“Maybe we skip the small talk,” Drew said, “and you tell me what’s on your mind.”

Janet decided to take him at his word. “Look, I’m glad the preschool’s getting an overhaul. But that doesn’t change the fact that Middleburg’s problem is about to become prime-time entertainment.”

“You don’t trust us to get the job done right.”

“As a matter of fact, yes.”

“Well, Janet Bishop, I’ll make you a deal.” Drew pulled out a checkbook and wrote out a check. “This here’s a blank check made out to your store. After we’re gone, if plaster cracks, if the pipes leak, we’ll cover the cost for anything the church needs to order. I don’t want you all to feel we’ve taken advantage of Middleburg in any way.”

Janet stared at the check.

“I believe in what I do, Janet, and I mean to prove it to you.” He extended his hand. “Will you let me?”

ALLIE PLEITER

Enthusiastic but slightly untidy mother of two, RITA® Award finalist Allie Pleiter writes both fiction and nonfiction. An avid knitter and non-reformed chocoholic, she spends her days writing books, drinking coffee and finding new ways to avoid housework. Allie grew up in Connecticut, holds a BS in Speech from Northwestern University, and spent fifteen years in the field of professional fund-raising. She lives with her husband, children and a Havanese dog named Bella in the suburbs of Chicago, Illinois.

Bluegrass Courtship
Allie Pleiter

Unless the Lord builds the house,

its builders labor in vain.

Unless the Lord watches over the city,

the watchmen stand guard in vain.

—Psalms 127:1

To my late father, Joe Stanko, who built things

Acknowledgments

Returning to Middleburg always means a return trip to charming Midway, Kentucky. Everything good about Middleburg comes from Midway. Everything “quirky” is definitely of my own invention. My thanks again to the lovely people—readers included—who’ve helped me fall in love with this part of the country. I’m so happy to be back and eagerly awaiting my subsequent returns.

My thanks, as always, to my family—especially Mandy and CJ who endured another one of those “research vacations.” To the inventors of the DVR, who saved my family from sitting through dozens of Extreme Makeover: Home Edition episodes. To Jim Griffin and Alana Ruoso in the art department at Steeple Hill for giving me a delightful cover. And to all of you, for your kindness, your letters and prayers. You are all proof that God can bless abundantly across the airwaves and the miles.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Questions for Discussion

Chapter One

Eight seconds.

Sometimes five, but never more than eight.

Drew Downing knew the world divided itself up into people who loved his television show, and people who hated it. After three seasons of Missionnovation, Drew could size up which side of that very thin line any one person stood. Always in under eight seconds after his trademark greeting of “God bless ’ya and hello, Middleburg!”

He didn’t need the last five seconds this time…not with the pretty face of that woman in overalls standing at the end of the paint aisle. It broadcast pure skepticism. Drew didn’t even need three seconds to tell him Bishop Hardware, while it was Middleburg’s only hardware store, would be no instant ally to his cause. “Hostiles,” his producer, Charlie Buchanan, called them. Sometimes you could win ’em over, most times no matter what you did they were just sure you had an angle. If the hostiles couldn’t find an angle, they never believed you just might not have one. It only meant you hid it well.

Middleburg, Kentucky was the perfect project for the season finale of Drew’s Missionnovation television renovation program. The tiny town’s church preschool had been smashed by one hundred-year-old tree during a summer storm. Toddlers had had to learn their primary colors in the YMCA gym because their preschool had been destroyed. The town had been holding bake sales to buy new roofs and spaghetti dinners to fund drywall. And now Missionnovation was here to help.

Some folks at least were glad of it. “My stars!” came a woman’s awestruck squeal from over by the gardening supplies. “It’s those Missionnovation folks! From TV! Pam, look! It’s him.”

“How may I help you?” The woman in overalls asked.

Wow, Drew thought, I didn’t know you could make “How may I help you?” sound unfriendly. “Well, that’s just it,” he said, turning his gaze to the excited crowd that had pooled into the store behind him, “I’m here to ask you the same thing.”

Oh, sure, said the woman’s dark eyes. Drew could be in a sea of people thrilled to meet him, and the only thing he’d notice was the one person who was convinced he was on the take. The one person sure the “ministry makeover” Missionnovation offered was just too good to be true. Charlie was always giving him a hard time about his obsession to “win over the hostiles.”

A chubby older man grabbed his hand and shook it vigorously. “Mr. Downing, we sure are glad to see you and your team here. I’m the one who sent in the application.”

“Of course you are.” Drew recognized him from the application video and clasped one of the man’s shoulders. “And I’m glad you did. You must be Mayor Epson.”

“I am.” He beamed. A few of the locals patted him on the back. Watching the person who’d sent in the application get to be a hero never got old. That application process was long, complicated and demanded a lot of work. Getting to tell that person their persistence paid off, and their dream project would be realized, and on TV to boot, well that was the high-octane fuel that enabled Drew to pull as many all-nighters as he did.

“Howard Epson, life’s about to change. Your town’s about to get a shot in the arm like only Missionnovation can deliver. Are you up for it?”

These folks watched their Thursday night television. They knew what to do when Drew Downing asked “Are you up for it?” The tiny crowd yelled “We’re up for it!” so loud it echoed throughout the store. Two teenage girls grabbed a sheet of paint chip samples off the display next to them and held them out to Drew, asking for autographs. Out of the corner of his eye, Drew caught the lady in the overalls rolling her eyes.

“There’ll be plenty of time for that kind of stuff later, gals,” Drew said to the pair. “Right now we’ve got work ahead. You girls think you could convince your classmates to come on over? We need all the hands we can get on demolition day.”

“I suppose we can find a few friends,” they said. If they were in charge of bringing teens onto the set, Drew knew they’d be the most popular girls in school tomorrow.

“Then I’ll put you in charge of teen volunteers. You go see Annie in the bus and she’ll get you all set up with a box of T-shirts to give out as you sign folks up, okay?”

“Sure!” They bubbled up the aisle toward Annie, who’d be waiting in the bus as always.

“Mayor Epson, lead the way.”

“I’d be delighted!”

Drew turned back to the woman, who hadn’t moved from her spot at the end of the paint aisle. He noticed, for the first time, that the name on her Bishop Hardware nametag was Janet Bishop. Owner? Daughter of owner? Wife of owner? It was too soon to say. “We’ll be back later with a mighty long list,” he said, pointing right at her.

She looked unconvinced.

Why do hostiles always look unconvinced?

Chapter Two

Vern Murphy shuffled up the aisle to stand beside Janet Bishop as she stared after the crowd now leaving Bishop Hardware.

“Don’t that beat all,” he said, scraping black grease from under his fingernails with the edge of a screwdriver. “He’s that TV guy, ain’t he? Should spice things up around here for a bit.”

“It’ll do something, that’s for sure.” Janet muttered, even though she could hear her father’s gravelly voice in the back of her mind saying “Jannybean, if you can’t say something nice…”

Vern pointed at the green bus so big it blocked the entire storefront. It had Missionnovation across the side in large white letters. “They probably got all kinds of fancy-pants tools in there. You know, like the pneumatic doodads in those catalogues of yours. Might be worth watching. Sounds like they’ll be buying up a storm if nothing else, so business’ll be good.”

Buses full of tourists were fairly normal in Middleburg, Kentucky. It was a charming, rustic—okay, sometimes a little too rustic—town in the middle of horse country. The kind of town with one main street—Ballad Road—running down the center to comprise its “downtown.” A community where everybody knew everyone’s name and often everyone’s business. Not exactly thriving, but getting by on hard work and watching out for each other. Even so, the storm had hit lots of people hard, and the preschool damage had presented a big challenge. This tourbus, however, was more like a rolling subdivision than your average charter bus. People were already gathered around, talking, pointing, straining to see inside the tinted windows.

