Chapter Eight
Sleep proved impossible. Eloise tossed and turned, her mind racing with a mix of excitement and anxiety. Progress at the restaurant since Sunday dinner had been energizing. The kitchen turned out even better than she’d imagined—every piece of equipment precisely where it needed to be, precisely what she’d hoped for. Her first two hires seemed perfect: Sarah, a local girl with three years of experience at the café, and Miguel, who’d worked in some impressive kitchens in Dallas before moving here with his young family.
But thoughts of Danny’s arrival next week kept chasing away any chance of rest. Her brother had been her best friend and protector for as long as she could remember, and now, the role reversal since his return home was still new territory for her. Would he like it here? Would the quiet help or make things worse? Was it possible that the equine therapy center run by Hannah could make a true difference in Danny’s struggle?
Giving up on sleep, she slipped from bed and pulled on her robe. The house was silent except for the distant hum of crickets. She made her way downstairs, drawn to the back porch where Aunt Eileen claimed the sunset views could cure any trouble. This late, the sunset was long gone, but taking a few minutes to sway back and forth in the large green rockers that lined the back porch, and simply relax among the crickets and stars, made more sense than continuing to toss and turn.
Settled comfortably in the rocker closest to the corner, she already appreciated the light show of stars above her. Aunt Eileen had been right. Even without the setting sun, the stars flickering in the distant sky was as relaxing as any sunny day. Taking a moment to glance around, she noticed a distant light glowed from one of the outbuildings. Curious, she stepped off the porch. She felt thankful she’d fished her rubber soled slippers out from under the bed rather than head to the kitchen barefoot as she might have done otherwise.
Slowly, she made her way down the pebbled path. At the building, the door stood partially open, and the rhythmic sound of sandpaper against wood drifted out. Quinn sat on a work stool, carefully smoothing the arm of a rocking chair.
“Couldn’t sleep either?” she asked softly.
He looked up, not seeming surprised to see her. “It’s for Aunt Eileen’s birthday.”
“It’s beautiful.” She stepped closer, admiring the chair’s graceful lines. “Are you refinishing it?”
He shook his head. “Not this time. She loves antiques. My original plan was to find an old one in a barn somewhere—there’s always old furniture stored in lofts in this part of Texas—but never came across one that seemed right, so…”
“You made this?” She hadn’t meant for her voice to sound so surprised.
“I did.” He nodded. “I’m almost done.
The warm golden wood gleamed in the workshop’s light. “When is her birthday?”
“Not till next month, but I didn’t want to rush.”
Running her hands over the bowed back, she couldn’t help but marvel at his craftsmanship. She already knew he could raise a wall or build a cabinet with the best of them, but this, this was something special. “She’ll love it.”
“Hope so.” He set aside the sandpaper. “What’s keeping you up?”
“Everything. Nothing.” She perched on the edge of his workbench. “The kitchen’s perfect, so far I’m really happy with the people we’ve hired, but…”
“Danny?”
She nodded, surprised and yet somewhat pleased that he seemed to know what was worrying her. “I keep wondering if I’m doing the right thing. The city had become too much for him. He wanted to get away, but is moving us all the way out here just to escape Chicago’s noise and crowds overkill?”
Quinn was quiet for a moment, his hands resting on the chair’s arm. “Well, you know there are no crowds, and not a lot of noise, around here. Sometimes the right thing doesn’t feel right until after you’ve done it.”
The workshop scents of sawdust and furniture polish added to the feeling of comforting peace. “What’s that?” She pushed to her feet and crossed over to a pair of candlestick end tables.
“Those are barnyard finds. Thought it would be fun to restore them.”
One was already nearly finished. Sturdy, strong, the finish smooth and shiny. The other, held together by clamps, looked like it had sat in too many years of sun and rain. “I guess this one was in worse shape.”
He slowly shook his head. “No. The other was worse, that’s why I started with it.”
Running her fingers against the pristine antiquity and then the scratchy surface of the work in progress, she marveled at the woodwork in this room. A reflection of the man himself. Steady. Reliable. The kind of person who could take broken things and make them whole again. Useful. Beautiful.
“You’re close to your brother.” Quinn reached for a different grade of sandpaper.
“He’s always been there for me. Would always throw just enough of a fit so we wouldn’t be separated in the system.”
“System?”
“Foster care.” Still fingering more of his woodwork, she heard his slight intake of breath. “Danny’s probably the reason I made it through foster care. No matter what, he always looked out for me.” Somehow, finding the words, sharing the memories, the hurts, came easier in the quiet workshop. “When things got bad, he’d sneak into the kitchen, make me hot chocolate. Even if it was just powder and hot water, he always made it feel special.”
Quinn nodded, his hands moving steadily over the wood. “And now it’s your turn to take care of him.”
“I just hope I’m doing it right.” Back at his side, she traced a finger along the chair’s smooth arm. “The therapist in Chicago thinks the quiet will help. Says he needs space to breathe.”
