“Yes. Logan’s over there putting his books on his bookshelf.”
“You coming over?”
“In a minute.”
“See you there.” Clay went down the back steps and cut across the backyard to the path that led to the old house that hard work and a whole army of contractors had turned into a home for his sister and her son. It was late in the day and the sun had almost set, and when he tripped over a rock in the path, Clay was reminded that they should have some sort of illumination back here.
His eight-year-old nephew was standing in the doorway before he reached the house.
“Mom called to tell me you were coming,” Logan called out to Clay. “She said to open the door.”
“Thanks, buddy. I appreciate it.”
The door opened directly into the large living area that was stacked high with boxes.
“Any idea where your mom wants this box?” Too late, Clay realized he should have asked Brooke where she wanted it.
“Nope.” Logan shook his head.
Clay put the box down inside the front door. “I can move it when she gets here.” He looked around the room where he himself had once hung his hat. The place had come together nicely since Brooke had decided to make it her own. “It’s looking good in here,” he told his nephew.
“Uh-huh.” Logan nodded enthusiastically. “Wanna see my room? It’s upstairs.”
“Sure. Lead the way.” Even though Clay already knew which room belonged to Logan, he gestured for the boy to go first.
Logan bounded up the steps and Clay followed.
“See? I got all these shelves built in for my stuff.”
Logan pointed to one of the short walls.
“I do see.” Clay scanned the rows of books, games, and action figures. “You’ve got some pretty cool stuff here.”
Logan nodded and pulled a pair of books from the top shelf where they stood between bookends. “My uncle Jason gave me these. See? The Hardy Boys. That’s who the books are about, these two guys named Joe and Frank and their last name is Hardy. They have all these adventures.”
He held up The Missing Chums. “ ‘Chums’ is another word for friends,” he explained. “Their friends are Biff and Chet. They got disappeared.”
“I read that one when I was a boy.” Clay held out a hand to look at the book. He opened it, and inside found the name “Eric Bowers” printed in green ink. Underneath, Logan had printed his own name in black. “This was your dad’s book,” Clay noted.
“Uh-huh.” Logan leaned over Clay and pointed to the two names. “That’s why his name is in it. I wrote my name in there, too, because it’s my book now.”
“That was very nice of your uncle Jason to give this book to you.”
Logan nodded. “I like having my dad’s stuff.” He went to the bottom shelf and picked up a baseball glove. “This was my dad’s, too. I don’t use it so much.”
“I remember.” Clay had coached Logan’s baseball team the year before, and had purchased a new glove when it became apparent that the boy was afraid to use his father’s glove, lest something happen to it.
“And I have a new lamp.” Logan picked up the desk lamp.
“But an old desk,” Clay pointed out.
“Your old desk. From when you were a kid.”
“I did a lot of homework on that old desk,” Clay told him.
“Ugh. Homework.” Logan grimaced. “I’d rather watch TV.”
“Sure. Who wouldn’t rather play than work?” Clay leaned against the doorjamb. “But you know the rule …”
“ ‘Work first. Play after.’ ” Logan made a face.
“Right.”
“Hey, are you guys up there?” Brooke called from the first floor.
Clay turned in the direction of the steps. “Logan’s showing me his new room.”
“If you’re done, could you come help me get a few of these boxes into the kitchen?”
“Are we done?” Clay asked Logan, who was getting himself comfortable on the floor with The Missing Chums.
Already lost in the story, Logan nodded.
Clay took the steps two at a time. When he reached the first floor, he hoisted the box he’d brought over minutes before.
“Does this go in the kitchen?” he asked Brooke.
“That one goes into my office, which is the room right through there.” Brooke pointed to an arched opening. “Thanks, Clay.”
He made the delivery, and then came back into the living room. “How about these boxes?”
“Kitchen,” she said as she lifted one. “Honestly, it’s going to take me weeks to get this place straightened out.” Her voice trailed toward the kitchen.
Clay stacked two boxes, one atop the other, and followed her. Once in the kitchen, he placed them on the floor in what would be Brooke’s breakfast nook, once she had a table. “Any others out front belong in here?”
“All the boxes along the fireplace wall.”
“I’ll get them.”
After they’d brought in the last box, he asked, “When will your furniture arrive?”
“It’s all supposed to be here next week.” She leaned back against the counter. “I have some things in storage that Jesse is going to help me with tomorrow. The new stuff will be here on Tuesday.”
He opened the refrigerator door, hoping to find a beer or, at the very least, a bottle of water. Nada.
“I’m afraid all I can offer this time around is water.” Brooke opened a cabinet and took out a glass, which she handed to him. “The well is hooked up.”
“Thanks.” He poured a glass of water from the sink and took a long drink. “What else has to be done before you can move in?”
“Just the furniture delivery and emptying the boxes. I’m hoping it doesn’t take me too long to get organized. I have a business to run.”
“Moving into a new home and opening a new business at the same time—I’d say you have no sense of timing.”
“Could have been better,” she agreed. “But when Mom decided to close up her shop and offered me the space for my cupcake bakery, it was too good to pass up.”
