by LM Spangler
Nana rose. “Colt, my boy. Come here and give me a kiss.”
Colt obliged with a warm smile. He may’ve been tall and muscular, but he was a Nana’s boy.
She opened her arms to Summer and she obliged as well.
“Please sit,” Nana offered.
“I can only stay a few minutes. Jolene had an early meeting with her counselor. She might not make it in time to open the store. I told her to take her time.” She slid her truck keys over to Colt. “Take my truck. I’ll catch a ride to Nana’s with Raine.”
Colt snagged the keys before they reached the edge of the table.
Nana focused on Summer. “How’d your date go?”
She snorted. “I’m more confused than ever.”
Raine placed a travel cup in front of her sister. “High octane. You look tired as all get-out.”
Summer leaned her head back until it rested on Raine’s belly. “I am tired as all get-out.”
“And confused,” Colt added.
Quick as lightning, Summer jabbed two fingers between his ribs.
“Ow.” He rubbed his side. “What was that for?”
“For being a non-helpful pain in my ass.”
“Now, children,” Nana chastised, stopping brother and sister with two words.
Both Summer and Colt looked down at the table. “Yes, ma’am,” they muttered in unison.
Summer was about to say that Colt started it, when Colt’s gaze went to something behind her. His eyes softened, creating little creases at their corners. Summer had no need to turn around. She knew Sage Whitley had entered the building.
A shy smile spread across his face and grew bigger as the seconds past. Sage, and likely her sister, Brynne, must’ve been heading toward the table.
“Hi, guys,” Sage greeted when she stopped at the table. Her gaze went to Colt. “Hi, Colt. How long are you here for?”
He swallowed hard enough for Summer to see it. “Hi, Sage. Brynne. I’ll be here for a couple of weeks. I came down to help a buddy rebuild his deck.”
Summer wasn’t afraid to admit when another woman was beautiful, and Sage was just that...beautiful. The shorter sister, Sage was blessed with gentle, alluring curves and long, shining blonde hair to her mid-back. Her sister Brynne was at least six inches taller and had curling, caramel blonde hair that swept her shoulders and a curvier figure.
“Catch any big ones lately, Colt?” Sage asked.
“An extra-fine grade, five-carat Colombian emerald found among a handful of other emeralds.”
Pride ran through Summer. Colt had been the sibling who wasn’t afraid to spread his wings and fly away from Dover. After a few short flights, and some schooling to become a certified gemologist, he landed at Huxbey’s Diamond and Gemstone Exchange in New York City. Though Huxbey’s didn’t deal in the same volume as Tiffany’s and some others, it dealt in high-grade gemstones. Some of which were commissioned. Between his salary and commission, he made six figures per year.
Brynne whistled through her teeth. “Nice. Salary?”
“Commission, twenty percent.”
“Nice,” Sage said with raised brows. “Almost makes me want to change jobs, but I have issues with walking into a den of conflict diamonds.”
“Such troublesome work,” Nana admitted.
Colt nodded. “Most profitable work. It can get hairy sometimes, but I have yet to be kidnapped or murdered.”
Summer shook her head. “That’s good to know, you dork.” She went in for the kill and was about to strike him between his ribs again, but he was a quick learner and deflected the attack.
Raine laughed. “You two haven’t grown up yet, have you?”
Summer shrugged. “Why would we want to do that?” She rose. “I have to open the store. I have a couple of special orders I need to put together.” She kissed Nana, Colt, and Raine, bid goodbye to the Whitley sisters, and left with her coffee to begin her day.
* * * *
“Thanks for coming on such short notice, Mr. Deveraux.”
Deveraux General Contracting had been recommended by one of Autumn’s friends. Ian glanced around the space that would soon be the sales floor. This was the first step in opening the music store.
“Call me Cale.” His tone was slow, easy, and laid-back. “And no problem, Mr. Jacobs. You’ll be our first job in this area. I’m originally from the Baltimore area. We’ve done jobs in both states, but we haven’t been this far up yet.”
