Love Inspired December 2014 - Box Set 2 of 2: Her Holiday Family\Sugar Plum Season\Her Cowboy Hero\Small-Town Fireman (2 page)

“Which means we need to set ground rules.” She glossed over his compliment as if it hadn't affected her. Max allotted her extra points for that and played along. “Employees are not allowed to fraternize outside of work.”

Max frowned. “My parents own this place and I'm going to guarantee they fraternize outside of work. That's how they got to be parents.”

She bristled, looking really cute as she did. But he couldn't think of that. There was work to be done so he held up a hand. “You're right. I know you and Earl have been picking up a lot of slack, so my goal is to help you any way I can. If we can keep Mom and Dad from worrying about the store, Dad can focus on getting through his treatments. Getting well.”

“Then we share the same objective. Perfect.” She gave him a crisp nod as she moved to a stack of holiday-themed boxes. “As long as we keep our focus on that, we shouldn't have any problems.”

Saucy and determined, the grown-up Tina wasn't much different than she'd been years ago. He knew he should stop. Let her have the last word. But when she slanted a “keep your distance” look over her shoulder, he couldn't resist. “Working for the government taught me to get around problems efficiently, Tina Martinelli. I expect that might come in handy now and then.”

* * *

Come in handy?

Not with her, it wouldn't.

Oh, she saw the charm and self-assuredness that had drawn girls to Max back in their youth. Refined now, the charisma was more dangerous, almost volatile. But Tina hadn't spent the last decade pining for her childhood crush. She'd managed to have her heart broken twice since, so Max could flirt and tempt all he wanted. It would do him no good.

Tina was immune.

You want to be immune, but face it, darling. Damp palms say something else entirely.

She shushed the internal warning, but when she leaned in to show Max how to engage cash register functions, the scent of him made her long to draw closer.

She didn't. She ignored the fact that he smelled of sandalwood and soap and total guy, and that the flash of his smile brightened a room.

She didn't need any rooms brightened, thank you. A few LED lightbulbs took care of that in a cost-effective way.

Over the years, she'd shrugged off her teenage attraction to Max as silly adolescent stuff. But today, seeing the straightforward warmth of the hardened but humorous man he'd become?

That might be tough to resist.

Fortunately Tina wasn't in the market for anything in Kirkwood Lake these days. Least of all another broken heart. Been there, done that. Overrated.

She showed him through the layout of the store. His parents had done a complete remodel four years previous, making Max's memories obsolete, and the first thing he noted out loud were the rotational seasonal displays set at four separate locations. “I expect this was my mother's idea.”

Tina nodded as she unlocked the front door and officially opened the story for business. “She likes to go to regional conferences that teach how to build sales while keeping overhead in check.”

“Always a trick in retail.” Max nodded to the first customer in the door, a woman, carrying an older-model chain saw that had seen better days.

“Is Earl here yet?” The look she gave Tina and Max said she didn't put much trust in their abilities.

“No, ma'am,” Max told her. “Not 'til noon. But maybe I can help?”

She looked at him, really looked, then formed her mouth into a grim line. “Maxwell Campbell, I do believe you still owe me for some flowers that went missing from my garden about twelve years back. Give or take a summer or two.”

Max's grimace said his memory clicked to a younger version of the woman before him. “You're absolutely correct, Mrs. Hyatt. Those would be red roses and I believe they found their way over to Sophie Benedict's house. I'll be happy to make that up to you now with my apologies for the delay. And ask your forgiveness, of course.”

The look she settled on him said maybe that was okay, and maybe it wasn't. “How long have you served our country, young man?”

“Over a decade.”

Her mouth softened. Her shoulders relaxed. “I'd say we're more than even.” She clapped a hand to his shoulder, hometown pride showing in her eyes, her smile. “Welcome home, Max. I expect your parents are most pleased to have you here, and just in time to share the holidays together.”

“Yes, ma'am. My mom goes a little bit crazy over Thanksgiving and Christmas, that's for sure. And about that saw?” He dropped his gaze to the chain saw in her arms.

