“What are we going to do?” Becky asked, looking around the shop. Glass shards were thick all over the floor, the wooden support beams for the window were splintered, and of course there was the matter of the car in the bakery. The table and chairs were structurally all right, being iron, but the cushions were scratched up from the shards, and the glass tabletop was a goner.
“We’re going to wait and see what the insurance says,” Quinn replied. “And of course, we’re closed for business for the time being.”
Jonah strode in a moment later, blue tarps in one arm and food bags in the other. “Sorry that took me so long,” he said. “One of my guys discovered some electrical problems at the gallery, and we had to come up with a game plan so the place wouldn’t burn down. But here are the tarps. Were you able to get hold of the insurance company?”
“Yes. They asked us to leave everything as is until they get here in about two hours.”
“Okay.” He plopped the tarps down in the corner, then turned back with the food bags. “Ran into Alex outside and told him about the wiring. He asked me to bring this in to you while he heads down to the gallery to crunch some numbers with Bryce.” He set the bags on the table and fished Quinn’s Visa out of his pocket.
“I’m starting to wonder if Bryce really exists,” Quinn said. “I keep hearing about him, but I haven’t actually seen him.”
Jonah chuckled. “He is the quieter of the two.”
Quinn pulled the food out of the bags and offered some to Becky and Jonah. He declined, but Becky nearly pounced on the BLT. A few bites of the fish fillet sandwich had Quinn thinking a lot more clearly.
“Thanks for getting the tarps, Jonah. I really appreciate it.”
“Not a problem.” He walked over to the window and started examining it, looking up at the ceiling above it and the walls on either side. “Listen, Quinn, give the insurance adjuster my number. I can fix this in a day, and I’ll give the best price out of anyone—materials only.”
“I don’t know,” Quinn protested. “You’ve got to be paid for your labor.”
Jonah held up his hands. “This wall wasn’t built well to begin with, even before a car drove through it. I’d sleep better knowing that the repair was top notch, and the only way I can be sure of that is to do it myself.”
“That’s really great of you. Thanks.”
He grinned at her, and for a second, all the awkwardness vanished. She grinned back, almost forgetting about the sandwich she was holding.
“I’d better get back to the gallery and fix that problem with the wiring,” he said, breaking the spell. “I’ll come back and meet the insurance adjuster, if you’d like me to. Just let me know.”
Quinn blinked a couple of times as she returned to reality. “Um, sure. Yeah, that would be great. And I guess we need to postpone your makeup class.”
Jonah looked around with a rueful expression. “For now. I’m holding you to it, though. See ya, Becky.”
As the door closed after him, Becky turned to Quinn, her eyes wide. “What was that all about?”
“Hmm?” Quinn concentrated on taking another bite of her sandwich.
“You. Him. The electricity zinging around in here. And I’m not talking about the wiring at the gallery.”
Quinn almost choked as she swallowed. “Electricity? There was no electricity. You’re imagining things. He’s just going to fix the window.”
Becky nodded. “Yeah, and Dumbo was just an elephant.”
“What?”
“Never mind. The point is, there’s something going on there.”
Quinn shook her head. “There’s nothing going on. He’s just a guy who likes to pick fights, and for some reason, I keep fighting back.”
Becky snorted. “And you don’t think that’s electricity? Come on, Quinn—banter is one of the hallmarks of a great couple. Think about Beatrice and Benedick.”
“I’m not living in a Shakespeare play.”
“That’s probably a good thing or we’d be having lots of sword fights right now.” Becky stood up and gathered their wrappers. “We need to get this place ready to shut down, right?”
“Right.” Quinn stood up as well. “I’ll count out the till. Can you shut down all the ovens and see what’s in the fridge that won’t stay good for a couple of days, and we’d better check the orders and see if there’s anything we’ll need to cancel.” She hoped there wasn’t anything major—all this work she was doing trying to help out the shop, holding decorating class and everything, would be wasted if she had to cancel something important. “Oh, and did you call your mom?”
