by Casey Dawes
Sarah scanned the list and groaned. “Do I really need all of this for breakfast?”
“Most of it. There are a lot of regulations about what you need and some of it makes sense to have in case you ever do want to cater a party. You don’t have to buy everything new. Owning a restaurant can be precarious. They go out of business all the time. You can pick up some cheap second-hand stuff.”
“Still … ” Sarah stared at the list and absently rubbed her stomach, the familiar fear returning. What if she blew it? Then she really would have nothing and she’d have to raise her baby at her mom’s.
That would be the total end of her life as she knew it.
Maybe she should reconsider Hunter’s proposal. Or allow Rick back into her life.
Her stomach churned.
Maybe not.
Mandy pulled her phone from her purse. “You don’t have to do a thing except invite some people.” A frown crossed her face. “And maybe pay for supplies. I’d do that for you except I don’t have much money at the moment. Slow season for tips. But I can take care of everything else. Let’s say two weeks from yesterday. We can get a crew, ladders, maybe even some paint if you want start redoing the walls.”
The freight train was back.
Sarah smiled and moved closer to Mandy to make plans for the work party. Having a new friend was almost enough to make her forget Rick’s phone call.
Almost.
Chapter 6
“What were you doing in my office?” Hunter’s father snarled a greeting.
“Hello to you, too.” Hunter said and walked toward the living room. His sheetrock job had ended on the day before and he’d decided to drive to Sausalito on Friday to search again for the cabinets. His father should have been at work.
“I asked you a question.”
“I was trying to find something.” Hunter tossed the phrase over his shoulder before crossing the room to his mother’s recliner. “How are you, Mom?”
Her forehead wrinkled with concern. “How did you get into your father’s office? No one’s allowed in there.”
I bet.
“Nothing to worry about, Mom.” He patted her hand and turned to face his father who had followed him into the living room.
“What were you looking for? There’s nothing of yours in my office.”
“I didn’t know that was your office.” Hunter walked back to the hall. His mother didn’t need to overhear this. “Cheap lock.” He shrugged. “I learned some new skills while I was away.”
“Stay out. There are private things in there.”
“Things mom shouldn’t know about?”
His father’s eyes glanced away. “So what is it you’re so hell-bent on finding?”
“The cabinets I was working on before I went overseas.”
“Why?”
God. Why was everything with his father a production? “I’m thinking of opening my own business.”
His father snorted. “What? Isn’t the government handout enough for you? Your generation is too soft. Your grandfather never took anything from the feds after Vietnam.”
Granddad drank himself to death. Not exactly a great role model.
“It’s not a handout,” he said through clenched teeth. “It’s a disability payment. And it’s only good until I get back on my feet.” He cringed as he used the cliché. He’d never truly get back on his feet. “Which is what I’m trying to do.”
His father harrumphed. “If you’d listened to me, you wouldn’t be in that predicament. There’s still a job at the firm for you. Good money. It would make your mother happy if you lived in civilization, not in that hippie town you love so much.”
Hunter’s fists clenched. “Thanks for the support, Dad. Have you seen the cabinets?”
“Check the back shed.” His father started toward the back stairs. “I’m going to call a locksmith for a decent lock. Stay away from things you don’t understand.”
Sure, Dad.
Hunter went through the kitchen to the back door, past the patio to what his mother called “the garden shed.”
Junk shed was more like it.
Hunter opened the door and cleared the cobwebs from the frame. After his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he scanned the piles of discards. Nothing appeared to be a cabinet, but there were so many piles he couldn’t know what was underneath.
Groaning, he began to shift the piles.
Two hours later, he found his cabinets.
Or what was left of them.
Someone had deliberately smashed the frames into the concrete floor and thrown cinderblocks on top of them. The cabinets hadn’t stood a chance.
Hunter stooped and picked up a shard of cherry wood. He stared at the broken piece, wondering if his life was even worth retrieving.
• • •
The gun was exactly where it had been before Hunter went to war, in a drawer in his father’s bedroom. The Smith & Wesson felt light in his hand, a toy compared to what he’d carried in the Middle East.
But it would do the job.
He slid the gun behind his back, lodged it in his waistband and pulled out his shirt to cover it. No need to have a discussion about the gun with his mother.
“Do you have to leave?” his mother asked.
“Yes, Mom.” He kissed her gently on the cheek. “I’ll be back in a few weeks.”
“But why can’t you stay here? Sausalito is a lovely place. You could meet some girl. Your father said he’d find you a job.”
Like all the other promises his father never kept, Hunter didn’t believe this one, either.
Hunter stifled his sigh. “I like what I’m doing, Mom. You know I’ve always liked Santa Cruz.”
“Yes, I see. It’s just … ” She gestured to his leg, but didn’t glance at it.
He forced a smile. “I can do anything I used to. No need to worry.” He couldn’t stand being here another minute, his mother’s pity washing over him. “I’ll see you in a few weeks.”
“Okay.”
He strode out of the living room to the hallway. After grabbing his jacket, he opened the front door and left.
