by Tracy Brogan
“Good morning, everyone. I’m really excited about this project and want to thank you all for being a part of it. We’re going to take this poor old house and turn it back into a wonderful rental cottage. Let’s start with some introductions, shall we?” She walked up onto the porch, careful to not let her heel plunge into some crevice in the wood. Falling out of her shoe was no way to make a good impression.
“I’ll leave you to it then,” Gigi said. “I’m off to take my great-granddaughter to Fort Beaumont, and then we’re going shopping. You kids have fun.”
They all called out their goodbyes, and Emily was on her own with getting to know her new crew. She extended her hand to Tiny, and his paw nearly swallowed hers.
“Pleased to meet you, Tiny. I’m Emily.”
His eyes were pale blue with a nice twinkle in them, and she allowed herself to hope that he might not be such a menace after all. Maybe he’d be like the kind of grizzly bear that wanted to rummage through your camping cooler looking for snacks and not the kind of grizzly bear that was planning to kill you.
He took over with introductions, stepping into his role as foreman already. That was a good sign. “This here is Garth Reynolds, and that’s his sister, Georgiana,” Tiny said, gesturing toward Suspender Guy and Cramps Girl. Emily shook hands with Garth and resisted the urge to wipe her own afterward, what with his nose rubbing and all.
“Nice to meet you again, Emily,” Garth said. “You probably don’t remember me, but my family lives on Big Pine Lane. I was about nine when you hightailed it out of here with that visiting college fella. Big news that summer. Whatever happened to him?”
Excellent. That’s exactly what she wanted to talk about right now. “I married him, and then I divorced him.”
Garth’s sister stepped in front of him, pushing him aside with her hip. “Ignore my brother. I’m Georgie. Or Geo. Whatever. Do you have any ibuprofen? These cramps are a bitch.”
What Georgie lacked in charm, she made up for in . . . lack of charm.
“Um, I don’t think I have any ibuprofen, but you’ve reminded me I’d better make sure we have a first aid kit on site. Thanks.”
Georgie turned away and slumped down against the wall, and Emily smiled at Wyatt, reaching out to shake his hand.
“That’s Wyatt,” Tiny said.
“Hi, Wyatt. I remember you. How are you?” It was nice to see at least one familiar face on this crew. She’d been friends with his sister, and that made him an ally of sorts. Hopefully.
“Can’t complain, Peach. Uh, I mean, Ms. Callaghan. Or, uh . . .”
“You can call me Emily,” she said to the group in general.
Wyatt smiled. “Welcome home, Emily. I’m glad for the work. My sister told me to tell you hello.”
“Tell her I said hello back. What’s she doing now?”
“She’s a teacher. Moved to Manitou a few years ago, but she visits the island all the time.”
“Good. I hope I get a chance to see her this summer.”
Wyatt nodded as Emily turned to Hottie McSix-Pack. Damn. He really was distractingly cute. She felt like a snowman melting under his deep-blue gaze.
“I’m Matt,” he said, as he clasped her hand in both of his and gave a tiny little bow of his head. “Namaste.”
What? “Um, thanks?”
“The energy in this house is very sad, but I’m sure we can bring it joy. You were very wise to wear white.”
“I was?”
He nodded. “It calls forth the light. My spirit guides tell me you are just what this place needs.”
Hm. Interesting. Perhaps Matt could share some of his meds with Georgie to make her cramps go away.
She extricated her hand from his. “Thank you, Matt. I certainly hope your spirit guides are correct.” She looked around. “Is this everyone then?”
The sound of a bike tire pealing out on gravel hit her ear, and she turned to see a disheveled man hopping off a rusty Schwinn and running up the steps, two at a time. One of his plaid shirttails was tucked in while the other flapped in the wind, and he appeared to be wearing two different shoes.
“Hi! Hello! Hey there! What’d I miss? Sorry I’m late, Peach!” He jabbed his hand forward, grabbing Emily’s and pumping it up and down.
