is as far as the relationship can possibly go.”
“Baloney,” Pops said, then snorted. “Unless Joe is a serial killer on the loose and hiding out in Fox Hollow, he sounds like your type. Some guys around here feel threatened because you can handle a power tool with the best of them.”
“Thanks to you,” Mattie put in, grinning.
“But if this Joe person shares your common interests and is a decent sort of fellow, I say go for it. Unless there’s something offensive about him. Is there? Ugly as original sin maybe?”
Mattie chuckled. “Just the opposite. My female customers constantly ask for his assistance, just to get a close look at him.”
“He sounds perfect. A Mary Poppins of the male variety.”
“Except that he works for me,” Mattie repeated. “I’d have to fire him if I became interested in him. Either that or I’d have to resign. I can’t do that, not when you’ve just handed me a time-consuming project to perk up your senior citizen friends.”
“Oh yeah, there is that,” Pops mumbled. “But there isn’t a single patient here at the home who wouldn’t tell you to go for it if this Joe character suits you, even if you spend your time with him and the rest of us have to stare at these bare walls an extra month before the interior decorations arrive.”
“Pops,” she said warningly.
He flung up his hand. “Don’t ‘Pops’ me, kiddo. You aren’t getting any younger, and I want you to have a life like your grandmother and I had together. Now that’s something you shouldn’t pass up.”
Mattie squirmed uncomfortably. They’d had this little talk before—about a thousand times, thank you very much. Pops wanted her married and settled before he passed on. She understood that, but you just couldn’t rush love. It either happened or it didn’t. So far it hadn’t. She’d been infatuated once or twice in her early twenties, but the relationships had fizzled out because Mattie kept long hours and took on the responsibility of caring for Pops. Most men didn’t like to compete with Pops. He was such a lively, energetic character that he tended to steal the show when he was underfoot. Her boyfriends—what few she had—demanded that she choose between them and Pops. It was no contest. This man had taken her in, raised her, provided for her, taught her skills and encouraged her to pursue her artistic gift.
Mattie glanced at her watch when her stomach growled, reminding her that she had skipped lunch in order to decorate Alice Dawson’s living room. “I better go, Pops. I haven’t had supper yet.”
“Yeah, well, if you’d eaten at this cafeteria you wouldn’t feel as if you’d eaten, either,” he muttered. “I’m serious about those snacks. Graham crackers, vanilla wafers, pudding cups. Doesn’t matter to me. Just bring some junk food for me and my cronies.”
Mattie sighed, resigned to becoming an accomplice. “Okay, get a list from your gang and call me at the store tomorrow. I’ll bring the goodies Sunday evening when I come to visit.”
“You’re a doll, Shortcake. Did I ever tell you that?”
“Yes, Pops, immediately after you’d dragged me into another of your schemes.”
“Hey, you know I love ya, kiddo. You were always my very best sidekick. Now I have to settle for these yahoos at the home, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love you best of all.”
Mattie rose from the chair to give Pops an affectionate hug and kiss. “Love ya, Pops, even if you are the mastermind of the wildest bunch of codgers in Paradise Valley.”
“And you remember what I said about this Joe Gray person. If he’s worth your interest, then bend a few rules. I’m an advocate of that. You go, girl.”
Shaking her head at Pops’s adolescent jargon, Mattie exited. Pops was, without a doubt, the youngest seventy-eight-year-old in the country. He’d told her once that the only thing he regretted in life was not taking more risks—and he’d taken plenty of them, in her opinion. But when it came to her unwilling, unproductive attraction to Joe Gray, Mattie was hesitant.
No, she wasn’t going to fire Joe because she was interested in him, or because she really wanted to get to know him better. She needed him at the store, now more than ever—thanks to Pops’s latest mission. She’d put her feminine needs on hold years ago, after all. She could control her urges. She and Joe were going to be good buddies, best pals, she told herself sensibly. This was one time she was definitely not going to take Pops’s advice.
And that was all there was to that.
3
JOE WAS AMAZED at the number of customers who poured in and out of Hobby Hut on Saturday. When he commented to Mattie, she informed him that Fox Hollow was the closest community to the lake, and that cabin and cottage owners delighted in redecorating their weekend retreats. In addition, the retirees who lived in the wooded hills enjoyed keeping up with the latest seasonal fads.
Joe had never seen the likes of women, young and old, buying fall arrangements, Halloween and Thanksgiving decorations. When he and J.D. came up with the idea of the craft store that had expanded across the Midwest, they’d never dreamed of being so successful. But now that Joe was here in the trenches, watching these women, with a few reluctant husbands traipsing around the store, he realized why the business boomed. People liked to rearrange their homes by adding personal touches they could appreciate, then replacing decorations several times throughout the year. It was the variety that kept life new and interesting.
Twice during the day, the husbands of female shoppers had looked Joe up and down, then muttered “twinkie” half under their breaths. Joe probably should have been offended that he’d been categorized as effeminate because he actually liked creating knickknacks in the workshop and didn’t mind selling them. Once, however, he’d had to bite his tongue when a grumpy old man scowled and referred to the inventory at Hobby Hut as “sissy stuff no man would be caught dead selling, unless it was a last resort to keep the wolves from the door.”
Joe’s thoughts scattered like a flock of geese going airborne when Mattie scrunched in front of him at the cash register. “Here come the Zimmers for a refund,” she murmured confidentially. “Better let me handle them this first time so you’ll know how to deal with them. Lovable as they are, they get their kicks from trying to pull a fast one every now and then.”
Joe stepped aside, frowning curiously at the harmless-looking elderly couple who hobbled down the center aisle, a quart of paint clamped in each gnarled hand.
“Changed our minds about the accent colors in the bedrooms and living room,” Coreen Zimmer announced as she set the cans on the counter, then produced her receipt. “Just want our money back until we can agree on which colors to put where.”
Sounded reasonable enough to Joe. He couldn’t fathom why Mattie thought she needed to handle this simple transaction. But to his surprise, Mattie grabbed a flathead screwdriver from beneath the counter and opened the paint. To his horror, she dipped her finger into the can to taste the contents.
“Colored water,” she said, smiling wryly at her customers. “Pretty sneaky of you two, but no dice. You really are going to have to get up a few hours earlier to outfox me.”
Homer Zimmer shot Mattie a disgruntled glance, then flicked his attention to Joe. “Could’ve
