North Country Dad. Lois Richer

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СКАЧАТЬ sorry. I’ve heard that’s happening a lot lately in rural areas.” Sympathy shone in those amazing eyes. “No family?”

      “I’m afraid my stepdaughters are stuck with only me.” Grant glanced down.

      “I’m sure they’re lucky to have you.” A soft look washed over Dahlia’s face when her glance again drifted to the sleeping children. Then her mouth tightened. “Though if family doesn’t offer the support it should, sometimes it’s better to be alone.”

      Though Grant totally agreed with her, Dahlia’s voice held a note of longing that made him wonder how her family had let her down. In fact, he’d begun to wonder a lot of things about this beautiful woman.

      “How did you happen to end up in the hardware business?” A shadow fell across her face. “If that’s not prying,” he added.

      “It’s not. Anyone in Churchill could tell you and probably will if you wait long enough. Everyone knows everyone’s business.” She looked completely comfortable with that, but Grant’s worry hackles went up.

      What if everyone noticed his shortcomings as a father? Maybe then they’d think he couldn’t work with the boys at Lives.

      He desperately needed that job.

      “Actually I’m—I was an architect.” She paused and he knew there was something she wasn’t saying. “I came to Churchill to be closer to nature while I do something worthwhile with my life.” Dahlia made a face. “Does that sound all noble and self-sacrificing? It isn’t meant to be. The truth is I left home after a split with my fiancé and my family. A friend told me about Churchill, and here I am.”

      Something about the way she said the words gave Grant the impression that there was a lot more to her story. He wanted to hear the rest, but he could hardly ask her to confide in him. They’d only just met.

      “Judging by what I saw when I came for an interview last month, Churchill is an interesting place.” Grant struggled to sound positive as a thousand doubts about this move plagued him again.

      “Churchill is isolated, which makes it an expensive place to live,” Dahlia conceded. “The winters are cold and long, and there aren’t a lot of the conveniences people farther south take for granted. But there are tremendous benefits to living here.”

      “I’m sure,” he murmured, while wondering what they were.

      “We live with polar bears, belugas and a lot of other wildlife in gorgeous terrain,” Dahlia bragged with a toss of her curls. “In case it doesn’t show, I love Churchill. There’s no place else I’d rather call home. If you give it a chance, I think you’ll like it, too.”

      Since Grant and the twins didn’t have anywhere else to go, he’d have to like the place.

      “When we first left Thompson, I noticed you working on something.” He hadn’t wanted to ask before but now he glanced at the roll into which she’d stuffed her papers. “Blueprints?”

      “Yes. Every year I sponsor a community project. This year I’m going hands-on with one at Lives.” Her smile dazzled him. “Would you like to see my plans?”

      She sounded so enthusiastic his curiosity grew.

      Dahlia popped off the lid without waiting for an answer. Her hands almost caressed the vellum as she unrolled it. She shifted so Grant could look without moving and perhaps wakening the twins. He gave the drawings a cursory glance. Surprised he took a second look then blinked at Dahlia.

      “A racetrack?”

      “Close.” Her hair shimmered under the dim lights. She grinned with excitement as she leaned near. “It’s a go-kart track,” she whispered, obviously not wanting the other passengers to hear.

      “Go-karts?” Grant frowned. “For the town?”

      She shook her head slowly. “For the boys at Lives Under Construction. And their guests,” she amended.

      “Good for you.” He wasn’t sure what else to say. From what he’d seen of the place a month ago, Lives Under Construction needed some work. But somehow he’d never thought go-karts would be a priority. “Very nice.”

      “Don’t ever try to fake it, Grant. You are so not good at it.” Laughter bubbled out of her. She clapped a hand over her mouth to smother it, her eyes wide as she scanned the car to see if she’d woken any sleeping passengers. When she spoke again, her soft voice brimmed with suppressed mirth. “I know what you think. Go-karts are frivolous and silly, and they are. But they’re going to be so much fun!”

      Grant didn’t know how to respond and Dahlia noticed. Her face grew serious.

      “You don’t approve.” She sighed. “The boys are sent to Lives by the justice system to do time for their crime. And they should.” She chose her words with care. “But many of them come from places where they’ve never been allowed to dream or imagine anything other than the life from which they’ve escaped.” She gauged his reaction with those hazel eyes. “Do you know what I mean?”

      “Fathers were in jail, mothers were in jail, kids follow the pattern.” He nodded somberly.

      “That, or they were beaten or abused, or forced onto the streets. Or any other horror you can name. Not that it excuses their crime.” Dahlia’s tone was firm. “But that’s not my point.”

      Clearly Dahlia Wheatley had thought through her plan very carefully, but Grant couldn’t figure her out. An architect running a hardware store who wanted to build a go-kart track for some problem kids.

      Unusual didn’t begin to describe this woman.

      “I want to get the boys to dream, to visualize a future that they can create themselves.” A wistful smile spread across her face. “I want these boys to reach for something more than what they’ve had.”

      “Why go-karts? I mean, how will go-karts help them do that?”

      “I told you. It’s a community project.”

      “But it’s not really for the community, is it?” he pointed out quietly.

      “In a way it’s for the community.” Her eyes darkened to forest-green, her frustration obvious. “I want to do it because there was a time someone helped me see beyond my present circumstances. And besides, this project will give the boys focus and keep them out of trouble.”

      “Has there been trouble?” In all his research about Laurel Quinn and Lives Under Construction, Grant had read nothing negative.

      “Not so far,” Dahlia admitted. “But the current group of boys is more troubled than previous residents at Lives have been. Especially one boy, Arlen.”

      As she nibbled off the last vestige of her pale pink lipstick, a thoughtful looked transformed her face.

      “Arlen?” he asked.

      “Yes.” She slid the drawings back into the tube, then leaned forward. “Most of the kids in town have access to quads in summer and snow mobiles in winter.”

      “Quads? СКАЧАТЬ