“My friends call me Ian. What brought you upstate?” Ian appreciated honesty, and Cale laid all his cards on the table. Ian, thanks to his experience with alcohol and its fallout, didn’t like fake people. He’d portrayed one for two years. On the outside, he was the rock and roll star, but on the inside, he was a pitiful, out-of-control drunk.
“Well,” Cale began as he removed his DGC hat and ran a hand through his blond hair before replacing the baseball cap. “My grandfather moved here about seven years ago. He’s developing arthritis and can’t tend to the animals on his small farm as well as he used to. He and my grandma saved me from foster care, so it was best to move here.”
The man had a strong sense of family, something Ian was envious of. Ian’s aunt and uncle had bled him dry before he caught on and pressed charges. They took him in when his mom passed and his dad took a one-way ride to whiskeyville. There was no love, just a sense of duty for his aunt and uncle, and Ian’s graciousness for them taking him in.
And he was stupid enough to ruin what he had with Summer. He’d found love and acceptance with her, only to throw it away as he took his own ride to whiskeyville.
“Do you mind if we do a walk-through? I’d like to get some ideas of what you’re looking for and see if it’s possible spatially.”
Ian pulled a folded piece of paper from his jeans pocket. “Autumn suggested I do some homework and draw what I wanted.” He unfolded the paper and handed it to the contractor.
“Wow,” Cale said, the surprise evident in his voice. “I wish everyone was as exact as you are, Mr...uh...Ian.”
“Yeah, well. After dinner last night, I came here and had to drain my brain. Do something that would occupy my mind. Make me forget some...things for a while.”
“This is a huge help.” Cale pulled a tape measure from one of the leg pockets of his cargo pants and a small notebook from the back pocket. “Let’s get going.”
“Yes!” Excitement zinged through Ian as he rubbed his hands together.
This was it. The rest of his life started now. He might not be able to take the fast life in Los Angeles, but he could revamp his life here. Pass his love of music to the young Ian Jacobs’ of the world. Teach them to love music, teach them discipline, and make them feel good about themselves. But most of all, he’d keep kids away from drugs and alcohol and turning into what he did.
Two hours later, Cale Deveraux left with Ian’s sketch and measurements with the promise of a design as soon as tomorrow. Ian recalled that the postman had delivered something to the store, which struck him as peculiar because he hadn’t registered the new address with the post office yet. He had planned to walk over to the post office after his meeting with the contractor.
To his surprise, a medium-sized box wrapped in plain brown paper had been leaned against the wall next to the front door. A small wave of unease washed over him. Ian carried it into the store and laid it on the counter, which he had chosen to keep along with some display stands that could be fixed up with a few cans of spray paint. The rest of the store had been emptied the day before. Turning the package around, he found no return address. His name and the store address were scripted in the same handwriting as the speedometer. Shaking the parcel didn’t help him figure out what it could be.
With a shake of his head, he removed the plain paper wrapping. A nondescript cardboard box gave little insight into its secrets. Using a box cutter, he sliced through the packing tape, reached inside, and removed the object surrounded by Styrofoam peanuts.
Staring in disbelief, he
turned the broken rearview mirror in his hands.
“What the hell? Who would send me this?” It didn’t make any sense to him.
Not sure what to make of it, he placed it in the box and tossed it on the counter.
“Has to be some kind of joke.” He wasn’t laughing though.
Nothing could be done inside, so he walked outside. The corners of his mouth curled upward when he spotted Summer in a smock washing her windows.
Underneath the frock was a shapely form. His blood sizzled through his body whenever he envisioned her and her beautiful figure. Tall and willowy. No part of her was large, but perfectly proportioned for her height. Softly curving hips, average-sized chest, and a small waist reminded him of a dancer. Elegant and graceful.
He carried that vision of her as he walked home to prepare for his first AA meeting. Having no idea how these meetings worked, he wanted his mind fresh and clear. Taking the step of selecting a contractor and getting that ball rolling was one task off his mind.
