her. No matter how hard she tried to ignore it, the nagging sense of failure lingered.
Not even the move to Juniper Bluff had been entirely in her control. Struggling through her grief over Mom’s death, she’d had no other goal than to bolster her advertising clientele and strengthen her position at the advertising firm. Little did she realize her family had been working behind the scenes to bring her and Dad back to Texas.
Okay, yes, seeing Dad happier than he’d been since Mom had first developed kidney disease was definitely a blessing.
But being strong-armed into working with an almost-complete stranger on a project she had neither the time nor the experience for? This was a situation she needed to get under control ASAP.
After returning calls and replying to a few emails Tuesday morning, Brooke decided she couldn’t put off the inevitable. She found Shaun’s number in her phone and pressed the call button.
He answered with a breathy “Hello?”
“Hi, it’s Brooke. Is this a bad time?”
“Just caught me hauling a hay bale, one of the many delightful ranch chores I’ve been delegated.”
She chuckled. “I take it your future brother-in-law is still alive and kicking.”
“Yeah, my sister’s put a lot of effort into planning the wedding, so she’d be really miffed if I did him in.”
“Oh, the sacrifices we make for family.” No kidding. “So, about this Christmas project...”
“Right. Unless you’ve come up with a brilliant idea to get us out of it, we should probably start brainstorming.”
Brooke perused her computer calendar. “Shall we meet at the doughnut shop for coffee in the morning, say around seven—or is that too early for you?”
“I’m an early riser, or at least I’ve become one since moving in with Kent. See you then.”
Ending the call, Brooke typed in the appointment. A moment later, Inez Quick, the chamber president, tapped on Brooke’s open door. She carried an armful of file folders.
Brooke gave a mock groan. “More stuff I need to familiarize myself with?”
“No rush.” The slender fifty-something woman dropped the stack on Brooke’s desk, then tucked a strand of dark hair into her French twist. “These contain minutes and project reports from several of our committees. Speaking of which, how did your church meeting go last night?”
“Can you spell gullible? Seems the newest kids on the block are prime targets for getting volunteered.” She went on to explain about the Christmas outreach.
With a thoughtful smile, Inez perched on a chair across from Brooke. “Think of it this way. The more in tune you are with the pulse of Juniper Bluff, the more effective you’ll be at this job.”
Loath as she was to admit it, her boss had a point. At least it was easier to swallow than her family’s constant harassment about getting a life. “Problem is, I’m so new in town that I have no idea where to begin.”
Inez reached across the desk for a pen and scratchpad. After jotting some notes, she passed it back to Brooke. “Here’s a list off the top of my head of area agencies that support needy families. Contact a few of them and ask for ways your committee might help.”
Brooke perused the list. “Thanks, this is great.”
Rising, Inez turned to go. “Oh, and feel free to work on the project during office hours as your schedule permits. I meant what I said—this could help you build a few more inroads with the local business community.”
Having her boss’s approval alleviated a few of her concerns about spending time on the project. By the end of the day she’d called every organization on Inez’s list and had also contacted Pastor Terry at Shepherd of the Hills to ask about any particular needs he might be aware of. The responses she’d collected would give her and Shaun more than enough to kick off their planning session. The hard part would be narrowing down the options to what would best fit the abilities and interests of the service committee.
Armed with computer notes full of information from the agencies she’d called, Brooke arrived at Diana’s Donuts the next morning a few minutes before seven. She was surprised to find Shaun already holding a table for them.
“You really are an early bird,” she said as she set down her things.
Shaun smiled over the rim of his coffee mug. “Didn’t want to hold you up in case you were in a hurry to get to work.”
“No worries. I now officially have my boss’s go-ahead for this venture, which means we won’t have to meet at zero dark thirty next time.” She covered a yawn. “Be right back after I get some coffee.”
Diana greeted her at the counter. “Conspiring with the handsome new stranger, I see.”
“Conspiring—really?” Brooke rolled her eyes. Safer not to acknowledge the handsome new stranger remark at all—not that she hadn’t noticed. In fact, the more Shaun’s beard grew out, the more her gaze drifted to his manly chin. “We’re just working together on this church outreach thing.”
“So your dad told me when he and Tripp dropped by here yesterday.” Diana passed Brooke a mug of steaming coffee, then leaned closer, elbows resting on the counter. “I hear he’s a pastor who’s been serving on the mission field. What else have you found out about him?”
“Honestly, you never used to be this gossipy in college.” Lifting her mug, Brooke offered a sugary-sweet smile. “On the house, right? Thank you so much.” She ignored Diana’s raised-eyebrow stare and sauntered back to the table.
Shaun seemed to come out of a daze as she sat down across from him. Straightening, he offered a brief smile. “Ready to get down to business?”
Brooke studied him. “Your heart still isn’t in this, is it?”
“Let’s just say I’m continuing to reserve judgment.”
“Believe me, I understand.” Maybe if she focused less on the Christmas angle and more on the community service aspects, it would be easier to detach from her emotions.
Shaun released a resigned sigh. “I did jot down a few thoughts, though.”
“Good. We can combine your ideas with what I’ve gleaned from area aid organizations.” Yes, let’s keep this all business. She reached into her tote for her tablet computer. Tapping a few icons, she brought up her notes from yesterday’s calls.
“Wow, high-tech.” With a wry laugh, Shaun tugged a folded paper from the pocket of his plaid flannel shirt. “Hope my handwritten jottings aren’t too old-school for you.”
“As long as your hen-scratching is decipherable, I’m good.”
Shaun’s eyes narrowed in feigned offense. “My penmanship is excellent, and I can produce my third-grade report card to prove it.”
Every
