While the coffee brewed, she tidied up. Noelle had left out the cereal box, Ben’s crumb-filled plate remained on the table beside a half-empty glass of milk, and Max’s boat model mess was strewn across the end of the table. She wasn’t used to clutter, and clearly the children weren’t used to picking up after themselves.
When the coffeemaker beeped, she poured a steaming mug, inhaling the rich brew. For all the outdated appliances, Eva had understood the importance of a good cup of java.
The deep-roasted smell filled the kitchen. It would be rude not to offer the man a cup. His legs sprawled across the kitchen floor, extending from the dishwasher’s side. She followed the length of them down to the white sock where his second toe peeked through a hole. Somehow that little detail made him very real.
She shook her head. Silly.
“Coffee?”
“Maybe later, thanks.”
He was making noises under there with his tools. She hoped he knew what he was doing. While he worked, Meridith retrieved Eva’s tattered cookbook. They had guests arriving that night for the weekend. Max had said Eva’s cinnamon rolls were always a hit, and the repeat guests expected them.
In preparation for the guests, she’d had a talk with the children about Piper. No amount of explaining about food and dog hair or dander was enough to satisfy them, so she’d finally just stated the rule: Piper was now an outdoor dog. She made a nice comfy bed of old quilts in the garage, but even that wasn’t enough to soothe the children, especially Noelle.
Now Meridith opened the cookbook to the cinnamon roll recipe.
She needed a reason to stick around and make sure Jake wasn’t cutting corners.
She set the ingredients on the counter, including the packet of yeast. “Is it okay to run the water?”
“Sure.”
She filled a bowl with warm water, then moved away.
“You the new owner then?” Jake’s voice carried from the cabinet’s cavity.
“How’d you know there was a new owner?”
He strained, grunting, his legs shifting for better hold. “Small island.”
Just because it was a tourist destination in the summer didn’t make it immune to small-town gossip, she supposed.
She wondered if Jake had known Eva and T. J., then decided she didn’t want to know. Didn’t want to know anything about him. Best to keep it—
“Where you from?”
She ripped open the yeast packet and dumped it into the water, then added a teaspoon of sugar. “St. Louis.”
“The ‘show-me state.’ Where’d that phrase come from anyway?”
“There are several theories.” None of which she wanted to discuss. She read the directions again. “Let the yeast sit until it dissolved.” No mention of how long.
“How are the kids coping?”
She sighed. It really was a small island. “As well as can be expected. How’s that leak coming?”
He slid from under the sink and stood, a hose dangling from his hand. “There’s a crimp. Looks like—someone—tried to tighten it.”
His hands were large and dark-skinned. Long fingers, tapering down to squared-off tips. Nice hands.
Back to the hose. “Oh.”
Two seconds later he was under the sink again. She turned back to the yeast. It looked the same, so she started on the dough.
“What did you do in St. Louis?”
Well, wasn’t he Mr. Chatty today. “Safety inspector.”
“Aaaahh.”
There was something more to that aaahh, but she didn’t care to know what.
“Commercial, residential . . . ?”
“Restaurants and hotels mainly.” Maybe she should hand him her résumé and be done with it. She poured in the flour and dumped in the yeast mixture.
“That’s handy.”
She set the beaters into the mixture and turned it on. She smiled as a nice loud buzz filled the room. She worked the beaters around the dough, adding flour as she thought necessary. When it was well blended and stiff, she turned off the mixer. Now for the kneading. She removed her engagement ring and placed it on the counter.
“Nice rock.”
She jumped at the voice, nearer than she expected.
Jake wore a crooked grin. “All fixed.” He had a cleft camouflaged by the stubble on his chin.
She stepped around him. The dishwasher was back in place, the cabinet closed.
“Should I run it through a cycle to make sure?”
“It’s fixed. I’ll take a look under the cabinet later to see if there’s rotting. You wanted those partitions up first, right?”
“Right.”
He made some measurements at the base of the stairs, then exited the room, taking his woodsy scent with him. It was a relief to have him gone. Meridith reheated her coffee, added a dash of cream and sugar, and took a deep sip.
Jake might be convinced the leak was fixed, but she wanted to be certain. She punched the button, starting the wash cycle.
She was up to her wrists in dough when he returned with lumber. He set down the wood, and a few moments later he began hammering, the loud, sharp thwacks echoing off the walls. She cast occasional glances at the dishwasher base.
“Leave your fiancé back home?” Thwack, thwack, thwack.
“Yes.”
He grabbed another nail. One side of his mouth twitched as he lined up the nail. Thwack, thwack, thwack. “What’s he do?”
“He’s an accountant.”
“Aaaahh.”
That same tone. She didn’t know what it meant, but it was annoying. She shook the thought and checked the dishwasher. Satisfied it was fixed, she began loading the breakfast dishes.
“Must be hard to be apart.” Thwack, thwack, thwack.
She gave a tight smile, then returned to scrubbing the plates. How she felt about being apart from Stephen was none of his business. The fact was, it hadn’t been too hard. He called every couple days, and it wasn’t as though they saw each other daily at home. His schedule this time of year didn’t allow for that. It was tax season, after all.
