“Just wait,” Maya said. “It gets better. It’s not fully set up yet.”
Jake appeared, dragging what appeared to be a wooden arch that had been painted a deep blue.
“Come check out the inside while Jake finishes getting it ready.” Maya opened the rear door. “We removed the seats and built a little exam ‘room.’ Well, by ‘we,’ I mean Jake.”
“Wow,” Nora said again. It seemed to be the only word she could summon when it came to this crazy van. She glanced at Jake. He was attaching the arch to the top of the van.
“I know you’re not going to give shots today,” Maya continued, “but I thought in the future, you could drive it around.”
“Hang on now. That might be a long shot,” Pearl said. “It barely made it here.”
“We can find you a mini refrigerator that you plug into the lighter, and you can be a mobile clinic,” Maya said, ignoring Pearl. “Like the ice cream truck!”
“Except instead of dispensing tasty treats, she’ll stab people with needles,” Law said.
“Oh, shut up, Benjamin.”
“Don’t you need to go get ready for the parade, Queen Maya?” Law asked.
“No, Benjamin, because at this point I can do it in my sleep, thanks to you and your machinations.” She turned to Nora. “This jerk has gotten me elected mermaid queen three years running now.”
“And you don’t want to be mermaid queen?”
“Would you, a grown professional woman, want to be mermaid queen?”
“I see your point,” Nora said, although she wasn’t the one who’d designed a mermaid-mobile.
“Okay, so one version of this thing is the mobile clinic,” Maya said.
“Again, I just want to point out that mobility might be a little ambitious,” Pearl said.
Maya continued to ignore Pearl as she led them back around to look at the outside of the van. “The other version is a display of sorts, for at events like this where you’re just going to be parked. Jake installed brackets on the van and built this arch thing with slots in it. The arch is the base, and we insert event-specific signs on it as needed.”
She pointed at Pearl, who produced two pieces of plywood. One was a brightly colored sign that said, “Get a booster.” The other was a mermaid smiling atop a rocket.
“So this is for today, when you’re going to give Sawyer his booster shot,” Pearl said, “and hand out info about the MMR vaccine.”
“But we can swap these out for other ones in the future,” Maya said. “‘Keep your health pristine, get your vaccines,’ could be a general one.”
“‘Fight the flu, it starts with you,’” Pearl said. “For the Anti-Festival.”
Nora glanced at Jake to see if the mention of the flu had made him uncomfortable, but he was just silently attaching the signs to the arch he’d already braced to the van. The result was…
“Amazing.” Ridiculous, but amazing. She was certainly going to get people’s attention.
Finished with the installation, Jake climbed down the stepladder he’d been standing on and winked at her. He found the whole thing ridiculous, too, she was pretty sure.
“Jake.” Maya pressed her hands to her heart as she admired their creation. “You. Are. The. Best.”
Jake didn’t answer—he hadn’t said a word the whole morning—just started dragging the ladder away.
Nora had to agree, though. Jake was indeed the best.
Chapter Eight
Jake didn’t have people over to his place. Letting them use the beach—ignoring them while they used the beach—fine. And sometimes Law and Sawyer came over, but that was as far as his hospitality generally extended.
Which was why it made no sense that Nora was here with him. He pulled his truck into his usual parking spot near the intersection of Locust and Sarnia Streets, cut the engine, and turned to examine his passenger.
“We walk from here?” she asked.
“Yep.” He was getting a weird, niggling feeling that he was making a mistake.
“Oh, I’m excited about this!”
But no. There. That was why he’d invited her over. She looked happy. She’d been running herself ragged in the month the clinic had been open, and she’d told him the other day that she was exhausted. He’d responded by impulsively inviting her over for a celebratory end-of-the-first-month dinner.
She set Mick on the ground and clipped on his leash. “I keep hearing about the mysterious Paradise Cove, but it’s like it’s a state secret or something.”
“Yeah, this town can keep a secret when it suits them.”