“What will the residents of St. Dennis do, now that there is no Bow Wows and Meows?” he asked, referring to the specialty pet supply shop their mother had owned on Charles Street.
“Not to mention all those tourists who liked to buy those froufrou outfits for their little dogs.” Brooke grinned. “Their loss will be their gain, once they taste my cupcakes.”
“It’s been my gain. About five pounds’ worth since you started baking.”
“Don’t blame my cupcakes. Blame your lack of willpower.”
“You bake a mean cupcake, sister.”
“I do, indeed.” Brooke beamed and pointed to her new stove with the double ovens. “And I’ll be able to bake even more with my newly installed appliances.”
“It’s pretty fancy, all right,” he agreed.
“I figured I’d bake a sampling and dazzle Lucy with my creativity when she’s here next week.”
“Oh.” Clay frowned. “About that …”
“You didn’t go all Neanderthal on her and scare her off, did you?”
“Of course not. She called a little while ago to let me know she had to postpone her trip.”
“Why?”
“Work overload.”
“So when’s she coming?”
“Probably not until April.” He took another long drink of water, then refilled his glass. He could feel his sister’s glare on the back of his neck.
“April? April as in February-March-April?”
“That would be the one.”
“Humph.” Brooke crossed her arms over her chest.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing.” She turned her back and started to unpack a box.
“What, Brooke?”
“Why the delay?”
“She’s just overwhelmed. Overbooked and understaffed, apparently.” He leaned back against the counter. “What’s with the attitu
de? From the way you were acting at Enright’s, I thought you and Lucy were going to be BFFs.”
“I don’t like that she’s jerking you around, okay?”
“She’s not jerking me around.”
“She knows how you feel about her and she’s putting as much distance, timewise, as she can between you and her.”
“Lucy is running a business, Brooke. A very successful one. You of all people know how hard that is. Right now she’s a little over her head. She lost time out there because of the MacGregor wedding, and she’s going to lose more time with the Magellan wedding. She’s just trying to get through the events she contracted for over the next couple of months so that she can spend a couple of weeks out here taking care of what she needs to do for Magellan.”
“I think it’s really nice of you to defend her, but I still think she’s jerking your chain.” When he opened his mouth to speak, she held up a hand to stop him and said, “Just remember you heard it here first.”
“As if you’re likely to let me forget,” he muttered.
“I don’t want to see you hurt, Clay. You deserve someone who’s going to be here for you. That someone isn’t going to be Lucy.”
“Well, that’s too bad for me, then, because Lucy is the only someone I want.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. “I had this discussion with your boyfriend not too long ago, and I’ll tell you what I told him. I appreciate your concern. I thank you for caring. But Lucy is the only woman I want, and this—this time she’s going to be spending here—may be the only chance I’ll ever have. I really wish you’d respect that. I really wish you’d just wish me luck, and then shut up about how she’s going to break my heart.”
Brooke was silent for a long moment. Finally, she said, “I don’t remember saying I thought she was going to break your heart.”
“That’s what you meant.”
“Actually, yeah, I did. And I’m sorry. I just think you’re a terrific guy, and you could have your pick of any single woman in this town.” She smiled. “Maybe a few not-so-single ones as well. But I get that Lucy is the one who floats your boat. I do respect that, and I do wish you well. And now I will shut up about it.”
“Really?”
“Well, for now anyway.” Brooke’s smile widened.
“I guess I should be grateful for that.” Hoping to move past the subject, he opened a carton and took out a smaller box that he sat on the counter and opened. “Spices. Where will you be keeping this stuff?”
“Just leave it. It always takes me a while to move things around before I’m satisfied.”
“What makes you think she knows how I feel about her, anyway?” he asked.
It took a moment for Brooke to respond. “I guess I sort of told her.”
“Did you, now?” Clay glared. “How nice of you.”
“I’m sorry. It just sort of came out the night we were at Vanessa’s.”
“So what did she say?”
“She sort of denied that you had anything but friendly feelings for her, but I could tell that it gave her something to think about.”
“I would appreciate it if you would leave my relationship with Lucy to me.”
“I said I was sorry, and I meant it.” She paused, then said, “Okay, since we’re still on the subject—which you reintroduced even after we agreed not to talk about it—you know what I don’t understand? Why you’re not upset about Lucy not coming home next week.”
“Look, you’ve been in business for yourself for what, all of three months now? Lucy’s spent nearly fifteen years building her reputation. That’s a long time. She feels she owes it to the clients she has to give them her best—which is why she’s so successful. Taking time off right now, when she’s booked to the max, means taking shortcuts somewhere down the line, and she doesn’t want to shortchange her clients, who pay top dollar for her work. I understand that because I feel the same way about the people I grow for. I promise the best produce on the market, and that’s what I deliver. I don’t take shortcuts and when I say my crops are one hundred percent organic, people know they can trust that. When you are in business for yourself, your reputation is basically all you have.
“And besides, I know that when she comes back here in April, she’ll stay longer, which means I’ll have more time to spend with her.”
