Be Careful, It's My Heart Page 8

  “How are things going with Brody?” asked Piper.

  Tyler wasn’t fooled by the über casual tone of her voice. “They’re…going.” She’d promised Brody she’d think about what was between them. In truth, she’d thought of little else. Things had been so good the last week—familiar, comfortable in their common purpose. It would be easy, so very easy, to let herself fall back into love, back into a relationship with him. But a part of her was still waiting for him to leave, counting down the days to the end of the year when the hotel job was finished. It was the elephant in the room they continued to stubbornly avoid, all as part of their efforts to pretend they had time to ease back into things—just like Tyler had requested.

  Unfortunately, that elephant was getting harder and harder for her to ignore.

  Piper was prevented from prying further by the arrival of Brody himself. “Sorry I’m late,” he said. “I had to juggle some stuff to get free, and then Gerald called wanting an update. Any news?”

  “None yet. The engineers turned in their reports. Norah’s in with the mayor.” Tyler paced another lap.

  “You’re gonna wear a hole in that floor,” said Brody, stepping into her path and rubbing his hands up and down the length of her arms.

  “I can’t settle,” she said.

  “It’ll be okay. C’mon. Sit down.”

  Tyler didn’t want to sit and certainly didn’t think it would be okay. But she let him draw her to the table. Before her butt even hit the seat of a chair, the shop bell jangled as Norah strode in. Tyler shot to her feet. “Well?” she demanded.

  “It’s bad,” said Norah. “Like, closed unless repairs can be made kind of bad. I’m afraid we’re done, y’all.”

  The news was met with a chorus of groans and expletives as everyone began to talk over each other.

  Tyler’s shoulders slumped under the weight of disappointment. She hadn’t realized how much the Madrigal meant to her until faced with the prospect of losing it. And now…now it was over. It felt like an ending of far more than the show. It was the end of an era. A closed chapter in Wishful’s history and her own. She’d never again get the chance to perform on that stage.

  Brody slipped an arm around her. Grief twisted through her, a knife in her chest. With the Madrigal gone, she’d never get the chance to perform with him again. Never fall in love through someone else’s story. Leaning into his embrace, Tyler knew the heartache was as much about Brody as the theater. The demise of the place that had given them hope of starting over felt like an ominous sign for their future.

  “Do you have the report from the structural engineer?” Brody asked.

  Norah dug a folder out of her purse and offered it to him. With a quick squeeze, he let Tyler go and reached for it.

  “I don’t know what we could possibly do,” said Tucker. “It’s five weeks ’til the show. I hate to be a downer, but that’s not much time for anything.”

  “We could try to find another venue,” Piper suggested.

  “Where?” asked Tyler. “None of the churches have space enough for a set of that size. Maybe the high school gym, but it’s not a stage. I don’t know how any of the set changes would work, and there’s no structure for the backdrops or lighting.”

  “What about the community center?” offered Norah.

  “Same deal as the school gym,” said Tyler.

  “The fact is, this whole campaign was to save the theater from financial ruin,” Tucker pointed out. “If there are structural problems on top of everything else, that kind of money’s so far above and beyond what we could pull off.” He shook his head.

  “I can fix it,” said Brody.

  Conversation ground to a halt. All attention shifted to him.

  Tyler stared at him. “What?”

  “I think this can be salvaged,” he said, looking up from the report in his hands.

  “Bro, we need way more than ‘salvaged’,” said Tucker.

  But Tyler’s heart was already thumping with a spurt of hope.

  “No, listen,” Brody insisted. “I know it looks bad, but the main building is structurally intact. It’s the integrity of the balcony that’s in question. If we clear out the debris, shore up the supports of the sections remaining so that they pass code, then we could still pull off the show.”

  “Yeah, us and what army?” asked Piper.

  “In case you’ve forgotten, I am a licensed contractor.”

  “That’s great, but you’re one guy,” Piper argued. “Even with volunteers, we don’t have enough trained labor to pull off something like this.”