“Vern,” Janet sighed, “these people have corporate sponsors. Companies who donate everything so they get their stuff on TV. They’re not going to need much from us.” Janet replaced the can of primer someone had knocked off the shelf in their hurry to follow Downing.

“But he just said he’d be back with a long list,” Vern countered.

“A long list of requests, I’d guess. Those people think you’ll do anything to get on their show. That you’ll fall all over them and give them whatever they want. And we can’t afford to be a ‘corporate sponsor’ right now.” She headed back to her office, where she had three orders yet to fill. Actual business, resulting in actual income. She’d have to give Howard a piece of her mind the next time she saw him. He was always pulling stunts like this.

“Sounds like I’d better head on over to that bus and tell them all just what they’re dealing with in here,” Vern said. “We don’t stand for no Hollywood shenanigans.”

Ten minutes later, Janet looked up from her order forms to see a short, round-faced woman in a green button-down shirt and glasses standing in her doorway. “I’m Annie Michaels,” she said, extending a hand, “vice president of Shenanigan Prevention.”

“Um,” she stuttered, genuinely shocked that Vern had gone through with it, “I’m Janet Bishop.”

Annie cocked her head toward the doorway. “They don’t make ’em like Mr. Murphy anymore.”

“Vern?” Janet put down the calculator she’d been using and held out her hand. “No, he’s definitely one of a kind. Been working here since my dad bought the shop, which means he’s been at Bishop Hardware longer than I have.”

“He thinks pretty highly of you. He just gave me an earful about not pulling any fast ones on you. Said you’re too smart to fall for any of that…oh, how’d he put it? ‘Slick-o TV shenanigans y’all may be used to.’”

“Yep,” Janet chuckled, “that’d be our Vern.”

Annie pushed her glasses up into her wavy black hair. She had a sensible, friendly smile. “You got a minute?”

“I guess.” Janet swept the pile of bulb catalogues off the office’s other chair and motioned for her to sit down.

“I meant to come on board the bus,” Annie said, “I’ve got a bunch of stuff I’d like to go over with you, and I can bring it all out here, but…”

But we’d rather deal with you on our turf.

“The sponsors give us so much free food, I’m always trying to share it. Honestly, if I eat one more box of chocolate chip cookies…”

Chocolate chip cookies? Was Janet staring at good fortune or a great background check that they knew her weakness for chocolate chip cookies? Her stomach growled, as if to say it wouldn’t quibble much either way. “Well, okay.” It wasn’t as if there’d be many customers. Everyone in town would probably be at the church preschool by now anyway.

The bus doors folded open with a whoosh, and Annie motioned for Janet to step inside. As she walked up the steep stairs, Janet noticed a hand-carved sign hung over the entryway. Home Green Home, it read.

“Drew made that one weekend when it was pouring rain and we were all beyond thankful to have a warm, dry place to sleep. He started calling the bus ‘Home Green Home’ after that, and it stuck. Granted, though, some days this bus feels less homey than others.” Annie shot Janet a look as she turned toward the bus’s center table. The bus was high-end; sleek and well-appointed with all kinds of comforts like a microwave, several televisions and plush furnishings. It also had a chaotic, slightly messy feel to it, as papers and videotapes and a few boxes of T-shirts were parked on every available surface. The table, however, was clear and neatly arranged. “Some days a corporate cubicle looks like a positive vacation. Drew’s nonstop creativity can be…well, non-stop. But most days this is an amazing job and I thank God for the chances I’ve got.”

Well, thought Janet, you knew they’d get to the God part sometime.

As Janet sat down, Annie reached up into a cabinet that was top-to-bottom chocolate chip cookie boxes. And not just any chocolate chip cookie, either. Delicious Dave’s Chocolate Chip Cookies—pretty much the finest stuff on the planet.

She’d forgotten that Missionnovation had Dave’s as one of their sponsors. Every show ended with a parting shot of the whole design team sitting down to milk and cookies with whatever congregation they’d just saved. It was the kind of heavily wholesome scene that made Janet dislike the show, even though her mother watched it every Thursday night she happened to be over for dinner.

“I hope you know your hardware as well as you know your cookies,” Annie said as she placed an opened Dave’s box on the table and flipped open a thick file of lists. “Drew can come up with some pretty unusual requests.” She pulled her glasses out of her hair and put them back on. “Do you want us to just purchase whatever stock you’ve got, or do you want us to place our special orders through you, too?”

Janet froze with the cookie halfway to her mouth. “You’re going to buy your supplies through me?”

Annie looked surprised. “You don’t want us to?”

“I’m…” Janet hid her astonishment behind a mouthful of cookie. “I just figured you guys got your stuff through HomeBase.” The hardware megastore chain was one of Missionnovation’s major sponsors.

“Well, we do loads of business with them, that’s true, but we also try to do as much local business as we can.”

Annie popped up off her chair and filled a mug from the coffeemaker behind her. Janet noticed a bank of electronic equipment—walkie-talkies, headphones, video-cameras and several machines she couldn’t recognize—on a shelf over Annie’s head. The woman hoisted her cup Janet’s way in a “want some?” gesture, but Janet shook her head. She had never really been the coffeemaker after-breakfast type. “And, in answer to your question, yes,” Annie said as she turned back toward the counter to add a big swig of creamer to her cup. “He really is like that.”

“Like what?” Janet hadn’t asked a question. Out loud, that is.

“Like what you see on TV. The thing nobody seems able to figure out is that Missionnovation is exactly what it looks like. There’s no hype or gimmick. Drew and Charlie—that’d be Charlie Buchanan, our producer—just hit on one of those great ideas where everybody wins.” Annie sat back down, and Janet wanted to gulp. Had her suspicions been that apparent? “This is a first-class, faith-filled, high-integrity operation, Janet. If you have any problems, even the tiniest one, you come straight to Drew or me, okay?”

I don’t know the first thing about you except what I see on TV—that hardly seems enough to go on. Janet stared at the long lists in Annie’s hands. The first page alone had more orders on it than Janet had seen all month. The first file—and there were six—probably doubled all the sales ledgers sitting in her office. If what this Annie said was true, then Bishop Hardware might not have a “slow season” this fall. And that would make a world of difference. Slowly, Janet nodded. “I’d be a fool not to take you up on it.”

“Good. I’m glad we got that out of the way. We’re the real deal, Janet.” Annie dunked a cookie into her coffee. “And you can take that to the bank. We’ll try never to give you a reason to worry.”

They were just going over the third file when a noise rose up outside the bus and the doors pushed open.

“Annie,” came Drew Downing’s voice over the crowd, “we got our octopus!”

Chapter Three

“Octopus?” Janet glanced between them.

“Drew, this is Janet Bishop.”

“Hi, there.” Downing sounded as if he had run the whole way back from the church. “Howard Epson is going to be a handful. Serious octopus.”

“The guy who has to have his hand in everything,” explained Annie with a wry grin.

“Oh.” Janet couldn’t suppress a smile. She had an amusing vision of Mayor Howard Epson’s ever-present blue cardigan sweater suddenly sprouting six extra sleeves. “Yeah, that sounds like Howard.”

Drew used one foot to tug over a stool while he reached into the bus fridge for a bottle of water. “I know he’s probably a good guy, but we’ve got to find something safe—lots of safe somethings—for Mayor Epson to do. I won’t get a thing done if he’s all over this the way he wants to be.”

Annie sighed. “There’s an octopus on every project. And it usually is the one who sent in the application. It’s great that they feel such a sense of ownership, but…”

“Howard is a bit of an attention and control freak,” Janet offered.

