Chapter 4
Treasure your relationships,
not your possessions.
Anthony J. D’Angelo
“It’s a bit overwhelming,” Scarlett confessed, stirring the straw in her glass of sweet tea while she and Noah waited for their lunch plates at Luca’s on the courthouse square a little after noon.
After leaving Twin Oaks, they’d met with Jinx at the hardware store. He and Noah had described ways the pumpkin patch had been set up in previous years. Every other sentence began with You could. . .
They’d pointed out hay bales, empty whiskey barrels, lattice panels, rope, string lights, and more metal buckets, tubs, and tins than Scarlett imagined finding at a rodeo arena.
They’d listed tools, determining what Noah already had in his truck, what the church had in toolboxes, and what Jinx would loan from his own collection.
More than once, Scarlett zoned out of their exuberant brainstorming.
That round of ideas had taken place at Jinx’s shop.
When Noah and Scarlett had followed Jinx to a big barn out in the middle of nowhere, a new barrage of ideas came at Scarlett faster than she could process them. The men had talked over one another in eager enthusiasm to provide possibilities. . .
The barn — filled to the rafters with wood, woodworking tools, and wooden furniture — was amazing!
Antiques, midcentury modern pieces, and items still under construction.
. .bed frames, headboards, kitchen tables, toy chests, armoires, custom cabinets, and enough chairs to fill an auditorium.
. .smooth, stained wood polished to a pristine shine right next to rough-edged rustic wood fresh from nature. Scarlett fought to take it all in.
“See anything you like?” Jinx asked.
Scarlett turned his way with an expression of baffled perplexity.
“Do I what?” she asked.
“See anything you like,” Jinx supplied with a chuckle. “Do you see anything that might work for your pumpkin patch?”
Blinking to clear the muddle of his words, Scarlett continued to stare at the man speaking Greek.
“What about this?” Noah hollered from somewhere inside the maze of beautiful furniture.
Jinx lifted an arm toward the vicinity of Noah’s voice, gesturing for Scarlett to lead the way.
With a furrowed brow, she studied his grinning face for a long second before shaking her head in confusion and walking into the maze where Noah had disappeared.
“This way,” Jinx said when they came upon a fork in the path. He signaled which way to go with a gentle hand on her back. Although strong and firm, it didn’t create the same tingle Noah’s guiding chivalry had triggered leaving the church building that morning.
Scarlett scolded herself for thinking about Jinx’s hands, Noah’s hands, anyone’s hands on her back.
She watched her step as they maneuvered past stools, benches, cribs, and bassinets.
When she reached a clearing, her head snapped up to find Noah posturing like Charlie Bucket waving his golden ticket.
Her eyes dropped from his triumphant smile to the wooden structure Noah stood beside.
Magnificent. . .perfect. It was exactly what she needed.
“That,” she declared, speaking to Jinx but looking and pointing at a very old, very unique, very awesome Murphy wagon.
“It’s missing its cover,” Jinx argued, pointing out the obvious.
“I don’t need a cover,” she said, elated that a clear vision for the pumpkin patch had formed in her mind. The open wagon, filled with floor pillows, quilts, and throws. . . What a showpiece it would make, inviting and fantastic under a canopy of twinkle lights woven through trees and pumpkins—
“It’s missing a few side boards,” Noah interjected. “Is it even sturdy enough to move?” he asked, directing his concern toward Jinx.
Scarlett’s eyes lifted to Jinx; hope filled her chest.
“This ol’ thing?” Jinx ran a hand along the toolbox still attached to the side of the wagon bed.
“Yeah, she’s sturdy.” He answered his own question with fondness in his voice.
“In its heyday, a Murphy wagon carried over two thousand pounds of weight from coast to coast, over all types of terrain, and in every weather condition imaginable. This one probably landed here in Green Hills when an immigrant family stopped for provisions and never left. I’m sure it passed hands a few times before my grandpa bought it to use at the lumberyard. ”
“Like a horse-drawn carriage?” Scarlett asked with skepticism.
“Nah,” Jinx said with another chuckle. Somehow his good-natured personality gave Scarlett the impression that he enjoyed sharing something he loved rather than making her feel stupid for asking dumb questions. Again, where Noah riled her up, Jinx’s kind and immediate friendship set her at ease.
“Oxen or mules would’ve been used to pull wagons on the trail,” Jinx continued.
“Horses weren’t strong enough and didn’t have the endurance needed to travel so far.
