you’re a very wise woman, Miss Maggie.”

Then, he got up and took her back to her cottage before anything else had a chance to feel right.

*****

“No commission,” he said back at the cottage, which he’d been in a hurry to return to after the intimacy of their conversation. They’d agreed on a base price for the pillows and that he’d take all of this first lot and she’d make more for Hannah’s shop. “I’m just helping a friend.”

He saw her quick wince at his last comment and hoped she would let it go. He also hoped she wouldn’t make too much of the skin-tingling moment his lips brushed her cheek as he said goodnight. She got it now. At least he thought she did. Michael was attracted to her, but he wasn’t quite sure what he wanted. And, he had no idea what she wanted.

Maggie’s advice was good – for David and Jo-Jo and for the two of them — he decided on the long walk back to his car. He was going to try his best to put whatever this was with Maggie in God’s hands and trust Him to take care of them both.

Chapter 23

David smiled at Jo-Jo in pure devilry. No one else had noticed the fraction-of-a-second lapse of attention she’d had when he’d quietly entered the back of the Lewis-Alton Company conference room and sat down. Her senior staff, intent on the sales projections she was presenting, saw only the sharply honed managerial skills to which they were accustomed. She took no further notice of him until the meeting was over and the others had all filed back to their workplaces.

Then, she became the Jo-Jo only a handful of people really knew.

“David Parker!” she said, laughing in pleasure at the sight of him. “I can’t imagine what Miss Becky was thinking of, letting you in here during the middle of a meeting. Why didn’t you let me know you were in Raleigh?”

Jo-Jo longed to rush into his arms the way she would have during her childhood days, her college days or really any of the days that had come before that night at Jack’s wedding. They had been friends forever. But, now, everything was different. She just stood at the end of the table not knowing quite what to do.

It was David who bridged the distance between them, drawing her into his arms and kissing her warmly on the cheek. “Very impressive, Johanna,” he said, still holding her closely. “You’ve become quite the businesswoman.”

Jo-Jo smiled. She liked the career compliment. It meant a lot coming from a man who certainly knew his stuff in the corporate world. But, she was more intrigued by his unprecedented use of her given name. She instantly liked it. No one but daddy and Grandmother Alton ever called her anything but Jo-Jo or Miss Alton. She smiled up at him in open curiosity and felt David’s hands tighten a bit at her waist. But, there was no explanation. He let her go and stepped back from her to sit casually on the end of the boardroom table.

“I have a proposition for you,” he said, smiling no doubt at the sudden widening of Jo-Jo’s eyes. “I would like you to decorate my house.”

“Your house is already amazing, David,” Jo-Jo said quickly, having been to his California home several times, with and without Michael, over the years.

“Not that house. I sold it. My new home — I bought Caldwell House. I’m coming home.”

It took only a heartbeat for his news to register. “You’re coming home!” Jo-Jo squealed, suddenly in his arms again. “And, to Caldwell House! I love that place. I always wanted to live there when I was a little girl.”

“I remember, Johanna,” David said, pulling her closer with one hand against the small of her back. “That’s why I know you’d be exactly the one to decorate it. You love it and that would show.”

“You mean you want me, personally, to do the design?” Jo-Jo gasped. “I don’t really do that any more, David. There isn’t any time.” She gestured around the room that represented the administrative duties that now ruled her life 24-7.

“I know,” David said with another broad smile. “But would you? For me?”

Jo-Jo looked into David’s face in uncharacteristic confusion. If it had been anyone else, the answer would have been an abrupt “no.” Yet, the idea of interrupting her life to create a beautiful home for this man was undeniably tempting. She wavered.

“I need to think about it.”

“How long do you need?”

“Until tomorrow?” Jo-Jo mentally upbraided herself both for promising such a quick response and for answering with a questioning lilt to her voice. CEO’s don’t sound unsure, ever. She knew better.

“That sounds wonderful. You can tell me at dinner.”

“Yes, at dinner,” Jo-Jo said. The words somehow came out as a sigh.

David kissed her cheek again before he left. Jo-Jo watched the door that closed behind him for the longest time, wondering what on earth she was going to do.

*****

The question plagued her all through the afternoon, although she soldiered on through more meetings, a conference call and the examination of yet another stack of contracts with various suppliers. She always preferred to do the latter with Michael. He was so familiar with the business – still serving on the company board – that it reduced the time involved dramatically.

Still undecided after a quick solo dinner and a brisk walk through the downtown neighborhood where her condo was located, she curled up on her couch and finally realized what she needed — a good talk with a girlfriend. But, who? She didn’t want anyone in Raleigh in on this one.

She could try Aunt Naomi. The woman always had uncanny advice. But, that still seemed a little too close to home. Michael might find out something. She didn’t want that. At least not yet.

“Maggie!” Jo-Jo thought in a burst of inspiration. “She doesn’t know David at all. She’d be perfect.”

*****

Maggie seemed delighted to hear Jo-Jo’s voice. “How are things way down South?”

“High summer here,” Jo-Jo said. “It’s the time of year to stay indoors and enjoy the wonders of air conditioning.”

Maggie laughed. “The only air conditioning I have is the breeze off the lake and screens on the windows.”

“Wish I could be there.” Jo-Jo really would have liked to have been there – if David hadn’t been here. That thought pushed Jo-Jo to get to the point. “I have a problem, Maggie, and I was hoping to get your opinion. It’s about a man.”

“Isn’t it always?” Maggie laughed. “OK. I’ve put down my magazine and I’m sitting up straight like my mom always said I should. Tell me more.”

As Jo-Jo described her long-standing crush on a certain childhood friend developing into something more, Maggie made funny sputtering sounds, but Jo-Jo kept going with all the energy of a middle-school cheerleader.

“David came to my office today and asked me to decorate his house. Me, personally. I don’t know if I should do it. It would mean taking a couple of weeks away from the office – which I probably should do anyway. I haven’t had any time off forever.”

There was a long pause. “Maggie, are you still there?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m here,” Maggie said slowly. “I guess there’s only one question that really matters. Do you want to do it?”

