Chapter Six
Ryan wedged another temporary support beam under the sagging roofline, testing its stability with his weight.
The old carriage house groaned in response—a century of settling and neglect didn’t fix itself overnight.
“That should hold till we can sister the main beam.” He stepped back, surveying the forest of supports they’d installed since dawn.
Morgan appeared at his shoulder, blueprint in hand.
“Once we get this structure stabilized we can split the crews. Half will work on updating this original structure and the other half can start construction on the rear addition for the modern accommodations for the horses and carriages for the tourist rides.”
“Found another weak joist up here,” Quinn called down from the loft. “Gonna need replacing.”
“Add it to the list.” Morgan marked something on his notes, then turned toward where Nicole stood examining the back wall and gestured to Ryan. “Show Nicole the corbels and cornices we salvaged.”
Dusting off his hands, Ryan strode across to where Nicole stood waiting for her first assignment.
During the drive to work this morning she’d remained pretty quiet, occasionally sipping coffee from her travel mug and giving him little more than a nod, or a single word response to any conversation he tried for.
He recognized those first day on the job nerves.
It seemed like ages ago since he worked for other people and had to prove himself, but he still remembered the feeling.
From the open front doorway, Valerie appeared, her blonde hair tucked under a hard hat that looked suspiciously clean. Behind her, a cameraman adjusted a lens, while a sound tech hovered with a boom mic.
“Almost,” Valerie called back. “I need Quinn to walk in and discover the ‘structural crisis’ one more time. The lighting yesterday was too flat on the first take.”
Quinn let out a theatrical groan. “I’ve discovered that crisis four times already, Val. My acting range is starting to peak.”
“Just one more,” Valerie said with a grin. “And Nicole, stay clear of the shot for a second. We want to establish the brothers working before we introduce the ‘new blood’ to the viewers.”
Nicole stepped back, inching closer to Ryan. “I gather this is what Mike tried to warn me about?”
“Welcome to the magic of television.” Ryan tracked Quinn as he stepped outside to prepare for his ‘re-entry.’ Watching his brother was probably safer than watching Nicole. Somehow the woman made simply standing in one spot wearing painter’s pants and a crew neck t-shirt look…well, good.
Waiting for the action to begin, he glanced around the site.
Jet was across the room, untangling a coil of heavy-duty rope.
The man hadn’t said a word yet, but he was definitely watching Nicole out of the corner of his eye.
Ryan shifted his position, effectively putting his broad shoulders between Jet’s line of sight and Nicole.
He told himself he was watching her because Mike had asked him to, but the way the morning sun filtered through the gaps in the siding and caught the chestnut highlights in her ponytail made that excuse feel a little thin.
“Action!” Valerie called.
Marching into the shop, Quinn stopped, looked at the sagging beam, and let out a huff of faux-surprise. “Morgan, we’ve got a problem. This corner’s settled more than we originally expected.”
With a practiced ease that suggested he’d done this a few dozen times, Morgan played along. They went through the dialogue, discussed the stabilization plan. Out of material, Valerie called, “Cut! That’s a wrap on the discovery. Let’s get some b-roll of the crew actually working.”
“Finally.” Ryan turned to Nicole and gestured to a doorway at the back of the original livery. “Follow me and I’ll show you what we’ve got in mind.”
Nicole nodded and fell into step beside him, coming to a halt at the back wall of what had once been some kind of storage room.
“These are the corbels and cornices we have salvaged from some of the buildings. We want to use these for what will be the tourist area of the livery. Where they wait for their carriage rides.”
Bobbing her head, Nicole nibbled on her lower lip; something he was beginning to understand meant she was mentally working out a situation.
“These,” she pointed to the dentil patterned cornices, “will be easy to replicate.”
“Easy?” Not a word he often heard around restorations.
“Well,” one corner of her mouth tipped upward, “time consuming, but I’ve done it before. The corbels on the other hand, those might need to have molds made and use plaster instead of wood.” She spun around to face him. “How close do they have to look?”
From behind them, Morgan’s voice carried. “Close enough not to be noticed when riding by on a galloping horse.”
Nicole dipped her chin as her eyes widened. “Excuse me?”
Chuckling, Morgan raised a hand at her. “Sorry, something my dad used to say that his mom always said. It doesn’t have to be exact, just close enough so they look the same on a quick scan from a distance.”
Her head bobbing again, her lips pressed tightly together, Nicole studied the pieces a moment longer, carefully running a single finger down the carved edges. “Okay. I can do this.”
Morgan’s gaze darted over to Ryan’s. Without words, he knew what his brother was thinking. The same thing he was. Mike had said his sister was better than him. They were about to find out if Mike was spot on or blowing hot air.
