Tuesday frowned. “But that’s four hours south. They felt it up here?”
“Of course. That’s just a hop skip and a jump when it comes to how earthquakes ripple through this state.”
“What was the top level?”
“It was more like an upper deck, and the builders hadn’t finished attaching it to the roof properly. It was a widow’s walk. Do you know what that is?”
She nodded. “Where women watched and waited for their sailor husbands to come home.”
“Romantic, right?”
Tuesday looked startled. “Very.”
“Well. Not this house. When Mrs. Callahan first built it, she’d already lost her husband. Legend says he’d been an alcoholic and he’d beaten both her and her daughters. She wanted the widow’s walk on top so that she could keep an eye on her property, to make sure she kept men away.”
“Why?”
“She didn’t want to marry again. She’d inherited his fortune, and she wasn’t interested in losing any part of it. And she wanted her two daughters to remain spinsters.”
Tuesday’s eyes sparkled. She had that curious superpower of making him feel like he was the only person in the room when she looked at him like that. “That’s wonderful.”
He’d thought it was terrible when he’d heard the story, so many years ago now. Mrs. Brown, his third grade teacher, had told him the tale, when he was sitting right here, in this room. Mrs. Brown had seemed to like her husband quite a lot—at least, she kissed him when he came home for dinner as if she did. But young Aidan had wondered how many other women worked hard to keep men out of their lives.
What if…? he’d asked Mrs. Brown.
What if what?
What if she’d been meant to fall in love with someone else?
Mrs. Brown had smiled her special, sweet smile at him, the smile that made him feel smart, like he could finally learn the eight times-table. You’re a romantic, huh?
I think that people are meant for each other. That’s what his mother always said. That’s why she kept leaving Bill and going back to their father, over and over again. Do you think that?
Mrs. Brown had looked at Mr. Brown across the table. I do.
What if the widow had another person who’d been meant for her but she kept him away?
We’ll never know, will we?
Tuesday went to the window to look down into the garden and over the top of the town. “Just think of her. Alone with her daughters, taking care of them. The world might shake the top of their house off, but it can’t shake them apart. They stayed together, as a family, all the women in one spot.”
“Until each of her daughters eloped.”
The corners of her mouth turned down. “Oh.”
“Sorry to disappoint.”
“Is it true the whole top of the house came off?”
Yeah, well. It was possible that Mrs. Callahan’s builders just hadn’t finished securing the widow’s walk to the roof when the quake hit. Construction blamed a lot of things on the quake that year. That made more sense to Aidan than having the top part of a house slide off, which it wouldn’t have done, unless it hadn’t really been there to begin with. “You’re the kind of person who likes to know things for sure, huh?”
Tuesday crossed her arms, and in those black cat-eye glasses, she looked like a stern librarian. “Yes. I do.”
A hot stern librarian.
Yeah, he didn’t need to think about her like that.
“We’ll never know. Okay.” Aidan patted the wall. “She’s still built sturdy, though. Even the cracked foundation we can fix pretty quickly with enough manpower. We need to talk about what you want to do to this place.”
With a little wheedling, hopefully he could talk her into doing as little damage to the old place as possible. Heck, maybe it would turn out that this was a blessing in disguise. She’d fork over the money to fix the place up so that when he bought it from her, he’d have less to do.
If she left in a rush, he might get a truly good deal.
Time to put his mind to it.
Chapter 9
T
uesday had more than a week of downtime, as the crew got the necessary supplies and manpower on site. Labor, she corrected herself. Just because Aidan Ballard was sexist didn’t mean she had to be. (She had noticed women on the site, though, so at least they weren’t sexist in their hiring.)
Jake was busy on site, too, and Felicia had told Tuesday to just enjoy the relaxation of nothing to do. “No dates, no working, just spend time getting to know your new town. Jake’s planning your first outing, which will be next Friday night, so that’s all you have to think about. Let me know if you need suggestions of things to do. There’s a good local spa about fifteen miles north, if that’s what you’re into, or I can tell you where the outlet mall is.”
Tuesday didn’t like shopping much, unless it was for books or fancy cheese, and she didn’t love strangers kneading her body, either. “Is there a bookstore in town?”
Felicia wrinkled her nose. “No. Sadly, our only bookstore closed about six years ago. But the library is great, and you can get a card. Just use the Callahan address.”
The week had passed more quickly than she thought it would, though. The library gave her a card, and she read two thrillers. She stopped by the house three times to see what was happening. Each time Aidan either ignored her or glared in her direction. The south side of the house was jacked up with a machine that looked like it could lift a skyscraper, and workers moved around underneath.
What if it fell? Cars slipped off jacks, didn’t they?
It made Tuesday too nervous. She wouldn’t go back until that part was done.
Then it was date night.
She wasn’t nervous, exactly. It was what it was—a means to an end. The show revolved around the brothers fixing up the house, and the buyer dating one of them. Because she was playing along, the network was making the whole down payment for her. It was a good reason. Her mother had been smart to sign her up for the show.
And Tuesday didn’t mind going out with Jake. He seemed kind and funny the few times she’d spoken to him.
But she felt unsettled.
