by Amy Lyon
Sara laughed and felt an imaginary bubble of hope inflate around her. First, the cheap rent on the shop and cottage, and now a discount on furniture. Was it possible things were finally falling into place for her?
“Thanks for giving me a deal on the furniture,” Sara said as she followed Gloria to the checkout.
“You deserve it, darlin’,” Gloria said over her shoulder.
And Sara’s bubble burst. Did she look so desperate that complete strangers felt sorry for her?
Andi slid in next to her. “I see you’ve met Gloria. She works at the church part-time.”
Sara nodded and managed a small smile. Had Andi shared with the whole island that her sad cousin was moving to town and needed everyone’s sympathy?
The furniture was loaded into the back of the truck in short order. As Sara opened the door to slip into the passenger seat, Gloria hustled up to her.
“I’ve got a nugget for you,” she said, eyes beaming behind the glasses.
“A what?”
“Nugget,” Gloria repeated. “An important piece of information to carry with you today.”
Sara looked to Andi, who nodded from the driver’s seat. “The nugget she gave me changed my life.”
“Grace,” Gloria said and took Sara’s hand. “You are never beyond God’s power and grace. You may get beyond where you believe God can reach you, but remember, the power is not in you, it’s in Him.” She squeezed Sara’s hand. “God’s healing doesn’t make you good as new. It makes you better than new.”
Sara’s body heat rose several degrees as the random words from this random woman stirred a fire inside her. She and God hadn’t been on speaking terms since Mack died and Sara sensed she was being punished for her role in his death. What other explanation was there for the way her life had fallen apart so quickly?
But Gloria made her wonder for the first time in a long time if maybe it wasn’t time to reopen that line of communication.
Andi guided the truck over the large causeway that connected Mimosa Key to the mainland, and they headed to a cozy little bistro with a patio for lunch. They parked the truck and got out, Andi leading the way.
A live reggae band played on the pier that led to the restaurant. Sara paused to tip her face to the sun to soak up the Vitamin D. The reality that this was “just another day in paradise,” as Jackson called life on the southwest coast of Florida, stirred excitement in the pit of her stomach. Minnesota was beautiful in the summer, but the winters were harsh and Sara wasn’t much of an outdoorsy person when the temperature dropped below fifty.
The sunshine suited her.
“This is the exact table where Matt and I sat on our second date,” Andi said, winding through the tables to claim a high-top table that overlooked the water.
Sara playfully rolled her eyes. “You’re smitten. I can’t wait to meet this guy.”
“Tomorrow night,” Andi said. “And Jackson is going to join us for dinner, if that’s okay.”
Sara sucked in a quick breath as the energy rush made its way through her body. “Of course. Why wouldn’t it be okay?”
“We thought you two should get to know each other before the wedding, since you’re the maid of honor and he’s the best man.”
“I feel like I already know him,” Sara said, recalling her first glimpse of him in the doorway of her shop, the setting sun framing him with a majestic silhouette effect.
“Yeah, he’s a pretty great guy.” Andi opened her menu and read a few items out loud, giving Sara a rundown of the best choices.
After the server departed with their orders, Sara folded her hands in front of her and looked at her cousin. “So what’s wrong with him?”
“Who?”
“Jackson.”
Andi looked taken aback. “That’s not very nice.”
Sara shrugged. “Exactly. He seems too nice.”
“He was in the military,” Andi said. “He was wounded and moved back to Mimosa Key and got an honorable discharge.”
“He mentioned that,” Sara said, thankful she had sunglasses to hide her interest. “I met his dog.”
“Aw, Jax. So sweet.”
They sat for a few minutes in silence, watching boats travel through Mimosa Harbor. Sara had driven over the causeway in the rental truck less than twenty-four hours ago, and now, relaxing by the water, she didn’t think she’d ever tire of the views. The ambiance, minus the palm trees and humidity, reminded her of Sleepy Lake, where she and Andi grew up in Minnesota. In many ways she longed for her childhood, where the toughest decision was whether to get to the park by bike or skateboard.
She longed for the days when life and death didn’t hinge on her decisions.
Andi cleared her throat, immediately regaining Sara’s attention. “So, you really want me to tell you what’s wrong with him?”
Sara straightened and shrugged, feigning disinterest.
“Nothing,” Andi said. “So how about I tell you what’s right with him?”
“There’s always something wrong,” Sara muttered and silently counted the palm trees along the shoreline.
“Why does something have to be wrong with him? When did you become such a Negative Nellie?”
She looked up and Andi recoiled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“It’s fine,” Sara said and waved her hand. “But the other shoe always drops, Andi. You know that as well as I do.”
Her cousin leaned forward. “Not since I moved here. Not since I met Matt. Life can turn around, Sara. It can turn around for you, too.”
Sara rubbed the chill bumps that formed on her arms, despite the heat. “I doubt that. I think you’re just one of the lucky ones.” She felt the lump in her throat and changed the subject. “Hey, earlier you said I have Jackson to thank for the rent. Did he strike a deal with the landlord or something?”