“I hope you’re right, Clay,” Brooke said. “I really want you to be right.”
“Hey, so do I,” he conceded. “No one wants me to be right more than I do …”
“But, Clay.” Brooke’s tone softened. “Even if she comes out here and spends some time and say you guys get together and everything is just skippy between you.” She paused. “Where does it go from there? You said it yourself. Lucy has a successful business that she’s spent a lot of time building out there. You have one thriving enterprise going here and you’re embarking on another. What do you think is going to happen once the Magellan wedding is over?”
“I haven’t thought that far ahead,” he replied.
“Maybe you should.”
“Maybe I will. For now, we’ll just have to wait until April to see how it all shakes out.”
Clay went back into the living room and, over the course of several trips, brought the rest of the boxes into the kitchen, making it clear he was done with the conversation. Of course he’d asked himself what would happen after Lucy’s wedding planning duties were finished, but he hadn’t come up with any answer he’d liked, so he’d dropped it, just as he was doing now.
“If you don’t need me for anything else,” he told Brooke from the doorway, “I think I’ll run back to the house and order a few pizzas.”
“I’m good here,” she told him. “But maybe you could take Logan and get him started on his homework. I need about another half hour here. That’s all the time I can spare tonight because I have some cupcakes to frost for tomorrow.”
“You got it,” he replied. “Pizza and homework, not necessarily in that order.”
He bounded up the stairs to get Logan, who insisted on bringing his book back to the house. They walked across the snowy expanse, Logan chattering about the dog they were going to get as soon as they moved into the house and got settled. Together they tackled a list of spelling words and second-grade math, and when they were through, set out for Robotti’s to pick up their pizza. Brooke arrived at the house about the same time they did, and the three of them ate together in the kitchen. When they finished, Brooke herded Logan upstairs to get ready for bed, and Clay put the plates and glasses into the dishwasher before going into his office.
There were plans for the new brewery to be signed off on, and orders for equipment to be doubled-checked. His sketch for the hop barn had been sent to the same architect who was retrofitting the larger of the barns for the brewery, and they were awaiting the final plans. He thought it would look pretty cool, and he was eager to get started.
Clay smiled to himself. He’d been right about Cam O’Connor and the old barn boards. When Cam saw what they had, what he could have, he was more than happy to do the demo for nothing. Every piece of siding that Cam removed had been afforded the type of respect that should be shown to something that had survived for well over a hundred and fifty years. Cam had been so happy that he agreed to make a table for Brooke’s new house as a special thank-you.
He put the brewery aside and looked over the plans he’d made for planting. As soon as he could work the soil, he’d put in the barley he and Wade wanted to test for their first batches of beer. Of course, he couldn’t control the weather, but he was hoping for a dry enough spring that the barley, which needed very dry soil, would be happy. The hops rhizomes would take a couple of years to mature, so while they planted what they hoped would be a bumper crop in three years, this year they’d be buying from a wholesaler. Wade had an entire list of flavored beers he’d brewed in Texas that he wanted to re-create in their new venture, so they’d be growing the herbs, flowers, and fruits he’d had success with in the past. In a
ddition, Clay had large plots of vegetables and herbs to plant for his regular customers, so he would be doing double duty this year.
Pushing aside Brooke and her doubts—and his own—even those he had about Lucy—Clay flipped through the catalog of heirloom vegetables he’d received in that day’s mail, and turned his attention to the crops he’d plant that spring. Truth be told, he wouldn’t have had a whole lot of free time for Lucy these next few months anyway. By April, his crops should be in the ground, and he’d have a little more spare time, but it would take a lot of work to get them there, and the farm had to be his priority right now. It wasn’t in his nature to brood or to focus too hard on things he couldn’t control. He, too, had a business to run.
Diary ~
Well, this has been a most interesting week! Trula invited me to visit, the occasion being her birthday. She did tell me that Robert had a surprise planned for her, but she had no idea what it might be. He did tell her to tell me to pack a travel bag and bring my passport, but not another bit of information. So hard to pack for a trip when you don’t know where you’re going or how long you’ll be staying! In the end, I did all right on that score, but the trip was more than either of us could dare anticipate!
There we were, boarding Robert’s private jet (what a fun experience to fly without going through the whole airport security thing!), still no idea for where we were bound (I must admit to enjoying the bit of mystery!). It wasn’t long before we knew we were headed across the pond—that great expanse of deep blue sea was a dead giveaway!—but as for our destination, everyone’s lips were sealed.
Did I mention we were accompanied by Robert and Susanna, Robert’s cousin, Father Kevin, and several members of Robert’s staff at the Mercy Street Foundation—Mallory, Emme, and her darling daughter Chloe? We landed first in London, where we were whisked away to the Savoy and shown to our sumptuous rooms. Then a delightful lunch followed by a stop at the British Museum, one of those places that topped Trula’s “bucket list.” After the museum, high tea at the hotel, then shopping at Harrods. Dinner at one of Gordon Ramsay’s restaurants, then back to the hotel, where Trula and I shared a room. How fun that was! Just like when we were young girls … oh, how many years ago was that!
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