chapter 8

*Grace*

“Well?” I step off the covered porch as the repairman approaches.

Making a point to look sufficiently sympathetic, he stops in front of me, making a few last notations on his quote before tearing it off the pad on his clipboard. “You’re probably not going to want to hear this, miss.”

“It ran last month. It can’t be that bad.”

“The repair isn’t hard.” He hands the quote to me, making a show of checking his phone, and inclines his body towards his truck. “But the tractor’s so old, the cost of parts is—.”

“Five thousand dollars?” I make no effort to hide my incredulity. “That’s outrageous! I can buy another tractor for that.”

Across from me, the repairman nods. “You’re right. I have a great used one at my shop I can sell you for six. In perfect shape. And newer. Be cheaper to fix in the future too. You think on it, miss.”

*Rob*

When I see the repairman coming out of the barn, I pause in my work, cocking an ear to listen to the conversation below. When it’s over, Grace storms up the steps and into the farmhouse. My gaze follows the repairman to his truck and down the drive as he leaves. Bracing my feet against the pitch, I sit down on the roof beside my tools. The man’s trying to take her for a ride. I have no doubt, and I feel bad for not intervening.

I consider for a minute. Tim was a mechanic in the Army, and last year, with Tim’s help, the four of us replaced the engine in Dan’s car in a weekend and for about a thousand dollars. The tractor’s nowhere near as complicated.

Rising, I ease myself onto the ladder and descend. At the door to the mudroom, I brush my clothes of roof debris, then enter the kitchen quietly. Upstairs, Grace’s voice is raised and high-pitched in her anxiety as she storms about talking to herself. A moment later I hear the vacuum start.

She’s cleaning. It’s bad.

The folded quote lays abandoned at the end of the counter.

Moving as silently as my work boots allow, I reach for the quote and unfold it. As with most other things I read, the letters seem to swap in and out of place, but I have no difficulty seeing the total of the repair estimate: $5068.45.

Rooting through the pockets on my work belt, I withdraw my phone. Careful to align the edges of the paper, I snap a quick photo, adding it to a text I send immediately to Tim.

What do you make of this?

Restoring the quote to its position on the counter, I make a point of making some noise, grab a glass from the cabinet and get myself some ice water, but upstairs, Grace continues her vacuuming unabated.

As I reach the roof again, I feel the phone begin to vibrate as it rings. “Hey Tim.”

“Hey. What’s going on?”

“Did you see the quote I sent?” I tuck the phone against my ear, pull on my kneepads to return to my work. “The tractor belongs to my boss, Grace. She says it worked last month, but when she tried to start it a few days ago, it wouldn’t turn over, so she called someone to look at it.”

“And that’s the quote they gave her? For a Massey Ferguson tractor, that’s criminal.”

“Yeah.” Sighing, I put aside my work and take a seat again. “She’s trying to put in crops. She doesn’t have that money.”

“A damsel in mechanical distress. My favorite kind.”

In the background, I hear Tim shuffling around. “Tell me how to get out there. Cameron and I are off today, so we can look at it this afternoon. If we can get the parts, we can work on it this weekend.”

*Grace*

Exhausted from my whirlwind cleaning, I trudge down the stairs with my laundry basket. My lower back aches and the back of my neck feels tight and though I know I’m the only person to blame for my physical state, I resent it anyway. As I reach the kitchen, I pause, stopping abruptly when I spy an unfamiliar car parked behind Rob’s. “What’s this about?” I set the laundry basket on the kitchen counter to peer out the window.

The car’s empty. Perplexed, I walk out onto the covered porch, following it around the house to the rear deck, but whoever the visitor is, they aren’t on the ground. Stepping off the deck, I peer up the ladder, squinting against the sun. Raising a hand to shield my eyes, I call, “Rob?”

When there’s no answer, I call again, this time louder. “Rob?”

