Blue Heaven (Blue Lake) (4 page)

“What happened?” The words escaped before she could take them back.

“Car accident,” Daniel said. He kicked at the neat pile of wood they’d been building, avoiding her eyes. “My dad died instantly, but our mother hung on, in a coma, for weeks.” He tried to keep his voice neutral; she tried not to hug him. He looked like he needed one. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking on her part. No wonder he always tried to fix everything. No wonder he tried to keep whatever pieces of his family were left intact and exactly the same.

He held his large hands to frame the partially dismantled steps like a camera lens. “I’d make them wider,” he said. She noticed his hands were banged up for a banker, his fingers a little thick. Better hands for a hammer than a keyboard. His thumb nail on the right hand was smashed, a little deformed. So, another flaw. But, like the glasses, an endearing one. “And build a handrail on both sides. That might even lower your insurance premiums.”

“Sounds expensive,” she said, but in a soft tone. It had been so much easier to treat him in a business-like manner when he was dressed in a suit and tie. When she had not known his history.

“This—” He still kept his hands in a frame of the stairway in his head. “—leads to a Bryman property. I’d do it for free.”

This guy was either way generous or…what? What did he stand to gain? She covered her doubts by teasing him. “Don’t you mind changing the integrity of the beach steps?”

“Oh, these old things have been rebuilt plenty of times,” he said. “Weather. Water. People. Tears ’em up every decade or so.”

He climbed up what was left of the steps, stopping and turning to hold out a hand to help her up the ones they’d pulled loose.

She took his hand just in case, but focused on balancing on her own. When he would have continued walking toward the bungalow, she pulled him back. Which is when she realized they were still holding hands. And it felt nice. Warm and tingly, not a sexy shock like the first time they’d touched. She reluctantly released her grip on his hand.

“Look at this with me for a minute,” she said.

They stood side by side, staring at the house. Flaking paint made it look like a wrinkled old lady. The cement stoop begged to be turned into a big front porch. The squat roof wanted to be a room full of people. She could feel it.

“Can’t you just picture a second floor? The overhang could be the roof of a big porch? And upstairs there’d be windows to show off the lake view, with comfy furniture, and a fireplace and books and tables for eating and playing board games on rainy days?”

He seemed to consider what she said and finally, reluctantly, agreed. “Yes, I can see how this might be turned into an airplane-style bungalow.” He was quiet for a beat, while she basked in the sweetness of winning him over. “But that’s not what Bryman built.”

Okay, so she hadn’t won. Still, he’d seen what she’d seen. Their inner visions had agreed.

“Maybe he meant to,” she said. “Maybe he ran out of money. It was the Depression, after all.”

“We’ll never know. Unless you’ve got the blueprints stashed somewhere.” Daniel stood with his arms folded across his slim waist, still looking at her house.

She laughed. “Nope.” Then she sighed. “It’s just…that’s the part about coming up here that was so special. My aunts and cousins and us, we’d all have our own cottages, but every meal, we’d gather in the bungalow. And at night, we’d all be there together.”

“I heard your aunts insisted your dad buy them out.”

“They wanted him to sell his share too. That way they’d get the money faster.” All the anger and sorrow her dad’s decision to keep Blue Heaven had caused—one day she had a big, happy extended family, and the next nobody but Mom and Dad. Then just Mom—made her yearn to create a family of her own.

Chapter Four

Daniel had never been inside the bungalow. He wished she’d ask him in. If he fixed her beach stairs and her accounting problem with Bob, maybe she would. There was something in her that pulled him toward her. And it wasn’t just Blue Heaven.

While Eva went to the truck of her car to unload a box of what she called “treasures” he spoke briefly to Bob.

“Let me get that,” he said, taking the awkward box from Eva. Her arms were so delicate, pale and soft, but she wanted to do everything. He admired the way she’d pitched in with the beach steps, showing she wasn’t afraid of hard work.

“Careful,” she said when the box he held clinked. Glass, he figured.

