Chapter Nine
NOAH HAD ARRIVED at the Service town hall expecting to take charge.
Instead, he’d found out he needed to follow the one person he should never chase again.
But today, Rachel had sucked him under her spell.
Watching her captivate the room had struck Noah hard and fast, lightning in a bottle.
Being too close to Rachel had stirred his latent needs and delayed responses.
Having her so close the night before had been a misstep.
Having her to himself drove his desire to occupy more of her time, just the two of them.
Crazy, he knew. But his attraction to Rachel had always kept him off balance.
All these years later, he still wanted to impress the girl.
He tightened his grip on the steering wheel of his truck, watching the side mirror as Benji shimmied himself into the truck cab like it was a Las Vegas party bus.
Though the other man had stopped short of their shoulders touching, it felt awkward having another body, any body, separating him from Rachel.
As if his jock block was totally natural, Benji offered a serene smile, one hand gripping the leather strap dissecting his chest.
“If you have confetti in your crossbody bag, save it for the end of the tour,” Noah muttered to no one in particular.
“Relax,” Rachel said from the far passenger seat, flipping open her tablet with the kind of serene efficiency that made Noah want to drive straight into a mailbox. “Benji’s coordinated enough when it counts. And my dad and Bethany are riding with us.”
Of course they were. With Benji seated between them on the front bench seat and her folks behind, she’d created another wall.
What Noah imagined as a private tour around town to point out the proposed redevelopment zones had somehow morphed into a full-blown field trip, with him playing the chauffeur and guide.
As Matt and Bethany climbed aboard, Noah felt tension fill the cab like a slow gas leak.
And it irritated him. Neither he nor Rachel was pleased with the situation, which gave him a modicum of joy.
If he had to be on the freeway of awkward entanglements, albeit for the town he loved, then Rachel should have to share in the combustible experience.
“How did this become a group thing again?” he asked, only halfway pretending to sound casual.
Rachel didn’t look up. “Benji and I will work together on the designs. Bethany’s the visionary. My dad will provide the historical perspective.”
“And to make sure my daughter makes it home without a second wrist bandaged,” Matt groused, helping Bethany with her seat belt.
Noah resisted the urge to bang his head against the wheel.
Exiting the parking lot, he turned left.
Main Street bloomed like a postcard come to life, dressed in its springtime finest. Azalea bushes lined the walkways in vibrant bursts of fuchsia and white, their sweet scent mingling with the earthy aroma of fresh-turned soil from the newly planted flower boxes.
The afternoon crowd moved at a languid pace, neighbors stopping to chat beneath the bell awnings that shaded nearly every storefront window.
“Slow down,” Rachel instructed, not bothering to look up from her tablet. “I need to document the facade conditions.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Noah drawled, exaggerating his accent. “Anythin’ else you’d like? Perhaps I could pull over and polish your shoes while you work?”
Her lips twitched, but she kept her eyes fixed on her screen. “Your sarcasm is noted and thoroughly unappreciated.”
“Liar,” Noah grinned, loving the way her brows rose and fell with her excitement. “You’ve always appreciated my sparkling personality.”
From the middle seat, Benji chimed in. “I like it, if she doesn’t.”
“Thank you, Benji. I knew there was a reason not to put you in a headlock when we met.”
“Ah, okay. Maybe, it’s my personality we should be praising, then.”
Noah caught Rachel’s suppressed smile in his peripheral vision.
She was having fun, and he was included.
Benji snapped photos. Several passersby waved at Noah and blew kisses at Rachel.
She returned both gestures with enthusiasm.
No longer the shy tomboy who trailed close to the wall, watching him work the other kids for whatever they needed for their latest project—more nails, a new hammer, lumber for the mill.
Back then, neither of their families had much money for kids to play with.
So, if the farmer’s daughter wanted it, Noah used his charm to make it happen. Seems the tables had reversed.
Noah watched the exchange, mesmerized by how easily Rachel slipped between worlds—sophisticated professional one moment, hometown girl the next. Even in her tailored blazer and sleek pants, she communicated with a small-town familiarity of the life she’d abandoned.
“She’s good,” Matt murmured from the back seat, leaning close to Noah’s ear.
“Always was,” Noah replied before he could stop himself.