“Like the Anti-Festival thing next weekend?”
“Exactly.”
“You going to it?”
“Nope.”
“Not much of a festival guy?” she teased.
“Nope.”
“You just build all the shit for them?”
He shrugged.
“You totally do. You’re like the silent engine that makes this town go, as far as I can see.”
“Nah.”
“Face it, Jake. You’re the strong, silent, heroic type.”
“How’s your grandma?” he asked, by way of deflection but also because he was genuinely interested. Nora had told him more about her family in the last few weeks, over a handful of dinners they’d shared while he’d been working on her place—she always insisted on feeding him. Since she wasn’t actually cooking, he generally took her up on it. He didn’t want her to go out of her way, but he’d happily eat a piece of pizza with her.
“Grandma says she’s fine, but I don’t know if I believe her. She’s sort of stoic and silent. Like someone else I know.” She bumped his shoulder with hers as they walked. “When anyone asks her how she’s doing, she stonewalls.”
“What do they say? Doctors make the worst patients?”
“Exactly. She’s eighty-seven. The chemo really weakened her. I know it takes a long time, but I don’t feel like she’s bouncing back like I would have expected. But I admit I might be guilty of believing she’s invincible.”
“I think maybe everyone thinks that about their parents to a certain extent. I remember when my mom got diagnosed, I thought, Well, this sucks, but it will be okay.”
“But it wasn’t.”
She hadn’t phrased it as a question—that was Nora for you: good at not prying—but he answered it anyway. “Nope. It turned out to be stage four.” They walked in silence for a few moments, crossing the grassy stretch that extended toward the lake. “The stupid thing is, I thought, Well, Jude died a year ago, so my mom isn’t going to die, too. I honestly thought that. Like you don’t win the lottery twice. Or lose the lottery, I guess. It’s embarrassing to admit, because it’s totally nonsensical.”
“It is and it isn’t. Having worked in an emergency room, I can tell you it’s normal. Our human minds try to impose order, or patterns, on the randomness of the universe. Not to get too woo-woo, but I think it’s what makes us human. We try to see meaning where there isn’t any.”
“Or justice where there isn’t any,” he said, thinking back to how ripped off he’d felt when they’d had to face the fact that his mom wasn’t going to make it.
“Or justice when there isn’t any,” she echoed. “That’s exactly right.”
They walked on, Mick’s wheezy breathing the only sound. He liked that she didn’t mind silence. She didn’t pepper him with questions. She asked questions, great questions, but in context and at the right time and in the right doses.
Soon they reached the beach. “I suggest you swap your shoes.”
“You leave boots here?” she exclaimed.
He did. He had an old, cruddy pair he left here for himself, but in anticipation of her visit, he’d dug out Kerrie’s old rubber boots and stashed them here with his on his way out this morning.
Was it weird to be offering Nora his ex-wife’s boots?
No. Why would it be weird? It wasn’t like she was his girlfriend.
“These will pro
bably be too big.” Kerrie had been a lot taller than Nora. “But they should do the trick.” She donned the boots, and he shifted his shopping bags to one arm. “You want me to carry Mick?”
“Nah, I got him. He only weighs eleven pounds.”
“I have to say, before I met Mick, I didn’t know basset hounds came in miniature.”
“Well, it’s kind of unclear if they actually do. Rufus paid four grand for him from some guy who called him a ‘designer dog.’” She kissed one of Mick’s ears as they stepped into the lake. “And you were worth every penny,” she cooed. “But the vet told us that it’s not a distinct breed, and that they’re made from breeding runts or breeding bassets with other, smaller breeds. Who knows? Who cares?” They followed the line of rock out into the lake until it ended. It was kind of fun to splash through the shallow water in boots. “It’s just around here.”
She stepped out from behind the outcropping and stopped while she was still in the water, blinking rapidly. She exhaled a breathy little sigh. And inhaled as a smile blossomed. “Jake Ramsey. Are you kidding me?” She swatted his arm.
