“Hey fella.”
Ryan tripped from sleep to wakefulness in an instant, his hand reaching for the combat knife he wasn’t actually wearing at the moment.
The mechanic stood a good three paces away, hands lifted in the universal sign for no threat. “Army?”
“Yes, sir.” Ryan forced his muscles to relax. He should’ve heard the mechanic’s approach. Damn, he must be more exhausted than he realized.
“Navy,” the man said. “Thirty years ago, now. You have the look aboutcha. Ready to go pick up that truck?”
The two of them loaded into the tow truck and Ryan directed the mechanic—who was, in fact, Lou himself—to where he’d left the Chevy on the little two-lane highway. Quick and efficient, Lou had the truck hooked up and towed back to the garage in less than an hour. Then he went the extra mile and dropped Ryan off at Percy’s on his way home. Apparently Elf Girl wasn’t the only person in town willing to go out of their way to help a stranger.
Shouldering his bag, Ryan strode up the walk toward the house. The porch was dark, but a light shone from somewhere in the back. He pressed the bell, listening to the tones of it ring and fade before a faint voice hollered, “I’m coming. I’m coming!”
He waited, wondering exactly what to say since he hadn’t called ahead. Before he could decide, a loud crash sounded from inside.
“Percy?” Ryan shouted. He banged on the door, tested the knob. Locked. He checked the immediate vicinity for a key. Finding none, and given the reports his mom had passed along about the state of Percy’s health, he dropped his bag, took a step back, and kicked in the front door.
The lock gave way with a snap, the door flying back to hit the interior wall. He charged through with all the speed and efficiency of his Delta Force training, clearing rooms until he found the old man on his knees, one hand braced on the arm of a sofa as he struggled to rise. A lamp lay on the floor, the cattywampus shade casting crazy shadows on the wall.
A quick flash of fear crossed Percy’s face before he firmed his expression. “Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my house?”
Ryan picked up the lamp and righted it before offering a hand. “Good to see you too, Uncle Percy.”
Chapter 2
“I’m home!” Hannah sang out.
“Back here.”
She dumped her purse and went in search of her older sister.
Carolanne stood in the kitchen, the counters covered by the ingredients and equipment of her trade. The apron she wore read Your OPINION was not in the RECIPE. She tapped at the screen of the tablet mounted to one of the cabinets, making a notation about whatever recipe she was developing.
“What are you making?”
“Experimenting with some new cookies. I’m wanting something new to pair with the hot cocoa I’m serving this month.”
Hannah reached for one of the many aprons her sister had on hand. This one read I bake because punching people is frowned upon. “I volunteer as tribute. Does this mean we’re having cookies for dinner?”
Carolanne arched a brow. “Was it that kind of day?”
“No, it was actually a really good day. Mama Pearl loved the tree I decorated for the diner. And there was this guy.”
The other brow went up. “A guy?”
Hannah waved that off and grabbed a clean spoon from the drawer to scoop up a taste of the dough. “Not that kind of guy. He was homeless.” Though that tip hadn’t fit with his appearance. “Or maybe not homeless, but down on his luck, I think.” But if that was the case, why had he left such a big tip? Pride? Christmas spirit? Maybe she had the whole thing wrong.
She stuck the spoon in her mouth, letting the sweet and spicy dough melt on her tongue. “Mmm, delicious. What is that?”
“Cardamom and cinnamon. And they’ll be studded with roasted pecans, I think.”
“I approve.” As she rolled dough to Carolanne’s specifications, Hannah told her about the soldier.
“You always did have a soft spot for vets.”
“Hard not to.”
There’d been several homeless veterans in the vicinity of her old design firm’s offices in Atlanta. Where other people crossed the street to avoid them or averted their eyes, Hannah had made a habit of bringing something for them. Not a lot. She’d been a junior member of the firm living in an expensive city. But coffee or sandwiches when she could. So when she’d had her accident near there more than a year ago, it’d been those vets who’d rescued her, they who’d first been on the scene.
“I still worry about my guys,” she admitted. Without her there, who was watching out for them?
“I’m sure they’re finding their way. You did something good for this one, and that’s good karma out in the Universe.”
“I could use some good karma. I think I’m finally ready to dip a toe back into my actual profession again.”
Carolanne’s hands paused on the cookie cutter. “Oh?” Her tone was deceptively casual, but that careful, watchful manner was proof she was slipping into therapist mode.
You can take the therapist away from her couch... She didn’t suppose her sister would ever lose that training.
“I’ve been itching to do...something for a while now.” In truth, she’d been itchy in general, which wasn’t like her. “I’m so grateful to Mama Pearl for hiring me on, but I miss doing my thing. The creativity and challenge of it. So, I figured I’d use the holidays to test the waters.”
“How exactly?”
“I’ll offer up decorating services to people to help them get their businesses or homes all ready for the holidays. I’ve already got a notebook with ideas for various businesses downtown. It’s on tomorrow’s to do list to swing by and talk to the owners and give them my pitch. It’d be pro-bono work, just to spread some holiday cheer and show my skills to the town. And, if I’m lucky, it’ll help get me some referrals for some legitimate decorating jobs down the line.” She had bigger aspirations than that, but she hadn’t quite worked up the courage to go after them. Admitting that to Carolanne would inevitably steer the conversation toward the other fears she was avoiding, so Hannah popped a pecan into her mouth instead.
“Hands off the pecans until we’re done,” her sister ordered.
With an impish grin, Hannah grabbed one more on principle and made a show of chomping it.
“So you’ve decided to stay in Wishful instead of going back to Atlanta?”
That was something Hannah had given a great deal of thought over the past months. She’d loved the creative challenges of her job in Atlanta and loved the city she’d grown up in. But if she went back, she’d be starting over at the bottom of the heap, having to claw her way up all over again, along with all the other junior designers, not all of whom had her sense of fair play. Wishful had taken her in as much as her sister had after the accident. The people here had given her a place and purpose.
“Yeah, I think I have.” Maybe she wouldn’t have the kind of career opportunities here that she’d have in a big city, but she had other things that were just as valuable to her.
Carolanne fixed steady green eyes on her. “Is it because you really want to stay or because you’re afraid to leave?”