Ten minutes later, her parents had wiped their faces, brought their emotions under control, and Mrs. Slotky invited the two of them to dinner. Emma declined.
At the door, she said, “Okay, thank you both for listening to my concerns. I'm happy, Dad, that you're taking them seriously. But in parting I have to say I think we're going down the wrong path.”
Her dad chuckled and patted her on the back. “Objection duly noted, daughter dear. But your mom has faith in me that I will make some positive changes, as you said, and I'm asking for the same faith from you.”
Instead of replying, she waved and walked outside. Jeremy turned to say his good-byes to Mr. Slotky, but the man had already turned his back.
* * *
A few days passed quickly, filled with the day-to-day operation of Jeremy's furniture business. He settled into the fast-paced routine of a one-man shop. He did it all: marketing, customer relations, sales, design, building and delivering. He was living his dream. Business was good and being busy was a happy consequence of that reality.
Saturday morning, he dressed and showered early. He grabbed a banana on the way through the kitchen and poured a large glass of water on ice, then headed out to his work tarp in the backyard. He had plans to see Emma tonight but had all day to work. He had two projects planned: put the final stained color on a coffee table that he'd sanded yesterday. It was so soft it almost felt like velvet to his fingertips, and the stain would put the finishing touch on that piece. While it dried in the sun, he'd get his drafting pencil and paper out and design a bookshelf for a new customer. The shelf would be custom made to fit in a nook underneath a spiral staircase and he had a few ideas to make it an innovative piece.
Outside, he pulled his canvas covers off the coffee table. He folded them in half, then half again, turned back to the table … and froze. He stepped closer, turned his head to look up at the bright sun. Could the rays possibly be playing tricks with his eyes? He ran a hand over the surface of the table. An ugly, jagged gash marred the top.
He stood motionless, evaluating the implications. Someone had come to his house, snuck around to the back, uncovered his latest work, used a metal tool to destroy it, then covered it back up as if nothing had happened, then escaped. Completely undetected.
He burst into a fit of activity. He had at least four other pieces in various stages of construction. Had those been attacked as well?
He flipped a tarp off a dresser in its early stages. He studied every inch of it. Nothing.
He moved to a queen-sized headboard and footboard in cherry, leaning against the dresser, covered with another set of tarps. No apparent damage.
He went through the rest of his inventory and although the majority of his pieces were unharmed, the last item he uncovered was a long kitchen table with pedestal legs. A long, angry splintered ridge was gouged into the surface.
Jeremy tossed the tarps and stumbled away. A buzzing attacked his ears, increasing in sound so much that he couldn't hear anything else outside of it. An anxiety attack was coming on, but he knew how to control those now, or at least had some tips from Neil.
He bent over at the waist, forcing the blood into his head. He took long, solid breaths, evenly in and out. He straightened and stretched his arms, his legs, circled his neck. The worst of it past, he concentrated on his problem.
Vandalism. It wasn't a good problem to have, but he certainly wasn't the first business owner to deal with it. Pesky, that's all it was. He could deal with it. He walked over to the two affected pieces. He studied them, ran his fingers into the gouges.
No, there was no way he could salvage these. He'd have to cut his losses on the inventory, materials and his time, and move on. He'd be behind schedule now, having to re-do two nearly completed pieces. He would make calls to his customers and explain. And hope they'd understand.
But a more troubling implication popped into his mind. He couldn't work here in his backyard anymore. It wasn't secure. He needed four walls and a door, and a place to lock up his inventory and materials at night. Someplace he needn't worry about vandals.
What about his finished stock? The vandal evidently knew he did his work here at home — did he also know he stored inventory at Marianne's Inn? One way to find out.
He circled the house to the pickup truck, then drove it around to the backyard. He hoisted each of the pieces into the bed of the pickup and jumped into the cab.
A few minutes later, he pulled into the Seaside Inn, and drove around the side to his shed under the Inn on stilts. He left the truck there, then walked around the back, up the wooden stairs on to the sundeck, and entered the Inn through the sun porch.
