Chapter 7
LIAM
The new sign above the old McBride Mountain Newspaper office hangs proudly in the afternoon summer sun.
Mind Your Own Beeswax
A grin pulls at my lips, just as it does every time I’ve seen it since Killian had it hung a few days ago.
Only Willow would choose a name like that for her new business, but it couldn’t be more perfect.
Because I think she’s as sick as I am of everyone giving her the pitying looks and asking about her ordeal.
It’s incessant—everyone in town buzzing around like…
bees. Waiting for a chance to sneak in and sting with a question they seem to have no idea is only going to aggravate wounds she wants to let heal.
God knows she has them.
The trauma I suffered is all mental—a massive mindfuck that crumpled the world I was so comfortable living in—but hers was so much worse. On top of the horrific psychological torture she endured, she suffered physically, too, leaving very visible scars that rival the invisible ones.
It’s taken a lot for her to claw her way back to some semblance of a normal life. Finally settling down with Killian and Niall helped—being a wife and mother—but once this place is open and operating, she’ll finally have something that’s hers.
All that joy she’s always found out in her tiny workshop on the homestead making her candles can be spread to everyone in McBride Mountain on a level I don’t think any of us would have anticipated before she disappeared almost two years ago.
And I’ll do whatever I can to help make her dream come true.
So will Killian.
The majestic carving he did of a bee that now stands right outside the front door of the shop leaves no question about how much he worships the woman inside and how desperately he will work to ensure she gets whatever she wants or needs for the rest of their lives.
Even though I’ve seen it hundreds of times, my eyes still roam over it in appreciation as I tug open shop door. I glance up, expecting bells to jingle above it that would alert my arrival like they do in almost every shop along Main Street, but apparently, the newspaper office never had one.
Which I guess makes sense since either Old Man Murray or Raven were almost always here, seated at the desks that once occupied the space, typing away at whatever articles they were working on.
And right now, Willow doesn’t need one since the windows are still covered with paper, making it clear the store isn’t open yet.
From the looks of it right now, it’s far from ready, too.
The place is kind of a disaster.
Shelves I built for Willow lean up against the walls in various places and half-unpacked boxes are strewn across the floor along with random packaging materials that appear to have been chaotically tossed to the side.
An old cash register sits on the vintage display case Killian found for her when they went on their trip down to Asheville searching for cool things for the store, and various other items lie haphazardly around the room, waiting for someone to organize them.
It definitely looks like she could use some help.
I let the door close behind me, and I move in deeper, starting to imagine what it will look like when it’s finally completed.
I’d be the first to admit I didn’t know how she could transform the newspaper office into a retail space, given I had only ever seen it used for one thing and set up in one way, but even in this state, I’m starting to see her vision.
The inherent charm of the historic building that’s stood here proudly on Main Street for over a hundred years brings a warmth to the room that’s been improved by a fresh coat of paint in a barely-there honey tone that was absolutely intentional on Willow’s part.
But where is the woman behind it?
Willow should be here, waiting for me to come hang the shelves as we arranged earlier. I start to call out for her, but if Niall is here and sleeping in the back and I wake him up, neither he nor his mother will be very happy.
Best to find her quietly.
I move through the space toward the back room that I know she was setting up as an office, my boots thudding on the worn wooden floors, but just as I reach the door, Lucky steps out, clutching several glass candle jars in her hands, and almost slams into me.
“Oh, shit!” She jerks back, her eyes widening. “Christ, you scared me!”
“I seem to be doing a lot of that lately.” I offer her an apologetic smile, retreating a step once I’m confident she isn’t going to drop any of the candles. “Sorry about that. What are you doing here?”
She chews on her bottom lip, scanning the space with an unreadable expression that almost looks like confusion. “Um…I guess I work here now.”
Works here now?
Clearly, something happened between me dropping her at her place last night and today that I have been left completely out of the loop on.
Not that I expected Lucky to call and let me know wasn’t waiting tables at the diner anymore, but Willow certainly could have offered me a heads-up before I walked in here.
I raise a brow. “You do?”
