Paul had told her not to dress up, that the trailer where he kept his office was pretty rugged. She’d usually worn business attire, either skirts or slacks, to the Haggerty Construction office. In the course of a typical day she’d run into salesmen, customers, decorators, investors and developers. Paul told her the only people she was likely to run into besides himself in that trailer were crew.

She took a cup of coffee along for the ride as she followed his directions. And there it was, the trailer, sitting on a large lot that held two houses in progress. It was actually a single-wide mobile home; she assumed the bedrooms would be offices and that there would be a kitchen and bathroom.

There was one truck parked at the trailer, and it wasn’t Paul’s. She glanced at her watch. Seven forty-five. In the construction world, that was late. Not for the office staff, of course, but the crew usually got started as soon as they had light. Here she’d been trying to impress him by being early, and there didn’t seem to be anyone here to impress.

Inside she found a man seated at what would pass for a kitchen table—a big slab of plywood balanced on sawhorses. He had a cup of coffee and appeared to be leafing through plans, but stood as she entered. “Hi,” he said. “I’m Dan Brady, one of Paul’s foremen. He went to meet a crew at another job and asked me to hang out until you got here. Make yourself at home. His office is down the hall,” he said, pointing. “He must be putting you in the room next to that because there’s a desk in there. It’s old and kind of dirty and you might have to clean it up and maybe put a shim under one leg of it, but it hasn’t been spoken for. Must be yours.” He put out his hand.

She felt herself smile. The whole place was a wreck, messy and mud-tracked. There was a thirty-cup coffeemaker on the kitchen counter, covered with fingerprints. That would explain the tracking of mud. “I’m Leslie Petruso. Let me guess, the guys grab a cup of coffee in here.” And then she took his hand in greeting.

“Especially when it’s cold. When it’s nice out, they’re more likely to take a break sitting on the back of their trucks or something. It looks a little worse than usual, what with the rain. I hope you’re not completely disgusted.”

She laughed. “I’ve been working for a construction company for ten years now, so every now and then I did have to visit a job site. Nice to meet you, Dan.”

He indicated her cup with a jut of his chin. “Can I warm that up for you?”

“Thanks,” she said, handing it to him. “So, did Paul say what he’d like me to do?”

Dan gave the cup back, refreshed. “He said you’d know what to do. He carries his laptop around in the truck with him, but there’s a paper schedule on his desk. I’m waiting for a crew to work on interiors on these two houses and Paul will get here when he gets here. Will you be all right if I get to work?”

“You bet. Don’t worry about me.”

He smiled at her. “Welcome aboard, Leslie. We’ll all be happy if Paul has a little help organizing the paperwork.”

“Gets a little behind on that, does he?” she asked on a laugh.

“He’s a builder,” Dan said with a grin. “It’s hard to keep him in the office. I’ll be in the house on the left, if you need me.”

“Not to worry. I’m going to poke around Paul’s desk and see if I can make sense of anything.”

“Go for it,” Dan said with a salute.

Leslie took her time looking around after Dan left. She didn’t concentrate on Paul’s desk or even on his office—there was plenty of time for that. She opened every cupboard and closet in the trailer before she attempted Paul’s desk. And it happened spontaneously—she wiped out the sink, which led to scrubbing the countertop, which led to first sweeping, then mopping the kitchen floor. She filled the sink with soapy water, and, with rag or mop in hand, she moved through the place with a vengeance.

By the time Paul showed up at around ten, the muddy tracks and finger smears had disappeared. Even the stainless-steel thirty-cup coffeemaker was shining. And the coffee in it was fresh. “Whoa,” he said.

She straightened her spine and blew a curl of hair off her forehead. “Prepare your crews for intensive training—they’re going to learn to keep things clean around here.”

“Oh, they know how,” he said. “When we turn over a house, you could eat off the floor....”

“Yeah? Really?” she asked. “Because if you ate off that bathroom floor, you’d be dead in ten seconds. I’m not cleaning it. It’s vile. The next man who comes in here with a need for it is getting the job. And then they’re going to keep it clean because I can’t even think about putting my—” she cleared her throat in lieu of a key word and added “—on it.”

The door opened and a man looked in with blue eyes that almost knocked her out. “Oh. Excuse me. I should’ve knocked....”

Paul laughed and kind of rocked back on his heels. “Not a problem, come on in. The new secretary was instructing me in keeping a clean shop.”

“New?” he asked.

Paul didn’t respond to the question but stuck out a hand. “Paul Haggerty. How can I help you?”

“Conner Danson,” he said, accepting the handshake. “A friend of mine said you might have some work....”

“Would that be Brie?” he asked.

“That’s her. Old friend of mine. My last boss shut down....”

“She said something about that. And you’re friends from college?”

Conner smiled. “I took a few classes after high school, but I’m not a college man. I quit, joined the army for a couple of years, then apprenticed with a carpenter. Custom kitchens and bathrooms.”

Paul gestured to an album Conner held under one arm. “I bet you have some sample photos I can look at.”

“You bet,” he said, handing over the album.

Paul opened it and began leafing through the photos, Leslie looking over his shoulder. She kept glancing up at Conner—short brown hair, tanned face, thick eyelashes, goatee…very handsome. She’d like another look at his eyes; the blue was almost shocking.

“Wow,” she said of the pictures. “Very nice work. And you say your boss shut down?”

“Not a great time for custom builders right now.”

“This work is so pretty,” she said. “Did you give any thought to going out on your own?”

“Lots of carpenters and refinishers out of work right now,” he said with a shrug. “I contacted everyone I knew and Brie said…” He didn’t finish but let it hang in the air.