January wasn't a hopping month for guests, but Marianne attracted a modest “snowbird” crowd; retired couples who lived in the Midwest or northeast, and escaped the snow and cold of their region to stay at the Inn for a month at a time. Marianne loved her senior guests, and they tended to come back year after year.
The last thing he'd meant to do by entering unannounced through the back door was to alarm anyone, but that's exactly what he'd done. A gray-haired woman sat on the sun porch, facing the beach, enjoying a home baked muffin and a cup of coffee. She looked at him, shrieked and jumped in her seat. Her muffin took a dive to the floor.
“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, ma'am!” He went to her side, knelt and scooped up the muffin and tossed it in a trash bin. “Let me get you another.” He spied the basket full on a side table and selected one that looked identical to the other, wrapped it in a napkin and handed it to her.
“My word, son, you startled me.”
“Yes, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. Very careless of me. I should've announced myself.”
“Are you a guest here?” The old lady now peered at him over the tops of her glasses, clutching the muffin.
“No, ma'am, I'm family. I'm Marianne's brother, Jeremy.” He held his hand out.
She fluttered a hand in front of her face. “Mercy me.”
Marianne entered the porch holding a coffee pot. She noticed him and he was relieved to see her face light up with joy. Maybe the lady would believe him now, and calm down. “Jeremy! What a nice surprise!” She pulled him into a hug and squeezed him, patting him on the back.
“I startled your guest by coming in through the back.”
Marianne let him go and smiled at the old woman. “Oh, Mrs. Robins, I'm so sorry he startled you. But he's welcome anytime. He's my big brother. I'm so glad you had a chance to meet him. Jeremy, Mr. and Mrs. Robins have stayed with us three winters in a row now. They love Pawleys and getting away from upstate New York winters.”
Mrs. Robins rose and waved her departure, taking her coffee and muffin into the great room. Jeremy watched her leave, then turned to his sister. “I didn't mean to scare her.”
“Of course you didn't. Don't worry about it.”
“Did you tell her about my, uh, background?”
Marianne frowned at him. “Why would I do that?”
Jeremy shrugged. “I just wondered if part of her reaction had to do with being startled by an ex-con.”
Marianne punched him on the arm, dismissing his concerns. “Want some breakfast?”
“No. Do you have a minute to come see something?”
She followed him outside and around to the truck. He jumped up into the bed and held a hand out, helping her climb up. She spotted the vandalized piece right away and gasped, “Oh Jeremy! What happened?” She rubbed her fingers in the damaged wedges in the wood.
“Vandal. Woke up this morning and found two pieces like this, attacked by a tool, I'm guessing a chisel of some sort. Gouged enough of a wedge in the wood that I can't possibly repair them. I'm going to have to start over on this coffee table, and this kitchen table here.” He pointed to it.
“Oh, my gosh. How much in damages?”
He did a quick calculation in his head. “About eight hundred for both these pieces together. And probably … five days wasted.”
Marianne shook her head
, her face scrunched as she tried to hold in tears. “Who would've done something like this?”
He laid a hand on her shoulder. Leave it to his sis to feel his pain nearly deeper than he did. “I don't know. I'll have to give it some thought. I mean, I guess it could be old enemies, people who haven't forgiven or forgotten. It's the price I pay for my past.”
“That's not fair,” she said with a vengeance.
He smiled sadly and gave her a look that said what words didn't have to. “I love having your support, but honestly, this is not a disaster. I'll just have to be more careful in the future. First, let's look at my stock here. If someone broke in here and damaged furniture, it gets way more personal. The thought of someone with a chisel this close to you and Stella …” He dropped off the thought, and jumped off the truck bed, turning and helping her down.
Fifteen minutes later, they'd uncovered all the furniture pieces he was storing in the shed and both were relieved to discover that not one had been touched. Reassuring, but not enough. He needed to make some changes.