The person she’d really be nervous to go out with would be Aidan.
So thank goodness that was off the table. As she dressed for the date, she kept her mind firmly off the middle Ballard brother. She didn’t think about Aidan’s roughened, wide hands once. She most certainly didn’t think about the way he’d smiled at the mother of the toddler he’d grabbed. Or the way his eyes had twinkled. Nope. She would not think about that.
Tuesday focused on knotting the tie of her red wrap dress. Jaunty. That’s what her mother had said, when she’d given it to her. Just make a jaunty bow at your hip. Let me show you how. Oh, just look at you. Cute as heck, sugar.
That was fine for her mother to say. Her mother could take a paper sack and some string and wrap a present that looked as if it had been professionally done. Tuesday, on the other hand, bought gift bags to put presents in. As soon as Scotch tape got involved, things went sideways on her.
Packaging herself into the dress was the same kind of challenge. No matter what she did with the tie, it didn’t seem to fit her well. She honestly couldn’t tell if the dress was too large or just right. When she draped the panels between her breasts, the place the fabric met in the middle seemed awfully low. So much cleavage. Was that something that looked better or worse on screen? She couldn’t make a decent-looking bow to save her life, and just opted for an overhand knot.
Fine.
She looked just fine.
That wasn’t bad, was it? That she kind of looked boring?
She added black heels and silver drop earrings.
She put on lipstick, the kind that didn’t wear off. Her mother had bought her this, too. It wasn’t until Tuesday poked her head outside and checked her makeup in the natural light on the balcony that she realized the lipstick was red-red. Red-light district red. Did her
mother want her to look like a street-walking floozy on national television? Tuesday rubbed at it with a tissue, but the stay-on property was strong, and the tissue came away clean.
The curling iron was heated, and she took a stab at curling the ends of her hair, but whatever curl she got into her locks almost immediately fell out.
She stopped trying. She pointed at herself in the mirror. “You are plainly plain.” It hurt, even coming from herself. “Plain.”
To her parents, plain was sturdy. It was strong. Something to be proud of. Her father made plain wooden furniture in the garage on his days off. Her mother wore a plain gray apron when she cooked. Frills were for other people, not for them. Even the lipstick her mother chose had probably been picked because of its long-lasting quality.
For just one moment, Tuesday closed her eyes and wished she were someone else.
Someone pretty enough to make men gasp as she walked past.
She imagined, just for a split second, Aidan seeing her as a vixen. Aidan losing his breath.
Nope. Jake was the one who was picking her up, and Jake was the one she should be imagining.
As if she’d called for him, he knocked on her door.
“Hey,” he said. From behind him in the hallway of the Cat’s Claw, the camera waited, Jake’s silent followers. Behind them stood Pearl Hawthorne. She wore an extra layer of lipstick, Tuesday noticed, though Pearl’s was more orange.
Pearl bobbed up and down, gripping the neckline of her sweater. “Will I be in this scene? Me? When will I be able to see it. Will you send me the footage?”
“You look great, Tuesday.” Jake seemed to be sincere—his smile wide. He kissed her chastely on the cheek and said, “Shall we?”
Tuesday wished they didn’t have to.
The restaurant he’d chosen, Caprese, was nice. It was a touristy place, with red candles and a view of the boats in the marina.
“I like to eat here because I can see my house.” Jake pointed to a pier where four boats were docked.
“Which one is it?”
“The green one.”
“Ah. Pretty.” She hoped it was the right thing to say about a boat.
“Do you like being on the water?”
“Mmmm.” A camera person took a step closer and zoomed in on her hands. She stopped fiddling with the napkin. She was anxious somehow, but not about Jake, exactly.
“Yes? No?”
“I get seasick.”
“Oh.” Jake’s eyes dropped, and he poked at the tablecloth with a finger. Then he glanced up hopefully. “How seasick?”
“Kill-me-now sick.” Guilt washed over her. “I can’t even stand on a dock, usually. Once I ate at a restaurant that was perched on stilts in Lake Superior. I got seasick there, and it wasn’t even really moving. Just the idea that the pier might rock a little set me off. I’m sorry. I bet it was gorgeous out there, sleeping at night.” She imagined being next to Jake on a creaking boat, being in his bed. She imagined hurling into a bag while sitting on the side of the same bed.
Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen. Her skin felt like it didn’t fit, and the chair was uncomfortable beneath her.
Jake took a quick sip of his wine. “Not your fault, is it? You can’t help it.”
She couldn’t. But she wished for a moment she could.
Dinner passed slower than any dinner she’d ever had anywhere, including the four course meals her gran used to make on Easter. She limited herself to one glass of wine, which seemed like a prudent idea when in front of multiple cameras.
They made awkward small talk. Whatever Jake said seemed to circle back to boats, and every time he brought them up, he seemed embarrassed and concerned, as if just talking about them might make her queasy. “Sorry. Where have you sailed—I mean, where have you traveled recently? Besides Darling Bay.”
Tuesday ignored the question. “What’s the plan for the rest of the night?” She couldn’t handle much more of this. It was agony, and they were both in it, obviously. Maybe he’d kiss her later—maybe she’d be startled by chemistry flaring between them.
