Driftwood Lane (6 page)

Jake nodded as she opened the door.

It was a struggle to keep Piper outside. Meridith put her body in front of the door. “She likes you.”

Jake shrugged from a weathered leather jacket and took off his shoes, the movement sending a whiff of man her way. Woodsy, spicy. Masculine.

“Know you wanted to get those partitions up,” he said. “But thought I’d get your dishwasher running first. Have it done in thirty minutes.”

“You know the way.” She gave him a wide berth, glad to see he’d brought tools this time.

She followed him through the living room and dining room to the kitchen, noticing how quickly his long legs ate up the distance. This house was going to feel a lot smaller. She hoped he was fast. She could hardly turn down the bid, and his references had checked out too. Naturally.

He was already pulling the dishwasher from its home. It creaked and groaned, protesting the relocation.

“Thing’s pretty old.”

While Jake lowered himself to the floor, Meridith grabbed the sanitizer and sprayed down the counters, scrubbing at the dried blob of jelly Max left by the toaster. Next she filled the coffee-maker with grinds and water, plugged it in, then pushed the On button.

While the coffee brewed, she tidied up. Noelle had left out the cereal box, Ben’s crumb-filled plate remained on the table beside a half-empty glass of milk, and Max’s boat model mess was strewn across the end of the table. She wasn’t used to clutter, and clearly the children weren’t used to picking up after themselves.

When the coffeemaker beeped, she poured a steaming mug, inhaling the rich brew. For all the outdated appliances, Eva had understood the importance of a good cup of java.

The deep-roasted smell filled the kitchen. It would be rude not to offer the man a cup. His legs sprawled across the kitchen floor, extending from the dishwasher’s side. She followed the length of them down to the white sock where his second toe peeked through a hole. Somehow that little detail made him very real.

She shook her head. Silly.

“Coffee?”

“Maybe later, thanks.”

He was making noises under there with his tools. She hoped he knew what he was doing. While he worked, Meridith retrieved Eva’s tattered cookbook. They had guests arriving that night for the weekend. Max had said Eva’s cinnamon rolls were always a hit, and the repeat guests expected them.

In preparation for the guests, she’d had a talk with the children about Piper. No amount of explaining about food and dog hair or dander was enough to satisfy them, so she’d finally just stated the rule: Piper was now an outdoor dog. She made a nice comfy bed of old quilts in the garage, but even that wasn’t enough to soothe the children, especially Noelle.

Now Meridith opened the cookbook to the cinnamon roll recipe.

She needed a reason to stick around and make sure Jake wasn’t cutting corners.

She set the ingredients on the counter, including the packet of yeast. “Is it okay to run the water?”

“Sure.”

She filled a bowl with warm water, then moved away.

“You the new owner then?” Jake’s voice carried from the cabinet’s cavity.

“How’d you know there was a new owner?”

He strained, grunting, his legs shifting for better hold. “Small island.”

Just because it was a tourist destination in the summer didn’t make it immune to small-town gossip, she supposed.

She wondered if Jake had known Eva and T. J., then decided she didn’t want to know. Didn’t want to know anything about him. Best to keep it—

“Where you from?”

She ripped open the yeast packet and dumped it into the water, then added a teaspoon of sugar. “St. Louis.”

“The ‘show-me state.’ Where’d that phrase come from anyway?”

“There are several theories.” None of which she wanted to discuss. She read the directions again. “Let the yeast sit until it dissolved.” No mention of how long.

“How are the kids coping?”

She sighed. It really was a small island. “As well as can be expected. How’s that leak coming?”

He slid from under the sink and stood, a hose dangling from his hand. “There’s a crimp. Looks like—someone—tried to tighten it.”

His hands were large and dark-skinned. Long fingers, tapering down to squared-off tips. Nice hands.

Back to the hose. “Oh.”

Two seconds later he was under the sink again. She turned back to the yeast. It looked the same, so she started on the dough.

“What did you do in St. Louis?”

Well, wasn’t he Mr. Chatty today. “Safety inspector.”

“Aaaahh.”

There was something more to that
aaahh
, but she didn’t care to know what.

“Commercial, residential . . . ?”

“Restaurants and hotels mainly.” Maybe she should hand him her résumé and be done with it. She poured in the flour and dumped in the yeast mixture.

“That’s handy.”

She set the beaters into the mixture and turned it on. She smiled as a nice loud buzz filled the room. She worked the beaters around the dough, adding flour as she thought necessary. When it was well blended and stiff, she turned off the mixer. Now for the kneading. She removed her engagement ring and placed it on the counter.

“Nice rock.”

She jumped at the voice, nearer than she expected.

Jake wore a crooked grin. “All fixed.” He had a cleft camouflaged by the stubble on his chin.

She stepped around him. The dishwasher was back in place, the cabinet closed.

“Should I run it through a cycle to make sure?”

“It’s fixed. I’ll take a look under the cabinet later to see if there’s rotting. You wanted those partitions up first, right?”

“Right.”

He made some measurements at the base of the stairs, then exited the room, taking his woodsy scent with him. It was a relief to have him gone. Meridith reheated her coffee, added a dash of cream and sugar, and took a deep sip.

Jake might be convinced the leak was fixed, but she wanted to be certain. She punched the button, starting the wash cycle.

She was up to her wrists in dough when he returned with lumber. He set down the wood, and a few moments later he began hammering, the loud, sharp
thwack
s echoing off the walls. She cast occasional glances at the dishwasher base.

“Leave your fiancé back home?”
Thwack, thwack, thwack
.

“Yes.”

He grabbed another nail. One side of his mouth twitched as he lined up the nail.
Thwack, thwack, thwack
. “What’s he do?”

