Love Inspired August 2014 – Bundle 1 of 2 (43 page)

The flicker of sadness in his eyes told her there was more to it than that, but she
didn’t want to pry. She remembered Will Barrett as a kindhearted man who’d inherited
an archaic family business rooted in another century. When it failed, she hadn’t been
surprised, or even particularly sorry. But now she felt the very thing her father
had warned her about before coming out here: sympathy.

In her memory, she heard him reminding her that sentiment had no place in the banking
industry. She was here to do a job, not get wrapped up in someone else’s family problems.
The bank—and more precisely, her father—was counting on her honest, objective appraisal
before approving or rejecting this loan request. More than anything, she wanted to
prove to him that she was capable of taking over the helm when he was ready to step
down. That was what he’d planned for her all her life, and as his only child, she
was determined to make it happen.

That meant playing the game by his rules, which didn’t include financing a business
so far off the beaten path it couldn’t help but fail again. In spite of her personal
opinion, she was touched by Paul’s willingness to take on a hopeless cause for his
grandfather. Not for himself, or for money, but because Will had asked him to. Few
people got through the composed demeanor she’d cultivated, but Paul’s direct, heartfelt
explanation had come uncomfortably close to doing just that. What that meant she couldn’t
say, but it was a disturbing feeling, and she fought it with every disciplined bone
in her body.

“It looks like you’ve been making progress with the equipment.” Some things looked
completely worn-out, but others were clearly fresh out of the box. “Is this what you
wanted to show me?”

“Yeah.” Brightening, he strode past her to an old wooden lever. “I just finished this
section, so I haven’t tested it yet. You might wanna cover your ears.”

Slinging her camera around her neck, she followed his suggestion. When she nodded
that she was ready, Paul braced his hands on the lever and peered through a hole in
the floor. Apparently satisfied, he gradually moved the handle from left to right,
unleashing a metallic grinding noise.

“The door in the dam’s opening,” he explained loudly. “It lets water in from the creek
to spin the wheel.”

She nodded again, looking down as water rushed in and over the paddles in the newly
repaired waterwheel. Once it was spinning, Paul moved away from the lever and pulled
a wooden handle on the far wall. It released the mechanics of the main saw, sending
belts over pulleys, back and forth, to drive the blade. The noise was deafening, but
the motion was even more remarkable. Once the contraption was in full gear, the entire
building shook with the power created by a modest stream and a bunch of leather belts.

She’d been here on tours in elementary school, but now Chelsea saw more than the interesting
mechanics of days gone by. She admired the genius behind the original design and the
skill required to bring all that creaky equipment back up to speed. While Paul had
completed only one of the four saw channels, it didn’t take much to envision the business
in full operation, churning out lumber for furniture and flooring the way it once
had.

After Paul powered everything down, she said, “This place used to be run by electricity.
What made you decide to go back to waterpower?”

“Waterwheels are cool,” he answered with a little boy’s enthusiasm. “That’s how it
was when Granddad was a kid, so I wanted it to be that way again.”

Again, she sensed there was more to tell, but she didn’t want to get sucked into the
charming picture he was painting for her, so she opted to keep things strictly professional.
“I have to admit, you’ve accomplished a lot in only a month.”

“That’s just the beginning. Like our business plan says, we want to start making custom
furniture again, under the Barrett’s Mill name. Folks love having something unique,
and that’s what we’ll give ’em. Everything will be ripped on the saws and handmade
by our own carpenters, so no two pieces will be the same.”

“All those shop classes you took are finally coming in handy.”

He took her teasing with an easygoing grin. “Yeah, but I’ve also got a secret weapon.”

“What’s that?”

Glancing around as if he was checking for spies, he moved close enough that she picked
up the scent of soap and hard work. It was a pleasant, masculine kind of smell, totally
different from the overbearing colognes so many of her coworkers were convinced women
loved. They reeked of trying way too hard, while Paul wasn’t trying at all. It set
him apart from all the other men she knew, and she sternly dragged her wandering attention
back to what he was saying.

