The Coldwater Warm Hearts Club

by Lexi Eddings

  Sorry, Jake.

  Dad often claimed his coffee separated the men from the boys. He also maintained that keeping the wimps away from the door was a father’s main task when raising a daughter. In this respect, his five-alarm coffee was better than brandishing a big stick. After taking a manly gulp, Jake didn’t show any ill effects. Her dad smiled approvingly at him.

  Evidently, Jake passed the “Trial by Caffeine” test.

  Face it. Jake passes any test you want to throw at him.

  He was still the Coldwater Cove poster boy for “tall, dark, and handsome.” Lacy’s chest constricted.

  Down, girl. You just got out of man trouble in Boston with your fingers and toes barely intact. You seriously don’t need more.

  And there was no doubt Jake had the potential to be trouble. Even laying aside his player past, there was still the problem of those flashbacks. Until he got a handle on them, any romantic entanglements might just muddy the waters for him. She didn’t want to be the distraction that kept him from working through his issues.

  And the truth was, after Bradford’s betrayal, Lacy was still guy-shy. She couldn’t trust her judgment about men. Or her emotions.

  Especially those fluttery ones. Just thinking about spending the whole day with Jacob had them kicking up a ruckus in her belly.

  “I see you brought your mom’s chair,” she said, wanting to slap a hand over her own mouth at her grasp of the obvious.

  “It’s a dandy, isn’t it? Surprisingly sturdy,” her dad said. “Jake and I have just been talking about what to do with it. I’m thinking a good quality oil-based paint to liven things up. Maybe bright orange or—”

  “George Evans, not another word.” Tying a scarf over her head to save her coiffure from the breeze, Lacy’s mom came into the garage through the mudroom off the kitchen. “You stop bossing those kids around.”

  It never failed when Lacy showed up at her folks’ house. Now not only was she twelve again, Jake had been reduced to kid status, too.

  “That chair is their project,” Mom said, “not yours.”

  Well! That was a nice surprise. Lacy could have kissed her mom and did.

  “I’m only trying to lend a hand,” her dad said.

  “That’s nice, dear, but they don’t need your hand. They have four of their own. However, since you’re in a helpful mood, you can help me.” Mom slipped a hand into the crook of Dad’s elbow. “I signed up to sell tickets for the high school production of Macbeth and I’ve got ten left.”

  “Oh, Shirl, why’d you go and volunteer to do that? You know that play is bound to be rated PC.”

  “Politically correct?” Lacy lifted a questioning brow at her father.

  “I wish.” Dad shook his head ruefully. “PC means parental consumption. You have to have a genetic connection with one of the actors involved in order to squirm through it.”

  “Now, George, I’m sure the play won’t be as bad as you think.”

  “No, it’ll probably be worse,” he said morosely. “I could understand volunteering to sell tickets if we still had a kid in high school, but we have old children now.”

  At last! Confirmation that I’m not, in fact, still twelve.

  “Hush, George. Admitting to having old children makes us even older.”

  “I just mean, why do we have to sell tickets for this thing since we don’t have a kid in it?”

  “Because we want to be supportive members of the community,” Lacy’s mother said as she took his hand, led him out of the garage and down the driveway to their waiting SUV. “If you don’t want to sell them, would you rather pay for the ten tickets yourself?”

  “Yes, if it’ll get me out of coercing our friends to buy them.”

  “Fine. We’ll buy the lot, invite four other couples, and make an evening of it,” Mom said brightly. “There’s nothing like good theater, you know.”

  “I know. And this’ll be nothing like good theater,” Dad said with a frown. “Seriously, Shirl. Just because we pay for tickets, it doesn’t follow that we actually have to show up and use them.”

  “If you buy the tickets, of course you have to go. Besides the fact that Miss Holloway’s class has worked on the play for weeks, I was not raised to be wasteful.”

  Maybe that’s why she never wants to throw anything away.

  “Honestly, dear,” Mom went on, “how will all those young people feel if Coldwater Cove doesn’t support their efforts? They deserve an enthusiastic audience.”