“I bought the doors already, but if you don’t like them, you can pick out different ones.”
“They’re steel? With dead bolts?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She was sure there was sarcasm in the drawled word. Or maybe it was that twitch of his lips again.
“Then they’ll be just fine.” She loaded the forks and started the machine. It whirred loudly into motion.
She decided to start the laundry, as much to put some space between them as anything. Between the kids’ clothes and the bedding, it seemed she was always running a load. She started the washer, then vacuumed the guest suite and fluffed the pillows. Satisfied the room was perfection, she returned to the kitchen to check the dough.
She lifted the cloth and frowned. It was the same smooth ball it had been before. Maybe it needed more time.
She re-covered it and forced herself to check on Jake, stifling the inner voice that was coaxing her to hide in her bedroom the rest of the day.
The new door unit leaned against the wall, so big and heavy-looking it was hard to believe he’d managed it by himself. Her eyes scanned the length of his arms, the width of his shoulders. Okay, maybe not so hard.
She forced an image of Stephen into her mind, the one from the photo on her nightstand upstairs. Wearing a jacket and tie, hair nicely clipped, jaw freshly shaven. The picture of an ideal man.
Feeling reassured, she turned her attention to the doorway. The framing looked sturdy, but the opening seemed wider than the door unit. Or maybe it was the angle.
He held a nail in place and gave three hard taps, driving it home.
“Are you sure it’ll fit?” she asked.
He pulled a nail from between his teeth and set it in place. “I’m sure.” Thwack, thwack, thwack.
“How do you know?”
“I measured.”
She pursed her lips. Well, of course he measured, she ju
st hoped he’d measured right. “I didn’t know the door would come with the frame thing already attached.”
“It’s pre-hung.”
Meridith stepped closer to the new unit and ran her hand over the smooth surface; then she knocked, getting a feel for the door’s sturdiness. It seemed solid.
When she turned, Jake was standing over her. His nearness startled her. “Oh!”
“Need my level.”
Did the man not understand personal space? She stepped back.
His lips twitched as he retrieved the tool. Not just the corner, but his whole lips. Not that she was looking.
“Is something funny?”
He reached toward her, his caramel eyes holding her captive.
Her breath caught in her throat as his hand brushed the side of her face. The touch was nothing but a whisper, but it left a trail of fire. She couldn’t move if she tried. And she wasn’t sure she wanted to.
He held up his finger, and she pulled her eyes from his. “Flour,” he said.
Her scrambled brain took two full seconds, then she turned, wiping her cheek, hating the blush she knew was flooding her face as she exited the room.
Nine
Jake checked his watch, then set down the hammer and took a deep drink of Coke. The kids would be there soon. His ears were tuned for the screeching bus brakes. If he were smart, he’d have told Meridith he had to leave at three o’clock each day so he wouldn’t run the risk of them giving him away.
But then he wouldn’t get to see them, make sure they were safe. Besides, how was he supposed to gather evidence if he didn’t see Meridith with them? So far she seemed relatively normal, but time would tell.
The downstairs partition was complete except for drywall and paint touch-up, but this upstairs doorway was wider, required more framing. He thought the whole concept was ridiculous anyway. What did Meridith think, a serial murderer was coming to stay at a B-and-B on Nantucket? But maybe paranoia was a part of the illness.
He couldn’t help but wonder, though, why she was having the other work done. Was she fixing up the place so she could stay, or fixing it up so she could sell? He couldn’t imagine her fiancé leaving his job and home to come care for someone else’s kids.
The phone rang, and he heard Meridith answer at the base of the stairs. She’d been busy all day, though she made time to stand over his shoulder plenty.
However, he’d discovered the key to getting rid of her. Just a few personal questions, and she ran for cover. He smothered a grin. Might be kind of entertaining.
The screeching bus brakes drew his attention. He hoped Noelle had reminded Ben and Max to be careful. They’d see his truck. At least, he hoped they would. Meridith was still on the phone—good that she was distracted.
The door clicked open, followed by the shuffles of three kids and the rustling of jackets. Had they seen his truck?
They clomped up the stairs, arguing about something someone said on the bus. He heard a smack.
“Stop it! I’m telling!” Ben said.
“Who you going to tell?” Max said.
“Meridith!”
“Shhhhh!” Meridith called. “Children, I’m on the phone with a guest.”
“She’s on the phone with a guest,” Noelle mimicked quietly.
They were nearly to the top now. They hadn’t seen his truck. He had to warn them.
They rounded the corner and he drew his finger to his lips. But not soon enough.
“Uncle J!”
Noelle slapped her hand over Ben’s mouth.
The boy’s eyes rounded. He stopped on the spot.
Noelle froze. So did Max, his eyes widening. Silence filled the loft.
Not a sound came from downstairs. Only the muted pings of the wind chimes stirring on the porch.
Was Meridith still on the phone? Why was she so quiet? Was she on her way upstairs?
Noelle pulled her hand from Ben’s mouth.
“Moron!” Max whispered.
Ben looked ready to cry. Jake set a hand on his shoulder.
