“This will go into escrow until all the necessary papers have been filed, taxes and fees paid, et cetera, et cetera. Should all be finalized by the end of the week.” He stood and held out his hand. “Congratulations, gentlemen. You are now property owners in the great town of Brandon Beach.”
Ian and Rob shook Stan’s hand, and Rob tried to shake Dad’s, but he was drawn into a bear hug instead.
“Take care of my boy for me, Rob.”
“I’ll do my best, sir.”
Ian followed Rob out of the room, but returned when he realized he forgot his suit coat.
Stan had his arm around Dad. “Give my best to my cousin, will you?”
“I’ll do that, Stan.” He stepped away, then turned back. “Will you mail your bill?”
“No charge, Sean.”
“Stan, don’t be ridiculous—”
“Sean, it was an easy transaction. Took no time at all. Consider it my gift to Marie.”
Dad dropped his gaze to the floor and was silent a moment. “Thanks, Stan.” His voice cracked.
Ian hustled back to Rob, not wanting his father to know he’d seen the exchange. But when Dad caught up with them, Ian could not miss the tear in his eye.
Ian reached up and slid the bolt on the door up into the door frame, then reached down and pushed the other one into the floor. He pulled the second door closed behind him and threw the dead bolt. He was just about to turn around when a familiar blond ponytail rushed up.
“Please!” Green eyes pleaded from under blond side swept bangs. She held her hands in front of her in mock prayer.
He flipped the dead bolt back and opened the door just an inch. “What do you need?”
“Please. I’ve been working hard all week. I really, really need some ice cream. I’m begging you.”
Ian couldn’t resist. “Even at these ridiculous prices?”
She grimaced. “I’m so sorry. That was rude. You’re right. I’ll come back tomorrow.” She turned away.
“No, no, no. Come back.” He waved her in.
“I don’t want to get you in trouble.”
“It’s OK. It’s my father’s store.” Technically, still his father’s. At least until the papers were filed at the court house. It was almost his, but he didn’t want her to know that. Yet.
“You’re sure?”
He chuckled. “Come on. Get your ice cream.”
Her smile lit up her face and warmed his heart. He followed her to the back.
She grabbed some french vanilla, a container of chocolate syrup and a gallon of milk.
“Milk?”
She blushed. “Milkshake.”
He laughed. “You just move in?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Where?”
“Over on Ocean View.”
He took the gallon jug from her and walked her to the cash register. “Which block?”
“200s.”
The only possible place she could have moved into was the one managed by Jensen’s. No one else had sold. “The rental place?”
“You ask a lot of questions.”
“Sorry. Just trying to be friendly.”
“Yes. It belonged to my father.”
He placed the items in a paper bag and told her the total.
As she handed him the money, she asked, “Do you know of a reputable plumber? I need a few things repaired.”
“Major things? Or little things?”
Just the slightest smile appeared. “Really? More questions?”
He laughed. “I just mean I can fix a lot of things. I do a lot around the store to save us money, and I’d be happy to help, if you want. Plumbers can be expensive.”
She eyed him for a moment or two. “I barely know you.”
“We can do it in the middle of the day, leave the windows open, keep your cell phone in your pocket with 911 on speed dial. I can even give you references.”
She chuckled. “OK. I could really use the savings. When’s good for you?”
“I’m off tomorrow. You?”
She wrinkled her nose. “I’m off every day.”
“Drop by around 2?”
“I’ll be there.”
CHAPTER FIVE
THE RED-HEAD WAS WORKING at Surf Foods. Hope grabbed a dozen eggs—the one thing she’d forgotten at the chain store this morning. She placed the eggs on the counter, and this time instead of popping her gum, the girl glared at Hope.
On the way home, Hope tried to recall if she had done anything to offend the girl. She couldn’t think of a thing.
That afternoon, Hope leaned against the doorframe and admired the tanned, muscular legs clad in jeans shorts sticking out from under her sink. One leg bent at the knee, the other remained straight. His feet ended in new running shoes.
After a few moments of clanks, clunks and an occasional grunt, Ian set a rusted garbage disposal on the floor, and felt around unsuccessfully for the new one. Twisting, he stuck his head out from the cabinet.
Hope arched her brows. “Having trouble?”
Ian grinned. “Why don’t you make yourself useful and hand me the screwdriver in a minute.”
She stepped closer and knelt next to him.
His head disappeared again as he took the disposal with him. After a moment he stuck out a hand.
She placed the tool in his palm.
He closed his fingers over the screwdriver and her fingers. His touch sent warmth up her arm, and she jerked it away.
He attached the unit, jiggled it, and then scooted out of the small space, sitting before her with his arms on his knees. His tousled light brown hair fell just over the collar of his yellow polo shirt, and the day’s worth of stubble set off his strong jaw.
“I fixed the dripping faucet and running toilet—”
“Already?”
“They were easy. Just a washer for the faucet and an adjustment for the toilet. So now I’ll flip the breaker switch and check this, and we’re all set.”
Wow. How much money had he saved her? “How can I possibly thank you?”
“I’ll give you the receipt.” He winked.