With another glance at Summer, he knew he had much more work to do before the pieces of his life would fall into place. His home was the first piece, the music store was the second. Attending AA meetings was the third.
Getting Summer back would complete the puzzle.
And his life.
* * * *
“I ought to smack you alongside the head,” Summer threatened as she walked into Nana’s house.
Autumn fluttered her eyelashes. “Who? Me?” she asked, her voice dripping sugar-sweet.
“Ugh,” Raine moaned as she stepped around both sisters. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
Colt’s head popped around the corner of the kitchen area. “Chick fight!”
Summer laughed. “Nah. I wouldn’t fight Autumn. She’s a scrapper. Short and shifty.”
Colt frowned. “Oh. Pity.”
“Colt, behave.” Nana’s voice carried down the entrance hall.
Autumn snickered when he mumbled, “Sorry, Nana.”
The three women filed into the kitchen and sat on stools set around the white beadboarded island. Nana placed a glass of wine in front of Autumn, a beer for Colt, a steaming hot cocoa for Raine, and a hot cup of chamomile tea for Summer.
“The reason I called a meeting was to discuss your parents’ visit and...” She looked directly at Summer. “We need to help Summer with the whole Ian incident.”
Summer groaned and pouted in response, which Nana ignored. Summer didn’t want to discuss the conundrum that was Ian.
“Your parents will be here over the Labor Day holiday. They’d like to avoid children being off for the summer. Less hassle.”
“Makes sense. I’ll come back down for their visit,” Colt said.
Nana nodded. “They’ll stay with me while they’re here.”
The group nodded their approval.
“Now onto Summer’s problem,” Nana announced.
Dreading the inevitable, Summer started the conversation. “I’m not sure if he is a problem or not, and that’s the problem.”
Colt snickered and gulped a mouthful of beer. “I’m glad I’m not drunk or that sentence would’ve confused the heck out of me.”
“Why are you fighting it?” Raine asked. “You love him.”
Summer’s mouth opened to protest, but she quickly shut it. Raine’s statement, those three words, were like Cupid’s arrow, piercing her, shooting the truth from her heart and to her brain. She couldn’t protest something that was true.
“I do still love him. I just don’t like him very much. If that makes any sense.” She shrugged, brought the cup to her lips, and sipped the delicate golden brew. Usually calming, the tea did nothing but burn her tongue. “Damn it, I did it again.”
Nana slid her glass of water toward Summer. “Made perfect sense to me, child.” She reached across the island and laid her hand atop her granddaughter’s. “It’s his sudden departure that is troubling you, isn’t it?”
Summer stared at Nana’s hand for a moment. Thinning skin drew attention to the liver spots—the most visible sign of her age. Otherwise, facially, Nana had barely a wrinkle, only some lines around her eyes.
It was the sudden leaving, not saying goodbye, screw you, or anything for that matter that crushed her. A tear escaped and fell onto Nana’s hand. “Yes. I thought he loved me. If he really loved me, would he have just up and left? He said he still loves me.” She pulled her hand from Nana’s and threw both into the air. “I don’t know what to believe.”
“I believe he still loves you.” Nana’s tone was matter-of-fact. “Let me tell you about why he left in such a hurry. His aunt and uncle had been offered a chance to move to California into a house purchased by Urban Flood’s record label. The catch was they had to leave immediately so the band could integrate Ian for a show he’d only have four days to prepare for. Ian was torn between you and the band. His aunt and uncle talked him into leaving immediately, thinking they had his best interests in mind. That’s part of the reason I never spoke to them again. The situation was strange, to say the least. But you got hurt in the process. I will never, ever forgive them.” Passion swirled in Nana’s silver-blue eyes. “I strongly believe you were the reason he returned to Dover. He wants to make it right.”
Autumn nodded. “He reached out to me about a return to town. He explained the situation to me. I got the vibe that he had to return. I need to read people in a matter of moments, it goes with the job, and that’s what I felt.” She laughed softly. “Hence, my plan to throw you two together. I wanted to see your responses. However,” she said as she sipped her white zinfandel, “I hadn’t anticipated violence.”