Horsey Davidson. They’d gone to school together, and like her nickname, his had stuck. He’d had some big yellow teeth as a teenager, and when he smiled, she saw they were still big and still yellow, and now they seemed to protrude forward even more than she remembered.
Garth leaned toward Matt. “He thinks we call him Horsey on account of his teeth, but my cousin Alma says otherwise.”
The men chuckled, Georgie made a retching sound, but Horsey shushed them all with a glare. “Behave yourselves, you hogs.”
“That’s everyone now,” Tiny said, and Emily didn’t know whether to laugh or cry or just crawl under this front porch to hide. This was a team of mutants, to be sure. Hopefully they had some hidden superpowers that would help them band together and get this cottage renovated in record time, but either way, it was going to be One. Long. Summer.
DUDE, ANY PROGRESS?????
Ryan read the text from his brother and responded, WORKING ON IT. CALL U LTR.
“For goodness’ sake, Ry. You’re just like a teenager. I can’t keep you off that damn phone long enough to enjoy the view,” Tag said, walking five feet ahead of him on a rocky ascending path. They were on their way to something called Bent Rock. Ryan had at least convinced his father that they didn’t need to do it before sunrise, so it was midday, sunny, but windy as hell high up on these bluffs.
“Some of us work for a living and have emails to check, but I guess you wouldn’t know anything about that, now, would you.”
“You’re hilarious, son. I got up at six this morning and worked for two hours before you even called me. You’re the one who didn’t want to drag his ass out of bed. We can head over to the Clairmont Hotel this afternoon and I’ll show you what I’ve done so far.” The Clairmont was the twelve-guestroom hotel that Tag was working on. As of yet, Ryan hadn’t gotten him to say much about the other project.
“I read the portfolio and saw the status updates. Sounds like you’re making good progress with the new interior designs.”
His father nodded and pulled his baseball hat down, adjusting the brim. “I have some ideas to show the owners, but I was hoping you’d look them over and see what you think. It’s my opinion that we should go for a boutique hotel feel, but they’re worried that if they spend too much on the upgrades, they’ll have to raise their rates and will lose customers.”
“Time for a little rebranding lesson, I take it?”
“Exactly. That’s where you come in, since you’re so good at convincing people to spend money to make money. I’ve done the market analysis and the island can support the business, but so far their marketing plan has been a static website with a phone number to call to check on reservations. I wonder how many customers they’ve lost just because of that antiquated method?”
“I guess that goes with the horse-and-buggy mentality. Nothing too modern.” This was just about the time he wanted to ask his father, again, why he’d taken on that project in the first place, but he didn’t want to start another fight. Arguing with Tag about Lilly was the only battle he could handle at the moment.
“The Clairmont definitely needs to move into this century with their systems, even if we decide to keep the décor timeless. And speaking of timeless, this sure never gets old. Come on up here and check out this view.”
Ryan made his way forward and reached the plateau where his dad was now standing, and looked around.
“Well, shit, Dad. You’re right. This is an amazing view.” The fresh blue water went on all the way to the horizon, and off to the left was the Petoskey Bridge, a suspended structure that connected Michigan’s upper and lower peninsulas. From both an esthetic and an engineering standpoint, the thing was impressive.
Tag pointed. “That�
�s Petoskey Bridge, of course. According to the locals, it’s five miles long and weighs over a million tons. Impressive, right?”
Ryan chuckled because the very same word had been in his head. He and his father shared a similar appreciation for design and functionality. “Very.”
“Link, down at Link & Patty’s, told me there were four thousand engineering drawings and eighty-five thousand blueprints. Can you imagine? With that many drawings, they could have built the damn thing out of the paper they used.”
“Makes me pretty damn glad we build hotels and condos instead of bridges.”
“No kidding, but speaking of building, turn and look that way.” Tag pointed off to the east. “See that area over there? The hilly spot with the pink cottage?”
Ryan shielded his eyes from the sun. It was far from where they stood, but he could just barely make it out. “I think I see where you’re talking about.”
“That’s the spot I talked to Bryce about. It has amazing potential. There are a few hoops to jump through for this one, but I think it would be worth it.”