“But what about your time? Wh- what can I do to compensate you? Surely you have better things to do.”
“How about a walk? Or maybe one of those milkshakes you are obviously very practiced at making?”
“Obviously?” She put her hands other hips and glanced down her body. Was he implying she was fat?
“Whoa, whoa! I was just referring to your little setup there.” He gestured to the counter, where she had a blender, a tall glass with a long spoon set in it, and a large bottle of chocolate syrup sitting on a place mat.
“Oh ...” She could feel the blush on her cheeks. “A walk?”
“Sure. Or a run? Do you ... ? I noticed your running shoes by the door.”
She pointed to his feet. “I see you have a new pair.”
Ian tipped one foot on its heel and studied it. “Yeah. Breaking them in. I run most mornings on the beach. I’d love for you to join me.” He pinned her with a gentle stare for so long she had to look away.
She stood and turned away. “How about that milkshake first? Then we’ll see.”
“I’ll get the breaker switch.” Ian headed to the back of the house, and Hope retrieved the milk and ice cream from the freezer. By the time he’d tested the disposal, she had two tall, chocolate shakes ready.
Ian pulled out two kitchen chairs. “So, what brought you out here?”
“Long story. I’m here from Bethesda.”
“Why’s that?”
She shifted in her seat. “I forgot how quiet it gets after Labor Day.”
Ian gave her a quizzical look, but didn’t pursue his question. “Yeah. Summer’s a double-edged sword. Busy and noisy, but store owners like us have to make almost all our money in those three to four months, so the more tourists the better. I’m in a little better position since I sell groceries, and not souvenirs, but still...” He took a long slurp of his shake.
&nbs
p; “Wait—‘store owners like us’? You own the store? You said it was your dad’s.”
“The store was my dad’s that day, but he’s retired now. Now my old college roommate and I own it. ” He finished his shake and pushed his glass away. “So what do you miss most about Bethesda?”
“Well ... it sounds silly.”
“Try me.”
She emptied her glass as she considered whether or not she should trust him. His warm blue eyes convinced her to chance it. “I actually missed it in Bethesda, too.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I had a cat. She died about three months ago. She got sick and I had to put her to sleep. She was a tortie—”
His brows furrowed. “A what?”
“A tortie. Tortoise shell-colored. She’d sit in my lap sometimes at night—if she wanted to, she was kind of moody—when I read.” Hope stared out the window. “And I had this spray that was a kind of a shampoo, waterless, that made her smell like a blueberry muffin.” She smiled. “I loved that smell. She’d get so mad when I sprayed her, but then I’d brush it all over her, and she loved that part.” She pulled her gaze back to Ian to find him staring at her.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to go on and on.”
“What was her name?”
“Frisky.” She shrugged. “I got her at the shelter and she was already named. But most of the time I just called her Kitty.” She tilted her head. “You’re not going to laugh at me?”
“Why would I?”
“I don’t know. Most guys usually do when I talk about her. Even when she was alive they did.” She shrugged.
He chuckled. “Maybe you hung out around the wrong guys.” He stood and walked his glass to the sink, then turned around and leaned against it. “I have a lot of paperwork to do, so I’ve got to shove off. But will you go running with me tomorrow?”
She hesitated.
“Please? I get lonely out there.” A wide smile brought out dimples on either side his mouth.
“I am quite sure that is a huge lie.” She laughed.
“Main Street boardwalk. 7:30. Will you come?”
“No promises.” No way was she getting involved with anyone here. Not even someone as nice and good-looking as Ian.
CHAPTER SIX
IAN GLANCED AT THE CLOCK as he rang up a customer. 9:25. Amy was late again. He was compassionate, but this was getting to be a real problem. Maybe Rob was right, he needed to fire—the front door opened and Amy sauntered in, smacking her gum.
“Amy, we need to talk.”
“Yeah?”
“You’ve got to make more of an effort to get here on time for your shifts.”
She eyed him as she tied on her yellow apron. “I haven’t been late all that often.”
“You’ve been late more often than not. Would you like to see my notes?”
“Does this have to do with her?”
“Her?”
“The blonde.”
“Hope? Of course not. Why would it? This has to do with my being able to count on you being here when you’re supposed to be. I realize you have complications, but I need you to be here when you’re scheduled. Can you do that?”
“Yeah.” She played with her hair.
Was she even paying attention? “If you can’t, I’ll have to find someone who can.”
“Like her?”
“No, not her. I have to go. Rob will be here in a couple hours, before the lunch rush.”
“Whatever.” Amy crossed her arms and spun away from him.
Ian headed north to Ocean View Parkway, then turned left to Hope’s house. He took all three porch steps at once, pushed open the screen door and then rapped on the inner door.
Hope appeared at the door in a cherry red tank top and white shorts that showed off her long legs. His smile made her blush. “Ummm...hi?”
“Let’s go swimming.”
“Now?”
“It’s 85 degrees out. It’s probably one of the last nice days we’ll have this year.”
She grimaced.
“Come on, please? You owe me.”
She scoffed. “I owe you? How’s that?
“You haven’t shown up for a run yet. It’s been two weeks.”
