by Jill Kemerer
“Ugh.” Claire smacked her forehead. “The igniter broke. You need to light it with a match.” She bounded up the steps, slid the screen door open and grabbed a box of matches. “Where’s Sam?”
“Locked in the library to finish his paper. I can fix it.” Bryan yanked the box from her hand. Two years older than her, he had lighter features than Tommy, but he was handsome too. His dark blue eyes gave him a brooding air.
“Hey, Reed.” Tommy held up a can of soda. “We’re putting a picnic-slash-volleyball-game together. Claire, Aunt Sally told us to drag you there if we had to, but you’re going to the picnic. She said, and I quote, ‘Claire spends too much time at home. She needs to have some fun.’”
Claire cringed. What a lovely impression for Reed to have of her. An otter-loving recluse.
“Actually,” Reed said, “I wanted Claire to drive me into town to take pictures of the damage. It will help us figure out the best companies for the jobs.”
Help get Lake Endwell back on its feet, or be pestered by her brothers all afternoon? Taking pictures with Reed was the clear winner.
* * *
“Stop here.” Reed pointed to the damaged warehouse outside town. The roof peeled back like a can of sardines, and the parking lot was littered with materials flung from the storm. “Was this business on the list?”
Claire parked as close as possible, avoiding boxes and beams. “I’m not sure. Let me check.” He caught a whiff of the coconut scent of her lotion. Big mistake. The tropical delight diverted his attention from the pulse in her neck. That little throb mesmerized him too.
Focus.
“So, did you find it?” Reed opened the passenger door, but his crutches were in the backseat of her ancient vehicle. He waited.
She flipped through the legal pad. Took her pen and slid it down until she found the name. “Yes. We called them. They’ve already contacted their insurance company as well as two commercial builders, and they don’t need help.”
Reed slammed his door shut again. “Great. Let’s continue into town, then.”
Claire weaved the four-door car through the debris back onto the road. “Three of the freestanding stores downtown don’t need us either. They called Dad yesterday and told him the adjuster stopped by. They have a list of leads to call about the work.”
“At least some of the businesses are seeing progress.”
Claire slowed as they neared town. “Yeah, but those three use the same insurance company. The others haven’t had the same success.”
Reed could attest to that. He’d called most of the insurance providers Dale gave him. Some were motivated to rebuild. Others dragged their feet.
“There’s got to be something we can do to get moving on this.” Claire pulled into a parking spot on the edge of town. “I’m frustrated. Isn’t that what insurance is for? To get you back on your feet quickly?”
“Wait. Repeat what you just said.” Reed glanced at her profile. Indignant looked cute on her. And her words had pricked an idea, but he couldn’t grasp hold of it.
“To get them back on their feet?” She lowered her chin, staring up at him from under her lids.
“No, not that. The other part.”
“There’s got to be something we can do.”
“That’s it.” He opened his palms and turned to her. “Exactly. We need to shift the power.” He let the possibilities wash over him. Yes. “You’re brilliant, Claire.”
Her cheeks grew pink, but she shook her head. “Brilliant. Sure.”
“No, really. What we need is to get the remaining insurance companies and all the builders motivated. And I know how we can do it.”
“How?”
“We need an event. Media. Tell the insurance companies and the construction firms we’re honoring all of them in a special celebration for the rebirth of Lake Endwell. We’ll put a time limit on it, so they’ll have to get the work done before then. They wouldn’t want to look bad to the papers, magazines and television crews.”
Claire gasped, her smile reaching across her face. “Yes! It’s just what we need!” Then her face fell. “I wish we could do something for the people who didn’t have home owners’ insurance.”
“What if we include a fund-raiser to pay for their repairs?”
“Yes!” She beamed. “A 5-K. And a bake sale. Oh, Uncle Joe might host a benefit dinner if we can get his restaurant reopened.”
Reed guessed she was right. The Sheffields were the most generous people he knew.
