Before Heather could say another word, Mabel had turned and scurried toward the kitchen.
Heather cast her gaze on Jake. “I have never, ever in my life known the General to come into Mabel’s and order anything besides her fried chicken with french fries and a side of creamed corn. The artery clogging special.”
“Maybe it doesn’t mean anything?” Jake’s gaze skipped over to the General and back.
“Right,” Heather tsked. “And my cousins and I are not the product of three wanna-be hippie sisters who named all of their daughters after flowers. “
“Well, the flower part may be true, but I’m not sure about your grandfather. I mean, Louise Franklin has been working at the pharmacy for as long as I can remember and that woman has never been able to keep a secret.”
“And your point?”
“If your grandfather were seriously ill, though she can’t come right out and say so, you’d better believe she would be fawning and fussing over your grandmother, organizing church pot luck suppers and who knows what else to,” he made a pair of air quotes, “help.”
“I don’t know.” She took a sip of the water Mabel had set on the table.
A twinkle in his eyes, he cocked his head at her. “Have you really forgotten how small towns work?”
Had she? The last time she’d spent any length of time at the lake she was a boring senior in high school. A far cry from the little girl who sat on her grandfather’s lap playing checkers. She sat back in her seat, took in Jake’s charming grin, the twinkle in his eye that reminded her of a man walking down memory lane, and smiled herself. “You got caught.”
He had the decency to blush. “Often.”
“And to think last night my sisters were squeezing me for gossip. Do tell.”
“Nothing that interesting. Kid stuff.” He shrugged. “It was a long time ago.”
Heather shook her head. “No sir. Copouts unacceptable. Shall I guess?”
“Go for it.” Jake folded strong arms across his chest.
The man had to work out for arms like that.
“Heather?”
“Oh sorry.” She studied him a moment pulling her mind away from how the guy would look great on the cover of a novel wearing a buttoned down tux with a tie hanging loosely around his neck. “At least one story has to involve Mrs. Franklin.”
Jake gave her a lazy one shoulder shrug.
“Definitely Mrs. Franklin. She caught you with a girl.”
The tips of his ears singed slightly and she knew she was on the right track. Without her saying a word, the rosy tone was covering his ears and working its way down his cheeks.
“Oh my. She caught you in the act, so to speak.”
Jake twirled the straw wrapper in his fingers.
“Someone I know?” This was getting interesting.
Shaking his head, Jake leaned back. “Sorry. A summer tourist.”
Momentarily deflated at guessing wrong, Heather perked up. “But I was right about everything else.”
“Almost everything else. I was as close to a homerun as I’d ever come when Mrs. Franklin decided a pre-dawn stroll by the point was the perfect cure for insomnia.”
“Our Point?” She had to blink to keep her eyes from popping.
“Nah. The General was in country then. The abandoned point by the old marina. My mother never let me live that down.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah, but it was worse when I borrowed my dad’s car to make a beer run across the lake.”
“Dare I ask how old you were?”
Jake shook his head. “You probably don’t want to hear about skinny dipping with your cousin Lily?”
This time her eyes really burst open wide. “You went skinny dipping with Lily?”
“Not exactly with. She coaxed the football team into it and somehow she managed to be the only one not in the water and I wound up her accomplice in hiding their clothes. To this day I’m still not sure how we were found out.”
“But you were?”
“For the next six months, every time my mom walked away from me she always shook her head.”
“And your dad?”
“I think he thought most of it, except for the incident with the townie, was funny and managed to put on a good front with Mom.”
They went silent as Mabel came by and set their food on the table.
“What about my grandfather’s lunch?” Heather asked
Mabel pointed across the way. “He’s eating with Pete Stephens. Anything else?”
Heather and Jake shook their heads.
“So what about you?” Jake lifted a french fry. “Any youthful indiscretions?”
Stabbing at her salad, Heather shook her head. “Not a single indiscretion, youthful or otherwise.”
“Nose in a book.”
“Excuse me?”
“You always had your nose in a book.”
“I had a goal. From the time I was rather young I knew I wanted to be a doctor. By the time I hit junior high I understood how much work it would take to get there.”
“A girl with a plan.”
“A meticulous plan. Followed it every step of the way. Right up to working as a fellow and now along side the best chief of cardiothoracic surgery in the country in one of the most prestigious hospitals on the Eastern seaboard.”
“And you love every minute of it. It’s written all over your face.”
“I love my work. More than anything.” She glanced across the restaurant. Her concern for her grandfather gurgled to the surface. The truth was as much as she loved what she did, she’d give it up in a heartbeat for the people who meant the most to her. She just hoped that day never came.
Chapter Five
“Jake, what a pleasant surprise.” Sadie Norton opened the front door. “Are you here to check the sink?”
“Actually,” he glanced over her shoulder and hoped little white lies weren’t going to count in the after-life, “I’ve got these leftover pieces of siding that I can’t sell.” Mostly because he’d sawed them in half before leaving the shop. “Noticed you have a few rotten boards and if you wouldn’t mind, it would help me make room for new product if I could just give them to you.”