The answer comes a second later from the barn. As I turn toward his voice, Rob emerges from the darkened interior, sunlight shining off his spiky hair in blue-black glints. “Here, Grace. What do you need?”

Hurrying towards him, I lower my voice. “There’s a car parked behind yours on the drive. Were you expecting someone? Oh—.” I blink rapidly in surprise. “Hello.” As I step into the shadow of the barn, my eyes adjust. Inside, gathered around my deceased tractor, three other young men about Rob’s age stop what they’re doing and straighten to stare at me.

“Ah, yeah. Sorry to frighten you.” Pointing to each in turn, Rob introduces his friends. “Grace, these are my friends. Tim, Cameron and Dan. Guys, Grace.”

Wide grins split each face, and I feel like I’m on display.

“Nice to meet you, Grace,” Cameron says, echoed by the others before the words are completely out of his mouth.

I tear my eyes from them, to look up at Rob. “What are you doing to my tractor?”

One shoulder twitches up briefly as Rob replies, “Tim was a mechanic with us in the Army. Cameron worked on electronics. I hope you don’t mind. I thought they could help.”

“Thank you.” The delighted giggle bubbles out of me and I silence it with a hand over my lips, facing the other men. “Thank you so much.”

“Well, we haven’t fixed it yet.” Walking up beside Rob, Tim wipes the grease off his hands on the back of Rob’s shirt and grins, flicking his brows when he receives an annoyed look from the other man. Facing me, he assures, “But I think we can have it running for you this weekend.”

Unable to stop myself, I turn, throwing my arms around Rob’s neck in a long, tight hug.

*Rob*

It was all I needed when the tiny, tantalizing space opened between Grace’s luscious lips as comprehension dawned in her too blue eyes. She understands that my friends can probably fix her tractor, and I feel pretty awesome to have solved her problem for her.

But when she throws her arms around my neck, so tightly that it’s hard to breathe, I’m dumbfounded.

I tense, then slowly fold my arms around her as I realize this might be the best feeling in the world. She’s so dainty my arms reach all the way to the opposite sides of her body, like I’m hugging myself and she isn’t even there. My body knows she is though. Pressed against me, Grace is so soft and she smells so good, I feel like I’m spinning.

The space where she’d been feels cold and empty when Grace pulls away. I listen as if through water as she thanks my friends again, tells them she’ll pay them for their time. My eyes linger on her retreating figure all the way into the house.

I’m abruptly snapped out of my trance-like state when several hard thumps land on my back.

“Ho-ho!” Cameron chuckles. “No wonder you’ve been hiding out here so much!”

“No! It’s not like that.” I gesture towards the house. “Now that it’s getting warm, there’s so much work to do,” I stammer.

Dan grabs me in a headlock, giving me a noogie. “We can all see what you’re working on, buddy.” Releasing me, Dan claps me on the back again. “Why didn’t you just say? Or were you afraid she’d fall for my charms?”

Cameron makes gagging sounds. Tim’s lip curls up in disgust.

“Your charms?” I roll my eyes, snorting. “You hold the record for ruining a date in the first four words.”

“Ah-ha! So you are dating?”

I cast a brief glance at the house, then down at the ground. “No.” I shake my head. “It’s not like that. I don’t have anything to offer a girl, least of all one like her.”

Dan claps a hand on my shoulder, turning me towards Grace’s tractor and my awaiting friends. “Clearly, my friend, that’s not the case.”

A thought pops into my head. “Did you guys tell me you machine parts at your shop?” I ask Tim and Cameron.

“Haven’t had a need, but we can,” Cameron replies, following as I stride purposefully past them into the rear of the barn.

Flipping the switch beside the door in the back, I enter, my friends following.

“What is this?” Cameron asks, running an appreciative hand over the wooden surface, recently sanded smooth. “It looks like a flat coffin.”

“A grand piano.” Opening the lid, I expose the left to right piano harp and broken strings. “I’m restoring it.”

