by Drea Stein
She almost laughed. “Just boring enough.”
He nodded. “Your turn.”
It was only fair, she decided. “I was born in a trailer park alongside a muddy river. Got pregnant when I was still a kid, left the baby with my mama, and ran off to the big city to make money. Worked hard and met Bobby Dean DeWitt, a race car driver, when I was still young, and he was growing old. We got married. I was faithful, he wasn’t. Never lost his taste for fast cars and faster women, but I loved him and when he died, damn near broke me. I came up here to finally be a mother to my son. I hate the snow, but I love the water and every single day, life gets a little less gray, a little brighter.”
She hadn’t known what to think, how to act when she came to Queensbay. She had needed to see Colby, to see if she could mend their relationship after years of estrangement. It hadn’t been easy, and they still sometimes butted heads. But family had a way of pulling you back in, of grounding you.
“Are you still broken?” Quent asked softly.
She shook her head and smiled, a true smile that came from the knowledge that she was ready to move on and that Quent, for some reason she didn’t quite understand but wasn’t going to question, just might have something to do with it. “I think I’m beginning to find my way to getting fixed.”
He looked at her and said, “I’m no race car driver.”
“And thank god you’re not,” she said. She didn’t need or want another Bobby Dean. Quent was a good man, one who ran a business, saved money for a rainy day, and took care of the people in his life. She had heard that Quent had taken care of Chino Charlie, made sure he wouldn’t dare show his face again at the pub and she appreciated Quent’s caretaking of those around him.
“I’d still like to take you to dinner,” he said.
“And I would like to go. You’ll pick me up at six tomorrow?” she said, knowing that she would keep him waiting, just a little bit. She wasn’t about to surrender all of her feminine wiles just because Quent was looking at her with adoring eyes. It felt good to be looked at like that.
“That would be lovely. Tomorrow then,” Quent said.
Chapter 37
“Mrs. Worthington,” Colleen said, holding out her hand and studying the woman who opened the door. Colleen was doing her best not to let nerves get the best of her, but she had a lot riding on this meeting. Her first new client, the start of a new business. The pressure to not mess this up was making her slightly sick to her stomach, but she smiled through the queasiness, trying to remind herself that April Worthington had asked for her, Colleen, specifically.
“Please call me April.”
April Worthington was medium height, just a little on the plump side but had one of the biggest smiles Colleen had ever seen. Within seconds, April had her in the house and was pumping her hand.
“I couldn’t wait to meet you. When Jake told me that he knew you, I was so excited I nearly peed my pants. I’ve been reading your blog for years. And your book—I’ve given it to my sister, my mom, my aunt. We love your recipe for lavender lemonade.”
“That’s great,” Colleen said, truly happy that someone loved that recipe.
April was walking and talking and leading Colleen back through the hall on a whirlwind tour of the house.
“We’ve just finished the kitchen renovation and now we’re starting on the rest of the downstairs: the family room, living room, dining room, and, of course, Kevin’s study. That was the deal. He got his own space, and I got the new kitchen. The problem is if it’s not a pot or a pan, I just don’t know what to do. Kevin loves it when we entertain, swears my pot roast is his secret weapon to closing the deal, and I want the house to look perfect.”
“Well, umm, okay,” Colleen responded uncertainly. She wasn’t usually at a loss for words, but the download of information from April was a little much.
April took a deep breath, then said, “I am so sorry. Everyone tells me that I can get a little hyper. I know I need to calm down but really, this project has been so overwhelming. Kevin is always working, which is only to be expected since he got the promotion, but like I said, he really wants the house to look nice and to be able to use it to entertain clients.”
“Of course,” Colleen agreed. “A welcoming home is very important.”
April was standing there, wringing her hands, her eyes honed in on Colleen.
