LITMIR.BIZ

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who had christened her with the nickname of Flip, thanks to her skating prowess, that the R10:14’s hours would be shortened was not something she’d been looking forward to.

      Eventually she’d have to tell them, though. A thought occurred. Until the store was completed, her time was her own. Which meant she could spend as much of that time at the skate park as she wished.

      Pippa glanced at Logan as an idea formed. “So,” she said slowly, “how long did you say the work was going to take?”

      “I didn’t.” He signaled to turn. “But I’m thinking if I get the materials in when they’ve been promised, I can turn over the keys to your loft in three weeks. Two and a half if I hurry.”

      Unexpected disappointment hit her hard. She’d hoped for at least another month of uninterrupted time at the skate park before she had to divide herself between ministry and commerce. Two or three would be better, as it would give her time to see the teenagers had a safe place to spend their time through the summer months.

      “I see,” Pippa said as brightly as she could manage.

      “The store itself will take a little longer. We’re retrofitting what’s there, so there are fewer issues with what’s behind the walls. Still, I’m going to say that’s another month or two of work, depending.”

      Her hopes rose. Several months would be wonderful. Longer, even better. “Depending?”

      Logan nodded. “Never know what’ll happen on a job site. Lots of variables. Until this morning I had no idea we’d be hiding a broken satellite dish.” At her confused look, he continued. “Apparently the storm knocked it over. The historical commission will never approve of it dangling in full view of people on the street. Nor would your grandmother.”

      “True.” Pippa twisted the sliver bracelet on her wrist and tried to sound casual. “And this new idea you have? Will that add to the time line?”

      “At least two weeks, maybe three or four depending on what I find when my helper and I start tearing things apart. Of course, if you’re in a hurry I might be able to come up with a less labor-intensive plan to speed things up.”

      “No,” she said quickly. Too quickly, Pippa decided when her companion gave her a surprised look. “What I mean is, I’m comfortable in my rental, so there’s no need to hurry,” she amended. “And I know Granny will want the job done right.”

      “Okay, but understand I always make sure the job’s done right.”

      Their gazes collided, and Pippa gripped the edge of the seat. Oh my, he was handsome. “Of course,” she managed.

      And he would. Any guy who practically had his construction updates automated to deliver at precisely noon every Friday did not seem like the type who would take shortcuts.

      Logan shut off the engine and pocketed the keys. “Before we go in, there are a couple of things you need to know. First, be careful where you walk. The building’s solid as a rock, but that doesn’t mean the floor doesn’t have some soft spots. I don’t want you ending up on the first floor by any way but the stairs, got it?”

      Pippa nodded as she exited the Jeep. “Got it.”

      “And you’re not exactly wearing safety shoes, so watch out for nails. Some of the demo has already been done, so just—”

      “Be careful,” she said along with him. “I will. And for the record, I’ve done a little construction work in my time, so I’m pretty good at avoiding on-the-job injuries.”

      By the sound of his chuckle, Logan apparently did not realize she was serious. Maybe someday she would take him down to the R10:14 to show him how she and a few others turned the empty warehouse into a haven for skateboarders and in-line skaters. She’d certainly pounded her share of nails and gained almost as many bruises and splinters in the completion of what the kids liked to call phase one of the park.

      “And for the record, I do own a pair of safety shoes,” she said just as Logan closed the door.

      Granny had insisted once she spied the warehouse and the work that Pippa would be doing. As a compromise, however, Pippa had allowed one of the kids to customize the ugly black boots. An expert at tagging whose efforts were now confined to the interior of R10:14 thanks to a brush with the law, one of the skaters—a fellow named Rico—had worked his magic with spray paint to give her a stunning pair of boots with her nickname emblazoned on them. She still wore them sometimes, though the need had long since passed.

      Logan met her on the curb, then led the way. The redbrick facade had been scrubbed clean, and the marble cornerstone that proclaimed the name of Branson’s Bakery and its opening year of 1905 now gleamed bright white.

      She ran her fingertips over the carved brass plate beneath the door’s arched handle, its golden color faded and in dire need of polish. “Can you imagine how many hands have touched this over the years?”

      He gave her an appreciative smile as he brushed past her to unlock the door. “Come on,” Logan said, and gestured toward the murky shadows of the area that had once been the bakery’s showroom.

      Though Pippa had walked through the building with Granny on several occasions, she’d not been inside since the renovation work began last week. After the crew had removed the awful acoustic tiles that were added some fifty years ago, the ceiling was twice the height of the rooms upstairs, giving the space an expansive feel.

      “Kept the heat up near the roof,” Logan said as he brushed past her. “The tall ceilings down here, that is.” He walked over to the staircase and looked up. “Too bad the apartment upstairs doesn’t have these ceilings. Guess Mr. Branson didn’t much care if Mrs. Branson stayed cool in the summer.”

      “It was likely that Mrs. Branson was down here working alongside her husband,” Pippa remarked.

      “You could be right,” Logan said with a nod as he turned his attention toward the stairs.

      While Logan studied the sturdiness of the staircase, Pippa turned around to see stripes of sunlight slanting through the dust-streaked window and racing across the worn wooden floors. Closing her eyes, she could imagine what it would have looked like new in 1905. And what it might look like again in a few months.

      She opened her eyes to spy Logan looking at her. He’d draped his arm over the banister, his palm resting on the ornate newel post. “If I’d realized I’d be showing this to you today, I would have brought the preliminary drawings. After you see my idea, I’ll make any updates you think would be acceptable and email the documents.”

      “That would be perfect,” she said. “But for now, just tell me what you’re thinking for this space.”

      Logan stepped into a shaft of sunlight and smiled. “All right, I guess we can see well enough. Over there,” he said, gesturing to the far corner of the room, “is where I thought we would put the cashier’s counter.”

      Pippa followed the direction of his gaze and nodded. As Logan continued his explanation, her attention drifted from the room in which they stood to the man who would transform it. From his sun-streaked hair to the tanned and muscled forearms showing beneath the rolled-up sleeve of his dress shirt, time had been kind to the kid who’d disappeared from Vine Beach High a year after Pippa arrived. Just about the same time her confidence in ever fitting in fled, as well.

      “Pippa, are you coming?”

      “Oh, sorry,” she said as she hurried to follow Logan toward the once-grand staircase that snaked up the brick wall with sagging risers and more than a few missing spindles.

      “I checked and it’s sturdy, but step carefully,” he reminded her.

      Emerging onto the second-floor landing, Pippa could see demolition work had begun here, as well. Though the hardwood floor, in need of a new coat of varnish, had only been covered with paper, most of the walls were now stripped to the studs.

      The difference in the amount of light and the

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