Lisa and Liz were put in charge of removing outdated wallpaper from the rooms, Jennifer and Carissa assigned to the kitchen. Dan's sisters-in-law had even raided their own cupboards, filling the cabinets with surplus pots and pans and stocking the freezer with enough meals to last a month.
The men armed themselves with rakes and fanned out across the yard while Angela and her two older granddaughters, Emily and Amanda, planted bright-yellow marigolds along the sidewalk leading up to the front door. Which left Gin and Evie in charge of painting the nursery.
“Looking good, you two!” Liz poked her head through the doorway. The undisputed fashionista in the Moretti family, Dan's sister had dressed for the work day in a cute pair of khaki shorts and a striped T-shirt that coordinated with the colorful bandana that covered her sable-brown hair.
“Thanks.” Evie took advantage of the momentary interruption to knead away a kink in her lower back. “Are you finished with the downstairs already?”
“Uh-huh. Lisa and I are about to start taking down the wallpaper border in the bathroom at the end of the hall.” Liz waggled her fingers. “Good-bye, red canoes. Time to take your cute, little pinecones and bear cubs and sail back to the eighties.”
Gin grinned as Liz ducked out of sight. “I feel like I've been transported into one of those home-makeover shows.”
Not Evie. Evie felt as if she'd been transported back in time.
She hadn't been inside Max's childhood home since . . . for years. The house had gone through several different owners after Betty and Neil sold it and left town, but there were things even new carpeting and a fresh coat of paint couldn't hide. Like the dent Max and Dan had put in the wall when they'd tried to shoot a potato
out of a Nerf gun. The notches in the trim board that surrounded Max's closet, measuring his height at every birthday.
Evie wondered if that was the reason Betty and Neil had moved. Because the memories crowding the air made it difficult to breathe.
“
I still can't believe Raine is going to live here.”
“Next door to Dan's parents?”
“In a house.” Gin traced a finger over the windowsill, her gaze drawn to the people in the backyard.
Dan's brothers were all busy: Will and Stephen were in the process of reseeding bare spots in the lawn while Trent, wielding a hedge clipper, was locked in battle with the overgrown shrub the home's previous owners had planted at the end of the stone wall separating the two yards.
Evie glanced at Gin and realized she wasn't joking. “You've never lived in a house?”
“The double-wide on Fifth Avenue is the closest we got.”
Downstairs someone cranked up the volume on the radio. At the end of the hall a series of thumps and bumps, accompanied by shrieks of laughter, told Evie that Liz and Lisa were attempting to choreograph the number.
“They're kind of a noisy bunch, aren't they?” Evie smiled. “Don't worry, you'll get used to them.”
“I'm already getting used to them.”
“You say that as if it's a bad thing.”
“It's a
different
thing.”
The flash of vulnerability in Gin's eyes offered a glimpse of her past. What had life been like for her, moving from city to city? Raising Raine on her own?
Evie had been blessed with a strong support system. Dan and his family. The firefighters at Second Street Station. The congregation at Hope Community, who had voted to pay her for taking
charge of women's ministries, a position ordinarily filled by a volunteer, because they knew Evie needed the additional income.
“The Morettis love you.” Evie had watched them gently draw Ginevieve into the family fold over the past few weeks.
Dan, who'd been tossing branches into the bed of his pickup, suddenly looked up at the window. The slow smile he aimed at Gin brought an instant blush to her cheeks, one that made her look more like a teenager than a grown woman.
“And so does someone else,” Evie teased.
“I'm still getting used to that too,” Gin confessed. “Dan is just . . . well, Dan is amazing. And scary.”
“Scary?”
“It's like he knows what I'm thinking before
I
know what I'm thinking. I don't have to pretend. Or hide. I can just be . . .
me
. Does that make any sense?”
A memory pierced Evie, so sharp and unexpected it hurt to breathe.
The warm brush of Jack Vale's fingers against her skin. The understanding in his silver-gray eyes.
“I know that turning the other cheek can be painful.”
