When We Let Go, Delancey Stewart [early reader books .txt] 📗
- Author: Delancey Stewart
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Angela leaned in when Chance got close and tried to share a knowing giggle with him as my mother’s wailing cry floated back onto the set, but Chance shook his head. “You know, I cannot fold one of those for the life of me. I usually end up in tears, too,” he said. “I think I’m going to call Esther to come take a look at my linen closet. It’s a disaster …” He smiled and there was something so sincere about him I had no doubt every person watching fell in love with him just a little bit right then. I fell in love with him a little more every time I watched him try to make my mother’s humiliation just a little bit less horrid.
Angela was clearly won over. She smiled a moony smile at him. “Tell us about this latest project, Chance. Is it true you’re renovating the Kings Grove cottages out of the goodness of your heart?”
Chance laughed, his low honeyed voice stirring something in my blood to life. I was warm all over as he began to speak. “I don’t know that I’d put it that way, Angela. Those cottages are part of our history—Kings Grove history. They’ve stood for almost a hundred years, and I just can’t stomach the state of disrepair they’ve fallen into. Palmer Construction has a not-for-profit foundation in addition to our primary business—and this is just the latest project for the Foundation.”
“That’s wonderful, Chance. You’re really preserving a piece of Kings Grove history then, aren’t you?”
Chance nodded, a lock of dark hair falling across his forehead. “That’s the idea,” he said. “My great grandparents came up here as visitors in the early 1900s, and these big trees got under their skin and they stayed. I know lots of folks now who come up here as guests every summer, and those cottages are part of their experience, their family memory. I want to be sure that future generations will have the same opportunity—if not to live up here, then to have a way to visit every year.”
I’d fallen into a kind of trance, watching Chance Palmer in the unguarded way I wanted to stare at him in real life. In front of the television I could study him, notice the way the fine lines crinkled at the corners of his eyes, focus on how he lifted his chin just so when he made a point. I could stare at him forever. But when he came into the diner where I worked, I could barely form two words, and I usually spilled something on him just to seal the deal.
“Miranda.” Mom was staring at me.
When Chance’s segment ended, I turned to face her, eyebrows up in question.
“Honey, enough. You can’t stay up here your whole life mooning over that boy and working in a diner. Look what’s become of me.”
“I think you’re being a little dramatic. Besides, I’m working on my degree. And then I’ll decide what to do.”
She shook her head. “Interior design isn’t something folks need a lot of in the mountains, honey.”
“Maybe I can start a blog, make a living like you do.”
Dad had wandered through the living room, eating a sandwich, and overheard this last part. “She used to make a living,” he said. “But since Sheetgate …” He grinned.
Mom began to cry again.
I stood. I’d had enough. “I’ve got work, guys. Are you coming in for dinner tonight?” My folks liked to eat at the diner once a week when I was working.
Dad nodded. His olive green uniform was covered in dust. “Just gotta get cleaned up.”
“You’re a mess, Dad.”
“It’s so dry out there,” he said. “There are just clouds of dust floating around the trails in some places—especially if you run into horses.” Dad was a park ranger, and he spent his days working at the visitor center, leading hikes, and working on the trails around the National Park.
I grabbed my Kings Grover Diner shirt and headed back out the door.
“See you at the diner!”
“Chance, I’ll see you at the office,” I called behind me as I opened the front door of the house I’d lived in since I’d been born.
“See you,” he called back, lifting a coffee cup my way and staring down at his phone. “You stopping by Carolynn Teague’s place? She called the office three times yesterday.” He looked up and grinned at me.
I blew out a breath and gave him a level look. “Yes.”
His grin spread wider. “Got a ladder?” He was enjoying this too much.
“I have the ladder. I’m just going to go fix her imaginary leak, and then I’ll be in.”
He chuckled and returned his gaze to his phone. “Have fun, Sam. Don’t let her get you as you climb down …”
It was a valid warning. Mrs. Teague had what might have been described as ‘a thing’ for me; she called me out to her cabin at least once every two weeks to repair shingles that weren’t broken, patch pipes that hadn’t burst, and rehang doors that were perfectly hung. It was our thing. And I put up with it for two reasons—one, Mrs. Teague was a nice old lady, even if she did get a little handsy now and then; and two—she always paid for the work.
Today I found myself climbing up to the roof, Mrs. Teague insisting that she needed to ‘hold the ladder’ as I went up. I could feel her eyes boring holes into my butt as I climbed above her, but she was mostly harmless, so I just swallowed hard and hustled to the top. With a normal job, I’d send one of the guys out, but Mrs. Teague had been asking for me specifically since high school, and I’d been coming down here to help her long enough to know the whole situation was benign.
“Right up here, Mrs. Teague?” I called down, choosing a random spot on her perfectly intact shingled roof to repair.
She had stepped out a few feet, so she had a perfect view of me as I knelt on her sloped roof. I smiled down at her while simultaneously trying to make sure I didn’t slide off. Death wasn’t on my agenda today. “That’s perfect, Sam,” she called up. “My, you’re so strong and capable.”
Working for Mrs. Teague should have been an ego boost. She definitely appreciated my, uh, assets. And it was nice to hear sometimes, but the compliments would have been more appreciated coming from someone else. Specifically Miranda George, who I was pretty sure hadn’t actually looked at me since we were six. Miranda had decided about then that she was in love with my older brother Chance, and while everyone said we look alike, Miranda didn’t seem to share that opinion, or she just didn’t care. I doubted she’d really ever even noticed the similarities, because she was too blinded by Chance and his glittering perfection. Chance was all charm and personality. I was …well, I was just me.
“Yep, I think I’ve got it just about patched up here,” I called down to Mrs. Teague.
“Was it a big hole, Sam?”
“Big enough,” I lied, hammering in a fresh shingle to replace the perfectly good one I’d removed. “This ought to do it.” I scooted back down the roof toward the ladder, tucking my hammer into the tool belt at my waist.
“Oh, careful now!” She called up, and I could tell that she’d moved back to ‘hold the ladder’ for me again. I swallowed my pride and climbed down, wishing she’d take a few steps back as my butt ended up pretty much in her face at the bottom.
It was a surprisingly hot morning, and sweat was already beading on my forehead. I wiped at it and rolled up my sleeves when I hit the ground. Mrs. Teague’s appreciative eyes followed every motion.
“Iced tea, Sam?” She smiled sweetly at me.
“That’s awfully nice of you, Mrs. Teague, but I need to get on into work. My brother will be expecting me,” I told her.
She nodded and continued smiling at me. “You boys work so hard,” she said. “All that hammering and nailing and …drilling.” She blushed and I tried not to cringe, turning instead to pull down the ladder and get it hooked back to the truck.
Chance and I didn’t do a lot of actual construction at this point, hiring out crews for most of the labor, but she didn’t need to be corrected. Mrs. Teague was all by herself up here, and I didn’t really mind dropping by now and then if it made her … happy.
“Okay, well,” I said, pulling my keys from my pocket. “I think we’re all set here. You take care, Mrs. Teague, and give me a call when you need me.” I dropped one arm over the old lady’s shoulder and leaned down to kiss her cheek. She giggled and grinned like a girl, blushing furiously.
“Thank you, Sam,” she said. Her voice was breathy and high, and her eyes didn’t leave me as I climbed into the truck and gave her a
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