Colleen looked around, trying to take it all in. The house was vast. It was in one of the newer developments in town, in the wooded section, farther back from the coast. The lots were generously spacious, and the houses tended toward classical design—whether it was French chateau style, English manor house, or Colonial Williamsburg like this one. The house wasn’t brand new, but the Worthingtons had bought it just a few months ago and had slowly but surely committed to a complete renovation and overhaul.
“Now that the kitchen is done, we decided to move in,” April said. “We have the upstairs furnished, of course, but for now we just live in the kitchen. Jake and his crew are working on the finish work and built-ins. He told me he’d be done in two weeks, so it was time to start furnishing. I started to look, but I got so overwhelmed. I baked some muffins, would you like to try one? And I have coffee. Couldn’t live without coffee.”
“Coffee would be lovely,” Colleen answered as she took in the kitchen. It was breathtaking—an expanse of marble counters and gleaming appliances. No expense, it appeared, had been spared. Even though the whole house smelled of new wood and fresh paint, the kitchen already looked homey with pots of herbs growing on a sunny windowsill, a bookshelf filled with cookbooks, and the plate of muffins set next to the glass carafe of coffee. The muffins and fresh coffee smelled heavenly.
“I went with marble since I like to bake,” April said, one hand resting on a center island that seemed to be dedicated solely to the fine art of pie making.
“Why don’t we set up here, and you can give me one of those muffins, and we’ll start talking about what you’re dreaming of.”
Colleen put her things down on a long countertop with a couple of stools and smiled at April.
“Oh thank goodness, I just knew you’d be the answer to my prayers. I don’t care what it costs if you can pull everything together.
“They’re my morning glory muffins. I think Jake is quite fond of them too. Every time I brought them to the crew they disappeared—the muffins that is—and well, they got the job done ahead of schedule. Kevin does say that my muffins can work miracles.”
April poured coffee and handed Colleen a muffin. There was something so endearing about her, her openness and friendliness.
Colleen took a bite of the muffin, then another. It was a seriously good muffin. “Wow, April, these are amazing. Morning glory, you said?”
“Oh yes; my grandmother’s recipe. Of course I have made a few tweaks, but they are crowd pleasers.”
The muffin was delicious, and Colleen found herself taking a third bite before she put the muffin aside. She wanted to eat the whole thing it was so good. Jake hadn’t been lying about April’s muffins.
“Now that Kevin has this new position, he is so excited. We’ve been looking at this neighborhood for years, and when this house came on the market, he bought it as a surprise. Can you imagine? Then he said as long as he got his traditional study, I could have the kitchen of my dreams. So we each got what we wanted, and now I have no idea how to do the rest. Do I want formal or casual or casual formal? I just don’t know. And then I finally do make a decision, and I hate it, and I just don’t know what to do about it, so I bake some more.
“So this time,” April continued, “I said to myself, brand new house, brand new April. I looked over all of these magazines and blogs and websites, and I still didn’t know what to do. And then Jake said he knew you and it was like a miracle.”
Colleen smiled. She wasn’t sure she was a miracle worker. But she could help April get started. “I brought some magazines and some books,” she said. “I thought we could just fl
ip through them, and you would show me what you liked without worrying about anything else.”
Colleen wanted to get a sense of what April liked and, maybe more importantly, what she didn’t like, before she made any recommendations.
“That sounds heavenly,” April said, and they got to work.
Chapter 38
Ellie had agreed to meet Quent in the parking lot of her building simply because she wasn’t quite ready to have him come up to her apartment. She was afraid that if she invited him in, they wouldn’t ever leave. Not because Quent would be anything but the perfect gentleman, but because she wasn’t sure she could be the perfect lady. She realized that something had tilted in her feelings toward him, that she was ready to move on, to embrace all that it meant. And so, because she wanted to force herself to slow just a bit, to enjoy it, she had him wait for her, and there he stood, leaning against the door of the Trans Am with arms folded as he watched her descend the steps.
