Home To Wickham Falls. Rochelle Alers
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“Make certain you get some sleep before you drive home. You don’t need to drive drowsy.”
“I have to get the boys up in the morning because they tend to—”
“Don’t worry about the boys, Rachel,” Sawyer said, cutting her off. “I’ll get them up and see that they get on the bus.”
“You don’t have to do that, Sawyer.”
“I don’t mind. You hang out here and get some rest before you get behind the wheel. Remember, you’re a nurse, not Superwoman.”
Rachel flashed a tender smile. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
Sawyer hugged her. “So am I.” He stood in the doorway and watched her retreating back before returning to sit at his father’s bedside. He had not lied to Rachel. It felt good to sleep under the roof in the house where he had been raised, and he knew it was just a matter of time before word got out that he was back in Wickham Falls.
Reaching for his cell phone, he sent a group text to his partners:
My father had angioplasty surgery. He came through okay. Plan to spend summer here.
Seconds later a response from Elena popped up on his screen.
Glad to know your dad is okay. We told the staff about the hiatus. It didn’t go over well although they’re being paid. They still want to come into the office.
Darius: I don’t have a problem with them coming in. What about you, Saw?
Sawyer: I’m with you, Darius. Maybe they’ll come up with something spectacular before we go public.
Elena: Word!
Sawyer laughed softly. It was on a rare occasion Elena used slang. Sawyer sent another message.
I’ll check in later for updates.
Darius: Speaking of updates I finally popped the question. Last night I asked Chloe to move in with me and she went off like a mad woman claiming her parents didn’t raise her to shack up with a man. This morning I took her to a jeweler and told her to pick out a ring. I must admit my woman has fabulous taste in jewelry.
Sawyer: Congrats! It’s about time, brother. When are you tying the knot?
Darius: Easter week, and I want you and Thom to be my groomsmen. Chloe wants a destination wedding, so I’m seriously thinking of chartering a ship leaving out of New York for the wedding party and holding the ceremony and reception in Key West.
Sawyer: I’m in.
Elena: You’re next, Sawyer.
Sawyer: Nah!! Right now I’m cool being a bachelor.
Elena: Yeah right. I’m willing to bet some pretty young country girl is going to catch your eye and you’ll stop all that talk about being a cool bachelor. In case you don’t realize it, you’re still a country boy.
Sawyer: What’s wrong with being a country boy?
Elena: Nothing. Don’t forget Thom comes from a little town in Tennessee and I wouldn’t trade him in if Brad Pitt walked through my door right this very minute.
Sawyer: This country boy is going to ring off now. You guys give your better halves my best.
He was still smiling when he slipped the phone into the pocket of his jeans. Little had Elena known that a pretty country girl had caught his eye but that’s where it began and ended.
He wanted Jessica Calhoun, not as a wife or even a lover, but as a friend. He didn’t want to get too involved with her and then, come summer’s end, leave her to return to New York.
* * *
The doorbell rang, followed by Bootsy’s strident barking, as Jessica descended the staircase. “I’m coming, baby boy.” Logan had called to let her know he was coming over so they could get a jump on the grant proposal.
She opened the front door and within seconds Jessica scooped him up and held him tightly as the dog continued growling. “Sorry about that,” she said in apology. “He’s usually more welcoming.”
Logan patted the small dog on the head. “Hey, Bootsy.”
“Come on in. I printed out two copies of last year’s grant application so we each will have a copy. We’ll work at the table in the eating nook where we will have more room.”
Logan sniffed the air. “Something smells good.”
“I’m cooking for the week. Do you want anything to eat or drink?”
“No, thank you.”
Jessica indicated where Logan should sit and then placed Bootsy in his crate in the mudroom. She returned to the kitchen and sat on the cushioned bench seat opposite Logan. “Have you set a wedding date?”
A mysterious smile played at the corners of his mouth. “Yes. Bastille Day.”
“You’re getting married July fourteenth?”
Logan affected a wide grin. “Oui, mademoiselle.”
She smiled. “Congratulations! I’d love to be a fly on the wall and see everyone’s expression at the school when you show up wearing a wedding band.”
“That’s not nice, Miss Calhoun,” he chided.
“And you’re not nice, Mister Mysterious,” Jessica countered teasingly, “playing the footloose and fancy-free bachelor when you have a girlfriend waiting for you in France.”
“Not quite, Jessica. I’ve never dated any of the women who work for the school district, and that’s why there’s been gossip about my love life. The same can be said about you.”
“You’re right,” she confirmed. Although she’d dated one man for several months after moving to West Virginia, Jessica had a hard-and-fast rule not to date her coworkers. “Well, let’s get into this monster and see what we can salvage or if we have to come up with new strategies to present to the committee.”
They spent more than three hours going over pages of the proposal, deleting data they’d submitted the year before, while jotting down notes along the margins for possible consideration. “I think we’re aiming too low,” Jessica said, as she studied the section with the award bid request.
“You’re kidding, aren’t you?”
“No, I’m not. Think about it, Logan. Other school districts are being awarded millions, while we’re only asking for less than half a mil. That may indicate our need isn’t as great as other districts. Our demand is as great as Newark, New Jersey’s, where they got a hundred million in grants from Facebook cofounder Mark Zuckerberg.”
“You can’t compare a city like Newark, which probably has a total population of at least a quarter of a million, to a town like Wickham Falls, where we struggle to maintain a population