“I said no promises, but fine, I’ll swim with you.” She laughed. “Let me get my suit on. You may as well come in.” She headed upstairs and he sat on the edge of the couch. Books were on the end table; stacks of DVDs sat next to the TV. A blanket and pillow were tossed on the chair—had she been sleeping on the couch?
She bounced down the stairs in flip-flops and a white terry cover-up, a red and blue striped towel in hand. “OK. Let’s go.” She flashed him an uneasy smile, and guilt set in.
“We don’t have to. I shouldn’t have pushed. Want to do something else?” He cringed. “Or...or I can just go.”
“No, it’s fine. The waves looked a little rough the other day, that’s all. I was never big on swimming in the ocean. I’m more of a sit-and-read-on-the-beach girl.”
“Seriously, let’s do something else, then. We can hit the outlet malls in Rehoboth Beach, go shopping.”
“Oh, no, we’re going.” Pointing at him, she laughed. “But if I drown, it’s your fault. And you owe me shopping some other day.”
Any time. “All right. I won’t let you drown, I promise.” He opened her front door, and followed her out, grabbing the towel he’d tossed on the wicker chair on his way in.
Ten minutes later they stood on the sand. “Come on, it’s better to do it all at once.”
“Just a minute.” She unbelted the cover up, revealing a purple one piece. She sucked in a long breath and winced. “OK.”
He grabbed her hand and ran into the surf. The water was warm and he ducked under an approaching wave. He came up to find her gasping. His chest constricted. Had he pushed her too far? He grasped her shoulders. “Are you OK?”
Her green eyes widened and she stared at him, hand over her mouth, for several seconds.
Oh, God, what have I done? Please let her breathe. His heart raced faster. She’d never speak to him again.
Without warning she burst into laughter.
“Oh, that was fun! Terrifying, but fun!”
Relief washed over him. “Oh, I thought I’d really hurt you!” He closed his eyes and exhaled a forceful breath.
She laughed again. “So did I for a minute.”
“Up for more, or done now?”
She answered him by diving farther into the next wave.
They swam for a couple hours, until Ian’s stomach begin to rumble. “Are you hungry?”
“Yeah. This works up an appetite.”
“Had any beach fries since you’ve been back?”
“Nope. They still open?”
“Some of them.”
After toweling off, he pulled on a T-shirt while she donned her cover up. They crossed the sand and climbed the steps. Boarded-up souvenir shops lined the street side of the boardwalk. At Main Street the walkway opened onto the brick-paved town center, surrounded by boutiques and restaurants. A bandstand sat on the southwest corner, with shiny white benches facing the stage.
About halfway through the center, he grabbed her hand. “Trust me?”
She grinned. “Not sure yet.”
He walked though the town center to a place called AB’s Fries and at the window, he ordered two fish combos and two large Cokes.
“How do you know I like Coke?”
He pulled out his wallet. “One, I saw an empty can on the coffee table before we left, and two, you get your own drink.”
She laughed while he accepted his change.
He grabbed the two cups, handed her one and gestured to the fountain drink machine. “See? What do you want?”
“Coke. What else is there?”
A young worker handed them baskets of deep-fried fish fillets and fries. Ian reached for a yellow metal spice container and sprinkled it liberally over the fries.
She gave him a sideways glance a
nd then followed him back to the benches. The breaded fish was hot, tender and delicious. “Mmm, this is great.” She pointed to his fries. “You put Old Bay on your fries?”
“I put Old Bay on everything. Try it.”
She stuffed a couple in her mouth. “They’re good. A little spicy, but lots of flavor.”
“Obviously you’re not a native. It’s quite popular around here. Pretty regional, though. Got about a dozen different spices in it. My mom puts it in everything. Used to, anyway.” His heart ached at the thought of her never cooking anymore.
CHAPTER SEVEN
HOPE NOTICED THE FLASH OF ... something ... that crossed his face as he went silent a moment. “What happened to her?”
He winced. “She has Alzheimer’s. That’s why my dad retired, to take full-time care of her.” The pain in his eyes tugged at her heart. What happened to the strong, happy-go-lucky guy she’d come to know?
“I’m sorry. That must be really hard. For all of you.” She squeezed his hand.
“Thank you.”
“What do you miss the most?”
He blinked. “What?”
“What do you miss the most about her?”
He breathed deeply, put his food down and sat back against the bench resting his elbows along the back. “I miss talking to her. I could tell her everything. She had this way of listening to you that made everything else fade away, you know?”
She did know. He must have gotten it from her.
“She really paid attention. And she never offered cheap platitudes. She often pointed me to the Bible, but she never rushed me through the pain. Sometimes I didn’t like that at the time, but in the end, it was good. I ended up growing stronger.”
He stared out at the ocean. “She loved the beach. She was the one who was from here, generations back. Dad met her in college, and when they married they moved here. She refused to live anywhere else—said it was a deal-breaker.” He smiled, for only a moment. “You know the hardest part?”
Hope shook her head.
“Feeling so helpless. She looks so ... normal. She looks like she’s always looked. But she’s ... just not.”
“What’s your favorite memory of her?”
Just Until Christmas Page 2