  “They better hope for a forgiving one.” Dad pulled his red Oklahoma Sooners cap from his back pocket and slapped it on his head. “All right, dear. Let’s head over to the country club and see if I can corner somebody who owes me a favor. That’s the only way we’ll unload those things.”

  “Lacy, there’s some fried chicken in the fridge and other picnic fixings if you kids want to head down to the park. I hear there’s a band concert at one. If you’re done here by then, of course,” Mom called over her shoulder as Dad opened the passenger-side door for her.

  Now who’s trying to boss the “kids” around?

  But it was kindly meant and her mother had neatly maneuvered Lacy out of having to accept her father’s help with the chair. He had good intentions, but all his DIY projects ended up like the disastrous squirrel repellent.

  “Thanks, Mom. A picnic sounds great.” As her parents drove off, she could still hear her dad grumbling through the vehicle’s open windows. Lacy turned to Jake. “Will that be okay with you or did you have other plans for today?”

  Jake smiled down at her. “My only plan is to spend as much of the day with you as I can. Oh! And to make sure Speedbump isn’t making a nuisance of himself.”

  “Where is he?”

  “In the backyard with Fergus. I hated to leave him alone at my place. The little guy seems to enjoy company,” Jake said.

  “Will he be all right back there?”

  “Sure. He and Fergus clicked like magnets. But we’d better check on him from time to time. I can’t promise he’s not a digger.”

  “Having a dog is sort of like having a furry child, isn’t it? They need to be with you,” Lacy said. “Having a cat, on the other hand, is like having a roommate. You can go your own ways with no repercussions. Well, at least not many. Effie has been known to sharpen her claws on the couch if I stay away longer than she deems appropriate.”

  Jake set his coffee cup down on her dad’s workbench. “Let’s see what we can get done on the chair.”

  They removed the cushions and donned safety glasses while they sanded the wood surfaces with fine-grain paper. It felt good to work beside Jake, to enjoy the way the muscles in his arms bunched and flexed, to catch a whiff of his clean masculine scent.

  Remember, Lacy, just friends, she told herself. We’re just friends.

  Just friends who’d shared a kiss that curled her toes. She forced away the memory.

  “Now we wipe the chair down to remove all the dust and then rub in some teak oil. Not much. It doesn’t need more than a touch of oil,” Lacy said. “I wouldn’t use any at all if it was an outdoor chair.”

  “Why is that?”

  “If it was outdoor furniture, you’d want the wood to darken from honey to gray, but since your mom uses this chair inside the lake house, a little oil will keep the natural wood tone fresh.”

  “You’re the boss.” Jake followed her instructions.

  After he was finished and the chair was gleaming, she said, “Let’s let it rest for about twenty minutes, and then see how it looks. Maybe you can check on how Fergus and Speedbump are doing in the backyard while I fix us some iced tea.”

  “Good idea. That little stinker may have burrowed halfway to China by now.”

  Speedbump hadn’t. Instead, Fergus had taught him to patrol the perimeter of the fence, making sure the backyard was safe from squirrel incursions, no doubt.

  Lacy watched out the kitchen window while she poured the tea. She almost didn’t recognize Speedbump. Now
that he was clean and professionally trimmed, he was terminally cute. Only his slight underbite saved him from looking like a total frou-frou dog. Jake tossed a ball for the dogs to chase across the yard. Sometimes, they fetched it back to him quickly so he could throw it again and sometimes, they played keep-away with each other.

  Lacy noticed that Speedbump’s right front paw was turned at a ninety degree angle each time he stopped and when he ran, there was a hitch in his get-along. Maybe that was why Jake had bonded with him so quickly. They both had mobility issues, but they weren’t about to let that slow them down.

  By the time Lacy brought out a tray with frosty glasses and a tall pitcher, Jake was sitting on the back deck steps, both dogs collapsed in panting bundles at his feet.

  Lacy bent to give Fergus and Speedbump each a pat before she sat down beside Jake and handed him a full glass. Speedbump rolled over to present his tummy for her to stroke.

  “He seems to be settling in with you pretty well,” she said.