Evie turned away from the window, unsettled by emotions that, like Gin, she was afraid to name.
“I'm sorry.” Gin bit her lip. “What am I talking about? Of course it makes sense to you. You were married to Max . . . and I know how much you must miss him.”
“It'sâ”
Fine, Evie?
“All right.”
But it wasn't.
Because for the first time in a long time, Max wasn't the man Evie had been thinking about.
K
eith Anderson's office was the masculine version of Evie's. Plush, dark-green carpeting. Comfortable leather chairs angled in front of a walnut desk that spanned the width of the room. Wildlife prints on the wall. A tiny box plugged into an outlet next to the filing cabinet dispersing an invisible puff of pine-scented fragrance into the air every two minutes.
Jack had yanked the thing out of the wall and opened the window a crack when he'd vacuumed the building on Friday.
The door was open a few inches, but he knocked anyway. Pastor Keith looked up from his computer monitor and smiled.
“Morning, Jack.” Keith gestured toward the chair on the opposite side of the desk. “Come on in. Have a seat.”
Jack would have preferred to stand up while he was being fired, but he sat down anyway, just to be polite.
“I'm sorry we haven't had an opportunity to talk until now, but I've been playing catch-up since the conference, and then there was the wedding.”
Yes. The wedding.
But Jack's mind didn't automatically conjure up images of roses and white lace and wedding cake. No, he saw Evie's blue eyes staring up at him. Felt her pulse jump underneath his fingertips.
Because you scared her, you idiot.
“I have to admit I don't usually hire people on the spot, but Harvey had just called from the airport, and we had that problem with the water,” Keith went on. “I'd just asked God for a little help, and there you were. I try to pay attention to divine appointments.”
So did Jack. A city crew had been repainting the lines at the four-way stop on Main Street, forcing him to take an alternate route from the bank back to Travis's house. Jack had spotted Hope Community's marquee at the end of a quiet, tree-lined street. And felt The Nudge.
His first impulse was to keep right on going.
The church he attended in Milwaukee met in an old theater.
Depending on the time of year, the temperature in the building could either cause third-degree burns or frostbite, but what it lacked in members it more than made up for in enthusiasm. After the service, the worship team took their instruments out on the sidewalk and played another hour or two. The next Sunday, there would be a few more people hunched in the back row of musty chairs, eyes riveted on the floor, hearts finding their rhythm in the opening notes of “Amazing Grace
.
”
Jack had fit right in.
Hope Community, with its steeple and stained glass windows, looked so . . . tidy.
But a nudge was a nudge, so he pulled into the parking lot to check it out. There were only a few cars, so he'd figured he could take a quick look inside without drawing any attention. Except that a harried-looking woman with an armload of towels had almost taken him out when he'd stepped into the foyer.
“Good morning! I'll be with you in a minute,” she'd called over her shoulder. “Our custodian isn't here, and we're having a bit of a crisis.”
Jack hadn't thought twice about following her down the hall.
There'd been a heavy rain during the night, and water had flowed down one of the walls in the nursery, loosening the wallpaper border decorated with Noah's arks and soaking into the carpet.
Two men were studying the ceiling when Jack came in.
“We sprang a leak,” the one in the plaid shirt and cargo pants said cheerfully. “We're just trying to figure out the easiest way to get to these pipes.”
Jack took one look at the damage and knew the pipes weren't the issue. “Did you check the roof?”
“Can't be the roof.” His companion's gray eyebrows hitched together over his nose. “It's brand new. A group of volunteers just replaced it a few weeks ago.”
Exactly why, Jack thought, it could be the roof. “I can take a look at it. I'm familiar with construction.”
He could almost hear Coop snort.
“Thank you.” The man in the plaid shirt aimed the words at the ceiling and then smiled at Jack. “I'm Pastor Anderson, by the way. And this is Mort Swanson.”
“Nice to meet you.” The older man still looked a little disgruntled when he gripped Jack's hand.
