The Family Plan. Cathy McDavid

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      Sinbad pawed the ground, eager to start home.

      “Take it easy with this big boy for another week or two,” Chase said, still holding Jolyn’s leg. “Don’t gallop or jump him if you can avoid it.”

      “No problem.” She hadn’t done either of those things since the accident.

      “I’ll see you tonight, then.” He squeezed her calf, then stepped back.

      Jolyn waved. She didn’t trust herself to speak.

      Chapter Four

      Jolyn stepped back and out of the way as the last of the wet concrete was poured to create the foundation of Chase’s new clinic.

      A moment later, the friendly-faced young driver who’d made the delivery handed Jolyn a receipt attached to a clipboard. “If I could just get your signature, ma’am, I’ll be outta here.”

      She inspected the quantity and the total dollar amount before signing off. The delivery charge was twice the normal rate, but expected. Traveling the road from Pineville to Blue Ridge was both hazardous and time-consuming, forcing her to pay a premium.

      “Thank you.” She returned the clipboard after removing the customer copy for her records.

      “My pleasure.” The young man’s gaze lingered on her a second or two longer than necessary before he turned and left.

      He wasn’t the only one to stare at her with undisguised interest. Jolyn had received similar looks from the clerk at the county office when she pulled the permit, two of the framers and the guy who operated the front-end loader when they’d excavated the ground. His daughter had once competed against Jolyn in barrel-racing events.

      Evidently, men in these parts weren’t accustomed to dealing with a woman contractor. Their interest ranged from blatantly sexual to mildly curious. And while no one had shown her any disrespect, a few of the men had been borderline condescending. If that was the worst treatment she received, she’d consider herself lucky.

      Jolyn walked the perimeter of the foundation and watched the trio of finishers with their long-handled bull floats transform the rough bed of concrete into a smooth, clean expanse. In this heat, the concrete would solidify within a couple of hours. Tomorrow, they would start framing the exterior walls.

      Confident everything was going well, she went to her truck. Opening one of the side-mounted toolboxes, she dug around for a tape measure and a level, which, to her annoyance, weren’t in the last place she’d left them.

      She heard Mandy’s small voice behind her.

      “Whatcha doing?”

      “Hey there.” Jolyn extracted the tape measure with a triumphant grin. “I’m looking for this. And a level. What are you doing?”

      “Nothing. I’m bored.”

      Two dogs sat at Mandy’s heels, purple and pink leashes attached to their collars. One was short, squat and pitifully ugly, the other a shepherd mix with half of one ear missing. As a kid, Chase was forever dragging home stray or injured animals. Jolyn suspected not much had changed in that regard.

      “Can I watch you work for a while?”

      “If it’s okay with your dad.” She thought Mandy looked more unhappy than bored.

      “He’s still inside talking to Mrs. Payne. She’s watching me today,” Mandy said. “After she’s done washing the dishes and folding the laundry, she’s taking me to her house. She doesn’t have satellite TV, you know.”

      “Bummer.” Jolyn resumed rummaging in the toolbox for the level.

      “Yeah.” Mandy sighed.

      “What about games?” Jolyn asked, wondering if the lack of satellite TV was the only reason for Mandy’s dejection.

      “Mrs. Payne doesn’t play games. She sews quilts.”

      Jolyn finally located the level, which was buried at the very bottom. “Let me guess. You don’t like to sew quilts.”

      “I like to dance.”

      “I saw you at the recital last week. You were good.” When Jolyn crossed the yard to the concrete pad, Mandy and the dogs followed her.

      “Are you a dancer?”

      “Me? No.” Jolyn caught the attention of the closest finisher and pointed to a rough patch that needed smoothing. “I took lessons for a while, then quit.” She winked at Mandy. “I didn’t have your talent.”

      “Dad says you and him used to show horses together. Mommy, too.”

      “That’s right,” Jolyn said distractedly. With some difficulty, she knelt on the ground and lowered her head until it was even with the pad, visually inspecting it. “Your mom and I were best friends.”

      “You were!”

      Jolyn cranked her head around. “Your dad didn’t tell you?”

      “No.” Mandy’s face reflected a mixture of surprise, delight and disappointment. “He said you were friends, but not best friends.”

      “Since we were younger than you.” Jolyn tried to stand but her right leg refused to support her weight. Wincing with pain, she braced her hands on her bent left knee and waited a moment to catch her breath before trying to rise again.

      “You okay?” Mandy asked.

      “My leg’s a little sore today.”

      Sore didn’t begin to describe how it felt. Jolyn had been pushing herself hard for weeks now—driving great distances, walking more than usual, tackling the repairs at Cutter’s Market and her new office and riding Sinbad whenever she had a spare hour.

      “Need help?” Mandy took Jolyn by the elbow and tugged.

      Despite the little girl’s spindly arms, she impressed Jolyn by managing to hoist her to her feet.

      “Those dance lessons have obviously paid off.”

      “What?” Mandy furrowed her small, freckled brow.

      “I was making a joke.” Huffing, Jolyn smoothed the girl’s hair. “Evidently a bad one.”

      “Dad says you hurt your leg when you fell from your horse but I’m not supposed to ask you about it because you might be…” She scrunched her mouth to one side. “Sensitive.”

      Jolyn laughed. “You can ask me any questions you want. I don’t mind.”

      “I’d rather you tell me about my mother.”

      She really should get back to work, but the desperation on Mandy’s face tugged at Jolyn’s heart. She didn’t understand how SherryAnne could leave her child behind and visit only once during the last two years. Surely professional rodeo riders got vacations once in a while.

      “You СКАЧАТЬ