Dev glanced at him in surprise.
“After the festival, you could work on stocking in time for winter sports, and you’d have all winter to do the place up right and get ready for spring.”
Dev laughed. “You are adreamer.”
“Of course, it’s a big job for one guy. If you decide to go ahead and need some help, a few hours a day with a screwdriver or hammer wouldn’t kill me. Not for pay,” Frank added quickly. “I’d just be returning a favor. I’m sure you’d rather not spend your time riding herd on a bunch of old folks.”
Dev felt a flash of guilt. He’d thought that at first, until he’d started to get to know the folks at Sloane House.
“Days get a little long when you don’t have a job and can’t find one that suits,” Frank added into the long silence. “But I’ll understand if you don’t want anyone in the way.”
With the exception of the bomber hat he liked to wear, Frank looked like an elegant old guy, and he was certainly well-spoken. But the melancholy in his voice revealed the toll his situation has taken. “No luck with the job hunt yet, I take it.”
“I sent out another two résumés this week. But one look at my long years of experience, and anyone can guess my age. Yet I’m too young to retire, and have too many good years left to want that. And I willnotconsider public assistance.”
From the first moment he’d heard about his role in his mother’s last wishes for Sloane House, Dev had planned to do only what he had to, while guarding his personal distance from the boarders.
Camaraderie could save your life, but real friendship only led to sorrow when a good buddy died in action.
Over the years, he’d lost too many, so he’d developed a tough hide and an instinct for emotional survival.
But Frank, with his stubborn pride and the way he painstakingly dressed up each day in a well-worn suit and tie, as if doing so might help make his own dreams come true, was a man Dev was beginning to admire.
“Maybe I could use help. An employee.”
A corner of the man’s mouth lifted in a wry smile. “I didn’t mean to play a sympathy card, son. I don’t know the first thing about all this high-adventure outdoor stuff. I’m just an old man talking.”
In coming here today, Dev hadn’t meant to open a store, much less offer a job, but the unbidden words had tumbled out of his mouth.
Yet now, the possibilities in front of him sounded better by the minute.
“I’m going to crunch the numbers, like you suggested. If it looks good, I’ll let you know.” Dev felt his excitement over the idea growing. “But I sure couldn’t do it by myself.”
“Well...” Frank hesitated, though the new sparkle in his eyes gave him away. “Then I guess I’m your man. Just say the word.”
“I know you’re looking for a better career than this, though. There’ll be no hard feelings if you come across something else.”
Sirens wailed in the distance. Faded, then grew louder as they wound through town.
Frank’s snowy eyebrows drew together. “There’s a sound I never want to hear. In a small town like this, all too often they’re coming for someone I know.”
Both men turned toward the sound. A second later, an ambulance careened around a corner several blocks down and came roaring up the street, its sirens deafening and flashing lights blinding as it skidded to a stop in front of Beth’s bookstore.
Beth?Frozen in place for a split second, Dev stared. And then he started to run.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Help is here,” Beth said, gently placing a throw pillow under Janet’s head. “You’re going to be just fine.”
“I’m just glad there aren’t any customers here. If I’d landed on someone...” Janet groaned, her hands protectively laced over her belly, and her eyes closed. “I can’t believe I did this.”
“It could happen to anyone,” Beth soothed. She looked up expectantly when the front door crashed open and two fresh-faced young EMTs rushed in.
“She twisted her ankle.” Beth stood and stepped back out of their way as the two young women knelt at Janet’s side. “She fell over that step stool by the bookshelves. She didn’t want me to call nine-one-one, but I was concerned about the baby.”
The blonde, with “Teresa” embroidered on her shirt pocket, checked Janet’s pulse and flashed a penlight at her pupils while the brunette pulled out a stethoscope. “How far along are you, ma’am?”
“Seven months.” Janet looked up at her with a faint smile. “My teenage boys think I did this at my ‘advanced age’ just to embarrass them.”
