“She’ll get it down. Everyone likes her. Reuben is firm, but he’s fair.”
“That’s your boss?”
Jace nodded and looked away. He felt he had no right to ask, but maybe if he knew a little more about Georgie, he could figure out how to fix what had happened.
“So has Georgie always lived with you, or . . . ?”
Dar shook his head. “Just came out a week before she started work at the restaurant. It’s been years since she’s been out here. I think the last time was . . . sixteen, seventeen years ago? She was just a little thing then.”
“What brought her out here? School?”
“Nah, she’s just been going through some tough times and needed to get away.” That was all Dar offered.
“Will she stay long?”
Dar shrugged. “As long as she needs to. She seems to like being out here.”
Jace nodded. “Good.” Kit returned with the stick and dropped it on Jace’s shoe. He picked it up. “Well, I better head back.”
“You bet. Hey, we’ll have to have you over sometime. Maybe for lunch. I’m semiretired and live in a house full of women. It would be nice to even things up a bit, if you know what I mean.”
Jace smiled. “Three sisters. I’m in the middle.”
“Oh, golly. You want to come join us today?”
Jace tapped his leg with the stick as Kit tried to get his teeth around it. “I better not. Another time, maybe.” He swallowed and glanced up at the house he knew Dar was headed for.
“Count on it. Oh, hey, could you do me a favor?”
Jace looked out at the water. “Sure.”
“Could you keep an eye on Georgiana for me at work? She’s been going through a lot, and she just seems to be struggling a bit. It’d be nice to know she has a friend there.”
Jace nodded. “You bet.” He forced a smile and turned with a wave. He didn’t remember much of the walk home. He was too preoccupied with the burning guilt in the pit of his stomach.
“Yoo-hoo, Jace.”
Under the shared carport at the top of the stairs at her own side door stood Mrs. Feddler, his landlady, pulling him from his thoughts. She was a large woman and spent most of her days in a housecoat and slippers. Fortunately, she was an animal lover and had no problem letting Jace keep Kit. She had a yippy little Yorkie herself, which currently rested in her arms, wearing a pink bow. Pepper growled at Kit, who huffed apathetically and went to his water dish.
“Hush, Pepper. Jace, I was wondering if you’d given any more thought to my offer. I’ve had a few estimates by professionals, but the jobs are yours if you want them. Of course I can’t pay you what I would pay a professional, but we can certainly make a deal with the rent. Spring is practically here, and, well, you know yourself how this place needs some sprucing up. If my Larry were still alive—hush, Pepper; stop that—well, keeping up the place was all him, wasn’t it? And you said you knew a thing or two, am I right?”
“Yes, Mrs. Feddler.” Growing up working at his dad’s diner and helping at home had taught him many aspects of building repair and maintenance. But when Mrs. Feddler had approached him in the fall with an offer to do some home repair jobs, he’d been too busy in Seattle to commit to it. Now there wasn’t much to keep him from taking the offer, and he could use the money off the rent. “I think I’ll take you up on it.”
“Oh, wonderful. I’ll get you the list of projects. Now, there are some that can be started right away and some, like the exterior paint, that will have to wait until nicer weather. Wait right there.”
She hurried back through her doorway. Jace looked around him with different eyes, noting the scraping that would need to be done on the trim and siding, the moss growing out over the edges of the rain gutters. He inhaled and blew out a long breath. Mrs. Fiddler reappeared with a substantial list.
“Now, as far as purchasing supplies, I’d appreciate it if you gave me a list of what was needed and an estimated cost, and then I’ll give you the money you need. I think I remember you saying you don’t do floors. Is that right?”
Jace nodded, taking the list she held out.
Clean out gutters
New toilet
New sink fixtures/showerhead
Paint inside and out
New shed . . .
Mrs. Feddler continued talking. “I’ll have to make some calls about that, and don’t worry about lighting. I’m still deciding. But the carpets are getting pretty worn. That green carpet was installed in 1977. Can you believe that?”
