The Husband She Can't Forget

“Nah. This is easy enough.” Even as he said it, his front wheel wobbled and his thin legs shook with the effort of climbing a small rise.

“Riding in my air-conditioned truck would make it a whole lot easier. And I’ve got some water.”

Luke viewed his own persistence sardonically. He knew exactly why he was doing this. His failure with Carly was pushing him to do at least one thing right today. This reluctant boy happened to be in the path of his good intentions.

The boy paused and then stopped, licking his dry lips. The mention of water had caught his attention, but he narrowed his big, brown eyes. “You won’t try anything funny, will ya?”

Luke swallowed a laugh while appearing to take the boy’s question seriously. “No, I promise. I’ll even let you hold my cell phone the whole way into town in case you want to call the sheriff for help.”

“I ain’t calling the sheriff.” He considered the offer for a few more seconds. He studied the pickup and then Luke’s face. “Okay, then.” The words seemed to be dragged out of him. “Just to the middle of town.” He nodded toward the full boxes. “I’ve got some stuff to sell.”

“Do you think you’ll need a license?” Luke asked, half-jokingly.

The boy smirked. “I’m a kid. Who’s gonna hassle a kid for selling stuff?”

Obviously this was a street-smart boy, Luke thought as he set his hazard lights to flashing and got out to help load the bike and boxes into the back of his truck.

It took a couple of minutes to unfasten the boxes, which had been attached to the frame with a clever arrangement of boards and rusted wire. Luke couldn’t even see exactly what the boy planned to sell because the boxes were so full of leaves.

When they finished, Luke opened the truck door and held it while the boy climbed inside. “My name’s Luke Sanderson. What’s yours?”

The kid treated him to another suspicious look as he fastened his seat belt. “Dustin.”

Luke slammed the door and walked around the front to climb behind the wheel once again. As promised, he handed over his cell phone, which made the boy blink in surprise, but he took it.

Luke reached behind the front seat to grab a bottle of water, which he handed to Dustin. This time, there was no argument as he twisted off the cap and gulped the cool drink.

“Thanks, mister,” he mumbled.

“Do you live around here?” Luke asked.

“Yeah.”

Luke gave the boy a curious glance. “Have you got a last name?”

“Dustin’s enough,” he said.

Luke took the hint and didn’t ask any more questions, but he couldn’t help speculating. He couldn’t tell his age—anywhere between ten and thirteen—but he seemed small for whatever age he was. Other than being unkempt, Dustin appeared to be healthy enough—if somewhat underfed.

They finished the ride into Reston in silence and Luke dropped the boy off in front of one of the supermarkets, along with his bike and boxes. Dustin returned the cell phone, gave a wave of thanks and wheeled his bike around back. Luke continued on his way, his thoughts equally divided between Carly and the ragged boy he’d just met.

Say what she would, Carly had to understand that people needed jobs in this area, families deserved more and better resources than what were currently available. He had no idea what Dustin’s story was since the boy hadn’t been much of a talker, but it was obvious he had needs that weren’t being met. Luke decided he would tell Frances about the boy. If anyone could help, it was his aunt.

* * *

“I DON’T SEE that you have any alternative, Carly.” Lisa looked up from the deed they’d found on file at the county courthouse.

Carly had called her parents, who had confirmed that Robert Sanderson had retained the mineral rights. They had apologized for not telling her sooner, but, at the time, they were so thrilled at the bargain they were getting, they’d never thought mineral rights would be an issue.

Now Carly and Lisa sat side by side at an ancient, polished table in the conference room of the hundred-year-old red-rock building, reading every word of the deed while dust motes swirled in the sunlight streaming through the window.

“You mean I have to let them go ahead with this project—whatever it is?”

Lisa lifted one perfectly sculpted eyebrow at her. “If you hadn’t blown up at Luke, you would probably know what this project entails.”

“Maybe.”

“Certainly.”

Carly flopped back against her chair. “Lisa, he didn’t even seem to know. It appears that he’s backing a scientist. I’m guessing he’s a petroleum engineer, who’s got an untried, untested process in the works.”

“He must know something about it, Carly, or he wouldn’t be putting money into it.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Troubled, Carly put her elbow on the armrest and propped up her head with her palm while she considered everything she’d learned from Luke, which wasn’t much. “He believes in this Dr. Wayne, which means this scientist has done something in the past worth believing in. But I don’t think Luke would blindly hand out money without some kind of guarantee of a return on his investment.”

“That’s probably true,” Lisa answered, thinking it over. “He is Robert’s son, after all.”

“Don’t remind me. Or yourself.”

Lisa went back to examining the deed and Carly sighed. Lisa was right. She’d been in the real estate business for ten years, working hard to establish her reputation and secure the type of financial security she hadn’t known when they were growing up. She had a head for figures, was smart with money and was bone-deep honest. Any advice Lisa gave would be carefully considered—even if it wasn’t what Carly wanted to hear.

“But I can file a lawsuit or get an injunction or something, right?”

“It wouldn’t hurt to talk to an attorney, but filing lawsuits and injunctions costs money, which you should probably save for an emergency.”

Distressed and exhausted from the roller coaster of emotions she’d been through that day, Carly dropped her forehead into her hand. “In case my garden is ruined and I have to live in my truck—or the back of my Upcycle shop.”

“On which you haven’t even signed a lease yet,” Lisa pointed out, returning the deed to its folder.

“But what if...?”

Lisa placed her hands on top of the folder and tapped her fingers. “Enough with the ifs, Carly. As hard as you work, there’s no possibility that the shop will fail, and its success will be another income stream for you, better than the one you’ve got now with your helter-skelter approach to selling the pieces you’ve renovated.”

“Helter-skelter?”

“You know it’s true. That’s why you’ve got a barnful—”

“Not a barn,” Carly interrupted. “More of a large shed.”

Lisa ignored the interruption. “Of refurbished pieces sitting and gathering dust. Hoarding them won’t bring you any money.”

“I’m not hoarding.”

Lisa gave her a level stare. “Carly, remember my grandparents? The house I grew up in? They didn’t start out as hoarders but they ended up that way because they couldn’t part with anything. Why keep all the pieces you’ve redone when you could sell them and earn money?”

“Which I’ll need.”

“My point exactly.” Lisa returned the folder to the clerk then said, “It doesn’t do you any good to borrow trouble. Whatever Luke is planning is going to happen whether you get hysterical about it or not, but it’ll be a lot easier on you if you calm down and focus on the things you can control—like your two businesses.”