He tried to see the scene through her eyes, through new eyes. It was pretty damn picturesque. The cove itself created a solid wall of rock that enclosed a small beach. His cottage was on the far side, small but tidy, with a deck facing the lake. You could definitely hear the waves from his deck, though they were only lapping gently at the moment—it was a still evening. The overall effect was of being cozily tucked away with what felt like your own personal Great Lake.
“This is amazing!” Nora exclaimed—and Nora wasn’t naturally the exclaiming type. She loped ahead of him, set Mick down on the beach, and turned in a slow circle, taking in the whole scene. “I can’t believe you live here!”
Her approval felt good. Not that he required it. But he had a lot of respect for Nora, so it was gratifying that she liked his home. “Yeah, it can be kind of a pain to have to walk to your house, but I think it’s worth it.”
“Totally worth it,” she enthused. “It makes it better, even. It’s like you have to work for your payoff, which I bet makes you appreciate it all the more.”
Exactly.
“Well, come on in.” He led the way up the steps—the cottage was built on short stilts. “It’s not much, but it’s home.”
“You want me to leave Mick out here?”
“No, no, bring him in.”
“Holy crap!” Her reaction to the inside was as effusive as her reaction to the setting.
He grinned. “I think I told you that my mom was an artist.”
“You did, but…holy crap.”
Every available chunk of wall was covered with his mom’s paintings. Some of them were the landscapes she’d made her name on, but there were also lots of less formal works, including portraits of Jake and his brother at various ages. The place was an explosion of art and color but not overly curated. Because the cottage hadn’t been anyone’s permanent home in his mom’s era, she’d just thrown things on the walls willy-nilly. It had become the home for her “rejects,” pieces she wasn’t sure about or wasn’t sure she was done with. The individual paintings were nice enough, but the aggregate effect was really something—again, especially when he tried to view the place through fresh eyes.
Nora walked right over to a big painting near the door to the deck. “Is this Jude?”
“Yeah.” It was of Jude, but his mom had set him in outer space—she’d always played with themes of magic and eternity, especially closer to the end of her life, when she’d known her diagnosis was terminal but had still been able to work. In this one, Jude was grinning as he floated among stars and nebulae. “She did that after he died.”
“It’s beautiful. Not in a flowery, sympathy-card sort of way, but in a real way, you know?”
“Yeah.” That was part of why he missed his mom so much. Like Nora, she had been able to face the horrible things in life with clear eyes. She had been a rock after Jude died, which was part of why her death had hit him so hard. He moved to the kitchen and had to clear his throat. “How do you feel about trout?”
“I feel great about trout.”
He unpacked the big salad he’d bought from Sadie’s Diner and got the fish out of the fridge where it had been marinating. “I caught these this morning, so they’re fresh. I thought we’d grill them outside.” He paused with the fridge open. “I have wine or beer. I also have bourbon if you’d rather.” He didn’t generally stock bourbon, but he’d bought some for her. He didn’t generally stock anything, for that matter, unless Sawyer and Law were coming over, because he didn’t drink alone at home. After Jude died and Kerrie left, he’d made a conscious decision to keep his drinking social, which meant mostly at Lawson’s Lager House. It seemed like it might be too easy, otherwise, to let himself slip into oblivion.
“Wine would be great.” She nodded at his full hands. “You want me to get it?”
“Sure. Thanks. I’ll have a glass, too.”
Soon they were outside, and he was firing up the grill. “I should warn you that this is an old-school charcoal grill, so it’s going to take a while for the coals to be ready.”
“I brought snacks!” She ducked back into the house after she’d set two glasses of wine on the outdoor table. She returned with a bag of nuts from Jenna’s General and a cluster of grapes. “I think it should be fine to let Mick loose. He’s afraid of water, so he can’t really get in or out of the cove.” As soon as she let him off his leash, Mick lumbered down to the beach and started snuffling around.