No boat ride for her tonight, so she had dressed in her typical style, in a dark green dress that complemented her eyes, and her favorite stilettos. She had a wrap thrown over her arm and the tiniest of purses. Quent didn’t move until she got to ground level, but his eyes watched her, and she had to work to hide her satisfaction. His smile, slow and easy, was definitely appreciative. He held out his arm, opened the door for her, and she slid into the low bucket seat. He came around, got in, and the engine roared to life and settled to a heady purr.
“Sounds good,” she said. Close to him, away from the beer-soaked air of the bar, she noticed that he smelled like soap and a hint of spicy aftershave, nothing overpowering, just a lovely combination of maleness.
He took her hand and kissed it gently. “All tuned up for you,” he said, and winked.
She smiled, settled into her seat. “So where are we going?”
“A little hideaway I know about, a bit up the coast.”
She smiled. “Let’s go for a drive,” she said.
Quent couldn’t decide it if was nervousness or lust that was coursing through his veins. He had watched Ellie descend those steps and wondered if he dared suggest that they scrap dinner and order in. But he knew he wanted a chance to woo her. The boat ride had been fine, but he had seen her turn green about half of the way through it and decided to cut it short. She had been apologetic and sweet, and it had taken some nerve to seek her out at work and try again. He had a plan, a trip to The Hideaway, a simple Italian restaurant, nestled along the coast at a small marina. The décor was wood paneling and dark carpets, but the wraparound deck had a splendid view and the food was amazing.
He powered the car out of town, then up the hilly road that hugged the coast. It swooped and dipped as the water stayed on their side, visible through breaks in the trees and the houses. The Trans-Am was loud and made conversation difficult, but he didn’t mind, just liked being with Ellie. He’d known it from the first moment she had walked into his bar, after her first day of work, looking for a bourbon neat. She had slammed it back, the gesture in direct contrast to her ladylike appearance. He’d been tongue-tied, and when she asked for a water, he had put it in front of her, his hand brushing hers, and he had gotten a tingle. He’d been at her beck and call since then, for months, but he doubted she noticed. He’d been curious why she showed up at his place. She looked like the type who would prefer to do her drinking at the Osprey Arms, the luxury hotel in town, with a bar that had been named “Best Cocktail Lounge.”
“You’re the first watering hole I came to. Figured I wouldn’t see anyone I know, either,” she’d said as if she’d read his mind.
He hadn’t known whether to be offended or pleased with his good luck. But it was her voice, the slow Southern drawl, along with her catlike green eyes, dark hair, and shapely body that had cemented his feelings for her. True, she wasn’t as young as he had first thought, but she wore her years well, and he wasn’t interested in some twenty-year-old bimbo who he’d have to explain every pop culture reference to. No, Ellie was magnificent in every way.
Despite her drinking that one bourbon straight down, he’d found out she wasn’t a big drinker, even though she kept coming back to the bar. She wasn’t a big eater, at least not of his typical bar food menu, though she would slowly work her way through a bowl of unshelled peanuts while she kept him company. She would arrive just after work and leave early, before the bar became crowded, so they’d have a chance to chat. True, it was about the weather and what people were drinking, and maybe baseball or football. Nothing had been too personal, until now.
She loved the restaurant and for once, he was glad to see her eat; she seemed to really enjoy the pasta dish she ordered. She sipped at wine, enjoyed the view, and even had a bite of his tiramisu. After dinner, they stood on the deck of The Hideaway, a tall heat lamp warming them, nestled together. The sun was just about to set, just a bit of orange lacing itself against the deep purple of the darkening sky.
“I love the sunset over the water,” she said and sighed.
“Best time of day,” he agreed. The air was growing colder, and he could feel her shiver just a little. He put an arm over her shoulder, and she turned into him.
She looked up at him and her profile was caught in the soft glow of patio lights strung across the deck.
“I had a lovely dinner,” she said.
“I did as well,” He said, wanting to kiss her and trying to decide if that was what she wanted.