“Being elected for three straight terms as Mayor of Middleburg does not qualify you to run a bulldozer.” Drew gulped down some water before continuing. “He can’t be the guy to knock down the gym. You need certification to do that sort of thing. Try and talk to him again, will you, Annie?”

“And that,” said Annie, gathering up a clipboard, “is the other part of my job. Shenanigan Prevention and Octopus Wrangler. Put that on a business card.”

“Shenanigan?” Drew looked at Janet.

“Long story,” Janet answered dryly.

“You two finish going over that list. I’ll go deal with His Honor.” Annie snagged her coffee mug—a green mug with the white Missionnovation logo on both sides—and headed out the door.

“I’m Drew,” Downing said as he extended a hand. She thought it was funny that he introduced himself—everyone knew who he was. Janet noticed his watch was a combination of a snazzy face and a rugged leather band. “And you’ve met Annie. You got any trouble—any concerns at all—you bring ’em to one of us. We aim to do right around here.”

“So I keep hearing,” Janet replied.

“Well,” Drew said, shucking off his coat and tossing it on the couch behind him, “if you don’t mind my saying so, you looked a bit skeptical back there in the store.” He took another swig of water and pulled Annie’s file of lists over in front of him. “So you’re the Bishop in Bishop’s Hardware?”

“That’d be me.”

He cocked his head to one side and eyed her. He had brown hair, shot through with a smattering of very hip-looking blond streaks. He sported an expensive brand of athletic shoes, but they’d definitely seen a lot of wear. His jeans were one of those expensive brands, too, but they had rips in both knees and a streak of paint down one side. Still the kind of man better suited for some slick California café than a Kentucky diner. There was no arguing he had a face worthy of television—tawny complexion, strong jaw, killer dimples. The color of his eyes wasn’t that noteworthy—it was mostly the gigawatt intensity that made Janet look twice. “You don’t see too many female owners in the hardware business,” he offered. “Especially in small towns. How’d you get into it?”

Janet was well aware of her uniqueness. Even though she’d been around the store for years, contractors all over the county gave her a hard time when she first took over, testing to see if she really knew her stuff. And she did. Janet knew the name of every type of screwdriver by the time she was three. She was mixing paint by the time she was ten, and could recommend the proper pipe fitting by the time she could drive. “Genetically,” she replied. “My dad owned the store.”

“My dad was a plumber,” Drew said as he dug his hand into the box of cookies and pulled out two. Janet could see the memory overtake him, diffuse the light in his eyes. “He wouldn’t know what to make of what I do now.”

“Was?” She just knew by the way he said it.

“He died four years ago, just before we signed the deal for Missionnovation. Your dad like how you run the store?”

“He’s been gone for a couple of years now. I like to think he’d be fine with how it’s going.”

Drew raised an eyebrow. “You’re old enough to have been running a hardware store for five years? Don’t they have child labor laws in Kentucky?”

Janet crossed her arms and tried to look every one of her twenty-eight years. “They teach you that in Hollywood charm school?”

“Okay, so maybe we skip the charming small talk and you tell me what’s really on your mind. I like it better that way, anyway.”

Janet decided to take him at his word. “Look, I’m glad the preschool’s getting an overhaul. We needed it, even before the oak tree went through the roof. And I know the school and church’ll get all kinds of bells and whistles that they’d never get any other way. And this,” she tapped the files between them on the table, “is a whole lot of business for me, that’s true. But all that doesn’t change the fact that Middleburg’s problem is about to become prime-time entertainment.”

“Because you don’t trust us to get the job done right. You’re afraid we’ll manufacture drama. Exploit your hardship.” He pushed up the sleeves of his green Missionnovation sweatshirt.

“As a matter of fact, yes.”

“Well, Janet.” He leaned forward in his seat. “I’ll make you a deal. You won’t have to trust me. I’m giving you full access. Inspect any of the construction at any time of the day or night.” He stood up and went over to a little office built next to where all the electronics stood. “Here are the direct lines to our production staff and our accountants. Call anyone you like to confirm anything you hear from me.” He handed her a paper while he pulled open a cabinet revealing a safe. Opening it, he pulled out a fat checkbook.

“I, however,” he sat back down again, “am going to trust you from this very moment.” He pointed to the file. “There’s a list of what we’ll need so far. That’s only the beginning, of course, but it should keep you busy while we set about finishing the job that oak tree started.” He pulled a check from the checkbook and wrote it out to Bishop Hardware, signed it, but left the amount blank. “And this here’s a blank check made out to your store. We want satisfied customers. This check is for you to make any repairs or modifications you find you need after we’re gone. If the plaster cracks, fix it. If the pipes leak, call a plumber. We’ll cover your costs for anything you need to fix that you think was our doing. I don’t want you to feel we’ve taken advantage of you or Middleburg in any way.”

Janet stared at the check, filled—except for the “in the amount of” line—with Downing’s large, flamboyant handwriting. He’d signed his name so large it overshot the signature line on either side.

“I was raised to be a man of my word. I believe in what I do. I’m the real deal, Janet Bishop, and I mean to prove it to you.” He extended his hand with something near fire in his eyes. “Will you let me?”

Chapter Four

“Can you believe it?”

“Hi, Mom.”

Barbara Bishop, “Bebe” to her close friends, rushed into the store. “I saw the bus out front even before Sandy Burnside called me at the library.” Janet’s mother read books for the preschool story hour every Wednesday. It didn’t take much imagination to picture Goodnight Moon coming to a screaming halt once word of Missionnovation’s arrival hit the streets. Bebe Bishop was a big fan, and part of the reason Janet ended up watching the spectacle every other Thursday when they had dinner together. Before she heard Howard own up to it, Janet half-suspected her own mother of sending in a tape. “Can you believe it?” Her mother’s breathless excitement bounced the words out in short spurts. “I mean, can you really believe it, Jannybean?”

“With that huge bus parked right in front of the store, it’s a little hard to ignore.”

“I heard he came right in here. Did you meet him? And anyone else? Did you meet Kevin Cooper?” Her small, lean frame was practically vibrating with excitement.

Kevin Cooper was the landscaping expert of the Missionnovation team, and a personal favorite of Janet’s mother, who was close to her pruning shears and potting soil herself. The trellis of blooming flowers that graced Janet’s back deck this summer was copied directly from a Missionnovation episode. Janet had the misfortune to mention to her mother during said episode that she had “some spare lumber just like that lying around the shop.” Before she knew it, Janet’s back deck had its own Missionnovation-inspired garden trellis.

“No.” Janet hadn’t yet seen any of the people she saw on TV except for Downing. Despite her “Shenanigan” title, Annie must be a producer or some such thing because Janet had never seen her on the show. “But Drew Downing was in here.”

“I got to meet him,” her mother boasted as she unzipped the dark blue canvas Bishop Hardware windbreaker she always wore. It had been Janet’s dad’s and she had to cuff up the sleeves more than a few times in order to make it fit. “He seems just like he is on the show. A nice fellow. Bit high energy, but of course I knew to expect that. He invited me to the prayer meeting at the bus tonight.” She pulled a Missionnovation Daily Devotional booklet out of one of the jacket’s interior pockets. “They don’t ever show those on TV, but I read about them. And now we get to be part of it. It’s just amazing. Even you have to think this is amazing. After all we’ve been through trying to raise enough money to fix that preschool?”

“It’s gonna be something, that’s for sure.”

Her mother shot her one of her looks. That “oh, stop being such a wet blanket” look she always gave Janet when she got all worked up about something church-related. Janet no longer did the bubbly religion thing. She told herself she respected the Almighty enough not to try and fake Him out after all she’d seen.

“No prayer meeting,” Janet said before her mom even had a chance to ask. “I’ll see enough of those folks during the day.”