“First thing I need to do is look around for a building, or at least a part of one. I could use it for a workshop, but also a storefront to draw customers in. Then I gotta transport all these inventory pieces over there, and stop luring danger to your door.”
She waved a hand in dismissal.
“No, sis. You've got Stella here. No way would I want any danger getting near her, or you.”
“We've got Tom to protect us too, you know.”
“I know, but you're both busy with the Inn. I don't want to take advantage of your generosity. As soon as I can, I'll move this stuff out.”
She came in close and gave him a peck on his cheek. They unloaded the pieces from the truck into the storage shed and Jeremy carefully locked everything up.
* * *
That night, Emma was putting the finishing touches on her eyelashes and lips when she heard a tap. She took one last glance in the mirror and rushed to the door. Jeremy stood there in jeans and a form fitting thermal shirt in a light blue. The color made his gorgeous blue eyes pop. His dark hair looked recently ruffled by fingers, and the stubble on his chin was in the “just right” category.
“Hi,” she said probably a little too breathlessly, and moved in close. She sank her lips into his and he immediately reciprocated with a warm welcoming response. As they parted, she couldn't help running her fingers across his abdomen, glorying in the tight muscles underneath the fabric. Suddenly, she found herself yearning for summer when she could invite him to the beach and admire his swimwear.
That thought made her smile and he noticed as she stepped back and let him in.
“What's the smile for?” he asked.
She giggled, just feeling happy that things were so right in her life. Dating Jeremy, both their jobs going well, her father committed to cutting back on drinking and looking for a job. “Just glad to see you.”
He nodded. “Me too. Did you have any plans for us tonight?”
She shrugged. “Had thought of a few options but we can come up with something fun.”
They headed down to his truck and decided on a local favorite, The Crab Trap, very casual décor and some of the best shellfish not only on the island, but in the whole area. Due to the season, there wasn't a long wait, and within twenty minutes they were digging into their selections of shrimp, mussels, crab legs and lobster.
“I had some bad news today,” Jeremy said.
“Oh no. What?”
“A vandal came to my backyard and destroyed two of my works in progress. Chucked away at them with a chisel. Big gouges in the wood surface. I won't be able to repair them. I'll have to ditch them and start over.”
She dropped a fork and reached for his hand. “Jeremy. That's terrible. What are you going to do?”
He knitted his brow in frustration. “Maybe an enemy has figured out where I live and where I do my work. The fact that they were behind my house, destroying my livelihood while I was potentially right inside, puts it a little too close to home. I moved all my pieces.”
“To where?”
“To Marianne's. But I can't leave everything there for long. If, whoever it is, figures out what I've done, I'd put Marianne and her family in danger. I refuse to put them at risk because of me.”
“Do you think this person is dangerous?”
He shrugged. “I have no idea. But I have to plan for the worst. If anything happened to someone I care about because of me, I'd never forgive myself.”
She rubbed her hand absentmindedly over his.
“I'm going to have to find a permanent location for my business. I've grown enough now that I can't just work out of my yard or Marianne's. I wasn't quite ready yet to rent a building, but maybe this is God pushing me to make that step.”
She lit up. “That's exciting! How about we go out together with a realtor and we'll look at the options?”
“Sure, thank you.”
They sat in silence for a few moments. “Do you have any clue who would do this?”
“No one in particular. But it could be any number of people. Someone who did time with me, who is now released. You don't exactly build friendships in there. Maybe someone who resented me, or didn't like me is now on a vendetta. Or, more likely, someone from the Harrison and Son days. Someone I wronged. Instead of confronting me and letting me apologize, they've held a grudge and now that I'm released, they want to make me pay.”
“How would they know where you live? How would they know you're building furniture?”
“Pawleys Island is a small town. If you wanted information about anyone or anything, all you need to do is ask enough questions.”
