Driftwood Lane (Nantucket #4)(30)

Sixteen

Meridith pedaled the bike down the lane. Her shallow breaths drew in salt-laden sea air. She was glad it was Friday. The kids would be home all weekend, and she could try some of the books’ suggestions for coping with grief. She’d read on the beach all morning, had lunch at the Even Keel Café, but now it was time for the kids to return from school.

Even though Jake’s demeanor had relaxed as the week waned, there was still a stiltedness to their conversation. He was all business now.

And that’s just the way I want it. Meridith turned onto Driftwood Lane. Leaves were coming in on the trees, hiding the skeletal branches. A carpet of purple crocuses bloomed at the base of a mailbox. In the next yard, a line of daffodils edged the drive. Not yet blooming, their pale buds stretched over tongues of green leaves. Spring was underway, and she was ready. Ready for more time outdoors, ready for sunshine and golf. Ready for school’s end when she could return to her home, to Stephen.

With her three siblings in tow. She envisioned Stephen meeting the crew at the airport.

Hi, honey, here we are, your ready-made family of five.

She tried to picture his reaction and failed.

Well, of course she couldn’t. She hadn’t told the man yet.

When she reached Summer Place, she turned into the drive, skirting Piper and Jake’s dirty truck, then pulled into the garage beside the Galaxie. According to Mr. Thomas, the old car had been willed to the kids’ uncle, along with T. J.’s tools. She was sure he’d be delighted, if he ever called.

She set the kickstand, entered the house through the front door, and checked the voice mail. No customers, but Max’s teacher asked her to call back.

A scraping sound across the room startled her. Jake emerged from the fireplace grate. Soot covered his hands and streaked his cheek.

“Want to come look?”

Her mind still on the message from the teacher, she approached the fireplace. Jake made room on the hearth.

“See these cracks? Crumbling mortar, loose stone. Feel this.” He reached for a river rock, and she touched it.

He placed his hand over hers and wobbled the rock, but she barely felt the movement for the jolt that went through her at his touch.

She jerked her hand away.

His eyes scanned her face, which grew warmer by the second.

She studied the blackened rocks as if mesmerized by them. “So the, uh, loosened rocks caused it to smoke?” Was that her squeaky voice?

“Right.”

She still felt his touch on her hand, though it was now cradled safely in her lap. She ran her other palm over it and felt the protrusion of her ring.

Stephen. Wonderful, steady Stephen.

She still felt Jake watching her. She was probably glowing like hot coals by now. Confound it.

“So, you can, uh, patch it or something?”

“Or something.”

She wondered if the amusement in his tone was caused by her question or the fact that she’d ripped her hand away as if he’d jabbed her with a poker. She flickered a glance at him, but it stuck and held.

The amusement slid slowly from his face, replaced by something else. Something that made her stomach feel as if it contained a batch of quickly rising dough.

You just had to look. Heat radiated off his arm, inches away, and flowed over her skin. She could smell the faint scent of pine and musk.

She looked away. Told her heart to stay put. Deep breaths. She sucked in a lungful of his woodsy scent. Ix-nay on the eath-bray.

Meridith jumped to her feet and put distance between them.

Jake cleared his throat, then leaned into the grate. “Don’t see any daylight.”

Back to business. “That’s good, right?”

“Not if you want to use this thing. Flue’s blocked. Debris or bird’s nest, could be anything.”

“You can fix it?”

He pulled out of the grate, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Sure.”

Meridith hated how unsettled she felt around him. And the faulty fireplace only prolonged his presence. Why did he have to make her feel this way? Why did she have to keep reminding herself this was business?

“Can you draw up a separate bid?” she asked.

“Sure.”

She gave a nod, then returned to the phone to where she’d jotted Mrs. Wilcox’s number and waited for her heart to get a grip. Thank God he couldn’t read her mind.

She dialed Mrs. Wilcox, and the teacher picked up on the second ring.

“Thank you for returning my call, Ms. Ward.” The teacher’s voice was young and soothing. “I know Max has been through a trauma, and I’ve been keeping my eye on him, talking to him, giving him extra attention.”

“Thank you. I appreciate your concern.”

“I thought he was doing okay until today.”

“What happened?” Meridith leaned on the checkin desk, listening intently.

“There’s an event tomorrow night, Shining Star. I’m not sure you’ve heard. It’s a parent-child talent show we’re trying this year. I’m coordinating it.”

“No, I hadn’t heard.”

“Well, I’m afraid I goofed. I printed the list of participants without checking it, and—well, Max is on there. He and his mother had planned a ballroom dance presentation.”

“Oh. I didn’t know.” Poor Max. She wondered if he’d been thinking about it all week.