knew how he looked, like a homeless street bum, a description, no matter how shaming, that wasn’t far from the truth. His idea of home was his Dodge and, when money allowed, a room in a rent-by-the-week roach motel. Haircuts and soft beds would have to wait.
What was he doing here? What made him think he could do this? He was broke and homeless. Just because a little boy had his DNA didn’t make him a father.
The familiar, dreaded knot formed in the pit of his stomach.
Loser. Convict. Get up and get out of here. You’ll never make this work.
His hand trembled on the fork. He put it down and reached for the red napkin. The delicious ham and egg felt leaden in his belly. He took another sip of peach tea, swallowed to chase away the negative voices.
This wasn’t about him. He knew what he was, but his son didn’t.
A boy needed a father. Eli should know. Losing his parents’ love and support had been a chain saw through his soul that had left him with a gaping emptiness he couldn’t fill.
For the sake of a child he didn’t even know, he had to ask. If Julia rejected his idea, which he fully expected, he’d try the pizza place. And if there was an application, he’d lie. They didn’t run background checks, did they?
Nobody in Honey Ridge knew him. He could start fresh, his secret tucked away inside, and build a life his son could respect. He should have used a false name, but it was too late for that now. He’d have to hope no one noticed him enough to check into his past.
He folded the napkin and laid the starched cloth next to his empty plate. The Donovan table always had ironed napkins. “Your peach orchard needs maintenance.”
The sentence had come out wrong, blurted and abrupt. He clenched his back teeth. Polite conversation was barely a memory.
Julia tilted her head as if she wasn’t quite sure what he was getting at. Caught in the sunlight, a stray blond tendril spun gold along the curve of her jaw.
“We’ll get to it eventually.”
“I can do it.” He rushed on before she could reject the idea, stunned by the vehemence with which he desired her approval. “Officer Riley thought you might be ready to start work on that old carriage house.”
She glanced toward the tired old building set half a hundred yards beyond the house. “I’d love to, but money is an issue.”
“I understand.” He focused on his plate, afraid he’d see rejection in her eyes, afraid he’d give away his desperation. A remodel like this could take months, maybe longer, and time was money in his pocket. “What if I made you a good deal?”
“What kind of deal?”
He flicked a glance at her. She gazed at him with more interest than he had right to hope for.
“I need work. I could help with the orchard and other odd jobs around the place. I have experience in construction.” Thanks to the prison system, which he was very careful not to mention. “In exchange for room, board and a small salary, I could do those things and repair the carriage house, as well. Whatever you need done.”
Julia brought her tea to the table and sat down. His heart beat a little faster, but he kept his expression bland.
“I don’t know. Material costs alone—”
Valery pointed a muffin at her sister. “We won’t get another offer like that, Julia. A construction company costs out the wazoo. Even Sam Baker charges more than we can afford right now, and he’s the cheapest around.”
“We can work something out. I’m flexible.” Eli tried to keep his voice calm as if he wasn’t desperate, but his chest was tight with hope. He’d not hoped for anything in so long he hurt with the wanting. “Hire me on a temporary basis. For the summer. If things work out, we can continue. If not…” He shrugged. He’d make this work. He had to.
Julia stared in the direction of the weary old building. He could see the wheels turning and hoped they were turning in his favor. “I’d sure love to get the carriage house remodeled. It’s a distraction from the rest of the grounds.”
“The added revenue from renting out the carriage house will offset the cost of remodeling and pay my salary.”
Her focus returned to him. “In the long run.”
“That’s the way business works. Spend some to make more.” He knew about business. Once he’d even had dreams, fueled by his father, and he’d shattered them as he’d shattered everything in his path.
“A healthier orchard will produce more fruit,” Valery said. “And more fruit means more sales at harvest.”
Julia pressed her lips together and looked off into the distance, thinking. Absently, she stroked slender fingers up and down the moist tea glass. The action sent shivers through Eli. He imagined those fingers touching him.
He jerked his gaze away and stood. “Maybe this isn’t such a great idea.”
“No, wait.” Julia turned her attention back to him. “I’ll have to look at the books and play with the numbers, but I think you may be on to something.”
“I am,” he said with more confidence than he felt.
“Are you honest?”
“Yes.”
Valery laughed. “What did you think he’d say, Julia? Admit he’s a burglar on a cross-country crime spree?”
Eli remained rigid as rock, unblinking. Julia held him by the eyes, studying him as if she could see inside. He wanted to squirm and look away but understood this was his chance. Maybe the only one he’d have.
“You can trust me.”
“Drugs? Alcohol?”
The dark days circled in like buzzards. “Neither.”
“I won’t allow wild parties or drunks or drugs or anything that could harm this inn’s reputation. Screw up and you’re history.”
“You have my word.” It’s all he had.
“Do you have anything planned this afternoon?”
Oh, sure. An appointment for tea with the queen. “No, ma’am.”
“Good. Stick around and we’ll talk this out, walk through the carriage house, discuss the particulars and see if you still think this is something you want to tackle.”
He didn’t tell her he was down to few choices. He’d take what he could get at this point. Even though the thought scared him more than a shank in the shower, he was staying in Honey Ridge near his son. “And if it is?”
“Then you’re hired.”
Peach Orchard Farm