He could.
“Now, you can pick and choose in what order you want to tackle these, and I’ll direct you in colors and whatnot, but I’ll certainly consider your input. My husband had fairly good taste and was always good for helping me decide. He updated our apartment before he passed on, such a blessing—not him passing on, of course, but that he had the notion to update.”
Jace hid a smile as he looked over the list. He nodded. “I’ll get started in the next couple days.”
“Wonderful. Now, please make yourself at home with the tool cabinet, and Larry always kept supplies, so check before you think you need to buy anything.”
He glanced at the toppling pile of aging miscellaneous “supplies” in the corner of the carport. At least the tool cabinet looked like there was some order to it. “All right. Thanks.”
“Oh, thank you, Jace. It’s nice to have a strong young man in the apartment.” She turned and sighed. “Not that the Richmans were bad tenants, mind you; they were wonderful. Such good friends. But not much help in the upkeep, being older, you know.” She climbed the steps. “Although Mr. Richman did replace the towel bar Mrs. Richman grabbed when she slipped on the floor when she got out of the tub—that chrome towel bar next to the sink. June did not break her hip from that fall but did break it the following year stepping down those very steps. Then, after that, well, you know I worried about those steps being a hazard, but I don’t have to worry about you, do I, Jace? No broken hips for you. Poor June though. Oh, I hope I never have to experience that injury. Tremendously painful. Enjoy your youth, Jace. Well”—she turned in the doorway, panting a little—“just let me know what you need.”
“I will.” He waved the list, and she nodded, saying something to Pepper about a snack, and closed the door.
He read the first item on the list.
Clean out gutters.
He groaned inwardly.
* * *
Using the long, tiny fork, Georgie extracted the meat from the cracked shell and dunked it in melted butter. Letting it drip once, she lifted the morsel to her mouth and chewed slowly. Warm butter dribbled down her chin as she swallowed. “Oh, this is so good.”
Dar looked pleased and passed her a napkin.
“Would you like some lemon in your butter?” Faye pushed a bowl of lemon wedges in front of her, and Georgie squeezed one over her butter dish.
“Here, you need a few more legs on your plate.” Tru dropped four more crab legs onto Georgie’s full plate. “Nothing like crab legs and lots of melted butter to make you feel better.”
A laugh escaped Georgie’s lips, and she shook her head. It had been a good morning. The sun had burned off the pressing mist, and a blue sky had shone like it had just been created. Georgie had watched it for a good hour on the back porch, just soaking in sunshine.
There had been something freeing about the previous night. Horrible and freeing. She dreaded going back to work that evening, and there was an ever-present flutter in her stomach over it, but talking to Faye had strengthened her. And she was eating crab legs. She swallowed another bite. “You guys are spoiling me.”
“Yes. And doing a bang-up job, if I do say so myself.” Faye dipped her own forkful in butter. “A girl should be spoiled every so often. I think that’s a commandment somewhere.”
Tru snorted. “Yeah, right after the one about coveting thy neighbor’s chocolate.”
Georgie smiled. “I don’t think that’s how it goes.”
Georgie laughed at Tru, and Faye clapped her hands. “Speaking of chocolate, I made pudding.”
“Don’t let the neighbors see it.” Tru cracked a crab leg open.
Dar’s deep laughter rumbled through the kitchen. For the first time since arriving on Camano, Georgie felt . . . happy.
“This is why I came here.” Georgie blinked as she looked at the faces around the table. “Thank you.”
Faye beamed, and Tru frowned. “You came here to eat crab? Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”
Georgie grinned, picked up another crab leg, and grabbed the crab cracker. “That too.”
Tru broke into a full smile.
After they’d significantly reduced the pile of crab legs and practically licked clean the butter dishes, Dar leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms. “I met someone you know on the beach this morning, Georgie, walking his dog. As coincidence would have it, he works at the restaurant and attends our ward.”
Georgie slowly lowered her napkin, her pulse picking up speed.
“Jace Lowe. He says he’s a chef.”
