Their First Noel Page 8

  “You may be on to something.” He strode purposefully toward her, stopping under the same skylight as her. “Then you pair buttresses and beams?”

  His nearness made it hard for her to concentrate, hard for her not to just stand there and stare like a goof and think how cute he was, how sure and confident. She clicked off a pic of him.

  He sort of scowled and squinted, rubbing his eyes after the flash, “Why did you do that?”

  Good question. She had come here with clear goals in mind, entering the contest, seeing snow, finding her father. Meeting a great guy and harboring a monster crush was not on the list.

  “Got a picture of some initials.” She twisted her wrist to show him the photo she had captured of him and the ex-staff members’ graffiti behind his head. She glanced at the picture herself. “Hey, BJ loves BB. BB—those are my mom’s initials! If only that was a JW who loved BB, but still…” She flashed the photo his way again, glad for the distraction to cover for her actions. “Nice picture, huh?”

  Corrie shut her eyes and tried not to groan out loud. She had come out to the inn this morning determined to nudge Andy away from his almost stifling need to stick to a plan and instead she ended up lecturing herself on keeping her eyes on the prize. She opened her eyes again and found it difficult not to think that she was looking at a pretty worthy prize right now. Not that she’d give up her other goals but why couldn’t she add a sweet, brief Christmas romance to the list?

  People learn best by example, after all. Maybe the best way to get through to Andy would be to, well, get through to Andy.

  “I think this just might be your answer,” he said softly as he lowered his gaze from the beam overhead to her face.

  “I think you just might be right,” she murmured as she moved into cozy closeness, laid her hand on his chest and tipped her head up in perfect position to be kissed.

  “Corrie…” he brushed his knuckles over her cheek as he whispered, “Do you really think we should risk—”

  “What answer? Where? I want to see.” Greer pushed her way between them and craned her neck to look up. “Is it something somebody wrote?”

  “No.” Andy pulled his shoulders up and shifted his boots to create distance between himself and Corrie. Then he coughed into his hand and frowned up at the nearest beam. “It’s a structure thing. You have to get things in the right order before you can build on anything, Greer. That’s the answer. First things first, get the foundation and framework down, you can’t neglect that. It’s a priority that you’ve got to stick to.”

  He spoke to his sister but he meant it as a message to Corrie. She tried to take it well. That, after all, also demonstrated her philosophy that rolling with what life hands you is better than being so rigid.

  She took a step back and snapped three photos in a row of the beam over Andy’s head, then she lowered the camera without even checking the screen to see what she had captured and sighed. “So much for that. I guess I really did get my answer. C’mon, Greer, let’s get back to work in the kitchen.”

  Chapter Nine

  Awkward. That was the only way Andy could describe the rest of the day in the house after that near miss of a kiss in the attic. As Corrie whipped up more dough and created the buttresses out of it, he had wandered in and out of the kitchen. He’d say he wanted to check on the progress of the gingerbread inn when he came in, then after a few strained minutes announce he needed to go and check the progress of the drywall in the real inn’s dining room.

  Why he couldn’t just shrug it off and stay in the kitchen making small talk he didn’t know. Why did it matter? Corrie was just a woman, after all. Just passing through. Not part of the plan. And yet, when he looked into her eyes, when she touched his arm or teased him about his commitment to his plans, it mattered.

  He had contemplated that as he watched the workers putting up drywall. The old walls seemed perfectly straight at first glance. A quick and easy job requiring no special attention, the workmen thought they’d knock it out in no time. Then they got to work and found it almost impossible to get all the edges to meet up square and neat. They knew how to handle that, of course, but it meant they’d have to work longer, make some adjustments, change the plan.

  Andy couldn’t help comparing that to his relationship to Corrie. Two people with simple, straightforward goals who had special ties to this old inn, who seemed to both be headed in the right direction. To people like the mayor or Greer, even to Corrie herself, it might seem the two of them would make a great fit. But Andy believed that no matter how hard they tried to make it work, it could never quite come together.

  He wasn’t going to up and move to South Carolina. He certainly wouldn’t expect Corrie to move here. And even if she found her father nearby and moved to the area, what then? With her reckless approach to life, he’d find himself perpetually running to her rescue, always playing her champion with a safety net. His mom and sister still needed him too much. His business needed him. He’d committed himself not just to do restoration work but once he’d completed work on the Snowy Eaves, he dreamed of running it. He had enough to take care of without taking on Corrie Bennington.

  He had charted his course when he decided to restore and run this old inn and he had to stand by that.

  Then why couldn’t he get that girl off his mind? Even long after she had left that day, the smell of gingerbread in his kitchen kept tugging at the coattails of his concentration. Her face, her laughter, the way she pushed up those red glasses or clomped around in those big boots popped into his thoughts at the most inconvenient times.

  It always caught him by surprise, just as she had done at the community decorating party and when she came blustering into his life on the winds of that rainstorm. He thought of her as he worked on the inn and as he got a snack from the kitchen. He thought of her that night as he tucked Greer into bed and she asked for a story. Andy drew a blank.

  “I hadn’t planned on you being out here this long, kid. We’ve read all the books you brought from home.”