“Yeah, I did that while you were calling the insurance. So she knows where I am and that I’m okay.”
“Great.”
Quinn had just finished counting out the till and putting the money in the safe when the insurance adjuster showed up. He was a regular-looking guy in a button-down collar and jeans, a camera and clipboard in hand.
“Wow,” he said by way of greeting. “That’s some mess.”
“Isn’t it, though?” Quinn stepped around the counter and shook his hand.
It didn’t take long for the paperwork to get filled out. Thankfully, the same company handled the policies on both the bakery and the car, and what one policy wouldn’t cover, the other would. Quinn tried to hide her relief, but she was so giddy with it, she knew it showed.
And what made things even better was that the adjuster approved Jonah to do the work. Thank goodness—it would only be one day after they got the check until they could reopen, if he was able to get to work as quickly as he’d said.
“Thank you so much,” Quinn said. “You have no idea how easy you’ve made everything.”
“I have to say, it was a very smart move on the D’Angelos’ part to include you in their policy,” he said, putting the papers back into his folder. “Otherwise, I would have had to go down to the hospital to finalize everything.”
“Well, at first I didn’t see the point, but now I do,” Quinn replied. “I’m glad I let Maggie talk me into it.” She stood when he did and motioned toward the display case. “I’ll have to discard these pastries—would you like to take some home? Maybe a box for the office?”
“Wow, they look great. Are you sure?”
“Of course.” Quinn let him choose out whatever he wanted and boxed everything up. She also made sure that he knew where the photography studio was so he could pick up the pictures Tyler had taken. Then after he left, she sagged dramatically against the counter. “Becky, can we be done?”
Becky came out from the kitchen, trying to balance two trays. “Almost. You need Jonah to come back and cover up that window.”
“I forgot all about that. What are you doing?” She grabbed one of the trays just as it slipped.
“Trying to get all the perishable food gathered up, like you said. These cookies won’t hold up in the fridge or freezer.”
“Then we’ll get rid of them too. Start putting stuff in boxes, and I’ll drop by the soup kitchen on my way home tonight.”
“That’s a great idea.”
Becky packed up dozens of pastries while Quinn called Jonah. He promised he’d be down within the hour with some plywood and other materials to cover up the hole.
With the insurance adjuster gone and all the photographs taken, Quinn could now focus on cleaning up the mess. She grabbed a broom and dustpan, amazed at how many tiny little shards one window could create. While she worked, tears kept threatening to come to the surface, but she blinked them back, not wanting to give in to the emotion. She just couldn’t stop thinking about Mr. D, that cut on his forehead, the worry in Maggie’s eyes. This was more than just a car through a window. This was the thing they’d been dreading, that moment when they knew just how bad Mr. D really was. They’d been trying to fool themselves, but now the evidence was right in front of them, in millions of tiny pieces all over the floor.
* * *
Quinn had sent Becky home by the time Jonah showed up. She
didn’t have anything else for the girl to do now that everything was shut off and packaged up, and while she would have liked the company, she figured Becky probably had other things she’d rather be doing. Quinn sat at the remaining table, sipping a mug of coffee, when Jonah came in.
“Hey,” she said. “Want some coffee?”
“I’m good.” He looked around. “I see you’ve been working on the glass.”
“Most of it. I’m afraid it’s going to take weeks of sweeping to get all of it.”
“I have an industrial vac that’ll come in handy. I think the first step is to get the car out of here, don’t you?”
Quinn felt a blush warm her cheeks. “I was going to move it, but I didn’t know if I really should.”
“The insurance dude gave you clearance to make the repairs, right? We don’t need to leave the car there for any reason.”
“It’s just . . .” Quinn didn’t know how to explain it. “It’s Mr. D’s car. And he was sitting in it.”
