Happily Ever After (20 page)

Joe’s tenor filled the hallway as Mona turned off the floor sander. “‘You are my sunshine, my only sunshine . . .’”

“Is that for me?” Mona peeked around the corner.She must have startled him. As he tore his attention from the overhead light
in the hallway to look at her, he wobbled on the step stool.

“You’re having a hard time staying on that thing,”Mona commented, stifling a giggle.

“Only when a pretty lady catches me singing about her.”

Mona’s mouth went dry and she clamped it shut. It was Joe’s turn to laugh. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear that shade
of red.”

Mona glared at him.

“So, what do you think of the light fixture?”

Mona folded her arms. “Get down. I can’t see with your head in the way.”

Joe jumped off the stool. She had to drag her eyes off him to examine his handiwork. He looked adorable in his faded blue
jeans, navy-blue-and-hunter-green-plaid flannel shirt and tan work boots. His horribly tousled hair betrayed he’d been musing
over something. It made her smile to know his personal vices.

“Looking good,” Mona said, not necessarily meaning the light fixture. But the antique, wrought-iron, three-armed light with
scalloped-edged globes suited the hallway perfectly. It was just the contrast she needed between Liza’s place and hers.

“Thanks, Joe,” she said, meeting his eyes. He shrugged. She wanted to go on, to tell him how his backbreaking labor the past
week had turned her spark of hope into a living flame. He’d worked from dawn to midnight—painting the front porch, installing
lights, tearing out charred siding, and helping her with miscellaneous odds and ends. And he’d done it all without a word
of complaint or a bed to sleep in at night.

It made her muscles ache to think he’d spent five nights camped out in his truck, but when she’d offered to put him up at
the local motel, he’d actually acted offended. “Brian may be behind bars, but I’m still on duty.” She didn’t allow herself
to argue with that, preferring instead to be buoyed by his enthusiastic demeanor and warm grin. With two weeks left before
her grand opening, she was starting to believe her dream would come true.

“Hey, I have an idea, Mona.” Joe tucked his wire clippers into his back pocket. “Can I take you out for dinner tonight? I
know this place up the trail I’d love to show you.”

Mona stared at him dumbly. Was he asking her out on a date?

“Mona, you look like I just asked you to fly to Paris with me. Calm down.”

Mona felt her breathing restart. She laughed nervously. “I’m sorry, Joe. You caught me off guard. Sure, I’ll go out with you
tonight.” Her heart raced as she considered the implications of her words. A date. Her warning sirens blared, yet for some
reason, she felt like dancing. A date. With Joe. She had to bite her lip to keep from grinning.

Joe wiped his hands on his pant legs. Then, to her shock, he held out his hand, as if they were making a deal. “Great. Now
shake on it so you don’t back out.”

Mona frowned. “Why would I do that?”

“Because you don’t know where I’m taking you.”Mischief glinted in his blue eyes.

Mona tentatively shook his hand; all day she relived the tremor of excitement that rippled through her.

Mona shouldn’t have spent so much time ironing the blue floral-printed skirt. “The city dump? This is your great place?”

She grimaced as they passed the green-and-white sign. The municipal dump was located far from scenic Deep Haven for good reason
. . . it was about the most unattractive place within sixty miles. And this is where Joe had chosen to take her on their first
date? Mona rolled her eyes. So much for culture. He personified the he-man he read about in his Louis L’Amour books.

Joe shot her a sly look. “Don’t give up on me, Mona.Hold your judgment for a moment, okay?”

Mona crossed her arms over her white cashmere sweater. She’d probably have to soak it in lilac-scented detergent to get the
stench out.

Joe maneuvered the pickup between the ruts in the road and found a flat place overlooking a valley littered with broken refrigerators,
stoves, toilet seats, cans, newspapers, bottles, detergent boxes, tires, and a collection of other trash.

“Oh, this is picturesque,” she commented dryly.

Joe’s grin was undaunted. “Just you wait until the others get here. That’s when the fun starts.”

“Others? It’s a party?”

“Sort of.” Joe slid out of the truck. “Stay here.”

She easily acquiesced. But Joe’s happiness was contagious and her interest piqued. She watched him fiddle with a tarp in the
back of the truck, then turned her attention to the pit. The city had dug out a long valley into which garbage was dumped.
Someday, she supposed, the area would be filled in and another patch of wilderness would be furrowed out for humanity’s litter.
She wondered how much forest hid trash, new life covering the debris of the past. Oddly, she couldn’t smell the refuse piled
below. The pine surrounding the dump absorbed the odor and scented the air. A scant wind pushed through the trees, and the
sun winked through the top branches on its downward slide. Perhaps the beautiful evening would soften the repulsive scenery.

“Okay, ready.” Joe climbed back in the driver’s seat.

“Are we leaving?” She couldn’t hide the hope in her voice. Maybe this was a joke.

Joe laughed aloud. “Not quite.” He put the truck into reverse, backed up, turned around, and backed into the place where they’d
just been parked. Then he cut the engine, left the keys in the ignition, and turned on the radio. As a crackly country station
crooned a sorry, out-of- date love song, he opened his door and stepped out.“Your table is waiting, milady.”

Mona gave him a suspicious look. He stretched out his hand, and she took it. Pulling her across the bench seat, he helped
her out and led her around to the bed of the truck.

Mona gasped, delight seizing her at the sight of her “table.” He’d spread out a Navaho blanket on the bed of the truck and
filled his duffel, rescued and cleaned after the fire, to make a long pillow. A blue wicker picnic basket sat in the center.

