Aaron used to hang out with Billy, since they were in the same grade. Aside from providing free prophylactics, on plenty of occasions I picked them up from some beach party or other, drunk and barely coherent. “I’m actually more worried about the liability for these guys than I am you.” I motion between my dad and Uncle John, who remain oblivious as they chuckle.
The conversation shifts to the project they’re currently working on. Most of the time the projects for the richies are things like garages, boathouses, and pool sheds—yes, they have pools, even though there’s a gorgeous, pristine lake they can swim in. But this new contract is a first, and also, from what I’m gathering, it’s a headache.
“I need them to make a decision on the flooring. It’s not like it’s life or death,” Dad says.
“Did you at least persuade her not to go with the brazilian cherry? That stuff burns through saw blades like nobody’s business.” Aaron stuffs another fritter in his mouth.
“Are you billing for all the extra time? Mileage and whatever other incidentals there might be? Does she realize that her not making choices also means she’s delaying the project?” I ask.
“I got it all marked down,” Uncle John replies. Which I take to mean he hasn’t actually billed for those things.
I lick the icing off my finger. “Look, these people have money to burn. They aren’t going to balk at being charged for whatever runs you’re making to the hardware store, but at least let them know that the more they delay the decision, the longer the job is going to take, and rush deliveries add charges. And I doubt Harry’s stocks brazilian cherry, so you have to be ordering it from Chicago or something, and there’s bound to be additional delivery charges on that, or at the very least mileage if you have to pick it up.”
My uncle nods, as if he agrees with me, but I know he has an excuse for being hesitant to do what I’m suggesting. “They’re spending a lot of money. And it’s not like she’s difficult. She’s forever making us meals, and coffee, and they’re nice people. She agonizes over every decision, and her husband is so wrapped around her finger he won’t press her on anything. All he says is, ‘Whatever Lainey wants, she gets,’ which is fine and all, but man, it makes it hard to finish a job.” I can tell that since he likes these clients, he doesn’t want to cause conflict.
“Do you want me to come in and talk to her about flooring choices so you don’t have to deal with it?”
“You’d do that?” Uncle John glances at my dad and then back at me.
“Well, yeah, of course. That’s about fifty percent of what I did when I was working in Chicago. I dealt with the client questions so the people who did the actual work could manage that aspect.” Project management is basically the same, no matter what field it’s in.
“Well, hell yes, please, then. I need to be able to get moving on this, or we’ll be even more behind, and every single decision requires a freaking FaceShield call.”
“Do you mean FaceTime?”
Uncle John throws up his hands. “How’m I supposed to know? They have those expensive tablet things that are bigger than my head, and they walk around and talk on them like it’s freaking normal. All I have is this.” He waves his phone around in the air. Based on the size of it, I’d have to guess it’s fairly old and likely doesn’t have many of the apps and updates it needs to function properly.
I make a mental note to check their phone and data plans. Sometimes the internet can be slow and sketchy out here. It’s not like Chicago, where there are satellites everywhere and everyone is plugged in all the time. This is farther off the beaten path, and that means some days service goes out. It’s better now than it used to be back when I lived in town, but whenever I visited for holidays, I made sure I brought a pocket Wi-Fi device so I could send emails without them taking twenty minutes to load.
My parents even have a landline, because in the winter you can lose power for a few days at a time, and then the only way to call anyone is if you have a rotary dial phone.
“When’s the next time you’re discussing finishes with her?”
“We have to swing by this afternoon,” Dad says.
“Why don’t I come with? I need to stop in town and grab some office supplies anyway.”
“Sure, that’d be great.”
“Perfect. I’ve already looked over the project specs, so if you can fill me in on the budget and what all she still needs to choose design-wise, I can go in with a plan of attack.”
Two hours and a very practical conversation later, Lainey Bowman makes a decision on what flooring and cabinetry will work best with the existing design and will preserve the rustic quality of the room. She signs off on the materials and the cost, and I manage to do it all electronically, without even one piece of paper to file.