  Brody laid the folder on the table and crossed his arms. Tyler immediately recognized the stubborn jut to his chin. “I have an entire crew. We’re way ahead on the downtown job, to the point that we’re actually waiting on some deliveries before we can keep moving forward. I can pull them, put them over at the theater.”

  “There’s still the matter of the money, boy-o,” said Tucker. “We can’t pay them.”

  “A bunch of them would volunteer, and we can pull in others from the community.”

  “I know several who would help,” Tyler added, warming to the idea, her mind already spinning, filling with names.

  “Even with labor, I doubt the three grand we made from karaoke night is going to cover even the materials for repairs of this magnitude.”

  “Hello,” Tyler waved. “I own a building supply store. I’ll donate what I can, and we can put the karaoke funds toward any specialized materials we need.”

  “And whatever that doesn’t cover, I will,” said Brody.

  Everyone gaped at him.

  “I…Brody, that’s potentially no small chunk of change,” breathed Tyler.

  He jerked one shoulder in a shrug, his eyes fixed on hers. “I’ve done very well for myself. And it’s worth every penny to me for the chance to preserve a piece of our history.”

  Our history. Not the town’s. There could be no mistaking that with the look in his eyes. He meant to save the place where they’d fallen in love. This was important to him. She was important to him.

  Tyler felt her heart do a slow roll in her chest.

  Swallowing against the words that clogged her throat, she reached up to cup his face. Stubble rasped against her fingers as she leaned in and laid her lips softly over his.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “For what?”

  “For trying.”

  His lips curved into a grin. “If I get that for trying, what do I get for pulling it off?”

  Tyler laughed. “Do it and find out.” She started to pull back, but he caught her around the waist.

  “I think you’ll find that I’m very serious and very committed to restoration.”

  Slowly, she nodded. “I think you are.”

  At the sound of a sigh, Tyler eased back. Norah clutched a hand over her heart, wearing the same sappy smile Tyler had reason to know she wore at the end of all good chick flicks. Tucker was smirking, and Piper watched them with an expression she couldn’t read.

  I’ve really got to stop doing this stuff with an audience.

  She cleared her throat. “So. We have a plan for labor and materials. We’ll need to get in and do a more thorough evaluation of the specifics of what will be needed on both fronts. I’ll start getting in touch with people to ask about volunteer labor.”

  “What about the permits?” asked Piper. “Aren’t those required for this kind of work?”

  “I can push those through,” said Norah.

  “This whole plan presupposes that the Stantons will even let us do this,” said Tucker. “You can’t exactly do construction on a building you don’t own without permission.”

  Tyler bristled. “What is wrong with you? When did you turn into a pessimist about this project?”

  “About the time the balcony came crashing down. I’m not saying we shouldn’t try. Just trying to point out the road-blocks before we get into things and waste time, money, and effort on something that ca
n’t be followed through.”

  Brody tugged Tyler closer, until her back pressed against his chest. “No, he’s right to bring it up. We have to manage all the details if we’re going to pull this off.”

  Norah grinned, in her element. “Have faith and leave them to me.”

  ~*~

  It always looks worse before it looks better, Brody reminded himself. And it did look bad right now.

  The debris had been fully cleared away. The remaining segments of the balcony were jacked up and rigged with temporary supports. The seats they were able to salvage had been detatched and relocated for cleaning, along with several sections that had to be removed for equipment access. A hole gaped in the center, reminding him of a fighter down his two front teeth. Which wasn’t a bad analogy, actually, as this whole thing felt like a sucker punch. Much like finding out how things had gone so horribly wrong with Tyler all those years ago.

  “We’ll fix you up, old girl,” murmured Brody. “And maybe it’ll be enough to change her mind.” He didn’t know how to fix things with Tyler, or how things would work out between them in the end. But making the repairs on the theater was solidly in his wheelhouse, so, for now, the focus had to be on the job. He couldn’t let himself think beyond that.

  The emergency exit opened on a shriek of hinges. Roy Simmons, one of the carpenters from the Babylon job, poked his head in. “Supply truck is here.”