The way her brows formed the perfect scowl, he was pretty sure she was either about to call him out for the liar he was, or debating if she could manage to hammer the things up herself. “I want to help, but—”
“Great. I brought my tool box. If you’ll give me about an hour, I’ll have the old boards down and the new ones in place.” He took a step back and hurried away before she could object.
What he hadn’t counted on was her scurrying after him. “Now just a minute. You said leave here, you didn’t say a word about installation.”
Jake came to a screeching halt. Thinking fast, he looked down to his feet before slowly lifting his chin and smiling at the woman. “You caught me.”
“Caught you?” Her brows unbuckled and lifted high with curiosity.
“I was hoping I could keep some of the bad wood for kindling.”
“Oh.” She took a step back, her expression brightening. “Well, I suppose that would be a fair exchange. But you’ll have to let me sweeten the deal.”
“Yes, ma’am.” What was one more frozen beef stew dinner?
“It’ll take me more than an hour, but I was just about to bake some of my apple pies for the church bazaar. I’ll see to it you get one free of charge. Folks fight over my apple pies. Best in the county. Always take the prize at the fair.”
“Yes ma’am.” He smiled. Mission accomplished.
He’d barely lifted the first boards out of his truck when he recognized the two door coupe with Massachusetts plates pulling up to the curb.
“I thought that was you.” Heather slid out of her car, easing her sunglasses away from her face and smiling up at him. Even though he’d left her trying to corral her grandfather little more than an hour ago, her bright grin hit him with the same force as a sucker punch from a g
iant. So far in the last twenty-four hours he’d seen her in varying stages of dress, undress, and social repartee. What he hadn’t seen until now was a deep down grin with a halo of sunlight bouncing off her blonde hair.
When she’d come into the shop looking for her grandfather earlier this morning, she’d had her hair neatly pinned back like a turn of the century—the last century—schoolmarm. Now she’d let it loose to cascade around her shoulders and he had to make every effort not to swallow his tongue. He was never going to get to sleep tonight.
“Gave up on my grandfather and was heading back to the house.” Waving a thumb over her shoulder in the general direction up the road, she took a step forward. “Thought for sure you’d beat me there.”
He resisted the urge—for his own good—to take a step back. “Had to make this one stop first.”
Her gaze shifted from him to the boards he’d set down on the bed of his truck over to the house. “A man of many talents.”
If there had been any saliva left in his mouth he would have swallowed hard; as it was the best he could manage was a nod.
“Need any help?”
Okay, not what he’d expected to hear. “You do carpentry?”
She chuckled and the throaty rumble brought a smile to his face. “Not exactly.”
“What does exactly mean?”
“I know what a hammer is.” She flashed a toothy grin. “Does that help?”
This time he chuckled loudly. “I suppose you could be the hardware equivalent of a surgical nurse.”
“See.” She peeled her glasses from atop her head and slid them into a back pocket. “Where do we start? I’m all yours. ”
Oh. So not the thing to have said. He’d just regained the ability to think and speak and she tossed a line like that at him. Talk about lethal weapons. Sucking in a deep breath and blowing it out slow enough to gather his wits, but not so slowly that she’d notice, he pointed to the tool box. “Know what a crow bar is?”
She glanced in the same direction and nodded.
“Good.” He lifted the boards from the bed again. “Grab it and follow me.”
As he ripped the old boards off the house, Heather retrieved the larger chunks and carried them over to the truck. His extra pair of work gloves slid off her delicate hands from time to time. The last thing he needed was for her to injure herself. He was no idiot. Like a concert pianist, a good surgeon’s hands could be magic.
“Well, my my. Is that you, Heather Preston?” Mrs. Norton came hurrying out the door. “I saw you working from my kitchen window. Thought you looked familiar and then it hit me. How are you?”
The woman had pulled her into such a tight hug that Jake actually thought he heard the air woosh from her lungs.
“Fine,” she muttered, “and yourself?”
“Oh, well, you know.” The older woman who Jake guessed was at least eighty if she was a day, inched back. “One day at a time.” The momentary look of melancholy slid away, replaced by a smile. “I’d better get my two workers a refreshing cup of lemonade.”
Before either of them could respond, the woman had hurried off, flung open the screen door, and marched herself inside.
“A woman with a mission,” Heather muttered.
“I think she misses having someone to fuss over.”
Heather nodded. “I vaguely remember hearing Grams mention Mr. Norton passing not long ago, but I hadn’t given it much thought. She doesn’t have a lot of family around here.”
Jake shook his head. There were plenty of old folks like that in town. Grown kids moved to the bigger cities, or out of state, and no one besides the church ladies to keep an eye on them. It was one of the reasons he’d stepped up to help. He’d lost his dad’s parents years ago while he was still deployed, but his mom’s parents lived in Virginia where his grandmother had put down roots once his mom was old enough to start school. He’d like to think if they needed help, someone closer to home would step up. In his own way, doing for the seniors in Lawford was like doing for his grandparents.
Together, he and Heather fell into an easy working rhythm, she mostly watching at the ready with a nail or other needed tool. The conversation was light, the smiles frequent.