  “Corrie would have known a story,” Greer muttered.

  “Or just made one up on the spot.” His agreement came in more of a murmur than a mutter. “I bet it would have made you laugh, too.”

  Greer needed to laugh more, he thought at the time. But the next morning, as she went skipping off into her Sunday school room full of squealing kids in the church basement, he realized he’d been thinking of himself. He needed more laughter in his life. More fun. More than just work and worry. More…

  He looked around at the caregivers and teachers and family members taking kids to the nursery, the classrooms and the gym where they held the worship and praise service for high school and college-age people. People talked all at once. They greeted one another with open arms and open hearts.

  He needed more life in his life, Andy concluded and before he could try to imagine what that would look like—who that would look like—he hunched up his shoulders and scoffed.

  He didn’t have time for that right now. He had obligations. He had well-laid plans that needed his full focus. He couldn’t afford the distraction of—

  “A friendly face!” Corrie Bennington stood at the bottom of the stairs. “Am I ever glad to see you, Andy McFarland.”

  “And I’m…surprised to see you, Corrie.”

  “Yeah. I thought it would be okay if I skipped church this Sunday, being so far from home and all but then I woke up early this morning, all full of, well, energy. Wanting to get to work putting the inn together, ready to see how it would fit and if it would be like I dreamed it would be, you know?”

  “Actually, yes, I do know that particular feeling.” He nodded trying not to show how much it got to him to hear his own inclinations voiced by this woman who he couldn’t get out of his mind.

  “So I remembered this was your church and I thought, well, I’m awake and I want to go out to the inn when you’re done with church so here I am.” She held her hands up in a sign of surrender as a shy
smile broke slowly over her lightly glossed lips.

  “Here you are,” he echoed softly.

  “And here you are.” She jabbed her finger toward him. “Coming to my rescue once again.”

  “Rescue?” Red flag. The word made him retreat physically, and emotionally.

  “I kind of got turned around in this big ol’ church. Ended up in the gym.” She crinkled her nose not in distaste but sort of self-deprecating. “I think I’m a little mature for that crowd.”

  “I think you’d fit in wherever you go.” He relaxed again and put his hand on her back to gently guide her into turning around and heading up the stairway. “But I understand what you’re saying. The main sanctuary is this way. The service starts in about ten minutes.”

  As soon as they were headed in the right direction he could have let his hand drop from her back. But he didn’t. He told himself he was just being a good host, making sure she didn’t lose track of him in the bustle of churchgoers. Except that most of the churchgoers in this sleepy New England town were decidedly unbustling in their approach to worship. And if he had lost direct contact with her, he’d still have been able to pick her out amidst the rest of the congregation in her bright green sweater, white wool skirt, clunky boots, velvet headband with a sprig of fresh holly pinned to it and those red glasses framing her beautiful, sparkling eyes.

  “Do you have a certain pew where you like to sit?” She turned slightly to ask him over her shoulder.

  “I, uh…” He checked the clock in the lobby and winced slightly. The spot near the back by the door where he could slip in and out unnoticed had probably already been claimed by some other unmarried guy trying to stay out of the spotlight of well-meaning mamas with single daughters. “Why don’t we just go in and see what we can find?”

  “Sounds like a plan.” She raised her eyebrows and her lips twitched in a hint of a smile at his having to take her approach and improvise. She accepted a bulletin from the greeter and took a step toward the door of the sanctuary.

  With that she moved from the shelter of his touch. It didn’t seem to register with her but it made Andy’s hand feel suddenly cool and empty. Just the way, he suspected, his life would feel when Corrie Bennington left town for good in a few days.

  He took a deep breath and tried to shrug it off only to find a big hand clamped down on his own shoulder.

  “With that pretty little girl again, I see,” said the gruff, familiar voice of Larry Walker, the mayor’s husband. “First at the decorating party, then the lighting ceremony. Now church on Sunday. Have to say, son, for a fellow who’s avoided the big romantic-type commitments for as long as any a man can, when you fell, you fell hard.”

  “Fell?” A quick punch in the stomach better described how the man’s assessment felt to Andy. “I haven’t… I didn’t…”

  Larry worked his way on by and made his way to his usual spot with the other elders of the church on the second row.

  “Didn’t what?” Corrie asked as she smiled to Larry and led the way to the first open pew a few rows away.

  “Fall,” Andy said softly, watching her slip so easily into his church, his community and, if Larry was right, into Andy’s heart.

  Andy tried not to think too much about that as the bell choir did a performance of “The First Noel” that made Corrie’s expression move from melancholy, probably thinking of the broken snow globe, to a warm delight. While he didn’t have any trouble concentrating on the message of the sermon, he felt some relief that instead of hymns that would require him to stand close enough to share a hymnal with Corrie, they sang Christmas-themed songs that he knew without music.

  Afterward, he hustled her out of the sanctuary.

  “Can’t stop to talk.” He waved off someone approaching them and pointed Corrie toward the stairway to get Greer. “Got an inn to build.”

  “Which inn?” she asked. “Yours or mine?”

  “Both,” he said to remind himself as much as her that he had other obligations beyond baking and decorating. He had this one day for that and no more. They had to make the best use of their time. “So, what’s the game plan?”

