Hi guys, we have Vicki Reese and her upcoming release What the Carpenter Saw, Vicki chats briefly about where the idea for her story came from and there’s a fantastic excerpt, so check out the post and enjoy! <3 ~Pixie~
What the Carpenter Saw
Vicki Reese
Wounded warrior Jake Cramer returned from the Middle East missing part of one leg and with a partially paralyzed left arm. He feels useless in his family’s construction business, but carpentry is all he knows. He needs to relearn how to work and how to live. He can’t even consider finding a man to love. Who would want him this way?
Alex Ford is a top-of-the-line architect who’s tired of big cities and wants to settle down, maybe run a small inn. The mansion he inherited from his grandparents might be the ticket to his dream, but it needs a lot of work. When he meets the handsome builder, he knows he’s made the right decision. He just needs to convince Jake that his scars don’t matter. Unfortunately, Alex’s greedy family has other ideas, and they’re determined to ruin Alex’s plans and take the inheritance for themselves—even if they have to kill to do it.
Vicki Reese!
Thank you for having me here today. I’m so excited to talk to you all about my story and the inspiration behind it.
“What the Carpenter Saw” started as a brainstorming session with my sister and brother-in-law. They dearly love to read mystery and suspense stories, but wanted to see something softer than the hard-core male detectives. They wanted something softer. At the same time, I was watching a commercial for wounded warriors, and then saw a small story in my hometown paper about a fire at an old, abandoned mansion-style house outside of town. Thus began the “what if” and it went from there. What if… A wounded warrior returned home but could no longer do the job he had before? What if… A rich man owned a large mansion in the town, but for legal reasons, it had been unlived-in for several years. What if….
You get the idea. Thus “What the Carpenter Saw” was born.
Excerpt
Chapter One
JAKE CRAMER stared out the kitchen window at the thick woods behind his dad’s house. A mixture of brilliantly colored hardwoods and evergreens edged with a gurgling stream—so different from the harsh rock and sand of the Middle East. Though he wasn’t cold, he shivered a little as wisps of steam rose from the water, forming tendrils of icy fog along the bank. Frost had coated the lawn and garden overnight and was still visible in the areas the sun hadn’t yet touched. South Central Pennsylvania was so much better than the Middle East, and he loved the small town of Robinwood. It was the kind of place where you knew your neighbors and the shopkeepers by their first names. The kind of place that was great to grow up in, raise a family in. The kind of place it was good to come back to.
“Jake? You okay?” his dad, Micah, aka Big Mike, asked.
Mike came to stand next to him as Jake nodded. “Yeah. Just looking at the trees. I missed this when I was over there.”
“I know what you mean. Though where I was stationed wasn’t as bad as Afghanistan, I can’t say I was fond of the desert when I was there.” His dad clapped him on the shoulder, and Jake fought back a wince. The scars there still bothered him, but he refused to let it show.
His dad handed him a coffee thermos. “You ready to get to work? Your brother’s already on his way.”
Jake nodded and turned from the view. His dad had served in the Gulf War. Different area, same scenery. The Pennsylvania landscape held Jake’s heart. And work with the family construction company was exactly what he needed. Hammers and saws and wood. Building things, not blowing them up or shooting them full of holes. Though coming home hadn’t been easy. His family, especially his mom, had coddled him to the point of smothering him. He loved them all dearly, but he also needed to find his own way. It was slow, but he was getting there. “I’m coming. We working on the Johnson place today? I’ve got the cabinets ready to go in.”
“No. There’s a delay on the flooring for the kitchen. We’re working the McKenzie lot today. I want to get it under roof before the cold sets in. Sam will handle the crew there. I need you to go to the old Wilson place and make a list of what we’ll need to do there and in what order. The new owner wants to do a complete overhaul. He’s turning the old mansion into a B and B. I’ll meet you there after I do a supply run for your brother.”
“Works for me.” Jake shivered and grabbed his heavy jacket from the peg next to the back door as Mike opened it. Though he’d been back for a month, the cold October air still chilled him after the heat of the Middle East. Even with the cold, he’d rather be working a site than doing paperwork, but Mike was the boss, and Jake didn’t have a whole lot of choice in the matter.