“What kind of hoops?”
“Well, for one thing, the investors don’t actually own the land.”
“Is it for sale?”
“Not exactly.” Tag hesitated, smiling and looking off toward the little pink cottage.
Ryan was feeling his patience thin. “Dad, I can’t do whatever it is you want me to do unless you tell me what you want. What’s the story here? Who are the investors?”
His father actually chuckled, and Ryan wasn’t sure if that made him feel more annoyed or slightly less annoyed.
“April, May, and June Mahoney. Three sisters, well into their seventies, who have apparently been saving their pennies for a very long time. They want Taggert Property Management to buy that place for them and design a three-story bed-and-breakfast, but there are two issues. First, no one on the island can know that it’s them trying to buy it.”
“Why?”
“Apparently there is some bad blood between the Mahoneys and some of the other local families, and our investors are worried that if anyone finds out it’s them trying to secure the place, they’ll lose it to another buyer.”
“Okay. We should be able to work around that. What’s the other problem?”
“They’re waiting for the owner of that pink cottage to die.”
“What?” The rocks shifted a little under Ryan’s feet, causing him to wobble.
“It’s not quite as bad as it sounds,” Tag replied. “The woman who lives there is a hundred and two years old. She has no family left because she’s outlived them all, except for some derelict nephew down in Tampa who never comes to visit. The Mahoneys are sure she’s going to kick the bucket any day now, and when she goes, they want to be ready. They want the surveys done and the plans drawn up and everything.”
Ryan crossed his arms and stared at his father. “So, if I’m hearing you right, we are waiting for some poor little old lady to die so that three other little old ladies can swoop in and snatch up her property before some nephew shows up and lays claim to it? Classy, Dad. Real classy. No wonder you’ve been avoiding the details.”
Tag did not seem at all chagrined about this deal. “What? It’s a good deal, and I wanted to discuss it with you in person so you could see what a great spot it is. It’s a perfect place for a bed-and-breakfast. It’s even got access to the water, but obviously I can’t head up the project. I’m retiring, you know, and I can’t wait around for this poor woman’s imminent demise.”
“Oh, but I can?”
Tag stepped forward. “All I’m asking you to do is look into the basics. Figure out if the current electrical and water systems are in place to support a six- or eight-room bed-and-breakfast. See if there are any liens or if that house has a historical designation and can’t be torn down. Maybe draw up some rough sketches for them to see. I already did a few for the Mahoneys, but I made copies, so I’ll give those to you.”
“So have you committed to these Mulligan sisters? Have they signed a contract?”
“Mahoney, and no, but they want to as soon as possible. One of them told me that apparently the pink house’s owner, Bridget O’Malley, was looking none too lively at church last week.”
Ryan couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Geez, Dad. That’s cold.”
Tag shrugged. “It’s just business, and trust me, these Mahoneys are not sweet little old ladies. They are barracudas. Somebody is going to buy that place pretty soon, and it’s a win-win for the company either way. The Mahoneys are willing to pay us for all the plans and research even if we ultimately can’t get the property. That’s how determined they are to be ready. They also have a handful of cottages, four or five, I think, and they’d like those remodeled, and they also want us to computerize their reservation system. They’re worse off than the Clairmont. They don’t even have a website. They just count on word-of-mouth recommendations. How’s that for antiquated?”
“Very antiquated, but Dad, I’m still not feeling great about this. It seems like there is a lot of potential for this to be a dead end.”
Tag laughed, and Ryan joined him once he realized his poor choice of words.
“Tell you what. The truth is, I’ve already set you up for a meeting. Just talk to them, see what you think, maybe take a walk over to the property to see it up close. What can it hurt? You’re already here, right?”
“You know, for a guy who’s retiring, you seem awfully interested in the company taking on a new project.”
“It’s more like a favor. My flight instructor is April Mahoney’s son, and I promised him I could help them out. I got six free flying lessons out of the deal.”
“If I meet with them, shouldn’t I be the one getting the free lessons?”
