Building a Perfect Match. Arlene James

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ to find anything similar,” Bowen called out to him, following. He stopped and held the door open for Petra, who hurried through on her bare feet. He winked, as if to say that the boss was having a bad day.

       Petra had the sinking feeling that it was only going to get worse, and she proved entirely correct.

       The two men disagreed on everything from the depth of the carpet pile to the placement of light switches. Petra thought Garth would pop a blood vessel when it came to the issue of closets, of all things. The Vail didn’t have any, and Dale doubted that the historical society would approve of having them built.

       Garth finally turned on his heel and stormed off. Petra shot Dale Bowen an apologetic glance before hurrying after Garth in her killer shoes. This project was becoming more complicated by the moment, and she couldn’t help worrying.

      Please, Lord, she prayed, please help me work it all out. For once, Lord, help me get it right!

      * * *

       Bam! The pickup truck rocked as Dale slammed the door. He took a firm grip on the steering wheel with both hands and closed his eyes, calming himself.

      Okay, Lord, he thought, it’s obvious this job isn’t going to be easy.

       “Man,” he added aloud, “that guy rubs me the wrong way!”

       Sucking air in through his nose, Dale blew it out again through his mouth. An image of Special Assistant Petra popped up in his mind. Average height with a truly lovely face, she had captured his interest instantly. Unfortunately, she was obviously very “special” to Garth Anderton, even though he had to be forty if he was a day, and she couldn’t be older than her mid-twenties.

      Not that it’s any of my business, Dale admitted silently, frowning.

       Business. He’d somehow forgotten the importance of this job as soon as he’d laid eyes on the woman, which wasn’t like him at all, especially considering that business had been slow these past couple of years and the doctor had told his dad to take it easy. Sitting back in his seat, Dale closed his eyes again and began to pray.

      Lord, You know that we need this job. This one job could let Dad step back, maybe even retire, so please give me what it takes to see it through. Amen.

       Feeling better, Dale started up his white, double-cab truck and eased it out of the alley and onto the street flanking the downtown square with its turn-of-the-century, pink granite courthouse and circa 1930s storefronts. A few blocks later, he turned right onto Chatam Avenue then made a sharp left.

       He’d been guiding his truck through the black wrought iron gate and up the easy slope in the circular drive to the big antebellum mansion—built in 1860—on the hill for weeks now. Soon after Odelia Chatam and Kent Monroe, both in their seventies, had gotten engaged, the Chatam sisters had hired him to reconfigure several rooms into a suite for the newlyweds. Dale had been pleased to take on the job, but with the three sisters’ insistence that he not work before nine in the morning or after five in the afternoon, the project had been slow going.

       Still, the Chatam sisters were generous Christian women. His buddy Garrett Willows had worked as their gardener after he’d gotten out of prison, and the sisters had allowed Dale to take time away from the Chatam House renovation in order to help Garrett and his new wife open a florist shop and plant nursery in Kent Monroe’s old Victorian house. Then they’d helped Garrett get a much-deserved pardon.

       Pulling the truck through the porte cochere at the west side of the mansion, Dale parked it out of sight, then gathered his tools and let himself into the back hall through the yellow door. As was his custom, he stopped by the kitchen to elbow open the swinging door and let the cook know he was on the premises.

       “Hilda, I’m here.”

       “Well, that makes two of us, sugar,” she quipped, turning from the sink. As wide as she was tall, with lank, straight hair cropped just below her chin, she winked at him. “I’ll let the misses know.”

       “Thanks.”

       Backing out of the doorway, he continued down the hall to the end, only to turn right into another that flanked the massive marble-and-mahogany staircase, which anchored the foyer at the front of the house. Dale always looked up when he started the climb. He dearly loved the painted ceiling with its ruffled clouds and white feathers against a sunny blue backdrop. No one could tell him who the artist had been, but he’d certainly been a genius.

       The grand staircase, with its yellow marble steps and ornately carved mahogany banister, was an architectural wonder that few could appreciate more than the skilled carpenter who crossed the landing and went to work opening a new doorway into the unfinished suite.

       Dale managed the chore with a minimum of noise and mess, while wolfing down his lunch, answering numerous phone calls from other jobs and, if he were to be honest, thinking about the blonde whom he’d left back at the hotel. He couldn’t help wondering about her. She hadn’t worn a ring, so he assumed she was single, but that didn’t mean she was unattached. Anderton had made his interest in her clear enough.

       That didn’t mean they were involved, though.

       Neither did it mean that Dale ought to get involved with her himself. He wanted an old-fashioned Christian girl, like his mom, a homemaker who valued family above all else. All he knew about Petra was that he was attracted to her. Maybe he’d get a chance to know her better, and maybe he wouldn’t. That was up to God.

       Dale nailed the header in place with just enough time remaining in the workday to clean up the site before heading home. He pulled out his phone to call home and let everyone know that he was on his way. With his attention on his phone, he wandered out onto the broad landing toward the stairwell, only to bump into someone coming from the other direction.

       “Sorry!”

       Looking up, Dale meant to reply to the surprised female voice with an apology for not watching where he was going—and nearly dropped his phone, along with his jaw.

       Petra stood on the top step in her bare feet, one slender hand on the curled end of the banister, the other holding her black-and-white shoes by the heels. Her sleek ponytail lay across one shoulder.

       For a moment, Dale thought he’d conjured her up from his imagination, but then he backed up a step and watched recognition overtake her. Shock swiftly followed.

       He knew just how she felt, especially when she smiled.

      Chapter Two

      “You!” they both said. “What are you doing here?”

       Dale grinned. “I work here,” he supplied.

       At the same time, she said, “I live here.”

       They both laughed, and Dale spread his arms, trying to take in the situation. That simple act seemed to kick his brain into gear.

       “Did you say that you live here?”

       “That’s right,” she answered, nodding. “My aunts invited me to move in until the hotel is finished. Once I’m manager, I’ll find my own place.”

       “You’re a Chatam!” Dale declared, smacking himself in the forehead—with his phone, as it turned out.

СКАЧАТЬ