On the way out, I stop to talk to my dad, who’s already back to work on the pool-house project. “Want me to check Harry’s to see if they can order this stuff in, or go directly to your contacts in Chicago?”
My dad taps the side of his hard hat and sighs. “I don’t think Harry’s going to have any of this stuff, except maybe the paint, but you can give it a shot? I’d at least try to give him the business, but he’s usually only got the basic stock, not the real high-end stuff these folks are looking for.”
“Okay, I’ll pop in on the way through town.”
“Great. Thanks, Darlin’. You’re a real godsend.” He gives my shoulder a squeeze and goes back to measuring two-by-fours.
I hop into the “good” pickup truck, the one that’s used more for advertising than it is for hauling building supplies. Unlike the “work” trucks, the interior is clean, there are no coffee cups or wrappers littering the floor, and it smells like fresh pine with a hint of sawdust.
I pull out of the driveway and pass more mansion-style homes with long driveways, all either paved with formed concrete or interlocking stone. The garages are generally bigger than most of the houses on the south side of the lake. And every year another McMansion pops up on the north side, changing the landscape and edging the neighborhood out to the east and the west. The marina and downtown area stop them from swallowing up the townies completely.
It’s not that I don’t appreciate the money they bring in. Tourism is the reason our community stays afloat during the winter months, but I can’t pretend it didn’t burn my ass when those rich summer kids strung along my townie friends. Or how easy it was to fall into the trap of wanting something you could never have. Even I wasn’t immune. I only made the mistake once, and it was only one impulsive kiss, but I’ve never forgotten it—not the feel, the smell, or the bitter taste it left in my mouth when someone reminded me where my place was, which was nowhere near those rich kids.
When I was young, I believed that life was easier when you had money. And after moving to Chicago, I learned all about the grass on the other side being greener, and how wide the divide was between me and those who had more than average. Even in college there were cliques. They wore brand names and drove around in sweet cars I’d have to work a lifetime to afford. No matter where I was, or where I worked, there would always be a hierarchy that I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to get close to the top of. Back then, it was easier for people with everything to have more, and harder for those of us at the bottom to secure a place a few rungs up the ladder without being kicked back down. Being back here is a reminder of that.
I turn onto the main road and head into town. The first stop is Harry’s, on the off chance that he has everything I need, including the office supplies.
Harry greets me with crinkled eyes and a wide smile. “Well, if it isn’t wee Dillion Stitch. I heard you was back in town!”
Of course he has. That news must’ve spread like wildfire. It feels like a bitter pill I have to swallow every time I run into someone new. When I left, I was sure I’d never have to come back for more than a holiday visit. I force a smile, because it isn’t Harry’s fault I feel the way I do. “Sure am. How are things with you? Looks like it’s
business as usual around here.”
He hoists up his pants by the suspenders and rocks back on his heels. “Doing better than ever, actually. Hired on some new summer help to keep up with things. Plus, my son got himself engaged to sweet little Miss Claire Bell. You remember her, don’t you?”
“Of course, I saw Claire the other day. Congratulations, that’s such exciting news.”
“Sure is. The missus is hoping they’re not gonna wait too long to start giving her grandbabies to look after. Anyway, Claire’s planning to help out around here, but she’s been busy with online classes and working at Tom’s Diner. Her sister works at the rental shop by the beach, but I’m sure you already know that. You and Allie were thick as thieves back when you were kids.”
“That we were.” I nod my agreement.
“Have you run into her since you’ve been back in town?”
“Not yet, but soon, I’m sure.” I don’t know how excited Allie will be, actually. In the years since I moved to Chicago, I allowed my friendships to languish, too busy with work and my new life to make time for them. At first there were phone calls and text messages, but over the years they got fewer and farther between until they were mostly happy-birthday GIFs or holiday wishes. And whenever I came back to town, I’d spend a few days with my family and Bee and leave again. Mostly it’s been work and sleep and not much else since I’ve been back in Pearl Lake.
