What She'd Do for Love Read online

  “Is this the famous Handyman Raffle everyone’s talking about?” her dad asked as they neared one of the largest booths at the fair. Kelly and Christa and some others had decorated the structure to look like an old blacksmith shop, with large posters of cowboys branding cattle on either side of the entrance, and old branding irons hanging from the beams inside.

  “We have some women offering their services, too,” Christa said. A large whiteboard in front of the booth displayed the names of the people who had agreed to offer an afternoon of their services for the raffle. A line of clay flowerpots filled a long bench inside the booth, each pot labeled with the name of one of the volunteers. Anyone could purchase a raffle ticket for one dollar and put the ticket in the pot corresponding with the person whose services he or she wanted to win. The winners could avail themselves of the volunteers’ talents at painting, auto repair, carpentry or other household skills.

  “This must be the most popular booth at the fair.” Mom nodded to the row of flowerpots. “They’re all getting full. A couple of them are almost overflowing.”

  “I’ll admit I was skeptical about the idea at first,” Christa said. “But it looks like we’re going to raise a lot of money for charity.”

  “And a lot of people will be getting those odd jobs they’ve been putting off completed before winter,” Dad said.

  “I see Ryder is drawing a lot of interest.” Mom pointed to the pot labeled with the engineer’s name. Tickets spilled out of it onto the table.

  “He has a knack for drawing people to him,” Dad said. “You can’t help but like him.”

  Christa followed her father’s gaze to a picnic table nearby, where Ryder stood, surrounded by a crowd. Most of the single women in town had ended up there, she noted, an uncomfortable tightness in her chest. Ryder laughed at something someone said, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners, mouth open to show straight, white teeth. He wore his Stetson pushed back slightly on his head, and his customary white Western-cut shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal tanned forearms. Pressed jeans and boots made him look as if he’d lived here all his life, working a ranch and joining endless debates about the weather and politics.

  Did he blend in this seamlessly everywhere he went? The idea unsettled her. Was his friendliness just a costume he put on to fit in, with no real feeling to back it up? After all, how much could you really care about other people when you knew you wouldn’t be around them very long? Maybe Ryder got along with everyone so well because he never truly let himself get involved. That would be the practical approach, wouldn’t it? The kind of thing a man who valued thinking over feeling might do.

  The crowd shifted to reveal Peggy Oakes standing beside her son. She wore a stylish shift and designer sunglasses, her hair pinned in a neat chignon. “Who is that with Ryder?” Mom asked.

  “That’s his mother. She lives in Dallas.”

  “I’d love to meet her.” Mom, with Dad in tow, started toward the crowd around Ryder. Christa hurried after them.

  As they drew closer, she couldn’t help overhearing the conversation taking place. “What are your particular skills?” asked a petite redhead Christa didn’t recognize.

  “Oh, I’m good with my hands,” he said, to much laughter.

  He was clearly in his element.

  He looked up at their approach. “Hello, Bud, Adele, Christa.” He put his arm around his mother. “This is my mom, Peggy. She drove over from Dallas for the festival.”

  “Mrs. Oakes, these are my parents, Bud and Adele Montgomery,” Christa said.

  “You must call me Peggy.” She clasped their hands, her smile a copy of her son’s. “I’m so happy to meet you.”

  “I didn’t know Ryder had family so close,” Mom said. “How nice to meet you.”

  “Christa, Ryder tells me this raffle was your idea,” Peggy said, her enthusiasm could be heard in her tone.

  “Oh no. I did help pull it together. The credit should go to Didi Raybourn. She was the one who made the suggestion.”

  “Well, whoever came up with it, I think it’s brilliant.” Peggy looked around her at the crowded park. “Of course, I just got here. I’m anxious to see more of the fair.”

  “I’ll show you around, Mom,” Ryder said.

  “Will you come with us, Christa?” Peggy turned to Bud and Adele. “Do you mind if I borrow your daughter for a while?”

  “Not at all,” Bud said. “Adi and I plan to go visit the stage and listen to the music for a while.” He nodded toward the stage set beneath a trio of spreading live oaks, where a local bluegrass band was setting up.

  Christa would have rather gone with her parents, but she couldn’t think of a gracious way to refuse Peggy’s invitation. “We’ll see you later, when it’s time for the raffle,” Mom said, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.

  Christa fell into step on one side of Ryder, his mom on the other. Though he didn’t touch her, she felt touched by him, aware of him next to her, his broad-shouldered, definitely masculine shadow merging with her smaller form in the bright sunlight. She forced her attention away from the man who unsettled her so, to their surroundings. This was the first chance she’d had to tour the various booths on display, and she had to admit, the Festival was turning into a big success. Every booth was busy, people smiling and chatting and having a good time. She and Ryder and Peggy bought snow-cones from the School Booster’s booth, and laughed at the antics of a group of rowdy boys as they pounded each other with pillows at a games booth.

  “I love all these black-and-white photos at the booths,” Peggy said, stopping to admire a poster of a trio of girls on horseback in front of a ranch gate.

  “Most of them are of Christa’s family’s ranch,” Ryder said. He looked to Christa for confirmation. “Isn’t that right?”

