by Beth Andrews
She looked around. If the school reno went well, there would be few quiet mornings like this at the diner. Still, it would be good for the locals if more tourists hit their shore instead of the other islands.
“Now that Thomas has canceled the contract, we should cancel the reno, gut it and tear it down.” Mason Brown’s voice was quiet in the restaurant, but she had no trouble overhearing. Not that her father ever minded people overhearing him, especially when he was talking about something controversial. “The roof’s falling in. Someone is going to be seriously hurt.”
What was he talking about? She’d talked to Luther not an hour before. Cold, clammy dread shivered up Jaime’s spine as she twisted around in her seat.
Mason wore his usual uniform of navy pants and light blue, short-sleeved dress shirt with the Gulliver’s Island Police Department logo over the breast. “Department” was a bit of a stretch, she knew. Other than Mason there were two full-time employees and one was the island dispatcher. It was all the small community needed, except during the summer months.
He continued. “That old school has got to go, there’s no ifs, ands, or buts.”
Jaime’s jaw dropped. When the Gulliver family had bought the island two hundred years before, they’d planted their vineyard and built the school, which was what had grown the tiny village of Gulliver Township. The school’s brass bell hadn’t rung in decades, but the place was still important to the island.
It was important to her, and not just as a distraction over the whole ten-year nonsense.
Jaime wiped her mouth and pushed up and out of her booth to step closer to their table. Her father spoke to Tom Gulliver, her boss at the winery, and a few other township trustees.
“Excuse me,” she said. “The construction crew is making good progress. I don’t think we need to call it quits so soon.” The lie tasted bad in her mouth.
“The crew isn’t coming back. Luther made it official when he stopped by the township office a half hour ago.” Mason sighed. His patronizing tone set the hairs on the back of Jaime’s neck on edge.
“What do you mean they aren’t coming back? I was with Luther not more than an hour ago. He left, but only for the weekend.” Jaime couldn’t wrap her head around what her father was saying. This was bad. Really, really bad.
“The renovation wasn’t thought out clearly enough.”
“Answer my question. How do you know the crew is walking out of the job?”
Mason sucked in a slow breath and Jaime fisted her hands at her sides. “I mean he stopped by the township office with the unsigned contract and said he was through being monitored by a party planner and walked out.”
Party planner? Monitored? She’d been doing her job. Mason continued before Jaime could defend herself. “And, Jaime, sweetheart, I’m not sure you have all the facts about Gulliver School.”
“I know it’s a historic landmark. I know it educated several generations of Gulliver residents and mainland kids.” She straightened her shoulders. “I know during World War II the Red Cross used it as a meeting place of sorts for the women left behind.” Just because something didn’t work the way some thought it should didn’t mean that thing should be destroyed. “The building has a lot of issues, but it isn’t as bad as we initially thought—”
“Did you know little Andy Grapple broke one of the windows over the weekend, crawled inside and then fell from the second-floor landing?” Tom Gulliver’s voice was deep and passionate.
Tom and her father had been buddies as long as Jaime could remember. Other than her father Tom was the only person on the island who knew exactly what had happened ten years before. All those years ago her father helped her hide her scars, and thanks to Tom she had a good job, but this was not the same. “No, I—”
“Did you know some of the high school kids have used that place as a parking spot?” her father chimed in. Of course she knew that. Everyone knew that.
“Or that the roof is collapsing?” Rick Meter, another trustee, joined the conversation.
Yes, she knew more about the old school than anyone else on the island at this point. She hadn’t known about Andy’s fall, though, which was odd, but she knew renovation could save the old brick building. Throwing it away like a broken toy was just...wrong. “Roofs can be fixed, windows replaced.”
“We can’t station a guard outside 24/7 to keep kids out of it.”
“You could install an alarm system,” a new voice joined the conversation. The hairs on Jaime’s neck stood up again. The man in the corner. This time it wasn’t annoyance at being talked down to that caused the reaction. It was the voice itself. A voice she never thought she’d hear, at least not while she was on Gulliver.
The broad shoulders.
The not too long but not too short black hair.
Sure, his face was turned away, but she should have known or at least suspected. Ten years.
She turned slowly and felt the blood drain from her cheeks. The man from the corner booth wasn’t so much stranger as long-lost resident.
Emmett Deal stood there, listening to her argument with the trustees. Sunlight glinted off the pristine windshield of an unfamiliar work truck. Stenciled on the side were the words Deal Construction. Here was Emmett and here was his truck. She blinked and he was still standing at a table near the front door. She wasn’t imagining him.
His eyes were bluer than she remembered. More of a cerulean than the baby blues that invaded her dreams when she was overly tired. He was taller, too. Not by much, maybe an inch. His shoulders more broad and his hips— Jaime gave herself a mental shake and brought her gaze back to Emmett’s beautiful face. Chiseled jaw...hint of stubble.
Before he’d left Emmett had hated that he couldn’t grow a proper mustache. It didn’t look as though that was a problem any longer. Black, black hair flirted with the collar of his tight T.
He seemed to look straight past her, though. Jaime swallowed and tried to ignore her rapidly beating heart.
Okay, so looking at his face wasn’t the right thing to do, either. She turned back to the men at the table.
