The Boathouse (A Pelican Pointe Novel Book 14)

by Vickie McKeehan

  “We’re replacing it,” Astor decided without glancing back at her husband. “I’m not waiting around for it to do this to me again.” She took a step closer to the counter. “And, Tucker, when you get a minute, I bought some pansies yesterday and thought they’d look nice in one of those window boxes you had on display last April.”

  “I know the one you had your eye on. I’ll get it for you.” To Arthur, Tucker asked, “Who will you get to install the disposal? Because Lucien Sutter left some of his business cards with me when he was in here last. He installs all kinds of things. He’s good, too, and reasonably priced. I wouldn’t recommend him otherwise.”

  Arthur had gotten distracted. He stood in front of the display for disaster readiness kits—backpacks and tubs stuffed with rations, and first aid items to use in case of earthquakes or brush fires.

  Astor looked at her husband and rolled her eyes. “I’ll give this guy a call. Is that the boy who got himself a fancy degree but found out he’s better suited to other things?”

  Tucker smiled. Everyone was a boy to Astor, even if Lucien had already celebrated his thirtieth birthday. “That’s the guy. He also builds beautiful furniture out of tree limbs he finds along the roadway.”

  “Ah, yes. We all need a coffee table built out of a dried-up, old piece of wood,” Astor muttered.

  “Don’t knock it. Lucien has a knack for turning it into a conversation piece. I have one of his creations myself.”

  Astor shook her head. “Young people. They mystify me. Used to people would go get a job, make it a career, and stick with it. Now they want to do something that makes them happy.”

  Tucker gave Astor a stern look. “Not many manufacturing jobs left anymore, certainly not furniture. Besides, we’re not all cut out for business. Some people are creative, talented, and need to follow their hearts.”

  “I suppose that’s true. Look at you. Coming back to take over the mess your dad made. You’re a good son.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because everyone knows you don’t want to be here.”

  Tucker wrapped up the transaction with the Gaylords and, for the rest of the day, was haunted by Astor’s words. It wouldn’t do to hide his embarrassment or his humiliation when everyone knew about his dad’s—Astor had called it—a mess.

  He remembered the first time he’d delved into the store’s books and bank records and realized his father had cleaned out the accounts, leaving a balance that would barely cover the electric bill, let alone an amount that would pay the suppliers.

  Tucker had taken money out of his own savings account to cover the debts to the tune of almost twenty grand. He would’ve gladly done it earlier if only his father had asked for help. But Joe Ferguson wasn’t one to trust anyone or confide in his son about anything.

  Maybe it was that anger within that he needed to find a better way to handle. Because after more than three years, it was beginning to eat at him, especially on days like today when his dad wouldn’t even take his calls. Even he knew that kind of anger would eventually destroy his outlook on the business, maybe on life in general. And since his mother wasn’t around to act as a buffer between them like she had for most of his life, he wasn’t sure what to do.

  Tucker waited on other customers, a slow stream of people out browsing on a Sunday afternoon. Whether they were looking for decorative curtain rods or needing essential plumbing items, each time, he was able to make a sell.

  He reminded himself that he couldn’t always count on the pricey items to move. The warehouse was full of them. Sometimes it took steady sales of the smaller stuff to see a profit.

  Standing behind the counter, he glanced over at the plant Bodie had wanted and thought of her. For the rest of the afternoon, he found himself smiling for no reason at all.

  Bodie clocked in at the garden center a few minutes before two o’clock. The first thing she did was to hunt down the pallet where the mini monsteras had been only to find it empty. She perused the aisles but couldn’t locate a single plant anywhere. It was Shelby who let her in on the bad news. The mini monsteras had sold out by noon.

  “Don’t worry,” Shelby told her. “Caleb put in an order for more.”

  “How long do you think?”

  “A week. Probably,” Shelby added with a grin. “I know how much you wanted one for yourself.”

  “That’s okay. A week is better. It falls closer to payday anyway. Put one aside for me, though. You did get my IOU for the one I took for Ellie, right?”

