Given the flu running rampant through the area, those who wanted to attend the Trumanville Home Tour as usual could enter for a chance to do the regular home tour. If they won, it would cost ten dollars to tour. Those who didn’t win or who didn’t want to do the in-person tour, could do the virtual tour for five.
As always, proceeds would go to the local historical society.
“Are you sure you can do the digital tours?” Wendy asked as Dean drove them back toward downtown.
He chuckled. “Piece of cake. I’ll have to get some equipment sent in unless I can get my hands on it locally. Gavin can probably help.”
“Like what? Maybe I know someone who has what you need.”
Dean rattled off a list of things that sounded like computer equipment.
“Uh, yeah. I’m no help.” She glanced over at him. “But let me ask Cole. He’s a fancy New Yorker. Maybe he knows where to get that stuff.”
With another laugh, Dean pulled into a spot next to the KrazBnB. “I can get it by tomorrow or the next day. The videos don’t need to be done until next week, right?”
“No. The Tour is Saturday. The parade and festival are during the day then the Tour is that night. Usually, tickets are sold only on Saturday during the festival.” She climbed got out of the car, her mind still going. “We can sell the tickets until about half an hour before the festival ends, then do the drawing a few minutes later.”
“How many people usually do the tour?” He stood next to her at the door to the laundry area.
Wendy shrugged. “I have no idea. Dozens and dozens?”
“Not hundreds?”
She snorted but no water came out this time. “No. Maybe a hundred, but that’s about it. This is a small town, though we have quite a few lovely older homes and some newer homes that go all out to be on the Tour. We do attract people from all over, though. Maybe it is hundreds. Or at least one-fifty. I really have no idea.”
“What are you doing tomorrow?” He took a half-step closer.
“I have some windows to get done and work to finish to get ready for the festival.” She rested a hand on the door knob she’d already unlocked. “I’m not sure how long all of that will take, but probably most of the day.”
He looked hopeful, but she had to correct him.
“Like all day. From the time I wake up to the time I go to sleep. I have two sets of windows to do. That’s like six or seven hours. The rest of the day I’ll be working on signs and gift tags and things like that.” She wrinkled her nose. “Substitute teaching pays better, or at least more guaranteed, but I’m kind of glad the schools decided to take the week off.”
“I don’t blame you. Sounds like you have a lot on your plate.”
Did he move closer or was it her imagination?
“But you’ll still need to eat. Let me bring you dinner whenever you’re ready for it?”
She needed to ask Madi Beach about meet cutes and smoldering eyes. Surely Madi - the town writer - would know.
Because she was pretty sure she’d now seen smoldering eyes in person.
Wendy nodded. “All right. I’ll let you know when I think I’ll have a break.”
She wondered if he might move closer and kiss her, but instead, he took a step backward and smiled.
“I’ll see you tomorrow then.” He tipped an imaginary hat toward her. “Sleep well.”
Wendy managed a smile, barely, through the butterflies that had suddenly taken up residence in her abdomen. “Thank you. You, too.”
He winked at her before turning to go back to his loft.
Inside, Wendy did nothing but quickly get ready for bed and collapse. If she was going to get the windows done during daylight hours, she couldn’t sleep half the day away.
By nine the next morning, she’d eaten breakfast, done her morning devotional, worked on several signs that would need to dry between layers, then gathered her things to do the windows on the antique store.
As she got her first paint brush ready, she realized someone was watching her.
Wendy turned to see Dean standing there with his hands in his pockets.
“How can I help?”
She blinked. No one had ever asked her that before. “I’m not sure you can. Unless you know what you’re doing, it’s really a job for just the artist.”
“How about I get you a cup of coffee or hot chocolate to keep you warm while you work?”
The thought made her grin. “That you can do.”
He winked at her again and sauntered off.
Two winks in two days? Had she ever been winked at before in her life?
Shaking her head, Wendy tried to focus on creating snowmen. These snowmen would have outdoor antiques.
Somehow.
She didn’t quite know how yet.
No mistletoe this time.
Dean came back about the time she finished painting the snow on the ground at the bottom of the window.
He tilted his head. “It just looks like white lumps.”
Wendy started on the bottom circle of a snowman. “I’ll add detail later. It won’t look like that when I’m done.”
“I trust you.”
“Good.” She wiped the white paint on her thumb onto her shirt. This is why she wore old shirts despite her suspicion that Dean would show up at some point. Practicality outweighed her desire to wear something more flattering than a Trumanville Tigers shirt she’d had since her freshman year of high school.
After a sip of hot chocolate, she got back to work.
She didn’t expect Dean to stick around, but he chose to, sitting either on her step stool or the stepladder, whichever one she wasn’t using.
At times, companionable silence rested between them, but the rest of the time, they talked about anything and nothing and all of the things you talk about when you’re starting a new relationship - whether it’s a friendship or something more.
Wendy didn’t know which one this would be, but she hoped for something closer to the “more” end of the spectrum.
The real question was what did Dean want?
If the winks were any indication, maybe it wasn’t all one-sided.
There were a few meetings Dean should have joined via videoconference, but instead, he’d blew them off and spent the day shadowing Wendy.
Their conversations weren’t deep or overly meaningful, but they laughed a lot, and he learned about her.
About life in a small town.
He was on the verge of admitting, albeit grudgingly, that maybe small-town life wasn’t as bad as he’d thought.
Though he wouldn’t want to move permanently. Probably.
With the right incentive he might be able to be convinced to spend a fair amount of time there, though he’d have to keep a place in the city for work. Much of his work could be done from anywhere, though.
Didn’t Wendy say one of her friends married a New York businessman and they split their time between New York and Trumanville? Could he do the same?
Dean shook his head as Wendy wiped the paint off her hands with some baby wipes. He was getting a few giant steps ahead of himself.
“Why don’t we grab lunch before your next window?” He hoped she would agree.
“Sure.” She put the lid on her container full of paint bottles. “Can we grab something at the bakery though? I don’t have enough time for the diner.”