Jo-Jo hesitated. “Yes.”

“Then, do it!”

Jo-Jo could almost feel energy vibrating through the phone. “I will!”

*****

There wasn’t time to change, but Jo-Jo had freshened her hair and make-up and ditched the all-business jacket she’d worn all day. It must have been enough, she thought hopefully as she warmed under David’s open appreciation of her silk cream-colored top and a cocoa skirt that flared into a trumpet hemline at her knees. In her highest heels tonight, she met David nose to nose and was pleased when his greeting went from an embrace to a kiss that quickly grazed her cheek and ear.

“Where are we headed?” she asked.

“I should really take you somewhere where you can be more fully appreciated,” he said, ushering her into the car he had somehow managed to park right outside her office doors. “But, I had something quieter in mind.”

“Quiet is nice,” Jo-Jo said, meaning it. It had been a long and very hectic day.

They said little as he drove through the downtown. She appreciated it that David understood as few other people would how much she needed some time to let go of the stress of the day. Her eyes actually drifted shut as he drove.

“We’re here,” he said, pulling up in front of the home in question. Her eyes now wide open, she was entranced. Every window of Caldwell House shone brightly against the dusk.

“Not fair,” she laughed, but she eagerly climbed the steps to the broad entry, set off by no less than six massive stone pillars.

David opened the doors and led her into the chandeliered dazzle of the entry hall.

“Oh, David,” Jo-Jo gasped, taking in the broad space that anchored rooms and halls to each side of the grand staircase in its middle. “It’s even more beautiful than I had imagined.”

“Very beautiful,” David said, paying no attention to the home’s grandeur whatsoever. Jo-Jo missed his homage, her heels already clicking across the white marble expanse to explore the generous room to the left.

“This has mostly been used as a formal living room,” he explained. “But, it’s been cleared a few times to serve as a ballroom, according to Miss Caldwell.

Jo-Jo admired the parquet flooring and the banks of French doors that looked out toward a small side yard. She could imagine the wrought-iron fenced garden that lay beyond them as she had driven by the home many, many times in her life. The inside, however, was all new to her. Old Miss Caldwell seldom entertained – although she had certainly maintained, Jo-Jo noted with pleasure.

She practically skipped through the other rooms of the first floor. There was a wonderfully modern kitchen with an adjoining mud room and pantry. There was a large dining room, a cozy family room, two guest baths and a closet large enough to house the outerwear of both family and a squadron of guests.

The upstairs didn’t disappoint, either.

“This will be my office,” David said of a room that sat alone at the end of the first stairway landing. Jo-Jo peeped through the cut-glass door into the richly paneled room, her mind spinning with possibilities.

“There are six bedrooms and four baths,” he went on, leading her up one of the two sets of steps that flanked the main one once it reached the landing. He gestured to the matching rows of doors that lined both sides of the open space beyond them. “I thought we could start with just the master bedroom and one guest bedroom, on this floor, and work on the other ones later.”

“Hmmmm,” Jo-Jo said, not quite ready to admit she was already committed to the project. Yet, she was reluctant to stop exploring the upstairs to return to the kitchen as he suggested.

Jo-Jo had noticed the small card table covered with an array of Chinese take-out boxes there on their first time through, but had been too busy looking at the next room and the next to really pay attention. Now, back in the kitchen in spite of herself, she laughed at the incongruity of the blue plastic table in such an elegant setting.

“See how much I need you, Johanna?” David asked, also laughing.

“OK, David,” she said, as he assisted her onto a somewhat rickety folding chair. “I’ll do it. But, I warn you, we’ve only got two weeks. You have no idea how hard we’ll have to work.”

“It’s a deal,” David said, blissfully unaware that she was in no way exaggerating.

Chapter 24

“Maggie,” Jo-Jo nearly yelled into the phone ridiculously early the next morning. “Do you suppose you could whip up a whole pile of pillows in red – really quickly, like ready to ship by the weekend?”     

David had given her free reign with the design last night. “Just keep it comfortable,” was his only request, other than that he planned to design his office by himself. “I don’t want to feel like I’m in a museum,” he’d also said.                   

“I gather you’re doing the house,” Maggie said, calculating how fast she could turn out a dozen or so pillows. “What kind of style are we talking about?”

Jo-Jo began to describe a small family room she planned to design with a mild nod to San Francisco.

“It’s a private part of the house and I think David would enjoy seeing that part of his life mixed in with his life here,” Jo-Jo said. “It will be very cozy and casual. I’m thinking slip-covered couches and chairs – kind of like at your cottage, but with denim instead of white cotton since the whole jeans thing all started in California. That’s where I need your red pillows all over the place.

“There’ll be some cushioned ottomans, and lots of black-and-white photos of his family and friends all over the place. I already have a giant, abstract print of the Golden Gate Bridge for over the fireplace.”

Maggie smiled at Jo-Jo’s enthusiasm. “I’ll start working on the pillows today,” she promised. “Just keep letting me know how things are going – both things, I mean.”

“I will,” Jo-Jo laughed. “Oh, there’s David now. We’re going down to the showroom to pick out some basic furniture pieces this morning. Gotta go.”

Maggie had barely sat her phone down on the kitchen table when it rang again. This time it was Michael, who was nearly as peppy as Jo-Jo. Maggie, who still hadn’t had the coffee she needed to be worth much of anything at this point in the day, wondered if all the Altons were this, well, wired in the morning.

“Can you come down to my shop this morning?” he asked. He wanted her to see what he’d done with the pillows.

Coffee. Now.

“Is an hour OK?” she asked. It was.

Maggie quickly showered and let her hair air dry while she ate a simple breakfast of grainy toast, peanut butter and sliced bananas. She tossed her robe aside and slipped on another of her floaty beach dresses, this one a teal linen that made her eyes glow almost turquoise. Sandals, a quick finger combing of her now-dried hair and a smear of salmon lip gloss and she was off.

Almost. She ran back into the cottage for her purse and keys. Eight a.m. really was too early for normal people to be quite so active. No wonder she’d always worked late-night news.

