Cotton Grass Lodge by DeNise Woodbury

Nell and Harry, but there’s a fine line between rustic and run-down. Whenever I asked if I could help, Nell would go into overdrive about how the clients had to take what they got.”
    “Thanks for the compliment.” Duncan warmed with gratitude. He had worked hard, and it was nice someone noticed. Especially nice when Hanna noticed. “Would you stay for supper?” He glanced at his watch—ten o’clock. He laughed. “A late supper.”
    “No.” Hanna gave a wan smile. “It’s been a long day for me, too. I have to go. I’ll check my shed. I think I have just enough eight-inch pipe for your stove. Instead of paying me, you can just replace what I give you.”
    “Oh, thanks but you don’t have to—”
    Hanna held up her hand. “Stop. That’s the way it works. Now, say thank you and leave it.”
    Duncan sputtered and Hanna held her hand up again and smiled.
    “Uhh, thank you,” he said, another lesson learned.
    ****
    Late the next morning, Hanna met Duncan at the lodge with the eight inch black stove pipe. “I slept in,” she said. It didn’t happen often, but guilty pleasure elicited a little embarrassment. “Do you need anything from town? I have to make a quick run over to Willow. This is sort of a working weekend off.”
    “I can’t think of anything except…” Duncan thought for a moment. “The fabric came for the kitchen doors, but I’m no seamstress. Do you know if someone up here has a sewing machine?”
    Hanna heard his earnest question. He didn’t use an ounce of manipulation. Nice. “I think Edna has a machine we could borrow,” she said. “Of course you could broadcast tomorrow morning on the news to find someone else.”
    “The news?” Duncan tilted his head just slightly and she found it quite charming.
    “Haven’t you noticed about ten o’clock every morning on the C.B. there’s a flurry of chatter?”
    “On channel twelve, right?”
    “The news.” Hanna drew her mouth into a line. He had so much to learn. “June is coming, monitor daily and you’ll be happier for it. Gotta go fly, see you tomorrow.”
    After lunch the next day, Hanna brought her tiny hand operated sewing machine. She hemmed the yards and yards of blue and white checked fabric Duncan had purchased to replace the curtains and cabinet covers in the kitchen.
    Duncan joined her late in the afternoon. “Thank you so much for doing this,” he said.
    “You’re welcome. Besides, you may be a good cook, and I’m going to expect dinner out of this deal. Here, hold this.” She stood up from the table and handed the end of a wide swath of fabric to him.
    Together they worked for another hour hanging curtains and threading fabric on the springy hangers over the cabinets.
    They laughed through a large serving of fettuccini alfredo and ended the evening watching the bon-fire and discussing politics.
    Duncan found her to be a challenging and charming woman. Challenging and charming weren’t all the things he found to like about her, either.
    As they sat enjoying the evening, a plane flew over and waggled its wings. Hanna waved back from her seat.
    “Do you know everyone flying over this lake?” Duncan asked.
    “Heavens, no.” Her laugh, robust and genuine made another inroad into his surprised pleasure in her company. “I’m just being polite.”
    “Would you like another glass of ice tea?” he said.
    “Thanks, but I’m floating now. I’ve got to get back. Early flight for me.” She stood and brushed the seat of her jeans. “If you think of anything make sure it’s at the plane before I leave at six.”
    “So early?”
    “It’s daylight. No rest for the wicked.” She smiled and swatted mosquitos. “I’ll leave the four-wheeler at the strip.”
    “Okay, my hard-liner friend. I expect a rematch of this debate when you return.”
    “You sure you can handle the pressure you bleeding-heart liberal?”
    “Ha-I’ll be prepared next time.” Duncan was sorry to see her go.

Chapter 9
    A woman’s