The chill also made his left arm and leg ache more. At least, what was left of his leg. Because of his injuries, he could no longer do ladder work, definitely not roofing. He was still too unsteady to work a sloping roof. But honestly, he didn’t mind too much. The awkwardness and pain meant he had most of his leg, unlike a lot of other servicemen and women he knew. Sure, metal held parts of it together and it ended below the knee, but that was enough for him to get around with a prosthetic. He rarely needed to use the hated wheelchair anymore. As for his arm, it still worked, sort of. Just not nearly as well as before. Heavy scar tissue and tendon damage made it more of something to fill his sleeve than an actual working arm, though the therapists said he would get some use back the more he worked it. But he’d lived, unlike two other members of his team. And it was also the reason he was stuck doing estimates instead of site work.
He climbed into the passenger side of his dad’s truck and set his thermos on the dash until he pulled on his seat belt. A glance out the windshield showed a tarp-covered shape to one side of the driveway. His dream car. His Mustang. He knew he had to sell it—driving a foot clutch was no longer an option—but, damn, he missed that car.
“So, you’ll get a new ’Stang,” his dad said as he started the truck. “One you can handle.”
Jake snorted. “How do you do that?”
Mike grinned. “I recognize that look. I had my own dream car once.”
“Oh yeah? What was it?”
“A ’75 Camaro.” He sighed. “I loved that car.”
“What happened to it?”
“Sold it and bought a van.” Mike started the truck and backed away from the garage.
Jake stared at his dad. “A van? What the heck…? Oh.” Jake felt his face grow hot. Though he knew his parents loved him and his younger brother and sister dearly, he also knew he hadn’t been planned. At least his dad had done the right thing and married his mom. And his parents really loved each other. It showed in everything they did, whether together or apart. Jake wondered what it would be like to have a love like that. One that endured through good times and bad, through everything life could throw at you.
“So who do you have working the roof?” he asked, more to change the subject than from any real interest in who was crewing the job.
“Lemuel Martin’s boys. They’ve been working out well for me, and they have the experience, even with slate.”
Jake remembered a couple of shy Amish kids, not young men old enough to do heavy construction. “How old are they?”
“The younger one just turned eighteen; the older is twenty. He’s been working for me off and on since you left.”
“Lem doesn’t need them at the farm?”
“They have three younger brothers and two sisters who help.” Mike shrugged and turned onto a wooded lot. Construction equipment and supplies lay everywhere. Jake saw his brother Sam’s truck but didn’t see Sam anywhere.
“Won’t you need the truck for the supply run?” Jake asked as he unbuckled his seat belt.
“No. I’ll use Sam’s. You go ahead.”
Mike climbed out of the truck and grabbed his coat and thermos. “Meet you at the diner for lunch?”
Jake grinned. His mom ran the local diner and made the best desserts this side of the Atlantic. She’d won so many blue ribbons at the county fair, the organizers had asked her to stop entering and become a judge, which she’d happily done. And the rest of her food was just as amazing. “Sounds good to me.”
The rest of the crew was arriving as Jake climbed into the driver’s seat. He waved at Lem’s boys in their dark clothes, heavy boots, and suspenders. They smiled at him and waved back as they set down their lunch pails and got ready to work.
“You remember where the place is?” Mike asked.
“Yes, Dad. It was my leg and arm that got hurt, not my head.” His dad winced, and Jake instantly regretted his words. “Sorry. Big green Victorian on the outer edge of town, at the top of the hill.”
“Yeah. The owner said he’d leave the keys under the doormat. Camera and equipment on the seat behind you.”
“You got it. See you at lunch.”
Jake headed for the multistoried Victorian mansion that sat on one of the largest lots in town. Huge stone pillars attached to thick walls sat on either side of the wide driveway. He pulled in and wound up the hill, stopping in front of the mansion. Overgrown shrubs and weeds hid what had once been immaculate gardens and expansive lawns. A sad, debris-filled fountain sat in front of the house. It hadn’t been maintained in a long time and would probably need to be replaced. The drive was cracked, with weeds growing up through the blacktop. He grabbed his clipboard and made a note. Technically, landscaping and paving weren’t something they handled, but he knew the best people who did. He’d suggest them to the owners. Before he went into the house, he decided to take a walk around the outside to see what kind of condition the exterior was in.