“Let’s talk while we take pictures. It’s stifling in here.” He tugged on his collar and opened his door. “Have you considered buying a newer car? One with air?”
“I ride my bike almost everywhere. I don’t need a new car. Wait for me to come around with the crutches.”
Reed waited. Didn’t want to. But he did. This week had taught him several things, one being that his leg hurt a lot less when he did things Claire’s way.
She handed him a crutch.
“Thanks. Why don’t you take pictures with my phone?”
“Okay.” She helped him with the other crutch and kicked the passenger door shut. “I have the list too. We can mark the addresses as we go.”
He wasn’t used to the crutches, but he found his stride quickly. They had to walk in the street, since the sidewalks held mounds of concrete and bricks. Dumpsters were arriving on Monday.
“Eerie, isn’t it?” He hitched his chin across the street. “How that side looks like it didn’t see the storm, but this side is full of rubble.”
Claire tucked the legal pad under her arm and snapped pictures. “It is creepy. I guess I should be thankful some of the town was spared. It would be hard to be an owner on this side, though. Wouldn’t you be wondering, ‘Why me?’”
Kind of like how he felt when he woke up in the hospital. “Yes. I would.”
They continued up Main Street.
“After this, let’s head over to the restaurant,” Reed said. “I want to see it for myself.”
When she didn’t answer right away, he stopped walking. “What’s wrong?”
“Can Dad take you tomorrow?” She didn’t meet his eyes, and her tone sounded strained.
“Why not today?”
“Well, Jake and Libby are coming to the cottage for dinner, and I don’t know if we’ll have time.”
He checked his watch. Dinner was hours away. Was she avoiding the restaurant?
She skipped ahead, then turned to face him. “Smile.”
He gave her his best “are you kidding me?” stare.
“I’ll take the picture anyway,” she warned. She clicked. “That wasn’t so hard.”
He lunged forward to catch her, but someone called his name. He searched the area to see where it came from. A silver Volkswagen crawled to a stop next to him.
“When did you get on crutches?” Barbara had rolled her window down. Dad pulled the car parallel to Reed.
“Hi, Dad.” Of course Dad would be driving through at this moment and kill the mood. Keeping his armpit on the crutch, Reed gave a little wave with his hand.
“Reed.” Dad nodded and stared ahead.
“How are you feeling? Did you have a doctor appointment? Are you doing okay?” Barbara gushed, her eyes darting back and forth. Her fingers lifted to her pearls.
“Hi, Roger. Hi, Barbara.” Claire sidled next to Reed, bent and waved to them. They both said hi.
Reed opened his mouth to answer some of Barbara’s questions, but Dad beat him to it. “When are you going back to Chicago?”
He gripped the crutches and straightened. He hadn’t seen his dad all week, and the first thing out of his mouth was to ask when he was leaving? He clenched his jaw. Didn’t know how to respond without getting ugly or sarcastic or both.
Cl
aire leaned her forearm on Barbara’s open window ledge. “He’s staying awhile to help us get the town back in shape. Isn’t it great?”
“Wonderful, Reed.” Barbara smiled, but worries raced in her eyes.
“Don’t worry, Dad. It’s only for a few weeks. Then I’ll be out of here.”
Chapter Six
Libby, Jake and Reed sat with Claire around the cottage table a few hours later. Claire looked up from her plate. A heron landed near the shoreline. The huge windows showcased the endless blue of lake and sky. The bird stood immobile, ready to catch dinner. Speaking of food, she’d forgotten to fill her salad bowl. Garlic mingled with the aroma of grilled steaks.
“We’re thinking Labor Day.” Jake passed the salad to Claire.
“Why Labor Day?” Claire scooped lettuce onto her plate and eyeballed the dressing options.
“Summer wedding,” Libby said. Her flirty white sundress revealed tanned shoulders and arms. Claire had to give it to her sister—the girl always looked stylish.
“It depends if the church is free that weekend.” Jake crooked his finger for Reed to pass him the bread basket. “I’m guessing Monday.”