She was still slightly out of breath when she walked into Michael’s shop, sending another chain of bells like those she remembered from his workshop into action. Michael was instantly by her side and locking the door behind her.

“We don’t open until 11,” he explained at her questioning look. He redirected her attention to a cabinet whose doors stood open to display several of her pillows, arranged in neat rows on the deep shelves. Seeing their color against the dark wood reminded her of a box of luxury chocolates. She smiled her approval.

“It’s wonderful, Michael,” she said, touching his arm softly. “Thank you, again.”

“We don’t get that much shop traffic except during high tourist season,” Michael said. “A lot of my work sells over the Internet. Is it OK if I put photos of your pillows on my website, too?”

“More than OK. That would be great.”

The pillow matter settled, Michael began to show Maggie around his storefront. She was amazed at the variety of cabinets – for cabinets were the bulk of what he made. There were tall armoires that could be used for storing clothes or hiding big electronics. There were cabinets like the ones her pillows were now tucked into. Those all had an abundance of shelves and nooks hidden inside. There were glass-fronted china cabinets and long buffets. There were short, broad cabinets that Maggie could imagine in an entryway.

Some of the furniture was stained dark. Some was blonde. Some was even painted. But it was all carved. Every piece had at least one panel of deep-relief carving. Maggie ran her fingers over one inset of flowers and leaves. It was so delicate. She investigated other pieces to find small birds, stars, leaves all hidden in the wood.

“Michael,” she said in surprise. “You’re as much a sculptor as you are a carpenter. This is amazing.”

“I’m really glad you like it,” he replied quietly. “This is what I love doing, Maggie. This is who God made me to be and this is the life that I want. I’m just very grateful to have the opportunity to make art and actually make a living, or at least part of a living. I have the rental properties at the beach, too.

“I need to show you something else,” he continued, taking her hand and leading her through a small door at the back of the showroom. They were back in his workroom, where pieces in various stages of completion were propped up on tables and against walls. Maggie noticed the armoire he had hidden her behind was nowhere to be seen.

Michael pointed out another massive cabinet, however. This one was at least eight feet wide and nearly that tall – and was finished in translucent white wash. He opened three panels loaded with fern engravings on the front to show her row after row of shelves and cubbies.

“You need this at the cottage for your pillow stuff,” he said out of nowhere.

“I don’t know,” Maggie stammered. She’d seen the discreet price tags during her tour of the shop. Michael’s work was expensive. Her TV salary was good. Quite good. But, she was skeptical that it would continue one minute past the Dec. 31 end of her contract. If it lasted that long.

“I’m not trying to sell it to you,” Michael said, realizing she had misunderstood him. “It’s a furnished cottage. I’m just furnishing it a little more. You’re going to need this for your business.”

My business.

“Michael, you don’t think I’m going back to the TV station, do you?” Maggie asked, looking straight into his eyes. She’d already told him her concerns about the ongoing lack of contact with the TV station – even her work friends had disappeared into the ether.

She could see him hesitate, but knew he would tell her the truth.

“I don’t think so.”

“I don’t, either,” Maggie said with surprising calm. She took a deep breath. “So … on behalf of the cottage and my fledgling business, I accept your generous loan of start-up furniture. I just don’t think I can fit it in the Cooper.”

Michael laughed. “You don’t have to. I made it so the whole thing breaks down. I can drive it over right now and set it up if you want me to. I just can’t stay long. I have another contract I’m working on.”

“That would be excellent, Michael. Thank you.” Maggie rose up on her sandal-clad tiptoes and kissed Michael on the cheek this time. “You have been the most wonderful friend to me that I can imagine.”

Chapter 25

Maggie surveyed the loaded cabinet with satisfaction. Nearly everything she had for her pillow making fit neatly inside. There were just a few of the fabric bolts left out. She imagined them sticking out of a giant floor basket like a bouquet of flowers at one end of the cabinet. It wouldn’t hurt to have a few more storage baskets on top of the cabinet, as well, she thought, realizing she’d also need a small step ladder to reach them.

First, she needed to get the red fabric for Jo-Jo’s special order, however. She had promised her friend she’d start today. Maggie was sure she could get at least some of it in Michigan City, but had another idea of where she could get the rest. She’d need Hannah’s help again.

Maggie got back in the car and headed for The Station Shoppe. After picking out a giant basket made out of nautical rope for the fabric bolts and several smaller, plainer containers for atop the new cabinet, she asked Hannah where she could find a thrift store and explained her plan to source fabric for her first pillow order.

“My Grammy Kate used to take old wool sweaters and turn them into the most beautiful stuffed animals,” Maggie explained. “I’m hoping I can find all sorts of really large sweaters in red and use them for pillows instead.”

Hannah was delighted with the idea and gave Maggie directions to a site that wasn’t far from the big-box store that she needed to hit anyway. Within a couple of hours, Maggie was back at the cottage with a ridiculously large bundle of wool sweaters in various shades of red, a bolt of thick red cotton whose dye label claimed it would not run or fade, bag after bag of stuffing, and a step ladder.

“I’m in business,” Maggie said to herself in pleasure. “These pillows are going to be gorgeous.”

She threw all the sweaters into the washing machine, turned the temperature to hot wash and cold rinse and got busy cutting the cotton into four large pieces. She used those pieces to make two pillows that were large, square and unadorned – they’d serve as a foil for the fancier pieces — before the washing cycle was up. She flipped the sweaters inside out, stretched them out on the deck and let the sun do its work. She shuddered a bit at the extreme laundering and was glad she wasn’t expecting to actually wear the results.

Then Maggie began to cut more of the cotton into smaller squares and long strips; set those aside and rustled up a quick meal. By the time she was done, the sweaters had dried into a smooth felted wool that she cut into similar shapes as the cotton.

Maggie’s sewing machine practically smoked as she rapidly turned the shapes into pieced pillow fronts that were somehow reminiscent of quilts – or maybe beach towels. Cozy, soft to the touch, yet quite modern looking. Larger squares of the red cotton made simple backs for the pieced fronts. The bags of stuffing disappeared into the cases, which were just as quickly sewn shut.