“Sure, if you want them, but I’m not letting you fly my plane. You’ll have to get your own.”
Chapter 13
“I’m not sure I can do it, Jewel,” Emily murmured into the phone from her bedroom at Gigi’s house. “You should see this place I have to renovate, and you should see my crew. One of them is so skinny I’m not sure he can lift a hammer.”
“You’ll be fine, hon. You’re like a cat. You always land on your feet.”
Jewel had the most positive outlook of any person Emily had ever met, and although she sure did need the pep talk at the moment, she couldn’t help but remember how it was Jewel’s delusional sense that everything would always work out that had prompted them to buy the disaster place in San Antonio.
“I need this flip to go flawlessly, though,” Emily said. “The last thing my family saw me do was run away and get married to a loser. And then get divorced. If they find out I borrowed money from Gigi, I’ll never live it down, so this is my chance to show them that I’ve grown up, that I’m a responsible adult now and not still the wild, obnoxious kid I used to be.”
“They’re going to see that, Em. Just be yourself. I’ve seen you succeed time and again, under the toughest of circumstances. You’ve got this.” If Jewel had pom-poms, she was certainly waving them wildly on her side of the phone. Still, her vote of confidence was encouraging. They had handled some pretty intense remodels over the past few years. This was not Emily’s first rodeo.
“Okay. I hear you. I can do this.” Put me in, Coach. I’m ready for the big game.
“Yes, you can. Write that on your bathroom mirror with lipstick to remind you every day. Hey, by the way, how’s our Chloe holding up? Is there Wi-Fi?” She asked about Wi-Fi with the same gravity as asking, Is there a cure?
Emily laughed. “Yes, there’s Wi-Fi, thank goodness. She’s taken about a thousand selfies since we got here, which is down from her usual two thousand per day.”
“She’s slipping. Tell her to send me some. I miss seeing her face. I miss seeing your face, too, but Kevin has been keeping me company.”
“Kevin the electrician?”
“Yeah, we’ve been spending some time together since he’s working at the disaste
r house. The other night he offered to come to our house and fix that broken light fixture in the hallway. You know, the one that only turns on half the time? Anyway, he offered to fix it, but he wouldn’t let me pay him with cash, so I made him dinner instead. It was fun.”
“Fun, huh? Just fun? Or something more?”
Jewel’s pause was telling. “I think it’s just fun, but I’ll keep you posted. I’m cooking for him again tonight. It’s sort of like playing house with a Ken doll instead of a place full of Barbies. He loves our pink bathroom, by the way. He says it’s bringing out his more sensitive side.”
Jewel sounded cautiously hopeful. Her boyfriend status was even more barren than Emily’s, so this was a nice change. “That sounds like it could lead to more than fun. You’d better keep me posted on those details, but speaking of bathrooms, how’s it going getting the plumbing fixed in the master bedroom at the disaster house?”
“They’re just about finished, and I have the drywall guys coming back to fix all the walls damaged by the leaks. We’re on track to have everything done next week so I can get it on the market. I cannot wait to sell that place.”
“You and me both. Don’t forget to keep me posted, okay?”
“I will, and you keep me posted on your cottage. And tell Chloe to call me. I’d like to hear what she thinks of Exile Island.”
Emily smiled. “I think she’s pleasantly surprised. She met some kids the other day at the Lilac Festival, and she’s got about ten distant cousins here who are roughly the same age. I think she’ll be spending some time with them. And she thinks my dad’s jokes are funny, so she’s becoming his favorite, which is a huge relief. Last time I came here, he barely looked at either one of us.”
That last visit had been rough for Emily in so many ways. She’d known a divorce from Nick was imminent, and she was testing the waters to see if maybe, just maybe, it was time to come home. But it wasn’t. Harlan wasn’t done being angry, and Emily returned to Texas without even telling anyone her marriage was over. She told them about a year later, when everything was finalized. But so far, this visit was going much better, and it seemed she had Chloe’s Lilly-esque charm to thank for it.
