The Hero (Thunder Point #3)(52)

“That’s a relief. My dad would be spinnin’ in his grave to think I was ungrateful.”

“Why didn’t Ben leave this whole thing to you?” Cooper asked him.

“I had little use for it. All I wanna do is run errands and mop up now and then. I ain’t innerested in dividing it into parcels and talkin’ to a lot of people about what they can put on ’em. For that matter, I ain’t the friendliest proprietor and have no intention of getting any friendlier. I reckon Ben made the right choice, all things considered. You’re the talker, not me.”

And then he just walked back up that long staircase to the bar. Once he was inside, Mac started to laugh.

“It’s not that funny,” Cooper grumbled.

“I think it’s hilarious,” he replied.

* * *

The landscape of the town was changing in many ways. School would start the week before Labor Day. Lou McCain, who had shared a house and parenting responsibilities with her nephew, Mac, for ten years, was ready to move on. Since she taught middle school in Thunder Point, she could continue to help with the kids even if she lived elsewhere. She was the perfect person to make sure they got to and from school, and when Mac or one of the seventeen-year-olds, Ashley or Eve, or Mac’s new wife, Gina, couldn’t carpool the kids to games or lessons, Lou would find a way to help out. But at the age of sixty-one she was ready for something new.

“I’m getting married,” she announced at dinner one night. “I’m moving in with Joe this week before school starts and on Labor Day weekend, while you’re cooking burgers on the grill, we’re leaving town.”

There was silence around the table for a moment. Then Mac said, “Alone?”

“I’m over twenty-one,” she replied starchily. “And so is Joe, though he’s not quite as far over twenty-one as I am.” Joe was African-American, ten years younger and a State Trooper who occasionally worked with the sheriff’s department. So far there hadn’t been so much as a blink at the biracial connection or age difference.

“I mean no wedding, no reception, no friends or family along for the ride?”

She shook her head. “We’re looking forward to going somewhere alone. I’m not changing my name, either. I’ve been Lou McCain a long time. I don’t want to learn how to change my signature. And I’ll still help with the kids regularly. I mean—they’re as much mine as anyone’s.”

“They are that,” Mac agreed. “Well. Congratulations.”

“We have to get this done before football starts,” she said. “If you think I’m missing a Thunder Point football game, you’re crazy.”

* * *

In Cooper’s apartment, the plans for the new house were always handy, usually rolled up and standing at attention in the corner. Sarah thought Cooper was a little addicted to them. He spread them out a few times a day, made too many calls to the architect and contractor. He had pronounced this as Sarah’s special project, her responsibility since she was leaving the Coast Guard but, so far, he hadn’t been able to let go of it for thirty seconds.

While they were lying in bed late one night, he pointed out to her that she was almost done with flying. “You have one more week,” he said. “Then you’re all mine.”

“There’s a farewell party and you have to go. This time, no shots.”

“That hasn’t been a problem of mine,” he pointed out to her, since the last time they attended a Coast Guard party she was the one who got drawn into doing shots and he’d had to practically carry her home.

“Then it’s you and me. Mr. and Mrs. Cooper, beach bar entrepreneurs. We’ll be looking at colleges with Landon, going to Friday-night games, paddleboarding on the bay. What else are we gonna do?” she asked.

“Build a house,” he said.

“Right. You seem to be all over that project. So—what’s the anticipated date of completion on that?”

“The date they promise or the date it will probably actually be?” he asked. “Because the rule of thumb is that it always takes longer and costs more than they tell you.”

“Let’s go with your best guess on when we’ll be in there,” she suggested.

“I’d say June at the latest now that the roads are almost complete. They’re in but not paved. Damn, those suckers are pricey!”

“So, do we have money problems?”

He ran a knuckle over her cheek and smiled. “Not yet.”

“Are we going to have money problems?”

He lifted his brows. “Need something?”

“Do you promise not to laugh?”

“I never laugh at you, babe. You laugh at me, remember. But I take you oh-so-seriously.”

“I want to get pregnant. I want us to have a baby. I want me to have a baby and you to be the daddy. I want to throw away my pills. I want to just go for it. I’ve wanted it for a few years and never dared. But with you, I feel safe. I’m ready. I’m almost thirty-four and I want to have a baby.”

Cooper’s eyes got a little glassy. She thought he might be going into some kind of fugue state. He gave her hand a little squeeze and got off the bed and went to the corner. He gathered his rolled-up plans and came back to the bed. He unrolled one after the other until he found the floor plan he wanted to look at.