“Hemmed in,” Maggie remembered with a burst of happiness, which gave her another idea. She cut the last of the felted sweaters into a large heart shape. There was enough for a felted back, as well.

Zip, zip went the machine. Maggie’s hands sewed creamy shell buttons around the heart’s edge and the stuffing went in. The “I left my heart in San Francisco” pillow was born.

“I love it,” Maggie said.

She tore her own pillows off the couch and arranged Jo-Jo’s there, marveling at how “red” could range from deep russet to just shy of rose and still look so good in a grouping. Maggie used her phone to snap several photos of the arrangement and shot one of the heart pillow on its own before e-mailing them to Jo-Jo with a note that she’d ship them as soon as she had an address.

Oops, she thought, realizing it was midnight. She hadn’t eaten since that quick afternoon meal. Maybe she would have a snack before she went to bed. Clean up could wait until morning.

*****

Jo-Jo’s reply and the needed address came at 6 a.m. Maggie noted when she finally woke sometime around 10. Early bird Altons!

“Absolutely perfect,” Jo-Jo had texted. “Just send me your bill.”

Chapter 26

My bill.

OK, this part of doing business was really outside Maggie’s arena. Michael had pretty much set the prices on the pillows for his shop by himself.

Maggie hadn’t done any direct sales since she’d run a lemonade stand one summer when she was a kid. And, that didn’t really count. Her brothers and their friends – including Stephen — had stood around her little table in a boisterous cluster until they’d drunk up most of it. And, to her recollection, none of them had actually paid her. Imagine that.

Unwilling to distract Michael from his own deadline work, she decided to turn to Miss Naomi for help – right after she boxed up the pillows and shipped them to David’s new home, along with a promise of a forthcoming bill.

*****

“I’d be delighted,” Miss Naomi said without hesitation when Maggie called. The woman came over to the cottage as soon as she was done at Michael’s shop that afternoon and they began with a list of what Maggie would need.

“You should be able to keep it fairly simple, at least at first,” Miss Naomi said. “Your kitchen is a pretty good workspace. And, Michael’s cabinet should provide plenty of storage for now. But, you will need a small desk, a filing cabinet and at least a laptop computer. You could probably fit all those in the kitchen.”

Just when Maggie was beginning to digest all of this, Miss Naomi hit her with another issue she hadn’t even considered.

“You’ll need a business license, too,” Miss Naomi said. “That shouldn’t be a problem, since you’re technically outside the city limits.”

A business license, Maggie thought with a bit of a shudder. A month ago, she didn’t even have a driver’s license. Wow, her life was changing fast.

Since Maggie as of yet had no Internet service at the cottage other than through her phone, the women decided to reconvene their first business meeting at Miss Naomi’s house. It turned out she could apply for her business license on-line. After some discussion, Maggie had typed in “Dune Girl” as her business name, which made Miss Naomi laugh in delight.

“I knew you weren’t a city girl at heart,” she said.

“It’s done,” she told Miss Naomi about a half hour later as she finally clicked the “send” button on the application. “That wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be.”

“It’s really not,” Miss Naomi said. “The sales and income taxes can be a little tricky, but Michael and I can help you until you get the hang of it.”

Maggie swallowed down a fresh bout of nervousness at the mention of taxes and the detailed recommendations concerning purchasing, pricing and billing that had followed. She’d done deadline reporting. She’d delved into the nastiest of news on a regular basis. Surely, she could make and sell a few pillows – at least until she figured out what else she might like to do to make a living.

“You might as well stay for dinner,” Miss Naomi finally said, watching as Maggie visibly relaxed. She seemed to understand her young friend had clearly had as much Business 101 as she could take in one day. “It’s not much. I’m just making some salmon cakes and some ranch fries, but you’re welcome to it.”

*****

Miss Naomi had understated the dinner offerings, although they were surely enhanced by the fact they were eaten on the deck, overlooking the lake.

The salmon cakes turned out to be loaded with bits of red onion, red peppers, corn and fresh rosemary from Miss Naomi’s herb garden, which spilled out of terraced boxes that fronted of the deck. The ranch fries were actually coin shaped instead of wedges and they were baked to a golden brown that had a delightful crunch, especially when dipped in the shallow bowl of balsamic vinegar Miss Naomi poured for each of them. All that, plus a salad and a bowlful of fresh berries with whipped cream for dessert and Maggie wasn’t sure how the meal could have been topped.

“You’re a wonderful cook, Miss Naomi,” Maggie said with a happy sigh when they were done. She leaned back into her orange Adirondack chair and decided to make Miss Naomi some orange pillows as soon as possible. The woman certainly loved the vibrant color.

“It’s nice to have someone to cook for,” Miss Naomi replied. “I still miss cooking for Daniel. Sometimes I forget he’s gone and I put out two plates.”

“How long were you guys married?”

“More than 50 years. It’s hard to let go after that long, but I’m looking forward to seeing him again in heaven someday.”

“I want to see my Grammy Kate there,” Maggie said, wondering where that thought came from as soon as the words left her mouth.

“Was she a believer?” Miss Naomi asked softly.

“What do you mean?”

“Did she have Jesus in her heart?”

“Oh. Was she a Christian, like you and Michael and Hannah? Yes, she was. She went to church every day, in fact. She really loved God. But, I didn’t understand it very much then.” Maggie paused. “I’m not sure I really understand it now, but I think I’m a believer, too. I prayed and asked Jesus to do that a couple of nights ago.”

Maggie, looking out the lake in shyness over sharing her story, didn’t see the look of surprise and then the wide smile that sprang to Miss Naomi’s lips. But, she could hear the warmth in the older woman’s voice when she spoke.

“That’s wonderful, baby,” Miss Naomi said. “It’s the most important decision you’ll ever make.”

“I may know even less about being a Christian than I know about running a business,” Maggie admitted with a wry grin. “My friends and family back in Chicago would certainly tell you that. I’m not sure you would feel quite so friendly toward me if you really knew what kind of person I’ve been.”

