LITMIR.BIZ

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even have a minister,” Marcus countered.

      “Because we don’t have a church,” Porter said.

      Marcus arched an eyebrow. “Are you planning to walk down the aisle soon?”

      Porter blanched. “N-no. Nikki and I haven’t…gotten…that far.”

      Kendall bit back a smile at his little brother’s sudden nervousness. He had no doubt Porter was head over heels for the doctor, but everyone—including Porter—had assumed he’d be a bachelor forever. He was still easing into the idea of being half of a couple.

      “For now then,” Marcus said pointedly, “we can continue to hold services in the dining hall or in the great room of the boardinghouse. I think we need to shift our focus to rebuilding Evermore Bridge over Timber Creek.” Marcus walked over to an aerial map and pointed to a large green section of land.

      “This land is within the city limits, but it’s cut off from everything else. I think we should relocate the recycling center we’re planning to build to this parcel, away from town because of potential noise levels. A new bridge will make this farmland accessible for other projects, too. I received a proposal this week from a scientist who’s looking into new uses for kudzu.”

      Porter snorted. “That vile weed has a use?”

      The Japanese vine had been introduced to the state of Georgia as ground cover along the inter-states, but had taken on a life of its own, spreading via seed and runners, consuming anything that didn’t move. Virulent and aggressive, kudzu was widely considered a nuisance.

      “This man thinks it produces a chemical that can treat Alzheimer’s.”

      Kendall wiped his hand over his mouth. There were some moments when the brothers couldn’t believe the ramifications of this undertaking—this green experiment was so much bigger than just rebuilding their mountain hometown. “What is he asking for?”

      “He has his own grant for a laboratory and staff. He’s asking for a half-acre of land for his lab, and twenty-five acres of kudzu.”

      “Hell, let’s give him fifty acres of the stuff,” Porter said.

      “Okay, this one’s yours.” Marcus handed him a printed email, then turned back to the map. “I say we rezone this entire parcel for commercial use,” Marcus said, “but we have to provide access to it. That’s why I think we need to move the bridge up on our priority list.”

      “Kendall can build us a new bridge,” Porter said.

      At his brother’s reference to his civil engineering degree, Kendall made a rueful noise. “But I can’t design one. We need a structural engineer for that.”

      Porter held up his finger. “I—”

      “Got it covered,” Marcus cut in, giving Porter a look that said he’d take care of finding a structural engineer. He glanced at Kendall. “That will free you up to get ready for the D.O.E. rep.”

      Kendall nodded. “I trust your judgment. We’re going to need some crackerjack contractors, too, guys who know how to pour concrete in cold temperatures.”

      “Understood,” Marcus said, then he clapped Porter on the back. “While Kendall and I build a bridge, you can get started on a church if you want.”

      Porter pursed his mouth. “I think you’re right—we should hold off for now. I think I’ll go scout out the parcel across the creek.”

      Marcus smiled. “Thought you might.”

      Porter left and Kendall stood, then reached for his laptop. “Guess I’ll head to the media room and get started on that presentation.”

      Marcus nodded. “Sounds good.”

      Kendall reached the door, then turned back. “Marcus, about earlier…”

      “Yeah, sorry about that, man.”

      “No…you’re right—I need to move on. Thanks for the wake-up call.”

      “Sure thing,” Marcus said, then picked up his phone. “Speaking of calls, I need to make some.”

      “Right. See you later.” Kendall grabbed a jacket, then turned and walked out of the office trailer toward the center of town. The temperature was bracingly cool, just what he needed at the moment to clear his head.

      As he approached the crop of buildings that made up the new downtown area, he realized they had much to be proud of. School was letting out, and the sound of children’s laughter hung in the air. Pedestrians bustled around and a couple of cars rolled down Main Street. Soon they would have to start thinking about installing a stoplight.

      Sweetness had been revived. If he squinted, the scene reminded him of the way the town looked when he was young. Then he sighed. There was only one thing missing.

      Amy.

      2

      Amy Bradshaw pulled out her desk drawer in search of chocolate. Most days she took solace in the surety of the demands of being an engineer—there were no gray areas when it came to CAD drawings and blueprints and per square inch load of reinforced concrete. But going out on her own after being laid off from the state of Michigan’s Department of Transportation was another matter.

      Her former boss had recommended her for small jobs here and there, but she was waiting to hear if she’d been selected as project leader for a big reservoir project, and the suspense was driving up her stress level. She was qualified for the position, and she’d been told by insiders that the longer it took, the more likely the news would be good—engineers that were out of the running had already been notified.

      She had a lot riding on this job.

      When her fingers closed around a cellophane wrapped chocolate cupcake in the back of the drawer, she whooped in triumph. She tore open the wrapper and bit into the cake, not caring that it was stale and dry.

      While she chewed, momentarily gratified, Amy noticed that underneath the cupcake was an ad she’d cut out of the local newspaper over six months ago. She pulled it out and swallowed, wincing as the hard ball of empty calories scraped down her throat.

      The new town of Sweetness, Georgia, welcomes one hundred single women with a pioneering spirit looking for a fresh start!

      Sweetness, Georgia…her hometown. Her initial shock at seeing the advertisement for women to help rebuild the small town that had been devastated by a tornado ten years ago was trumped only by the names of the men behind the ad: Armstrong.

      As in Kendall Armstrong and his brothers Marcus and Porter. As far as she knew, Kendall didn’t know where she’d settled after leaving Sweetness. On the other hand, the chance of the ad landing in her local newspaper seven hundred miles away strictly by coincidence seemed a little far-fetched. The first few days after the ad had appeared, she’d been besieged with paranoia, looking over her shoulder and half afraid to answer the phone. But Kendall hadn’t appeared on her doorstep and slowly she’d relaxed. Then the group of women, including her friend Dr. Nikki Salinger, had left Broadway to make the trip south to Sweetness. Again, she’d held her breath that Kendall would contact her.

      And again, he hadn’t.

      And then another emotion had crept in—curiosity. Obviously, Kendall knew where she was. So why hadn’t he called or…something?

      Because she’d told him not to. That last conversation was burned into her memory.

      Wait for me, Amy. I’ll come back for you.

      But Amy had been tired of waiting for Kendall to commit to her, tired of him coming home for a few days of leave from the Air Force for marathon lovemaking, then taking off to another adventure, leaving her behind.

      You think I’m going to sit in this podunk town and wait for you? Forget it. Goodbye, Kendall. And don’t ever try to contact me.

      Amy

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