Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Eleanor would never, ever dare to doubt the powers of Miriam Landers.
She hadn’t done so before, but she now had abundant evidence as to why such a thing was a terrible idea, indeed.
It had taken Miriam approximately twenty-six hours to hear about Eleanor’s worries over the permit situation that Winnie had mentioned, research all the relevant town ordinances, and bring back a stack of paperwork that had to be at least two inches thick.
And certainly the woman had spent… at least part of that time sleeping, hadn’t she?
“How you doing in here, El?”
Garrett came in from the kitchen, a glass of wine in each hand. He set them both on the table, then put a warm, wide hand on the back of her neck, kneading the tight knots in her muscles that had cropped up practically the instant she’d started looking at the permits.
“Um,” she said. “Good?”
There was not a lot of confidence in her tone. Garret squeezed a little harder, and she leaned back into his touch.
“Well, I don’t think you’re going to resolve it all tonight,” he said, looking at where the papers were scattered across her dining room table. “So, maybe it’s worth taking a break. Then we’ll reassess tomorrow.”
“Aw, you said ‘we,’” she teased, smiling up at him.
“Don’t give me that look, woman,” he said, dropping into the chair behind her. “I’m helpful.”
“You’re extremely helpful,” she agreed. “You’re just also very fun to tease. Thank you for this though,” she added, hefting the wine glass before taking a sip. “It’s just what I needed to not freak out about all this paperwork.”
He sifted idly through it. “It looks like a lot, but it might not be as terrible as it looks on the surface.” At her skeptical look, he shrugged a shoulder. “I’ve done this before, you will recall. I didn’t have to rezone from residential to commercial, but I did file all this other… hoopla.”
“Your terminology is not reassuring,” she added dryly. “But your assistance is much appreciated, even if it was Miriam’s help that got me into my current state.”
Beneath his beard, Garrett’s lips twisted into a smile. “Miriam Landers is a force to be reckoned with. Even the town curmudgeon knows that.”
“The force I’m more worried about is Winnie Burnett,” she admitted. “She did not exactly seem thrilled by my project when she approached me. And if she’s as fearsome as I’ve been led to believe, I really don’t want to be on her bad side.”
“I’m not entirely sure the woman has a good side,” he said wryly, which made her blink at him in surprise. He held up the hand that wasn’t holding his wine glass. “Hey, I might be the grumpy hardware guy, but I’ve lived here for a long time too. I hear things!”
“I think you’re not as grumpy as you seem,” she groused. “But again: this is not reassuring information!”
“If it helps, I don’t think she’s mean. She just likes the rules to be followed. So, if you follow all the rules…”
“I should be in good shape,” she finished for him. “Okay.” Then, following another sip of wine, “Okay. I am starting to feel as confident as I pretended to feel yesterday. I think the key here is just to not get overwhelmed. One stinkin’ document at a time.”
“Attagirl,” Garrett said, tugging her toward him so he could press a kiss to her temple. “It’s all going to be okay. You’ll get through this, and your bookstore will open. And it will be amazing.”
She turned in her chair so that she was facing him, propping on elbow on the paper-strewn table and leaning her head against her fist.
“It’s just a little scary,” she confided.
“I’ve had so many amazing things happen to me this year.
Moving here, meeting you, making all the friends I’ve made…
I know that my life will still be full and wonderful if the bookstore doesn’t work out, but I really, really want it to work out.
So I’m a little torn between throwing my whole heart into it and protecting myself from getting my hopes totally dashed to pieces, you know? ”
He reached out a hand and cupped her cheek. “Hey. Listen. You hope away. You’ve got me, and you’ve got your friends. And, most important, you’ve got you. So, step one, drink that wine I poured for you.”
He held her gaze until she smiled and took a sip.
“There you go,” he said. “Step two, we organize this crazy mess you’ve made. Step three, we put together a pile of paperwork that will make Winnie Burnett quake in her boots. Sound good?”
“Yeah,” Eleanor said, feeling more confident than she had since she first saw Winnie looking at her with a doubtful expression. She really was a lucky woman to have found someone as wonderful as Garrett Wilder for. Her second act. “That sounds pretty good to me.”