Husband Under Construction by Karen Templeton

night, aren’tcha?
    Even so—and here was the weird part—she didn’t doubt his sincerity for a second. Call it intuition, call it her reaction to that whole mess with Eden—whatever. But the man now walking beside her was not the same person who’d shown up to give the estimate a couple of weeks ago. Despite his balled up, backhanded explanation, Roxie really did believe he wanted to change.
    And she could use a friend right now.
    They’d reached the lousy sidewalk at the bottom of the stairs. Across the street, the light from Noah’s folks’ TV screen eerily pulsed through the drawn family room drapes, sending another wave of envy pulsing through her.
    What was wrong with her tonight?
    Hunching against the wind, she made a left turn down the road that eventually led to what passed as the center of town.
    â€œChristmas lights’ll be up soon,” Noah observed as they walked, contentment evident in his voice. A hodgepodge of three centuries’ worth of architectural styles plunked down along a series of twisting roads carved out of the mountain forest, Tierra Rosa was strictly a why-would-anyone-want-to-live-here? town…except for those who couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.
    â€œHave they changed any since we were in high school?”
    â€œNot a lot, no.” Then he chuckled. “Evangelista Ortega tried to put up icicle lights instead of luminarias a few years back. You wouldn’t’ve believed the stink. She never tried it again.”
    â€œThat’s actually kind of scary,” Roxie said, digging a knit hat out of her other pocket and ramming it over her curls, so aware of Noah’s solid presence beside her she nearly trembled with it. “Being that resistant to change.”
    â€œA lot of folks might take issue with you on that. Keeping traditions going…it’s comforting in a world that isn’t much inclined to be comfortable. And not to push you or anything, but if you want to talk, you might want to think about getting started before we both turn into Popsicles.”
    â€œWho says I want to talk?” Except, when Noah shrugged, she said, “Trouble is, I don’t know where to start.”
    â€œJust pick something and run with it. See where it takes you.”
    â€œTo hell, in all likelihood,” she muttered, then glanced at his shadowy profile. “Since I’m not real happy with myself right now.” She sighed, the earlier scene in Charley’s dining room replaying in her head. Ugh. “You sure you’re up for this? Could get whiny.”
    â€œI’ll take my chances. So why aren’t you happy with yourself?”
    She clamped shut her mouth. Noah nudged her with his elbow. “Go on.”
    â€œI…” She sucked in a breath. “Okay, I hate that I’m judging Eden on surface stuff. That I’m judging her at all. She can’t help who she is, and for all I know there’s a really good person under there.”
    â€œBut that’s not what your gut’s telling you, is it?”
    â€œYeah, well, my gut’s been wrong before. Except it’sjust… Charley has no idea what easy pickings he is right now. And you must think I’m crazy.”
    â€œNo, ma’am. I think you’re a good niece who has every right to be concerned.”
    She snorted. “Not sure Charley sees it that way.”
    â€œOf course he doesn’t. But that’s not the point, is it?”
    Roxie stole a glance at Noah’s profile. She’d forgotten what it was like to have somebody in her corner. How good it felt.
    How loath she was to trust it.
    Stuffing her hands in her pockets, she muttered, “To tell the truth, I’m not sure what the point is anymore.”
    â€œDoes Charley have anything worth picking, though? Besides the house? I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pry—”
    â€œNo, I know you don’t. You