  Shelby waved away the reminder. “I tore it up. Chalk it up to a good deed. No argument. I’m so glad to have you working here that it’s my way of saying we appreciate you.” She fanned her face from the heat. “Having said that, I’m ready to get off my feet, sit down to lunch, and have a glass of cold-brewed tea.”

  “Go ahead. Where’s Shiloh?”

  Shelby made a face before pulling out the till and switching places with Bodie. “She arrived at ten and clocked out fifteen minutes early. Landon is getting more fed up by the day. Caleb isn’t much happier. I wished we’d known ahead of time that Shiloh had zero interest in gardening before we gave her the job.”

  “Maybe you could use her lack of interest to your advantage, suggest she look for something that makes her happier.”

  “Like what? This isn’t exactly a great place to find your dream job.” Shelby massaged the temple on one side of her head that began to ache from the stress. “Sorry. I’m not upset about her leaving fifteen minutes early. I’ve come to expect that. No, it’s the way she touches and flirts with all the male customers. I had four complaints in less than four hours this morning. Landon doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t want to worry Tahoe with this kind of thing. And Shiloh needs this job to stay in town.”

  Bodie slid her till into the register and prepared for the next four hours. “If you ask me, I think she’s taking advantage of you guys. But that’s just me.”

  “That’s what Landon says. I’m not sure how much longer he’ll put up with it. Lord, I’m tired. I’m headed home to that nice lunch. Maybe I’ll forego the tea and prop my feet up with an early afternoon glass of wine. Call or text if there are any emergencies. And by text, I mean take care of it yourself.”

  Bodie grinned. It wasn’t the first time Shelby had given her those same instructions. “Will do. Have a good afternoon.”

  “I plan on it.”

  For the next several hours, Bodie ran the register and helped customers who were browsing for just the right summer flower. She suggested more than once hanging baskets full of hydrangea and hibiscus and made sure to point out the four-foot bird of paradise pots that were a steal at ten bucks a pop.

  She sold forty dollars’ worth of ruffled petunias to Bette Magnuson and made another sale to Jolene Sanders and her daughter. The pair bought several baskets of begonias to spruce up the front porch.

  While a few stragglers remained in the greenhouse to browse, Bodie was surprised to see Drea stop by and load up her van with an assortment of floral arrangements for the week ahead. “Don’t you usually wait until Monday to do that?” Bodie asked.

  Drea nodded with a gleam in her eye. “I do, but Zach and I plan to leave on our honeymoon. Bora Bora. We’re driving to Santa Cruz tonight to fly out in the morning. For the next ten days, we’ll be four thousand miles away in the South Pacific soaking up the rays.”

  “Who’s looking after the shop?”

  “Hannah agreed to do it. Not without some haggling. Although I had to dangle some extra incentive, I volunteered Zach and me to help out with the harvest come August.”

  “Ah, the grapes. Their first huge crop. Yep, I promised I’d be there.”

  “Exactly. Caleb is over the moon. The growing process has taken them longer than they originally thought.”

  “Hannah mentioned they didn’t get much yield on their first attempt.”

  “Disappointing for sure. Anyway, I’m here stocking up, so Hannah won’t have to worry about r
eplenishing the cooler for walk-in customers. And Caleb will help her out if need be. I think Shelby and Landon would too, but they have their hands full here. And since Shiloh is such a waste of space…” Drea’s mouth dropped open after realizing what she’d said. “Oh. That didn’t come out right.”

  “It’s okay, I know what you meant.”

  “Good. Because I wasn’t supposed to blurt it out like that, but you work here, you must know that Shiloh has issues.”

  “I do. Yeah.”

  “I hear you’re dating Tucker.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. You two were spotted at The Shipwreck last night…” She leaned in and whispered, “Together.”

  “We had a friendly pizza, a meal, and a walk on the beach. No big deal.”

  “Hey, it’s none of my business. Tucker and I were over a long time ago. I barely remember what he was like in bed.”

