He ran his fingers through the hair at her temples. “Yeah. For me, it is.” Then he pulled her head down and kissed her deeply, his heart completely hers. He couldn’t remember ever being more content.

“It is for me, too,” she whispered. “Can we sleep now?”

He pulled her against him, her head resting on his arm, and holding her tight they drifted off to sleep. But not for long. Ellie was up, showered and pulling on jeans and a sweatshirt first thing in the morning. The smell of fresh coffee filled the small room and she jostled Noah awake. “Come on, don’t be a bum—I promised the kids we’d start poking around the new house as soon as everyone woke up.”

He rolled over with a loud moan and put the back of his hand over his eyes. “What’s the matter with you?” he asked.

“I’m so excited.” She laughed. “That house has been ours for a whole week and we haven’t had time to do anything to it yet! You said we’d get down there right away, as soon as we got married.”

He moaned again and rolled over. “My right away and your right away are at least a couple of hours apart…Aren’t you in the afterglow from a wedding night of magnificence?”

She giggled. “Not anymore. Come on, Noah. Don’t be lazy.”

“Lazy, she says,” he muttered, dragging himself out of bed. “There should be a warning attached to marrying an energetic younger woman…”

They went downstairs to Jo and Nick’s kitchen; the kids were just rising, so they were talked into more coffee and breakfast. By the time everyone was moving at a normal pace, Ellie was jittery with anticipation. She loaded a few things in the back of Noah’s truck—broom, mop, rags, detergent, scrub brushes, trash bags. Jo promised she and Nick would follow behind with the kids. So, on their first official day of married life, Ellie and Noah took off down the road to their new old house.

Ellie and Noah could hear the sound of heavy equipment well before they could see it, but neither said a word because they couldn’t imagine that it would have anything to do with them. The next thing they noticed was that the road to their house was difficult to navigate because it was lined with parked cars and trucks.

“What in the world…?” Ellie said. Noah edged his old truck closer, and the moment they broke through the trees they were both momentarily stunned. Their property was a beehive of activity. Someone was driving a large farm-size mower around the property. There were men on ladders propped up against the house; more men pounded hammers on the roof, and at ground level people were raking up the cuttings, hauling trash, scraping off old paint, replacing boards and sanding porch rails.

George was standing on the porch wearing a carpenter’s apron, looking very much at home. Noah walked up the porch steps. “What’s going on here?”

“Looks like your friends have decided to give you a hand to get you started. Don’t worry, Noah—there’s going to be plenty of work for you to do.” Then he grinned.

Paul Haggerty walked up behind Noah and Ellie, balancing a dozen or so long baseboards over one shoulder. “Morning, Noah, Ellie,” he said as he passed.

Inside the house they found Muriel up on a ladder, using a liquid chemical mixture to slowly remove years of white paint from a solid oak archway that separated the living room from the dining room. She had about two feet of the arch’s natural wood exposed. Walt was at work doing the same thing on the banister. “Hi, Ellie,” Muriel called from her place on the ladder. “I had to take paint off the most beautiful wood at my old house and, let me tell you, it looks awesome when it’s done! You’re going to love this when it’s stained and varnished. It won’t be quick, but it’s worth it. And there’s nothing we can do about the beveled stairs. Each step will have to be replaced from the wear, but it’s not a hard job. I can do it.”

Ellie’s mouth fell open. This was the woman who had been in movies and nominated for Oscars, and was most commonly seen on TV in strapless evening gowns and glittering jewels. And she was talking about replacing the wood on her steps for her? It was unreal.

Luke Riordan came out of the kitchen with his arms full of crinkling, old, rotting wallpaper he’d torn off. He dumped it in the empty dining room. “Morning,” he said. “Art,” he yelled back into the kitchen. “Can you get this pile of trash in the back of my truck? I’ll run by the dump on the way home.”

“Wow,” Ellie said. “Whose idea was this?”

“I don’t know,” Walt said. “Paul, whose idea was this?”

“Not sure. Jack’s maybe?”

Preacher walked out of the kitchen. “Mine,” he said indignantly. “I think it was my idea. We pitch in around here when it’s practical. We need to get you up and running before it gets any colder. Gotta replace all the window glass that’s cracked or broken, and the fireplaces need to be cleaned. You’re gonna need a new furnace I think—you’re on your own there. I don’t know anyone who does that, but I did get a friend from Clear River who said he’d come out this afternoon and get fifty years of soot out of those chimneys in the living and dining rooms. He’s gonna do it as a donation, just to help out. He’s probably got something he’s gonna ask you for, Noah. Like a wedding or funeral or baptism or something—as a rule he’s usually not that generous.”

Noah just laughed. “Hope he’s not planning a funeral. That doesn’t sound good.”

“Ellie, you should get some measurements,” Muriel said. “See what size appliances will work in that kitchen and maybe measure the windows for blinds and the floors for area rugs. It’s not going to take much to get this place habitable. But to get it pretty? That’s going to be a six-month project. But I can help. I love doing this stuff.”