The fine teeth of the dovetail saw bit into the salvaged cedar with a high-pitched, rhythmic whistle.
Nicole kept her elbow tucked, her stroke long and even, letting the tool do the work.
This was the kind of work that others found tedious and she found profoundly rewarding.
The gentle strokes, careful measuring, the art of bringing the old craftsmen back to life.
Not everyone had the patience for such details, but she thrived on it.
The door creaked open, but she didn’t bother to look up.
The slightest distraction could cause a slip of the hand and ruin a hard day’s work.
“We seem to have misplaced a ledger on the salvaged hardware,” Ryan spoke from the doorway. “I don’t suppose you happened to have seen anything like that in here?”
“Top drawer of the desk, right-hand side.” She finished the stroke and set the saw aside, blowing a stray curl of wood off the bench. “I moved it so I wouldn’t spill on it.”
Ryan nodded, stepping in closer, looking at the intricate scrollwork of the corbel she was using as a template. “You’ve got a steady hand. That’s a tricky radius to match by eye.”
“It’s about following the grain.” Her fingers traced the age-darkened wood. “The wood usually tells you where it wants to go if you’re patient enough to listen.”
“Listen?” A hint of a smile teased the corners of his mouth. “Never heard it put quite that way.”
Rolling her neck from left to right then back the other way, she bit back a wince. “Didn’t realize how long I’ve been hunched over.”
“You should be careful about that.” In one swift move, he’d stepped behind her and placed his fingers firmly on her neck.
Her knee-jerk reaction was to pull away and insist she was fine, except the man had fingers that felt like heaven.
Before she could form a clear thought, the tension in her shoulders was evaporating and she had an overwhelming urge to lean into his hands and start purring like a kitten with a belly full of cream.
“I’m also supposed to give you a heads-up.” His fingers continued to swirl gently against her, using more pressure when finding a knotted muscle. “The camera crew wants to get some shots of you working on the restoration pieces.”
A simple sentence that suddenly had Nicole remembering she was at work, in a job where she had yet to prove herself, and those magic fingers belonged to her sort-of boss.
Clearing her throat and taking a long step forward, she slid out from under his reach.
“Thank you, that, uh, feels much better, and I’ll be ready for the film crew. Anything special I should know?”
“Not really. They stay out of the way mostly, until they can’t see then they’ll drive you nuts looking for a better angle.” He smiled, sending a sparkle to his eyes. “And remember, they’re everywhere and you never know what will be filmed.”
“Sounds like there’s a story there.”
“Sorry. I was just remembering the time my brother put his foot through the ceiling because he missed a rafter. The film crew got just enough to hit what they called viewer gold.”
“Note to self, don’t step through the ceiling.” His smile widened and an odd sensation fluttered through her. She’d worked with lots of good looking and sometimes even charming men; why was this guy having such an effect on her?
“And on that note, it’s almost time to break for lunch. Hungry?”
When she focused on a fun project, it was easy to lose track of time. Right about now the unexpected rumble of her stomach reminded her that she’d skipped breakfast and settled for lots of hot coffee. “Starving.”
Walking down the wooden sidewalks toward the end of Main Street where Molly’s food truck was parked, Nicole felt as though she had stepped back in time.
Yes, many of the refurbished buildings had modern conveniences that weren’t around a couple hundred years ago, but everything still felt very old and very…
alive. “You know, from the little I saw of the show, I thought of this place as a backdrop. Like the town existed to make the brothers look good. But being here…”
“It has a life of its own,” he finished for her.
“Exactly. Mike always said it was more than the cameras showed, but I didn’t get it.”
“And now?”
“I understand why my brother always sounded different when he talked about working out here. He seemed, I don’t know…settled.”
Ryan’s gaze drifted back toward the livery. “This place does that to you. Gets under your skin when you’re not paying attention.”
“Is that what happened to you?” Her steps slowed as they reached the end of the street.
He hefted one shoulder in a casual shrug. “Pretty much. I came down here thinking it was temporary. Do the show, help out the cousins, and head back to Oklahoma. Then one day I realized most of the things I cared about were here instead of there.”
“Your brothers?”
“Brothers. Aunts and uncles. The projects.” He nodded toward the old building. “You spend enough time breathing life back into something like that and it’s hard to walk away.”
In only one morning she was already beginning to understand what he meant.
Her gaze drifted to Ryan stopping to answer a question for one of the crew about an order of lumber.
The man had an easy going manner that worked well with brothers and employees alike.
Shifting to take a spot in line with a handful of other crew members, the gentle aromas of onions, cilantro and brisket wafted in her direction, making her stomach rumble and her mouth water.
Was everything about Farraday Country always so… perfect?