She nods, clearing her throat, almost as if she’s not completely sure it’s true or isn’t on board with the job change. “Your sister-in-law and Raven came into the diner earlier.”
That explains it.
I can already see where this is going before she even completes her story. When Willow and Raven are together and they set their minds on something, they’re like bulldozers and it’s almost impossible to get out of their way.
If they saw Lucky struggling at the diner the way she has been, both of them would have felt inclined to find a way to help her…by finding her another way to make some money.
“And let me guess, they somehow convinced you to quit the diner and come here?”
Lucky releases a little laugh. “It honestly wasn’t all that hard. I’m a shitty waitress.”
Her self-deprecation makes me wince, and I feel the need to defend her, even if she won’t defend herself.
“No, you aren’t.”
She gives me an incredulous look, that perfect mouth of hers twisting. “I appreciate the morale boost, but we all know I sucked at that job.”
“I wouldn’t say sucked.”
But I can’t fight the grin that pulls at my lips as I say the word, nor can she mask her own.
“It’s fine, Liam.” She blows a lock of blue hair off her face with a huff. “I know where my strengths lie, and it isn’t there.”
Maybe it’s here…
That makes me realize I’m still blocking her path into the store where she needs to set down the candles in her hands. I retreat a few steps, allowing her to move past me into the main sales floor and unload the jars on the top of the display counter.
“What did Elaine say?”
Another little laugh filled with disbelief slips from her lips as she arranges the various candles.
“Well, I’m not entirely sure what Willow said to her, but Elaine came out from the kitchen and gave me a hug, told me that she wished me well, and that she didn’t need me to finish my shift. She insisted I help Willow instead.”
I lean against the edge of the counter as she slips behind it and starts peeling price tags off a piece of paper and slapping them on the bottoms of the jars. “And here you are.”
She bobs her head, her loose hair falling to partially cover her face. “And here I am.”
Alone, apparently.
“Where’s Willow?”
“Oh”—she glances up—“she left about twenty minutes ago. Niall was really fussy and didn’t want to take a nap in the Pack-n-Play she has set up in the back, so I told her to just go home and I would do what I could without her here.”
“That was very kind of you.”
Her cheeks pinken beneath the smattering of freckles, and she tips her head down, continuing to work and hiding her face behind the long flow of blue that looks like the falls on a summer afternoon.
I force myself to look away from her and to examine everything in the space. “Well, I was supposed to help her get the shelves up today…”
“Oh.” Lucky peeks up from behind the veil of azure. “She told me she laid them out where she wants them. So, I kind of have some idea, if you want to do them. I don’t know how much help I’ll be, but—”
“All I really need is a second set of eyes to check the placement because I’m definitely not an interior designer and have absolutely no idea what that woman wants.”
Lucky laughs, shaking her head. “Well, I’m not either, but I’ll do my best.” She gets quiet suddenly, stilling and staring down blankly as if she’s trying to gather her words. “I really appreciate everything everyone has done for me since I got here.”
The ache in her words places one squarely in my chest. There’s a lingering disbelief there that tells me everything about the type of people she’s encountered in her life before coming here.
“I told you, that’s just McBride Mountain.”
“But people aren’t like that.” Her gaze shifts up to meet mine, and the pain in her eyes matches one I’ve felt since the day I looked into Earl’s eyes and saw my own.
“You know…out there.” She waves her hand vaguely toward the street.
“People don’t do things just because it’s the nice thing to do. They usually want something in return.”
I shake my head. “Not here.”
The only way a town like McBride Mountain survives is by people helping people. By being generous. By being selfless. By looking out for each other and knowing it will come back to you when you need it.
Her lips press into another tight smile, then she shifts away from the counter and moves over to the shelves leaned against the wall, effectively ending any additional conversation on that topic.
“Willow told me she wants one here and one here.” She motions vaguely toward the wall—one hand higher and one lower.
“The higher one more for display and storage of stock. And then over here”—she moves down a few steps—“she wants them staggered, not at exactly the same height as the other two. That’s the layout she wants repeated the whole way down.
She thinks they’ll look better that way. ”