know better, she’d think you were entering nothing more controversial than a gift shop or bakery.
“So what do you think?”
It would be nothing but stubbornness that kept her from admitting its acceptability. She raised her eyes to his, startled by the intent scrutiny of his gaze. “It appears tastefully done.”
He gave a brisk, satisfied nod and tapped a key on the laptop to bring up another rendering. “The second floor is reserved for an office and stock, but this is the front interior. As you can see, it gives the impression of what you’d expect of an old-fashioned hardware store.”
Lots of wood. Retention of the beamed ceiling and polished wood flooring. Indirect lighting.
“And this—” his gaze, now uncertain, remained on her as he moved to the next screen “—is the interior rear of the building.”
The game processing area. But it looked as modern and benign as any restaurant kitchen with its massive stainless-steel island, vertical freezers and oversize sinks. The heavy double doors, of course, led to a graveled parking lot out back. The comings and goings of hunters and their game would be discreetly conducted away from the public eye.
“So can the Co-op live with this?”
Did it matter? He’d plainly told her it was there to stay. That the Co-op had only itself to blame if its neighbor was less than ideal for the next three years.
She stepped back from the table and farther from the imposing presence of Grady. “I can’t speak for the other members of the Co-op, but I see nothing objectionable here. As you indicated, it’s low profile. Nothing blatantly offensive to the sensibilities of others.”
“I’m glad you agree.”
She offered a coaxing smile. “Would you have any objections if I took printouts of the color designs to the Artists’ Co-op meeting tomorrow night?”
He studied her for a long moment, as if hesitant to turn loose the illustrations. “Maybe I should speak with them personally. Deal with their concerns. I can rearrange my schedule.”
Grady Hunter in attendance? Not a good idea.
“Thank you, but as the saying goes, a picture paints a thousand words.” She didn’t want the more contentious members haranguing Grady if he were there in person.
Unquestionably, the growing artists’ community needed to be fairly represented in local government and she’d committed to being their voice. But they didn’t need to further turn the longtime residents of Hunter Ridge against them with unreasonable demands. “I’ll take responsibility for the prints and won’t allow anyone to photograph or otherwise copy them.”
“I have your word on that?” A half smile surfaced, as if recognizing his wasn’t a trusting nature any more than hers was.
“You do. And I’ll return the printouts as soon as possible.” It was a good excuse to come back to Hunter’s Hideaway. Maybe she could take a closer look at the old photographs in the hallway—and the ones in his office, as well.
He studied her a moment longer, as though trying to convince himself of her trustworthiness, and her face warmed under his scrutiny. Then abruptly he reached over to the laptop to press the print key for each of the illustrations he’d shown her. Straightening again, he gave her a challenging look. “Since I have your word...”
He moved to stand over a credenza, where a printer whirred its output, then removed the pages from the tray. Frowning, he held them aloft. “Looks as though it needs a new black ink cartridge. I’ll be back in a minute.”
As he headed into the hallway, she confirmed Tessa was occupied, then approached a grouping of framed photographs that had caught her eye. Were the faces of her ancestors captured here? If only she had time to scrutinize them. If only...
She darted a look toward the door and, before she could stop herself, she whipped out her cell phone from her jacket pocket.
But as she raised it, zoomed in on one of the old photos, she paused. She’d given her word not to copy the building illustrations, the implication clear that she’d not use them in any way against Grady’s family. Would capturing the old photographs in an attempt to find something that she could use against the Hunters be breaking that vow?
A muscle in her throat tightened.
Grady would be back any moment. Yes, as he’d pointed out, the photos might not have any connection to his family. But who knew when she’d again have an opportunity to examine evidence that might provide substance to her grandmother’s tale?
It was now or never.
Aligning the camera lens once more, she glanced toward her daughter concentrating on the coloring book in her lap. Her daughter in whom she intended to instill the hallmarks of good character, determined that she wouldn’t follow in her father’s footsteps.
With a soft sigh and a lingering look at the photos, she pocketed her phone—just as Grady strode back into the room.
* * *
“How did it go?” Grandma Jo’s voice came from behind him where he stood on the front porch, watching as Sunshine’s SUV backed out of a parking spot.
Cutting off his apprehensive thoughts, Grady responded. “She agreed that the store design is, in her words, ‘tastefully done.’ So I don’t think Mom will get pushback from her during the election.”
“Excellent. Well done, Grady.”
His heart swelled at the praise, something Grandma Jo didn’t lavish unless merited. Sunshine had been cooperative, but what about the other Co-op members who’d view the renderings? He should have insisted that if the printouts went to the meeting, he be part of the package, too. But those dark, appealing eyes, the soft coaxing voice, had won him over.
Hadn’t he learned his lesson six years ago?
“Ms. Carston doesn’t stand a chance against your mother.” Grandma’s tone brooked no argument. “While the artists she represents will rally, there aren’t enough to swing a vote.”
“Garrett says she’s not concentrating exclusively on the artist community.” His pastor cousin was often privy to behind-the-scenes rumblings—aka gossip. “She’s digging deep to learn what others might like to see change in Hunter Ridge and promising to represent their viewpoint, as well.”
“I’m not concerned.” Grandma Jo’s chin lifted. “We’ve had Hunters on the town council since its beginnings.”
“True.” Aunts, uncles, cousins. One day, if he couldn’t run fast enough, he’d probably get lassoed into the role, too. But hopefully that was a long way off—if ever. He had too many other things he hoped to accomplish and no taste for politics.
“Again, Grady, good job.” Grandma Jo patted his arm. “We can always count on you.”
She returned inside and he restlessly stepped off the porch. Grandma was a straight shooter who wasn’t afraid to look you in the eye and give you her honest opinion. He’d gotten a no-holds-barred appraisal from her six years ago. She was giving him her equally honest opinion now.
She trusted him.
But, as she’d reminded him that long ago day when things had fallen apart with Jasmine, a reputation once shattered might be patched together—but people would forever be on the lookout for cracks.
There would be no cracks on his watch.
Nevertheless, why hadn’t he confessed to Grandma Jo that he’d sent Sunshine off into the world with photocopies of their latest business endeavor?
“Things could have been worse,” Sunshine admitted to Tori as she closed the apartment