Driftwood Lane (Nantucket #4)(37)

Still, why was she putting her life on hold to raise three kids? It was obvious she hadn’t been around children much, and she’d never met her siblings before she arrived . . . so why did she want guardianship?

Even if she wasn’t a natural with kids and didn’t understand their grief, he’d have to do better than that to convince a judge she was unfit.

He’d have to get closer to her. It wouldn’t be easy, but he did have his charms. And if the opportunity for a little snooping arose, he wouldn’t turn it down.

A light flashed on his phone, and he punched the button as he unfastened his shirt.

“Hi, this is Meridith. I—uh, have some unfortunate news.” There was a pause.

The kids . . . Jake walked back to the phone as if he doing so would hasten her words.

“There’s been a change in my financial situation, and I won’t be able to finish the house. Effective today. I’m sorry for any inconvenience. But thank you for the work you’ve done.”

Another pause. What had happened? What financial situation? Were the kids okay?

“Oh, I also wanted to let you know the talent show went well. We didn’t so much as falter, and I wanted to thank you for that as well. So. Thanks. I guess that’s all. Bye.”

What was going on? She’d given him no useful information. Maybe he could get hold of Noelle. But he couldn’t risk an e-mail, and a phone call was out of the question. Besides, Noelle wasn’t likely to know what was going on with Meridith’s finances.

Okay, Walker, think.

Meridith didn’t have the money to finish. He couldn’t offer to work for free.

But he could offer a trade . . . Jake felt the weight lift from his shoulders, and as the idea gelled in his mind, a smile pulled at his mouth. Maybe this setback was really an opportunity in disguise.





Twenty-one

Meridith watched the school bus roll from the curb and went to the check-in desk to look over the registry. The tax bill, leaning on a homemade clay pencil holder, mocked her.

She’d go to the treasurer’s office in person and pay the bill today. After that, she’d develop a budget. She’d have to get into her account back home, her personal savings. She hadn’t mentioned that to Stephen when she’d called him the day before, but she didn’t have a choice. They had to eat. She had to keep the electric on, such as it was.

She prayed business would increase as spring progressed. There was a family of four coming late in the week, thanks to spring break, and a couple coming for the weekend. The extra money would help. Seeing how sparse guests were off-season, she realized how costly it was to keep Summer Place running. No wonder they were in arrears. Still, it would’ve been nice knowing that before paying Jake for two weeks’ work.

She’d been thankful he hadn’t answered the day before. Leaving a message was cowardly, but she couldn’t resist taking the easy way out.

As she hung up, a weight she’d later defined as sadness enveloped her. Maybe a little disappointment too. And though she told herself it was the unfinished house that plagued her, deep down she knew it was more.

All the more reason to be glad Jake was out of her life. She was an engaged woman. She didn’t need the distraction of some arrogant man who made her feel . . . things.

Her mind unwittingly flashed back to Saturday when she was whirling around the living room in his arms. When the feel of his shoulder, rock solid, did things to her insides . . . when the stumble had left her crushed against his chest . . .

And there was that feeling again. Drat the man. Even when he wasn’t there he vexed her.

She removed a notepad from the desk and made a to-do list. The house was quiet this morning. No buzzing of saws or pounding of nails, no high-pitched whine of an electric screwdriver. No slam as Jake had a hissy fit over some snag.

She almost missed that part.

A loud knock sounded at the door, and Meridith set down the pen and went to answer it. Please, God, a customer. Though it was early in the day for tourists seeking shelter. Maybe she could raise the rates to offset her financial woes. She made a mental note to check her competitors’ rates.

She opened the door. “Jake. I—didn’t you get my message?”

Why had she left a voice mail? Now she’d have to explain in person.

“Can we talk?”

“Uh—sure. Come in.” She didn’t owe him more money, did she? She’d cut him a check on Friday, and he hadn’t worked on Saturday— unless he was counting the dance lessons, but surely not.

He followed her into the living room, and she sat on the armchair, leaving him with a choice between the sofa and love seat. He chose the love seat, perched on the edge, elbows propped on his knees.

“I left you a message yesterday.” She couldn’t seem to get any further.

“Got it. You had a financial setback.”

She didn’t know why that humiliated her, but it did, even if it wasn’t her fault. It was one of those issues related to her childhood, she supposed, taking her right back to the calls from bill collectors. But unlike her mom, she was meticulous with her finances.

“I had an unexpected bill,” she said.

“I guess you inherit the bad with the good.”

Was that sarcasm flickering in those brown eyes? One moment Meridith thought she detected it, the next second she was sure she’d imagined it.