By the time he’d finished the shower and gone after the mountain man beard with scissors and a trimmer until he at least appeared civilized, he wanted nothing more than to fall flat on his face on the full-sized bed. But that wasn’t the mission. He couldn’t just barge in on Percy and turn into an antisocial hermit. Not to mention, there was still the door to finish with. He’d dress and head downstairs to prepare them both a meal. It was the least he could do to make sure they both got fed properly. Maybe he could start a load of laundry to get rid of the last suggestions of homelessness. And he’d see what was what with his uncle.
Percy was back in his chair, watching some cop show when Ryan got downstairs.
“I’m making supper.”
If Percy heard, he didn’t acknowledge. Shrugging, Ryan headed into the kitchen. The mess of dishes on the counter pricked at his military neatness. After he’d loaded what seemed like every glass and mug Percy owned into the dishwasher and started it, Ryan dug through the fridge and pantry. Pickings were slim. Coffee. Powdered creamer. A half dozen eggs. Stale bread. Salsa. A moldy hunk of cheese. A few cans of stuff that had expired in the previous president’s administration. He tossed those and shook his head.
Damn, if this was all Percy had in the house, no wonder he was so thin. What had the guy been eating? Was it a money thing? Did he not know how to fend for himself without his wife to do all the domestic stuff?
Ryan added Trip to market to his running mental list. There ought to be enough cheese to salvage for an omelet.
Percy wandered in as he was dumping the beaten eggs into a skillet. “What’s that?”
“Gonna be dinner. You should start a grocery list. I’ll make a run tomorrow.” He nodded toward a notepad on the counter.
“Could’ve ordered pizza.”
“Is that what you’ve been eating on?” He added a few more items to the list himself.
Percy shuffled over to pour himself a glass of water, then sank into one of the ladder-back chairs at the kitchen table. “Sometimes. Don’t much like cooking.”
“Well, this won’t be like Aunt Janie’s cooking, but I don’t think we’ll starve. Kinda late, but you want coffee?”
“No. How long are you stayin’, son?”
Ryan paused. “You trying to kick me out?”
“Just asking a question.”
“I don’t know. I borrowed a truck from a buddy. It broke down a few miles outside town. The mechanic is supposed to get to it tomorrow, and he’ll let me know how long it’ll be. But I figured so long as I was crashing your hospitality, I could help out around the house.”
Bushy, gray brows drew together. “Help out?”
“I’m no good at sitting still. The Army’s made sure of that. I figure you’ve got some stuff that needs doing—a second set of hands or a younger back or whatever. Thought I’d earn my keep.” Ryan cut the omelet in half and slid each onto a plate.
Percy eyed the food before lifting his gaze back to Ryan’s. “Reckon we can come up with something.”
Well, that was a start. Ryan would take it.
Chapter 3
“You know, I’m not normally a fan of any sort of project that destroys books, but I have to admit, this looks kind of amazing.”
From her position in the front window of Inglenook Books, Hannah smiled over at Reed Campbell, the owner, as she finished adding the last layer of “branches” to the Christmas tree she’d fashioned out of book pages. “Well, it’s certainly not something you’d do with new stock, but giving new life to a book that’s already damaged…yeah, there’s a lot you can do with pages. The print against the white makes for a cool effect. I’ll be making a wreath, too.”
Brenda, the bookstore’s only other employee, wandered over. “Where did you learn how to do all this? Pinterest?”
“There are certainly plenty of ideas there,” Hannah conceded, “but no, I’m actually an interior decorator by training. I’ve got a degree from the Savannah College of Art and Design.”
Her brows drew together in confusion. “And you’re working at the diner?”
Hannah draped white twinkle lights with way more care than was really necessary until she could get her reaction under control. “I had some health problems that necessitated I leave my job in Atlanta last year. My sister was kind enough to let me stay with her while I got back on my feet, and Mama Pearl has been awesome enough to give me a job. So yeah, I work at the diner, for now.”
“Well, I’m just gonna say your talents are wasted,” Reed declared. “I wish you’d let me pay you in more than filched snacks from the knitting club.”
Hannah flashed him a smile. “That’s not what this was about. I wanted the opportunity to use my skills for fun to spread some Christmas cheer and advertise my capabilities. You’re taking a chance on me by letting me do this.” And, okay, maybe part of this whole thing was about reminding herself that she still had the skills. The last year had been a massive earthquake to her confidence. But already she had two more appointments to discuss holiday window displays—one with Brides and Belles and another with Edison Hardware.
“I’m definitely getting the better end of the deal. And at the very least you permanently have the friends and family discount for whatever you buy.”
“Deal. Which works out well because I’ll be back for some Christmas shopping.”
“Are you thinking about opening your own design firm?” Reed asked.
“Maybe someday,” she hedged. But wasn’t that exactly what she ultimately hoped to do? “I’m a long way from having the capital for something like that.” The accident had seen to that.
“You should go talk to my cousin Mitch’s wife, Tess, over at the small business incubator, when she gets back from maternity leave. I know they’ve still got some space.”
Given she worked in the primary gossip hub in town, Hannah remembered hearing something about that. “What exactly is a small business incubator?”
“Tess can explain it better than I can, but basically it gives infrastructure and mentorship to small businesses to help them get off the ground. It gives you a safety net you wouldn’t have going out entirely on your own.”
That sounded…intriguing. The idea of having a mentor guide her through the business side of things made her feel a lot less frightened of the prospect. “But they aren’t letting just anybody in, right? It wouldn’t be just signing a lease on space.”
“No, there’s an application process. They’ve got more info on the website. I’ll jot it down for you.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it.”
The bell over the door jangled and a herd of chattering, blue-haired ladies wandered in. The Casserole Patrol was a familiar fixture at Dinner Belles. In her tenure there, they’d opined on the love lives of literally everybody in town. Young, old. Didn’t matter. It was their favorite occupation. They consistently hoped that camping out in the back booth nearest the kitchen would somehow give them a leg up in winning the assorted betting pools Omar was constantly running on who would end up with whom. Plenty of people found the trio annoying. For Hannah it was like having her own, local version of the Golden Girls. That certainly didn’t stop Reed’s sales clerk, Brenda, from beating a hasty retreat to the stock room in back before they noticed her.