But my grandpa used it for display at the original hardware store.
It was in town and landlocked on Main Street, so he got creative in finding ways to stack and organize merchandise.
When he rebuilt outside of town, he must’ve brought the wagon here. ”
“That had to be at least thirty years ago,” Noah said, marveling over Jinx’s story.
“At least. He built the new building several years before we were born, but I’ve seen pictures, and it looked pretty great.”
“Knowing Duke, it was a treasure trove,” Noah said with fondness.
“Of course, you and Matty turned the new shop into quite a playground,” he added.
“Jinx and Matthias Noble were attached at the hip back then. Never saw one without the other when we were kids,” Noah explained to Scarlett before turning back to Jinx.
“Back then, I loved coming in with Dad so I could find y’all and jump into whatever project you two were working on.
. .with or without permission. Man, those are good memories.
” Noah paused, smiling at the recollections.
“How is Duke?” he asked, compassion weighing on each word.
Shadows crossed Jinx’s face, some nostalgic and others wistful. The final veil seemed sad.
“Hanging on,” Jinx said. “Thanks for asking.”
“You bet,” Noah said with a meaningful look at Jinx, setting a hand on Jinx’s shoulder. “You know we’re always here.”
Jinx swallowed and nodded but didn’t reply.
The two men spoke of people and times Scarlett knew nothing of, yet they didn’t exclude her. She envied their shared history and friendship. What did that feel like. . .to have a backstory that included roots and community?
“These toolboxes are called jockey boxes, right?” Noah asked, gesturing to where Jinx’s hand still rested.
“They are,” Jinx confirmed, unfastening the leather straps on the wooden box.
“Take a look,” he said to Scarlett, stepping back to make room for her.
“I don’t think this is the original jockey box, though.
The settlers used hard woods that wouldn’t shrink and layered on a thin coat of tar to make the wagon waterproof.
This jockey box has newer bolts and no trace of tar.
Either Grandpa sanded down the original and refinished it, or he replaced the box to look original. ”
“Wow, I’d never have guessed,” Scarlett said, impressed with the workmanship.
“Grandpa had a way with wood.” Adoration filled Jinx’s tone.
“And the apple didn’t fall far from the tree,” Noah said. He lifted an eyebrow at Jinx while elbowing him in the ribs.
Jinx waved off the compliment, but he didn’t deny it.
Instead, he latched the straps before turning to Scarlett.
“I’ll check for nails that might catch on clothing and run a light coat of linseed oil over the wagon.
Look around; see what else you can use. I’m happy to meet you at Twin Oaks later this week to deliver everything and place it where you want.
Today’s Monday. . . It might take a few days to get it ready.
How about Thursday? Will that leave you enough time to do your thing before the fall festival begins? ”
Scarlett’s head started spinning again.
She’d gotten caught up in the barn’s wonder and Jinx’s tales of old. She’d blissfully forgotten all that hung over her head.
“You’re sure you don’t mind my borrowing your treasures?”
“Positive,” Jinx answered with a genuine smile.
“Okay then. Thursday’s great,” Scarlett said with a croak.
“You sure? I can move things around and get it to you sooner if that helps,” Jinx offered.
“Nope,” she said, swallowing her nerves. “I’ve got more than enough to keep me busy between now and then,” she added with a gulp.
Scarlett remained in a half-stupor, half-panicked state as Noah drove them back into Green Hills, parked in front of the courthouse, and led her into an Italian restaurant called Luca’s on the cute, small-town square.
“They serve a set lunch,” Noah explained as they seated themselves at a table covered in a red checkered tablecloth and set with a bread basket, plates, and a bowl of roasted garlic olive oil beside salt, pepper, grated parmesan, and silverware rolled up in cloth napkins.
“But it’s always delicious,” he added, winking at her as he launched into the bread basket with vigor.
Then, a young man named Joshua took their drink orders and returned with their two iced teas in record time.
“What’s overwhelming?” Noah asked around a bite of bread drenched — not merely dipped — in oil.
Scarlett stopped stirring her drink to eye him with a smirk.
“Let’s see. . .” Scarlett mocked. “Maybe a little event tossed in my lap that the whole town expects to look like a Disney World attraction in less than a week?”
“Oh, just that?” he scoffed. “I thought you might be referring to the fact that you just took a new job, in a new town, full of people you’ve never met, where you’ll be living in a house you’ve yet to see.”
Scarlett’s smirk turned into daggers.