Just as Jack suspected, the flashing hadn't been installed properly, leaving a gap where the two additions met. He'd explained the problem over a cup of coffee and ended up with a temporary position at the church.
Very temporary, if Jack was right about why he was here.
Keith cleared his throat. “I talked to Evie Bennett yesterday.”
Here it comes.
Jack's spine straightened.
“She reminded me the church picnic is coming up in two weeks. I don't know where the time has gone.” Keith shook his head and slid a piece of paper across the desk. “Here's the name of the rental company Harvey has used in the past. He oversees the setup that day.”
“Picnic?” Jack stared down at the colorful brochure.
“It's an annual event. We always have it the weekend
after
the Fourth of July because the attendance is better. A cookout, carnival games for the kids. I realize this is short notice, but we don't expect you to handle all the details yourself. Dan Moretti's men's group is in charge of grilling the hot dogs and burgers, and the women's ministry team takes care of everything else. Did you get a chance to meet Evie at the wedding?”
Fortunately, Keith didn't wait for Jack to respond. Because his response would have to be
Actually, we met a few months ago in my brother's backyard
.
She had a bag of groceries
. . .
I had a baseball bat.
And she'd lingered in Jack's mind for days afterward.
“Evie's worked at Hope Community for thirteen years. Her office is right next door to mine.” Pastor Keith pointed to the wall on Jack's left. “If you have any questions, she knows the answers and she'll be more than willing to help you out.”
Jack wasn't so sure about that.
The pastor's gaze shifted to something beyond Jack's shoulder, and he smiled. “Tell Mort I'll be there in a minute, Pauline.”
Jack took that as his cue to leave. He rose to his feet, still a little stunned by what had just happened.
He'd walked into Keith Anderson's office expecting to be fired, and instead he'd been put in charge of a picnic. He could almost hear God chuckling.
I believe, Lord. Help my unbelief.
Not the most eloquent prayer Jack had come across in the Bible, but definitely one of the most honest. And one he repeated at least half a dozen times a day.
Fishing the keys from the pocket of his jeans, Jack unlocked the door of the custodian's room and stepped inside. It was a little intimidating, the way Harvey Kinnard kept the space as smudge-free and pine-scented as the rest of the building. The cleaning supplies on the shelf were even alphabetized.
If Pastor Keith had seen Jack's apartment, he might have thought twice about hiring him. But then again, Jack's landlord wouldn't have given him a break on the rent if fixing up the building hadn't been part of the deal.
The toe of Jack's boot bumped into something on the floor. A box filled with plastic trophies that he guessed had something to do with the church picnic.
And so did the line of new Post-it notes that papered the wall.
He recognized Evie's neat handwriting on each one. Tent rental. Booths for carnival games. Bunting. Grills.
Pastor Keith had recommended that Jack talk to Evie if he had any questions.
Well, he did.
And none of them would fit on a Post-it note.
E
vie had been the director of women's ministries for so long she knew the exact order in which her team of volunteers would arrive for their bimonthly meeting.
Sonya Olson and Jill Claremont rode together but parted company in the foyerâSonya to chat with Pauline, who happened to be her first cousin, and Jill to check her lipstick in the restroom mirror. Belinda Mullins inevitably bolted through the door ten seconds before Evie opened the meeting in prayer, the hem of her denim jumper flapping against her ankles, patchwork bag dragging across the floor like a loose tailpipe. While everyone bowed their heads, Belinda would be plumbing the depths of the bag to retrieve a pen that seemed equally determined to elude capture.
But this Monday morning, Evie was the one running late.
Cody had called while she and Diva were taking their morning walk.
“Hey, Mom! Miss me?”
“Do I miss you?” Evie pretended to mull that over. “Mmm. No dishes in the sink. No wet towels on the bathroom floor. No shoes in the front hall.”
“So, yes?”
Evie closed her eyes for a moment, soaking in Cody's laughter like a warm summer rain. “Yes.”
“Raine and I will be back on Saturday afternoon, but we're going to stop over and pick up the rest of my stuff if that's all right with you.”