“I’ve never seen a grand like this.” Beside Cameron, Tim runs his hands over the smooth-sanded fallboard, lifting it and pecking at a key. Inside, a hammer flips forward smoothly, returning silently to position without a string to strike.

“It’s a box grand. Not common anymore. This one’s a hundred twenty-five years old.” Opening the lid wider, I let my friends look about inside. “I found a local guy who’s guiding me restoring it. He can tune it for me if I get it working, but he doesn’t carry or make parts.”

“And why would you be restoring a musical instrument, Rob?” Dan leans inside the doorframe, ankles crossed and arms tucked over his chest, a knowing smile on his face.

Nodding, I concede, “It belonged to Grace’s grandmother. She taught Grace to play on it.” From inside the piano, I remove the warped, cracked metal plate, extending it to Cameron. “Can you make a replacement?”

Tim shrugs, eyeing it. “I don’t see why not. Especially if it’ll get you the girl.”

*Paul*

There’s one authorized repair and parts facility for the equipment I support and sell, and it’s in the southern portion of the state, not far from where I live. I’ve been standing at their parts counter for a half hour with a crowd of other private owners, awaiting my turn with the one parts clerk working. I need parts for a client two hours’ drive north.

Ella’s been texting me all morning about whether I’ll be home for the kids’ first swim meet this afternoon, and it’s only adding to my irritation. I’m replying when two new mid-twenty-somethings, grease-smudged, but otherwise not the typical farm types, stroll in.

“Hey, boss. Why are you working alone?” one asks.

The parts clerk’s head snaps up, and his eyes search the crowd of waiting people before lighting on the newcomers. His face splits in a grin. “Sal called in—his wife went into labor last night. What’re you two doing here?”

“Need a part for a Massey Ferguson and to use the CNC router to machine another,” the second guy replies as the two ease their way through the crowd, each taking a position at another computer behind the counter. A buzz of expectation ripples through the customers; hope that the cavalry has arrived to speed this process.

“You two bail me out here this afternoon, and you bet you can have both,” their boss replies unnecessarily; both the younger guys are already helping the next customers in line.

While the process looks to go faster than it was, there’s still no way with four hours’ worth of driving ahead of me that I’ll be making the kids’ swim meet. As I’m replying as much to Ella, in the background I hear the boss ask what the machined part the guys need is for.

“A strange old piano,” one replies, searching the computer for the parts his customer needs.

Returning from the stock shelves with a part for another customer, the second adds, “Buddy of ours works for a woman, Grace. Both the tractor and piano are hers.”

“Ahhh,” the boss says knowingly. “This buddy wouldn’t happen to like Grace, would he?”

“Oh, yeah. I don’t know how anyone couldn’t,” one twenty-something chuckles. “She’s phenomenally hot.”

“Legendary. Launch-a-thousand-ships hot,” the other adds. “The poor guy needs all the help he can get.”

It’s all I need to hear. Eighty years ago, ‘Grace’ might have been a common woman’s name, but it’s not now. And one with a ‘strange old piano’ and needing a tractor part, that’s too much coincidence. I backspace my reply to Ella and ask instead: Is Grace’s tractor down?

I’m expecting a snarky response, since that’s all I get lately. Instead, Ella sends: Yes, temporarily. How did you know?

The grapevine.

*Grace*

Rob’s friends swoop in for the rescue first thing Saturday morning. Like piranhas, they wipe out what’s left of breakfast and the coffee before heading outside. I check on them throughout the morning; though it’s only mid-May, it’s already hot before noon, and I don’t need them dehydrating or getting sunburned.

The way they work together gives me an appreciation for their friendship and the Army’s training. They’re efficient and thorough, laughing as they poke fun and tease each other ruthlessly, like some of the boys I’ve had in classes when I was teaching. I guess there’re some things they never grow out of.

The four of them are sitting on the floor in the shade of the barn when I bring out a hearty lunch and more lemonade and water to drink. Alarmingly, they’re leaning against the barn walls because my tractor is strewn in pieces all over everywhere else. But they seem calm and in good spirits, so I try not to panic.