I give Harry the list of things I need and am pleasantly surprised when he can fill almost everything on order. As expected, he can’t provide the flooring option, but he puts in a call to a distributor in Chicago and gets us his wholesale discount. I feel good about the fact that we get to support local, and we’re able to get a better deal on the flooring by taking advantage of Harry’s contacts.
“I heard Tommy’s working here now too. Is he around?”
“Sure is. He’s out back. If ya want, you can head back and talk to him directly about some of the supplies, see if we have what you need on hand or whether we’ll have to place an order. Or I can do it if you’re in a rush.”
“I can do it; thanks again, Harry. And I’m glad things are going so well.”
He tips his hat, gives me a wink, and then opens the door, ushering me into the lumberyard behind the store. I breathe in the fresh scent of cut wood. The sharp smell of cedar makes me smile. The scent lingers long after the construction phase is over, warm and sweet and comforting.
I spot Tommy at the back of the lot. He’s impossible to miss. His large, bulky frame has filled out and then some since I last saw him. Where his dad is tall and lean with a small paunch, Tommy is broad and thick, like he was built for swinging an ax. He was always a nice kid who got into a little trouble back in the day, but he never meant any harm.
I tuck my thumbs in my pockets and head for him. I’m less than fifteen feet away when I realize he’s talking to someone else. As I get closer, I realize it’s Bee’s grandson. Van.
Before I can do an about-face and tell Harry I’ll call the order in, Tommy’s gaze shifts my way and his face lights up like a winning slot machine. “Holy shit! Darlin’ Stitch! Claire told me you was back in town.” He makes a face and addresses Van. “Sorry ’bout my language.”
Van shrugs and mutters something I don’t hear, but he looks my way, eyes falling from my head to my feet. Today I’m dressed in jean shorts and a company T-shirt that’s about three sizes too big because all they have in stock are large, extra large, and double XL. It’s twisted up and tucked into one side of my waistband to keep it out of the way. I’m also wearing an old pair of work boots from back when I was a teenager and into floral-print Doc Martens.
“Sorry, I don’t want to interrupt. I can come back later.” I glance at Van suspiciously.
“Nah, it’s cool. I’m just about to grab a few things for Van here. Did ya know he’s Bee’s grandson?”
I force a stiff smile. “Yup. We met a couple of days ago.”
“Well, that’s great. You’ve got some real fine neighbors, Van. Darlin’s dad runs Footprint Renos, so if you’re needin’ any help, I’m sure they’d be happy to oblige. I’ll be right back.”
Before Van or I can stop him, Tommy’s off, leaving us on our own. An awkward silence follows. One in which the memory of exactly what I walked in on the other day returns in ridiculous detail. Today Van is dressed in a ratty T-shirt with a college logo on it, a pair of black shorts, flip-flops, sunglasses, and an old ball cap. My eyes skip from his feet, pausing briefly at the waist because the stupid memory of him naked refuses to go away, before moving all the way to the brim of his hat. It’s from the same college in Chicago I went to.
I cross my arms. “What are you doing here?”
He mirrors the movement. “What are you doing here?”
“I asked you first.” What the heck is wrong with me? I’m acting like an angry PMSing teenager.
His lips thin into a line. “I asked you second.”
Heat creeps up my neck and settles in my cheeks. One of us has to be an adult. “Ordering building supplies for my dad since, like Tommy said, he owns the construction company in town.” The duh is implied in my tone. I should probably dial back my bitch a notch or two, but I don’t trust this guy as far as I can throw him, which isn’t very far, since he’s a big dude. I don’t like that he pretended he didn’t know what I was talking about when I mentioned him calling and asking all kinds of questions about the property.
I have to tip my head back to meet his eyes, which is frustrating. I make a go-ahead motion. “So?”