  “Yes. We have albums full of pictures in the attic at home. I had some of them made into posters to illustrate the area’s ranching heritage.”

  They moved to the next booth, and Peggy paused again, this time in front of the photo of Christa’s grandparents. “Who are these people?” she asked.

  “That’s my grandmother and grandfather.”

  Peggy studied Christa. “Your grandmother was Asian?”

  “Vietnamese. They met and married during the war.”

  “Fascinating.” She turned to Ryder. “Your father had a friend who married a Vietnamese woman during the war. The top brass really frowned on such relationships, so it meant the end of his military career. I think he went back to school and became a pharmacist or something.”

  “He must have loved her very much,” Christa said.

  “Making sacrifices in the name of love always sounds so romantic,” she said. “I’m not sure the reality is so sweet and easy. Then again, love can make people do some crazy things.”

  “Do you think your marrying dad was a crazy thing?” Ryder asked. He wore a pinched, cautious expression, as if he wasn’t certain he wanted to hear her answer.

  “No, we weren’t crazy. We had some wonderful years together, and I’m very proud of my children.” She patted his arm. “In the end, it didn’t work out, but I don’t believe in wasting time with regrets.”

  So Ryder’s practical side didn’t only come from his military father. Christa checked the time on her phone and was surprised to see that more than an hour had passed since she’d joined Peggy and Ryder on their tour of the festival. “I have a few things I need to check on,” she said.

  “We’ll see you at the raffle,” Peggy said. “Did you buy any tickets?”

  The question caught her off guard. “Oh no. I mean, what would I need a handyman for?”

  Peggy looked amused. “Why, indeed?”

  “I’d better go. See you later.” She turned and started across the park, toward the stage, where she hoped to find her parents.

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nbsp; “Christa!” Kelly waylaid Christa before she’d gone more than a few yards. She hurried up to her friend, a little breathless. “Isn’t it great?”

  “The festival?” Christa said. “Yes, it’s going even better than I’d hoped.”

  “Oh, that, too. But I was talking about the raffle. We’re raising all kinds of money. All the volunteers are getting lots of bids.”

  “So maybe this is even better than a kissing booth,” Christa teased.

  “Oh, I don’t know about that, but it did turn out to be a good idea.” She leaned closer, her tone confiding. “I hope you don’t mind, but we bought a couple of tickets in your name.”

  Christa narrowed her eyes. Kelly’s cheeks were flushed, the picture of guilt. “And just whom am I bidding on?”

  “We wanted to get the bidding going for Ryder, so we didn’t figure you’d mind.”

  She did mind, but Kelly obviously meant well. A couple of raffle tickets wouldn’t hurt. “Let’s just hope I don’t win,” she said.

  “Oh, don’t tell me you couldn’t find something to do with Ryder for four hours,” Kelly said. “It’s not like he’s hard to be around.”

  “Right.” Except that Christa did find it difficult to be around Ryder sometimes. On one hand, he was a good listener and a thoughtful conversationalist. On the other hand, his outlook on life was so different from her own. The things she valued—home, family and stability—didn’t seem to mean as much to him. Her attraction to him confused her. After a year filled with so many changes, she wanted a man she could depend on to always be there for her. Ryder wasn’t going to ever stay in one place too long, so he clearly wasn’t a man she could count on.

  “I gotta go,” Kelly said. “I promised Mama I’d help with the Ladies Auxiliary booth. They’re selling popcorn and lemonade.”

  “I’ll stop by in a bit and say ‘Hi’,” Christa said. “I’m going to find Mom and Dad.”

  She spotted them in the crowd around the stage, standing together arm in arm, her mother’s head on her father’s shoulder. The knowledge that they were still so much in love after almost thirty years together brought a lump to Christa’s throat. That was the kind of love she wanted, with a man who would move mountains to be with her.

  She shifted her gaze to the rest of the crowd, made up of both familiar faces and strangers. The shady oaks offered respite from the heat of the day, and the band’s music was lively; people nodded and tapped toes in time with the music. Dads held little children up so they could see better, and a few couples on the edges were dancing.

  This was the way she remembered things from her childhood—Saturday fairs in the town park, where she ate too much cotton candy while her mother sold cookies at the church booth and her father played dominoes with his rancher friends.

  Everything about those days had been idyllic—and maybe a little too perfect. Her father often accused her of having a very selective memory about her childhood. Truthfully, Cedar Grove had already passed its prime by the time she was old enough to remember much. Even as a small child, she recalled boarded up buildings on Main Street and having to drive fifty miles to a department store to buy good shoes for church.

  Still, today was how it should be, and it had all been inspired by her memories of her childhood. Though her father and Ryder had accused her of looking at the world through rose-colored glasses, sometimes those glasses could provide a better vision of what the future ought to look like. She liked to aim for that vision, even if the results were less than perfect. That was much better than never bothering to try at all.

