Page 8 of V is for Valentine
Pete leaned his head back and closed his eyes as if in pain. “I’m sorry to hear that. Mrs. Meyers?”
“No. A new teacher. I can’t remember her name.”
Pete blew out a low breath. “This project has been a series of disasters. I don’t blame the guys I hired for taking long-term jobs in Boise, but Zach leaving like he did…”
Felicity patted her dad’s arm. “Zach has always been a me-first kind of guy. You were nice to give him a job.”
“I want to get to a place where I have someone dependable working for me.”
“Me, too, Dad.”
“You got Danny. He’s dependable…if you don’t tick him off and make him quit.”
“Trust me. That’s the last thing I’ll do. By the way, can you think of a reason he might need a contractor? He spoke of hiring Zach after your job.” Which didn’t mesh with the theory of him needing a job. As always, so many questions where Danny was concerned.
Pete shrugged. “Well, he’s not remodeling.”
“Are you sure?”
“I think I’d know. He’s my neighbor.”
“No. His parents are your neighbors.”
“His parents are doing the snowbird thing. They’ll be back in April. Danny sold his house and is watching their place until they come back.” He smiled up at her as if he’d just been struck by a brilliant idea. “You guys can drive to work together.”
“Great,” Felicity said, deciding not to ask any more questions about her new construction partner, even though she was itching to ask if her dad knew who the beautiful redhead was she’d seen on the doorstep this morning. “Looking forward to it.”
“He’s saving our bacon, and I’m not sure how we’ll make this up to him.”
“He said you did the same for him. Why didn’t I know?”
“Well, you were busy conquering the world.”
“You thought I’d make noise about it?”
“Maybe a little.” Pete smiled faintly. “Just…go easy on him while you’re working, okay?”
“Like you said, he’s saving the day. I’m not going to mess with him.”
Hopefully, those were not famous last words.
*
The lights wereoff inside the old high school when Danny arrived at six thirty a.m., the agreed upon starting time. When he tried the brass handle of the antique oak double doors, it remained stubbornly in place. Felicity’s car had been gone when he left home, so he’d expected to find her here.
Wherever she was, he hoped she got here soon.
He shoved his hands into his pockets, then turned his back as the wind bit into his face. A nice frigid Idaho morning and here he was, literally cooling his heels. He was debating about retreating to his car when the purr of the Audi brought his head up. Felicity swung the sleek little car in next to his. She turned off the engine and got out of the car, then reached back inside and pulled out a small box.
A flight of twelve concrete steps led to the top landing where he stood hugging the building to stay out of the wind, and she yawned twice on the way up.
“Late night?” he asked, as she pulled a set of keys out of her pocket and singled out one before silently handing them to him.
“Not a morning person,” she murmured. “You’ve been officially warned.”
“I appreciate that.” He fit the key into the lock which turned smoothly. The door and the handle were antique, but the lock was new.
He opened the door and stood back so that Felicity could precede him into the building. She rolled her shoulders, then turned toward him and handed him the box.