“They’re ordering through the store, aren’t they? I hadn’t even thought about that. Should be a whole lot of business. God’s been kind to you. You think about that.” She tapped her green brochure on Janet’s arm. “You may want to think about giving Him another chance one of these days.” Another look.

It was an exchange they’d had far too often. A few years back, Tony Donalds, the son of Middleburg Community Church’s pastor at the time, had pulled Janet into a serious relationship. It had been a whirlwind of newly energized faith with the promise of future adventure. And it had opened up facets of Janet’s relationship with God she’d never discovered before.

It just hadn’t been real. Because Tony hadn’t been real.

Janet didn’t blame Pastor Donalds—now the former pastor, of course—for not seeing his son’s true nature. Tony’d fooled them all. He’d been traveling to raise funds—and then home to raise Janet’s hopes—for a mission project that never existed. To capture it in a tired cliché, Tony took the money and ran.

They’d been ring-shopping, hoping to announce their engagement within the month, when it all unraveled. While her mom thought of it as God saving Janet in the nick of time, Janet saw it differently. She’d seen how false “the God’s honest truth” could be, and she had every right to put permanent distance between herself and the church.

“Did you hear?” Dinah Hopkins’s voice pulled Janet from her thoughts. Dinah owned the Taste and See Bakery just up the street, and she had become Janet’s close friend since moving in just over a year ago. It had started out over Dinah’s outstanding chocolate chip cookies and grown into a close friendship between the two businesswomen. And even though Dinah was as “bubbly churchy” as Janet’s mother, somehow their differences never came between them. Janet was glad for the diversion—until she saw the green-and-white bandana tied around Dinah’s wrist.

“Dinah,” Bebe cooed, “you been prayin’ for God to send you the man of your dreams? I know you’ve got a thing for that wild Drew Downing—and now he’s right here in Middleburg.”

“I took one look at that fine lookin’ man and thought ‘my stars, but he’s a blessin’ to the universe.’” Dinah sported the remains of a fierce Jersey accent, so such southernisms sounded ridiculous the way she said them. It always made Janet’s mother laugh, which is why Dinah fired up the Southern twang every time she was with Bebe. Dinah and Janet’s mom were too much alike. Janet, Dinah and Emily Montague, who owned the bath shop up the street, were Middleburg’s three single female shopkeepers. Although with Emily’s new engagement to horse farmer Gil Sorrent, it’d be down to two single shopkeepers soon.

While Dinah often scouted potential mates, being single didn’t really bother Janet. Lots of women were happily single well into their forties, much less their thirties. Life was much kinder to an independent woman now than it had been in her mother’s day.

“You didn’t already take Drew Downing a plate of cookies, did you?” Dinah wasn’t exactly known for her shy, retiring nature. While she’d never admit it openly, Janet liked the many crazy adventures Dinah made for the shopkeeper trio. Dinah didn’t always, however, know where to draw the line. “You’re not that shameless.” Janet lowered one eyebrow. “Are you?”

Dinah winked. “What do you think—‘Drew may dig Dave’s, but he’ll die for Dinah’s.’”

Janet rolled her eyes while her mother erupted in a laugh. “Dinah, you didn’t.”

“I didn’t. But I might.”

“Don’t. I’ve been in that bus and it has more chocolate chip cookies in it than you’ve seen in a week. They’re in no need of cookies, even yours.”

Dinah’s eyes grew wide. “You got in the bus? What’s it like?”

Janet leaned forward. Her mother and Dinah drew close. Janet waited for dramatic effect, as if choosing just the words powerful enough to describe the iconic Missionnovation bus. “It’s a bus. It’s big. It’s green. It rolls. It blocked my front window all afternoon.”

Her mother frowned at her. “It’s the most exciting thing to happen to Middleburg since I don’t know when, they’re buying a truckload of lumber and supplies from you and you still can’t let yourself get into the spirit of the thing. Honestly, Janet, I wish you’d find a way to stop being such a cynic.”

Dinah deepened her voice and flexed a bicep. “It takes a hard woman to run a hardware store in hard times. Good thing you’ve got me to put a little buzz in your beehive.” Dinah had a habit of seasoning her speech with odd little metaphors.

“Are we done yet?” Janet walked back toward her office. “I suddenly have eight colors of ceramic tile to order.”

“That church has needed new bathrooms since the dawn of time,” Bebe said to Dinah as they followed Janet down the aisle.

“You know it. Wow. Drew Downing and Missionnovation, right here in Middleburg. I may have to start liking Howard Epson now. Didn’t see that coming. So, Mrs. B., you going to the prayer meeting tonight?”

Janet turned. “I thought we were going to the movies tonight, Dinah.”

“Yeah, well, that was before Drew Downing rolled into town. I got all the entertainment I need live and in person. Did you know he plays the guitar? Musician, craftsman and hunk. Mercy!” She winked at Bebe. “Do you think he leads the singing at these things?”

“We’ll find out.”

Janet watched her friend gab away about the virtues of Missionnovation as Dinah walked out of the store with Bebe. Leaving her alone. And now Janet would be going to the movies alone, too. The day was just getting better by the moment.

Chapter Five

Drew waved to the audience after he closed the final prayer of the worship service. “Good night everybody, and God bless. We’ll see you in the morning. It’ll take a truckload of hands to pull that building apart, but you’ll love it when we put it back together.”

Drew, Kevin and the two other on-screen members of the design team—electrics and utilities expert Mike Overmayer and furnishings guru Jeremy Sutter—stood around for a few minutes, shaking hands and signing autographs. Drew introduced everyone he could to Annie and some of the other offscreen staff no one ever saw. Annie ran from the cameras, but Drew knew it was tiring to be the team member without celebrity status. He couldn’t do what he did without Annie, and he liked to see her get credit. Even if she did blush mightily as she signed her name to the back of someone’s devotional booklet. As opposed to Jeremy, who offered to sign everyone’s.

It was almost ten, but it felt like two in the morning. He recognized the usual first-day combination of jazzed up and worn out. So, while he’d encouraged the town to go home and get a good night’s rest, Drew doubted he’d do much more than grab sleep in fits and spurts tonight.

Kevin, no stranger to the nocturnal challenges of Night One, as it was known around the bus, walked up to Drew as the crowd thinned and handed him a travel mug of coffee. Caffeine had long since lost any effect on the pair—it had become more sustenance than stimulant. Annie always joked that coffee and chocolate chip cookies were the official dinner of Missionnovation. “So, who is it?” Kevin said under his breath as they waved good-night to the last of the fans and turned toward the bus.

“The octopus?” Drew nodded in thanks as he took a long drink of coffee. “Howard Epson. He showed up within the first hour—I’m amazed he hasn’t asked you to let him sod the lawn himself yet.”

“Howard, I’ve met. Definitely one of our finer octo…” He searched for the proper plural noun. “What’s the plural of octopus?”

“Ask Annie—she’d know. Octopi?” Drew guessed as the bus doors slid open.

“Yeah, but who is it?”

“Who is who?”

“Who is whom? And it’s octopoda.” Annie corrected as they walked past her head poking up from a box of files.

“The hostile. The person you kept looking for in the crowd tonight—” he nodded toward Annie “—whom I’m pretty sure you didn’t find. When are you going to stop that? Don’t you get that by definition, the hostiles aren’t going to show up to the Night One prayer meeting?”

Drew winced. “Was I that obvious?”

“Only to me,” Kevin replied.

“And me,” Annie added, now triumphantly holding the file she’d evidently been seeking in the enormous box. She straightened up and grabbed her coat. “Y’all can stay up all night and plan your brains out, I’m out of here.” Annie, while a bedrock of calm during the day, knew her limits and disappeared at night whenever possible, generally to a local hotel or, in this case, the local bed and breakfast. Kevin and Drew always had the bus, while Jeremy, Mike, and the others slept on-site in a collection of rented trailers. Drew gladly approved Annie’s off-site lodging budget—if she came unglued, the rest of them would fall to pieces within the hour.