The aunts were too busy clearing away empty shells and lemon rinds to notice what must have been an obvious change in her countenance. Dar, however, was watching her closely. She sucked in a breath and nodded, hoping she looked interested instead of mortified. She already felt the heat in her face though. Hot spots.
She kept her eyes wide with wonder. “Oh. He was walking here? On your beach?”
“Well, I’ve never claimed it as our beach, though Tru would argue otherwise, very loudly if motivated.” Tru shot him a look. “And technically it is our property to the buoys, but yes, he was walking. On my beach.” Dar winked at her, and she gave him a small smile. “Seems like a nice enough fella. I told him he needed to come around sometime and feast with us.”
Georgie looked down. “What did he say?”
“He said he’d rather be boiled in lobster bisque.”
Georgie jerked her head up, but her uncle was already laughing at his own joke. “I gotcha. Did you see that, Tru?”
Georgie breathed out, trying to enjoy his humor. It wasn’t working.
Tru answered dryly. “Go easy, mister. You’ll scare the girl, trying to be so funny.”
Georgie laughed weakly as she watched her hands.
“We’ll have to have him over sometime,” Dar continued. “You should see that dog. Never seen so many colors on one animal.” He shook his head and pushed himself back from the table. “Anyhow, I asked him to keep an eye out for you at work, just to—”
“You what?” Now her eyes were wide in genuine horror.
Dar paused. “Well . . .” He looked at Faye, who had turned at Georgie’s outburst, and quickly returned to his reserved self. “I just thought . . .”
Georgie tried to recover quickly. “It’s fine.”
“Georgie?” Faye wore that concerned look Georgie was beginning to know too well.
“Oh, no. It’s fine. I just . . .” Georgie wrung her napkin under the table and swallowed. “I just don’t want you to think I need supervision or anything like that.” She tried to keep her voice steady. “I mean, I know after last night, well, that was just a little bit of a setback, but”—she scooted her chair back and picked up her plate—“I feel better today.” She reached for her water glass but knocked it over with shaking hands. She hurried to pick it up, grateful it only held melting ice. Only it slipped out of her fingertips again, and she struggled to pick it up, scooping the spilled ice back into the glass.
Tru watched her. “Oh, yeah, you’re perfectly fine.”
Georgie couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up, and as the others joined her, it grew until she had to sit back down. She shook her head. “I’m losing it.” It wasn’t just the humor of her clumsiness, she knew, that had her on the edge of hysterics. It was also the fear of what could be waiting at work when she had to face Jace, on top of everything else.
Activity picked up again, and after the kitchen was clean, Georgie excused herself to go lie down before work. She had little hope of sleeping with all the thoughts racing through her mind.
Just as she kicked off her shoes, her phone rang, and she checked the number.
Her brother.
“Deacon?”
“Hey, how’s my sister holding up?”
“Hang on; let me ask her.” Georgie paused, settling in against the pillows and sighing. “Beautifully. Except she seems to be suffering from a dual-personality disorder. And a severe case of overreacting.”
“Uh-oh. What happened?”
She rolled her eyes. “Nothing. How are you?”
“Nope, not getting off that easy.” He persisted in his light tone, and she knew this was a ‘cheer up’ call. “Your words are coming faster. That’s something good.”
“Yeah, I guess they are. It’s still hard sometimes though.”
“How are the headaches?”
“I don’t get them as often.”
“So, how are you doing?”
She hesitated, not knowing how to answer.
He returned to specifics. “How’s work?”
“Work is fine.”
“Fine?”
“Everyone is very nice.” She pulled at her ponytail and absently examined the ends of her hair.
“Fine and nice?”
She gave up. “Yes. Only . . . there’s this guy—”
“A guy?”
She rolled her eyes again. “Yes. He’s the sous-chef—”
“Sous-chef?”
“Deacon, are you going to keep doing that?”
“Sorry.”
“He’s the assistant chef. Second in command.”
“Like Spock.”