  Shaking himself out of his musings, Brody waved in acknowledgment. Time to get this show on the road.

  He headed to the front of the building. The carpeted lobby was covered in drop cloths, and a handful of men were setting up work stations near the available electrical outlets. Outside, beyond the dumpster that had been hauled in for demolition, a large flatbed truck with the Edison Hardware logo emblazoned on the door, was parked at the curb. Tyler slid out of the driver’s seat as he emerged. Her hair was drawn back into a pony tail, pulled through the back of a maroon MSU baseball cap. In work-worn jeans with frayed hems and a black track jacket to ward off the chill of early morning, she looked mouthwatering.

  “You’re amazingly bright-eyed considering the hour,” Brody said, crossing to her.

  She ducked back into the cab and came out with a pair of extra tall to-go cups. “I’ve already been by the Grind.”

  He took the one she offered him and sipped. His eyebrows shot up at the first, rich punch of sweetened coffee. “Jesus, no wonder you’re awake. What is this, a triple-shot espresso?”

  “They’re calling it the Zombie Killer these days. Hey, it worked for finals week in college. It’ll work for this. There are donuts in the truck for everybody. How many folks did we end up with today?”

  “Ten signed up for this shift, besides me. Mitch is leading up the second crew that’s coming on for the night shift. Not sure of the final count for them, but similar numbers.” They’d have more when it came to reassembling the final touches, but for now, it was all skilled labor, divided into two crews on a schedule that would rival those on the set of any HGTV crash renovation.

  “Then I’ll make an even dozen,” she said.

  “You don’t have to work?”

  “Dad’s covering the store the rest of this week so I can help out.”

  Brody rearranged details and work crews in his mind to accommodate the extra hands. They’d need every pair they could get. “Been a long time since we swung hammers together.” It had been a long time since he’d picked up a hammer at all. He was too used to overseeing, managing jobs from the top down. This was his first opportunity to really run a crew in several years, and he found himself itching to get started.

  “I’m still in practice,” Tyler assured him, reaching back into the truck and drawing out a tool belt. She set the coffee down and snapped it on.

  Brody took another swig of coffee to wet his suddenly dry mouth. “You look entirely too good in that thing.” The whole picture was that much hotter knowing she was more than capable with all the tools attached to it.

  Tyler just smiled. “Let’s get this stuff unloaded. Where do you want it?”

  By the time the materials were unloaded, the remainder of the crew had arrived. Gathering around the blueprints he’d drawn up and printed last night, the team listened as Brody laid out the plan of attack. It felt good to have his hands back in design, to figure out what could be salvaged and how the details could be tied back to the original concept. The end result wouldn’t be seamless—not on the schedule they were running—but it would be functional and, more to the point, safe. That would buy them time to save the theater by their original plan. And then…well, they’d see what happened.

  “Okay, so everybody’s got their work assignments. Any questions?” A hand shot up in the back. “Yes, Paul?”

  “You sure you still remember how to do this? I can’t remember the last time you picked up anything heavier than a pencil.” Paul’s mouth twitched. They’d worked together on jobs from coast to coast over the last five years, with Paul preferring to keep his hands directly on the pulse of the projects, even as Brody climbed the management ladder.

  Brody cupped his ear. “Methinks I hear a challenge.”

  “Calling it like I see it, Jensen.”

  “Before either of you hauls off to prove your manhood,” Tyler interjected. “I feel compelled to point out that you aren’t lumberjacks and you won’t be chopping down trees.”

  Paul made a sound of mock disappointment. “And what will you be doing, little lady? Making sandwiches? I notice Brody didn’t include you in the work assignments.”

  Brody braced himself, waiting for Tyler to pop off, as she’d been wont to do back in the day when those on a job insulted her abilities.

  She cut her eyes toward him, and he caught the glint of amusement as her lips curved into a sweet smile. “I’ll be making that router table and table saw sing sweet, sweet hymns to match the vintage, custom moulding.”