Libby frowned, setting her fork down. “Not Labor Day, Jake. Labor Day weekend.”
He slathered butter on a roll. “Friday and Saturday—you know they’re probably booked. Monday is the logical day.”
“No one gets married on a Monday.” Libby’s voice rose.
“No one but us.” His mouth split into a toothy grin as he playfully tugged Libby’s hair. A brief smile graced her face.
Claire glanced at Reed, who gave her a “what can you do?” shrug. Yes, what could she do? She sensed a showdown brewing, and she wasn’t in the mood for it. Ever since they’d run into Reed’s parents earlier, Reed had been quiet. No more playful banter. They’d taken pictures of the buildings methodically, and every idea Claire shared about the possible town event was met with a mumble or a nod. Not that she blamed Reed. His dad hadn’t picked the best time to ask when he was going home.
“Mondays are the most hated day of the week.” Libby pierced a piece of meat onto her fork. “I want the right time and place.” Her expression dimmed. “Exactly one week ago, we’d have been eating our wedding dinner. We should be married now.”
“I know,” Jake said. “But it happened, and we can’t do anything about it. Stop dwelling on it.”
“Stop dwelling on it?” She sniffed. “A tornado ruined our wedding. I will not stop dwelling on it.”
“We’ll have a new date. Labor Day.”
She gave him a dark look. A very dark look. “Classes start back up then. I can’t skip the first week of school for our honeymoon.”
“Talk to your teachers. They’ll understand.”
“Easy for you to say.”
The back-and-forth accelerated, and Claire pressed her fingers against her temples. This conversation would not end well. When Libby sank her teeth into a subject, she didn’t let go. And Jake was being just as stubborn.
“Libby,” Claire said in her brightest tone. “Why don’t you help me with dessert?”
“I’m not done eating dinner.” Libby glowered at her. “And I’m not getting married on Labor Day.”
Jake and Reed focused on their steaks. Smart men. The ice cream needed to thaw for easier scooping, so Claire escaped to the kitchen. She’d already heard enough of Libby’s arguments this week. Couldn’t they compromise and move on?
Claire opened the freezer, grabbed the mint-chocolate-chip ice cream and set it on the counter to soften. She heard Reed say, “Tell me the date, and I’ll be there for it.”
She braced both hands on the counter. Ever since Reed had agreed to stay the rest of the month, she kept forgetting he wasn’t staying for good. And the more time she spent with him, the more she wanted him to stay.
She must be vulnerable. From the tornado. And losing her job. And because he was taking the time to help people get back on their feet, she’d put him on a pedestal.
God, help me protect my heart better. I’ve got a nasty habit of throwing it to the wrong guys. And Reed is the wrong guy. He’s got a vice president position waiting for him. I’ve waited years for this zoo position to open up. I’m not losing it again.
Claire took a deep breath and returned to the silent table where no one made eye contact with each other. Wonderful.
“I haven’t been down to the dock.” Reed pushed his plate back. “Want to put a pole in the water, Jake?”
“Sure.” Jake piled silverware on his empty plate and took Reed’s too.
“You ladies joining us?” Reed’s gaze met Claire’s. Was he being polite or was that an invitation? His light brown eyes glowed. Invitation. An electric sensation skittered over her skin.
The wrong guy.
If she kept telling herself that, maybe her body would agree.
“No, you two go on ahead.” Libby waved them on. “We’re avoiding the mosquitoes.”
Claire sighed. Sitting on the dock with her feet in the water sounded way better than listening to the inevitable rant Libby had prepared. Reed clopped his crutches to the patio door. A blast of heat warred with the air conditioner but lost the battle when Jake closed the door behind them.
“Can you get over him?” Libby scooped the silverware and marched to the sink. “Like I should drop my classes and jump up and down about getting married on Labor Day. A holiday, no less. Who gets married on a Monday? A Monday?”
“Want me to call Pastor Thomas and find out what dates are available the rest of the summer?”
