Wishes at Willow Lake by Mary Manners Page B

had her smacking her lips. “Ahh…this coffee is the best in Willow Lake—in all of East Tennessee. And, you offer the largest selection of books and up-to-date periodicals. But you’re bursting at the seams here. You need something more—fast.”
    “I can’t stand the thought of Stewart Simms—or anyone related to Larder—getting their hands on my shop. I’ve worked too hard—sacrificed too much. But, to ask Mason…I never imagined.” Josie’s pulse jolted as she reached for another copy of Homes Today . She drank in Mason’s dark-chocolate eyes and the slight, lopsided grin that had made her pulse race on more than one occasion when he’d walked her way during their high school years. “He hasn’t changed a bit…”
    “At least on the outside. But I think you have your answer.” Ali drained her cup, took Rory back, and motioned to the phone in Josie’s hand. “There’s only one way to find out. I saw a number listed in the footnote of that article. Maybe he’s available…in more ways than one.”
     
    ****
     
    Mason Donovan tossed his carpenter’s pencil on the cluttered drafting table and sat back in the rolling chair, covering his face with his hands. “This new client is impossible.”
    “His requests are a bit strange, but with a little tweaking, I know we can make them work.” Julian Penland, Mason’s assistant, crossed the room to glance at the plans Mason was working on. He stopped short, scratched his blond head and grimaced. “Or…not.”
    “Not in this decade.” Mason reached for a foam cup, gagged when a hit of cold, bitter-black sludge that passed for coffee ran down his throat. “Ugh. Don’t tell me we forgot to buy creamer again.”
    “ You forgot to buy the creamer.” Julian took the cup, filled it with fresh brew from a carafe on the bookshelf and handed it back to Mason. “You’ve been moving too fast, for too long, Mace. You need a break before you break.”
    “I don’t have time for a break.”
    “You won’t have a choice if you end up stroking out.”
    Mason sipped, sighed, and rubbed the scruff of beard across his jaw. He’d forgotten to shave— again . “Well, Jules, I’m going to let this project simmer for a while.” Mason sipped again, hoping for a different result, and coughed as the acidic flavor burned down his throat. His gaze drifted to the street beyond his office window where a morning rush-hour crowd scurried like ants on an apple pie. An overcast sky hung low, blanketing the pavement in a grayish chill that was sure to dump a deluge of rain before the lunch hour kicked into full gear. Mason sighed. What he wouldn’t give for just one good snowfall. The thought took him back to Willow Lake and its plethora of sloped hills that were perfect for sledding. How many hours had he spent racing Ryder, Hunter, and Brody on the off days that school was canceled? And the snowball wars…
    “What would you like me to do?” Jules studied him with a gaze that pierced.
    “Get on the phone and tell O’Leary I’ll get back with him in a few weeks. Then run out and buy some creamer—and a stash of decent coffee. The least this office can have is some palatable java.”
    Jules ignored the latter comments. “Mr. O’Leary’s leaving the states for a cruise—a world cruise—in just a few days.” He settled into a chair across from Mason and twined his fingers, propping them beneath his bearded chin. “He’ll be gone a full three months.”
    “Perfect. Delay this project if you can. Tell him I’ll meet with him when he returns. Maybe by then we can find a way—a legal and practical way—around his outrageous requests.”
    “Whatever you say, boss. I’ll get on the horn to him right away.”
    “Thanks.” Mason scratched his head as his gaze settled on the most recent edition of Homes Today magazine, which Jules had framed and hung on Mason’s office wall. Since the feature article had debuted, every yahoo on the East Coast had come out of