I’m not so sure how Michael would feel, either, Maggie thought sadly.

Miss Naomi patted Maggie’s hand and surprised the young woman with a laugh.

“It’s not what you were, Maggie, or what I was, for that matter,” she said, speaking as if she might know by experience that God’s forgiveness is needed by all. “It’s who you are now — in Christ. Have you ever heard of John 3:16?”

“Oh, I know that one! Grammy Kate made me memorize it: ‘For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life,’ ” Maggie recited, amazed that she could remember something she hadn’t heard for so many years.

“That’s the one, and there’s another important verse that comes right after it,” Miss Naomi said. “John was one of the 12 disciples. He worked with Jesus every day for three years and his gospel tells a lot about what Jesus said and how He thought. That’s the reason it’s my favorite book of the Bible. Anyway, in verse 17, John records Jesus as saying that God didn’t send Jesus to condemn us, just save us.”

Tears sprang to Maggie’s eyes yet again. It had been wonderful to know that God knew her and loved her anyway. But, it was downright amazing to hear that God wasn’t condemning her – for anything!

“Maggie, can I pray for you?”

Maggie sniffled a “yes.” She wondered if Miss Naomi would pray like Michael had on the day they met. And, she pretty much did. Miss Naomi held Maggie’s hand and began to speak to God as if He were sitting right there on the deck with them.

“Father God, thank you so much for loving Maggie and making her your very own daughter. I ask you to help her to learn more about you so that she can grow to be everything that you want her to be. We ask this in Jesus’s name. Amen.”

Maggie hugged Miss Naomi as hard as she dared when the woman finished praying. She might not know what she was doing, but she was both in business and “in Christ” to use Miss Naomi’s words. And, she liked it.

Chapter 27

Michael sneaked up on her again, coming into the sanctuary somewhat later than she and Miss Naomi because of Sunday School. Maggie hadn’t tried joining a class yet. “Good morning, Dune Girl,” he whispered into her ear before the current song was even done. His lips brushed her skin and hair.

Maggie looked up at him in surprise. Miss Naomi had clearly shared more than a business update with him. She returned his smile and completely lost track of the music. She was similarly distracted when the pastor announced a new series of sermons on love. He read from 1 Corinthians 13, which Michael located for the two of them in his new Bible after he sat it between them.

“Love is patient,” Maggie read the words along with the pastor before her thoughts completely left the sanctuary and began to bounce between Stephen and Michael.

On the Stephen side, Maggie cringed. There had been nothing patient about their so-called love. One minute, he had been her brother’s friend now suddenly paying attention to her instead. It seemed like the next minute, he was her everything. And – she admitted now — even in the full flush of romance, she’d had a gnawing guilt about it.

She’d known it wasn’t right – Grammy Kate had taught her that much. But, she had forged ahead. The same way she’d done so many other wrong things — on the job, out with friends and on and on.

And, now there was Michael – wonderful, gentle, honorable Michael — whom she could never imagine pressuring anyone the way Stephen had her. Maggie turned slightly to look at the side of Michael’s face. Jesus might not condemn her for the many wrong things she’d done. She believed what the Bible said about that. But, Michael surely would. The guilt was overwhelming. This man deserved so much better — even in a friend.

Michael turned to meet Maggie’s gaze. It was clear he was disturbed, so disturbed that he went so far as to put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a gentle sideways hug right there in the sanctuary. Maggie knew him well enough now to know this was highly unusual. “It’s OK, Miss Maggie,” he whispered.

Maggie shook her head before she turned back to face the front of the church. It’s not OK. She didn’t hear another word Pastor Bob said.

*****

It was good Michael had such a big order coming up, Maggie thought as the sermon wound to a close. It would make it easier to stay away from him — at least for the next few days. After a quick goodbye to both Altons, she fled the church and headed home to begin a frenzy of pillow making without even stopping for lunch.

By early evening, there were a half dozen specimens. Each one was either a solid front of white eyelet or a patchwork of denim pieces — both varieties set aflame with bits of orange silk from the scrap collection Maggie had found at Shipsewana. Inspired by Michael’s cabinets, Maggie shaped some of the scraps to look like birds. Some were leaves, still others were circles. Maggie had hand sewn the scraps on with bold “X’s” made of navy blue embroidery floss. The pillows were very bold and modern, yet rustic at the same time.

“Six o’clock. Miss Naomi probably hasn’t even started dinner yet,” Maggie said to herself after a quick check of her watch. She loaded the pillows into a couple of garbage bags to keep them clean and shoved the lot into the tiny backseat of her car, unable to resist giving them to her friend immediately.

She regretted the impulse as soon as she pulled in front of Miss Naomi’s house, however. Michael’s SUV was already there and she was soon being hailed from the deck, where the two Altons and Max sat enjoying the lake.

“So, that’s why you took off so quickly after church,” Michael said, peeking inside the bags as he unloaded them from the Cooper. He’d put Max inside the house before he’d come down the steps – no doubt so the giant dog wouldn’t be tempted to try any of his new tricks again. “These are great. Aunt Naomi will love them.”

And she did. After a flurry of “thank you’s,” Miss Naomi took the pillows into her living room and began the enjoyable task of interspersing them with the solid orange pillows already there.

“Have you had dinner yet?” Michael asked with a grin, leaning casually against the deck railing. “I’m grilling. I guess I can do more than omelets and pancakes after all.”

Maggie looked away from him and told a very un-Christian lie. “I was planning on making some more pillows tonight for The Station Shoppe.”

“Oh, OK,” Michael said, sounding disappointed. “Duty calls, I guess. I was just hoping…”

Maggie didn’t want to hear what Michael was hoping. She just couldn’t take it anymore. She ran down the deck steps to her car and drove off without even a goodbye, condemning herself all the way home for engaging in such an impulsive and childish act.

She sat in her car in front of the cottage. There wasn’t any point in trying to go inside unless she wanted to add a door-slamming scene to her tantrum. She knew Michael well enough to be certain he was right behind her.

