A Town Called Valentine(80)

“You, too.” She gestured to the box. “Can I help you with something?”

He gave Monica an apologetic glance. “Emily and I discussed selling my work on consignment, and I wondered if you’d mind if we continued?”

“No problem,” Monica said. “I’ve got an arrangement to work on. Thanks for your business, Josh. Em, I can answer any questions later.” Then she disappeared into the workroom.

Emily smiled. “You might regret wanting to work with me. I’m pretty new at all this.”

“I thought it was only fair to show you my work since you were the one who persuaded me to give it a try.”

“I didn’t drag you in off the street—that was your idea. But let’s stop praising each other and see what you’ve got.”

He opened the box, and one by one set his work on the counter.

She gasped at the leather-framed mirror, intricately tooled with a Western desert sunset. “Oh, Josh, you’re so talented!”

He didn’t say anything, only brought out several frames tooled with mountain cowboy life, as well as leather journals and wallets done in flowers and vines, and belts with stamped geometric patterns. Lastly, he showed her two purses, one covered in daisies with a long strap, and the other a clutch with a swirling pattern. “These last two are what I’ve been working on since you mentioned them.”

“That quickly?” she said in surprise.

“I already had the leather. Just had to cut it out and begin work. I looked through Brooke’s closet for ideas in regard to size, then did some research on the Internet. Do you think these will sell?”

The stitching was done in leather to look Western, but it was meticulous and snug. The inside was well lined. “Josh, these are so unique. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised how well they’ll sell. We’ll have to talk about the price you should ask for. Your Internet research will probably come in handy there. But first—how the heck do you have time to do this? It seems ranch life is twenty-four hours a day. Do you have any kind of social life at all?”

He shrugged and seemed to redden a bit as he stared out the window. “I like to keep busy. There’s something about this work that just . . . calls to me. And the family knows and respects the time I give myself.”

She found herself wishing she could ask Nate about Josh’s talent but didn’t know if that was going too far. She was consulting him about her most personal problems, but she shouldn’t want the same from him.

“Emily, you have another visitor,” Monica called from the showroom.

Again? Emily put aside her pen after recording the last of Josh’s crafts as she sorted through them. It couldn’t be Nate, when they would be seeing each other that afternoon. She walked into the showroom and saw a short middle-aged woman with black hair framing her face. She held a cane in one hand, and her eyes fastened on Emily with interest.

Emily glanced at Monica, who grinned, and said, “Emily, this is Sandy Thalberg.”

Nate’s mother. Curious and excited at the same time, Emily put out a hand, but to her surprise, Mrs. Thalberg gave her a big hug. Flustered, but pleased, Emily laughed. “Mrs. Thalberg, it’s so wonderful to meet you. I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to meet when I delivered arrangements yesterday.”

“I was disappointed, too,” Mrs. Thalberg said, studying Emily with friendly eyes. “Please call me Sandy. Otherwise, I won’t know if you’re talking about me or my mother-in-law. She and Brooke always speak of you fondly, as do my boys.”

Emily highly doubted that Nate and Josh said much about her at all, but she didn’t bring that up. “Your whole family has been so welcoming. And I wouldn’t have had a clue about my building renovations without Nate’s help. Please, have a seat,” she added, gesturing to the wrought-iron chair near her pastry display.

“You’ve got to try Emily’s croissants,” Monica gushed.

“My mother-in-law raves about your baking,” Sandy said, taking a seat and accepting the croissant Monica handed her on a napkin. Sandy took a big bite, then hummed her approval.

Emily knew she was probably blushing.

“Oh, Emily, my family was right about your cooking,” Sandy said, even as she licked a crumb from her lip. “I’ve come here to ask you to Sunday dinner, but after eating this, I’m worried my cooking will pale in comparison.”

Emily saw Monica give her a wide-eyed glance, and inside, she felt a little thrill of her own, followed quickly by concern for Nate’s reaction. “Mrs. Thal—Sandy, you’re too nice.”