“My table?”

“The best in the house.”

Mona cocked a grin. “With the best view, I suppose.”

“And the best service.” Joe’s eyes danced with tomfoolery. In one swift movement, he scooped Mona up and deposited her on
the Navaho blanket.

Mona giggled.

Joe climbed aboard. “Let’s see what the chef prepared.” Opening the basket, he fished around for a moment, then gave her a
sneaky look. “You’d better close your eyes.”

She scowled.

“Please. The chef can’t work when he’s being watched.”

Mona suppressed another giggle and obeyed. She heard ripping paper, the hiss of a soda bottle, and silverware clinking. “Did
you raid the local Colonel Sanders?”

“Eyes closed!”

Mona leaned against the army duffel. He may be poor, but Joe was certainly creative. But was he poor?He seemed to manage just
fine, never asking for more than the measly wad she paid him. Where had he found the money to sop up her basement?

“Okay, open!”

When Mona opened her eyes, her heart swelled, and for some reason, she felt dangerously near tears. On a starched white linen
napkin Joe had assembled a picnic of smoked lake trout, Ritz crackers, Gouda and Edam cheeses, and Concord grapes. Joe handed
her a crystal glass filled with soda.

Mona was speechless. Taking a sip of the soda, she blinked furiously and struggled to find her voice.

“Mona, are you okay? I thought you’d like it.” Joe sounded disappointed.

Mona gathered her composure and met his blue-eyed, gentle gaze. “It’s more wonderful than I could have ever dreamed, Joe.”

A slow smile reappeared on Joe’s face, and in his eyes she saw his feelings clearly written. Her face flamed at the rush of
unexpected emotions. She quickly took another sip. “W-where’d you get the finery?” she stammered, holding up the glass.

He looked so cute when he blushed. “You’d be surprised what the Goodwill sells.”

She smiled, grateful to see that he, too, felt the awkward moment. “I guess I’ll have to start shopping there.”

“One man’s garbage is another man’s treasure,” Joe quipped. He began peeling the golden-skinned lake trout with a fork. “Just
have to look beyond the obvious.” He raised his eyes to hers, and his words hung in the air.

Mona’s heart thumped—hard. “So when do the ‘others’ show up?” she asked, shifting the topic.

Joe hesitated, then focused back on the fish. “Soon, I hope. It’ll be hard to see them after the sun sets.”

Mona frowned.

“But I’m sure this delicious fish smell will act as a dinner gong.”

“Fish smell?” She began to feel sick.

“Yep, bears love it.”

“Bears.” Mona gulped the rest of her drink.

Joe grinned as he handed her a piece of fish nestled between two Ritz crackers. “Black bears. And maybe a brown one if we’re
lucky.”

Mona’s eyes widened. “And grizzlies?”

Joe laughed. “No. Minnesota isn’t known for grizzlies. Wolves, maybe, but grizzlies are few and far between.” His eyes twinkled.
“Unless you count the one in the truck with you.”

Mona bit back a smile. “You’re looking remarkably less grizzly tonight.” She eyed his indigo V-necked cotton sweater and black
jeans. “I like your footwear;they match the music.”

Joe lifted one of the shiny, midnight black cowboy boots. “Authentic Texas rawhide.” Leaning back against the duffel, he winked
at her. “It’s not ev’ra girl who gits ta see maw c’ontra side,” he drawled in a mock Southern twang.

Mona laughed until she hurt. Joe looked happy and relaxed sitting there, trying to catch all the crumbs from his fish sandwich.
As she watched him, memory abruptly hit her hard. His easy smile, the way the wind played in his hair—she’d seen that look
before. It was the way her father had looked while watching seagulls snap up the fishbones he tossed on shore. She’d forgotten
the contented smile her father wore in that delicious, priceless moment. And Joe had captured the memory for her. Mona blinked
back another rush of tears.

“Here they come!” Joe pointed to a remote corner of the distant forest, and Mona was profoundly thankful for the reprieve.
She didn’t need to spend the night blubbering down memory lane.

She searched the heavily shadowed forest and spied two black bears, one slightly bigger than the other, lumbering toward the
dump valley. They were bigger than she imagined, even at this far distance. Gooseflesh dotted her skin. “Are we safe?”

Joe laughed. “Yes. They won’t come over here. I was kidding about the fish. They’ll stay on their side and paw through the
trash. There’s enough pickings in this dump to keep them happy ’til hibernation.”

Mona blew out relief. “Well, we certainly have enough to share.” She eyed the spread of food.

“Rip will be glad to hear that. He wasn’t too happy when I locked him in the apartment tonight.”

The sun was low and to their backs. Long shadows reached out from the pine and birch woods and slowly surrounded the truck.
Mona ate her fill of fish, exotic cheese, and grapes, listened to country minstrels, and watched wildlife rummage through
the discards of society.

At one point, after he’d packed up dinner, Joe leaned into the folds of the duffel and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
She was amazed at the ease she felt with him. As if they had always been together, knew each other inside and out. Or maybe
it was just the desire for it that awakened within her. Joe was a man she wanted to know, wanted to let inside her dreams.

A chill rippled through her. It was too late. The pain was inevitable. Joe would leave, and when he did, he’d take her heart
with him. She nestled herself deeper into the nook under his arm. It was suddenly as plain as the North Star winking through
the lavender twilight.

Mona was falling in love with her handyman.