“I have one good interiors man, my foreman. He’s a good leader and can usually handpick crew to work with him, but I bet he’d be happy to have some talent like this to partner up with.” Paul closed the album and handed it back. “I have enough contracts for custom buildings and remodels to employ you for as long as six months, but I can’t guarantee any more than that.”

“I’ll start with that,” Conner said.

“Thing is, this is the kind of stuff I like to do,” Paul said. “But if I spend too much time on the detail work the big picture gets shortchanged.”

“I’d be happy to watch your details,” Conner said. “Besides, I don’t know if I’ll take to this place for the long-term. I’m a city boy. More or less.”

“From?”

Conner answered according to his new bio. “Colorado Springs. If you don’t mind me asking, how is it you have enough work to take on one more hire in a little place like this?”

“A combination of things,” Paul said. “This place was a little light on general contractors when I first got here—not a lot of competition. And, because of the kind of place it is, beautiful and with a distinct shortage of industry, the only people who move here come because they can. Take my father-in-law, retired general—he found this place because it was perfect for hunting and keeping his horses. His lady friend is a semiretired actress—also loves hunting and has dogs and horses. Then there’s Jack of Jack’s Bar—not so rich and important, but a hardworking man, a retired marine who saved a couple of bucks and wanted to build his wife a nice house to raise their family.... You get the idea. People are here on purpose. And they tend to build or remodel the homes they’ll have forever, homes they’ll leave their children.... I love making homes for generations. My dad taught me that.”

“And you’re here because…?” Conner asked.

“That’s easy. My wife. Before she was my wife she was my best friend’s wife, and I gave my word if anything happened to him in Iraq I’d take care of her and their baby. The worst happened and I kept my word, but it was no sacrifice. I’ve always loved Vanni. She’s expecting our third now. We just found out.”

“Wow, congratulations,” Conner said, dropping his gaze to the floor. He couldn’t make eye contact with either of them. What he’d seen in the bar the night before sure didn’t pay a tribute to the wife Paul had “always loved.” He suspected his new boss was fooling around with the secretary. He’d seen them together at the bar.

“Now, I’m gonna need some information. Or—make that Leslie here is going to need some information so we can set up some benefits, take care of your payroll, the basics. And while you fill out her forms, I’m going to clean the bathroom.”

“I really didn’t mean you had to do it,” Leslie said rather sheepishly.

“Hey, the buck stops here,” Paul said. “I should’ve made sure it was kept clean. Vanni wouldn’t even come out here—she made me take the paperwork home. I’ll clean it and I’ll make sure it stays clean.” He grinned and put an arm around her shoulders. “The employment applications and forms are in the lower left drawer.”

“I’ll take care of it,” she said. And she smiled warmly at Paul, then Conner. And when she caught Conner’s eyes with hers, there was a zing. A spark.

Three

After filling out some paperwork, Conner walked across a muddy lot to a house that was nearly finished and introduced himself to Dan Brady.

“Oh, hey,” Dan said, stretching out a hand. “Paul mentioned something about a cabinet guy heading our way!”

“I hope that’s me,” he said, thinking, I used to be Dan, Uncle Danny. But he was Conner now—a change that would probably be permanent. “I’m supposed to work with you. What are we doing here?”

Dan spread out his plans on a piece of wood set atop the base for a kitchen island. “Granite countertops, walnut cabinets with glass insets, matching bathroom counters with granite carved sinks and identical cabinets—no glass insets in the bathroom.”

Conner gave a nod. “This is pretty high-end for me. I’ve done it, but it’s been a while. I hope you don’t mind if I ask for advice here and there?”

“I’ll mind if you don’t. I’d rather help you do it right for the homeowner than have to go back and redo. Let’s get it right the first time. Any questions, spit ’em out.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that.”

“I appreciate it more,” Dan said. “We’re on time and on budget because we build smart.”

“I’ll try to keep up with you,” Conner said.

Conner hadn’t been on a building crew in a long time, but he’d been involved in building in every other way. He’d built all his own displays, given classes to homeowners who’d been attempting their own renovations, instructed carpenters who’d been after something new and upscale. But of course the business of retailing had been too consuming to allow extra time for building, except for the things he’d built for his nephews—their backyard play set, shelves, cabinets, race car bed frames.

How he missed them! But having his hands on the wood was reassuring and felt good. Measuring, cutting, planing, nailing, sanding…it was therapeutic. While he couldn’t really let his mind wander too much if he was going to do a good job, it was easy to take a little think time while he worked with his hands. This had always been his magic bullet—carpentry. Every so often he’d glance over at Dan to check his progress and mastery. The man’s artistry shone through in no time.

“How long you been doing this, bud?” Conner asked.

“Oh, forever. My dad was a builder. We built the house we lived in, one room at a time. Really tough father, but outstanding builder. He was my first boss.”

“I lost my dad twelve years ago,” Conner found himself saying. And then he thought about how easy it was to just talk about himself, his authentic self. He wondered if he’d always been that way without realizing it. But of course he had—he’d never had anything to hide before. Would a clever person be able to piece together a million details and discover him? But still he added, “He was tough, too. Good but tough. How long have you worked for Haggerty?”

“Few years,” Dan said. “He’s solid. Good man.” Dan stood tall and said, “But don’t get the idea that just because he’s nice, he’s soft or easy. With him you earn your pay. And if you don’t, you’re gone fast. I repeat, fast.”

Conner straightened. “You warning me for a reason?”

“Not that I can see, but a friendly word here and there never hurts. What brings you to the mountains?”

Conner gave him the standard line. Maybe it would even begin to feel natural.