  CHAPTER TEN

  RYDER HAD ATTENDED his share of small town festivals over the years, but he had to admit Cedar Grove’s Summer Festival was better than most. The setting—in the green park in the shade of oaks and elms—was particularly inviting. And everyone he met seemed to go out of their way to welcome him. The food from the various booths was delicious, and he’d had fun trying his hand at tossing bottle caps into cups and trying to hit a target with bean bags, all in the name of contributing to local charities.

  Having his mom there made the day special, too. He’d forgotten how much fun she could be. Today brought back memories of attending village Fetes in England and touring Saturday markets in France. Though his father had often been away on tours of duty, his mother had tried to entertain her three children and teach them about the areas where they’d lived.

  “That was very thoughtful of you to volunteer for the raffle,” his mom said as they browsed a booth full of hand-dyed scarves and T-shirts.

  “I was flattered to be asked,” he said. “I can certainly spare an afternoon to re-hang a crooked door or paint a fence or install a ceiling fan.”

  “My guess is that a good number of the tickets in that overflowing flowerpot are from local single women.” She held up a scarf dyed in shades of teal and pink. “A man like you, good-looking and employed, is considered quite the catch, I think.”

  “Mom, please.” He looked around, hoping no one was listening. “It’s a handyman raffle, not a bachelor auction.”

  “Still, I’ve seen how the women around here look at you. You could have your pick if you were interested.”

  “There’s no sense getting involved with someone when I’m only going to be here a little while.”

  “Hmmm.” She folded the scarf over her arm. “I think I’ll get a couple of these for your sisters for Christmas. Do you want to buy one for Christa?”

  Did she purposely pretend not to hear what he’d said? “I don’t need to buy a scarf for Christa.”

  “You could call it a thank-you gift, for getting you involved in the auction.”

  “She wouldn’t see it that way.” He pictured her throwing the gift back in his face, or at least accusing him of going too far.

  “You two seem to be good friends,” his mother said.

  “Not good enough for me to buy her presents.” A gift would definitely send the wrong message.

  Despite the closeness he felt to her sometimes, she acted as if she didn’t trust him. Her reaction when he’d asked her out had wounded his pride a little, he could admit. If he was going to date while he was in Cedar Grove—and that was a big if—he’d be better off finding someone whose opinion didn’t matter to him quite so much.

  “Attention, everyone!” came the announcement over a loudspeaker. “You’ll want to start making your way to the Handyman Raffle booth. In a few minutes, we’re going to begin drawing names for the raffle winners. And we need all our volunteers at the booth right away.”

  “I guess that means me,” Ryder said.

  His mother set aside the scarves and hooked her arm through his. “I’ll come back for the scarves later. I don’t want to miss a minute of this.”

  As they neared the booth, Paul Raybourn caught up to them. “Are you ready?” he asked.

  “I guess so.” Ryder could admit to a few butterflies. After all, he wanted to make a good showing in front of his new friends.

  “I can’t believe some poor winner gets me to do their chores,” Paul said. “I hope they don’t expect a professional job.”

  “Maybe your wife will win,” Peggy said.

  “That would be worst of all. At home, I can put off jobs, saying I’m too busy. But if she paid cash for my services, I don’t think I’ll be able to get away with that excuse.”

  They joined the crowd around the raffle booth. Someone had brought the Public Address system to the booth, so that everyone in the park could hear the announcement of the winners. Ryder spotted Christa standing with her mother and father near the front of the crowd. “The woman who’s going to draw the names is Janet Jepson, Kelly’s mother,” Paul informed them.

  The trim, white-haired woman took up a position behind the table lined with the names of the people who had volunteered their time. “Let’s begin!�
�� she announced, and plunged her hand into the first flowerpot.

  “The handyman in question is Paul Raybourn,” Janet told the crowd. “And the winner for Paul is...Monica Makepeace.”

  Paul let out a muffled groan, but strode forward to claim the ticket. A woman with long, flowing hair, even longer skirts and a vibe that was somewhere between Flower Child and Earth Mother, threw her arms around him in a hug. “We’ve got a new solar system at our yurt and I know you’re just the man to help us set it up,” she said.

  “Sounds like fun,” Ryder whispered when Paul returned to his side.

  “Monica’s all right,” Paul said. “Just a little...unique.”

  Janet chose a series of names in quick succession and men and women of all ages were paired with couples, older men, younger women and grandmotherly types. The biggest laugh of the day was drawn by a girl, all of six or seven years old, who won the services of a burly ranch hand. “I want you to build me a playhouse,” she declared, and the man solemnly promised that he would do exactly that.

  Finally, only one flowerpot remained on the table, belonging to the last name on the list—Ryder. His mother nudged him. “They’re saving the best for last,” she said. Was it his imagination, or were tensions running especially high as Janet stirred the raffle tickets? “In case some of you don’t know who Ryder Oakes is, he’s in charge of the new highway construction project,” Janet said as she stirred. “The girls running this raffle finagled him into participating and he was a good sport about it. Looks like he drew a lot of bidders, too.” She closed her eyes and pulled a ticket from the pot. “And the lucky winner is...” Janet’s smile widened. “Christa Montgomery.”

  All the breath left Ryder as he tried to process this information. Christa was the last person he’d have thought would bid on him. He searched the crowd for her, wondering what job she had planned for him.