Once he cleared the tight houses of San Francisco, Hunter took the Pacific Coast Highway, driving past sandy cliffs, his mind drifting with the tide. January was too early for migrating whales, but in a few months the gray behemoths would be making their way north again. Perhaps they’d float through the Monterey Bay like they’d done on that magical day when he was twelve.
Before everything changed.
Hunter hadn’t ever been able to figure out what had gone wrong. His father was a successful estate attorney. The money had flowed and his family had been comfortable.
Even his mother had been happy then.
In the midst of this easy life, a canker had appeared. His father spent more time in his office and his mother, when she was around, spent most of her days on the front porch, staring at the garden.
When his parents were together, which wasn’t often, they vacillated between stony silence and screaming matches. Whenever they started, Hunter jumped on his bike and rode to the beach, surfboard hooked in the rack on his bike.
At the end of his eighth grade year he’d been informed they were moving to Sausalito.
Hunter shook the memories from his mind and focused on the small shops leading the way to Half Moon Bay. He swung off the highway and headed toward Pillar Point.
Why was he putting himself through this? All his life he’d wanted to surf Maverick’s and now it was beyond his reach.
His father’s gun in the glove box mocked him. Isn’t that why you brought me along?
Hunter began to sweat. He swung the Jeep into a parking lot and stopped. After he retrieved his father’s pistol and grabbed a pair of binoculars, he maneuvered his body to the ground. The salt air cleared his senses.
Maybe I’m making the wrong decision.
He walked the trail to the bluffs overlooking Half Moon Bay.
In the distance he could barel
y see the high waves of Maverick’s surf. The place had called some of the world’s best surfers to their death, but Hunter still craved a battle with the elements.
“You a soldier, mister?”
Hunter looked down at the scrawny boy with wind-strewn hair by his side.”Not anymore.”
“Is that how you lost your leg?”
“Yes, son. In the war.” Hunter made his voice gruffer than usual, hoping the kid would get the hint.
“It must have been scary.”
“Yep.” It had taken him almost a year to admit he’d been scared. His therapist had treated the statement like some kind of miracle. Hunter thought it added to the embarrassment of living.
“You must be brave.”
“Not really.” What is it going to take for this kid to quit?
The boy shrugged toward the ocean. “You ever surf Maverick’s?”
Hunter took a deep breath. “Never got the chance. And now — ”
“Sorry. I didn’t think. My mom says I do that a lot. Not think.”
Hunter grinned in spite of himself. “What’s your name, kid?”
“Billy.”
“Well, Billy, it’s good to meet you.” Hunter held out his hand. The boy shook it.
“My mom says soldiers are heroes. She has to ’cause my dad’s in the army — just like you were. Weren’t you? Or were you somewhere else?”
Hunter’s shoulders straightened. “I was a Marine.”
“Wow. That’s hard-core.”
Hunter laughed and smiled at the boy. “You going to surf Maverick’s when you’re older?”
Billy shook his head. “No. I’m going to be a soldier like you and my dad. I want to be someone my mom can be proud of. My older brother’s a surfer.” Billy shrugged again as if the statement covered everything you needed to know about his brother.
Billy gazed up at him. “Thanks for talking to me, mister. I feel closer to my dad when I talk to a soldier. I can’t wait to tell my mom I met a real Marine. See ya.” He picked up a sand-covered bike from the ground, hopped on and peddled off.
Thanks for talking to me, son.
Hunter walked back to the Jeep, threw the gun in the glove box, and locked it. He rolled down the windows, cranked up the radio, and took off down the coast.
It was a good day to be alive.
• • •
“There’s got to be something else, Joe,” Hunter said to his friend the next morning in the little shop behind Joe’s house. Rain pounded the tin roof.
Joe shook his head. “Slow season. You know that. Some roofing jobs if the weather ever lets up, but … ” he gestured faintly to Hunter’s leg.
Damn it. His injury was going to cost him everything. Correction. Already had cost him everything. A vision of Lauren’s face appeared in his mind.
“I’m sorry, Hunter,” Joe said. “I’ll let you know if I find anything that suits you.” He handed Hunter an envelope. “Here’s your paycheck.” Joe regarded him steadily. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah. Thanks.” Hunter stuffed the envelope in his jeans pocket and walked out of the house. If his best friend couldn’t see him as a complete man, who would?
He slid into the Jeep and glanced at the glove box.
No. The voice seemed to come from a place deep within him. You’re better than that.
I hope so.
He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, got back out of the car, and strode back to Joe’s office. “Can I use your workshop?”
“Sure.” Joe shrugged. “What are you thinking of doing?”
“Building cabinets.”
“Okay.” Joe handed him a key. “Come and go when you want.”
Hunter took the key. “Thanks.” He walked back out the door, got into the Jeep, and roared off to the lumber yard.
• • •
Sunday morning Hunter pressed a shirt and put it on, along with his best khakis. He thought about picking up a bunch of flowers on the way, but laughed at himself. He was trying to find a room, not a relationship.
“Oh, it’s you again,” Sarah said when she opened the door, the dog standing next to her. She was frowning.