She went back to her car and pulled out another, smaller box, affording him a perfect view of her sweet rounded backside. Then she slammed her trunk and he thought,
Just my luck. When
I’m finally leaving town, someone comes along who makes me want to stay.

Eva, carrying her box of fragile cargo, was beautiful in the way some women are, the ones who don’t know it. It was a quiet sort of beauty. Well, until she got excited about her project. Then her face came alive.
Hold on
, he cautioned himself.
She might be pretty but she isn’t practical
. Then he thought about why that would matter. He had enough common sense for both of them. If only she’d let him use it. If only she’d let him help.

He carefully adjusted his box, and opened the door for her.

“Would you like a tour?” she asked.

He walked in, finally right where he wanted to be.

“Just set these down over here,” she said, indicating a worn and scarred registration counter, a huge slab of old wood that spanned the walls end to end. It had an old-fashioned flip hinge, and, made from the same wood, an ancient set of pigeon holes were anchored to the wall on the other side of the counter.

He ran his hand over the wood.

“It’s awful. I’ll need to replace it.” Eva settled her box next to his.

“I think this is an old oak, right from the river.” Daniel carefully ran his hand over the thick slab of wood.

“Really?” She didn’t seem impressed. So he worked a little harder. He wanted to impress her.

“Yeah, I think Bryman took the tree trunk and sanded it down. Look at the grain of the wood.”

“Isn’t it weird to be an architect
and
a builder? Not just one or the other?” She came over to where he stood and ran a slow hand along the wood. He tried not to think about her slow hands on his body. He forced himself to think about practical things. Like, at least now she knew to watch for splinters. That was something. She also had courage. To start a project like this in the current economy. There was for sure more to Eva Delacroix than just a pretty face.

“I don’t know,” he answered her question honestly. He hated that he’d never gotten a formal education, but he’d learned to just admit when he didn’t know something. “Maybe it was the times. Maybe he thought only he could get certain things right. From the few letters we have, I know he loved working with wood as much as he did drawing blueprints.”

“And you do, too.” He nodded even though she wasn’t looking at him, but still staring down at the wooden registration counter as if it would eventually give up its secrets.

“All I see are a bunch of gouges and water marks,” she admitted. That was fine. He’d teach her to see beneath the surface. If she’d let him. An idea had been growing since he’d seen her on the beach, but he wasn’t exactly sure how to bring it up. She was so territorial, and rightly so, when it came to Blue Heaven. He’d wanted this property for a very long time. It had pained him to see the slow deterioration after the family stopped coming. When he’d heard Eva’s dad had died, he’d hoped her mother would put it on the market. She didn’t, but he could work with what he had. Right now, that was a little piece of Eva’s attention. He intended to make that attention grow. He needed to oversee this project. He had to. Nobody else would do it better. Nobody else would keep her from destroying historically accurate floor plans.

“Here’s where the staircase would go,” she said, indicating a perfect spot next to the entry door. He hated that he could see it. That her passion made him compromise everything he believed in.

“And through here is the kitchen.”

Early 1950s re-do, but the knotty pine cabinets were original. She led him through the room before he could take a closer look.

“And this is the living room…”

Except for a ladder, the living room was empty. She’d pulled up the carpet to reveal original wood flooring. She’d washed the windows, which were mostly original glass. She’d even shined the crystals hanging from what looked like an original light fixture in the center of the room.

Daniel pulled the ladder over and climbed the rung to inspect the fixture.

“Original,” he said. “This particular globe hasn’t been made since 1943.”

“But the chain’s a little rusty. I was thinking of getting a new one. Or spray painting it so it matched the rest of the brass.”

Daniel came down off the ladder.

“It can be cleaned. Try not to replace anything. Please.”

She needed him, she just didn’t know it yet.

“This room’s empty because I’m going to strip the floor and refinish it.”

“Perfect,” he said. “And it’s in good shape. No termites.”

“You can tell that from just touching a window sash?”

He’d come down off the ladder to inspect the windows. The sashes were bad, but not the worst he’d seen.