After Jake was done lighting the coals, he joined her at the table. He had designed the deck with a built-in bench that spanned one side. The table was arranged so that if you sat on the bench, you could look at the lake. Nora was sitting on the bench. He had chairs on the other side of the table—he supposed so that in theory, he could have people over for dinner and have enough seating. Sometimes he and Law and Sawyer sat around this table.
So he should sit on one of those chairs, across from Nora.
But he did not. He sat next to her on the bench.
“Here’s to one month under your belt, Dr. Walsh.” He lifted his glass and clinked it against hers. “How does it feel?”
“It feels exhausting.” She toasted with him. “Though I guess that’s good. We’re pretty much booked solid most days. And I pulled some stats. In the month since the Mermaid Parade, I’ve done a dozen MMR boosters and seen two families who’d been hesitant but decided to bring their kids in to start the schedule. I totally put that down to you guys and your crazy van.”
“Not my crazy van. Maya and Pearl get the credit. I was just the muscle.”
“Well, I’ve come to understand recently—the hard way—that actions speak louder than words, so you’re just going to have to live with some of the credit.”
She was talking about that dirtbag Rufus. Thinking about what he’d done to Nora made Jake angry. But, simultaneously, being compared to Rufus and coming out on top made him feel good.
She was confusing.
Even more confusing? When she said, “Still. I’m beat,” heaved a huge sigh, and let her head fall onto his shoulder.
It was not even remotely a sexual, or romantic, gesture. It was companionable. They had become genuinely close in the six or so weeks she’d been here. For some reason he hadn’t bothered examining, he had clicked with her. She was smart and funny, and she didn’t do false sentiment.
She was his friend. They were friends.
He allowed himself to consider the nagging feeling he’d had earlier, when they’d gotten out of the truck and started the trek into the cove, that he had a problem. He’d thought, then, that bringing Nora here was kind of unprecedented. He didn’t do that.
So what did it mean that he had?
What did it mean that he wanted to put his arm around her? To encourage her to lean into him and rest?
She had woken him up. Woken his body up. He was intensely, viscerally aware of her at all tim
es. Of where she was, and of how much distance there was between them. Like when he was working on her fence and she got home, he could tell she was about to appear from behind the house before she did. When she opened the pizza boxes she often brought home with her, he watched her small, efficient hands and imagined them pressing a stethoscope to a chest. Imagined them pressing against a chest without the stethoscope.
Sawyer and Law had tried to give him a phone a couple years ago. They’d staged an intervention and said it was time to get on some dating or hookup apps. He had shut that right down. He didn’t want a phone. He didn’t want apps. He didn’t want people. He could take care of things by himself in the shower when the need arose. It was a mechanical problem to be solved dispassionately.
The problem that had been niggling, and that was now making itself more overtly known in his consciousness, was that Nora made him feel things that were not mechanical.
He didn’t put his arm around her, but it was a close thing.
Nora had a problem, and that problem was that she wanted to jump Jake.
Her sister had told her, today in fact, that this wasn’t a problem. “That is one fine specimen of human male, Nor,” she’d said during a FaceTime. Nora had not brought this up; Erin had. “I mean, could you do better for a rebound fling? But you make sure it’s just a fling, because I have a bunch of house listings to send you.”
Nora had declared her Moonflower Bay time-out a “no boys” zone, but she hadn’t actually thought through what that meant. Certainly it meant no boyfriends. And no dating, because dating was how a person ended up with a boyfriend. Just like she was keeping her house mostly empty, she didn’t want to clutter up her life or her brain with other people’s junk. She didn’t want to have to please anyone but herself—and she was still figuring out what that meant.
One thing she hadn’t really taken into account as she’d thought through the life reset was the concept of casual sex. Mostly because she hadn’t really had much of it in her life. She was more of a serial monogamist.
She was pretty sure she wanted a husband and kids someday, so at some point she was going to have to get back on the horse. Just not yet.
Paradise Cove Page 9