And they were, officially, on-site. The bus had been moved to the block just south of the church, beside the firehouse just off Middleburg’s main road. Close enough to Ballad Road for them to run over and get something when needed—which Drew imagined would more often than not be something from Bishop Hardware—but not enough to become a logjam for local businesses. The fire station was more than happy to have a little of the limelight, and Missionnovation had long since learned that strong firefighters came in mighty handy on demolition and move-in day.

Kevin collapsed onto the bus couch. He hit a few buttons on the stereo in the wall beside him, and country music began to play over the bus’s sound system. “You still haven’t answered me.”

“The hardware store owner,” Drew said, sitting at the table. “Our hostile is the hardware store owner.”

A frown creased Kevin’s face. “A bit of a challenge, but you ought to be able to bring him around by the end of the week if not sooner.”

“No chance. This is one situation where I cannot bring him around.”

Kevin propped himself up on one elbow. “Drew Downing, admitting defeat on Day One? Why?”

“Because he is a she. Janet Bishop, owner of Bishop Hardware and not, it seems, a big fan of Missionnovation.”

“Oh, well at least we know it’s not genetic,” Kevin laughed. “Now I know why Barbara Bishop introduced herself as Janet Bishop’s mother like it ought to mean something. Janet may be your hostile, but her mom is definitely a big fan.” A smug grin played across Kevin’s face. “I’m her favorite member of the design team. Plants rule!”

Kevin was a big, burly guy with a head full of dark brown curls, usually escaping from under a baseball cap worn backward. His role was landscaping and comic relief. If something goofy happened on the show, Kevin was usually behind it. Drew lost count of the number of arguments Kevin had diffused with some joke or prank. They’d split the Missionnovation viewer demographic right down the middle—girls loved Drew, moms and grandmas loved Kevin. Drew, of course, lost no opportunity to rub in Kevin’s “gray hair” appeal. Kevin, in turn, mocked Drew’s “hunk” status every chance he got. Mike and Jeremy wisely stayed out of the rivalry. Mostly because Mike didn’t care who liked him, and Jeremy was sure everyone secretly loved him best anyway.

“The hardware store owner, hmm?” Kevin hoisted his feet up on the couch. “That should make things interesting. How you gonna make this work without her cooperation?”

“She’s cooperating, just with suspicion.”

Kevin rolled his eyes. “Oh, you love the suspicious ones. They’re your favorite. You sulked for weeks over that last one.”

Drew found a Missionnovation bandana sitting on the table behind him and tossed it at his friend. “Don’t you have some roots to dig up somewhere? Something to weed?”

Kevin stuffed his hand into the open box of Dave’s cookies on the counter beside him. “I’ll put her on my prayer list,” he said. He yawned and pulled out a handful of cookies. “Trouble is, which one do I pray for…her or you?”

Chapter Six

Kevin had been snoring for an hour in the top bunk when Drew read Charlie’s e-mail one more time. Charlie had sent notes from the initial meeting with the network, and it seemed big things were in the works. HomeBase was considering kicking their sponsorship up to a whole new level, and Drew was staring at negotiations for a multi-season, major network deal. Just think of the lives they could touch. The witness they could be. It felt like God had told Drew to fasten his seat belt and hold on for the ride of his life. And it had been such a ride already.

Drew scanned all those complex tables, outlines and numbers, and gave a heartfelt prayer of thanksgiving for Charlie. Stuff like market share, ratings, brand exposure—all this was Charlie’s native tongue and he excelled at it.

Even though he knew Charlie prayed mightily over every move he made, Drew still felt antsy. As if he were holding a very large power tool he’d never used before with no manual in sight. Thrilling, but dangerous. Where are You taking me, Lord? Where are You taking Missionnovation? Keep me focused on You and Your plan, will You? We could have all the success in the world, and if You’re not in it, it won’t matter at all.

Sawdust.

Nothing on earth smelled like it, hung in the air like it, or stuck to things with the same airy weightlessness as sawdust. The scent struck a deep chord in Janet every time she caught a whiff of it. Sawdust meant Dad and things being built and Saturday mornings sitting on his workbench, still in her pajamas, sipping chocolate milk from a cup with a bendy straw. Watching Dad explain why you measured every piece of wood twice so you never cut it wrong. She practiced her alphabet by drawing letters in the sawdust with her fingers. She played with the curled yellow shavings from her father’s woodcutter, assembled leftover bits of wood the way other kids assembled blocks.

It was the smell of sawdust that came to Janet first as she approached the church grounds. And the sounds; sawing, hammering, drilling, the particular tone of wood clunking together. Those noises and smells created one of Janet’s favorite feelings. All too often these days, she was buried under inventory and back orders and bookkeeping. And yet she still loved construction. The texture of wood beneath her hands, the smell of shavings, the satisfaction when two things fit together the way they ought to—these things were at the very core of her love for Bishop Hardware. They were what drew her to her own little version of construction—building birdhouses. Janet had turned one of her bedrooms into a workshop to spend her free hours building artful birdhouses. Castles, lighthouses, English cottages and all kinds of buildings became birdhouse styles for her to miniaturize. She was always cutting photographs of interesting houses from magazines, storing up ideas for future birdhouses. Her workroom had half a dozen carefully crafted pieces—some of them taking months to get just right—lined up on a shelf. To cut and feel and shape and join—even on a tiny scale—fed something so basic in her she couldn’t even begin to describe it. Dinah always said she “baked to live.” Janet’s nature was too practical for such an esoteric sense of vocation, and besides, you really baked to eat, didn’t you? But when she finished a birdhouse, or on a morning like this, when she walked onto a job site and saw the raw materials coming together to make something so much more than themselves, she could catch a glimpse of what Dinah meant.

Middleburg Community Church, or “MCC” to its congregation, was what most people pictured when they thought of a small-town church. White siding, tall columns on either side of a china-blue front door, nestled up against a hillside with a parking lot that needed serious patching. The little fenced-in yard of the preschool was a muddy mess since the storm. The portion of the church that had housed the school had been a patchwork of make-do and as-we-get-the-funds repairs for weeks, leaving the church looking wounded and bandaged in a collection of tarps.

Janet looked up as she crossed the church lawn to see that the preschool wing of the church was now completely gone. Simply cut right off the end, like a corner off a sheet cake. That side of the building stood neatly swathed in blue plastic tarps nailed down to the remaining walls with strips of lumber so that the unpredictable winds of a Kentucky autumn couldn’t snatch them away. People clad in white hard hats swarmed over the site and clustered around members of the design team.

“Hey, look out there!” Janet’s astonished reverie was broken by a crew member’s hand grabbing her elbow just before she would have tripped over a wiggling black cable. It was then that she noticed the cameras. There must have been six of them, shouldered by a camera crew that poked in and out of the clustered workers. Three of them, naturally, were trained on Drew Downing. One cameraman was trying, as gracefully as possible, to get Howard Epson to move so he could shoot the rest of the community’s participation.

And participate they had. As she began to recognize face after face out of the green-shirted crowd, nearly everyone Janet knew in Middleburg was either helping on the site or watching from the sidewalks. The girls Downing had commissioned to recruit the high school had evidently been quite successful—Janet guessed she was looking at the entire senior class. High school seniors up at seven in the morning on a Saturday? Maybe Downing did have the power of the Almighty working on his behalf.

Or, more likely, the glare of the television lights.

As if he’d heard her thoughts, Drew Downing began walking in her direction. With two cameras in tow. I knew it’d get like this.