Her face said she was inclined to wait until Earl's arrival nearly three hours later.

“If you bring it to Dad's tool bench, I'd be glad to have a look.”

“If you think you can.” She didn't try to mask the dubious note in her voice. “It's been a long time since you've worked with your dad.”

“True.” He led the way to Charlie's well-lit bench and table at the back corner, a popular gathering place for small-town talk and broken tools. “But I remember a thing or two. And working for Uncle Sam taught me a few new tricks. Let's see what's going on.” He examined the pieces, then nodded. “We've got a bad clutch. Tina, does Dad carry parts for all models in the back or just current ones?”

His quiet confidence in his abilities lightened Tina's angst. Working for the Campbells helped them and her, but with Charlie out of commission and Earl on limited hours, she'd been fielding a lot of questions with few answers the past two weeks. Maybe having Max around wouldn't be so bad, not if he could actually make sense out of the more difficult hardware inquiries. “I'll check and see. If we have to order it, we won't get it until next Tuesday, Mrs. Hyatt. Is that all right?”

“Tuesday's fine with me. Then would you be able to fix it right away?” she wondered. She hesitated, looking a little uncomfortable, then explained, “I hate to push, knowing what's going on with your dad and all, but I promised my husband I'd get this fixed before wood-cutting season. Once the cold hits, he'll take to the woods for next year's heating supply, but he can't cut without his saw. And with the Festival of Lights coming up, I'm going to have my hands full. I expect you're taking that over for your father, as well?”

Max sent a blank look from her to Tina and back. “Festival of Lights? I'm not following you.”

“The annual Christmas lighting event we've been doing for years,” Mrs. Hyatt replied. “This year it's the final big event of our bicentennial celebration,” she continued. “Your dad heads up the committee, we use the funds raised from the park drive-through to support the women's shelter in Clearwater, and Tina and I handle the food venues with a bunch of volunteers. That money helps stock food pantries all year long. Joe Burns is helping.” She ticked off her fingers, listing familiar names. “The Radcliffes, Sawyers and Morgans are all on board, as well. We've got everything planned out, of course, because it starts soon, but no one knows how to do lighting grids as well as Charlie Campbell.”

* * *

One phrase stood out.

The Sawyers.
Pete's family, Tina's neighbors on Upper Lake Road. Pete used to love ditching both his little sister, Sherrie, and Tina. He and Max would take their small boat out and go fishing or girl-watching. When they were young, fishing took precedence. By the time they finished high school?

Partying had replaced fishing for Pete.

Regret speared Max. He shelved it purposely. He'd come back to help and make amends. Right now, helping took precedence, even if it meant coming face-to-face with Pete's family sooner rather than later.

Business owners were taking advantage of today's nice weather to hang festive garland. Town crews had manned a cherry-picker truck to string lights through Main Street trees, and decorated wreaths marked each old-fashioned light pole. Like it or not they were two weeks shy of Thanksgiving and the town was knee-deep in a project that depended on Charlie's calm help and expertise.

“I'll talk to my dad and see what I can do to help. We'll cover it, Mrs. Hyatt. No worries.”

Her sigh of relief said he'd answered correctly. “And you're okay with me coming by next Wednesday to pick up the saw?”

“I'll put the part in as soon as it arrives,” Max promised. “If there's any delay, we'll give you a call.”

“That would be wonderful.” She watched as he filled out a tag with her name, gave him her phone number, then smiled, more relaxed than when she came into the store. “I expect you'll both be at the final committee meeting Wednesday night?”

Special ops had prepared Max to tack with the prevailing wind, no matter what the mission. “Absolutely. When and where?”

“We used to have them at my café.” The resignation in Tina's tone said her loss rubbed raw. “But Carmen Bianchi said we could meet in her apartment behind Vintage Place instead. Seven o'clock.”

“I'll be there,” Max promised. “And we'll be ready to implement Dad's action plan, Mrs. Hyatt.”

“Good!” Her smile said his confidence appeased her concerns. Which meant he hadn't lost his touch, but if he was coming face-to-face with the Sawyers in a few days, and expected to run this light show thing, he needed to get his mental ducks in a row. Fast.

