He didn’t want to live anywhere else, and if this rich doctor client of Mike’s wanted to preserve some of the town’s unique beauty by restoring Missy Saunders’s old Victorian, then he should be willing to help out—a little, anyway.
“I’ll see what I can do about an estimate, Mike.”
“Great! I knew I could rely on you, buddy. Can I have it first thing tomorrow?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No, I’m serious. This is urgent.”
Jack sighed. Mike was certainly keen to impress his client. “You seem to forget there’s more than the carpentry to quote on. There’s also, plumbing, electrical, roofing—”
“Yeah, yeah. A guesstimate will be fine. I just need something!”
Jack shook his head. Mike wasn’t going to quit nagging until he agreed. “I’ll get it to you by noon. How’s that sound? And listen, it’s just an estimate for comparison purposes. I really don’t have the time to do the work. I’ve made a promise to Adam and Carly.”
“Yeah, yeah. Listen, I gotta go.” He suddenly cut the connection.
Jack stared at his cell phone. For someone who claimed he didn’t have enough paying clients, Mike sure was busy. Since moving back to town from a big practice in Colorado Springs, the guy had gotten himself elected to the Chamber of Commerce, so maybe he had some business to attend to there.
He wasn’t due anywhere for a couple of hours so Jack figured he might as well head over to the house. He wouldn’t need a key to get in—one of the front windows had been smashed recently by some kids on spring break. At the very least, he should board it up against further vandalism.
Chapter One
Jack eased his old truck against the curb behind a bright red BMW Z4 parked outside Missy Saunders’s and wished he had the time to work on the house. He hated to see the magnificent old buildings of the former gold-mining town lying unloved and unkept. This home was a particularly fine specimen, built by a miner who’d struck it rich with a huge nugget back in the 1870s. It had passed down through the miner’s family, eventually going to Missy Saunders. Missy was an only child and had never married. Jack guessed it had been sold long ago to pay Missy’s nursing-home fees. The sweet old lady had spent a while at the Twilight Years before passing on. Jack regretted he hadn’t been living in Spruce Lake so he could’ve attended her funeral—especially since his mom had reported that Gracie had made a brief appearance to pay her respects to her great-aunt. He wished he’d seen her then. It might have helped him make up his mind about a few things, maybe get her out of his system once and for all.
He shook his head to clear it. No point in reminiscing about what might have been. He and Gracie were history. She was never coming back to town; she’d told him as much. He really needed to get over her and move on with his life. His realization that he was still in love with her had helped him decide that he’d never make a priest and he’d left the seminary in L.A. before being ordained. Although there’d been other reasons for leaving, Gracie had been the main one. But she was a married woman and therefore off-limits, so instead he’d channeled his energies into a carpentry apprenticeship, then worked with underprivileged kids helping them learn a trade and life skills. It was rewarding work, but a lonely life nevertheless.
Since returning to Spruce Lake a couple of years ago, Jack had restored many of the town’s Victorian-era buildings—but none of them had the size and grandeur of Missy Saunders’s place. Still, there were other contractors in the county, whom Mike had probably been sweet-talking all week. Funny that no one else had taken on the project.
Parked in front of the sports car was his new truck, emblazoned with Jack O’Malley Constructions on the doors. Jack had taken delivery of the Dodge Ram only last week. And he hated it. It was just too new and shiny for him. He preferred his old Ford F150.
Jack had had Betsy since high school and, before that, she’d been used to run around the family ranch, Two Elk. She had over a million miles on the clock and wasn’t missing a beat. Her seats were worn and comfortable and fitted Jack’s butt like a glove.
He’d felt like a traitor when he’d taken Betsy down to trade her in on the Dodge. They’d offered peanuts for her, so he’d kept Betsy and bought the Dodge.
Two days later he gave the Dodge to his foreman, Al Hernandez, to drive. Al was only too happy to use the boss’s truck, with its smell of new leather and its too shiny paintwork. Al had three young boys, and the twin cab arrangement suited his family perfectly.
Jack had arranged to meet Al at the house, figuring the two of them would get through the assessment twice as fast. He’d blow this doctor off with a ridiculously high estimate and then he’d be able to start on Adam’s place with a clear conscience—and the knowledge that another contractor in town would get the job. Not that any other contractor would be as good as Jack and his team, but what did this doctor think? That he could snap his fingers and have someone start immediately?
The door of the sports car opened and a woman stepped out. Her dark hair fell across her face, hiding her features, but Jack didn’t miss the oh-so-long legs and trim figure as she stalked around the front of her sports car and onto the sidewalk.
She walked with confidence, like a woman used to getting her own way. She, and the car, looked totally out of place in Spruce Lake. Jack’s hometown was more battered SUVs, jeans and cowboy boots—not flashy sports cars, designer dresses and six-inch heels.
One of those heels wedged itself in a crack in the sidewalk.
Jack watched as she bent to pull it out, revealing a lot more leg...and the bright red undersides of her shoes.
He enjoyed the show, wondering who this fish out of water could be visiting in Spruce Lake, because for sure she wasn’t local. Jack would’ve noticed her way before this if she was.
He could hear her cursing through the open window of his truck. Time to rescue the damsel in distress, he decided as he climbed out and sauntered over to the woman. “Need any help?” he asked.
She stopped cussing and pulling at her leg long enough to stand up to her full height and look him in the eye.
Jack felt the sucker punch right to his gut. He’d know those bewitching light brown eyes, that pert nose, those soft full lips, anywhere.
Gracie.
She’d lost a good fifteen pounds, had her hair cut and styled and was wearing way too much makeup, but it was her, all right.
He swallowed and said, “Hi, Gracie.”
She frowned and said, “Do I know you?”
Jack felt the sucker punch again as she reminded him how insignificant a part of her life he’d been, in spite of their dating for nearly two years in high school.
He pulled off his sunglasses and held out his hand. “Jack O’Malley. We dated for a while. Remember?”
Jack had fallen hard for Gracie the day she’d entered his classroom in their junior year. She’d graduated with an A-plus average, while Jack—thanks to his dyslexia—had barely scraped through. She’d won a scholarship to college, then medical school. Jack hadn’t fared quite so well—at least, not scholastically. He’d joined the peace
