Shadow of Turning. Valerie Hansen

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СКАЧАТЬ turn. It didn’t even jiggle.

      Nate was considering abandoning the enormous box when its owner returned.

      “Sorry,” she said pleasantly, “I forgot to mention that that door sticks. You have to give it a nudge to get it to open. Here. I’ll do it.”

      There wasn’t enough room between the parked vehicles for Nate to step back, let alone turn and put down the box. Consequently, he found himself leaning awkwardly with the backs of his legs pressed against the bumper and grille of the truck next in line, while the woman wedged herself in front of him and the box to fiddle with the van door.

      She was a little older than she’d seemed at first glance, he decided, probably nearly his age, although with her sun-streaked, golden hair pulled back in a ponytail and no makeup, it was difficult to tell. One thing was certain, she wasn’t afraid of hard work. It looked as though there was already enough heavy furniture crammed into her van to give anyone a good workout, let alone a woman her size.

      She turned and tried to relieve him of the box. “Okay. I’ll take that now.”

      Nate’s ingrained chivalry had kicked in. “No problem. I’ve got it. Where shall I put it?”

      Her laugh was light and full of cheerful self-deprecation. “Beats me. I think I may have overbought.”

      “I have to agree with you there. I take it you have a business?”

      “Yes.” She pushed up the arms of her sweatshirt and extended her right hand. “I’m Chancy Boyd. Chancy’s Second Chances is my antique store. Maybe you’ve seen it. I’m one block off the square, behind the grocery market.”

      “Sorry, no,” Nate said. “I’m just visiting.” He managed to shake her hand by shifting the box and temporarily supporting it with his forearm. “Nate Collins. My grandparents live right down the road.”

      “Hester and Ted? You’re a Collins? Nice to meet you! Your grandparents are dears. No wonder you’re being so helpful. It must run in the family.”

      Nate’s guilty conscience kicked him in the gut. Had he lived in a bustling city so long that he’d forgotten his upbringing? Apparently so.

      He hoisted the cardboard box aloft and managed to wedge it into the cargo space above a carved dresser. “Actually,” he said as he brushed off his hands and the front of his lightweight jacket, “I got out of Ted’s truck to yell at you for walking in front of me. You might have been run over.”

      Her bluish hazel eyes twinkled above a mischievous grin. “In that case, thanks for not smashing me flat.”

      “You’re welcome.” Nate was rapidly losing his annoyance in the face of this young woman’s upbeat attitude. “So, how much more do you have to load?”

      “You don’t want to know.” She made a face. “I’m sure I’ll have to make two trips to the shop to carry it all. They started bunching little items in piles to get rid of everything at the end and I wound up with a lot more than I intended to buy.”

      She scanned the roadside. “You know, if we used your pickup truck to carry the excess we’d be done in no time. Where did you park it?”

      “I didn’t. I told Ted to take it and go on home.”

      “Bummer.” Her forehead wrinkled with obvious thought. “Say, since I’ve already settled my bill with the auctioneer, why don’t we drive over to their house to see if Ted minds if we borrow it? What do you think?”

      Nate raised an eyebrow. He had no intention of telling her what he was actually thinking because it was anything but complimentary. He knew that helping a neighbor was customary in these parts but that didn’t mean he was ready to drop everything and come to her aid, even if her smile and dimples were pretty persuasive.

      “Aren’t you afraid to go off and leave your stuff unattended?” he asked.

      Chancy pulled a face. “I suppose you do have a good point, even in a place like Serenity. But borrowing the truck would be faster than my going back to the shop and unloading enough stuff to make room for the rest in the van.”

      “Okay.” Nate saw no graceful way to turn her down without sounding snobbish. He cleared off the van’s passenger seat by gathering up a stack of framed photos and climbed in. “Then let’s go. I’ll just hold these while you drive. We can be back in a jiffy.”

      “Right. Thanks!” She got behind the wheel, fired up the motor and cautiously pulled into traffic.

      Habit made Nate glance in the rearview mirror on his side. The crowd was breaking up and other vehicles were also trying to join the outflow. Several car lengths back a thin, weary-looking woman wearing a bandanna around her long, dark hair darted into the middle of the street and stopped to stare after them.

      Nate saw a car bearing down behind her. His breath caught. As he watched, she apparently came to her senses, whirled and stepped out of the way at the last instant.

      “I don’t believe it,” he muttered.

      “What’s the matter?”

      “Nothing, now. I almost saw an accident. Don’t you people ever look when you cross the street?”

      Chancy laughed. “You’re definitely not from around here, are you?”

      “How’d you guess?”

      “It was easy. Didn’t you visit your grandparents when you were a boy?”

      Nate sobered. “As a matter of fact, I lived with them for close to a year when I was finishing high school.”

      He saw her brow knit. Then, her eyes widened and she stared over at him. “Nate? You’re Nasty Nathaniel? I don’t believe it!”

      He huffed. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been called that. How nice of you to remember.”

      “Hey, I’m sorry. It’s just that all the girls my age used to have terrible crushes on you. I think our parents gave you that nickname to scare us, which had the opposite effect, of course. You disappeared when I was in the eighth grade. What happened?”

      “I joined the Marines and then went on to college and got my degree in meteorology. That’s—”

      “I know. You’re a weatherman.” She laughed softly. “I suppose you thought I’d say you studied meteors. Does that happen often?”

      “All the time.”

      “Then it’s my pleasure to prove we’re not all country-bumpkins around here, even if we don’t always look both ways before crossing the street.”

      TWO

      Chancy pulled up the winding, dusty drive and stopped her van in front of the two-story Collins farmhouse. It was a relic of a bygone era with the same kind of charm as the quaint antiques that filled her shop.

      Hester had planted tall, colorful hollyhocks along a southwest-facing wall. The pale pink peonies were almost ready to flower and clematis vines had begun to creep up the archway framing the access to the СКАЧАТЬ