“In?” she asked. “Special?”
“Once you get Mattie settled, we’ll have a catered dinner on the patio so you’ll be able to hear him if he wakes. Don’t panic,” he said, laughing. “I don’t have ulterior motives—there’s going to be a waiter present most of the time. I’m not trying to trap you. Impress you, yes. Trap you, no.”
Paul didn’t see Terri at all that week, but he called her twice to ask her how she was, and he kept the conversations short. He’d been planning to go to Virgin River, but then he got a call from Joe explaining about Jack and Preacher’s add-on, and the need for a builder’s opinion. This was perfect because it gave a professional purpose to the trip but he knew Terri would realize there was more to Virgin River than a construction job. He promised to call her during the weekend to make sure she was doing all right, but he didn’t give her the general’s number where he could be reached. This time, he would call for messages.
But she surprised him by saying, “Have a nice weekend, Paul.” And he was so grateful that he suggested he might try to see her the following week, maybe for a lunch. And she said, “That would be nice, Paul.”
When he got to the general’s house on Saturday, Vanni was not there, and Walt was wearing a very annoyed expression.
“She didn’t mention she’d be away this weekend,” Paul said.
“No, she didn’t, did she?” the general said. “Yet, I’m not sure why. You have any intel on that, son?”
He shook his head. “I told her I was coming. I think she was angry with me for forgetting to call her.”
“She’s gone away for the weekend with the pediatrician,” Walt announced.
“God damn! Sir,” Paul said. “I mean—”
“I know exactly what you mean.” Walt turned away from him.
“Sir, maybe I can explain this misunderstanding,” Paul attempted.
The general waved him off. “I don’t want to hear it,” he said. “I’ve heard way too much already, and I don’t want to be any more confused. Seems about time you explained whatever it is to Vanessa, however.”
“Yeah. Yes, sir. Ah, I have to go into town, see Jack and Preacher about building onto that bar. How’d you like to come along?”
He turned back. “As a matter of fact, I’d like to do just that.”
By the time Paul and Walt got to the bar, the lunch crowd was finishing up. Both of them needed a beer, both for the same reason, though they didn’t discuss it. Walt had no idea what was going on with his daughter, but he’d been real close to her for thirty years and he smelled a broken heart, yet she’d gone away with the doctor. As for Paul, he was sure his complete ineptness was causing him to lose her. Again.
After Jack served them up a couple of cold drafts, Paul said, “Joe tells me you’re planning some building.”
“That’s a fact,” Jack said. “We have to make room for Preacher’s family. Now that he’s figured out how to make the babies, he wants a house big enough to fill up with kids.” Jack took a sip from his coffee mug. “They like it here. They like working together, living right on the property, running things their way. Makes sense to me, and Joe says it’s easily done. He left some sketches, but doesn’t have plans yet. He needs a builder to check out beams and foundation, etcetera.”
“I can do that,” Paul said. “You have someone in mind for building?”
“That’s a problem around here. Until recently, there’s not been too much demand so our general contractors are few and far between. Remember, I couldn’t find one who could go to work within a year, but we sure have plenty of crew looking for construction jobs. And, there’s been a development.”
“What’s that?”
“Mike and Brie. They’ve been looking for a house for months—nothing that works for them has come on the market. My plot’s big—I can give them a parcel and they can build their own place. They’ll be talking to Joe soon about a design. But they’re sitting in that RV, trying to start their own family, needing space, and they have the same problem—a serious lack of builders.” He shook his head. “This is one of those times I wish you lived in Virgin River, Paul.”
“Let me see the sketches,” Paul said, changing the subject.
Jack reached under the bar and pulled out a large sheaf of rolled papers, clipped together at one corner. “They’re pretty rough sketches.”