A Handful of Heaven

Just the telemarketers and him.

He’d always known his boys were a great blessing. He’d given thanks to the Lord every night as he’d lain down to sleep, but he’d never stopped to see the treasured gift that each day really was, and that, for all of those eighteen years, they were surprisingly fleeting.

“Well, that should just about do it.” Phil the plumber tried to stomp the snow off his work boots. But considering the mud he’d picked up from the crawl space, it was a hopeless cause anyway. “I’ve double-checked the length of the pipes and couldn’t find a drop anywhere. I think we’ve got the problem licked.”

“Music to my ears. Thank you.” Paige dropped the scrub brush into the soapy bucket, where she’d been cleaning the water line against the bathroom wall. “I appreciate this so much. I know it was a long drive out here, and it’s going to be worse going back.”

“Before you get all misty on me…” He gave a friendly—but not too friendly—wink. “I’ve got bad news. You’re gonna have to replace some of this pipe. It’s gonna be expensive, and if you want, I can work up an estimate. I can either do it for all new water lines, or I can do it in phases and we can just do the worst stuff first. You just let me know.”

Bad news? Did he say bad news? No, he had that wrong; this was devastating news. The small allotment she put faithfully into the savings account every month for repairs would never be enough. She didn’t have to go grab the latest bank statement to know that she couldn’t afford to replumb the entire diner.

She also knew how lucky she’d been tonight. The damage could have been worse, and as it was, she could open for business as usual in the morning. She’d only lost three hours of business tonight. Not bad, considering. Heaven was gracious, as always, and she was thankful. “Why don’t you work up the bit-by-bit estimate?”

“Fine by me. I’ll send it with my bill.”

Already dreading the amount due, she handed him a sack with the last of the cinnamon rolls. “A little something for your breakfast tomorrow. You drive safely out there now.”

“I’ve got four-wheel drive.” Phil hefted his big toolbox to the door and stopped to retrieve his parka. “I’ll get the stuff in the mail on Monday. Thanks, ma’am.”

When had she become a “ma’am”?

Probably about the same time her son had learned to drive. Thank God for hair color that covered the gray and intensive eye cream. Worry could do that to a girl. Stress was her middle name these days, and that combined with her age didn’t help. She wasn’t quite sure where all the time had gone—wait, erase that. She did. She’d spent probably seventy-five percent of the last twenty-two years right here in this diner.

After seeing Phil out and locking the door behind him, she glanced at the clock. The movie ought to be getting out about now. Great, she could get back to worrying about Alex being out there on these roads. Maybe what she needed to do was to expend some of that nervous energy and clean.

So she kept her eye on the clock as she scrubbed down the grill and wiped the counters, tables and chairs. Then she tackled the rest of the floor that hadn’t been flooded, mopping until the tile squeaked beneath the mop head and her cell phone was ringing in her back pocket.

A quick glance at the caller ID window revealed her home number. Good. That meant Alex was home safe and sound—and even five minutes before his curfew. How great was that? “Hey there. How was the movie?”

“Good. You can stop worrying now. Notice the time? I’m calling you before eleven. What do you think about that?”

“It’s unprecedented, and it makes me suspicious. Worry and suspicion are a mother’s job.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. So, are you gonna be home soon?”

That question made her suspicious, too. “You didn’t happen to notice a leak in the bathroom before you bugged out of here, did you?”

“Nope. I’d have told ya, even though Beth was waiting for me. Why? What’d I do?”

“Nothing. I had a leak in a pipe, that’s all. Are you getting ready for bed, or are you going to get lost in your new video game?

“Uh, nope, I wasn’t playing my X-Box, but thanks for reminding me, Ma.” He sounded pleased with himself. “Just kidding. You want me to go out and feed the horse for you?”

He was volunteering to do barn work? There had to be something wrong. That wasn’t normal teenage behavior. “Okay, what did you do?” Expecting the worst, Paige hefted the bucket toward the kitchen. “Don’t tell me you dinged the truck.”

“No way.”

“Hit somebody on the way home?”

“Hey, I’m innocent. I’m just trying to help my poor tired mom.”

Help? Now she was suspicious. She maneuvered the bucket up to the industrial sink and up-ended it. “Okay. Out with it, young man. What did you do? What are you trying to soften me up for?”

“Nothing. I just thought I’d be a good son for a change.” There was a grin in his voice. “Don’t worry.”