Against all reason, something about her made him want to scoop her up in his arms and hug her. Because her T-shirt and jeans were dripping with dust, cobwebs, and streaks of soap, it was probably a bad idea, but her short height and big brown eyes gave her an appealing elfin look. He’d always been a sucker for Éowyn in Lord of the Rings.
“I still don’t have any rooms,” Sarah continued and began to shut the door.
“Wait,” he said.
She stopped. “Why should I?”
He smiled. Considering their size difference, she really had no choice. But he bet she’d fight him with every ounce of her strength.
She’d probably fight like a girl — nasty.
“This is an inn, isn’t it?” he asked.
She smirked at him. “It’s an unopened inn. No room. Get the picture?” She started to inch the door closed.
This time he shoved his foot in the gap. The swinging door clanked on his prosthetic.
Sarah gasped. “I’m so sorry!”
He grinned. “I’m not. It would have hurt a lot more on the other leg.”
She looked up at him wide-eyed and smiled back, tentatively at first, and then allowing the grin to stretch across her face and into her eyes. Hunter chuckled and the laugh must have been infectious because soon they were both doubled over in laughter.
When Sarah recovered, she looked him up and down, her hand on the dog’s head. “I suppose I should be nicer to a veteran. Come in. I’ve been rude. But I’m warning you, if you try anything I’ll sic Daisy on you.”
He looked at Daisy. The dog barked and wagged its tail. “Yeah. I can see that would be dangerous.”
Sarah frowned at Daisy. “Some guard dog.” Then she looked at Hunter. “This way.” She walked down the hallway, the dog following her heels.
Hunter followed Daisy.
“Coffee?” she asked as she gestured to a table in the center of the kitchen.
“I’d love some.” Daisy nudged his knee and he rubbed her head. Soon her chin was on his thigh and he was taken back to when he’d been a happy kid in this kitchen. He looked around. Not much had changed.
“Daisy, no,” Sarah said when she glimpsed what was happening.
“It’s okay. I like dogs.” No need to tell her how much Daisy reminded him of Tag-a-long, his boyhood dog.
She poured coffee into two cracked mugs. “I hope you like it black.”
He raised his eyebrows. “What if your guests want milk and sugar?”
“I told you,” she said as she sat in the remaining chair. “The inn isn’t open. That’s why you can’t stay here. Even I live with my mother.”
Better and better. “Then you definitely need a caretaker,” he said. “Someone to help keep an eye on the place when you aren’t around.” He leaned forward. “And I’m handy with things like plumbing and electricity.”
And a lot of other things.
The frown was back. “I don’t know anything about you. You may be a veteran, but … I don’t know how to say this — it’s just I’ve heard — ”
“I get it.” He tried to keep the bitterness from his voice as he pulled an envelope out of his pocket. “My resume.” Thin as it was, he’d put down what he could: construction, United States Marine Corp, odd jobs.
She unfolded the paper and scanned it before laying it on the table. “It looks good, but I’m not looking for a carpenter, or a soldier, although I do appreciate you for serving,” she said in a rush. “I’m sorry about — ” she gestured to his leg.
“It could have been worse,” he said, his hands tightening. He forced himself to slow down his breathing and take a sip of coffee. “So how about that room?”
She gestured in frustration. “The inn isn’t open. I don’t have furniture. There’s nowhere for you to sleep!”
“I do well with a sleeping
bag and a mat,” he said giving her his best grin.
She drummed her fingers on the table and stared at him.
Daisy picked her head off his leg and crossed to her mistress. Sitting down, she howled at Sarah, turned, and laid her head back on Hunter’s thigh, thumping her tail the entire time.
“See, even the dog likes me.” He took another sip of coffee.
They stared at each other for several minutes.
“I’ll tell you what,” she said, standing. “I’ll check your references and I’ll talk it over with my advisor. But the answer will still be no.”
Why was she so adamant?
He stood as well. “Who’s your advisor? Maybe I could convince him of my sincerity.”
She smiled. “My advisor is my mother, and trust me — she’s tough.” She gestured to the hallway. “If you’ll excuse me.”
“Sure.”
They walked to the front door, the dog trailing behind. “I’ll call you next week sometime.”
“Thanks,” he said, turning to shake her hand. “I appreciate the chance.”
“I haven’t given it to you.”
“True,” he said. He studied her and her face heated under his stare. Her gaze dropped to his lips and she licked her own.
He looked back into her eyes and saw an openness that hadn’t been there before.
He lowered his head and kissed her gently before he whispered. “I’m very handy.”
She took a step back. “I think you should leave.”
He straightened up, took a card from his pocket and scribbled something on it. “Here’s my cell phone. Give me a call if you need anything.” He smiled. “Anything at all.”
“Okay,” she whispered and set her fingertips on her lips.
He smiled as he strode back to the Jeep. Score one for the good guys.
Chapter 7
The Saturday of the work party held the promise of spring even though the calendar said it was still February. Mandy had managed to get ten people to show up. Sarah’s mother and Annie had been there in the morning, but both had left at noon, right after partaking in the rustic, but substantial spread Mandy had laid out in the kitchen. Sarah noticed Annie pick up one of Mandy’s catering cards on her way out the door.