  Paul blinked. A few of the local men, who knew Tyler, chuckled.

  Brody crossed his arms. “Tyler’s fifth generation of a lumber family and the owner of our biggest supplier. There’s nothing she can’t do with wood.” Someone choked on a laugh. If any of them thought of offering up some rejoinder to that vaguely suggestive statement, they wisely kept their mouths shut. “Now, if that’s all, we’ve got a lot of work to do. Hop to it.”

  He helped Tyler haul in the remainder of her tools from the truck before diving in to his own assignment. It was easy to lose himself in the symphony of power tools, the dance of teamwork. They demoed the remainder of the ceiling beneath the balcony to expose the joists and struts. Most were blessedly intact. Plans were adjusted slightly to accommodate additional replacement, then they began tying in new joists to the existing supports, framing out the rest of the balcony. It was heavy, brutal work, and Brody loved every minute of it. He’d forgotten exactly how much he loved the physicality of turning blueprints into reality with his own two hands.

  He moved in and out of the lobby over the course of the day. Each time he caught a glimpse of Tyler, she was bent over her machines, face fierce with concentration. The pile of moulding continued to grow at a steady pace. He didn’t interrupt, not wanting to disrupt her progress, but the sight of her caused a pleasant little kick in his chest.

  “Bet you’re gonna miss that on the next job,” said Paul, ambling up and offering a bottle of water.

  Brody took it and pretended not to understand him. “Miss what?”

  Paul just arched an eyebrow and looked back toward Tyler. She shoved her safety goggles into her hair and stared critically at the match up between two pieces of moulding. “Very easy on the eyes,” he pronounced in his thick Brooklyn accent. “Damned talented, too. I’d even let her get her hands on my…tools.”

  “Watch it,” Brody growled.

  Paul just laughed. “What’s the deal with you two? You a thing?”

  Resigned that he couldn’t avoid this conversation, Brody said, “We used to be.”

&nbs
p; As if sensing their eyes on her, Tyler turned. Catching his gaze, she smiled, really smiled, with the kind of unrestrained pleasure of their youth. The sight of it lit him up inside.

  “Used to?” muttered Paul.

  “It’s complicated,” said Brody.

  “Jensen, I get you’re a detail man. You think of all the angles, all the ramifications, all the possible outcomes. That makes you damn good at the job. But if you’re thinking about all that with her, then you’re over-complicating shit.”

  “She’s too important not to think about all that.”

  “Even more reason to keep it basic. You dig her. She digs you. Work with that.”

  Brody kept that in the back of his mind through the rest of the work day. And when they wrapped, the full framework of new joists and struts installed, he headed to where Tyler was packing up her gear.

  “Looks good,” he said, picking up one of the pieces of moulding.

  “It all needs proper sanding yet. I got the sanding blocks made, but it’ll be tomorrow before I can finish that part.” She tossed a tape measure into her tool box and rolled her shoulders.

  “It’s good work. A lot of work. And I say that means I owe you beer and a burger.” That’s basic enough, he thought.

  Just a few weeks ago, she’d have hesitated, looking for some excuse or wrestling with what it might mean. Instead, she cocked her head and studied him, another of those smiles curving her mouth. “You taking anybody else out for beer and a burger?”

  “Nope. Figured it’d be just me and my girl.” He waited to see what her reaction to the possessive would be.

  Her smile widened. “Good. I’d hate to have any third wheels on our date.”

  Progress, Brody thought, is a beautiful thing.

  4 Weeks 'Til Show

  Zeke Hammel was a thorough man. As the structural engineer charged with determining whether the theater was safe for public use, he needed to be. But Tyler fairly vibrated with impatience as he walked through to make his inspection. His very detailed, pain-staking inspection. She couldn’t get a read on this guy. His weather-worn face made him look more like a stoic cowboy than an engineer. As he studied the new railing, Tyler half expected him to murmur, “Yup,” and pop a plug of chewing tobacco into his mouth. She hung back a bit as Brody answered the questions, knowing she really had no place here but unable to stay away.