  “We’re going to play a game?” Greer came winging around the edge of the open doorway, her smile beaming, with her black shoes and a bright red piece of paper in her hand.

  “That’s just an expression.” Andy plucked the shoes from the child’s small hands. The black flats slapped against the cold, hard floor as he plopped them down in a silent command for the kid to put them on so they could get going. “There is no game. There is no plan.” He turned to Corrie to prod her to give him an answer. “At least not yet.”

  She shot him a sweet but slightly smug smile then turned to Greer and bent to tell her, “Your brother is trying to nudge me into getting my entry done as soon as possible so he can get it—and me—out of his kitchen.”

  Andy did not deny it. Just being honest, he thought, but when he saw disappointment flicker in those eyes behind those flashy red frames, he felt like a real jerk. To cover that, he switched his focus. “Whatcha got there, kid?”

  “Something about the Christmas pageant.” She flapped the red paper as she balanced on one foot and then the other as she slid her feet into her shoes.

  “A Christmas pageant!” Corrie tried to snatch the page but every time she got close Greer bobbled and it fluttered away. “Are you going to be in it?”

  “Uh-huh.” Feet firmly planted, she looked and pointed toward her coat hanging on a row of hooks on the wall. “It’s on Wednesday and I’m going to be a Sarah.”

  Andy retrieved the small coat and held it out to his sister.

  “A…a Sarah? I don’t recall that name as part of the nativity story.” Corrie finally managed to nab Greer by the wrist. She took the paper and tucked it in Greer’s coat pocket as the two of them double-teamed the squirming eight year old to get her into her winter gear.

  “Sure you do. Sarah Finn. The one who said…” Greer wriggled free and headed for the steps, calling behind her as she did, “Behold I bring you good tidings of great joy which will be unto all people!”

  “Oh! A seraphim.” Corrie laughed, gave Andy a wink then swung her arm out to take Greer by the hand. “You did that line very well, by the way.”

  “Thank you.” Greer and Corrie climbed the stairs side by side leaving Andy to trail behind. “You have to be at least eight to have a line.”

  He considered moving in and just picking his sister up. Just to hurry things along, not because he didn’t want Greer to get too comfy with, too dependent on Corrie. Again, he wondered just who he was shielding with those kinds of inclinations.

  Surely not himself. He was the guy everyone else depended on. He was the guy who at not quite nineteen had single-handedly kept his family from losing everything after his father’s death.

  He paused on the steps for a moment making other families jostle him in their rush to get past. He hadn’t thought of the struggle after his father’s death in years. Why now? Because Corrie Bennington brought it out in him. She made him think about the way people depended on each other. About how, no matter how much you loved someone or how well your intentions, the person you trusted the most in the world could let you down, without even meaning to, because they didn’t think ahead.

  Corrie and Greer disappeared around the corner in the stairwell but Greer’s excited words carried downward to him. “Andy helped me memorize my part so my mom would be proud of me when she gets home to see me in the play.”

  A punch to the stomach would have had less impact on him. He took the steps two at a time, in order to reach them. He liked Corrie but it was Andy’s job to watch over Greer. He couldn’t leave that responsibility to just anyone.

  “That’s great. But you know, if your mom can’t get here by then, let’s make a pinkie promise that you won’t forget your line so you can do the whole thing for her when she does get home.” Corrie said it with such kindness and enthusiasm that it made Greer clap her hands with joy.
Corrie glanced behind her and smiled. “You promise to help her do that, Andy?”

  “I promise.” He exhaled and chuckled softly. Corrie wasn’t just anyone. He looked at the woman, then at his sister. “I promise to help you do that, Greer, even if I have to play every other role myself.”

  Chapter Ten

  “Do the donkey sound again!” Greer squirmed on a stool pulled up to the island in the inn’s spacious kitchen.

  Andy lowered his head. His shoulders lifted and then fell. He groaned. Then he seemed to reach down into the depths of what Corrie decided was the place where his good-guy-who-always-tries-to-put-things-right-and-doesn’t-want-anyone-to-see-him-look-silly met his adoring big-brotherness. He lifted his head as he let out a comical “Eee-yaw! Eee-yaw!”

  Greer clapped her hands and giggled.

  Corrie couldn’t help laughing, too. She also couldn’t fight back feeling touched by the sweetness of a tough guy like Andy so willing to prove he could help his little sister reenact the nativity play. She pressed her lips together. Since the first time she had walked into this inn her emotions had gone round and round in an amazing mix of joy, anxiety and nostalgia for things she’d never known.

  And hope. Hope for snow. Hope for finding her father. Hope for finding her own way. Hope for…

  She didn’t even know what she hoped for, only that seeing Andy like this made her want that elusive unnamed thing more than anything she’d ever hoped for before.

  Andy laughed and gave Greer a hug. His gaze flicked up and his eyes met Corrie’s.

  Her breath stopped. She thought she smiled. Maybe she twitched. She knew she blushed by the rush of heat she felt in her face. Flustered, she spun around to hunch over her work to place the last piece of the gingerbread roof in place. “Well, you’ve done it again, Andy.”