  “I guess that’s the charm of a stray. Speedbump is grateful for any scrap of attention.” As if he recognized his name, the dog sat up. Jake reached down to scratch behind Speedbump’s ear, setting the dog’s hind leg thumping in sympathy.

  “He’s a good boy,” Lacy said.

  “Someone has spent some time training him. He’s already housebroken. Not a single accident since he came to live with me,” Jake said. “Makes me wonder if I should have you put another ad in the paper about him. He must belong to someone.”

  “If he does, they weren’t doing a good job taking care of him. And they aren’t looking for him very hard. I checked some of the back issues of the Gazette.”

  “No one put in a ‘lost dog’ notice matching his description?”

  Lacy shook her head. “And he’d obviously been on his own for a while because he was in such miserable shape when we found him. Did the vet check for an identifying chip when he had his surgery?”

  “Yeah. There wasn’t one.”

  “Then I think you’ve done enough to find his previous owners,” she said. “He may have a weird name now, but it comes with a good home. And that’s the important thing.”

  “Hey! He likes being called Speedbump, don’t you, boy?” As if to prove his master’s words, the dog reared on its hind legs and did a happy pirouette, pawing the air. “This little guy is trying pretty hard to fit into my life and honestly, I’m glad to have him. He practically turns himself inside out to welcome me home when I’m done for the day.”

  “Hence the popularity of dogs,” Lacy said. “If Effie is feeling magnanimous, she may lift her head to acknowledge my presence.”

  “Don’t go maligning that poor cat again. She seemed to like me just fine.”

  “What’s not to like?” Lacy grinned at him. “I guess I should admit that Effie and I are warming up to each other slowly. She actually curled up on my lap the other day.”

  “I’ll be darned.”

  “And I didn’t have a single sardine in my pocket.”

  “Well, that’s progress,” Jake said. “Maybe it’s just the difference between cats and dogs, but Speedbump is more eager to please. It’s like he realizes he’s got a good thing going and doesn’t want to mess it up. Almost like he’s been granted a miracle.”

  Lacy took a sip of her tea.

  “You know, it was kind of like watching a slow-motion miracle the other day, the way you and the Warm Hearts Club stood up for Lester Scott in court. Do you think he’ll realize he’s been given a good thing, too?”

  “I hope so,” Jake said. “He’s got thirty days in the tank to think about it. The miracle will kick in if he’s able to meet the judge’s demands. Lester is carrying a lot of baggage. This isn’t going to be easy for him.”

  “I suppose not,” Lacy said. “But being homeless is no picnic either. A place to live, work, and do some good for somebody else in exchange for staying sober. That seems like a good trade.”

  “From the outside looking in, it does,” Jake said. “But who knows how it looks to Lester?”

  “My uncle Roy—he’s the real writer in the family—always says everyone has a secret and if you only knew it, it would break your heart,” Lacy said. “I wonder what Lester’s is.”

  Jake shifted uncomfortably, as if he knew more about Lester’s baggage than he’d said.

  “Well, he did lose his family all those years ago,” Jake said.

  “That’s gotta hurt,” Lacy said. “Especially since it was his own fault as far as I know. Daniel never wanted to talk about it.”

  Jake’s knuckles whitened around his tea glass. She really shouldn’t have brought up Daniel.

  “The past is the past and nobody can change it,” Jake said. “All we can do is the best we can from one moment to the next.”

  Lacy studied Jake’s profile. He was a strong man. And his strength wasn’t just physical, though it was hard to ignore his well-muscled arms and broad shoulders. There was a strong spine of moral toughness in him.

  Who knew he was also wise? He was right. The past was already written. What would happen in the future was a result of the present, so “now” was all anyone really had.

  “Since Lester has no choice but to stay sober for the next thirty days,” Jake went on, “maybe it’ll help him believe his future can be different.”

  “Do you think people ever really change? Deep down, I mean.”

  Jake gave her a thoughtful look. “It depends on what kind of creatures you think we are. If we’re just a product of heredity and environment, no one can be held accountable for their actions. We’re only living machines, doing what we’re programmed to do. But I believe people are more than genes and geography. We have free will. We are who we are because of the choices we make. If someone decides to change, they can.”