As a teen, Heather had spent so much time in her books, he’d never gotten a real feel for her. He knew she was serious about wanting to be a doctor, but he hadn’t had a clue what had motivated her to work so hard. “When did you first know you wanted to be a doctor?”
“I was nine.” Heather bent to pick up another few screws and handed them to him. “Everything about my mother was so very perfect. I never remember her with a single hair out of place. Ever. Her wardrobe was always crisp and pristine and perfect down to the last thread. Dad’s work involved an awful lot of dinner parties.”
Jake leaned back and waited for the reels in his mind to play out. “Was your dad the one with the vineyard or the banker?”
“Banker. Aunt Marissa married the winemaker.”
He turned back to the siding. “Makes sense. In a world like that the concept of the hostess with the mostest still applies.”
“Definitely. Mom’s table settings could’ve been photographed for Emily Post. I doubt the Queen of England has more silverware than Mom.”
Jake chuckled. Never had he considered the Queen’s silver, and now he had visions of forks and spoons dancing in a massive ballroom like a scene from an animated movie.
“Memories of that night are as clear as a high definition program. Even now, knowing all that I know, I can still feel the fright.”
He paused his hammer, waiting for what came next.
“I wasn’t supposed to be out of bed, so I stayed very quiet. Maybe I already had good instincts at nine, but I noticed one of the guests right away. Something about him seemed off. Of course, now I realize he was sweating profusely. Kept wiping his forehead with his handkerchief. Every so often he’d cough into the same handkerchief and between those symptoms he repeatedly flexed the fingers on his left hand. It actually amazes me now that of all the people at the party not a single one noticed he was in distress.”
“Heart attack?”
She nodded.
“No wonder your grandfather coughing has you so alarmed.”
Mid extension to hand him another nail, Heather froze. Was that it? A lot of years and life had passed since her parents’ friend had had the massive heart attack in her living room with no one in the room knowing how to save him. Guests were screaming and rushing about. Her very calm and together mother became frantic, screaming into the telephone for help. Her father shouted orders, seeking out anyone with some knowledge of CPR, finally hurrying to their neighbor’s.
She’d been watching a man die and didn’t like it. She didn’t think about it often, but it had to be in the back of her mind. Maybe Jake was right. Maybe that’s why hearing the General coughing, combined with his age, had caused an irrational sense of panic that had brought her tearing to the lake.
“I don’t know,” she answered softly. “I do know when our neighbor Dr. Crosby came rushing over the entire mood in the room shifted. She knew exactly what to do. The orders she spouted made a difference. She showed Dad how to do compressions. Blew air into the stricken man’s lungs. Used her bag of tricks and training to keep him alive until the EMTs arrived. “
“And that’s when you knew.” Jake stepped down off the ladder.
She nodded.
“I’d never heard that story before.”
Probably because she’d never told anyone else that she’d been hiding at the top of the stairs watching the entire scenario unfold. Not even her sisters. So what was it about this man that had her so easily sharing her only true secret?
***
“And what has you so befuddled?” Grams sat in one of the many large rockers that graced the massive porch. Dressed in a pair of flared pants the woman had probably owned since before Heather was born, along with a bright patchwork quilt top that bore more resemblance to a blanket than
a blouse, her grandmother looked up from the clacking needles.
“Life.” She lifted her chin, pointing at the yarn in Gram’s lap. “Whatcha making?”
“It started out as a scarf for your grandfather,” she held up the unbalanced swatch, “but somehow it got away from me, so now it’s going to be a baby blanket for the church bazaar.”
For as long as Heather could remember, her grandmother looked like she’d be more at home in an artist colony in New Mexico than at a lakeside cottage in New England, and absolutely nothing gave any inkling that she’d once been one of the Lawfords. As in Lawford Mountain and Lawford Granite Quarry. “I’m sure it’s going to be as beautiful as you are.”
Grams blushed, shook her head, and tsked at her eldest granddaughter. “Flattery will get you everywhere. What would you like?”
Without any thought, Heather sprang forward and pulled her grandmother into a tight embrace.
“Well, now.” The aging woman soothed her granddaughter’s back with steady strokes. “Usually Poppy is the sentimental one. Or your sister Violet when she’s not in a trance.”
Heather chuckled and pulled away. “I think you mean meditating.”
“If you say so, dear.” The woman shrugged and returned to the project in her lap.
Lucy the housekeeper and cook, more family than employee and the town’s self-appointed matchmaker, came out humming “Hello Dolly” from one of her favorite musicals and carrying a small tray with two glasses of lemonade. “Thought you might like to join Ms. Fiona for a little refreshment.”
To her right, her grandmother already had a full glass on the small table beside her. “I must look thirsty.”
Lucy let out a belly laugh that could make a grouch smile. “That’s for Jake. He just came through the back door and is upstairs working on the shower plumbing.”
“Oh.” She tried not to let her glance lift to the second floor, but she realized what she was doing too late. If she didn’t watch her step, Lucy would have them volunteering side by side on some committee or worse, like she’d tried a few years ago with Ralph’s granddaughter and the then new banker in town, and “accidentally” lock them in the storage shed.
Heather Page 5