Chapter 28

He was right behind her. Michael walked to her car door and opened it. He loomed over her for at least a minute, trying to decide what to do, before he summarily pulled her out by the hand, marched her around to the passenger seat of her car and crammed himself into the driver’s seat.

“Let’s go for a drive.”

 “I didn’t say I wanted to go,” she protested mildly as he pulled away from the curb.

Michael just looked at her. “Buckle up.”

Maggie complied, but turned away from him to look stonily out the window as they left the beach and headed north onto the interstate. They were almost to the Michigan state line before Michael spoke again. “All right, what’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

“Baloney. Did I do something to upset you?”

“No, you haven’t done anything wrong,” Maggie said, sighing deeply. “That’s kind of the problem.”

Michael pulled off the interstate and drove until he found a narrow road between two tall fields of corn where it was safe to park. He twisted sideways in his seat to face her, no easy feat in the Cooper.

“And?”

“I have, Michael,” Maggie cried, unleashing a torrent of words. “I’ve done so many things wrong I can’t even begin to count. I’ve been an absolute terror as a reporter. You have no idea. I’ve done good work, but I’ve also lied to get information I wanted. I’ve stolen other people’s stories right out from under them. I’ve … oh, you name it. It wasn’t nice. I wasn’t nice.

“And, Miss Naomi said Jesus doesn’t condemn me for any of those things now that I’m a Christian — and I pretty much believe her,” she continued. “But, your family is so perfect, Michael. It’s like you’re from another, way-better planet than where I come from. I’ll never be perfect like that. And, you, especially, have been so good to me and I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve to be your friend.”

Michael was stunned into silence. He ruffled one hand through his hair in a frenzied motion as he tried to form a coherent thought. “Wow,” he finally said. “I didn’t realize the devil worked that fast.”

“What?”

“You’re a baby Christian, Maggie, and you have a very real enemy who hates that. He’s the one who’s accusing you of all this. I’m not. Aunt Naomi isn’t. No one is.”

“But, you don’t know …”

“I probably know more than you think.” Michael said softly, turning her face toward his with his fingers. “Look, I can’t say anything you did or didn’t do before you were a Christian was OK. That’s between you and God — and what Jesus did is plenty big enough to take care of all of it.

“But, I can say that I get it. I get it. Miss Maggie. Don’t let the devil beat you up over your past. We all have one — one way or another, Maggie. That’s why we need Jesus. We’re sinners.”

Maggie sniffled, but didn’t look at him.

“You’re a new creation now – there’s no condemnation, from God or from me.”

“No condemnation?” she peeped.

“Not now. Not ever, Miss Maggie.”

One tear broke free. Michael wiped it from her cheek with his finger and did the best he could to hold her given their location. Stupid, tiny car. He nearly impaled himself on the gearshift trying and failing to kiss her forehead. He managed to settle back into his seat without further injury and attempted, somewhat lamely, to lighten the mood.

“And, since you never gave me the chance to say it earlier today — welcome to my planet, Miss Maggie.”

*****

Michael gave her no opportunity to feel embarrassed over their conversation. He quickly located a lakeside diner in nearby New Buffalo and they had a casual dinner of burgers, fries and chocolate shakes on its broad deck, tossing their leftovers to some very enthusiastic gulls.

Even driving home, he kept her engaged in pleasant conversation about nothing in particular until her phone rang.

“It’s my brother,” Maggie said.

“I don’t mind, if you don’t.”

Maggie smiled as she answered Ronan’s call. Michael was pleased both that a family member was in contact with her and that she felt comfortable in his own company once again.

“I’m with a friend. We just had dinner,” Maggie said. “I miss you, too, Ronan. Of course, I’ll be there.” Another pause while Ronan spoke. “I love you, too.”

Michael was happy to see Maggie nearly glow with happiness, but had to admit he didn’t like the sound of her leaving Waverly Shores anytime soon. “Headed home?” he couldn’t help but ask when she ended the call.

“Just for a party. It’s my dad’s birthday. Wow, I haven’t seen my family in close to two months. I don’t think I’d hardly gone two days without seeing one of them before this summer.”

“Are you nervous?”

“A little, but I’m sure it will be OK,” Maggie said. She no doubt meant her words to be courageous. He heard the sheer doubt.

“Michael?”

“Hmmm?”

“Will you go with me — for moral support?”

“Absolutely,” Michael said, surprised at how much he suddenly wanted to.

Chapter 29

Johanna Alton was clearly stronger than she looked. Clad in trainers and yoga clothes, all five-foot-nine of her wiry self was hauling kitchen chairs off the back of a Lewis-Alton Company truck alongside the workers she had commandeered for this particular side project. Being a CEO of a furniture company can come in handy sometimes, David thought, as he stepped back and watched her in amazement for a moment as she sprinted up the loading ramp for yet another chair before he entered the fray himself.

Declaring the kitchen her “HQ” for the rest of the “AM,” Jo-Jo gave the workers a map of the house that corresponded to an inventory of what was being delivered. David watched as cabinets, dressers, wing-back chairs and a sleigh bed were spirited off down various hallways and up the stairs of Caldwell House.

“Sweetheart, have you ever thought of working for FEMA?” he finally asked in wonder.

“What are you talking about?” Jo-Jo was busy wiping down eight glossy black Windsor chairs that now surrounded a bleached-wood farm table. Before David could stop her, she was barefoot and on top of the table, adjusting the height of three industrial-style pendant lights hanging above it.

“What are you doing?” he asked, moving quickly to support her legs with his hands while she worked.

“Being a decorator,” she said, looking down into his face with a quick smile before she hauled a tiny measuring tape out of her hoodie pocket and made sure the lights lined up just so. “I’d forgotten how much fun it is.”

 He began to agree that decorating was fun about the time she slid into his arms as she got down from the tabletop. She touched her forehead to his chin for a delicious moment. But, she was too off to the races to linger there.

“Have you ever put up track lighting before?” she asked instead. He had. Good grief, he could rewire the whole house if he had to for that matter. She pointed to several long boxes, a bucket full of tools and some pencil marks on the ceiling in front of the kitchen sink. “Go.”