  “Is that your way of reminding me you’ve changed? That you’re not a player anymore?”

  He grinned at her, his dimple in full force. “That wasn’t what I was thinking about, but I like that your mind is heading in that direction.”

  Her insides in full flutter, she looked away. No doubt about it. Her brief “Jake time” in fifth grade had not inoculated her from the power of the real thing.

  “We can’t force Lester to change,” Jake continued. “Nobody can make that decision for someone else. All we’ve done is put him into a situation where it’ll be easier for him to make good choices. That’s the hope anyway. When it comes right down to it, whether this thing succeeds or fails is up to him.”

  “Looks like in thirty days, we’ll find out which way he’s going to go.”

  Jake downed the rest of his tea in a long gulp. “Good thing we don’t have to wait that long to find out if that oil did its job. Back to the salt mines.”

  He stood and led the way back to the garage.

  The chair looked terrific, the wood as warm and lustrous as the day the piece was made. Lacy showed Jake the fabric she’d chosen for the cushions, a crisp geometric pattern in shades of blue.

  “I found an upholsterer who can do up the existing cushions in this material by next Saturday,” Lacy said.

  “Mom’s going to love it. How’d you know blue is her favorite color?”

  Lacy shrugged. “Blue is beachy and fresh, so it’s perfect for a lake house. We’ll pair it with a yellow throw and pillow to make it even cozier. Besides, blue is my favorite, too.”

  “How ’bout that?” Jake put an arm around her shoulder. His closeness was more intoxicating than Baileys in her dad’s coffee. “Both my best girls like the same color.”

  Best girl. Jacob Tyler’s best girl. It was the answer to many a Coldwater Cove maiden’s prayer.

  She just wasn’t sure it was the answer to hers.

  Not that she didn’t care about him. She did. Too much, in fact.

  But even if she opened up enough to let Jake in, how could she trust her feelings? After all, something very like this had steered her to Bradford Endicott, and look how that turned out
.

  Chapter 23

  Mrs. Chisholm is suffering from insomnia. She requests prayer and a recording of Pastor Mark’s sermon.

  —Marjorie Chubb, captain of the Methodist prayer chain

  By the time Jake and Lacy reached the public park on the town-side shore of Lake Jewel, the blankets of hundreds of late-lunch picnickers dotted the green around the gazebo that doubled as a band shell. The park looked like a living patchwork quilt.

  The air smelled of freshly cut grass. Jake drew in a deep lungful. Spring was his favorite time in Coldwater Cove. It was still too early for the humidity of high summer, but warm enough that every bush and tree had burst into full flower. Azaleas and lilacs, dogwoods and Bradford pear trees ringed the park. Best of all, the sunny weather had encouraged Lacy to rush the season and bare her long legs in a pair of shorts.

  Why would a man want to live anywhere else?

  The community band assembled in the gazebo and started warming up with squeaks and squawks and snippets of Sousa marches. Under the shade of a live oak, Jake picked a spot to spread out a worn blanket about halfway between the gazebo and the lake. That way they’d be close enough to hear the band once it started playing in earnest, yet not so close as to be bothered by the honks and caterwauling of the tuning up now.

  “Kind of makes you want to break out the old kazoo, doesn’t it?” he teased.

  “It was a clarinet, not a kazoo,” Lacy corrected. “And no. You don’t want to hear me play it anymore. You’d have to move this blanket all the way down to the lake if I was in the band.”

  “That’s OK. I’d rather have you on the blanket with me anyway.”

  Of course, they didn’t have the blanket all to themselves. Speedbump was there. He was on a leash, but the little dog didn’t test its limits. After playing with Fergus all morning, Speedbump was content just to curl up on a corner of the blanket. While Jake helped Lacy unpack the picnic basket, his unlikely version of man’s best friend nodded off with a wuf-fling snore. Instead of running in his sleep, paws churning like most dogs’ did, Speedbump’s tail started thumping while his eyes were still shut tight.