But probably not.
Jake’s face fell again. “I was going to show you around my boat.”
Tuesday grimaced. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, I really am sorry.” She tried to paste brightness onto her face and shove it into her voice. “What else is there to do in Darling Bay on a Friday night? There have to be some fun things to do, right?”
He blinked. “There’s the Golden Spike saloon.”
“What else?” It was the bar the Darling Songbirds owned, and it seemed like a place the whole town might congregate, and she didn’t know if she was ready for that.
“There’s night fishing in the estuary but…”
“Boat.”
“Yeah,” he said sadly. “And there’s drinking on the ferry out to Sandbar but...”
“Ferry.”
“Yeah.”
She’d add this later to the never-ending, never-sent email to Diana. It was the worst date ever. And it’s going to be televised. The only thing not horrible about it is that Jake is sweet and the bread is delicious. “Does the saloon have a pool table?”
Jake’s eyes lit a tiny bit. “Yeah. You play?”
Tuesday raised her palms and let them drop. “Well, I’ve been called a shark, but I’ll only admit that to you.” And the millions of people who would see her on TV.
Millions.
Her stomach dropped away. This was the worst idea ever.
“I’m game if you are,” he said, standing.
Anna, the woman who seemed to run things when Felicia wasn’t around, said, “What’s the noise level like in there? Will we be able to film?”
Jake grinned. “It’s quiet as a library.”
Chapter 10
J
ake tried to hold Tuesday’s hand as they walked toward the bar. She thought it was a fine idea. Holding hands. Nothing more romantically filmable except a kiss, right? And sure enough, the camera crew fell behind them and filmed their backs as they walked.
But it felt weird.
Holding hands with Jake reminded her of something. It took a minute to figure out what it was, but then she had it—when she was little, she loved to swing from her father’s hand as they walked. That’s what it felt like.
Like holding Dad’s hand.
As smoothly as she could, she pulled her hand back and said, “Just have to get something in my purse.” She checked her lipstick as they’d left the restaurant (the red still clung to her lips—it would probably still be on at her funeral), so she couldn’t really do that again. She had to do something, so she pulled out a pen and clicked it once before dropping it back in her bag.
Jake looked at her, but thankfully he didn’t ask. He stuck his hand back into his pocket and ambled along next to her.
As they entered the bar, Tuesday found that Jake had lied about the noise level, and God bless him for doing it. He must have been having as miserable a time at the quiet restaurant as she had.
A four-man band played on the small stage—a sign said they were Dust & Rusty. They weren’t bad as country music went, and several couples danced up close to the stage. The saloon itself seemed pretty full. Jake pointed to a small table that had just opened and pointed. “Want to grab that one? What would you like?”
“A beer. Any kind.” She wasn’t picky. Just something to give her hands something to do while they waited for the pool table to open.
“You got it.”
Before she sat, she approached the pool table tucked into the far corner. A beer lamp swung gently above it, as if someone had just touched it with a cue stick on accident.
“How much to play?” she asked the man with his back to her who was about to take a shot. “Can I call a game?”
The man pulled his stick back smoothly and shot the seven ball into the corner pocket. “Fifty cents. Put your quarters on the rail. You can play winner.” He tu
rned.
Aidan.
Tuesday felt heat shoot to the top of her head. He stood stock-still in front of her, tall and handsome and utterly distracting. A lock of his brown hair had flopped over one eye as he leaned to take his shot, and now he pushed it back.
Of course he was here. Her heart raced, but she pulled two quarters out of her purse and lined them up carefully along the pool table’s edge. “Cool.”
He nodded without smiling and moved to take his next shot.
Tuesday took the chair Jake had pointed out. She held her purse on her knees.
She felt like an idiot, and she had no idea why.
This was a date. A date that she’d agreed to be on. So her date’s brother was here. Why wouldn’t he be? It was Friday night in a small town—most likely half the town would cycle through here tonight, right?
The camera crew, meanwhile, was earning stares.
Anna placed her camera on the table and crouched next to her. “I’m concerned with the noise level. We’ve shot in here before, but never on a crowded night.”
She said something else that Tuesday couldn’t hear. “What?”
“I said, we can get some video, even with the low light, but I don’t think we’re going to be able to get audio.”
“Is that a problem?” Tuesday didn’t want to leave. Not anymore.
Anna shrugged. “It’s not ideal. But if you do some large visual cues, that’ll be enough for background later.”
“Visual cues?”
“You know.” Anna looked at the bar like she wanted a beer, too. “Lean against Jake. Smile up at him. Laugh at his jokes, touch his arm. That kind of thing.”
She meant Fake it.
Tuesday glanced at Aidan. He was talking to his pool partner, leaning close and speaking directly into her ear. The woman, a brunette with high cleavage packed into a tight white shirt, gave a happy laugh and flung her arms around his neck. She pressed her breasts into his chest and planted a kiss on him that Tuesday could almost hear from fifteen feet away.
Yeah, Tuesday could fake it. That wouldn’t be a problem. “Sure.”
Build it Strong (The Ballard Brothers of Darling Bay Book 2) Page 5