“My brother Jason and I have been out in Oregon, working for a company that dredges
old timber from river bottoms to be used in modern mills. Back in the day, they used
to float trees down from the mountains, and a lot of the bigger ones sank. Some are
over a hundred years old, and they’re buried in the mud, just waiting for someone
to come along and salvage them. I worked out a deal with my old boss, and when we’re
ready, Jason’s gonna bring a load of them here for us to use.”

“Is there really a market for that kind of thing?”

“Sure is. That timber’s been seasoning a long time, and once you dry it out, it makes
great raw material.”

“And it has a story to go along with it,” she added, allowing herself a little smile.
“People love a good story.”

“You got that right. But I’ve been doing this with my own money, and that ran out
a couple weeks ago. We need some serious cash to get us back on track.”

His explanation tripped a switch in her mind, and things began falling into place.
“Is that why you’re driving that old sawmill truck?”

“Yeah. When Boyd and I got back here, I sold my crew-cab pickup to a guy over in Cambridge.
I really miss that truck,” he admitted with a sigh. “But what he paid me got me started
here, so it was worth it.”

She was struck by his commitment to reviving the mill, and as she considered what
he’d already accomplished on a shoestring budget, she realized his innovative idea
just might fly. In the current era of mass-produced everything, people craved one-of-a-kind
items that set them apart from the crowd. As Paul continued explaining the nuts and
bolts to her, his eagerness began to erode her professional skepticism.

If his motivation had been purely profit, she would’ve remained pessimistic about
his chances. But he’d sacrificed his beloved truck, which proved to her that money
was no more important to him now than it had been years ago. Since the tireless effort
he was putting in was inspired by the grandfather he adored, she knew Paul would do
everything in his power to be successful.

When he finally stopped, she said, “You’d build your marketing strategy around the
distinctive history of the town, I assume.”

He hesitated, and she knew she’d caught him on that one. True to form, though, he
grinned. “I’ll leave that to the experts. My job is to give them something interesting
to market.”

Good answer. Then again, the natural scholar and superjock she remembered from high
school had always had a ready comeback for everything. The guy was a born salesman,
but where the bank’s money was concerned, she wasn’t certain that what he was selling
was worth buying into.

“It’s not up to me.” His cocky grin faded a bit, and she felt a prick of guilt for
dashing his hopes. She felt an obligation to be honest with him, but reopening the
shuttered business clearly meant a lot to him. Out of respect for his feelings, she
softened her tone. “I’ll do my appraisal, then present it to the loan committee for
their consideration. The notes and pictures I’m taking today will help them make a
fair decision.”

“But you can sway them with the way you lay things out, right?”

The suddenly desperate edge to his voice didn’t jibe with the laid-back personality
he’d displayed until now. It made her uncomfortable, and out of habit, she fell back
on her usual detachment. “Sometimes. For now, I should get back to work.”

“Okay. I’ll be in here tinkering, so let me know if you need anything.”

As she resumed her assessment, she began to rethink her initial gut reaction. On paper,
Barrett’s Sawmill was the worst kind of project the bank could take on. But having
viewed it in person, she definitely saw potential in the old mill and its new owner.

The problem was, if Paul couldn’t turn a profit and defaulted on the loan, the loss
would be a black mark against her. But if she championed his idea and he succeeded,
she’d look like a financial whiz. Then she’d have a realistic shot at the vice president’s
position opening up when the head of her department retired at the end of the year.
This could be precisely what she needed to make a lasting impression on her father
and move her one precious step closer to her ultimate goal of running the bank someday.

Cautious by nature, this was a thorny decision for her, but she was starting to believe
the possible benefit just might outweigh the risk. The trick would be convincing a
room full of ultraconservative bankers to agree with her.

* * *

Chelsea Barnes, Paul thought while he painstakingly sharpened an old saw blade one
tooth at a time. Of all the people Theo Barnes could’ve sent to do this appraisal,
who’d have guessed he’d choose his tightly wound daughter?

While his visitor poked around, taking electronic notes on her tablet and snapping
pictures with a slick digital 35 mm camera, Paul tried not to watch her, but it was
tough. Somewhere along the line, the crazy-smart bookworm that lingered in his adolescent
memories had become one of the most beautiful women he’d ever met.

Not gorgeous like a model, he amended silently. She was too petite for that. But the
gray suit and crisp white blouse she wore set off her expertly twisted auburn hair
and vibrant green eyes to perfection. The earrings sparkling in the sunlight were
obviously diamonds, and more studded the slender gold watch that had probably cost
more than he made in a month. The two of them might’ve started out in the same tiny
town, but they’d ended up at completely opposite ends of the spectrum.

As she prowled around his domain, those keen eyes didn’t seem to miss a thing, lighting
with curiosity while she examined the machinery, narrowing when she glanced into the
darkness beyond the production area.

“What’s back there?” she asked, pointing with her stylus.

“I call it the tomb,” he joked. “Even Boyd won’t go back there.”

Clearly unamused, she angled a look at him, one elegant brow lifted in reproach. “That’s
nearly half your available floor space and will be included in the appraisal. If you
don’t currently have it in your plans, we’ll want to invent a use for it before the
board reviews your request.”

Paul couldn’t believe his ears. Was the ice princess of Barrett’s Mill High actually
stepping down from her glacier to help a peasant? His attitude must have showed, because
she turned to face him head-on.

She didn’t look happy. “Did I say something funny?”

“No. Why?”

“You were grinning,” she said haughtily, tilting her cute little nose in the air.
“I’m totally serious about this. You should be, too.”

She’d been serious about everything when they were growing up, too, he recalled grimly.
Always studying, never allowing anyone to discover if she had a lighter side. Chilled
by her frosty glare, Paul decided that despite the smile she’d given him earlier,
she hadn’t changed all that much. Not that it mattered to him either way. The only
approval he needed from her was financial.

When Boyd ambled over to say hello to her, Paul warned, “Not now, boy. The lady has
work to do.”

To his amazement, she crouched down and offered a delicate hand to the lumbering hound.
“Oh, I can take a break. Boyd, is it?”

The big oaf woofed at her and collapsed onto his side in a shameless plea for a belly
rub. With a quick laugh, she obliged. “There’s a good boy. How did you end up here,
anyway?”

“You mean, with me?” Paul poked a little fun at himself, hoping to share in her suddenly
generous mood. “He wandered into the logging camp I was working at, half-starved but
friendly as could be. I shared a cheeseburger with him, and here we are.”

She gazed up at him with something he’d never expected to see from her in a million
years: respect. “You saved his life. That’s amazing.”

Actually, Boyd had done more for Paul than the other way around, but he wasn’t comfortable
telling her that. Instead, he shrugged. “He’s a great dog, and he deserved a chance.”

“But you’re the one who gave it to him,” she pressed, standing to look Paul squarely
in the eye. He couldn’t imagine what might be going through that pretty head of hers
right now, but he was fairly certain he was better off not knowing. In his experience,
once you assumed you could determine what a woman was thinking, it was a sure sign
you were headed for trouble.

Big trouble.

Hoping to appear nonchalant, he folded his arms and leaned against a support post.
“So, any ideas for what I should claim I’m gonna do with that back room?”

After a moment, she replied, “It should be something that generates revenue aside
from the furniture business. The idea is to broaden your appeal and be less at the
mercy of the outside retail market. An area for woodworking classes or a gift shop
that sells specialty items people can only get here or on your website, something
like that.”

“Huh. I’ve done a lotta things in my life, but I’m not much of a teacher, and I wouldn’t
even know where to start designing a website.”

“If you don’t mind me asking,” she said, “what
have
you been doing?”

“Let’s see. When I was in Oklahoma, I worked in the oil fields. In Missouri, I did
some long-haul trucking. In Colorado, I worked on an alpaca farm.”