They’re shirtless too, and I have to give the Army props. They definitely make men out of boys, and I realize it’s only the respect that’s been instilled in them that keeps me from hearing a lot more stories about them ‘getting lucky’ on Three Fools nights.

I flee in embarrassment when Dan catches me staring at Rob. That’s when I realize, they’ve been working on two projects—my tractor and the farmhouse roof. The old shingles are completely removed and they’ve hauled up the roofing felt and started moving the new shingles up just in the few hours they’ve been working this morning.

There’s no describing the wave of gratefulness that washes over me. It’s enough to make me cry tears of joy.

Mid-afternoon, I hear the tractor, alive and roaring smoothly, and I can’t help but laugh when I step out on the veranda and watch them driving their victory lap in slow donuts out front of the barn. By the time they return to the kitchen, filthy, sweaty and tired in the early evening, all of the shingles are on the roof too.

I pass around glasses of ice water and lemonade, then point them upstairs to shower. “You stink. Go wash. I’m not taking you anywhere like that.”

They laugh and obey one at a time, returning a short time later, raring to go and dressed in fresh clothes from Rob’s closet.

The nearest bar is the one where Ella and I usually meet. The pizza there is good, and while it’s not Three Fools, there’s a satisfactory selection of beer on tap. There’s a brief debate between Rob and I on the way.

“You’re not buying,” Rob says, steering the most direct route to the bar, the others following behind in Dan’s car. “These guys eat and drink like monsters.”

“I’m aware. That’s why we’re going out—there’s nothing left in the kitchen,” I reply to Rob’s profile. “And I am buying. They may have helped you, but they’ve really helped me. It’s the least I can do and you need to let me do it.”

He glances my way and I can see he’s inclined to challenge me, but instead, he sighs and nods.

There’s a local band playing tonight, with a few couples dancing in the small space before the stage. There’s only one booth large enough to accommodate us all and we get it just before the crowd arrives, drawn by the band, which, for once, is pretty good.

They’ve already gone through a couple rounds by the time appetizers arrive, and I’m enjoying getting to know each of them. I knew Tim and Cameron attend State, and that Dan attends classes at St. Mary’s with Rob, but it’s new news that these two also attended the same high school, enlisted together, and were stationed together all eight years.

There’s a rowdy discussion about Tim’s crush on the pink-haired waitress at Three Fools as we order pizza, and to take the heat off himself, Tim brings up Dan’s dating history with enticing hints about a record for ruining a date. Immediately, Dan seeks to clarify, sliding closer to me in the booth for privacy that obviously won’t be granted.

*Dan*

I’m not particularly observant, with a single qualifier: it irks me to no end that Rob, who’s ridiculously picky about the girls he dates, wallows in female attention. Granted, he’s a great guy—the best of the four of us really. But come on, how’re you supposed to know you’ve met the ‘right’ girl, if you never date?

I had an inkling that he was keeping something when he mentioned a gift for Grace at Christmas. So when he asked Tim and Cameron for help with her tractor, it was time to do more digging.

Not that it took much.

Grace.

Is.

Spectacular.

And not just her looks. She’s sweet and generous, even if she’s kind of hard to read. A lot like Rob in a female body. I understood why he’s been cautious pursuing her. Until lunch time when I caught her drooling over him. She’s clearly victim of his charms, and I have no clue what he’s waiting for.

In the interest of helping him, I sacrifice myself—well, I started by sacrificing Tim. But I’ve already admitted Rob’s the saint, not me. Now I’m sitting next to Grace at this little bar, dropping big hints and reliving—in public— the embarrassment of my dating career.

“I, like Rob here, am currently single.” I reach behind Grace to clap a hand on Rob’s shoulder. “I was dating a girl about a year ago, but she dumped me.”

“That doesn’t count,” my friends roar with laughter.