“Strike a deal?” Andi took her sunglasses off. “You do know he is the landlord, right?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I was texting with some guy named J.T.—”
“That’s Jackson. Thomas is his middle name. J.T. is a nickname that Matt said started in high school.” She shrugged. “I like Jackson better myself.”
Sara’s face grew warm as she tried to put the pieces together. “You sent me links to several other places on the island, so I know what a deal it is. How can he afford to take such a cut in rent when he could be getting a thousand a month?”
“A thousand easily,” Andi agreed.
“So why didn’t he rent it to someone else?”
“Matt told him about you at one of the Chamber of Commerce networking meetings, and mentioned you were looking for a place to rent and expand your business, but only had X amount to spend. Matt shared your story and Jackson said he’d do anything to help.”
Sara pushed back in her chair. “He felt sorry for me?”
Andi’s eyes flipped up. “No! He’s genuinely a nice guy and this whole landlording thing is new to him. His dad used to take care of that stuff.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “I should have known this was too good to be true.”
“Does it matter?” Andi’s voice was insistent. “You’re getting a killer deal, which will help you focus on your business, which is what you need to do right now. Fresh start, remember?”
“But what about Jackson’s business? You can’t tell me an extra five-hundred a month wouldn’t help him.”
Not to mention she didn’t see any cars in front of Beachside Rentals last night when she arrived and there were no customers this morning while she was there. Not even a phone call on that old rotary-dial phone.
Andi rocked side to side in her chair. “I think his business is struggling like a lot of people’s on the island, which is why the Chamber of Commerce is stepping up its game. And I think Jackson could do a better job of getting the word out—”
Sara grunted. “That’s for sure.”
Andi touched Sara’s arm. “But he’s had a pretty rough go of
it himself the last couple of years. You should give him some slack and accept his kindness.” She gave Sara’s arm a squeeze. “Plus it sounds like the rental business has really declined since Bob’s Bait Shop went out of business.”
“How long has my space been empty?”
“Six months maybe.”
“What was Bob paying for rent?”
Andi shook her head. “Bob’s and Jackson’s situation was different. You’ll have to ask Jackson about that.”
Sara held up her hand. “One more question: Who paid for all of the updates to the cottage?”
“You couldn’t have lived there the way it was—”
“Who paid for it?”
“Jackson,” Andi said grudgingly. She looked out over the water. “Hey, look! Dolphins! They’re playing in the harbor.”
Sara gave the water a sideways glance, but she couldn’t focus on marine life right now. She never asked for handouts and she sure as heck didn’t expect one from her landlord because he felt sorry for her. That cottage was updated to perfection and the shop wasn’t in bad shape either, aside from the smell. But she wasn’t about to watch him lose his business so she could have her fresh start.
She didn’t deserve sympathy and she wouldn’t accept charity.
By the time Sara climbed the stairs to Beachside Rentals that evening, she was fully riled up. Not only did she feel like Jackson’s philanthropic project, but she had a sofa and love seat on her porch that she couldn’t wrangle through the front door. Andi had offered to bring Matt back to help, but Sara insisted she could manage.
She scanned the parking lot before entering. No one.
Yet Jackson beamed at her like business was booming as he made his way to the front of the store.
“Hey, how was the shopping?”
Sara pushed her hands onto her hips. “What time do you close?”
Jackson straightened at her tone. “Why, you need some help? It’s quiet around here. I can come over now.”
Sara shook her head. “Can you come by the cottage before you leave for the night? I have something I need to talk to you about.”
“Everything okay?”
She didn’t want to make a scene here, even though there was no one around to witness the display, so she turned on her heel.
“Everything’s fine,” she said over her shoulder and left the shop.
CHAPTER THREE
Jackson rubbed the back of his neck as he rounded the corner along the path that led to Sara’s cottage. Creeping Charlie made its way through the sidewalk cracks and he mentally added weed control to his growing list of landlord duties.
If he read Sara right, she was on edge about something when she came to the shop. He prayed there wasn’t a problem with the air conditioner. That old unit would be the next big ticket item to go and he’d count his blessings for every day that contraption kept running.
“Ah-ha,” he said when he stopped at the front porch and saw the couch and love seat. She really needed to learn how to ask for help.
He knocked on the door. When Sara appeared from the kitchen and pushed open the screen, he felt that excited thump back in his chest.
“You should keep this screen locked if you’re going to have the front door open,” he said.
“Sketchy neighborhood?” she asked, holding the door open so he could step inside.
“Nice dining room set,” he said, pulling out one of four stools that sat around the small table. “I like the white. Very beachy.”
“I already had it,” she said flatly and waved to the porch. “The living room set is new.”
The straight line of her lips and the fact she avoided eye contact didn’t give him much insight into the situation.
“Did you get furniture for your bedroom, too?”
Sara pulled two glasses from a box, rinsed them and poured iced tea. “That’s a project for another day. The blowup mattress is fine for now.” She brought the glasses to the table and sat opposite him. “I didn’t ask you over to show off my furniture.”