Then, she turned her back on him to start rummaging through bags of kitchen essentials that she was already putting into drawers and cabinets. David had gotten rid of pretty much everything except his clothes and office stuff when he’d sold his home in San Francisco. He didn’t even have a fork in the house until today.

David picked up a drill and got to work.

“Do all your clients need to know how to use power tools?” he asked her a good half hour later.

“I don’t have any clients.” Now, she was stacking the classic white stoneware he’d taken a liking to into glass-fronted cabinets.

He was off the step ladder and turning her around to face him. There was a smudge of dust on her nose. He brushed it off with his fingers. “No clients, huh?” he challenged her. “What am I, Johanna?”

Jo-Jo was obviously intrigued by his question, but her gaze dropped almost modestly to his chin. “Not a client,” she said quietly. David smiled and kissed the spot on her nose where the smudge had been. He headed back up the step ladder before she could respond. Now, Jo-Jo stood watching him in amazement.

*****

By 5 p.m., Caldwell House had a fully functioning kitchen and master bedroom suite in addition to the office David had gotten running and decorated reasonably well all on his own. He had worked into the wee hours of the morning to do that. Jo-Jo had told him over lunch that the family room was well on its way to full usability, as well, complete with Maggie’s “way-cool” pillows.

David could sleep here tonight, instead of at the hotel where he’d been staying. He could have breakfast at his own table in the morning.

There was a cost to this level of doneness, of course. Jo-Jo was yawning when he peeked around the door into the master bedroom. He yawned himself as he eyed the new chocolate-colored sleigh bed, which she had just finished covering with all variety of creamy cotton linens and a cable-knit throw. He briefly considered collapsing there in exhaustion. But, it wasn’t to be. She finally noticed him.

“David!” she peeped in surprise, actually jumping a little. She yawned again. “I didn’t hear you on the stairs.”

He briefly considered collapsing on the bed with her in his arms. As if a lifetime of Sunday school wasn’t enough to jettison that possibility, Michael’s “I’ll turn you into grits,” was somehow echoing in his brain. “The pizza’s here,” David said with sudden resolve. “Let’s take a break.”

Yawning or not, she had more pep than he did, practically galloping down the stairs to join him in the kitchen. David opened the pizza box and handing her a large slice undergirded only with a paper towel.

“Don’t you want to use your stoneware?” she asked.

“I don’t want to do dishes, do you?”

She didn’t. They plopped down onto the chairs she had hauled in – he checked his watch – ten hours ago. Pizza on a paper towel was fine. The cold Dr. Pepper he shoved her way looked plenty good enough in the can, too, he thought. She popped the top with a fingernail. Her manicure was already shot from the day’s activities.

“I have never worked so hard in my life,” David finally said after both of them had eaten at least two of the every-topping-known-to-man slices each. Jo-Jo gave him a weary smile and slouched down in her chair in a very un-Jo-Jo kind of way. They were both dirty and probably didn’t smell that great at this point. He didn’t want her to think about that.

She apparently wasn’t. “I told you so,” she said, offering a sly smile although her eyes were shut.

“That you did, sweetheart. Were you always this hands-on in your decorating?”

“Pretty much,” Jo-Jo answered, sitting up straight to take another sip of her soda.

“You’re an amazing woman, Johanna Alton.”

She looked at him with curiosity. “I meant to ask you about that, not that I’m saying I don’t like it. I do. But, why ‘Johanna’ all the sudden?’ ”

“You know how I’m not your client?” David asked. Jo-Jo nodded slowly. “You’re not my best friend’s baby sister, either.”

Jo-Jo watched as David gathered the disposable remnants of their meal and divided them between his new stainless-steel garbage can and the co-mingled recycling container at its side. “Oh,” was all she said.

“Come on, Johanna,” David said. “I’m driving you home.”

“But, my car’s here.”

“So? We’ll drive your car and you can drop me off at the hotel for tonight. My stuff’s still there anyway.”

“You’re not sleeping here?” Jo-Jo asked with a bit of a whine. He knew she’d worked hard so he could do just that. After seeing her there in his room — their room if things went well — he just didn’t want to.

“Not tonight.”

“But…”

“Let’s just go, Johanna.” He was too tired to argue with her. He hoped she felt the same way.

She evidently did. “OK,” was her only answer.

Chapter 30

 “I told you so,” Michael said when his friend called a few mornings later, almost whining now himself. Utter exhaustion didn’t begin to cover it.

“It’s not Johanna,” David said with a weary laugh. “She’s wonderful – as always. It’s the stores. I had no idea there are so many of them. I think we’ve seen them all. I think we’ve bought something at them all. This empty old house is actually starting to feel like a home I want to live in – if it doesn’t kill me first.”

“I’m just amazed she agreed to take off two weeks to personally decorate your house,” Michael said. Michael was chuckling but David was well aware his friend was not entirely sure he liked it that she did. “You must be doing something right with this courtship thing. That doesn’t sound like Johanna at all.”

David smiled. Johanna hadn’t been sounding or looking like her polished CEO self for at least a week now. Yesterday, the two of them had lugged yet more furniture pieces — both small and large — into place all over the house. They’d hung draperies. They’d painted walls. By the end of the day, they were both sweaty and filthy – again. They’d enjoyed another take-out meal – Thai this time. They’d eaten it barefoot in the family room, sort of watching a Johnny Depp movie on the newly installed flat-screen TV, sort of watching each other.

He’d never loved her more.

“Johanna is the most amazing woman I have ever seen,” David said, his voice full of flowers and singing birds.

“Can you hear that?” Michael said with a gagging noise. “That sound would be my eyes rolling.”

“Don’t mock me, my friend,” David said, laughing. “From what I hear from Johanna, your time is coming. How’s your Dune Girl?”

“She’s fine, but she’s not mine,” Michael said slowly, clearly not thrilled Jo-Jo and David were discussing his love life, or lack thereof. “Did Jo-Jo also mention that said Dune Girl is 24 years old? That’s 24 as in, six or seven years ago, she was still in high school. Let’s see, what would I have been doing then? Oh, yes. I was in my 30s, married and running a furniture company. That’s kind of creepy – practically in a criminal kind of way.”

