CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
EMILY GEORGE STROLLED downtown to her new store. What a treat to take a leisurely ten-minute walk instead of fighting Los Angeles traffic for an hour.
It still seemed incredible that she’d bought the Emporium. She’d passed through the town of Schuyler while exploring Montana and had acted totally on impulse. Of course, being impulsive wasn’t strange for her, but usually it wasn’t regarding something so huge. After all, people said she was the “smart George sister,” while her sister was the pretty one.
But four months ago she’d thrown caution to the wind and made an offer on the business. Well, it wasn’t as if she was risking everything—her shop in Los Angeles was doing ridiculously well. Even after hiring a manager, she had ample income each month to do whatever she wanted, and that wasn’t counting her savings and investments.
“Good morning,” a friendly voice called as she entered the store.
“Hello. Back already?” Emily greeted the woman who’d visited the shop the previous day. As far as she knew, it was the first time she’d met a member of the prominent McGregor family.
Sarah McGregor had spent two hours searching for the perfect present for her son and daughter-in-law, and they’d gotten into a fascinating conversation about the town’s history. Later her manager had explained that when Sarah and her husband got married, it had ended the rivalry between the two biggest ranching families in the area. Emily had instantly envisioned the Western range wars of Hollywood legend, but apparently it hadn’t been quite that dramatic.
“I thought you found the anniversary gift you wanted,” she added, “but we’re happy to take returns.”
“It isn’t that. I just kept thinking about how nice it would look in one of these polished wood boxes. They’re so elegant and simple. And I asked my son, the one I told you about... Oh, there he is.” Sarah stopped and smiled as a tall, rather forbidding man entered the shop. “Over here, Trent,” she called.
Emily’s own smile became strained. She’d made the mistake yesterday of mentioning her new house—desperately in need of renovation—only to have Sarah McGregor begin raving about her eldest son’s building skills. Emily had manufactured an excuse to duck out of the conversation, wondering when she’d learn to keep her mouth shut.
It seemed as if half the women in town had talented sons capable of tackling repairs. Plumbing? The dear unstopped my plugged sink in nothing flat. Electrical? You should see the way Joey rigged my broken vacuum cleaner. Drywall? I swatted a spider and knocked a hole in the plaster, so Carlton just covered it with masking tape and painted right over.
Supposedly some of them were licensed contractors, but Emily needed more than a mother’s say-so to trust her home to them.
“Are these the boxes you wanted me to check?” asked the man as he approached. He looked absurdly out of place in the gift store. It was a large building with high, old-fashioned ceilings, but he seemed too powerful and intense to be confined inside four walls. With his green eyes and dark hair, he made her think of Irish adventurers braving the seas for fame and fortune.
“Er...yes, dear.”
He lifted one of the wood boxes and turned it over, carefully examining every aspect of its construction, not seeming to notice the awkward silence that had fallen. A second and third box were inspected with equal care.
“These are finely constructed, all hardwood, and the price is acceptable for the level of workmanship,” he said at length. “I’m surprised you wanted a second opinion.”
Bright flags of pink appeared in Sarah’s cheeks. “You’re the expert. Let me introduce you to Emily, the new owner of the Emporium. Emily, this is my son Trent.”
Trent flicked Emily a cool look. “Hello.” If he was aware that his mother was trying to introduce a potential client, he wasn’t using charm to clinch the deal.
“Hi.”
“Emily just bought a house that needs renovation,” Sarah explained gamely.
“That’s nice. I should get back to work,” Trent said to Sarah. “I’ll see you at Sunday dinner.” He gave her a kiss on the forehead and strode out.
He seemed to suck up all the oxygen in a room, and Emily felt the need to gulp a lungful of air after the door closed behind him.
Sarah let out a sigh. “I’m sorry. You said your new place is pretty bad, and I thought you could get some advice from Trent. What did you say—that the roof was in danger of falling down around your ears? It sounds as if you’re living the Montana version of Under the Tuscan Sun.”
Emily couldn’t suppress a laugh. Her “new” house might be in even worse shape than a sturdy Italian villa that had survived centuries of use. “I suppose it does.”
Except for the romance part, she added silently. The character in the movie had wanted a man in her life, but Emily wasn’t interested in romance. And it didn’t seem likely, in any case.
“You should consider having Trent’s company do the work. Not that I’m trying to drum up business for him, or that he needs it,” Sarah added hastily. “He’s terribly independent—when he was starting the business he wouldn’t take anything from us. Not even...” Her words trailed and there was a hint of frustration in her tone.
Emily understood how Sarah’s son must have felt. She often wished she had refused a loan from her parents when starting her boutique in Southern California. She’d long since paid it back, with compounded interest, but they rarely failed to refer to their role in her success.
“I’m planning to call a number of contractors for bids,” Emily said, hoping Sarah would drop the subject.
“Then I’m sure you’ll call Big Sky Construction, too. Trent is the top contractor for miles around. Their bid may not be the lowest, but I know they’d do the best work. They don’t cut corners.”
Emily’s eyes widened. Big Sky Construction had a great reputation. “I hear good things about them,” she said in a noncommittal tone, “but I thought the company was owned by someone named Hawkins.”
Sarah nodded. “Hawkins is Trent’s last name. We raised my husband’s nephew and niece after their parents died in an accident, but Trent and Alaina are our children, the same as the others. We just didn’t think it was right to change their surnames when we adopted them.”
“I see.”
From what Emily had heard of Trent Hawkins, the man was formidable, and his construction company was in demand across a large section of Montana, thanks to the construction yards he’d opened in other communities. Yet in a way, Big Sky’s size and popularity was a potential drawback. She’d dealt with large companies and they weren’t