Jackson bristled. “Right, you need help bringing in the couch. I’ll grab my drill and take that door off—”
“That can wait. I’m more concerned about you being my landlord, Jackson. Or should I call you J.T.?”
He shifted in his seat. Well, he didn’t see that coming.
“You lied to me—”
“I never lied.”
“Okay, you led me to believe someone else owned these buildings and you just helped him out with minor repairs and—” she waved an arm over her head “—an entire cottage remodel.”
Jackson lifted his glass and wiped the sweat ring off the table. “Does it matter as long as things get done?”
Sara closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “It matters to me,” she said and her voice was so small he barely heard her.
He cleared his throat. “Look, I’ll be honest. When I first saw you last night in the shop I thought—” he rubbed his chin “—well, I didn’t want you to know who I was.”
Sara’s eyebrows arched up. “Why?”
He chuckled. “Because you were so ticked off about the smell and I didn’t want you to freak out on me.” He held out his hands apologetically. “I wanted our first face-to-face meeting to be a good one.”
Her face softened.
Jackson had spent a good chunk of his childhood summers going in and out of Bob’s Bait Shop. Somewhere along the line he must have gotten used to the smell, which admittedly had to be pretty offensive to first-time visitors. Thinking about Sara’s scrunched up face and attempts to air out the place made him laugh again.
But Sara wasn’t amused.
“This isn’t funny,” she said, her volume rising. She rose to her feet and paced the small room. “While that stink may be funny to you, it’s going to be a huge problem for Sweet Serenity, a business that prides itself on—” she made air quotes above her head “—scents that transport you to a happier place.”
Jackson drew his lips together and nodded.
“But let’s forget about the smell for a minute,” she said, pulling out the words impatiently. “You could easily bring in more than five-hundred dollars a month in rent for the shop and this cottage, especially being right across from the ocean.”
He leaned back in his chair. A normal person would be happy about getting a deal on rent, but she paced the room with shaking hands and—he zeroed in on her mouth—was that a quivering lower lip?
Oh no, he wouldn’t make her cry again. Jackson sprang to his feet and stood in front of her.
“Maybe I could charge more,” he agreed, “but Andi said you can’t afford more than—”
“I don’t care what Andi said,” she nipped out, then pushed her hands onto her sides as she took a deep breath, went around him and continued to pace. “I’m sorry. This isn’t about me and my finances, Jackson. This is about you barely hanging on to your own shop and giving away the farm to me.”
Wow, the cousins covered a lot of ground today.
He exhaled hard and rubbed his chin. “Well, that’s my business, isn’t it?”
From lowered lids, she shot an insistent look at him. “Exactly! Your business is suffering and I’m adding to the problem.”
“It’s only money, Sara.”
She stopped pacing and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not some charity case. I appreciate that you and Andi and Matt are trying to take care of me, but I can take care of myself.”
“Of course you can. You’re an adult.”
She flinched. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“No one’s questioning your ability to take care of yourself, Sara. Rather, you question why people are nice to you and want to help you. It’s a strange concept, I know.” He gritted his teeth. “I’ll get my drill so we can get that couch inside.”
He left the cottage without waiting for her response. He was pretty sure Sara could argue her way around any topic, especially if someone was trying to do something nice
for her.
He sucked in a breath of salty night air. Maybe this fierce independence was part of the grieving process for her. Heaven knows he’d gone off the deep end a few times after his honorable discharge and again before Christmas when his dad passed away.
Life was full of ground swells, but he saw firsthand that the right people often rode in on those massive breakers with flawless timing and for a reason. Not as a matter of cliché, but rather to show him there was enough good in people to outweigh the bad that seemed to run rampant.
To say the last two years had been life-changing for him was an understatement, but maybe something he’d learned could help Sara.
When he arrived back at the cottage, she waited on the couch with her bare feet tucked under her.
“I’m sorry I got snappy,” she said. “I’d like to be able to help you more. Financially. I don’t want to be a burden on anyone.”
Jackson sighed and climbed the stairs. “You’re not a burden, Sara. Trust me.” He unbolted the hinge on the screen door, then made quick work of unscrewing the main door from the frame. “In fact, I would say just the opposite.”
She craned her neck to look at him over the back of the couch.
“You’re a blessing,” he said.
She clucked her tongue in disagreement, but that didn’t faze him. Jackson knew he was a good judge of people and situations. Vigilance was a critical piece of the work he did in the Army. And once they got the furniture into the room and arranged to her liking, he sat and decided to dig a little deeper.
“You know, it’s all right to ask for help, Sara,” he said, stretching one arm over the back of the love seat.
She sat on the couch across from him, crossed her legs hippie style and leaned her elbows on her knees. “I really don’t want to be a burden on anyone.”
“That’s the second time you’ve said that. Why in the world would you think you’re a burden?”
She twisted her hands in her lap. “I’m going to tell you something,” she said, uncertainty in her voice.
“Go ahead.”
“Mack, my husband, or my former husband, or should I say my husband who passed away—” She searched the floor for words.