“Did you ever think you’d see a hardware spectacle?” Drew asked, pulling a measuring tape off his tool belt and depositing it on a table beside him with an unceremonious thunk. “I love demolition day. It’s more fun than anyone should be allowed to have on television.”

And that, Janet thought, is just the point. Demolition was serious, even dangerous business. She hoped Missionnovation took safety as seriously as entertainment.

“You’ve come just in time—this ought to be fabulous. Ever pull a wall down before?”

“Yes,” Janet said without any hint of excitement.

Drew pointed at her. “With your bare hands?” He thrust his hands into a large box to his left and pulled out a white hard hat with the green Missionnovation logo. He held it out to Janet.

“C’mon, lend a hand,” Downing said, offering the hat with a gigawatt smile. “You might have a bit of fun if you’re not careful. But don’t worry, we’re careful, too.” He motioned toward the line of people gathering across from a trio of ropes that were tied to the church’s remaining West wall.

“We’ve decided to replace the church’s entire roof for you, too,” he said as they began walking. “Kevin’s got an idea to create a garden outside the school windows. It’ll even have a miniature cistern to retain rainwater. You know, teach the kids about ecology and water preservation.”

Okay, perhaps it was a little impressive. The church had been in dire need of structural improvements even back when she was involved, and based on her mom’s conversation not much had changed in the years she’d stayed away. “Have you looked into a full system that feeds off all the roof gutters? If you’re going to replace the whole roof anyway, why not alter it into a rainwater retrieval system for the entire church?”

He stopped for a moment, taken aback by her suggestion. “We might take a serious look at that. How many other ideas do you have lurking in the back of that head of yours?”

Janet decided not to suppress the smile that crept across her face. “Probably more than you want to hear.”

He grinned as he settled a hard hat down onto his own head. “Let’s test that theory. After we yank this baby down, that is.”

Howard was getting in the way of things, determined to be at the head of the line until Drew handed Howard his megaphone and insisted that only the Mayor could give the command to pull. Now, one should always think twice before handing Howard Epson a megaphone, but he kept his speech down to an endurable thirty seconds before yelling, “One, two, three, pull!”

And, just like Jericho, the wall came a-tumblin’ down in what, Janet had to admit, was an enthusiastic but highly controlled manner.

A second team immediately slid a temporary wall into place that would protect the existing rooms while the framework for the new school wing was constructed. Kevin and Mike walked through the cheering crowd with a collection of bright green crowbars, showing volunteers how to dismantle the fallen lumber and remove the nails. Like happy ants in green T-shirts, volunteers began crawling over the wall, breaking it up and carrying it away. Janet permitted herself a smidge of admiration. They were doing it right.

Until someone started singing. The crowd joined in, and when she caught sight of her mother conducting half the women’s guild with a crowbar, Janet walked off, depositing her hard hat on a table with an annoyed grumble.

Vern met her at the door of the hardware store. She took the day’s mail from him and pointed back in the direction of the church. “They’re singing. It’s like a scene from The Sound of Music over there—people in matching outfits chirping away.”

“I can hear ’em,” Vern said. He scratched his chin and narrowed his eyes. “What you got against happy people all of a sudden? Maybe it ain’t Sound of Music. Maybe it’s Snow White and I’m a’starin’ right at Grumpy.”

“I am not grumpy.”

Vern leaned against the door and adjusted his cap. “You’ve been a whole truckload of grumpy since those television folks came into town. I know I had my doubts when they got here, but they seem like good folk to me. I watched them set up yesterday. Good work. Maybe we should give them a little more credit for what they’re tryin’ to do. Ain’t no harm if they have a little fun in the process.”

Janet’s jaw dropped. That was the closest thing to a lecture Vern had given her in ages. He’d eyed her, drug his feet at some of the things she’d asked him to do, muttered under his breath now and then, but never out-and-out told her off like he just did. Given his first suspicions, this sudden outburst baffled her, and she stared at him.

The old man walked toward her. “Yeah, I was worried at first, too. And I know they’re a bit much to take. You’re sure we could be blinded by shiny lights and free T-shirts. That we’ll all be so busy looking at the cameras we won’t see them pulling a fast one on us. And I love you for caring so much about this town. But it seems to me that we ought to remember that Drew ain’t Tony. And Middleburg has good folk watching over her. So don’t go putting it on your shoulders.” He reached out and touched her cheek, his lined face folding into a lopsided old grin. “You don’t have to hold up the world, Jannybean. Just Bishop Hardware. And even that you could put down for a time or two if you wanted.”

Janet swallowed, caught off-guard by Vern’s gesture. “I’m not that grumpy, am I?”

He winked, crinkling up his face even more. “You ain’t a potful of glee.”

Potful of glee? Where’d Vern come up with that crazy image? Dinah? “Vern, I have never been a ‘potful of glee’, and I’m pretty sure I don’t want to be. I think Dinah’s sort of got that covered, anyway.”

Vern chuckled. “That she does.”

Janet sighed and rolled her shoulders. She had been a bundle of knots since Missionnovation pulled into town, and Vern was right: the team had yet to give her any grounds to be suspicious. “I suppose I could cut them a little slack. They are trying to do good out there, even if it is bright, shiny, good.”

Vern tucked his thumbs under his suspenders. “I reckon you can find a middle ground between grumpy and glee.”

Janet was just about to plant a kiss on the old man’s cheek when the hardware store door flew open.

“Get a load of these,” Dinah shouted, holding a tray of small cakes with green and white glaze. “Muffinnovations!”

Janet rolled her eyes while Vern said under his breath, “Well, then again, maybe you better worry just a little.”

Chapter Seven

Janet was walking back from Deacon’s Grill with a roast beef sandwich to go when she heard someone yell “Janet!” and saw Drew Downing jogging up the street to catch up with her. Remembering Vern’s admonition to give Missionnovation a chance, Janet sat down on a bench by the park and waited for Drew to join her. “Go ahead, don’t let me keep you from your lunch,” he said, motioning toward the sandwich she held in her lap. “That from Deacon’s? Everyone has been telling me to eat there.”

“They make the best pie in the county,” Janet offered. “And a pretty mean roast beef sandwich besides.”

“Looks like it. Although I have to say, I’m really much more of a cake and cookie man, myself.”

No wonder Dinah had a thing for him. “Then my friend Dinah Hopkins’s Taste and See Bakery is the place you want. You saw the…”

“Muffinnovations?” he chuckled. “I gotta admit, that’s a first. Hard to make something that green taste that good. I’m thinking we should post her recipe on the show’s Web site, if she’ll share.”

“Dinah’s very big on sharing. And she’s very big on Missionnovation. She’ll be thrilled.” Janet took a bite of her sandwich.

“But you’re not. Thrilled. Yet,” Downing added.

“Believe it or not, Vern gave me a talking-to on how I should ‘give y’all the benefit of the doubt.’”

“I just left a list of electrical conduit and wiring with him. We’ll be done framing tomorrow and ready to start pulling some of the utilities through the walls. He’s a hoot, your Vern. Reminds me a whole lot of my dad.”

“I used to call him ‘Uncle Vern’ when I was little. He’s like a member of our family, he’s been around for so long.”

Downing threw one arm over the bench and settled back against it. “Why’d you leave so quickly yesterday?”

Janet bit back the sharp answer she would have given before Vern’s lecture. “Let’s just say it was a bit too much glee for me.”

“Not used to people singing with power tools?”

That question didn’t even need an answer. Janet decided she might find Drew less annoying if she understood him better. It was worth a shot. “Can I ask you something?”

“I told you you could ask me anything.”

“Well, no offense, but how do you keep this whole thing up? Doesn’t it exhaust you to be pumped up and on camera all the time?”

