What he didn’t know was how fragile her bravado actually was. Resting a hand on her throat, she took a few deep breaths to slow her heart rate and calm the flutters in her stomach.
She’d have to keep her head around Linc. He put the electric in Montgomery Electrical. Energetic and aggressive, with his piercing blue eyes, the perpetual scowl on his chiseled features, he was the kind of man who could overpower you with his personality alone. Which meant he wasn’t the kind of man she ever intended to get close to. The thought of being overpowered again chilled her blood. She forced the memory back into the dark corner of her mind, praying for peace. The past was over. She had Evan. That was all she wanted to remember.
“Mom? Did that man leave?”
She motioned her son to her side. “Yes. Why?”
He exhaled a loud sigh. “I wanted to ask him about football and stuff.”
Gemma’s shoulders sagged at the thought. Another challenge to guard against. She didn’t need her son developing a case of hero worship for a man like Linc. Though he had been kind to Evan earlier, she knew better than to make any snap judgments about men. Besides, Linc hadn’t come of his own accord in a gesture of welcome or apology. He’d come because he’d been ordered by his mother.
“We’ll talk about that tomorrow. It’s time for bed.”
After settling Evan for the night, Gemma returned to the dining room to go over her presentation one more time. She’d spent a good portion of the past two days sketching out ideas for decorating the town square. Looking at her drawings released a bubble of excitement from deep inside—helping to chase away the unease Linc had left in his wake. Tomorrow she would meet with the Chamber officials to present her preliminary plans, and she needed to be prepared. If she succeeded in Dover, it would open the doors for her future. She could return to Charlotte, or anywhere for that matter, and start another business. New name, new focus, new goals. Ones that didn’t include trusting someone else.
Gemma waited patiently the next afternoon as the officers of the Dover Chamber of Commerce passed around her drawings for the downtown Christmas decorations. She’d received a warm welcome from everyone. She’d already met Pete McCorkle, the president, but this afternoon she’d been introduced to Celia Jones, the membership director; Jeff Wilson, director of sales; and the treasurer, Leon Skelton. They had expressed their excitement over the expansion of the Christmas celebrations. She’d also met Leatha Delmar, who would be her assistant, and who had greeted her with a warm hug and assurance that she would help with everything. As a longtime resident of Dover, Leatha’s knowledge and experience would be invaluable.
Pete studied her drawings, a pleased smile on his face. “These are wonderful. This should draw people from up in Jackson to come down and see our decorations.” He glanced at her. “Can you do this within the budget?”
“I believe so. Provided we can get the business owners on board to help. I’m hoping for a few volunteers to help me coordinate details and work with store owners. And I’ll solicit donations where I can. I’d like to incorporate the other events you have—the community dinner, the toy drive. Bring all the events together, which will ultimately help all the merchants, not just the ones around the square.”
Celia nodded in agreement. “I don’t think you’ll have any trouble. For years, we’ve wanted to do more with Christmas beyond tossing up a few lights.”
“May I ask why you haven’t?”
“Money, mainly. We have two other large events and fund-raisers during the year. A Founders Day celebration in the fall, and a sidewalk sale and cook-off in the spring. It’s only been with the closure of the Southways plant that we were forced to look for another means of revenue. We decided to make more of our charming downtown and put more effort into the holiday.”
“I think that was a wise decision. Your town square is ideal for showcasing Christmas celebrations.”
Pete clasped his hands on the table. “I like your ideas and your enthusiasm. How soon can we get started on this? I’m afraid we haven’t given you much time. It’s already late October.”
Gemma kept her demeanor professional, but inside she wanted to leap for joy. “I’d like to start with a meeting of the local business owners as soon as possible. I’d also like to see what you have on hand as far as lights, signs, banners, holiday decor, things like that.”
Jeff Wilson spoke up. “That would be in the storage building over on Fifth Street. Francie Montgomery should be able to give you her key.”
Gemma bit her lip. “Oh. I’m afraid she’s out of town, and I have no idea when she’ll be home.”
Wilson waved off her concern. “No problem—Linc will know where the key is.”
She forced a smile, but inwardly she cringed. She was trying to avoid Linc—not become more involved. The memory of his unexpected visit last night sent her pulse racing and released a swarm of butterflies in her stomach. Still, she left the meeting with a confidence she hadn’t felt in a long time.
She smiled through her trip to the grocery, the bank and the drugstore. When she pulled up at the school to pick up Evan she was still smiling. Tomorrow she would take pictures of the downtown buildings so she could begin designing light displays. She’d draft an email to the business owners tonight requesting a meeting in the next couple of days. She prayed they would be willing to participate. But first she had to see what was salvageable in the storage building. Unfortunately, to do that she needed to talk to Linc again and get the key.
“Hey, Mom.” Evan slid into the front seat and buckled up.
“How did it go today?” She reached over and smoothed his hair.
“Good. I met a boy who lives near us. He said if you’ll call his mom she would let him come over to play.”
“That’s wonderful, honey. Did you get her number?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Gemma made the turn into the winding driveway of the Montgomery estate situated a few miles south of downtown Dover. The long alley of live oaks arching overhead, dripping with moss, was like a loving welcome home. Living on the Montgomery estate in the quaint cottage gave her a sense of belonging and fueled her imagination. Her mind was a tumbler of ideas all straining to spill forth and become reality.
As she made the curve to the main house she noticed Linc’s red Silverado parked in front. She would have expected him to drive a black one. It better suited his personality. She didn’t relish the idea of approaching him again. He’d probably want proof that she had permission to open the storage building.
She squared her shoulders and raised her chin. She was a professional. She’d ask for the key, then go on about her business. Piece of cake. Or in his case, pie.
“Mom, can I see if Mr. Linc can play football with me?”
“Honey, I’m sure he’s working. He’s a busy man. We shouldn’t bother him.”
“But he said he liked to play. He said I could ask him.”
Gemma stole a quick glance at her son, a twinge of sadness