She could see that even though her attempt at explanation was clumsy at best, Jonah got what she was saying. “Is it all right with you if I move it?”
“Yes, please. The tow truck’s coming first thing in the morning to haul it off for its own repairs.” She grabbed the keys and tossed them to Jonah, who caught them with a flick of his wrist and opened the driver’s side door.
“Can I just park it out front?”
“That’s great.”
She watched as Jonah eased the Cadillac back out through the window. He had to gun it and rock it a bit to get it over the bottom of the remaining window frame, and that made her cringe—more crashing and smashing before they could even fix the original problem. Then he parked it where it had been before this whole mess started. She could now see the damage that had been done to it—as the glass shards fell off the front, they revealed dents and scratches all over the nose of the car, which had caved in a bit as well. Thank goodness the engine still worked so they could get it out of the bakery—otherwise, it would have to sit there all night until the tow truck came.
Jonah locked the car, came inside, and handed her the keys. He then got busy with his table saw, plywood, staple gun, and all kinds of tools she didn’t even recognize. As he worked, Quinn couldn’t help but notice that she felt so much better about things since he’d shown up. He knew what he was doing, and he exuded an aura of “I’ve got this.”
During one of the quieter moments when he was measuring and not using the saw or stapling, Quinn told him, “The adjuster says he’ll get the check to me right away, and then you can start work on the repairs.”
“Why do I have to wait until you have the check?”
Quinn blinked. “You don’t have to. I just figured that you’d want to.”
He turned and rested one hand on his hip. “I said I’d have this fixed in a day, and I meant it. This plywood will hold everything secure for tonight, I have a buddy in Denver who’s going to sell me new glass first thing in the morning, and Alex already knows I’m not coming in tomorrow. I’ll be here at ten, and you’ll be ready to reopen the next day. Is that a problem?”
“Um, no.” She was absolutely floored. “But what about the wiring at the gallery?”
He waved her off. “I’ve already done my part, and my guys will finish up. If they need me, I’m right up the street. Honestly, Quinn, this is all under control. Just go with it.”
“Okay,” she said, overwhelmed and grateful at how quickly things were coming together. “But there’s just one thing.”
“And that is?” he asked, clearly exasperated.
“We can’t reopen the day after tomorrow.”
“And why on earth not?”
“Because it’s Sunday, and we’re not open on Sunday.”
He shook his head, a rueful smile on his face. “Okay, so you’ll reopen on Monday.” He took one more quick measurement and walked back over to the table saw. Quinn wondered how much of the cleanup would be glass and how much would be sawdust by the time they were through.
Chapter Five
Quinn’s alarm didn’t wake her the next morning. When the sun peeked in through her bedroom window, she sat upright in bed, her heart pounding. She was late for work. But then realization hit. Jonah was meeting her at the bakery at ten, and she didn’t have to get up yet. She could sleep in even longer.
She flopped backwards on her pillow and pulled her comforter up to her chin, determined to get another hour’s sleep, but then her brain started racing. Stupid brain—it didn’t know how to sleep in. She’d spoken with Maggie briefly the night before and learned that they planned to keep Mr. D at the hospital until Sunday morning just to be sure he was all right. He’d hit his head on the steering wheel and gotten a slight concussion. He was rattled, but didn’t seem to have any other injuries. Maggie sounded relieved that they wanted to observe him for an additional night—maybe they’d be able to give her some advice for his day-to-day care.
Quinn’s orders were all squared away—because Jonah would be working so quickly, she hadn’t needed to cancel anything. That was just one relief on top of many, many others. Seriously, if someone had to crash a car through the window of the shop, this was the best possible outcome for it.
After another fruitless ten minutes of trying to go back to sleep, Quinn got up, took a long, hot shower, and decided to treat herself out to breakfast. These were things she rarely got to do because her life was in such chaos in the mornings. She chuckled as she walked out the front door—she was actually leaving the house with dry hair.