He climbed out of the truck and grabbed the camera from the back seat. Jake worked his way from the front of the house around the side to the back, taking pictures from several angles as he went. The yard was in even worse shape back here. He glanced around. At the end of the yard was the two-story brick carriage house. He headed there to see what kind of work it would need. The sliding barn doors hung askew, but overall the building looked to be in decent shape. Jake was passing the gap in the doors when he heard a noise. Someone moaning in pain, a sound he knew all too well. He went back to the doors. “Hello? Is someone there?”
He glanced in. Except for the narrow ribbon of light from the open doors, all was dark. But in that narrow ribbon, he spied a pair of legs splayed on the floor. His mind went into overdrive and he flattened against the splintered wood door. Sweat dotted his forehead and trailed down his back. He closed his eyes and blew out several heavy breaths. This was Robinwood, not some unpronounceable village in the desert. Still, it didn’t mean he had to be reckless. He pulled his phone from his shirt pocket and hit the flashlight app. Nerves stretched to their limits, he waited to hear any sound beyond the moaning of the person on the floor. When it went silent, Jake took the chance and looked in, shining his light in the space.
It was empty except for a man lying on the floor in a puddle of what smelled like wine, with a broken bottle next to him. Blood mixed with the wine. The man moaned once more, then was still.
Jake went in and dropped to the floor. His field experience kicked in. The guy lay on his stomach. He was still breathing, and his pulse was strong. There was a bad gash on the back of his head, probably from the bottle, but no other obvious injuries. Jake tore off his flannel shirt and tee. He folded up the tee and pressed it against the gash with one hand while he hit 9-1-1 on his phone with the other. He cradled the phone between his ear and shoulder so he could help the stranger.
“9-1-1. What is the nature of your emergency?” The woman’s voice on the other end was calm and reassuring. He wondered briefly if the emergency operators were hired based on their ability to stay calm.
“I’m calling from 751 South King Street, Robinwood. I need police and an ambulance. There’s a man injured. He’s breathing but unconscious, with a bad gash on the back of his head.”
“Police and ambulance are on their way. Have you stopped the bleeding?”
“Yes. Tell them we’re at the back of the property, in the carriage house.”
While he relayed information to the operator, Jake looked over the man. Dark hair with a touch of curl framed a handsome face with an angled jaw softened by light beard growth. He wore jeans and a long-sleeved polo shirt, both of which hugged his lean muscles. Something about his appearance drew Jake. He had a classically sculptured face and thin nose. In spite of the blood and dirt, he was absolutely gorgeous.
The stranger groaned and shifted around and Jake shook his head. What was he doing! The man was seriously hurt. The last thing he needed to be thinking about was how hot he was. Yeah, it had been a long time since he’d been with a man, but surely he wasn’t so desperate as to lust after some injured guy.
“Shh. Stay still. You’ve been hurt. Help is on the way.” As he said it, Jake could hear sirens and vehicles out front. That was one advantage of living in a small town.
“Hello?” a voice called from outside, making Jake jump. He shook off the nerves.
“In here!” Jake called.
A tall man in a navy blue cop’s uniform strode into the room, followed closely by two others wearing EMT suits and carrying emergency kits.
“What happened?” the cop asked as the EMTs took over. Jake struggled to stand and get out of their way. Then he got a good look at the cop.
“Tyler?” Jake leaned against the wall to take the weight off his leg and observe his old friend. Tyler White and he had grown up together, even dated a couple of times in high school, though they’d broken it off when they realized they were better friends than they were boyfriends. Like many old friends, they’d lost touch with each other over time. Jake was glad to see Tyler had followed his heart and gone into law enforcement. The years had been good to him. If anything, he looked better now than he had ten years ago, though his sandy blond hair was much shorter than he’d worn it in high school.
The cop widened his eyes at Jake, then broke into a smile. “Jake! I didn’t know you were back. How are…?” He glanced at the metal “ankle” sticking out of Jake’s pant leg and stuttered to a stop.
Jake shook down the leg of his jeans. He’d gotten that same reaction a lot since he’d returned. “Got back to the States a while ago, but I’ve been home just a few weeks.”