“Yeah, I’m still suspicious, though.”

“You go right ahead, Mom. You’ll see.” He sounded extraordinarily happy.

Could it be her son was moving past the surly teenager stage that even the best of kids went through? No, that was too much to hope for. “I’ll see you when I get home. I’ll be leaving in about ten minutes. Think you can have your teeth brushed and your prayers said by the time I get there?”

“Aye, aye, captain.” With a chuckle he clicked off the phone.

Yep, something was definitely up with that boy. She snapped the cell shut, slipped it back into her pocket and rinsed the bucket. Done. Well, done enough for now.

She was beat; she usually put in more hours than this staying later on weekend nights. Maybe it was the worry and upset over the water pipe. She felt as if she’d worked two twelve-hour shifts back to back.

But the moment she stepped outside and locked the back door, she saw her journey wasn’t going to be an easy one. She still had to remove the snow coating her SUV and chip away at the ice frozen solid to the windows before she could even think about trying to drive. And once she was on her way, the roads would be more than a challenge.

Twenty minutes later, falling snow pelted her trusty Jeep with big wet flakes, and it was impossible to see more than a few inches in front of her. The accumulation on the road was sloppy and tricky to drive in. It caught at the wheels and tossed the vehicle every which way, so she slowed to a crawl to navigate through the town streets and along the county road where other vehicles’ tires had mashed the mire down into an icy compact crust.

When she turned off onto the private road, she relaxed a bit. Almost home. The evergreens and cottonwoods lining the lane were bent low from the heavy snow and scraped at the top of her Jeep; that’s when it got tough going. She fought the wheel to stay on the narrow road.

Only two other sets of tire tracks marked the way in the otherwise absolute darkness. One set, which was almost snow filled, veered off down a long, tree-lined drive. Evan Thornton’s place. The remaining tracks had to be her son’s and led her a few more miles into the hills, up her driveway and into the shelter of her garage.

Thank heaven. She was home and in one piece, and not that much worse for wear. Lights flicked on and there was Alex, holding open the inside door, already in a flannel T-shirt and pants she’d gotten him for Christmas. His blond hair was rumpled and in serious need of a cut. His dog panted at his side. “Hey, Mom. I was just nuking some cocoa. Want some?”

“Are you kidding? I’d love a cup.”

“Cool.” He flashed her a quick grin and disappeared behind the door, the dog, Max, loping along after him.

As she gave the door a shove, her back popped. Great. That was going to be the next disaster. Her back was going to go out. Every joint she owned creaked. Wasn’t life eventually supposed to be easier, Lord? Or are You trying to tell me something?

She rescued her purse from the floor, along with the small paper sack with the last two cinnamon rolls. She had to wonder, as she elbowed through the door and into the laundry room, whether God was sending her a sign.

Every time she tried to get ready to sell the diner for good something happened to hold her firmly here. In the last six months, her sister Rachel had married and moved away, the roof had needed to be replaced and now the plumbing. Those repairs would erode a big chunk of the savings she’d been squirreling away. Not good.

Then again, it was never a true disaster, either. The Lord might be trying to tell her something, but He always made sure she had help, too. The image of Evan Thornton flashed into her mind. Tall, broad-shouldered, he had the kind of quiet strength that made a woman sigh and wish—even a woman like her who did not place any faith in the non-constant nature of men.

Sure, some men were constant, but it was a rare thing. The trouble was, it would be easy to start believing Evan was one of those kind of men. He’d helped out tonight without expecting more than a thank-you. And what was it he’d said? Glad I could make a difference. He had his heart in the right place. Why had it seemed that he was so sad? Not depressed-sad, just…lonely-sad. He hadn’t wanted to go home to an empty house.

It hit her the moment she saw her strapping son at the microwave, punching the buttons. Hadn’t Evan’s youngest boy, who was a year older than Alex, gone to college this year? Maybe that’s why he seemed so lonely.

Alex’s crooked grin lit up his face. “Excellent, Mom. Sit down, take a load off. Want me to get that for you?”

He could have been a young, hip butler for the attention he was giving her. And while it was nice, she had to wonder what was behind his very sweet behavior. She let him take her purse, the dinner sack and her keys and then watched in amazement while he set them on the counter. He couldn’t resist peeking into the sack.

“Sweet. Good call. I could use a cinnamon roll. I’m a growing boy, you know.”