“I was thinking I’d need to replace those?”

“They can be repaired,” he said.

“Next you’re going to put yourself on my payroll,” she said.

“Oh, that reminds me. I spoke to Bob about your tax situation. Tell your accountant to cut one check to him every week and he’ll take care of the rest.”

“I told you I’d speak to Bob.”

“Really? I don’t remember that.”

“Because you were too busy plotting how to take charge of my renovation.”

“Restoration. And I don’t want to ‘take charge,’ but I do want to help.”

She looked miffed at the correction to her terminology.

“I’m sorry.” Those two words usually went a long way with women.

Her sweet face softened. He’d bet a Benjamin she was remembering his family history. He wished she wouldn’t. He’d rather be admired for his expertise than pitied for his situation.

“I’ve got an idea,” he said.

“Okay,” she said, but he could tell by her tone that what she really meant was “No way.”

He took a deep breath, still wondering where to start.

“Want a coffee while we talk?”

Relieved and grateful she didn’t kick him to the curb, he vowed to be more sensitive to the fact that this was her Bryman house, her project, not his. And that she didn’t seem all that interested in taking the advice or the help he’d offered so far.

He followed her back into the small kitchen and took a seat at the chrome-rimmed table, topped with shiny yellow Formica meant to mimic marble. He wasn’t great with décor, but this table looked earlier than 1950s. Maybe 30s or 40s. It sort of blended with the avocado green appliances. More or less.

“So, you’re bringing Blue Heaven back to its original intended purpose,” he said, looking out the little window the table sat up against, probably for its view of the lake.

“I’m not sure this place was ever really used as a business.”

“Yep. When the Depression settled in, your great-grandfather, Louis Delacroix, lost his job and decided to move his whole family up here.”

“How the heck do you know that?”

“Family legend. Not a lot of proof, other than county records. But I’ve found postcards. A few letters. Stuff like that. Anecdotal evidence.”

“So, what’s the rest? I mean, I know he had six kids, including my grandfather, but how long was he in business? And how did he pick this place?”

“The main house was built, and my great-grandfather, Vance Bryman, added the cottages as an afterthought, with the idea that Louis could rent them out and make his living that way. One story says he turned your side room, which was supposed to be a big family gathering room, into an office.”

“Wow,” she said.

“And then you said that your family stories tell that Louis worked with Vance? That they actually did some of the construction together?”

“That’s just a legend. I have no evidence at all, not even anecdotal.”

He’d hooked her. Everyone loves family stories. And, if it was true, it was pretty cool that their great-grandfathers had worked on this place together. He tried to dig up any other stories from his memory, stories that had been floating around Blue Lake forever.

“Louis scraped by with the business until the 50s, when he died. Your grandfather was the oldest son, so he inherited. He decided to use it as a family vacation home.”

“And my dad continued in that tradition, except that his father willed the property to all his kids together. So dad had to buy his sisters out.”

“It’s funny you all never did away with the registration counter or the wall shelf for the keys and mail.”

“We were a big family, and we always came up here together. So this little table didn’t work for meals. We had a big old long table in the office where we ate. We played in there, behind the registration counter. Hung our beach towels on those old key hooks. Right by the door, there was a big basket for our sand toys.”

Eva’s voice softened and her eyes seemed far away. Daniel knew that after her aunts sold out to Eva’s dad, the family never came up again. Not even Eva and her parents. He wondered why, but didn’t ask.

The coffee pot gurgled to a halt, pulling her from her memories back into the present with him. She got up to pour two cups.

“Sugar or cream?”

“Just sugar.”

She lifted on tiptoe to the top shelf for the bag of sugar, exposing, he could not help but notice, one smooth curvy hip and a dainty indentation of waistline. Before he knew it, he was beside her, one hand on her skin, the other effortlessly snagging the sugar that had been just out of her reach.

Chapter Five

“I don’t have a sugar bowl.” Of all the things she could have said, this was about the stupidest. But she couldn’t help it. His hand on her naked midriff made her an instant idiot.