“Plenty of that here.” Quinn looked up, meeting her eyes. “And plenty of people who understand about needing to heal.”
Something in his voice made her heart skip, her mind running through how supportive Hannah and Connor had been as well as his cousin Ethan. She watched his hands move over the wood, strong and gentle at the same time. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For making me feel like maybe I’m not crazy for uprooting everything and coming halfway across the country to a ghost town to start a new life.”
The soft smile that stretched across his face seemed to hug her like a warm blanket. “Nothing crazy about wanting to help someone you love.”
So the gruff and quiet cowboy had a soft spot. Had she realized that before? Mentally nodding to herself, she knew she had. All the Farraday men were good and honorable, any idiot could see that. But Quinn, he was strong and honorable and gentle and sensitive, and someone she most definitely wanted to get to know better. She could only hope that Danny would take to Farraday country and give her that chance. There was one other thing she was sure of—she really wanted that chance.
Quinn sat perfectly still, watching Eloise’s fingers trail over the sanded arm of the rocker. Her touch was gentle, appreciative—the same way she handled ingredients in the kitchen. Like she understood the value of things others might overlook.
A longing to cover her hand with his and share his work more closely surprised him. He wanted to know so much more about her, about her past, her life, her dreams, but he had no idea where to start. “I guess your interest in antiques extends outside the kitchen?”
Her head bobbed as she pulled her hand away from the rocking chair. “Since the council mentioned a furnished apartment, I decided to sell most of my furniture.”
“I see,” he spoke softly.
“Danny found me a deal on a moving truck already coming to West Texas and had room for a small load. Extra clothes, some of my kitchenware, an old restored dresser.”
“You restore furniture?”
She chuckled. “Not me. Danny tried.”
“Tried?” Unless it was in pieces, he didn’t understand how the word tried came into play.
“He went through this phase of watching DIY videos. Bought this old dresser at a yard sale. Let’s just say it didn’t end quite the way he expected.”
“But you kept it anyway?” It wasn’t really a question.
She nodded. “I use it as a nightstand. The bottom drawer sticks and if I tug too hard the front falls off, so I leave it closed.”
“Hm,” he muttered, mostly so she knew he was listening.
“It’s a bit eclectic in its color scheme—”
“Color scheme? He didn’t stain it?”
“No. Like I said, it didn’t turn out the way he expected, but I loved it nonetheless.”
“Because your brother did the work?” Again, not really a question. The answer could be heard by the fondness in her voice when she spoke about her brother. The entire exchange made Quinn want to smile, pull her into a hug, and tell her what a good sister she was. “So he’s not very handy?”
“Used to be. Before…” She settled back against a nearby workbench. “He was a combat engineer. Built bridges, cleared roads. Could fix anything that broke down in the field.”
That explained a lot. Quinn had seen it before—skilled hands that suddenly couldn’t remember their purpose. Maybe his uncle was right, keeping Danny busy at the ranch could be better for him than letting him hibernate in a quiet room.
“He used to love projects.” Her voice softened, admiring a wooden cigar box he’d refinished for his dad. “Remember that hot chocolate I mentioned? One Christmas, he rigged up this whole elaborate pulley system between our rooms. Said Santa needed help delivering to foster kids.”
Quinn’s heart squeezed. He tried imagining young Eloise and her brother, making the best of whatever situation they landed in. “Sounds like he took good care of you.”
“Still does. When he’s not struggling with his own demons, he checks on me. Calls to make sure I’m eating more than kitchen scraps during prep hours.”
Setting aside his tools, Quinn studied the woman perched on his workbench. Strong enough to run a professional kitchen, gentle enough to understand broken things needed time to heal. “The restaurant’s going to be something special.”
“You think so?” A smile teasing her lips, hope bloomed in her eyes.
“Know so.” He gestured to the chair. “Some things, you can see the potential even when they’re still rough. Just takes the right person to bring it out.”
Her smile in the workshop’s light made his chest tight. “You’re good at that, aren’t you? Seeing the potential in things?”
“Trying to be. I love taking old things and giving them life again.” He picked up his sandpaper again, needing something to do with his hands. Focused on the smooth grain of the wood beneath his fingers, he was careful not to meet her eyes. “Maybe… I can show you how?” The silence that followed made him look up.
Her smile could have lit up all of West Texas. “I’d like that.”
Their locked gazes lingered a moment longer when Eloise finally slid off the workbench. “It’s getting late. I should try to sleep.”
“Sweet dreams.” Watching her move toward the door, he noticed how she paused to run her hand along the chair’s back one more time.
“Quinn?” She turned in the doorway. “Thank you. For listening.”
He nodded, not trusting his voice. After she left, he sat in the quiet workshop, thinking about brothers who protected their sisters, about broken things that could be made whole again, and about the way some people just fit perfectly into your life like the last missing piece of a giant jigsaw puzzle. He couldn’t help but wonder if she felt the same way.