She made an exasperated sound. She really didn’t need her older brother’s attempt to make her laugh with his geek humor. “Yes, Deacon, if the restaurant were the USS Enterprise, he would be Spock.” She ignored his muffled laughter. “It’s a wonder you’re single.”
“Spock is awesome. Is your Spock awesome?”
“He is not my Spock. He isn’t Spock. He’s just this guy, and I can’t figure out if he . . . if he’s good or bad or if I’ll spend the rest of my life afraid of what I don’t know or what I’m susceptible to because I can’t seem to trust my own instincts or see what is real or what is . . . my own paranoia.” She swallowed and rubbed her hand over her pounding heart. “Not that I’m even remotely interested in this guy or any guy or . . .” She trailed off.
Deacon let her breathe a minute. When he spoke again, his tone was more subdued. “Is this guy . . . pursuing you?”
“No. No, not at all. Are you kidding? I’m a basket case.” Deacon made a sound to argue, but Georgie continued. “It’s just . . . he tried to apologize for something, and I went completely psycho on him. I mean, it was nothing, it was so nothing, and I freaked out. It was like he was Ian and—”
“Whoa, what?”
How did she explain that? “He just did something that reminded me of Ian, and I flipped out. It triggered a repressed memory of the night of the accident. It scared me.”
“What was the memory?”
Georgie pulled out the newly filed memory in her head and explained the scene to Deacon.
After she finished, Deacon was silent for a few seconds. “That’s . . . a really crucial memory, Georgie.”
“It wasn’t pleasant. And I think when Jace touched my arm, I wanted to fight back. Because I didn’t before.”
“I think you’re right, but that wasn’t my point. Ian was that angry and physically hurting you? I knew he was a jerk, but this . . . Did you remember any more?”
“No.”
“Hmm. Well, keep me posted if you do. Putting what happened that night together might help you bring some closure to this.”
She shuddered. “Yeah, maybe. It would be nice if I didn’t freak out whenever someone reached for me.”
&n
bsp; He paused. “Georgie, is this sous-chef guy really bothering you? Because you can find another job. I can call your boss. Uncle Dar could—”
“No.”
“No?”
“No. It’s me.” She took a deep breath and blew it out. “He looked just as startled as I was. That was definitely not like Ian.” She remembered Jace’s expression. He hadn’t meant her any harm. “Faye suggested I get some counseling. But I’m not sure. I’m not sure about a lot of things.”
“That’s not a bad idea.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“I’m trying to work out when I can come spend some time over there.”
She couldn’t help smiling. “That would really be great, Deacon. Thanks.”
“Sure. Do you still believe the island is the best place for you right now?”
“Yes.”
“That sounds pretty solid. I thought you weren’t sure about anything?”
“I said I wasn’t sure about a lot of things.” The island felt safer than any other real option she had. “They’re taking good care of me.”
“Okay, then. I’m praying for you, sis.”
Georgie was struck with a sudden longing for home. For Sunday night board games and caramel popcorn and family walks. “Thank you, Deacon. Do me a favor? When you talk to Mom, tell her I’m really doing well, okay? She’ll believe you.”
“And would that be the truth?”
She couldn’t answer him.
“Well, tell Spock to be careful, ’cause you know I’ve got my phaser set on stun.”
Georgie smiled.
“And give the aunts a hug for me.”
“I will.”
As she hung up the phone, she closed her eyes and rubbed her head. The headache was back. Her stomach was in knots all over again, and the clock told her she had one hour until her shift started.
Please, just let me sleep.
Chapter 6
Jace glanced at the clock on the wall, then at the back door. Again he took in the expediter’s organized station and the empty garnish trays. Again he fought the urge to fill them all and get the dressings ready. But he was supposed to become invisible. He glanced at the clock again. Georgie was late, and he tried to keep himself from guessing that maybe she’d quit. Reuben hadn’t said as much, but he wasn’t one to make those announcements. Still, he would have told Jace.
Kisses in the Rain Page 7