  Bodie chuckled. “I’m not sure how to respond to that.”

  “It’s a small town. Women talk. Well, men do too, for that matter. But where sex is concerned, women usually don’t hold anything back. My advice is to don’t let him get started babbling on about the store or his dad. Otherwise, you’ll be bored silly in less than ten minutes flat. That’s usually all it took for me.”

  An uncomfortable topic, Bodie decided. “Need help with loading?”

  “Nah, I got it. I’m used to this. I have arranged this stuff so that it fits down to an art form. And Zach’s waiting back at the shop to help me unload.”

  “I’ll leave you to it then. Have a great time in Bora Bora.”

  “Thanks, I plan to do just that. And you have fun with Tucker…while it lasts.”

  Bodie watched Drea’s van pull out of the lot.

  Left wondering why the florist would say such a thing, Bodie helped other customers with their problems, answering their questions about buying fertilizer or using root hormone to kickstart propagation.

  She did her best to ignore Drea’s words. But what it boiled down to was realizing that, although the two might have been in a relationship, Drea and Tucker had little in common. Even she recognized that fact. From an outsider’s standpoint, it jumped out at Bodie. She didn’t mind Tucker talking about his job or his issues with his father. She liked listening to the guy talk. Wasn’t that a big part of a relationship? If he didn’t communicate what was on his mind, how else would she get to know the real Tucker?

  She considered that one of the major problems with Alex. The guy never communicated anything at all, leaving her to guess what he was thinking.

  For the rest of the afternoon, she debated the issue and found herself looking forward to having dinner with Tucker. She genuinely liked the guy and had to admit she even liked his voice. And yes, she liked hearing him talk. But at the top of the list, she liked the way he kissed most of all. Attraction. Which meant, maybe she’d decide for herself how bad…or how good…he was in bed.

  Determined to have a nice evening, Tucker grabbed Bodie’s plant and locked up the store at five o’clock on the dot.

  He headed to Murphy’s Market, where he bought a steak for himself and assorted vegetables to put on the grill for the vegan, a six-pack of his favorite beer, and a bottle of merlot he’d tried last Christmas and liked.

  After answering a few nosy questions at checkout about who he was entertaining on a Sunday night, he headed to his pickup.

  He lived in the house where he’d grown up, a home started in 1940 the year before the country had gone to war and finished the week before Thanksgiving 1941. His grandparents had been the original occupants of the first four rooms before eventually adding on to it through the years, a bedroom here, an extension to the kitchen there, and then a bathroom or two when indoor plumbing became the rage.

  The cul-de-sac called San Pedro Circle backed up to a rolling, wooded hillside where black walnut and almond trees thrived side by side, producing a canopy of shade in summer. Tucker could still remember the entire family gathering out there for picnics, drinking lemonade his grandmother had made from scratch. He could remember laughter and children playing hide and seek. But that had been before his family had fallen apart, fractured into two sides where one party grieved the loss of a daughter, his sister, and the other side locked themselves away, refusing to talk about it. His dad had retreated into work or to his study after the evening meal. His mother would watch TV in her bedroom. Many nights he was convinced the two never even said a word to one another, let alone bring up the shared tragedy, never talking about the child they’d lost.

  As far as he knew, his parents had never spoken a word as a couple about the day his younger sister Tessie had drowned in the creek behind the house, the day the happy family became virtual strangers, like ghosts living under the same roof. Or maybe they chose to exist apart from one another in stoic stubbornness. Either way, the silence had been deafening.

  Tucker swung his truck into the garage and shook off the melancholy. It wouldn’t do to invite a woman for dinner and then pull out the moody, broody history of the Ferguson family.

  As soon as he walked inside the house, arms full of plant and groceries, Lago, his Goldendoodle, greeted him with a robust, tail-wagging thump and bump. The dog jumped for a kiss that knocked him back a step.

  “You can’t do that when Bodie gets here,” Tucker cautioned the dog. “I know you missed me, but you have to settle down, be on your best behavior tonight—no jumping or bouncing off the walls. We need to make a good impression. No, a great impression. I really like this one.”