“Well, welcome back. So, what happened here?” Tyler’s face went serious as he studied the space and the stranger on the floor.
Jake shrugged as he watched the EMTs load the man onto a stretcher. “Not sure. I came here to do an estimate for a job. I was checking out the exterior and this building when I heard a noise. I found the guy on the floor.”
“So you didn’t see what happened? Nobody else around?”
“Not that I’m aware of, but I didn’t look in the other rooms or upstairs, or in the house.”
“Heavy woods leading to the creek out back, and I think this opens onto an old lane that connects with an alley. Could have gone anywhere,” Tyler said. “But I’ll have a couple of men check it out, and the house.”
The EMTs had loaded the man up on a gurney. Before they headed out the door, they paused and the woman turned to Tyler. “We’ll take him to Lancaster General. Wallet in his hip pocket IDs him as Alex Ford.” She handed the wallet to Tyler. “Still has a load of cash and cards in it, so not a robbery.”
“Unless Jake interrupted them. You get what you need?” Tyler asked.
“Yeah. Emergency contact was in there. Smart man.”
“Thanks, Traci. I’ll swing by the hospital when I’m done here.” He turned back to Jake. “Anything else you can tell me?”
Jake shook his head. “That’s pretty much it.”
“You think whoever did this was gone when you got here?”
“I didn’t hear or see anyone, so…. Yeah.”
Tyler nodded and headed out. Jake followed him into the yard. “Wait here while I check out the rest of the building and the house,” Tyler said.
“I’ll be at my truck.” Jake waited until Tyler was out of sight, then went around the house to the front. He grabbed a piece of two-by-four from his dad’s truck for an impromptu weapon and then headed into the house. Jake checked the rooms on the main floor as he went, though he was sure nobody was there. While he did, he thought about the man—Alex—and hoped he’d be all right.
Tyler joined him. “Told you to wait.”
Jake shrugged. “Nobody here and you know it.”
“I know, but… you always were one to take chances. Anyway, we checked and you’re right. The place is empty. Quite a collection down in those cellars. And tons of spots in this old place where someone could hide.”
“Jake?” It was his mother calling him. Elizabeth Cramer ran the local diner and rarely left the place during the day.
“Mom?” He did a double take when both his parents rushed into the front room and he glanced at Tyler, who shrugged and gave him a guilty grin. Of course Tyler would have called his folks.
“Jake? Are you all right?” His mom held him at arm’s length, studying him.
Oh. Right. The blood. “Mom, I’m fine. It’s not my blood. I wasn’t hurt. It was someone named Alex Ford.”
“Alex?” Mike said as he eyed Jake too. “That’s the owner. What happened?”
“Looks like someone broke in,” Tyler said. “Mr. Ford must have surprised the intruder and got knocked on the head. The EMTs took him to LGH. I did a quick check, and there’s no one here now.”
“Are you going to… um… check for fingerprints or stuff like that?” Jake asked.
Tyler snorted. “Place this old would have way too many for us to find anything useful. All we can hope for is that Ford saw whoever it was. We’ll check the broken bottle that was next to him, but there wasn’t much left of it.” He shrugged.
“Mr. Ford probably doesn’t know,” Jake said. “It looked like he was hit over the back of his head.”
“It was most likely just a random break-in,” Tyler said. “Much as I hate to say it, we’ll probably never catch who it was. It doesn’t look like anyone was squatting here, and there’s no other evidence of break-ins here or at the house. Doesn’t make sense, since the property’s been sitting empty for at least three years. Why now?”
“Good question,” Jake agreed. “You okay if we do what I actually came here to do?”
“Jake, you can’t!” his mother said. “What if that… person… comes back?”
“I’ll be here with him,” Jake’s dad said. “You okay with us being here, Tyler?”
“I guess. Just stay out of the carriage house. Be sure to lock up when you leave and let me know. I’ll leave a guy while you’re here and send a patrol around to keep an eye on the place.” He reached out to grasp Jake’s hand. “It really is good to see you. Welcome home. Call me sometime and we’ll go out for drinks.”
“Sure. Thanks.” Jake watched him go, wondering if Tyler was really serious about getting together or if he was just being polite. Probably just polite, he thought, but it would still be nice to reconnect with some old friends. He’d been hiding out for too long. At least that’s what his mother kept telling him.