“No, I’ll take care of it.” Libby leaned her backside against the counter, anxiety twitching in her pale blue eyes. “I have this bad feeling.”
“What’s wrong?” Claire put the ice cream back in the freezer and quickly filled the dishwasher. She washed her hands, then waved to Libby. They retreated to the living room. Libby, twirling a piece of hair between her fingers, sat on one end of the couch and faced Claire at the other end. “What kind of bad feeling?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe this is all a mistake. I mean, Jake’s getting on my last nerve, which, let me tell you, is a very frayed nerve.”
Claire’s lips twitched. Her sister might be melodramatic, but she was funny too.
“He’s not being considerate of my feelings at all,” Libby said. “I want a Saturday wedding. A summer wedding. A honeymoon when I’m not taking classes. Why is that so hard for him to grasp?”
One of Claire’s feet dangled to the floor, and she hugged the other knee to her chest. “If you want Uncle Joe and Aunt Sally to cater the reception, you might have to be a little flexible.”
“And I don’t appreciate his suggestion we go to the Upper Peninsula for our honeymoon. Our original plan of driving to Maine was bad enough.”
“What’s wrong with Maine?” Claire asked.
“Nothing, if you love riding in the car for fifteen hours. Yeah, a road trip is not my definition of romance, but even that beats camping in the UP. I wanted to fly to Aruba, Cancún—Florida, even—but no-o-o, he’s being a total cheapskate.”
“Camping could be romantic.”
“Sure, Claire.” Libby huffed. “Real romantic. I melt with delight at the smell of OFF! bug spray. And the shower situation up there—well, it’s probably best described as rustic. I’m shuddering at the thought.”
“He isn’t thinking of tent camping. Is he?” Claire shivered, grimacing. Her sister—the one who spent at least thirty minutes straightening her hair every day—in a tent?
“He wants to borrow his dad’s trailer.” She whirled her index finger in circles. “Yippee. Talk about romantic.”
“Jake has student loans up the wazoo. I’m sure he doesn’t want you starting your marriage deep in debt.”
“I don�
�t want to start my marriage covered in ticks.” Libby flicked her wrist. “What’s the big deal? This is a once-in-a-lifetime day.”
Claire bit back her reply. The phrase “once in a lifetime” had been uttered twice before with Tommy and Bryan, and they both regretted spending wads of money on weddings when their marriages didn’t last. “Sounds like you’re having cold feet.”
“Cold?” Libby shook her head and rubbed her forearms. “No. Chilly maybe. I’m really starting to wonder.”
“About what?”
“Maybe God was telling me something. With the tornado and all. You keep saying we’re young, and I still say I’m old enough to make my own decisions, but what if the tornado was a sign? What if I’m marrying the wrong man?”
“Wait a minute, Libs.” Claire held out her hand. “I never thought you were marrying the wrong man. I just wanted to be sure you’re ready for that level of commitment. You saw how it was with our brothers.”
Libby rolled her eyes. “I’m different.”
“Marriage is forever.”
“I know,” Libby said. “That’s why I’m not sure Jake is my forever.”
“What makes you think he isn’t the right guy?”
“If he’s being this high-handed now, what will he be like in five years? I think I should have some say in our life.”
Claire stretched her knee back out. “Absolutely. Marriage is a partnership, not a dictatorship. But God made men and women different for a reason.”
“Exactly. Maybe Jake and I are too different. His idea of a perfect wedding doesn’t come close to mine. I’m not settling.”
Claire’s spirits sank. Did Libby consider marrying Jake settling? “That sounds unrealistic.”
“Why?” Libby’s eyes widened.
“Nothing’s perfect. What’s wrong with what Jake wants?”
“Everything. Haven’t you been listening? A Monday wedding. Road trip. Bug spray.” Libby grimaced. “A wedding should be more about what the bride wants.”
“A wedding is the first day of the rest of your life as a couple. Compromise a little.”