that Chelsea was as horrified by that idea as he was. Then Molly’s words registered more clearly. “Did you notice how she said that?”
Eyes wide with shock, Chelsea nodded. “She didn’t say ‘accomplished,’ as if she was referring to what happened in the past. She made it sound like we should work together now and see how it goes.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he reassured her smoothly. “Everyone’s got an opinion about this mill project. Doesn’t mean she’s right.”
“Absolutely. Of course.”
While they both continued eating, Paul was careful not to let Chelsea catch him glancing over at her. Because, despite what he’d said just a few moments ago, he couldn’t dismiss the possibility that Molly was right. With his technical know-how and her business sense, he and Chelsea would make a great team. Having her on his side would definitely improve the chances of his wild idea succeeding.
Unfortunately, his male instincts warned him that any partnership with this by-the-books accountant would drive him completely over the edge. Then again, working with a woman instead of dating her would be a refreshing change for him. At least he wouldn’t end up getting tossed out of his own apartment into the rain.
* * *
“What a wonderful surprise!” Olivia Barrett exclaimed, folding Chelsea into a warm hug. It was the second one she’d gotten today, and this one felt just as good as the first. To be welcomed back after so many years away felt amazing.
“I was in town, so I wanted to stop by and see you two,” she explained with a hesitant peek into the dining room. All the antique furniture was pushed to one side, opening up space for a hospital bed. “Is this a good time?”
“It’s always a good time for company.” The shadows beneath her brown eyes spoke of many sleepless nights, but the determined glimmer said she was making the best of their difficult situation. “Folks come tiptoeing in here like Will’s already laid out for his funeral. It makes me crazy.”
“Well, we’re here to fix that,” her grandson informed her, holding up two take-out bags printed with The Whistlestop’s trolley logo.
“We could smell it when you were coming up the walk. I’ll get some plates.”
“In here,” he replied, wiggling the bags. “No dishes for you to wash, so you can just relax and enjoy your lunch.”
“My boy,” she cooed, grasping his chin for a fond shake. “Did I ever tell you you’re my favorite?”
When she turned to lead them into the dining room, Paul whispered to Chelsea, “She says that to all of us.”
Thanks to him, Chelsea was laughing when she saw Will Barrett. His pale face broke into a bright smile, and though he looked achingly frail, he greeted her in the strong baritone voice that used to ring out from the church choir every Sunday. “Marvelous to see you, Chelsea. Come in. Come in.”
His hand trembled as he motioned her to the armchair beside his bed, and she sank into it as unexpected emotions clogged her throat. Paul had warned her his grandfather was dying, but she hadn’t been prepared for the reality of what that meant. Though it was tucked behind a leafy ficus, she noticed an IV pole holding a bag of dripping medication. Looking from it to Will, the sympathy in his eyes caught her even more off guard.
“I know,” he said simply, patting her hand with his. “It’s not easy, but we’re making the best of things.”
“Why are you here instead of in a hospital?” she blurted without thinking first. When she realized what she’d done, she felt herself reddening in embarrassment.
Will chased off her discomfort with a faint laugh. “All that poking and prodding was making me downright ornery. And the food.” Condemning it with a sour face, he continued, “I’m happier here, and now Olivia can be comfortable at home instead of driving back and forth to a place full of sick people.”
“Gram came down with pneumonia a few weeks ago,” Paul explained, pulling some dining chairs over so they could all sit near Will. Winking at her, he added, “Personally, I think she was just looking for an excuse to stay in bed and do crossword puzzles all day.”
“Oh, you,” she protested, playfully smacking the back of his head.
A few weeks, Chelsea mused while Olivia dished up barbecue for Will and then herself. The time frame rang a bell, and she turned to Paul with newfound respect. “Is that why you came back from Oregon?”
“Mostly I missed Gram’s peach cobbler. It’s still the best I ever had.”
“I could never keep this one full,” she said with an adoring look at him. “The whole time he was growing up, the more I cooked, the more he ate.”
“Hey, I’m the middle kid. I had to keep getting bigger so they wouldn’t all pound me.”
“Are your brothers still around?” Chelsea asked.
His eyes darkened to near black, but he quickly masked his reaction with a grin. “Most of ’em. Connor and Greg live over in Cambridge with their families, and Jason’s busy loading up my secret weapon for the mill.”
“What about Scott?”
Dead silence. It felt as if something had sucked all the air out of the room, and Chelsea wished she could disappear from sight under the old floorboards.
“Scott’s still finding his way,” Olivia answered quietly. “Lemonade, dear?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Deciding not to risk any more blunders, Chelsea sipped her cool drink and listened to the Barretts discuss the goings-on around the town she’d left behind so long ago. While they talked, she gained a fresh appreciation for the commitment Paul had made, seemingly without a second thought.
His vision for the mill seemed long-term, which meant he wasn’t planning on going anywhere. He probably had a life out West, but he was forsaking that to be where he was needed most. Sitting here in this sunny room, being entertained by the local gossip, she was struck by a random thought that rattled her right down to her toes.
This was love.
This was what it meant to put someone else before yourself, to value their happiness and well-being as much as you did your own. While Chelsea had always admired and respected her father, as a teenager she’d accepted that his one-track mind was focused on making his bank as profitable as possible. These days they worked in the same building, but they seldom shared moments like this one. To her knowledge, Theo Barnes had never eaten takeout from paper plates and debated whether the new highway project was a good use of county funds or a complete waste of money.
While she was considering that, Paul’s phone rang, and he checked the screen. “Fred,” he told her, hitting the answer button. “Hey, there. Thanks for getting back to me. Chelsea Barnes is in town, and her fancy new car won’t start. It’s at the mill, and I’m hoping you can help us out so she can get back to Roanoke sometime today.” He glanced up at the antique schoolhouse clock on the wall. “Half hour’s fine. See ya then.”
Chelsea was perplexed by their short exchange. Granted, she wasn’t Miss Fix-It, but from what she’d heard, Paul hadn’t offered the mechanic the slightest bit of useful information. “You didn’t tell him a thing. How does he know what to bring?”
“I said ‘fancy’ and ‘new,’” Paul pointed out matter-of-factly. “He’ll know.”
“But—”
“Do you always hassle people who’re trying to help you?”
Folding his arms, he leaned back in his chair and cocked his head in a pose that made her think of Boyd when she’d met him that morning. The idea of Paul beginning to resemble his canine friend was more amusing than it should have been, and she couldn’t help smiling.
“That’s so much better,”