“You should go home and get cleaned up and… where’s your shirt?” his mother asked, shock on her face.
Jake brought his attention back to his mom and laughed, the first good laugh he’d had in a while. “After all this, you just now notice I’m missing my shirt?” Elizabeth’s face turned red and she humphed at him. “I took it off to use as a pressure bandage until the EMTs got here. But you’re right. I do need to go home and clean up and get another shirt.”
“So that’s why Tyler was looking at you so amorously.”
“Mom!” Jake felt heat infuse his face. “Dad, I’ll be back in a few.”
His dad just laughed and waved him out. Jake climbed into the truck, more than a little grateful for his parents. When he’d come out to them as a teen, they’d accepted it with the same equanimity they had over anything. As much as he’d fretted about it, his being gay was a nonissue as far as they were concerned. Even his brother and sister had shrugged over his announcement. They’d been more upset at his deployment to the Middle East than they had over him being gay, even though his dad had been in the army as well. Or maybe because of that. He drove home, where he washed up and changed. A short time later he returned to the mansion, blood-free and wearing a clean shirt.
“Dad?” he called, his voice echoing through the empty house.
He looked around the massive foyer. A scuffed marble floor led to a wide staircase on one side and a hallway on the other. A huge chandelier hung from the second-floor ceiling, and twin sidelights enhanced the double carved wood doors. Mahogany, he thought as he ran his hand over the wood.
“I’m in the kitchen!” he heard his dad call. Jake headed back there, noting the tall baseboards and decorative detailing at the doorways.
“What do you have so far?” Jake asked as he entered the old-fashioned kitchen.
“I only had time to look over the furnace and electrical service downstairs. Monstrous old cast iron coal furnace down there, with a couple stalls half full of coal. That’ll all need to be taken out and a new system installed. The electrical and plumbing will all need to be upgraded as well. By the way, no lights down there, so watch it if you go down. I was just starting here.” He handed Jake the clipboard. “I’ll do the measuring; you do the notes.” He pulled out a laser device. “Oh, and Tyler stopped in. Said the second floor of the carriage house was awful. Probably vagrants squatting there. It’s going to take a strong stomach to clean the place up.”
“Ugh. Maybe that’s who attacked the guy.” Jake eyed the handheld device his dad was using. “Nice toy. And thanks for leaving the hard part for me. How come you never had neat gadgets like that before I left?”
He grinned at Jake. “Before you left, I didn’t need them. I had you. Now… it’s a heck of a lot easier and more accurate.”
“What about Sam?” Jake asked.
“It was his idea.”
Jake snorted. His brother’s favorite saying was “work smarter, not harder,” and he often took it to extremes. But the laser gizmo was a good idea. He flipped a page on the clipboard, marking the top of the new page with “Kitchen.”
“This place is amazing,” he said as they worked. “They don’t make woodwork like this anymore. And most of it’s still in decent shape.” He ran his fingers over the walnut trim framing the doorway. “We’ll probably be able to keep most of it.”
“I know, but it’s going to need a lot of work to upgrade this all to code,” Mike said.
“Yeah, but what a place it will be when it’s done.” Jake looked around the room, imagining it with updated appliances, new flooring, lighting, and granite countertops. “Maple would look good in here. Better than oak, I think. Either that or birch.”
“You’ll have to see what the owner says,” Mike said. “But I can’t disagree with you. Sounds like you’d like to have this place.”
Jake blew out a chuckle. “Yeah, and the money it’s going to take to do all this. Let’s get some pictures.”
Several hours later they broke for lunch and headed for the diner. The lunch rush was mostly done, and they slid into a booth with Sam. Elizabeth came over to them. “Roast beef special?”
Jake grinned. “Sounds great.”
“Same here,” Mike and Sam said together, and Elizabeth went to get the food.
While they waited, they discussed the pages of notes and digital pictures they’d taken. “I’ll write it up tonight when I get home,” Jake said. He’d taken over doing most of the estimates for the business, giving his dad and Sam more time to tend to the crews. Though he missed being with the men, he’d discovered a talent for drawing sketches and estimating. When he felt the need for more physical activity, he did finishing on cabinets and woodwork, his specialty.