They devoured their seafood and let their stomachs settle over cups of coffee. Jeremy sat so quietly she could almost hear his thoughts churning in his head. Something was bothering him. Eventually he let her I on it.
“Listen, I don't want to alarm you but a few months back, I heard about a big-time convict that I did time with who is now released. He’s settled in Myrtle Beach.”
“Oh, my gosh!”
“Yeah. He’s no one you want to mess with. He’s a mean one, and he’s not afraid to use his strength to go after what he wants. Sources say he’s getting bored with the clean life. He’s not getting any jobs, he’s finding it difficult to fit in, and it would be just his MO to try to stir up a little trouble, especially for people he previously served time with.”
Emma frowned. “Does he know about you being here in Pawleys?”
Jeremy shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t think of any particular reason he’d come after me, unless he’s just, like I said, bored, and looking for fun. He and I tolerated each other in prison, but we weren’t friends, not by a long shot. If someone told him I was trying to start my own business, keeping my nose clean, making a little money, I could see him trying to mess that up for me, out of spite or jealousy. Or just because he could get me in trouble.”
“That wouldn’t be fair at all,” she said with vehemence, then her anger died at the look Jeremy gave her. Of course it wasn’t fair, but it was life and life was never fair, especially for someone in Jeremy’s position.
“Could you talk to the local police and have them keep an eye out for this guy, what’s his name?”
“Leroy White. And no, I wouldn’t do that necessarily, but I did mention it to Neil the last time I met with him. Leroy isn’t one of Neil’s flock but he said he’d contact Leroy’s probation officer and give him a heads up. Hopefully this is all speculation, and Leroy is actually doing the right things.”
“What was Leroy in for?”
Jeremy shrugged. “A variety of crimes, burglary, theft, violence of whatever sort.” He brought his eyes up to look into hers.
She shivered. “Vandalism?”
“I wouldn’t rule it out.”
“Seriously?” she went on, her anger rising. “So he could’ve gotten out of jail, figured out where you were, located your inventory and come after them w
ith a chisel in your backyard. All under the radar.”
“I guess it’s possible, but that’s a major jump to conclusions. I haven’t even seen the guy. He’d have to be pretty sneaky and savvy to have done all this without me knowing anything about it.”
Despite the scary news Jeremy had just shared, a shiver of optimism flitted through Emma. Her dad was on the right track, her mom was happy, and this Leroy character could be a suspect in the vandalism. Now that Neil was aware of him, the authorities could keep an eye on him and hold him accountable for any wrongdoing. And she could focus on her future with Jeremy.
He smiled. “I’m sorry to worry you. Maybe the incident was random and isolated. Meanwhile, we've got a plan. I'll call a commercial realtor I know and we'll go out and look. This will force me to make this a real business and not something I just do as a hobby. With your help, I'll make this thing work.”
Before leaving, they took a moonlit walk on the beach. The January breeze made it a little chilly, which gave her a good excuse to snuggle against Jeremy when he wrapped his arm around her. She leaned against his chest as they walked, breathing in his scent of soap and wood chips. They talked about other things than the vandalism, but it never left her mind, and she was sure, his as well.
When did growing up get so hard?
* * *
A few nights later, Emma's mom invited her over for dinner. As soon as she arrived, she could tell the tension had been lifted from the house. The living room was tidy and picked up, free from loads of unfolded laundry. Her dad greeted her at the door instead of hiding out in the basement. He gave her a kiss and she couldn't help taking a sniff to see if she smelled beer on his breath. She didn't. Mom was finishing a salad in the kitchen while the lasagna cooled on the stovetop, so Dad took her drink order. He prepared a tall glass of Diet Coke on ice and handed it to her. The two were working as a team and it was so nice to see.
When the three sat down at the table it brought back pleasant memories from her childhood. Mom talked about a customer at work today who had some crazy demand that the office declined. Mom always had crazy customer service stories and they all shared a laugh.
Pawleys Island Paradise boxset, Books 1 - 3 Page 41