Downing pulled back. “People ask me that all the time.” He shifted his weight on the bench. “It gets to the point where you don’t even see the cameras anymore. They just fade into the landscape for me. Which means, by the way, that I don’t pander to them, either. I don’t do things especially for the cameras. And here’s the thing. People see through the hype. When something’s been manufactured for the cameras—which I try to never let happen, by the way—folks can usually tell.”

“There’s a whole lot of reality TV that would prove you wrong. You can’t tell me some of that stuff isn’t drummed up for drama’s sake.”

“Well, now I’d have to agree with you there. Some of that stuff is just plain nuts. But you see—” his gestures grew as he continued “—you just proved my point—people can tell. Truth always feels like truth, even if it takes a while to get there. It’s kind of like Howard. Sometimes he has good things to say, good intentions, but you can always tell what’s the truth and what’s Howard’s grandstanding, can’t you?”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“I know there’s some real awful stuff out there on the airwaves. I can’t speak for what happens on other shows. All I can tell you is that as much as I can, it doesn’t happen on Missionnovation. I try to be the same Drew Downing on camera as off.” He picked at the fraying cuff of the flannel shirt he wore. She noticed half the pocket was ripped off. He was such a visual contradiction: expensive watch but ratty shirts, trendy shoes with paint splattered all over them. “You’re not the first person to ask me how I stay ‘on’ all the time. The truth is that there is no ‘on’ and it’s easy to stay this way because this is who I am. Drew is Drew is Drew.” He leaned in and one corner of his mouth curved up into an infectious, dimpled grin. “So how’s about a deal. I won’t make you sing, if you let me prove to you there’s nothing to worry about. I want you to feel free to drop by the site as much as you want.”

Janet eyed him as she took another bite of her sandwich. “You already said that. On the bus. Then again at church yesterday.”

“I can’t help it. Annie says I’m relentless.”

Janet laughed in spite of herself. “You are.”

“We can be friends, you know. I won’t bite you. You can call me Drew and everything.”

She laughed again. “You’re crazy, Drew.”

“Occupational hazard, Janet.”

“Watch yourself,” she found herself kidding back. He seemed to bring out a long lost humor in her. She used to kid all the time with Vern. With her parents. Where had that Janet gone in the last few years?

Drew checked his watch. “I came to ask you to come over to the church at four-thirty this afternoon. Kevin and I are going to talk to some government grant people—see if we can round up some extra funding for that roof and rainwater system you mentioned. I’d like you to be there. Will you?”

So he’d taken her idea seriously. Somehow she hadn’t expected that. “Sure. I can be there.”

Satisfied, Drew leaned back and looked around the park. “This sure is a pretty little town. Don’t see too many of these anymore. So many of the ones that are left are hanging on by their fingernails with half the downtowns boarded up.”

Janet took in the scenery herself. It was one of those color-soaked fall days—the kind that made Middleburg look like a life-sized postcard for autumn foliage. “We have our struggles. It’s hard to keep a small town up and running these days. The mom and pop stores can barely make ends meet anymore. So many people just shop at the big stores and shopping malls.”

“That’s why we do all the local purchasing we can. But the reality of it is that Missionnovation needs the big stores, too. We’re an expensive proposition. I can’t do what I do—what I’m doing for Middleburg—without national brands backing me up. Their dollars let us do things we couldn’t do otherwise. But I know things are tough on the little guy. Some days I’m living between a rock and a hard place.”

Janet understood the sentiment. Running Bishop Hardware was a daily excursion into the space between a rock and a hard place. Things were tougher than someone like him probably knew.

The bus was a haven of quiet after the noise of the construction site and Drew’s back and forth conversation with Janet. He wasn’t sure he’d get her to attend the meeting, even if it was about installing the full-scale rainwater system that had been her idea. He knew that if he was going to bring her around he’d have to get her on-site as much as possible. And she wasn’t coming around easy, either. She was fighting it every step of the way. He wondered what could be behind such powerful resistance.

Drew poured himself a cup of coffee and let his body fall onto the couch. He’d been up since five this morning, and it’d be after ten when things wound down at the church, now that they had a set of floodlights put up. Once the drywall went up later in the week, there’d be people in that preschool around the clock. He took a few sips of coffee and let his head fall back against the cushions. This job had turned him into a master power-napper, and he’d come to recognize when it was time to shut his body down for a stretch of time. Kevin once told a health magazine that Drew Downing got more sleep in a twenty-minute nap than most people got all night. Things had quieted down for the afternoon, and he was feeling good about getting Janet’s participation in the meeting, so now seemed the perfect time for the luxury of a snooze.

As he lay there, waiting for sleep to come, his thoughts remained on Janet. She wasn’t a great physical beauty, although her face had feminine, delicate lines. Her short hair suited those memorable cheekbones and enormous brown eyes. There was a clean strength to her appearance, a no-nonsense groundedness to the way she carried herself. If she had a lean or curvy figure, it was hard to tell under those overalls she always wore. As he almost fell asleep, he found himself wondering what she’d look like in a yellow sundress.

Which thrust his eyes wide open. Maybe he needed more sleep than he thought. He usually wasn’t the kind to let a woman turn his head on the job.

But it wasn’t like that. Not that he didn’t find her attractive in an innocent, Audrey Hepburn kind of way, but it was more than that. He admired her.

Which was funny, because really, the thing he most admired about her was how unimpressed she was with him. Janet wasn’t swayed by the tidal wave of excitement Missionnovation brought to a place. She’d been more worried about the safety of her town than the things Missionnovation could do for her store. He’d found those types of unswayed people to be solid and grounded; and she seemed to be—under all that defensiveness. Where had that groundedness—almost a hidden nobleness—come from? She had a strong sense of who she was, yet she seemed selfless, too. Janet Bishop, he guessed, would be the kind of person to make a big donation to a charity, but do it anonymously.

When you asked Janet a question, you’d get an honest answer, even if it wasn’t the answer you wanted. In the kiss up media world, those kind of people were few and far between.

What have You got going on with her, Lord? he prayed as he slumped down farther into the couch, sleep starting to overtake him. In his experience, that kind of full-out honesty grew out of some experience with deception. He wondered if that were true with her. Where did all that suspicion come from? Any plans on doing away with some of it while we’re here?

Why was that his problem? Sure, she was a “hostile,” and that instantly put her on Drew’s radar. But somehow Janet Bishop wasn’t the ordinary “hostile.” With most of the reluctant types, Drew just cared that they liked the show. It was more personal with Janet. Mostly because she was somehow making it personal. While she’d never really voiced it, he got the strong impression that she was not so much suspicious of Missionnovation as she was suspicious of him. Unconvinced of his integrity.

That was it, wasn’t it? He could handle anyone’s suspicions of the show—he had a thick skin where Missionnovation was concerned—but it was bugging him that Janet Bishop wasn’t willing to take him at his word.

And that was a sore spot, because he was feeling the squeeze in the integrity department lately. Success was a funny thing in this business. Instead of making things easier, it made things more complicated. Bigger deals had more strings. Success bred expectations of more success. You could mess up when you were small potatoes, and people would just brush themselves off and go on. Trip up when everyone’s watching, and suddenly the mishaps grew harder to put behind you.

As the projects had met with success and the show had grown over the first three seasons, people began to take notice. Media people had recognized that Missionnovationwas on to something. So it wasn’t new that a network had shown interest. Last season, they’d gotten a solid offer or two, promising visibility, production budgets and backing. But all of them made subtle requests for Drew to “dial down the God.” To use the word faith instead of Christianity—things like that. As far as Drew was concerned, that was nonnegotiable. Missionnovation was about renovating the places where worship happened. And that meant Jesus would be present and accounted for—every episode.