He’d always known he was going to be a cabinetmaker—that was a given from the time he was ten. But he hadn’t planned on having to do it with only one good arm and leg. His injuries made things more difficult, but not impossible. It just took him a little more time.
“Jake, what do you have on tap for the rest of the afternoon?” Mike asked.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to go to the hospital to see how that guy is doing.” He did have some things to do, but nothing imperative. And he honestly did want to make sure Alex Ford was all right.
His dad cocked his head at him. “I’d really like you to get the table for the Rocker family finished. We promised it for next week.”
“And I will have it done by next week. All it needs is the final coating of finish. What’s the rush?”
Mike glanced at his arm, then back at his face, and Jake felt his frustration ramp up. If he had to work all night for the next few nights, he’d get the damned table done, as well as everything else. He didn’t care what it took. “The table will be finished on time, as will all the other jobs I’m working on. I’ve never missed a deadline, and I won’t now.”
Mike narrowed his eyes. “Fine. See that you don’t. I guess I can use your mom’s car. Sam needs his truck this afternoon.”
Jake swallowed his anger and glanced at Sam. “Something up?”
Sam laughed and shook his head. “No. Mary volunteered me to haul tables and chairs for the church this afternoon. Dad’s going to the site.”
Jake released a little more of his tension and smiled. Sam’s wife, head of the local food bank and thrift store, often “volunteered” them for various activities. “You need a hand?”
“Nah, she’s got it covered. Needs the truck more than she needs hands.”
“Sounds like her. Dad, it might be better if I drive Mom’s car and you take the truck. That way if you need anything, you can get it. Or be available if Sam finds out he needs another truck. Plus the car is easier to park in the downtown garages than the truck.”
“Works for me,” Mike said.
Elizabeth brought out their meals, joined them, and they dug into the succulent roast beef, mashed potatoes, and pan-roasted corn, finishing it off with slices of fresh blueberry pie.
After he finished Jake sighed and leaned back against the booth seat. “God, I missed your cooking, Mom.”
She grinned at him. “Nice to know.” She handed him her car keys. “Needs gas.”
Jake snorted. “Of course it does.” His mom was famous for running her car on fumes. She hated gas stations and avoided them whenever possible, forcing him and his dad to fill it up more often than not. “I’ll see you two at home later. Sam, give Little Mike a hug for me.”
“You need to come see us. Little Mike is missing his Uncle Jake. Maybe some night you can join us for dinner and do a bedtime story?”
“I’d love that. Let me know when. Catch you later.” Jake waved at them and left the redolent warmth of the diner. As he did, he heard what sounded like a shot and dove for the ground. When he realized it was only a car backfiring, he struggled to his feet, only to find his dad and brother staring at him. He brushed the dirt from his shirt but couldn’t brush the heat from his face as he got into his mom’s car. Great. That was all he needed… his family seeing him panic like that. But the sound… sometimes, he just couldn’t block it out. The noises like gunshots and bombs and screams, followed by pain.
He took a deep breath and blew it out, like the therapists had taught him, centering himself. He was home now, not in the middle of a war zone. He headed for the hospital and the handsome stranger, focusing his mind on who had hurt Alex Ford. Things like that didn’t happen in Robinwood. Who would have hurt him, and why?
About Vicki
Vicki Reese has been married forever to the one person who accepts that she lives in a fantasy world most of the time. She’s even been seen at the beach building worlds for her stories out of sand. In addition to creating fun characters, fantasy worlds, and suspenseful situations, she also enjoys and is very good at things like writing policy and procedures manuals and setting up continuity and organizational spreadsheets, both of which she has actually earned money doing. She has a master’s degree in library science so likes things organized. Okay, so her family thinks having the spice rack alphabetized it a bit much, but she has no trouble finding what she needs when she needs it. And just because her extensive library is cataloged and organized, that doesn’t mean she’s obsessive. Honest. When not writing, Vicki works as an editor, helping other authors with their manuscripts. When not doing either one of those, she can be found in the kitchen whipping up gluten-free, lactose-free, other allergy-free meals for her family. Or watching the world go by from her front porch swing.
Where to find Vicki:
