Her lips curved up. “No.”
He moved closer, looking down into her eyes. “Are you trying to tell me you don’t want to see me again?”
“No.”
“Because if you are, we need to get that straight right now.”
“I’m not, Sam. But I don’t want to assume there’s more between us than there is just because I feel...” Her voice trailed off.
He tipped his head to the side, studying her mouth, the full bottom lip that was begging to be kissed. “You feel...”
She shrugged.
He leaned forward and kissed her. Then he straightened again. “I’m not great at this. I don’t have much experience at going steady.”
“What about Alyssa?”
“That was different.” He’d been fond of Alyssa, had even loved her, maybe. But in all the time they’d been together, he’d not felt about her the way he felt right now about the woman standing before him. Alyssa had never made his heart race, and he’d never felt this overwhelming desire for her. It made him sad, partly, because they’d spent a long time together and he felt as if he owed her more than a simmering affection, but then he supposed there was no explaining chemistry.
“You want a casual relationship?” Ginger asked.
He slid a hand into her hair and tightened his fingers in the blond-and-copper strands, pressing her up against the counter. He had to make sure to keep any possessive feelings to himself, because he didn’t want her to see any of her ex in him. Equally, the thought of her seeing other men made him want to hunt down a pair of handcuffs and chain her to his bed.
“No,” he said.
She studied his face for a moment, looking into his eyes. A few seconds passed. He waited for her to frown, to tell him not to get all heavy on her, to even tell him to back off.
But she just said, “Okay.”
He loosened his hold on her hair and stepped back, puzzled by his feelings of relief. “Good.” He turned away and collected the toast from the toaster. “Got any jam?”
Chapter Fourteen
After they’d finished breakfast and Sam’s clothes were dry, they dressed and walked down to the bakery.
On the way, Sam held her hand. Ginger let him, saying nothing, but she couldn’t stop a warm glow spreading through her at the memory of his words in the kitchen. When she’d asked him whether he wanted a casual relationship, she’d been certain he’d say yes, maybe even look relieved. He hadn’t, though. In fact, something like a glint had appeared in his eyes, and his fingers had tightened involuntarily in her hair, even though all he’d said was, “No.”
She didn’t want to be with a man like Jack ever again, but she didn’t like the sound of what he’d had with Alyssa either. Surely, there was some middle ground? At least he seemed open to the idea of something more than a one-night stand or an open relationship. For that, she was relieved. There was plenty of time to discuss the details. For now, they had more important matters to deal with.
The world seemed brighter this morning, partly due, she was sure, to the fact that she’d had sex, and partly because everything looked squeaky clean from the rain. Signs of the power of nature were everywhere, though, from flattened grass to debris piled up where the overflowing river had dumped it. They fell silent as they approached the river and saw the damage it had done, with nearby fences hanging limp and broken, the doors of houses open wide to show soaked carpets and damaged furniture, even cars piled up at the bottom of the road. The river itself, although still high, had returned to its channel, running heavy and brown.
She glanced up at him as they walked down the hill, knowing he must be feeling ill at the thought of what he was going to find. His expression was unreadable, though, and he didn’t say anything as they cut down a side road, passed his car, which appeared undamaged, and rounded the corner onto The Strand.
As one, both of them stopped. The river had retreated, and the sea, while choppy, had stopped throwing waves across the road. But the whole seafront looked as if some giant had scooped it up, torn it to shreds, and then tossed it aside. The shells of the shops remained, but almost all the doors were missing, and the road was littered with debris. Ginger saw one of the bakery’s metal shelves lying on the sand, completely twisted out of shape—how had the river done that? All around were pieces of broken equipment, smashed plates, soaking utensils. Seeing a pile of soggy loaves heaped up in a corner made her want to cry.
Sam inhaled deeply, and she followed his gaze into the doorless bakery. It was worse than she’d thought. Even though she’d been thigh-deep in water the previous night, she’d hoped that with some industrial dryers it would just be a matter of replacing a few shelves and most of the equipment. She hadn’t considered there might be structural damage.
The whole front counter had vanished. She looked around but couldn’t see any sign of it. The river had ripped it up, carried it out of the shop, and whisked it away. With it, it had taken half the wall, so that what remained was a sodden mess of broken plaster and brickwork.
“Careful,” a man said out the front, handling a piece of glass with gloved hands. “I’m sorry, Sam. It’s pretty bad in there.”
Sam barely glanced at him. He stepped over a heap of splintered wood in the doorway and went into the shop. Ginger followed him, treading carefully, and giving a weak smile to the man who continued removing the glass from the window of the shop next door.
The whole shop was a mess, full of cracked wood and shards of glass. Sam glanced around, not saying anything, then walked across the broken tiles to the doorway leading into the main bakery. He disappeared inside, and Ginger went after him, her heart in her mouth.
She stood in the doorway and pressed her fingers to her lips as tears welled in her eyes. The ovens remained, although half the doors were open, water dripping from the insides. The large table Sam tended to work at was still there, although it had been carried across the room, and lay on its side. All but one of the metal shelving units had tipped over, and most of them were bent or broken. The room was emptier than she’d expected—the majority of the equipment had been swept away, no doubt through the huge hole that now existed in the wall at the back of the bakery.
“Holy shit.” She walked over to it, and Sam followed. “What the fuck did that?”
He peered through. “I guess it was that.”
She leaned over and gasped at the sight of a car leaning against the wall, upside down, just a few feet away. “It must have been swept across the window.”
Footsteps sounded behind them, and they turned to see Piri walking into the bakery. He stopped as he saw them. “Sam!”
“Hey.” Sam turned and walked across the debris-ridden floor. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Piri shoved his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders as he looked around. “I was going to start clearing it out but someone said you might need to take photos for the insurance. I wasn’t sure what to do...”
Ginger watched Sam walk right up to him and put his arms around the younger man. She fought back more tears as they bear-hugged.
She cleared her throat as they pulled apart, both obviously struggling with emotion. “Piri’s right. We have to think about the insurance first. Sam, you should call them and lodge the claim and find out when they can send an inspector around, and then we can start taking photos.”
“All my paperwork is in the house,” he said, looking through the gap in the wall at the house at the bottom of the garden.
“Come on, then. We might as well find out all the bad news in one go.” She took his hand and led him, unprotesting, across the bakery and out through the back door.
The grass of the lawn looked as if someone had walked across it with a massive roller. Every blade was flattened. All George’s carefully tended bushes were bent or broken or even missing completely. Neither of the fences remained.
They walked up to the house. Ginger blew out a long breath. The water had entered the house, but she could see immedia
tely that it wasn’t quite as bad as the bakery. The carpet would need drying out, and maybe some of the furniture might need replacing, but as they entered the kitchen, they found most of it relatively untouched.
Sam ran a hand through his hair at the sight of his father’s armchair, the bottom six inches or so of it soaked through.
“It can be dried,” Ginger said in a matter-of-fact voice. “At least he was safe.”
“I should call him,” he said. “Tell him what it’s like.”
“Why don’t I ring Fred and see how they all are up there while you look for the insurance details?” she suggested. He nodded, so she pulled out her phone and dialed Fred’s mobile number while he started rummaging through the drawers in the desk at one end of the living room.
“Hey, Ginger!” Fred must have seen her name on the screen. “I was just about to call you. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. How are you all doing up there?”
“We’re okay.” Fred blew out a relieved breath. “A big leak in one of the B&B bedrooms, but Mac’s there now, sorting that out. A door blew open in the restaurant but Sandi’s mopped up the worst of it, and there’s no damage we can see. A few bits and pieces ended up in the vineyard. It was pretty wild.”
“Tell me about it. I’m in the bakery.”
“Oh God, how is it?”
Ginger glanced at Sam’s back as he started talking into his mobile, and she walked outside. “Oh Fred, it’s awful. It’s completely ruined. I was hoping they’d just be able to dry it out and it would be all right, but there’s a massive hole in the wall where a car was smashed against the window...”
“A car?”
“I know, you wouldn’t believe it unless you saw it, and everything’s ruined. Sam’s talking to the insurance company now.”
“Oh, the poor guy. Was he there all night?”
“Um, no, he stayed the night with me.”
“Oh?”
“Don’t start.”
Fred gave a short laugh. “Later, then. Are you both coming up here?”
“Maybe later. I’ll stay and help him for a while. Piri’s here too. After we’ve taken some photos, we can start clearing up.”
“You want us to come down?”
“Not if you have stuff to do. I’m sure you’ll want to check out the vineyard.”
“Well look, we’ll see what the time is when we’re done. I’m sure Mac will want to help.”
“Okay. Oh, how’s George?”
“He’s okay. He seems to have aged since the last time I saw him. He’s very shaky on his pins, isn’t he?”
“Mmm.” Ginger had thought the same thing. “Look, maybe you don’t want to tell him too much just yet. Perhaps let Sam give him the full rundown when he sees him?”
“Yeah, all right.”
“Is it okay if George stays there today?”
“Of course. Sandi has a spare room all week so he can stay as long as he wants. I’ll tell him we need someone to look after Scully if we come into town,” Fred said, referring to Mac’s German Shepherd.
“All right. Catch you later.” Ginger hung up.
She took a few photos of the garden with her phone, making sure to record the broken fences and any other irreparable damage, and then started clearing, placing the rubbish to one side, hoping to make it a bit less shocking for George when he eventually came home.
It was another ten minutes before Sam came out. “I’ve logged the claim,” he said. “They’re going to send someone out to inspect the damage later this week. But I can start clearing up, as long as I take photos of everything first.”
“I’ve already done that in the garden. We can both take photos of the bakery and then sort out the best ones for the insurance.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked around. “I can’t believe it.”
She walked up to him and slid her arms around him. “I know. I’m so sorry.”
He stood stiffly for a moment, then put his arms around her and rested his cheek on the top of her head. “How’s Dad?”
“He’s fine. He can stay at the vineyard until the house is ready.”
“They’re going to send a local carpet-cleaning service around today. I guess it’s best if they start in the house and get that done first.”
“The damage doesn’t look too bad there,” she said.
“No.” He turned his head to look at the bakery, resting his other cheek on her hair. “I don’t think a few dryers are going to sort that out.”
“No. I suppose we’ll have to clear out what we can and see what the insurance company comes up with.”
He moved back and looked down at her. She stared up into his eyes, thinking of how they’d made love that morning. It had been so different to the night before, in the dark, when she’d only been able to focus on herself, and on the sensations he’d aroused in her. This morning, he’d fixed his gaze on hers and had refused to let her look away, and she’d known he was watching her when she came.
“You don’t have to stay here,” he said. “I don’t expect you to.”
“I know.” She took his hand. “Come on. Let’s take the photos, and maybe we can send Piri to see if any of the cafes in town are serving coffee.”
Chapter Fifteen
They spent the rest of the day working. They took heaps of photos, then rolled up their sleeves and started clearing the debris. First, they did what they could in the house, as Sam wanted his father to be able to return home as soon as he could. They removed all the damp rugs and as much of the furniture as they could manage, storing it in the garage, which had luckily escaped the flow of the river. The carpet-drying company arrived late morning, and Sam left the two guys sucking up the worst of the water in their big vacuum cleaners while he set to work on the bakery.
He didn’t say anything to Piri or Ginger, but his heart felt heavy as he cleaned and carried the debris outside. This wasn’t going to be a simple matter of mopping up a few puddles and turning on a dryer for a few days. The whole bakery looked structurally unsound. The car that the river had carried must have been pinned lengthways across the window, because it had broken the wooden frame and taken with it half the bricks that surrounded it. Sam didn’t like to think of the force it had taken to do that. There was another hole on the other side of the bakery where the water had ripped away a section of pipework, taking part of the wall with it. And the shop was a complete mess, with a portion of the building missing along with the main counter.
No amount of tidying and clearing was going to get the bakery up and running again. The whole place was going to need to be rebuilt.
He wanted to just sit in a corner and put his head in his hands, but Ginger and Piri were like forces of nature, determined to help him put as much right as they could. Piri’s uncle was able to source several skips, which they set up outside the shops, and they began clearing the rubbish, removing broken pottery, damaged utensils, splintered wood, old bricks, and any equipment that was beyond repair, after taking photographs.
As the morning wore on, people began appearing, the community coming together to help clear up. All the owners of the surrounding shops were there, along with their families, and those who didn’t have damage to their buildings came to help the ones who had. Jace Hart, the lawyer, turned up with some friends, and around eleven, Mac, Fred, and Sandi arrived, along with another half a dozen people who worked at the vineyard.
Around lunchtime, someone set up a few tables outside, and people began bringing food—whatever they had in their shops or at home, to feed those who were working—pies, sandwiches, sausage rolls, fruit from the garden, even a lasagna, heated and served up on paper plates.
Tens, if not hundreds, of thousands of dollars of damage had been done, and some of the shops like Sam’s were ruined, but the mood was oddly upbeat on the most part, with the combined effort making everyone feel that if nothing else, at least they weren’t alone.
Sam, while usually a glass-half-full kind of guy,
was having trouble seeing the bright side. He knew he should feel good when he stood there and looked around at his friends and all the locals who were helping him clean up. Already, about a quarter of the bakery had been emptied of rubbish and swept. Mac, Jace, and their friends had removed the larger pieces of wood and metal shelving from the rest of the room, while the girls had set to sorting out which pieces of equipment were salvageable.
But all he could see was how much was left to do. He was dreading having to tell George the extent of the damage. His father was going to be devastated that the building which had stood for nearly two hundred years had been destroyed in one fell swoop.
It was great to see everyone helping. But tomorrow they’d have to return to their own lives and businesses, and it would just be him and maybe Piri, wrangling with the insurance company, taking days, months, if not years, trying to get the place back the way it had once been.
“Where do you want this?” Mac stopped in front of him, carrying a large food mixer. It was a remnant from Sam’s youth—his father had used it when he’d shown him how to make the oatmeal cookies all those years ago in their kitchen. It was too small to play much of a part in the bakery, but he’d kept it for nostalgic reasons. It had been on one of the shelves that had tipped over, and the top bit was now bent.
“Throw it in the skip,” Sam said, feeling nauseous.
Mac looked at it. “Are you sure? It’ll probably work if I straighten it up a bit.”
“I don’t want it. Throw it away.”
Mac’s gaze came back to him, and he studied him for a moment. Sam looked away, out through the front door to the sea. He’d always loved living near the ocean, it had been one reason he’d wanted to work on the cruise liner, but today he wished he were in the middle of an African desert, miles from any water.
Mac put down the mixer and indicated at the door with his head. “Come outside for a bit.”
Sam shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans. They felt tight—Ginger had tumbled them, and he wondered whether they’d shrunk. Saying nothing, he followed Mac across the bakery and out into the sunshine.
As Beautiful as the Bay Page 10