Ellie walked toward Muriel’s ladder and looked up at her. Muriel wore work coveralls, boots, a ratty long-sleeved sweatshirt, gloves and a ball cap. “Muriel,” she said in awe. “You’re a movie star.”

“She’s also a crackerjack carpenter, painter and renovator. You should see what she did to her place, almost entirely alone,” Walt said.

“You were a wonderful help, Walt,” Muriel said. “Of course, you had ulterior motives, but that wasn’t a problem for me. Come see my restored house sometime, Ellie. I love showing it off.”

“Vanni wanted to be here to help, but she’s tied up with the kids, and they’d just be in the way,” Walt said. “Most of these guys have to work all week, but a few of us have time on our hands and will get back here after the weekend. Me. Muriel. George.”

“Someone call me?” George asked, sticking his head in the door.

“No, George. Get back to work,” Walt said.

Ellie turned around and leaned her face into Noah’s chest. He put his arms around her and felt her shoulders shake, heard her sniff. He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Don’t cry,” he whispered.

She lifted her head. “They’re so wonderful. How can they be this wonderful?”

He smiled. “I think they practice.”

Fourteen

Maureen Riordan heard from her son Luke about the rally of neighbors who surprised the Kincaids with a work party over the weekend. She was completely charmed by the notion. It sounded like the way things had been in her parents’ day—barn raisings and such. So on Monday morning she drove out to Virgin River. She had a cup of coffee with Luke, then, following his directions, she made her way out to the old house to see what progress had been made.

There was only one beat-up old truck outside the house. Then she heard the sound of a saw inside. For a moment she thought maybe it wasn’t such a great idea to poke around. Obviously a man was working the saw and she was a woman alone. But in a place where the community had pulled together to help one of their own, could there be danger? It must be just another good neighbor inside the house. The door stood open, even though it was cold outside.

Right inside the front door in what must be the living room, who should be standing at a circular saw cutting planks but George Davenport. She let out a breath. Well, avoiding him wasn’t going to work. She’d tried to give him a wide berth at the wedding party on Friday night, but he’d singled her out, complimented her, made small talk and even kissed the back of her hand! There seemed to be only two options to deal with the man. Face him head-on or leave town.

And there he stood, his white hair, which was not terribly thick, askew and spiking, wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, covered with sawdust. His face was tan—but hadn’t he said he’d come from Seattle? Cloudy, dreary Seattle? Despite herself, she noticed his shoulders were broad, his butt was solid and his legs were long. What was a man his age doing with broad shoulders and a solid butt? She wondered what he’d look like without a shirt and was immediately appalled that she would even think that!

The thought must have caused her to make a noise because he turned toward her. The smile that split his handsome face was bright. No slippery dentures there; his teeth were white and strong. He must have been good about brushing and flossing all through the years, probably the only thing they had in common.

“Mrs. Riordan,” he said. “What brings you here?”

“Curiosity,” she said. “My son Luke told me about all the activity here over the weekend and I thought it was such a wonderful thing that I just wanted to see it for myself.” She entered the house farther. “What is it you’re doing?”

“I’m cutting the boards for the new stairs. Noah will be along when he can clear some of his morning appointments. We’ll install the stairs and, later today and tomorrow, Muriel will help with the sanding, staining and varnishing.”

“Muriel?” Maureen asked.

“You’ve met Muriel St. Claire, haven’t you? She’s an ace woodworker and she completely restored an old farmhouse on the outskirts of town. She moved in right next to Walt Booth’s place, which is how they met. They’ve been a hot item for the past year.”

“Hot item?” she said. “For a year?” She frowned. “I guess I thought they’d been a couple for a long time.” Even though many of her female acquaintances found romance later in life, Maureen never really got used to the idea. Viv told her it was high time she dispelled the notion that romance was strictly for the very young. Still, when she thought about couples the age of Muriel and Walt getting together, she couldn’t help but think of it as more practical than passionate.

“Fairly recent, as I understand it,” George went on. “Walt was widowed several years ago. And while Muriel has never taken me into her confidence, the movie rags say she’s been married and divorced a number of times.” He grinned. “She must think the day she ran into Walt Booth—stable old war dog that he is—was one of the luckiest days of her life.”

“George, I probably owe you an apology,” Maureen said. “I don’t think I was as friendly as I could have been when we ran into each other at Jack’s a week or so ago. The fact is, I do remember meeting you at Luke’s wedding. I don’t know why I was acting as if I couldn’t remember you. It isn’t like me to play coy like that.”

“I knew that, Mrs. Riordan,” he said.

She was stunned. “You knew?”

He smiled gently. Kindly. “I saw it in your eyes,” he explained, then shifted his own back and forth, breaking eye contact, demonstrating what he saw. “And the moment I met you I knew you were more straightforward than that. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

She was a little uncomfortable now, in fact. She felt vulnerable, being found out before she even had a chance to confess. “And I was widowed quite a while ago.”