Hometown Courtship. Diann Hunt

      Heather placed a hand on Callie’s shoulder. “Look, I know this is tough for you and you’re worried about the salon, but it will be over soon and you can get back to business. Hopefully, you’ll learn how to get a bit more organized in the process.”

      “So, I really have to build a house?”

      Heather chuckled. “Well, not single-handedly.”

      Callie could practically smell the sawdust, and for a moment, she was ten years old, staring up at her dad. He took off his tool belt and hard hat and laid them on the kitchen table. Pulling her into his arms, he said, “I’ll always love you, Beanie.” He brushed away a tear from his face, gave her one last squeeze and walked out the door. Callie flung herself at him, crying, grabbing at the door to get to him while her aunt and uncle held her back, embracing her until she’d shed every last tear.

      “Hey, you all right?”

      Callie’s eyes refocused on Heather’s concerned expression. Now was not the time to revisit her father’s leaving after her mom died—she had to get out of this situation. “Will I have to wear a tool belt? Please say no. I just couldn’t live with myself.”

      Heather stared at her a little too long and finally said, “You make me crazy, you know that? I gotta go.” Her heels clacked across the shiny tiled floor as she went to the courthouse doors.

      “What if I toss the handbag?” It was a last-ditch effort that Heather ignored as she disappeared through the door, but Callie figured it couldn’t hurt to try.

      She hated letting her aunt down this way. Thirty years old and still irresponsible. And building a house was exactly what she didn’t need. Old memories were better left buried.

      “It’s your fault,” she growled at the handbag. Shrugging it into place on her shoulder, Callie shoved through the courthouse doors and swept down the steps toward her car. She could think of better ways to start the weekend.

      “This car belong to you?” Another man in a blue uniform. Were they stalking her or what?

      Callie stopped in front of her car, and with one glance at the empty meter, considered telling a fib. Her up-bringing wouldn’t allow it. “Yes.”

      He ripped a ticket from his thick, neat little pad. “Looks like this belongs to you, too.” He smiled, tipped his hat and walked away.

      If she could put her parking tickets in an organized pad like that, she wouldn’t even be at the courthouse. Grumbling, she climbed inside her car, then crammed her ticket deep into her handbag. She’d deal with that later.

      

      “I can’t believe you’re doing this to me again.” Brad Sharp walked off the concrete foundation, away from listening ears. He growled into the phone, “Listen, Ryan, you remember what a disaster the last community servant was for the Make a Home project? She went through every nail in the county before we could finish the framing. And then there was the other one. She was a honey. Decided to hijack the Bobcat and splintered our framing wood into a thousand pieces.” His voice rose with anger. “I can’t afford your community servants, bro.”

      Ryan wasn’t ruffled in the least. “So we’ve had a few clunkers. It’s a worthy cause. And you’re into worthy causes, after all.”

      Brad could hear the teasing in Ryan’s voice and it irritated him. “Isn’t this called abusing your position of power?” His work boots stomped over mounds of clumped dirt on the job site. Nails jostled in his tool belt. Behind him men unloaded lumber from the truck to prepare for framing. Workers called out to one another. Saws whirred, spitting flakes of dust into the spring air. He had a job to do and didn’t have time for this.

      “I don’t see it that way. Callie Easton needs to serve the community, and you are heading up a community project, building a brand new house for a Burrow family.” Pages turned. No doubt Ryan was scanning his next case while talking. “Besides, this is a win-win situation.”

      “Oh, sure. Dump a perp on me and you can strike your gavel without another thought. What did she do, anyway?”

      “She didn’t pay her parking tickets.”

      Brad stopped in his tracks. “You’re kidding.”

      “Would I kid about the law?”

      “And I’ll bet she’s single and in her early thirties, am I right?”

      Silence.

      Brad groaned. “Come on, Ryan. This isn’t about justice. This is about you wanting me to settle down. Why is it you married men aren’t happy unless you take all your single buddies down with you?”

      “Hey, marriage is a great institution. Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”

      “Look, I’m glad for you and Brianna, but it’s not for me. You know that. I don’t need a wife to tie me down.”

      “Au contraire, little brother. I think that’s exactly what you need. Find a good woman, settle down in Burrow.”

      “Don’t start, Ryan. I’m not like you. I don’t want to stay here forever. A woman won’t change that.”

      It was true that Ryan was a big-name judge and Brad was merely a carpenter, but that didn’t give Ryan the right to plan out Brad’s life for him. The last thing he would ever do was get involved with a woman his brother had chosen for him.

      “Why are you always so closed to everything I say?”

      “You never hear me. I’ve told you a million times I want to keep working abroad, not stay holed up in Burrow, Ohio. I’m only here until I get my next assignment in South America.”

      “I can think of worse things.” Ryan’s voice had an edge to it this time.

      “I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. It’s just a bad thing for me. I’m wired differently than you. Why can’t you accept that?”

      Ryan sighed. “I’m sorry I upset you, Brad. We’ll talk later. Callie starts Monday.”

      The line went dead and Brad snapped his cell phone shut. “Great, that’s just great.”

      He knew his brother meant well, but Brad wished that just once Ryan would let him run his own life.

      

      Monday morning came much too soon. Callie was thankful at least that Jessica Moore had agreed to work full-time at the salon until Callie was through “serving time.” Jessica was the other stylist at the salon. As a rule, Jessica worked part-time so she could take some classes and care for her mom, who had been through a major surgery. But her mom was getting better and her classes were coming to an end, so Jessica offered to help Callie out.

      Thunder boomed across the morning sky, causing Callie’s red VW to tremble slightly. She peered through her rain-pelted car window. “Oh, this is just perfect.”

      With a grunt she reached for her red-and-white polka-dotted umbrella, slammed the door of her car and ran into the Peaches & Cream Bakery.

      Though she was running late, of course, she wasn’t about to give up her coffee and peach scone. It had nothing to do with her aunt and uncle owning the place. The bakery was known across the county for its delicious peach pastries—hence, the name. It could be a bit confusing to tourists—they owned the Peaches & Cream Bakery, the Peaches & Cream Salon and the Peaches & Cream Ice Cream Parlor.

      Stopping for coffee and a peach scone was a breakfast routine that Callie couldn’t do without. Closing her umbrella, she shook off the excess droplets and headed for the counter. Where had she gone wrong this morning? When the alarm had gone off, she had gotten up right away—well, she’d only hit Snooze twice.

      The tune of “Don’t Worry, Be Happy” came from her cell phone. She rifled through her bag. If only she could remember to stick her phone in that special compartment in her handbag, the one specifically