In a Moon Smile (33 page)

“I feel rebellious,” Becca grinned as she dusted off the seat with her hand. “I feel like I’m in a movie.”

“You might look less like a Chicago city slicker, if you traded those chunky sandals for a pair of my work boots,” Chesney laughed. Then she rolled the driver’s side window down. As they made their way along the winding road, the warm wind caught in their hair.

“You really don’t miss the city?” Becca asked.

Chesney emphatically shook her head.

“Even on weekends?” Becca asked. “By the way, what
do
you do with your time?”

“I paint,” Chesney said with a shrug.

“What will you do when there’s nothing more to remodel?” Becca asked. “Then what?”

Frankly, Chesney hadn’t thought about that. Maybe she avoided that possibility because she wasn’t sure there would ever be a day when all the house projects were truly finished. “I guess I’ll worry about that when the time comes,” she said. “Right now I’m grateful to be so busy. Every time I complete a project, Chesney Ridge takes on more beauty, you know? And I never get tired of how quiet it is and how beautiful it is. Every day, I’m surrounded by so many beautiful things; the land, the flowers and trees, the house, the quiet.”

“You’ve never been homesick for Chicago?” Becca asked.

Again, Chesney shook her head. “Bec, I absolutely love to write here. I mean this from the bottom of my heart, okay? I truly do love everything about everything in this tiny community. I finally feel like I belong somewhere. I’m happier than I have ever been in my life.”

Becca reached across the torn vinyl seat and squeezed Chesney’s hand. “I’m proud of you,” she shouted over the loud motor and the open windows. “I’m really proud of you, Chez. What you did required a lot of courage. You chose your adventure and you’ve obviously made it work for you.”

By late afternoon, they scrounged through a few antique shops, munched on fried biscuits and apple butter at a small restaurant and proudly returned to Bean Blossom with a couple of chairs for the study and a rather neglected looking hutch for the kitchen.

Dalton met them in the driveway, wearing that beautiful smile. She hated it and would never, ever admit it to Becca, but Chesney felt her heartbeat quicken the moment she saw the handyman’s face. She didn’t dare look over at Becca. But then again, eye contact wasn’t necessary, anyway. Becca knew her so well that she probably already analyzed the animal lust Chesney experienced whenever Dalton was within range for fantasy.

“You know he’s gorgeous,” Becca whispered as the truck got closer to the smiling man. “You know you want to remove his shirt with your teeth.”

“Bec, shut up,” Chesney hissed frantically. “What if he hears you saying that?”

“Well if he hears me saying it then I guess Dalton can finally stop wondering which convent you came from,” Becca said flatly. “I guess I’ll have to be the one to assure the poor guy that you actually do have a vagina and that yes, as a matter of fact, you’ve even used it a few times.”

“Oh, my gosh, you mortify me,” Chesney squealed. Then she parked the truck next to Dalton’s and whispered to Becca to please behave herself.

“Wow! Perfect choices, Chez,” Dalton said happily when he saw the antique pieces in the truck bed. “You scored big today on the bargains, right?” Dalton helped Chesney unload the hutch while Becca grabbed the chair. “So what else did you girls do today?” he asked. “Becca, what did you think about the antique shops in Nashville?”

“Great fun,” Becca said with a broad smile. “We had a great time.”

Once they managed to move the hutch inside and scoot it carefully against the far wall, Chesney ran her fingertips along the beveled glass doors. “This piece of worn out furniture will be my winter project,” she said to Becca. “I’ll take my time to rejuvenate it. By the time I strip all that old paint off and take it back to the original wood, my new purchase will be beautiful and my new home will see its first spring as a happy place.”

“What will you do when there are no more projects?” Becca asked again.

“There’s always a project,” Chesney said softly. Then she carefully studied the chair, which was a salmon color and gold toile print. Immediately, she decided to place it near the window in the library. When Chesney saw that it fit perfectly next to the bookcase, she smiled happily “I love it,” she sighed. “In fact, every single day, I love this place more.”

“I still can't believe how you've transformed this house,” Becca smiled.

Glancing at the clock on the kitchen wall, Chesney said, “There's one more activity on my agenda for today.” While Becca and Dalton stared at her, waiting to hear the plan, Chesney turned to walk out of the kitchen. “I am now on my way upstairs to bring Grace's rocking chair from the attic.”

“I'll help,” Becca said quickly.

An odd expression crossed Dalton's face as he watched the two friends climb the stairs. Was that fear in his eyes? Concern? Why in the world would Dalton have such an unusual response to the news that Chesney was going into the attic?

“You got the door unlocked?” Dalton asked casually.

“I pried it open a few days ago,” Chesney said. “How did you know the attic door was locked? Did you lock it?”

“I've been all over this house,” Dalton said with a shrug. “I didn't know if you might want some work done in the attic.”

His answer did not feel honest, especially when Chesney realized that Dalton actually never answered her question about whether he had been the one to lock the attic door. Instead of pressing the issue, she led Becca up the stairs to the attic room.

“Watch your head,” she warned as the attic door swung open. “These slanted ceilings make for some tight places in here.” She scanned the boxes and trunks, biting her lip. “I thought Grace's rocking chair would look perfect next to the fireplace,” Chesney said. “I also thought about displaying some of her favorite hats and gloves on the library wall.What do you think?”

“Sounds amazing,” Becca said as she gingerly made her way around the boxes.

They sat down on the attic floor and carefully opened the hat boxes.

“Your grandmother had wonderful taste,” Becca breathed. “These hats are so beautiful, Ches. But you said she raised your dad on her own, and that she struggled financially for most of her life. So where would a seamstress from Bean Blossom wear such lovely things? And how was she able to afford them?”

“The Chesney family was actually quite wealthy,” Chesney said as she inspected the red felt hat with tiny flowers embroidered on the brim. “Grace grew up right here on Chesney Ridge. Her father operated a very successful lumber mill. But by the time Grace married Richard Blake and moved to Lexington, Kentucky, the family business had hit hard times. When Richard left Grace and my dad behind, Grace moved from Kentucky back to Chesney Ridge. She cared for both of her parents until they died. And that was that. She struggled to keep the place in the family.”

“Another story of yet another wonderful woman destroyed by love,” Becca said in a low voice. She didn’t want to feel such negativity, especially after the feeling her heart got from Deke Wooldridge’s eyes. But too many disappointments had crowded into Becca’s life. It would be a hard sell to completely convince her that all men weren’t useless liars and cheats.

“Don’t view Grace that way,” Chesney said a bit more harshly than she intended. “She wasn’t destroyed, Bec. Her life was harder to live with only one income, but Richard never stopped Grace’s life. Her life was filled with happiness and she was surrounded by lots of people who loved her.”

“I didn’t mean to sound disrespectful,” Becca said quickly. “I just…I guess I assumed that because Grace never remarried…I guess I shouldn’t have assumed that she wasn’t alone only because he broke her heart.”

Chesney dropped her eyes, knowing that she reacted so strongly because she was afraid that she was following in Grace’s lonely shoes. She was afraid of being viewed by others in the exact same way Becca viewed Grace; as a discarded, neglected woman whose life was destroyed by a bad love. “Be right back,” Chesney said in a low voice. “I want to show you something.” Then she quickly went to her bedroom to get the photograph of the mystery man. “Look at this,” Chesney walked back into the attic. “I found this photo in one of Grace's scrapbooks.”

While Becca studied the man's smiling face, Chesney looked over her shoulder, still trying to solve the big mystery. “Bec, here’s the weird part. I'm fairly certain this is the man who sobbed near Grace's casket during the funeral,” Chesney said. “Remember when I told you about him?”

“Who do you think he is?” Becca asked with huge, curious eyes.

“I think he might be Richard Blake, my grandfather,” Chesney said. “If that's who he is, then we know Richard was around Chesney Ridge at least a few years before Grace died. See, the picture was taken by the pond in back of this house.”

“Why would Grace take him back after he abandoned her and your dad?” Becca asked. “That doesn't make sense to me, Chez. From everything you've told me about your grandmother, she had far too much pride to allow Richard Blake to step back into her life. Plus, do you really think she would take him back but keep it a secret from your father?’”

“I don't know the answers to any of those questions. I don’t even know how to find the identity of this man,” Chesney said. “But here’s something to think about, Bec, what if my grandmother had a different side to her life? What if she led a double life? What if there were parts of her life that I never knew?”

“Well if that’s a possibility, Chez, then your grandmother didn’t disclose the information because it wasn’t your business,” Becca said in a low voice. “Maybe she wants it to stay that way. Maybe you should just put the photos back where you found them and leave it alone.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Chesney mumbled. Becca’s comments caused a bit of guilt to rumble around in Chesney’s conscience, but then again…

To change the subject, Chesney opened several heavy hat boxes. She and Becca chose a few of Grace’s favorite hats and three pairs of gloves. When the painting was complete, Chesney intended to decorate the library with Grace’s favorite things.

When she stood to stretch her legs, Becca walked over to the attic window and looked outside at the quiet, two-lane road. She thought of Deke, wondered what he might be doing at that very moment and tucked away the warm feeling. “It's getting dark outside, Chez. Let’s go downstairs and make some decisions about dinner.”

Without a word, Chesney gathered the hats and gloves, followed Becca out of the attic and carefully placed the stack of Grace’s belongings on the closet shelf of her bedroom. “Wow, I’m suddenly starving,” she said to Becca. “And I’m thinking an appetizer of wine and more wine would sound great, too. What do you think?”

When Chesney got to the bottom step, she was stunned to see Dalton. He was on the ladder, installing a beautiful new fixture above the dining room table. “You're still here?” she smiled at Dalton as Becca walked a few steps behind her.

“I thought I'd finish installing the new fixtures before I leave for the day,” Dalton said. “I probably won’t be here tomorrow. I promised Deke I’d do some work for him at the hardware store.
So ...”

“Oh,” Chesney remembered now that Dalton had said he wouldn’t be here every day this week. To hide her disappointment about that, Chesney commented on the beautiful new lights and how they created such ambiance.

“Hey, Dalton, why don’t you stay for dinner?” Becca said suddenly. “I'm making spaghetti. And Chez will throw together some salad.”

Chesney shot a ‘shut the hell up’ look at Becca which was quickly and completely ignored.

Instead, she watched nervously as Becca walked over to the ladder and said firmly, “We won’t accept no as an answer. You’ve worked such long hours to help breathe life back into this house. The very least we can do is invite you for dinner.” Becca inhaled loudly and happily added, “I happen to be quite amazing when it comes down to making meatballs. So you wouldn’t want to miss that, would you?”

“Well...” Dalton blushed slightly, looked a bit uncomfortable and looked over at Chesney as if he was telepathically asking permission to stay.

“We would love for you to stay for dinner, Dalton,” Chesney said nicely.

As she and Becca disappeared into the kitchen, Chesney caught hold of her friend’s skinny little elbow. “Just what do you think you’re doing?” she hissed. “Why in the world did you ask Dalton to stay for dinner?”

“Why not ask him?” Becca yanked her elbow from Chesney’s pinching fingers. “Why is that a problem for you, Chez? The guy works here non-stop. In fact, I think it’s awfully rude that you have not yet invited him to share a meal with you at the end of the day.” Becca puffed up her chest like she always did when she felt extremely correct about something. “I guess I don’t see why it’s a big deal, Chez. It’s certainly not like you’ve got potential boyfriends knocking your door down.”

“Oh, my god,” Chesney rolled her eyes and puffed out her cheeks. “What a big smart-ass you are, Bartlett. Let’s not forget that you’re not beating crowds of men away from your doorstep, either.”

As if she hadn’t heard a single word Chesney said, Becca waltzed around the kitchen, gathering pasta, olive oil, tomatoes. “Single guy. All alone in the world. Misses home cooking...” Becca said in a sing song voice. She walked up behind Chesney, who by then was busy slicing mushrooms. “And the guy is hot for his hag of a homeowner…need I go on?” Becca barely escaped Chesney’s grabbing hands and grinned. “And so, Chez, it was up to me to invite Dalton to be our house guest. I knew you would never ask him on your own.”