“So?” He lifts one shoulder and lets it fall.
I can’t see his eyes because his sunglasses are the mirrored, reflective type. All I can see is my own red, flustered face. “Why are you here?”
His lip twitches. He has nice lips, full, soft looking. They part and his tongue drags slowly across the bottom one before he responds. “Why do you care?”
I make an annoyed sound in the back of my throat. I don’t see how this guy could possibly be the grandson Bee loved so dearly. He’s an antagonistic jerk. A total McMansion-level asshole. “Do you have so much damn money to throw around that you can use up all the resources in this town on projects that don’t even matter?”
His brow furrows. “What?”
“You know what. Never mind. I’m done talking to you.” I spin on my heel, irked by how blasé and oblivious he’s being, and head back to the store. I’ll call in the order later.
“It was great talking to you again, Darlin’!” he shouts after me. “Glad to see your choice of footwear today allows for safer temper-tantrum stomping!”
It takes everything in me not to flip him the bird. I give his city-dwelling ass two weeks before he gives up on whatever project he thinks he’s going to tackle and has to call my dad’s company in to help him fix it.
CHAPTER 6
ANOTHER BLAST FROM THE PAST
Dillion
I give myself five minutes to calm the heck down. Bee’s grandson riles me right up. It’s frustrating. So is the fact that he’s disgustingly attractive. It’s only a matter of time before some poor townie woman goes gaga over his pretty smile and his delicious body. At least I’m secure in the knowledge that it isn’t going to be me.
My next stop is the office supply/printing store. I have no clue how they stay open. I’m assuming most people in town have no idea how to one click on Amazon. The moment I walk in, I automatically want to turn right back around. Running into Tommy is one thing, but standing behind the cash desk is Tawny Lefrink. Back in high school she was part of my girl gang. There were four of us in total—Sue, Tawny, Allie, and me. Sue was also more of what I would call a frenemy, not an actual friend. Half the time I think she wanted in the group so she could steal my friends. But Allie, Tawny, and I always hung out together. Until I left and they stayed.
Her eyes flare as they move over me. “Dee Dee? Holy crap! I heard you were back in town but thought it had to be a bunch of bullshit rumors.” She comes o
ut from behind the cash register and pulls me in for a tight hug.
The affection surprises me, so it takes me a few extra seconds to react in kind. Tawny’s hair is the same color as her name, but not the reason her parents named her that. She has deep-blue eyes the color of sapphires, a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, and a wide smile that pops a dimple in her left cheek. She’s tall and willowy, to the point that everyone was always worried she had an eating disorder back in high school. She didn’t. In fact, she could eat half the guys under the table. Not much has changed since high school. She’s still tall and lean.
She steps back, hands still on my shoulders. “Wow. You look amazing. The city agrees with you, doesn’t it?” There’s a hint of something like longing in her voice.
“I liked it. Always lots of action.”
Her eyes narrow. “Liked? As in past tense?”
“Still like. But I’m on a hiatus, you know, with Billy having that accident and all.” It’s not like everyone doesn’t already know why I’m here—might as well address the elephant in the room. And out of all the people in Pearl Lake, Tawny definitely wasn’t one to be judgmental.
Her expression softens. “How is Billy? Is he doing okay? When I heard about what happened, I sent a box of chocolate to the house. Those Big Turk things he always loved.”
We both make a face and laugh. We always joked they tasted like soap covered in chocolate, and he must’ve developed a real taste for soap, since he’d had his mouth washed out with it so much as a kid.
“What’d you do, drive all the way to Canada to get those?” As far I know, that’s the only place you can find them. We went to Niagara Falls on one of our rare family vacations, and Billy went a little wild in a candy store.
“Nope. Ordered them online.”
“Wow. That’s a heck of a lot more convenient. He couldn’t get enough of those chocolate bars, or Thrills gum.”
Love Next Door Page 6
