Chapter Six
An unexpected surge of excitement shot through Eloise as Quinn pulled up to the restaurant. For every inch of her that prayed this move was the right thing for herself and her brother, there was another inch terrified this would be the biggest mistake of her life. After less than twenty-four hours in West Texas, her fears had completely disappeared and enthusiasm for what was to come continued to build.
Standing on the front porch, Quinn reached for Eloise’s arm. “Listen.”
It took everything in her not to jump at his touch. “Yes?”
“Ryan, Morgan, and the crew are already hard at work in the dining room.” Quinn nodded toward the rhythmic sound of hammering. “If you want to take a look at the apartment space, now would be a good time.”
“Really?” Her heart did a little two step. Even though she was settling in at the ranch, she couldn’t help being excited over a sneak peek at what would be her home.
Quinn led her down a narrow alley and a staircase leading up to a faded gray door. “Watch your step. We came up here when checking out the beams but didn’t fix any of the soft spots on the stairs.”
The steps creaked under their feet, the sound echoing in her ears against the thudding of every heartbeat. At the top, Quinn pushed open the door, and Eloise stepped into the surprisingly spacious room, and back in time about a hundred or so years.
Sunlight filtered through grimy windows, catching the dust they’d stirred up. The space was huge—spanning from back to front of the building. Strips of old wallpaper, probably stylish in its time, hung peeled from the walls after decades of stifling heat and humidity. In one corner, an ancient cast-iron wood-burning stove stood sentinel.
“Oh my goodness.” Eloise moved toward the stove, running her hand over its surface. “This is a Monarch 6210. They were the cream of the crop in the early 1900s.”
Pulling a flashlight from his pocket, Quinn flashed the beam on the old appliance. “You know about antique stoves?”
“My first restaurant job, the owner collected them.” She opened one of the oven doors carefully. “This one’s completely intact. With a little restoration effort, it could probably still work.”
“Here’s something else you might like.” Quinn moved to a corner, illuminating what looked like an old cabinet.
As Eloise drew closer, she saw the old freestanding cabinet was actually a Hoosier. Aged oak with a slate top and the original flour sifter still attached. “The woman who lived here must have loved to cook.” Eloise opened one of the cabinet doors, revealing a collection of ancient utensils. “Holy dairy. A butter mold. And a nutmeg grinder.”
“I know the kitchen is your domain, but do people still use these things?” Quinn’s gaze danced from one ancient utensil to the other.
She shrugged. “I doubt most people even know what they are, but as far back as I can remember, I’ve always loved cooking. Watched cooking shows on television as a kid, and eventually got hooked on antique shows. Oddities like this always came up. I even have a few boxed up and in storage from when I had time to hit estate sales and antique shops.”
“I look forward to seeing your collections some day.”
Surprised by the comment, she turned to see him better in the dimly lit room. Sincerity sparkled in his eyes. Had she ever known anyone who cared one lick about antique kitchen tools? She didn’t know what to make of the gruff man with few words, but she wouldn’t mind learning more. Spinning around, she reached for what she thought was an old coffee grinder. “Oh, wow. It still has beans in it.”
Quinn leaned closer, his presence warm at her shoulder. “I guess they’ve been preserved in time since the town went bust.”
Scanning the sparse dust covered, furnishings she shook her head. “It’s like somebody just walked away one day and never came back.”
“Or maybe,” he hefted a lazy shoulder, “the ghosts like it.”
“Ghosts?”
Now he had to resist the urge to chuckle at her startled reaction. “It is a ghost town.”
“Yeah, but no one said anything about real ghosts.” Turning slowly, she took in the whole space with such intensity that he wondered if she thought he was serious. “Ghosts.” With a quick bob of her head, she huffed out a deep breath and shifted to face him. “Okay let’s see the rest of it.”
Carefully following her, Quinn took his time, stopping when she stopped, leaning over for a closer look at anything that interested her. When she walked into a third room with an intact bedroom suite, including an old armoire and vanity set, she almost lost her breath.
Stopping at the dresser, Quinn opened one of the drawers. “Well crafted. You don’t see furniture like this anymore. No nails. Dove tails fit together perfectly. Fascinating.”
“There’s a lot to do, isn’t there?”
Quinn nodded. “First and foremost, we have to carve out a couple of bathrooms. You’ll want more than an armoire for closets, so most of these walls will have to be taken down and moved.”
“Bathrooms would be nice.” She flashed a toothy grin at him. “And closets would be appreciated too, but I want to keep the Monarch and the Hoosier. They deserve to be part of the new space.”
Quinn’s chuckle was warm in the musty air. “They’ll need to be restored if you’re going to actually use them.”
“I’m not sure I know where to begin, but,” she smiled up at him, “every home should have a piece of history, don’t you think?”
