as always, this time in a pair of gray wool slacks that made her legs look a mile long, paired with a silk shirt that had probably cost the earth.
Glancing past Sandra, she spotted Tyler standing in the doorway. So he had come down. He looked perfectly composed in the crowd of strangers—self-possessed, as if he carried his confidence with him no matter where he was.
She’d seen him ruffled at moments that afternoon, though, and she’d guess he didn’t often show that side to people. The derelict house had affected him more than she’d expected.
And there had been an undercurrent when he talked about his mother, something more than grief, she thought.
Sandra had moved to the window, peering out at the patio and garden. “I suppose you’ll be decorating the garden for the open house.”
“White lights on the trees, and possibly colored ones on the big spruce.”
“It would be more effective without the security lights,” Sandra said. “You could turn them off during the house tour hours. And maybe put a spotlight on the gazebo.”
“I don’t want to draw attention to the gazebo. I’d be happy to demolish it completely.”
“You wouldn’t have to do something that drastic.”
She turned at the sound of Tyler’s voice, smiling her welcome. “What would you suggest, other than a stick of dynamite? Sandra Whitmoyer, I’d like to introduce Tyler Dunn. He owns the Hostetler place, down the road from us.”
Sandra extended her hand. “Welcome to Churchville. Everyone is curious about what you intend for the property. Well, not my husband, of course. As a busy physician, he doesn’t have time for many outside interests.”
Bradley Whitmoyer was as self-effacing a man as she’d ever met, but his wife had appointed herself his one-woman press agency.
Tyler responded, politely noncommittal, and turned back to Rachel. “I wouldn’t recommend high explosives for the gazebo. You wouldn’t like the results.”
“I don’t like it the way it is.”
He smiled down at her. “That’s because it’s in the wrong place. If you moved it to the other side of the pond, it would be far enough away to create a view.”
“Well, I still think you should decorate it for the house tour.” Sandra put down her cup. “I have to go. There’s Jeff looking for me. It was nice meeting you, Mr. Dunn.” She nodded to Rachel and crossed the room toward the hallway.
“Is that her husband, the physician?” Tyler’s tone was faintly mocking.
“No, his brother. Jeff Whitmoyer. He has a small construction company. It looks as if he didn’t find it necessary to change before coming by for Sandra.”
Jeff’s blue jeans, flannel shirt and work boots were a sharp contrast to Sandra’s elegance. There was a quick exchange between them before Sandra swept out the hallway.
Rachel dismissed them from her mind and turned back to Tyler. “About the gazebo—”
“Single-minded, aren’t you?” His smile took any edge off the comment. “It might be possible to move it, rather than destroy it. If you like, I’ll take a look while I’m here.”
“I’d love to find a solution that makes everyone happy. Grams never liked the gazebo at all—she feels it doesn’t go with the style of the house. But Andrea thinks it should stay because Grandfather had it put up as a surprise for Grams.”
“And it’s your job to keep everyone happy?” The corners of his mouth quirked.
“Not my job, exactly.” Every family had a peacemaker, didn’t they? She was the middle one, so it fell to her. “My sister says I let my nurturing instincts run amok, always trying to help people whether they want it or not.”
“It’s a nice quality.” Those deep-blue eyes seemed to warm when they rested on her. “I wouldn’t change if I were you.”
“Thank you.” Ridiculous, to be suddenly breathless because a man was looking at her with approval. “And thank you for the offer.”
He shrugged. “It’s nothing. We’re neighbors, remember?”
It was what she’d said to him, but he seemed to invest the words with a warmth that startled her.
Careful, she warned herself. It wouldn’t be a good idea to start getting too interested in a man who’d disappear as soon as his business here was wound up.
Rachel did not like climbing ladders. Any ladder, let alone this mammoth thing that allowed her to reach the top of the house. Unfortunately, there didn’t seem to be another way of putting up the outside lights anytime soon.
Grams had suggested hiring someone to do the decorating, but Grams didn’t have a grasp on how tight money was right now. Rachel could ask a neighbor for help, of course, but this was a business. It didn’t seem right if she couldn’t pay.
But she really didn’t like being up on a ladder.
She leaned out, bracing herself with one hand on the shutter, and slipped the strand of lights over the final hook. Breathing a sigh of relief, she went down the ladder. In comparison to that, doing the windows should be a breeze.
Reaching the ground, she took a step back, reminding herself of just how many windows there were. Well, maybe not a breeze, but she could do it.
And what difference would it make, the voice of doubt asked. You have one whole guest at the moment.
Tyler had gone off to Lancaster this morning to see the attorney who’d handled his grandfather’s estate. He’d seemed eager to resolve the situation with the farm. Well, why not? He probably had plans for Christmas in Baltimore.
Once he left, she’d have zero guests. There were a few people scheduled for the coming weekends, but not nearly enough. They’d hoped for a good holiday season to get them through the rest of the winter, but that wasn’t happening.
If she could get some holiday publicity up on the inn’s Web site, it might make all the difference. Andrea had intended to do that, but the rush to get ready for the wedding had swamped those plans. And she could hardly call her big sister on her honeymoon to ask for help. They had already invested all they could afford in print ads in the tourist guides, and the Web site was the only option left.
She fastened a spray of pine in place, taking satisfaction in the way the dark green contrasted with the pale stone walls. This she could do. Decorate, cook gourmet breakfasts, work twenty-four/seven when it was necessary—those were her gifts.
Her gaze rested absently on the church across the street, its stone walls as gold as the inn. Someone had put evergreen wreaths on the double doors, and the church glowed with welcome. That was what she’d sensed when she’d come back to Churchville. Welcome. Home. Family. Community. She’d lost that when Daddy left and their mother had taken them away from here.
She paused with her hand on the burgundy ribbon she was tying. Lord, this venture can’t be wrong, can it? It seems right. Surely You wouldn’t let me have a need so strong
