“Oh no,” Madeline said with a laugh. She knew chaos, and she had never known there to be any joy in it. Madeline had only to think back on her life, at the many times her mother’s lack of organization had left them living in a car—
“What about yesterday?” He winked at her and started toward the bunkhouse.
Madeline blushed deeply at the reminder. “I’m just trying to avoid a big chaotic disaster here!” she called after him, and heard him laugh.
“You can’t control everything, you know. Up here it’s okay to go with the flow. The mountains have their own energy. You’ll see what I mean. But for right now, Blue Eyes, we need to organize some showers.”
He had a point. Madeline followed him down to the bunkhouse. There were three men there, two of them digging a trough. Madeline cringed a little at the sight of the man with long damp hair.
Luke surprised her, speaking to the men in Spanish. The four of them began to work, building a platform from slatted wood. Luke made Madeline help, standing behind her, showing her how to hold the hammer and set a nail when the four men hoisted a sheet of plywood.
It was hard work, she quickly realized, but exhilarating. They managed to erect the back of what would become three temporary showers. But when her arm began to burn with the exertion, and the hammer grew heavier, Luke took it from her. “You’re fired,” he teased her, and made quick work of the two nails she’d been assigned to hammer. “We’ll finish up here.”
She wouldn’t argue and stepped back. “I’ll go… organize something else,” she said.
“Still need the ride tomorrow?” Luke asked as she began to back away.
“Still offering?”
“Of course. I could use a passenger who carries a map and a highlighter. I’ll pick you up at the airport rental at five?”
Madeline could feel that ridiculously broad smile appear on her face again. “See you then,” she said, and turned around, striding away before she turned to goo.
She looked back only once. Luke was still watching her. She smiled and turned around again.
Yep, she was right. That man looked awfully good in a pair of jeans. Madeline walked back to the house, feeling the pull of the mountains—or something—through her. She felt good. Airy. As if wind chimes were tinkling deep inside her.
Libby walked out onto the porch with a basket of laundry as Madeline stepped into the yard. She wasn’t even perturbed with Libby anymore. “Need some help?” she offered.
“Hanging laundry?” Libby asked.
“I happen to be an expert laundry hanger,” Madeline said.
“Okay,” Libby said. “Come on.”
Madeline followed Libby into the trees and a clearing she had not seen until now. There was a deck here, a couple of old Adirondack chairs among pots that had obviously been full at one point, judging by the dead leaves and stems. And a table made from the stump of an old tree. A pair of mushrooms was growing from a crack in the middle of it. A frayed hammock swung between two trees, next to the clothesline.
“This is pretty,” Madeline said.
“I think it was Mrs. Kendrick’s garden,” Libby said, and planted the basket at her feet. She picked three clothespins from the line and pulled a floral chiffon blouse from the basket.
“That’s lovely,” Madeline said, and picked up a towel.
“Thanks. I bought it for a wedding.”
“Whose?” Madeline asked idly as she pinned the towel.
Libby gave her a funny look. “Dad’s,” she said after a moment. “His last one. What was it, five? Six? I lost count.”
“Wow,” Madeline said.
“Yeah… I guess he got around.”
Madeline wondered how Grant managed to attract so many women. Was he handsome? Sophisticated? She surprised herself by asking, “What sort of dad was he?”
“He was okay,” Libby said, and shrugged. “He was decent to me.”
Decent was an odd way to describe a father.
“You really don’t know anything about him?” Libby asked as she picked up a sheet. “I mean, surely your mom must have said something about him, right?”
Madeline snorted. “My mom hardly remembers him. I don’t think they were together very long. What about your mom?”
“They were together a few years after he split up from Emma’s mom. I don’t know this for a fact, but I think maybe something was going on between them before he ever left Emma’s mom. My mom calls him her brain drain.” She laughed at that.
So did Madeline. “Did he do things with you? I mean, like father-daughter dances, or softball, something like that?”