  In the kitchen, he slid the bags onto the counter and turned his full attention to the pooch, wrapping Lago up in a hug. “I’m glad to see you, too. Plus, I brought you a present. But you need to be good.”

  For assurance, Lago licked Tucker in the face.

  “I hope she likes dogs,” Tucker said in reply. “That’s all we need is a cat lover.”

  Lago woofed in agreement.

  “Yeah, I get it. Let’s just hope she hasn’t changed her mind.” He pulled out his cell phone to text Bodie to make sure they were still on for dinner—and smiled when he got a response almost immediately. She’d even used exclamation points for emphasis and a smiley face to underscore how much she looked forward to the evening.

  “There. You see. Things are looking up already,” Tucker said as he went to throw open the French doors that led to the patio. He watched as Lago darted off into the trees. “Yeah. You do that. Run off some of that excess puppy energy while I take a shower. I want you nice and calm for Bodie’s first visit.”

  Four

  Following Tucker’s directions, Bodie swung her Mazda onto a street in the shape of a U. She pulled into a driveway that circled in front of a bubbling fountain. She cut the engine and looked over at the one-story ranch house. It sat on a huge lot in the middle of the block. It had wood clapboard siding the color of fresh lemons with soft creamy trim. To her left was a swing-in garage. Studying the unusual layout, on the right side was probably the living room, but until she got a look on the inside, that was merely a guess.

  In the middle section was a long veranda that ran the length of the house. It was the common ground that connected the two sides. Somehow the turquoise double doors managed to give off a welcoming, beachy vibe. What should have been an unremarkable rambler built in three distinct stages pulled together a weathered shingle-style design that worked.

  Whoever had constructed the original floor plan probably hadn’t thought about curb appeal, but at some point during the last few years someone had tried to coordinate a theme.

  Probably Tucker, she decided as headed for the door.

  She’d taken the time to change out of her grubby jeans and slipped into a soft, pale green paisley-patterned dress that hit just above the knee. The A-line fit skimmed over her waist and flowed over her hips. Showing off bare legs, she wore bohemian sandals with little mint green daisies across the feet.

  Feeling good about the way she looked, Bodie rang th
e bell. When the door opened, a large ball of fur leaped into her arms.

  “Oh,” was all she could manage before the blur of fur knocked her back a step.

  “Lago, get down!” Tucker shouted. “We talked about this.”

  He reached for Lago’s collar and turned to Bodie. “I’m sorry. He doesn’t know he’s not the size of a chihuahua.”

  Bodie grinned and looked down at the adorable pup. “How old is he? He looks like he’s still a baby.”

  “He is, I guess. Ten months last week. One of Cord and Keegan’s rescues, they like to pawn off on the unsuspecting. But I love this guy. He makes coming home after a long day worth it. Come on in. We’re back here in the kitchen. I hope I picked up enough vegetables that you’ll eat.”

  “You’re going out of your way to cook me dinner. Trust me, I’ll pretty much eat whatever you fix.” She paused to take in what she’d always considered the heart of any home. The kitchen was a throwback to French rustic with a country feel. Papered in cheery yellow and blue flowers, the walls were like a botanical garden. The cabinets were creamy white with glass doors. She drooled over the farmhouse sink, ran her hand over the gray concrete countertops.

  Lost in admiring the décor, she finally spotted the plant, front and center, sitting in the middle of the pine table like a centerpiece. “Where did this come from?”

  “Where do you think? I had to endure Shiloh’s flirtatious advances to get it for you.”

  “It’s mine?” She moved closer to the plant, caressing each leaf. “That’s incredibly sweet. Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

  She angled toward him, slid an arm around his waist. “But I’m glad you did.”

  “Luckily, I got there before they sold out.”

  “It’s a lucky day all around. Shelby tore up my IOU.” She realized then how fixated he was on making sure he pulled off dinner. “I’m okay with whatever you serve,” she repeated.