“I imagined it was you I was pushing. Worked like a charm,” Summer replied before sniffling delicately. “I hate crying.”
Colt coughed and hacked on his swig of beer. Raine pounded on his back. “Argh,” he sputtered. “Autumn,” he said, his voice catching in his throat, creating a rather unmanly squeak. He coughed one last time. “You’re devious and conniving.” He caught his breath. “I approve.”
“I wish I knew what to do.” Summer rose, walked to the French doors, and slipped into the night.
Deep blues and purples painted the sky, while the full moon shown in the opposite direction. A chill raced over her as she stepped to the rail of Nana’s deck and leaned her elbows on it. Small bats flitted about the night, having emerged from their fall and winter slumber. Mid-May temperatures were still cool, but as the bugs—the bat’s main source of sustenance—began to fly about, so did the flying mammals. Nature’s circle of life.
“You’ll catch a chill, my love,” Nana said as she leaned against the railing beside Summer, who shrugged in response. “I know this isn’t easy for you.” Nana shifted and leaned shoulder to shoulder with her granddaughter. “But you’re the only one who can figure it out.”
“And this is helping me how?” Summer’s head dropped to Nana’s shoulder.
Nana lowered her head to rest on Summer’s. “You, my dear, have to decide whether he is worth a second chance at forever.”
And that was the million-dollar question.
Forgive and forget?
Or drive him away?
* * * *
The full moon cast the night into shimmering silver, mixing with the harsh yellow light of the street lamps. Between both, Ian had no problems strolling along Main Street to the Lutheran church.
It was almost seven-thirty, which was the start of his first meeting. Nervous energy bounced around inside him, like atoms striking one another, zinging about.
A lone man moved from the sidewalk and strolled down the walkway to the back entrance to the church. Ian was sure it was the guy from the diner the previous night.
“Huh. Small world,” Ian mumbled as he walked to the basement.
He entered a small classroom, which looked like it was used for middle-age children’s Sunday school. Long buffet tables lined one wall, offering a variety of beverages and snacks. Ian found a seat. The man f
rom the diner sat opposite him and focused his attention on Ian. An odd look of infatuation lit the man’s eyes.
A man sat on a chair located in the center of the circle. He cleared his throat. “It’s straight up seven-thirty. Why don’t we get started?” He waited a few beats until everyone was seated. “Good evening. My name is Marshall Q. I’ve been an alcoholic for twenty years, and sober for ten of those years. We have two new members tonight. Please stand and introduce yourself.”
Ian and the man from the diner rose, who went first.
“My name is Junior C. I’ve been an alcoholic for ten years and sober only for a year.”
He was welcomed by the group and then sat again.
“My name is Ian J. I’ve been an alcoholic for two years, and I’m just beginning the road to sobriety.”
He, too, was welcomed.
Marshall started the discussion. To Ian’s surprise, all the members, including him, partook in the conversation. One particular man’s story struck a chord deep inside Ian. The man had lost his wife, kids, his home, and even his job. He spoke of going from a six-figure salary to living off public assistance. His wife divorced him, taking the house and kids. He’d lost it all. The ex-wife remarried and his children loved their non-drunkard stepfather.
The story hit home with Ian. That was where his life could end up. A life without Summer. That was unacceptable.
From that moment forward, he vowed to himself that nothing in his life would ever be more important than Summer.
After the meeting ended, he strolled home, feeling like he could take on the world. And he planned to hang onto that feeling.
Inspiration struck, and he quickened his pace until he reached his house, breezing through the front door, and not bothering to lock it. His Armani suit coat ended up on the floor where he slid it off his shoulders. He opened the basement door and raced down the stairs.
His favorite acoustic guitar with its curving, graceful lines and natural wood tones, stood on its stand next to three electric guitars. He lowered himself onto the leather sectional. No throw pillows or soft, knitted blankets. Only concert posters on the utilitarian white walls.