“Hey,” Sloane greeted her when she got to the diner. “Fancy seeing you here at this time of day.”
“Yeah, it is pretty weird.” Quinn tossed her purse into the booth and sat down. “I’ve got a whole hour before I have to be anywhere.”
“I saw all the boards in your window as I drove in this morning. How’s Mr. D?”
“He’s okay. They’re observing him because of a concussion, but he can come home tomorrow.”
“Thank goodness for that. Now, what I can get you?”
Quinn went all out—bacon and eggs, pancakes, hash browns. She watched Main Street come to life through the front windows of the diner, the traffic slowly begin to increase, signs being flipped to “open,” the first customers of the day parking and going inside. This was something she missed every day—she was always in the back of the kitchen, mixing up dough, taking cookies out of the oven. She felt like she was seeing the town for the first time.
“Can I get you anything else?”
Quinn startled. She hadn’t heard Sloane approach in her rubber-soled shoes. “I’m great. Thanks so much—this hit the spot.”
“You’re welcome. Come back again sometime if you can—not that I’m wishing you another car through the window.” Sloane winked as she handed Quinn her receipt.
Jonah was already at the bakery when Quinn got there, leaning against his truck. “Am I late?” she asked.
“Nope. I’m early. Traffic was really light.” He lowered the tailgate and lifted out another sawhorse and crate of tools, setting them on the sidewalk. “You did a great job of cleaning up the glass out here.”
“That actually wasn’t me. I came out to do it, but Millie and Laurie from across the street were already hard at work.”
Jonah nodded, glancing up and down Main Street. “This is a great community.”
“It really is. I can’t imagine living anywhere else. Which should answer the question you once asked me about why a snobby chef like me was stuck in a little town like this.”
“Hey, that’s not what I said,” Jonah protested. “And I thought you accepted my apology.”
She flashed him a big grin. “I’m just teasing. Come on—we’ve got stuff to do.”
Jonah got to work measuring and cutting, and Quinn decided this was the perfect opportunity to catch up on some things that had been overlooked. She pulled out the account book and prepared the monthly statements for their regular clients
. Then she carried the stack of envelopes to the front.
“I’ll be right back,” she said. “Just going to mail these.”
Jonah waved a hand in recognition as she stepped out.
She handed Millicent’s Bridal directly to the receptionist—no need to mail it when they were right across the street—and tucked the remainder of the stack into the postal box on the curb. Then she came back inside and realized she really had nothing else to do until it was time to clean up. There was no point in puttering around in the kitchen—anything she made would have to be given away or discarded—so she pulled up a chair and watched Jonah work.
He already had the new supports put in, and now he was framing the edges. His movements were swift and sure, and every piece of wood fit perfectly. The noise of the saw was irritating at first, but she soon got used to it.
“I’m sorry for doing the cutting in here,” he said as he nailed in the next piece. “I was going to set the saw up outside, but I couldn’t take the risk of a child deciding to try it out while I was in here hammering.”
“No, I understand,” she said. “We’ll just clean up the sawdust.”
“I’ll just clean up the sawdust,” he replied. “I’m making the mess—I’ll take care of it.”
“How about if we both clean up the sawdust?”
He gave an exaggerated eye roll. “Fine. We’ll both do it.”
She watched him for another few minutes. The frame was now in, and he pulled out the sander. That thing was even louder than the saw. She tried not to cringe, but couldn’t help it.
“Sorry,” he said again. “One of the hazards of the job.”
“So, how did you get into construction?” she asked as he prepared to paint the frame.
“It runs in the family. My dad and uncle owned a construction company while I was in high school, and I worked for them every summer and on the weekends. It gave me some spending money and kept me out of trouble. Mostly.” He threw a wink at her. “When my uncle passed away, my dad made me a full partner, but then about two years later, he decided to retire. He sold the whole lot to me, and here I am.”
Just Desserts (Main Street Merchants Book 4) Page 6