“Sure it does,” I insist, facing Grace. Under my breath I say, “We have this argument every time I bring her up.”

Grace waits politely, smiling, as I polish off my beer before beginning my tale. “So I met this girl at Three Fools one night. We had a class together, right? But we’d never spoken.”

It’s all I can do not to laugh at the eye rolling and sarcastic nodding that Tim and Cameron are doing in my periphery. Though we’re brutal to each other, we really are good friends.

“But that night, we hit it off. Things went great and she invited me back to her place.” As another round is delivered, I pause, notice Grace directing Rob’s attention to a couple taking the only seats left at the bar, and overhear her mention ‘sister’.

“Going back to her place is a one-night stand, you douche.” Tim inserts, drawing us back into the conversation.

“I’m not done,” I argue, turning to Grace to continue, undaunted, when our waitress leaves. “We talked and sat together during class all week and were getting along great, so I asked her out the next weekend.”

“So he thinks,” Cameron interrupts, and Grace giggles.

“Shut up, man. Let me tell the story to an objective party,” I laugh. “At some point, she’d mentioned her favorite candy was Skittles, and I wanted to keep the ball rolling, so I picked up a box for our date.”

On the opposite side of Grace, Rob leans in conspiratorially, a dimpled smirk on his face and, making air quotes, says in his smooth tenor, right in her ear, “Keep the ball rolling.”

Grace giggles again and just like that, Rob’s stolen my thunder. I’m buzzing already though I’ve eaten a bit, but even I can see she adores him.

“Ignore him.” I wave Rob’s remark away. “Anyway, when she walked into the restaurant, she seemed happy to see me until I told her ‘I brought you something’. When I handed her the candy, she told me I was moving too fast and broke it off. Wouldn’t return my calls. She even changed sections so we weren’t in the same class anymore.”

We get loud again with laughter and more teasing. It draws Grace’s sister’s attention, and a moment later she slides into the booth on Rob’s other side.

“Oh! Firm,” she remarks in a flirty purr, giving him a hug around the shoulders. “Good to see you again, Rob.” She extends her hand around the table to Tim, Cameron and me, introducing herself. “I’m Ella—Grace’s sister.”

Ella isn’t the ethereal beauty Grace is, but she’s cute, with wide brown eyes and an adorable spattering of golden freckles over her nose. Also unlike Grace, Ella is bouncy and energetic, and I’m feeling it looking at her.

Pointing across the bar to the man she came in with, Ella says, “That’s my husband.”

Hope crushed.

To Grace I whisper, “Let me out a minute,” and Ella, Rob and she slide out. As Ella slides back in next to Grace, I have a brief, whispered debate with Rob. “Ask her to dance.”

“What?” Rob directs an ear toward me.

“Ask Grace to dance!”

“Why would I do that? I suck at dancing.”

“Just do it.”

As I return from the men’s room, the adorable Ella heads back to the bar and the lucky lout she’s married to.

*Grace*

A couple pointed looks between Dan and Rob pass over me. I’m recounting the conversation tonight, trying to figure out what I might’ve said or done that merits them, when Rob leans close to my ear.

“Would you like to dance, Grace?”

I pause, listening to the quick upbeat song the band is playing. “I’m not a particularly good dancer, even when I’m sober.”

Beside me, Rob flashes that drop-dead gorgeous smile. “Neither am I, but I bet we can get through a two-step.” Sliding out of the booth, he offers me his hand.

Behind us, our raucous table is remarkably subdued as Rob leads me to the dancefloor. I’m still a bit worried about even a two-step, but by the time we get there and Rob pulls me into a closed dance position, the song has ended.

I’m just hoping the next song has a slower tempo when it begins, then shake my head at the irony. It’s a slow dance. Be careful what you wish for, I think as the music swells and Rob leads.

I can feel his eyes on my face as we make the first turn on the dancefloor and I look up. I know there are other couples swaying around us here and it’s loud, but everything but him is just gone in the instant we make eye contact. The beauty of his eyes and the warmth from the smile that touches their corners creates a powerful intimacy without a single word.