“Everyone was in high school at some point. She’s certainly not now. And, you’re only 39, Alton, not 75.”

“Whatever.”

“You can’t ‘whatever’ me off this one,” David laughed. “Your Dune Girl situation feels oddly familiar, in fact. Do you think it was easy for me when I realized I was in love with Johanna? Do you think it was easy for me to tell you about it? You met this Maggie Brady as a grown-up woman – and she is a grown-up woman, whether you want to admit it or not. I remember sitting in the floor with Johanna on my lap when she was a baby – playing peek-a-boo of all things.”

A silence clearly showed the words “in love” concerning his best friend and sister still didn’t feel totally comfortable to Michael. “Jo-Jo’s brother, here, David. Remember that,” he finally said.

David ignored him. “You probably didn’t realize it, Alton, but Johanna and I have actually been seeing a lot of each other for several months. She’d be in California and I’d meet her there. I’d visit Raleigh. Once, I even met her in Chicago for no reason other than just to see her. I kept telling myself we weren’t dating, that I was just her friend. But, reality hit me hard when we were saying good-bye at an airport this spring. We hugged and I couldn’t quite seem to let her go … and the kiss I considered giving her was in no way a friendly one.”

“Come on, David. I really don’t want to hear this.”

“I think you need to, for a couple of reasons,” David continued. “One of which, is I fully intend to marry your sister, and as soon as possible. I don’t think you’ve quite accepted that. The other is for your own good with your Dune Girl or whoever it is God has in store for you. You’ve been alone too long and you know it.”

David wasn’t done.

“When I came that close to really kissing Johanna, I couldn’t pretend any more that she was just your sister or my friend. It terrified me – more because of you than anything else, if you can believe it. I knew you really wouldn’t like it.”

Michael sighed. “I’m not sure I do.”

“I know that, bro. But, what I figured out by Jack’s wedding, is that I love Johanna too much to worry about how you feel about it. What matters is how she feels about it and — I’m warning you now – I’m pretty sure she loves me, too. There’s probably going to be a wedding – quite soon — and a whole houseful of nieces and nephews for you in the future. I love her, Alton. I want to spend the rest of my life with her. There’s no going back to the way things were.”  

Michael sighed again.

“OK, Alton, I’ll back off. Just think about it,” David said after the long silence. “Your sister’s at the door anyway. And, she’s carrying a stack of something that looks like a whole lot of work.”

“Can’t say I didn’t warn you, my friend,” Michael said with a wry laugh of his own.

*****

“Good morning,” Jo-Jo chirped, smiling prettily as she unloaded a weighty pile of fabric into his arms. “I brought some more upholstery swatches for the living room furniture.”

And, that would be when David snapped. He wasn’t sure if it was the tense conversation with Michael or the fact that there’s only so much decorating a straight guy can stand. Frankly, he didn’t really care if the living room furniture included the kind of metal folding chairs commonly found in church basements.

“Johanna, I just can’t do this any more. No decorating today.”

“David Parker! What do you have in mind?” Jo-Jo asked, tapping a sandaled foot in frustration. “I need to go back to the office in just five days. You don’t have me for much longer.”

He froze. Sweetheart, you might as well wave a red flag in front of a bull.

“But, I want to have you for much, much longer, Johanna,” David said slowly and as persuasively as he could manage. “The rest of your life, in fact.” He dropped the heavy fabric onto the marble floor with a thud and pulled her into his arms instead. Then, he kissed her exactly the way he had wanted to that day in the airport.

“David,” Jo-Jo sighed as she relaxed against him. “What are you doing?”

He laughed and pulled away from her just for an instant. “If you don’t know, sweetheart, I must need to do it a whole lot better.” And, he did, kissing her so thoroughly they were both short of breath when he was done.

“Marry me, Johanna.”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes,” Jo-Jo whispered, rising onto her tiptoes toward his face. “I am a woman who can make a decision. And, I have decided to marry you. I have also decided that I want more kisses.”

David had another plan, however. Decorating the house had been bad enough. He just couldn’t take months or, worse, a year or more of wedding planning on top of it. He’d seen friends – including Michael – nearly lose their minds during long engagements. Plus, he didn’t want to deal with any lingering brotherly resistance.

He held her away from him with both arms out straight.

“Marry me now, Johanna.” It wasn’t a question. It was a challenge. He knew he wasn’t the only one of them who could respond to red flags with a flat-out charge.

“What do you mean?” Jo-Jo asked warily.

“Marry me now,” David said.

“David Parker!” Jo-Jo said, stepping even farther away to really look at his face. “Are you talking ‘now’ as in running off to the courthouse like a couple of lovesick teenagers? Today?”

“Yes. Today,” David said, pulling her so close she had to tilt her head back to continue looking at him. “I have loved you forever, Johanna. I don’t need a fancy wedding to make that anymore true.”

Jo-Jo looked at David. Her brown eyes were glittering. She smiled. He smiled. This woman will never bore me, he thought happily as she pulled his face back down to hers.

“I have loved you forever, too,” Jo-Jo whispered against his lips. “Today it is.”

*****

David watched in amusement as his wife sent out a flurry of texts from the airport the following afternoon. On my way to Paris with David for honeymoon, Jo-Jo texted both Michael and Maggie. Married at Durham County Courthouse yesterday. Big shindig at Caldwell House when we get back. Want you both there, of course. Love you!

He wondered just what his friend’s reaction would be, particularly as Jo-Jo sent a second text to just Michael after a brief but humorous consultation with her husband. Don’t think I’ve forgotten your promise, my darling brother. See you soon.

David wouldn’t have been disappointed. Miles away, Michael slid the phone back into his pocket and stared across his workshop, seeing nothing. “Man, oh, man,” Michael sighed. “This could be trouble.”

TO ACCESS THE FINAL CHAPTERS IN ANOTHER BLOG POST, CLICK HERE.