“An alarm.” She swallowed, hating that her voice slid up an octave. “An alarm system is a good start, and better than razing a building that is important to Gulliver,” she said, this time keeping her voice steady. “We can hire another reno crew.” Somewhere in the state of Ohio there had to be a construction crew available. There had to be. “With so much activity, the kids will stay away.”
“Even during overnights and weekends?” Her father shook his head and folded his beefy arms over his chest. He sat back in his chair. “We don’t have the staff to run over to the school every time a squirrel sets off the system. We should reallocate the budget into teardown and creating a city park on the land.”
Jaime cleared her throat but her mind was blank. “A memorial park isn’t better than a building that has stood watch over this town, this island, for two hundred years.”
Emmett refilled his to-go coffee cup at the counter. “A good system will know the difference between a squirrel and a person. Parks are great things but there is plenty of undeveloped land on the island that could be used for a new park. Not that it’s any of my business.” He paid Anna and faced the table while he sipped his drink.
Jaime wasn’t sure if she should hug Emmett for taking her side or demand that he let her handle this on her own.
“No, it’s not.” Her father’s words were curt. “This is a township decision.”
Demand he leave. Definitely, definitely demand he leave. Mason was about to go ballistic about outsiders versus islanders. “Thank you—”
Emmett cut her off. “I may not live on Gulliver any longer, but my father does. He came close to having the school declared a historic landmark a few years back.” He sipped his coffee, looking at the men at the table and studiously avoiding t
he section of the diner where Jaime now stood. That annoyed the bejesus out of her.
“As I said, this is a township decision. Before we spend more money on another crew that will leave us high and dry, I think we should seriously consider demolition. And as you said yourself, you’re not part of the township. Haven’t been for ten years.”
“Seems like it wouldn’t take much work to fill in the gaps in that old application. Renovating is never cheap but a lot of times it is cheaper than tearing down.”
“Maybe you should stick to what you know.” Mason’s voice was low in the quiet diner.
“As it happens, I know old buildings. I could take a look at it.”
“And then leave when things get tougher than you imagined?”
Color flooded Jaime’s cheeks. This wasn’t about the school building; not any longer. Her father was being his usual bullheaded self. Blaming Emmett for something that wasn’t his fault.
Before her father could say something he didn’t mean Jaime pushed back into the conversation. “Then the township should decide, not just the board of trustees. During the island’s bicentennial last summer every Gulliver business benefited from the increased tourist traffic. If the school is renovated, we would have that kind of draw all the time. A few artists stop every summer to paint the old building. Renovation will give them more of a reason to come back than a park.”
From the hand in his pocket to the hunched shoulders, Emmett looked anything but comfortable. As if this conversation was not going the way he’d thought.
Well, then, he should have butted out from the beginning.
“Are you willing to take a look? So we know exactly what to talk to demolition or renovation experts about.” Tom Gulliver practically preened as he said the words.
“I’ll be on the island for a few weeks. Whatever you decide, I can offer my opinion.”
The bell over the door tinkled as Emmett pushed through it. He got into his truck without looking back and drove away.
Jaime realized she was staring—again—and looked back at her father.
“I still say we should vote on demolition at the meeting tonight,” he said from his side of the table.
“Dad—”
“The Deal boy might have the right idea. Could be cheaper to restore the building, I’ve said that from the beginning. It’s part of island history.” Rick Meter picked his teeth with a toothpick and Jaime shivered. Of all the times for her to agree with Rick Meter. “We hired Luther’s crew after a light appraisal from Troy Turner at the real-estate office. Emmett will know better what exactly the building needs and we can go from there.”
Jaime clenched her hands. Emmett will know better, indeed. He knew all about running away, but staying? Fixing what was broken?
“Restoring the building will bring more tourists to Gulliver, and not just during the summer months. Tourists already visit the islands to see Perry’s Monument—” she mentioned the memorial at Put-in-Bay “—and the Marblehead Lighthouse. Gulliver School could become one of those draws.”
“Getting a true estimate before we start the hiring process, for demo or reno, is smart.” Rick leaned back in his seat and plucked another toothpick from the table dispenser. He stuck it between his teeth and then put his hands behind his head. “Even if we voted tonight we wouldn’t have the permits or contracts for demolition before the summer is over. We’ve already got permits for renovation.”
Tom nodded. “Mason?”
“We should just vote. That building is a menace.” Her father tapped his fingers against his biceps as if his opinion settled everything. Probably he thought it did.
Jaime held her breath.
Finally, Tom said, “Okay, we’ll get that estimate. I’ll call over to the Deal house this afternoon.”
“I’ll do it. You asked me to head the project, which includes estimates and new hires.” Jaime kept her voice steady and looked from Rick to Tom and then to her father.
Mason’s expression remained impassive but his eyes studied her as if she had two heads. Maybe she did. She hadn’t left her father’s house for weeks after the senior trip. Then Emmett had stood her up on prom night. She hadn’t mentioned his name in years. Now she was suggesting the town hire him for a job that would keep him around for an extended amount of time.
Well, she wasn’t the same girl she’d been when he’d left.
Emmett being back didn’t change that.
Copyright © 2015 by Kristina Knight
ISBN-13: 9781460385920
Winter’s Kiss
Copyright © 2015 by Beth Burgoon
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