His gaze leveled with hers and he stared at her for so long with such intensity, she wondered what the man was thinking. Finally, his lips parted and he muttered, “Things of beauty need to be cherished.”
His voice came out low and deep, and sounded smooth as melted butter. What she didn’t know was whether he was referring to the kitchen or something else. Without moving, his gaze remained fixed on her and she had an overwhelming urge to stand in his personal space and see what he would do. Except the sound of his brothers calling up the stairs broke the moment.
Quinn cleared his throat. “We should head down. The salvaged hardwood floors for the dining room are due to be delivered any minute. That’s probably what those two yahoos are hollering about.”
Nodding, Eloise took a step in retreat and then followed him out the door. As they descended the stairs, she cast one last look up at the apartment. Life was looking really good—in so many ways. Oh how she hoped Danny was going to love this place as much as she already did. Then again, maybe it would be nicer to have a little house with a view of the sunset, and maybe even better, a tall dark and handsome cowboy—or carpenter—to go with it.
“I’ll see your five and raise you five.” Eileen Callahan Farraday tossed a few chips into the pot. Having Eloise in the house to help with breakfast and clean up had helped her get to town early enough to join in on the Tuckers Bluff Ladies Afternoon Social Club’s biweekly card game at the café.
Ruth Ann raised one brow at her long-time friend. “I think you’re bluffing. See your five.”
An echo of “I’m in” moved around the table.
Dorothy, Declan Farraday’s grandmother-in-law, folded her cards and tapped them lightly on the table. “What I want to know is what’s this new chef like?”
“I told you,” Eileen tossed two cards onto the table. “Nice.”
“Nice,” Sally May said with a sigh. “We want more than that.”
Eileen shrugged. “She’s a good cook.”
“Or course she’s a good cook,” Dorothy hissed. “She’s a chef.”
Unable to hold back her amusement at teasing her old friends, Eileen cracked a smile and set her cards face down on the table. “All right.”
All of her friends leaned in closer over the table in the corner of the café as if Eileen were about to reveal national secrets. “She’s petite, has blonde hair cropped just above her shoulders, pretty blue eyes, and smiles like there’s no tomorrow.”
Ruth Ann bobbed her head. “So she’s nice,” the woman teased back.
“Told ya!” Eileen winked and burst into laughter before clearing her throat to continue. “She’s also a damn good cook. I mean, all I’ve tasted is her breakfast, but that casserole she made was to die for. I’ve never seen all my men shovel food so fast in my life.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” Dorothy picked up her cards. “I was afraid the council was going to hire some fancy French chef with a heavy accent, a flair for the dramatic, and haute cuisine like snails and raw beef on the menu.”
“It’s not raw,” Ruth Ann rolled her eyes, “it’s tartar .”
“Whatever.” Dorothy stared at her cards a moment before returning her attention to Eileen. “Any chance she’ll take to one of your boys?”
It always made Eileen smile how in her and her friend’s eyes, her grown nephews were still boys. “I’m thinking so.”
“Your eyes are sparkling.” Ruth Ann studied her. “Which one is tripping over himself? Quinn or Ryan?”
“Not sure yet.”
“Oh?” Dorothy tipped her head. “Is she drooling over one of the boys?”
Eileen shook her head.
“Then what is it?” Sally May huffed.
Leaning forward more, Eileen looked around their table then still smiling, let her gaze dart from friend to friend. “Gray is glued to her side!”
All her friends leaned back in their seats, clapped their hands and giggled like schoolgirls. Dorothy was the one to squeal, “Looks like another Farraday wedding on the horizon.”
Following Eloise to the front of the building, Quinn paused at the sound of the delivery crew arguing over who should put the hardwood planks where. Shaking his head at them, he continued up the porch steps, their voices faded into the background noise as his mind lingered on the apartment tour.
The way Eloise’s eyes had lit up at each discovery wouldn’t leave him. How naturally she’d rattled off details about antique kitchen tools that he’d assumed were just junk. Her excitement over the Monarch stove had been contagious—he’d already decided to talk to Connie, Neil’s decorator wife, about having it restored. Somewhere on one of their past jobs back in Oklahoma, he remembered her having a restoration specialist who could take the ugliest piece of garbage and make it look—and work—like showroom new.
“Earth to Quinn.” Morgan’s voice broke through his thoughts. “Do you care where they put these boards?”
Quinn blinked, forcing his mind back to the task at hand. “Stack them along the east wall. They need to acclimate to the space before installation.”
Morgan rolled his eyes at his brother and walked away muttering, “Tell us something we don’t already know.”
Addressing the delivery people, Quinn extended his arm. “Pile the planks along that far wall, out of the way of our current working area.” One eye on the men stacking the wood, the rest of his mind was already mentally sketching what he himself would do to bring that old Hoosier cabinet back to life. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this excited about a project. All he hoped was that Eloise liked surprises.