Girls of Summer(13)

“True. And we, well, Theo, sort of lost touch with Beth. She was in Theo’s grade, but after Atticus, they didn’t run with the same crowd. How is Beth? Have you seen her?”

“I have. She finished high school, went off to college, but she’s back on-island now, I think. She’s a smart girl, but she’s had some rough times. She lost Atticus, plus you know her mother died when Beth was practically a baby.”

“I remember that. What was her name?”

“Marla. Poor little Beth. Mack never remarried.”

“That’s right. He was always so nice. Gosh, now that it’s all coming back to me, I remember wishing I could talk with him about being a single parent but I never suggested we have a drink or anything because he’s so good-looking and I didn’t want to seem to be flirting with him.”

“You were the only woman in town who wasn’t.” Rachel laughed. “Friends would phone me in a romantic seizure if he so much as nodded at them.”

“And he never remarried?”

“No. He concentrated on his work and his daughter. Never missed a recital or a soccer game. But I know he’s a hard worker and a good guy. And he’s a restoration carpenter so he won’t want to tear your house down and build a new palace. He won’t cheat you.”

   “You’ve sold me. I just hope he’s got some time to take on a new client.”

“If he doesn’t, call me back. I’ll put on my thinking cap.”

“Great! Let’s talk later, meet for lunch or a movie.” Lisa clicked off, hurrying to find Mack Whitney’s phone number in the short fat town directory. Last year the cover shot was of all the firemen together. This year, it was of all the post office employees. She spotted Robin and Vilma and Tita, and smiled at them. Warmth surged through her. This island was her home, and suddenly she was filled with excitement at the thought of restoring her beloved old house to its former glory, or at least to some semblance of sturdiness and beauty.

She found Mack Whitney’s number and called, certain she’d get voicemail. When a low, pleasant voice said, “Hello,” she was, for a moment, startled. People didn’t often answer their phones these days.

“Oh, hi, um, I’m Lisa Hawley. My friend Rachel McEleny recommended you because my house is so old and the dining room ceiling just fell on my head.”

“Are you all right?”

“What? Oh, yes, of course. It didn’t all fall. But it will need to be replaced or repaired, and now that I’m really paying attention, I can see lots of big and small problems. The house was built in 1840, and I’ve tried to keep up with it, but I have a clothing shop on Main Street and that’s taken all my time. I guess I’ve neglected the house.”

“So you need a restoration carpenter.”

“Yes. Please.”

“Why don’t I come take a look?”

“Great! When?”

“I’ve got free time tomorrow, around noon.”

“That’s wonderful.”

“See you then.”

   “Wait—my address is—”

“I know your house.”

“Oh, well, good. Fine. Thanks!”

Lisa tapped off and stood very still, thrilled and a bit frightened at what she’d started happening in her mild, safe life.



* * *



—

Mack Whitney arrived the next day at twelve-thirty.

When Lisa opened the door, she nearly passed out, shocked by the sensual gorgeousness of the man. How had she forgotten his…his…his maleness?

“Hi,” he said. “I’m Mack.” He extended his large rough hand for her to shake and held hers in his.

“I’m Lisa,” she told him, “but of course you know that, you’re here because I asked you to come, and I’m so grateful. This poor old house needs a lot of love.” Oh, no! Could she say anything more embarrassing? It was all she could do not to slam her hand over her mouth and giggle like a tween. Two minutes with the man and she was talking about love and she never did that!

“I think I’m staring at you,” Lisa admitted. “It’s just, um, are you Dutch? You look like you are.” Trying to make some kind of sense, she added, “I was in Amsterdam once.” Could she sound any crazier?

“My mother was Dutch,” Mack explained. “I was born here.” He was still holding her hand.

“Oh, I see.” Gently, she pulled away her hand.

“It’s a beautiful house,” Mack said.

“Oh! Yes, it is.” Lisa stepped back. “Please. Come in. I’ll show you the dining room. The house must have been stunning when it was first built. It’s Greek Revival, you know, built in 1840, which is why the rooms are so small but still have fireplaces and the doors have those small rectangles of glass at the top so you could look in to see if something was on fire, but you probably know that.”

   She led him into the dining room. “Every room needed work when we bought the house. We did what we could, but the children were little—” She didn’t say, and my husband left me for another woman.

She was caught in the past and at the same time in the present where Mack, tall and wide-shouldered, extremely alive here and now, stood waiting. She couldn’t think what to do.