Then the muffled sound of Meridith’s voice drifted up the stairs. “I understand. Let me check those dates.” Pages rustled.
Jake released a breath he didn’t realize he’d held.
The kids sagged. Then they threw themselves at him, making Jake stagger backward.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Noelle whispered.
“Shhh.” He pulled them down the hall toward their own cluster of rooms, farther from Meridith’s ears.
“I’m sorry,” Ben said.
“No damage done. But you’re all going to have to watch it.”
“I won’t do it again.”
“Did you find out anything?” Max asked.
“He’s only been here a day,” Noelle said.
“Your sister’s right, this is going to take time.” Though he’d been here long enough to see Meridith was a control freak. Clearly caution was her default.
He could still hear her on the phone, but couldn’t make out the words.
“She’s making Benny ride in a car seat!” Noelle said.
“What?” Ben might be a little guy, but he was too big for that.
“For safety.” Max rolled his eyes.
“Anything else?”
“She took away my iPod.”
“Only during dinner,” Ben said.
“Well, she took your ropes away,” Noelle said.
“Yeah, she did.” Ben frowned.
“You know how he loves his ropes.”
Benny loved practicing knots and rigging up hauling devices for his bike.
“Why’d she take them?”
“Because they’re too dangerous, of course. He might hang himself, you know.”
“Shhhh.” The woman obviously had issues, if not mental illness. Still there was nothing that seemed cruel or dangerous. Nothing helpful. He’d have to— “Children,” Meridith called.
The kids scrambled for the stairs. “What?”
That’s not obvious. Jake sighed.
“Homework time.”
“Great,” Noelle whispered.
Max cast one last persecuted look before they trampled down to meet their fate.
Their guests arrived just after dinner. Mr. and Mrs. Brown were a lovely couple from Maine taking a trip down the coastline to celebrate his retirement. Mrs. Brown had vacationed on the island as a child and couldn’t resist the chance to reminisce.
By the time the children and the Browns were tucked away for the night, Meridith was ready for bed herself. She closed her bedroom door and changed into her nightshirt. It wasn’t until she slipped under the covers that the full weight of her exhaustion hit. The clock only read twenty-five past ten, but her body said it was much later.
She flipped off the lamp and let her body sink into the mattress.
Between readying the rooms, dealing with her failed cinnamon roll recipe, getting the kids through homework and dinner just in time to plaster on a fake smile for the Browns, she was ready to pull the covers over her head and greet oblivion.
Only to do it all again tomorrow.
But it was the weekend, so at least she wouldn’t have to deal with Mr. Fix-it. She could be thankful for that.
The first strains of Vivaldi’s “Spring” filled the room. She felt for her cell phone on the nightstand, then read the screen. She fell back against the pillows and tried to conjure some enthusiasm as she flipped it open.
“Stephen. Hi.” He didn’t usually call so late, but it was an hour earlier there.
“I didn’t wake you, did I?”
“No, no, I was just settling in for the night.” Meridith pulled the covers to her chin and closed her eyes.
“Sorry I haven’t called in a few days.”
“That’s okay. I know you’re busy.”
“How are things there? Are the kids behaving any better?”
She felt a strange urge to defend them but pushed it aside. “They’re as good as can be expected. The re
pairs are underway, and we have guests for the weekend, a nice couple.”
“I drove by your house today and checked on things after I grabbed a quick lunch. Your neighbor has been watering your plants and collecting your mail as she promised.”
She’d told him Mrs. Winters was taking care of everything; why couldn’t he just leave it at that? Meridith sighed. She must be tired to be so irritable. “Thanks for checking.”
“You’re welcome. You say you’ve hired the contractors? I hope you got reasonable bids.”
“I did. I ended up hiring one contractor to do all the work.” Jake’s dark eyes and cocky grin sprang to mind. She shook the image away. “He seems competent.”
“Is he licensed for all that work? You have to be careful about contractors. They’re not the most ethical creatures.”
“I checked him out. He had glowing references and a very reasonable bid.”
“Well, it sounds like you’ve got it under control. I expected no less from my little go-getter.”
He began talking about one of his client’s sloppy records and the debacle it had caused for him that day. Meridith wanted to tell him about her ruined cinnamon rolls and a story Max had shared over dinner, but by the time he finished his detailed story, her energy had evaporated and she was eager to be off the phone.
She needed to tell him about her decision to keep the children, but it was late, too late to introduce a heavy topic, and besides, she was losing energy by the second.
Ten minutes later she flipped her phone closed and drifted off to the muted sound of the wind chimes.
A voice screamed. Meridith bolted upright. What was that? Had she been dreaming? She checked the clock. It was after midnight. Her heart beat so hard, the bed shook with the pounding. Her ears perked, listening for whatever had woken her.
“No!”
Max! She leapt from the bed and raced toward the boys’ room. What if someone was hurting him? What if the nice-seeming Mr. Brown really wasn’t nice at all? If only Jake had finished the upstairs partition.
It seemed to take an hour to reach the room. She flipped on the light. Max thrashed in the bed, his face screwed up as if he were in torment. He whimpered. In the top bunk, Ben somehow slept peacefully.
Driftwood Lane Page 5