Max watched Mrs. Hyatt walk out the door, then took the broken saw to the second bench. “I know Dad always puts them in back in the order they come in, but I don't want to forget my promise to her.”

“Seeing it is a good reminder,” Tina replied. “And the back room is kind of crowded right now anyway.” She greeted someone, then waved another pair of customers upstairs to the “country store” shop, another one of his mother's ideas. Fifteen years ago, folks had kind of ridiculed the idea of a home shop in a hardware store, but no one scoffed now. Campbell's “Country Cove” on the second floor did enough winter business to pay the bills and record a profit, a huge plus in northern towns.

When Tina came back to the front, Max indicated the door and Mrs. Hyatt's retreating back with a quick glance. “What have you been doing the past few weeks when customers like that came in? Did you send them elsewhere?”

“Come with me.” Tina led him into the back room, threaded a path through the overstock and the glass-cutting corner, then waved toward Charlie's equipment fix-it zone for larger repairs. “This is what Earl's been working on this past week when he was healthy enough to be here.”

Max counted eighteen separate tools in various stages of repair. “Are these due to be picked up soon?”

“Tomorrow. That's our regular tool pickup day now.”

Tomorrow. Of course Earl was scheduled to work a one-to-five shift today, but that was a lot of fixing to do before they opened tomorrow morning. “Are the necessary parts available? Have they been delivered?”

“With the exception of Herb Langdon's snowblower, yes. And I called and told him the part was on back order. Earl was out sick this week so all this stuff is here, waiting. Tomorrow morning we'll have a bunch of people coming in to pick up tools that most likely won't be ready.”

“So that's why my mother came in yesterday.” Max made a face of realization. “Earl was sick.”

“And you know your mother. She said it was fine because your brothers took care of keeping Charlie company while she was here, but I could tell she was torn.”

“Luke and Seth aren't exactly nursing material.” Max respected his older brothers, two decorated county sheriff's deputies, but nursing care wasn't their forte.

“He needs company more than care right now,” Tina answered. “And your mom needs to get out now and again. Catch her breath. You know.”

Max didn't know any such thing. His mother was the most dedicated and loving person he'd ever met. The thought of her wanting to leave Charlie's side seemed alien. “I expect she'd rather be with Dad. Just in case.”

The uncertainty in Tina's expression said he might know tools but he'd just flunked Women 101. And that was somewhat surprising, because Max thought he knew women fairly well. But maybe not Kirkwood Lake women.

Despite Earl's help that afternoon, by the time they locked the doors at five o'clock, there were still three lawn mowers, two leaf blowers, two power-washers and two log-splitters awaiting repair.

Earl held his knit cap in his hand, sheepish. “I shoulda knowed I wasn't gonna get to all those with Charlie gone, Max. I can come in early tomorrow and help.” He slapped a hand to his head, then shook his head. “No, I'm wrong, Mavis is havin' some eye thing done tomorrow mornin' and I promised to drive her. If she breaks the appointment who knows how long it will take to get another. And she'd have my head for puttin' her off.”

“Oh, those women,” Tina muttered, just out of Earl's range of hearing.

Max fought a smile and sent Earl off. “I'll stay late, see what I can do. Thanks for today, though, Earl. It was great working with you.”

“Same here.” Earl made his way to the door, paused, thought, then continued as if he'd never stopped at all. Tina watched him go before she faced Max.

“Do you want me to stay and help? If you show me what to do, I might be able to take some of the pressure off you.”

Assessing the number of tools and the variety of fixes, Max wished that were true, but— “It would take me longer to train you tonight than it would to fix them myself, but I appreciate the offer, Tina. And working with Earl today gave me a refresher course in small-engine repair.” He pointed to a stack of thin books alongside the bench. “I've got manuals for each of the models from the internet.” He shrugged, pulled on one of his dad's sweatshirts from the rack behind the workroom bench and waved her on. “I'll be fine. Not like I haven't pulled double duty in my time.”

“If you're sure?”