Noah caught Bethany’s knowing grin in his rearview mirror just as she whispered, “I think he’s talking about something other than her architectural skills, Matt.”
Before Noah could deny the obvious, Rachel looked over her shoulder at her dad. “The empty space next to the barber’s. What was there before?”
“Olsen Pharmacy when we were kids,” Noah cut in, needing to focus on something other than Bethany’s assessment of his interest in Rachel then and now.
“Then a thrift shop after you left for college. The building has sat empty since 2022.” Noah leaned over the steering wheel to find Rachel’s gaze locked on his mouth.
Just like that, he was caught in her gravitational pull.
Clearing his throat, he continued. “Load-bearing wall runs there,” he pointed to a spot in the center.
“But if you removed that nonstructural partition, you’d have double the floor space. ”
Rachel looked impressed. “How do you know that?”
“Tobias and I helped our dad upgrade the pharmacy shelving when I was nineteen. Got my first lesson in what happens when you fail to wear your eye protection right over there.” He pointed to a scar above his left eyebrow. “I about cried. Tobias hovered like a papa bear with an injured cub.”
“Why on earth would he be the one panicking?” Benji interjected.
“My brother, Tobias, had left his pilfered medical supplies at home.”
“Oh,” Benji frowned. “Sounds dangerous.”
“It wasn’t,” Noah grinned. “Even as a kid, T was a borderline hypochondriac. Not for himself… for other people’s problems. Our dad gave him an old medical bag from the vet clinic for gauze, bandages, and alcohol pads. Seemed to ease his mind being able to jump into action when needed.”
“He’s not the only Calvary brother with a superhero cape,” Rachel challenged. “I remember the pictures. There weren’t any tears when I read your Instagram post. Your fan club emoji’d their praises. A working man, injured on a construction site.”
“Fine, I was stoic and manly, even as a teenager.”
“That’s not how I remember it.” A ghost of a smile played on her lips. “You looked disappointed in yourself.”
He had been. His carelessness could’ve cost his family the extra money and landed them with an unexpected hospital bill.
Their eyes met, and for a fraction of a second, the years fell away.
They weren’t the committee chairman and the outsider; they were just Noah and Rachel, who’d once shared fresh peach pie at the Black Bear counter and dreams under a West Virginia sky.
As they turned past the old textile mill, Rachel yelled, “Stop here.”
She pointed at the two-story towering structure with the busted windows, the neglected cotton shed with its sagging roof, and the twin weaving warehouses with their weathered but sturdy red brick facades and large display windows clouded with years of dust and neglect.
“This has potential for adaptive reuse.”
“Fancy words for ‘old building, new purpose,’” Noah translated, “but it’s marked for demolition in the plans.”
Rachel shot him a look. “Careful, your intelligence is showing. You’ll ruin your reputation.”
“I keep my smarts hidden, like emergency cash. Only use ’em when needed.”
Rachel’s eyes sparkled with mischief, a flash of the girl who’d once challenged him to climb Landing Waterfall with her at midnight. “I thought your entire strategy was ‘charge in, fight your way through, and if that didn’t work, charm your way out of trouble.’”
“It’s served me pretty well so far,” he countered.
“Then why am I here?” She winked.
Ouch, that hurt.
“Dad, what do you know about the mill and its owner?”
“Well, that resort developer over in Whynot expressed her interest in the place because of its location to the water,” Matt said, rubbing his chin.
“There’s a lot of history in those old bricks.
Folks forget West Virginia’s role in shaping America’s textile industry.
In the late 1800s, wool, men’s hosiery, and silk made right here contributed to a thriving local and state economy.
Bethany turned to look at the mill. “I had no idea, Matt.”
“Yep.” He nodded, and Noah tried to see the ruins through Rachel’s skilled eyes. “In World War One, mills like this one produced cassimere fabric. Elizabeth Bradley’s operation supplied uniforms that kept our troops warm and dry.”
“Elizabeth?” Noah questioned. “A woman-owned business back then. Impressive.”
Rachel typed something into her iPad. “Sounds like we have more than one reason to rescue the mill from Petey’s demolition list and the developer. Can you find out if the county owns the land, Noah?”
“Consider it done. Old Man Wanakee purchased the twenty acres beside the mill at auction a few years back. A phone call to the clerk’s office should tell us what you need.”