Homespun Christmas. Aimee Thurlo

      Joshua smiled as Mabel brought him a large hazelnut coffee topped with whipped cream and hazelnut sprinkles. As he stood to say hello, she gave him a big hug, welcoming him back to town.

      Still standing, he took a sip of his coffee and sighed happily. “Mabel, you’ve outdone yourself. This is incredible.”

      “Coming from a well-traveled city boy, that’s quite a compliment,” she said, then with a mischievous smile, she added, “or was it that you didn’t expect the old lady’s coffee to be as good as you remembered?”

      He laughed. “No way. You’re still the standard.”

      Mabel, a tall, stately looking sixty-year-old, beamed. “Good answer. That might earn you a second cup at half price. Now take your seat again and enjoy.”

      As she walked off, Myka smiled. “Mabel’s something else, isn’t she? Did I ever tell you that a Seattle coffee chain wanted to buy the secret to her special blend, but she turned them down? She said she liked offering the people of Independence something that would always say ‘home’ to them.”

      As Josh looked around he saw the chairs were starting to fill up. “I’m glad to see she still does a steady business. I can’t imagine Independence without Mabel’s.”

      “I’m hoping that eventually Betty will cut a deal and serve Mabel’s coffee over there. Her own...” She cringed. “Motor oil would probably taste better. Just don’t tell her I said so.”

      He laughed. “So is that what it takes to be a silent partner?”

      She shrugged. “I’ve got my hands full processing wool, selling my yarn and managing my online store. Betty needed something positive to focus on, too, besides her daughter, and that’s where the Blue Spruce comes in.” She paused, then added, “Will uses his welding in much the same way.”

      “Being the Independence police chief isn’t enough for him?”

      Myka took a moment before answering, measuring her words carefully. She wanted Joshua to understand, but she didn’t want to violate any confidences. “Will knows better than most what’s happening around here. He was a cop in Albuquerque for four years, then returned home after Sheriff Mercer died because he felt needed here. He wants to spend the rest of his life in Independence, but things have continued changing, and not for the better. Now, we’ve got a part-time mayor, and the town can only support a three-officer police department, which includes one volunteer.”

      “There used to be a dozen officers—plus IVA security,” Joshua recalled. “Who’s the backup now?”

      “Will. He’s on call full-time and he gave up a pay increase to keep at least one officer active 24/7. When we lost our fire marshal, he took on that job, too, pro bono, so everyone’s insurance rates wouldn’t skyrocket. He works ten or twelve hours a day, sometimes more,” she added.

      “I didn’t know that.”

      “Few people do. Will’s stretched pretty thin, and he’s doing his best to protect what’s left of the community. He’s on edge, so go easy on him.”

      He nodded slowly. “You have nothing to worry about. The kid you knew who got into fights at the drop of a hat finally grew up. That’s not who I am anymore.”

      “Good.” She finished the last of her coffee. “Now let’s go to the Blue Spruce and see what Betty has in mind for the inn.”

      CHAPTER FOUR

      AS THEY STEPPED onto the sidewalk, Myka and Josh immediately felt the pleasant warmth of the sun rising off the asphalt. This was Main Street, downtown Independence, the oldest part of the community. There were about twenty shops lining the narrow street, which had been laid out when cars and horse-drawn wagons competed for space. It was easy to imagine what the town had looked like a hundred years ago.

      Almost all of the multistoried buildings were made of brick and stone and had their roots in the mining boom of the early 1900s. They’d been upgraded many times, and during prosperous years the businesses here had flourished.

      Farther down the street were single-story, flat-roofed adobe structures. Those had been built in the Southwest style associated with the Pueblo tribes and early Spanish influence. But the adobe buildings were in the worst shape, since regular maintenance was costly.

      Myka stopped in front of the inn and took a moment to admire the red roses etched on the glass transom above the entrance. They spoke of the grandeur and elegance of days gone by and stood in stark contrast to the chipped mortar and flaking paint which exposed the wood trim.

      Joshua opened the door and gestured for Myka to precede him. The Blue Spruce was in transition. Metal scrapers and a steamer that would eventually take off the old wallpaper were resting on the floor where sections of the baseboard had already been removed.

      Among all the chaos one thing stood out—the wonderful scent of fresh baking. “Betty, did you make your special honey bread?” Myka called out.

      “Yep, I sure did.” Betty stepped out from an alcove, then waved them over. A heavy wooden dining table with coordinating chairs faced glass doors leading into a courtyard full of big leafed plants and small wooden tables. “I want to entice you guys to stay, and I didn’t think the torn up foyer with peeling wallpaper would do it. So come on. Let’s have breakfast here in the garden alcove and then we’ll get to work.”

      Betty wheeled in a serving cart with glasses of freshly squeezed orange juice, thick slices of homemade bread, butter and jelly and plates filled with scrambled eggs cooked with a touch of New Mexico green chile.

      The meal was delicious and they took their time, discussing the various possibilities for the dining room and Betty’s decorating ideas.

      Twenty minutes later, after helping Betty clear the table, Joshua thanked her. “I can be bribed like this anytime, Betty!”

      “Ready to get to work, then?”

      “You bet. Why don’t you tell me what you envision for the inn as a whole? Start with the big changes you’d like made, then add the details as you think of them.”

      “When the Blue Spruce was built, the rooms were small, to squeeze in as many guests as possible. I want to knock down some walls to create several larger spaces that flow into each other and are family friendly. That’s why I’d like to tear out a large portion of those two walls, for starters,” she said, pointing to the dining area. “In their place, I’d like archways that provide a better view of the courtyard and welcome the guests to wander about.”

      “Okay,” he said, then took a closer look at the rooms and ceiling above, inspecting the position of joints, adjoining rooms and doorways. “From what I can see here, you’d be taking out a big section of this load-bearing wall. There are ways to do that safely by creating supporting structures, but we need to check the blueprints. Do you have them?”

      “No, those were filed with County and lost decades ago in a fire.”

      “Using imaging tools, we can look inside the walls without resorting to major work, but it might be necessary to cut a few holes to check out the condition of the existing framework. For now, let’s talk some more about the kind of renovation you want to do here,” Joshua said.

      Betty took them around the front rooms, explaining her plans. “I want the place to have a homey, Southwest cowboy feel. Forget the upper-class drawing room that we have now. Open space with plenty of light is a must.”

      “I can tell that parts of this building were added on, and that complicates things,” Joshua said.

      They heard footsteps, and Will appeared from around the corner. “You trying to talk up the price?” His voice boomed in the small room.

      Joshua turned around, and to Myka’s surprise, didn’t react. “I’m just here to offer free professional advice.”

      Will’s eyebrows