She seemed to sense his hesitation and one hand went up and brushed against his cheek. He caught it, held it and then leaned down. She met him, and the kiss was gentle, but then she wrapped her arms around him, and he could feel heat answering heat and something in him untwisted, the nervousness and worry relaxing. He placed his arms solidly on her waist, gently, knowing that she was fragile. She was tiny, a little woman, and he wanted to protect her, from what, he didn’t know, because as far as he knew, Ellie was a woman without any demons in her life.
“You know, I have a pretty good view of the sunrise from the balcony at my apartment,” she said.
It took him only a moment to grasp at the meaning behind her words. He smiled, looked down and said. “Why luv, are you inviting me over to see it?”
She smiled and kissed him again, before she pulled back and said in a sexy whisper of a voice, “Why darlin’, you bet I am.”
Chapter 39
Jake liked the quiet of an empty worksite, when it was just him and the building. He would never admit that the buildings he worked on seemed to talk to him, especially the older ones. If he walked into a house that had been built over a hundred years ago, it was as if he could see how it had been lived in, how it had been loved, the happiness and sadness that had transpired.
He believed a building, especially a home, wanted to be lived in, to be loved, which is why he loved restoring old and damaged buildings to glory. No building in Queensbay was quite as damaged and distressed as the Queensbay Showhouse. He’d come here often, ever since Mrs. Sampson had given her tacit approval for his proposal. There was still a long way to go, including the actual purchase of the building, not to mention permits and plans, but today, he was doing an inspection, the first step in creating a real, viable proposal for the Old Lady, as he had taken to calling the Showhouse. He was ready to hear her story, discover what secrets she was keeping.
He wasn’t quite alone, though. The building was too big for that, so he grabbed some of his best guys for the day. Everyone said the building should just be torn down, and he should start over, but he was hoping that today would prove them all wrong. The five-man crew was swarming over the building. Two were looking along the foundation, while Jake and the other two got the ladders ready to start looking at the roof. The roof was very high, and as Jake knew from the interior avian residents, holes had to be in the roof because the birds were getting in somewhere.
Today, there was a spooky feel to the place, a vibe he couldn’t quite shake. The sky was cloudy, and rain threatened, which did the old wr
eck of a building no favors. He dredged up an old memory from high school English, of another old house in dire need of some tender loving care. The Showhouse had always reminded Jake of Miss Havisham’s house from Great Expectations.
He leaned the ladder against the side of the wall, tested it. Manny, one of the guys on his crew looked at him and shook his head, a clear indication that he thought Jake was crazy.
“What, you don’t think it will hold?” Jake asked, trying to keep his voice light. He wasn’t worried about the ladder, of course.
Manny muttered something under his breath that Jake couldn’t quite catch. He looked over his crew. Robert was here too and though strong, he only weighed one hundred thirty pounds, max. He was the obvious choice to go up on the roof, and Jake knew if he asked, Robert would do it. But he wasn’t that kind of boss, at least not yet. He was the hands-on type, the one who swung the hammer, who worked in the sun, and the one who prided himself on knowing how to do every job on the site, even if his main responsibility was paperwork, managing schedules, and keeping track of profit margins.
Jake climbed, not looking down, just up, focusing on the eaves above him, putting one step above the other. He got to the top of the ladder and reached the roof. Out to the right he could see the expanse of the harbor, flat, leaden, and calm, as if just waiting for the rain. The Showhouse was up on an embankment, higher than the beaches surrounding it. It was a tall building. He was up high, very high.
A bird rushed past him and he smiled. It was kind of like flying but not quite. He got up on the roof, carefully and gingerly. He walked, well, it was more like he crawled around it. He got to the pitch, peered down the other side and sighed. He’d seen enough, and it was starting to rain, which was making the slate tiles slippery. He went carefully back down the roof, to the ladder and began the descent. He hopped down when he was closer to the ground, and he almost felt the collective sigh of relief from his guys.