My hand relaxes into his, my body syncs to his and we flow together like we’re made of air. Each forward step of his slides neatly between my feet, gently pressing his hips into mine. There’s a tender sensuality to it, and I feel closer to him than I ever have before. It’s like all the best parts of all the best days we’ve hung out together coalesce into four and a half minutes. Towards the end, I realize my heart’s sped up and it’s not from the exertion.

I’m in love with Rob, and I have been for quite some time.

*Rob*

Dan put me up to asking Grace to dance. I’m nervous when I ask her, since it’s outside my wheelhouse. It’s strangely calming though, when she admits the same thing, and my courage soars when she puts her hand in mine and lets me lead her to the floor.

Grace is still nervous as I tuck her against me, and stares at my chest for a few beats. I don’t mind. There isn’t an angle where she doesn’t look exquisite. Looking down at her looking down is a new one though, and I’m staring, captivated by the long shadows of her eyelashes that even this low light makes. That’s when she looks up.

This isn’t just low light. It’s the perfect light. The kind that makes her look luminous, makes her lips a brandy wine shade and turns her eyes the same deep purple blue they were when I drove her home from Three Fools.

That moment replays in my head as I gaze at her. The one where she wanted me. The one where she said she chooses me. I push pause on my memory, and that haunting past merges with this glorious present with the singular color of her eyes.

That’s when I realize it’s still there—that same desire. That her drunk words are Grace’s sober thoughts and feelings.

In some tiny corner of my brain, a voice demands, kiss her! But I won’t. It’s too coarse—too corrupt—for this perfect four and a half minutes in time. This dance where there’s no denying I’m in love with her.

*Ella*

“Look!” Breathless with excitement, I tap Paul’s arm, directing his attention to Grace and Rob on the dance floor. “I’m so happy for her!” I squeal. There’s no missing the attraction between the two, and I’m not sure what I’m expecting from Paul, but it isn’t the rage I see on his face.

“It’s embarrassing. She’s taken in and getting taken by a freeloader. I wish you’d cut ties with her.”

My head snaps around at his words. Incredulous, I stare at him. “Rob isn’t a freeloader. He’s working on things at the farm for her. He’s there for her. Not that you’d know. You barely spend time with your family anymore, let alone me.”

Shoving my drink away, I rise. “And cut ties with my sister? Why would I do that, Paul? She’s available more than you are.” I snap my fingers towards the bartender. “Close out our tab, please.”

Turning, I cast one more withering glare at Paul, then deliberately stomp over to Grace as she returns to her table with Rob. “Gracie, we’re going.” I throw my arms around her, hugging my sister tightly. “Take every bit of happiness Rob wants to give you, Grace,” I urge in a parting whisper.

*Rob*

On the other side of me, Dan whispers in my ear the conversation he overheard between Ella and her husband at the bar when he picked up shots while Grace and I were dancing.

“Seriously?” I ask, disgusted when Dan nods. Before I can pursue it, my attention’s shifted abruptly when Ella’s hand closes over mine on the table.

Grace’s sister smiles at me brightly. “It’s good to see you again, Rob. You take such good care of Gracie. I’m so glad you’re there for her.” Nodding to the rest of the table, Ella takes her leave.

My eyes follow speculatively as Grace’s sister heads for the door. There’s tension between Ella and her husband. Though Paul holds the door for her as Ella exits, there’s no missing the blatant ogling he gives another woman still at the bar before following his wife outside.

When a glance at Dan earns me a raised brow and a knowing look, I nod. “You’re right. I’m not surprised though.”

A cheer goes up as our pizza’s delivered, bringing both my and Dan’s attention back to the table. The huge metal pan of steaming food is set on a raised stand in the center so plates can rest beneath.

“Can we get another round, please?” Grace asks in reply to the server’s question if we need anything else. Receiving a nod, she turns back to the table.