Drew laid his forearm across his face, shutting out the strong afternoon light that came through the bus window. With Kevin’s music not on, he could hear the birds. It felt like months since he’d been able to lie down and listen to birds. His life was so full of noise lately that some days it was hard to think straight. To listen. He shut his eyes. Keep me on the straight and narrow, Jesus. The view’s getting fuzzy from up here, and I don’t ever want to stray from Your plan for this. Just make it work.

Make it work…. He prayed over and over as he drifted off.

Chapter Eight

Some unknown time later, Drew felt an insistent tapping on his boot. He opened his eyes to find Annie standing there, clipboard in hand. He wasn’t surprised to find a worried look on her face—Annie didn’t wake him up for just anything.

“Annie, I know that look,” he sighed, pulling himself upright. “Trouble?”

“Depends on your point of view.”

Drew rubbed his eyes at the enigmatic answer. “What’s up?”

“When you didn’t check your e-mail, Charlie sent a fax. Big network meeting next week.”

Drew sat up straight when he read the fax. “Next week? He knows I don’t leave the site, ever.” He stared at the column of names at the bottom of the fax, listing the people to be at the meeting. Names he didn’t recognize, but titles that indicated they were dealing with HomeBase’s top brass and network heavyweights.

Drew pulled out his cell phone and hit the speed dial for Charlie’s private line at the California production office.

Charlie picked up on the first ring. “I knew I’d get your attention with a fax.”

“What gives? You get all those bigwigs in one place and you make it the week I can’t show up? You sure you can handle all that influence in one room without my supervision?”

“Bingo, Drew. There’s a lot of power on that list. Three seasons of huge exposure, huge resources. They have schedules that would choke mere mortals like us. You need to be here.”

Drew didn’t reply. He thought his own schedule was bad enough, but never did understand the subtleties of the network deal—that was Charlie’s territory. It probably took Charlie months to set this thing up.

“I know it’s not how you’d like it,” Charlie continued. “I know you’re going have to give a little on the project to be here, but you know me. I wouldn’t ask you if it weren’t important. Seriously, Drew, we’re looking at a once in a lifetime shot here. You need to be in L.A. when this happens.”

Drew began pacing the bus. “There’s got to be another way. If you’ve got them all together, and it’s that important, let’s just spend the money and fly them out here. Let ’em see Missionnovation firsthand. This one’s a dream—it’s the ideal episode for that kind of thing—they’d eat it up.”

Drew heard Charlie sigh. “I thought of that already. I proposed it. I even told them I’d charter their flight directly into Lexington and have them home by dinner—eight hours from top to bottom.”

“And…”

“No go. It’s L.A. or nothing.”

Drew ran his hands through his hair. “I hate this. Don’t do this to me. Don’t ask me to cut corners.”

“No one’s asking you to cut corners. I can have you in and out in twenty-four hours, and you know you’ve got people who can handle the site. Drew, we’ve talked about this. As Missionnovation grows, you’re going to have to step back a bit from the day-to-day stuff. That’s leadership. You’ve got to be out in front so your people can follow.”

Drew caught sight of his reflection in the bus windows. He couldn’t quite picture the scraggly lad in front of him doing deals with all those network and corporate heavyweights. This felt more like being backed into a corner than being out in front, leading. Drew had a long history with Charlie, though; long enough to know Charlie only made demands when he had no other choice. “You’re not going to ask me to wear a suit or anything, are you?”

Charlie laughed. “Do you even own one?”

“The last suit I wore was to my father’s funeral, Chuck. I don’t associate them with happy occasions.” Drew only used “Chuck” when he was making him mad or pushing his limits. This definitely qualified. Charlie had probably known this was going to be a “Chuck” call before he sent the fax. And he’d sent it anyway. That was Charlie—ready to be “Chuck” if that’s what it took to get the deal done. He had to respect that in his longtime partner. “I don’t like this,” Drew sighed into the phone.

“Welcome to the big leagues. Everything costs a little more up here.”

It felt wrong.

“Can I let you know?” he said wearily into the phone. “I need to think about this.”

“Think about it. Pray about it. You’re free to do whatever it takes to get your head around this. Just as long as you do it in the next twenty-four hours.”

And that was television: ponder all you want, but ponder fast. “I’ll call you, Chuck,” Drew said, and snapped his phone shut.

“What do you think, Annie?” Drew called as he walked to the back of the bus where she’d gone to give him some privacy. “Should I stick it to The Man or do the deal with him?”

“Charles signs my paychecks, but I work for you. I’ll back you whatever you decide.”

“So you’re not going to tell me what I should do?”

Annie pushed her glasses up on top of her head. “Do I look like the kind of girl to take God’s job away from Him?”

Janet stood on the church steps watching the government types get back into their car. “You’re very smooth, I’ll grant you that.”

“You know,” said Drew as he put a rubber band from his pocket around the blueprints he’d rolled up, “when you say that kind of stuff, it never sounds like a compliment. Can I pour on the charm to move a project forward? Yes, I can. All I did was sell the project to their needs and sensibilities. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Janet planted her hands on her hips. She would have stuffed her hands in her pockets, but she’d taken the care to put on something nicer than overalls for a meeting with state officials. It’d been weeks since she’d worn a skirt anyway, and she was looking for an occasion to wear the new boots her mother had bought her for her birthday last month.

It was a brilliant idea to propose the rainwater collection system for a government grant—she’d wished she thought of it herself. Drew, though, had clearly also pushed the project’s new TV visibility. It felt like an unfair edge. What about all the other worthy ecological projects that wouldn’t get funded just because there was no celebrity to play the high profile card? “You can’t seriously believe your celebrity status and the presence of a television camera didn’t affect the outcome of that meeting.”

Drew looked at her as she started down the steps. “Well, of course it did. But don’t you think I’d be foolish not to use that? I didn’t deceive anyone—or knock anyone else out of the running for that grant. Everything I said in there was the absolute truth.” He began tapping the tube of blueprints against his open palm. “Did I use every asset at my disposal? Sure. Every gift of gab and insight into human nature God’s given me? Absolutely.” He stopped at the bottom of the steps and turned to look back up at her. “You know, I never did buy into the concept that deep faith turned you into some kind of doormat. That you had to sit around, contemplating the Biblical truths of the universe, waiting for God to bring life to your doorstep. I count on God as much as I know how for this. But I think that includes working as hard as I can to meet the goals I believe He’s set before me. Besides—” he started across the sidewalk “—if you must know, I checked, and there aren’t any other viable applicants for that pool of funds right now.”

Janet followed after him. “Hey, look, I didn’t mean to start a fight.”

Drew paused, shut his eyes for a moment, and pushed out a breath. “Sorry—I hadn’t even realized you hit a nerve there. I’m overreacting here, aren’t I?”

It made Janet laugh. “You’re wound a bit tight, yeah.”

“I think it’s part of the job description. Actually, it might be the majority of the job description. You need to be a little bit wacky to do what I do.”

“Well, you got the church a full rainwater retrieval system and a new roof—so maybe wacky’s got its uses.” She pointed to the blueprints. “But this is a whole church roof now, not just the preschool roof. You’ll follow the specs, won’t you? Take the time to get all the details done right? Roofs are serious. Roofs are supposed to last decades. I’d hate to see the church dealing with leaks in two years’ time because someone cut a few corners to make their television deadline and you’re long gone into another blockbuster season.”

“You can supervise the installation yourself, if you want to. You seem to know more about the rainwater part than anyone else.”

Janet crossed her arms over her chest. “Some of us have to earn our living the un-televised way. You know, minding the store, all that day-to-day boring stuff?”

“Hey, that Vern looks like a pretty capable guy. He’d probably jump at the chance to be king of Bishop Hardware for a week.”

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