“He’s an accountant.”

“Aaaahh.”

That same tone. She didn’t know what it meant, but it was annoying. She shook the thought and checked the dishwasher. Satisfied it was fixed, she began loading the breakfast dishes.

“Must be hard to be apart.”
Thwack, thwack, thwack
.

She gave a tight smile, then returned to scrubbing the plates. How she felt about being apart from Stephen was none of his business. The fact was, it hadn’t been too hard. He called every couple days, and it wasn’t as though they saw each other daily at home. His schedule this time of year didn’t allow for that. It was tax season, after all.

“I bought the doors already, but if you don’t like them, you can pick out different ones.”

“They’re steel? With dead bolts?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She was sure there was sarcasm in the drawled word. Or maybe it was that twitch of his lips again.

“Then they’ll be just fine.” She loaded the forks and started the machine. It whirred loudly into motion.

She decided to start the laundry, as much to put some space between them as anything. Between the kids’ clothes and the bedding, it seemed she was always running a load. She started the washer, then vacuumed the guest suite and fluffed the pillows. Satisfied the room was perfection, she returned to the kitchen to check the dough.

She lifted the cloth and frowned. It was the same smooth ball it had been before. Maybe it needed more time.

She re-covered it and forced herself to check on Jake, stifling the inner voice that was coaxing her to hide in her bedroom the rest of the day.

The new door unit leaned against the wall, so big and heavy-looking it was hard to believe he’d managed it by himself. Her eyes scanned the length of his arms, the width of his shoulders. Okay, maybe not so hard.

She forced an image of Stephen into her mind, the one from the photo on her nightstand upstairs. Wearing a jacket and tie, hair nicely clipped, jaw freshly shaven. The picture of an ideal man.

Feeling reassured, she turned her attention to the doorway. The framing looked sturdy, but the opening seemed wider than the door unit. Or maybe it was the angle.

He held a nail in place and gave three hard taps, driving it home.

“Are you sure it’ll fit?” she asked.

He pulled a nail from between his teeth and set it in place. “I’m sure.”
Thwack, thwack, thwack
.

“How do you know?”

“I measured.”

She pursed her lips. Well, of course he measured, she just hoped he’d measured right. “I didn’t know the door would come with the frame thing already attached.”

“It’s pre-hung.”

Meridith stepped closer to the new unit and ran her hand over the smooth surface; then she knocked, getting a feel for the door’s sturdiness. It seemed solid.

When she turned, Jake was standing over her. His nearness startled her. “Oh!”

“Need my level.”

Did the man not understand personal space? She stepped back.

His lips twitched as he retrieved the tool. Not just the corner, but his whole lips. Not that she was looking.

“Is something funny?”

He reached toward her, his caramel eyes holding her captive.

Her breath caught in her throat as his hand brushed the side of her face. The touch was nothing but a whisper, but it left a trail of fire. She couldn’t move if she tried. And she wasn’t sure she wanted to.

He held up his finger, and she pulled her eyes from his. “Flour,” he said.

Her scrambled brain took two full seconds, then she turned, wiping her cheek, hating the blush she knew was flooding her face as she exited the room.

Nine

Jake checked his watch, then set down the hammer and took a deep drink of Coke. The kids would be there soon. His ears were tuned for the screeching bus brakes. If he were smart, he’d have told Meridith he had to leave at three o’clock each day so he wouldn’t run the risk of them giving him away.

But then he wouldn’t get to see them, make sure they were safe. Besides, how was he supposed to gather evidence if he didn’t see Meridith with them? So far she seemed relatively normal, but time would tell.

The downstairs partition was complete except for drywall and paint touch-up, but this upstairs doorway was wider, required more framing. He thought the whole concept was ridiculous anyway. What did Meridith think, a serial murderer was coming to stay at a B-and-B on Nantucket? But maybe paranoia was a part of the illness.

He couldn’t help but wonder, though, why she was having the other work done. Was she fixing up the place so she could stay, or fixing it up so she could sell? He couldn’t imagine her fiancé leaving his job and home to come care for someone else’s kids.

The phone rang, and he heard Meridith answer at the base of the stairs. She’d been busy all day, though she made time to stand over his shoulder plenty.

However, he’d discovered the key to getting rid of her. Just a few personal questions, and she ran for cover. He smothered a grin. Might be kind of entertaining.

The screeching bus brakes drew his attention. He hoped Noelle had reminded Ben and Max to be careful. They’d see his truck. At least, he hoped they would. Meridith was still on the phone—good that she was distracted.

The door clicked open, followed by the shuffles of three kids and the rustling of jackets. Had they seen his truck?

They clomped up the stairs, arguing about something someone said on the bus. He heard a smack.

“Stop it! I’m telling!” Ben said.

“Who you going to tell?” Max said.

“Meridith!”

“Shhhhh!” Meridith called. “Children, I’m on the phone with a guest.”

“She’s on the phone with a guest,” Noelle mimicked quietly.

They were nearly to the top now. They hadn’t seen his truck. He had to warn them.

They rounded the corner and he drew his finger to his lips. But not soon enough.

“Uncle J!”

Noelle slapped her hand over Ben’s mouth.

The boy’s eyes rounded. He stopped on the spot.

Noelle froze. So did Max, his eyes widening. Silence filled the loft.

Not a sound came from downstairs. Only the muted pings of the wind chimes stirring on the porch.

Was Meridith still on the phone? Why was she so quiet? Was she on her way upstairs?

Noelle pulled her hand from Ben’s mouth.

“Moron!” Max whispered.

Ben looked ready to cry. Jake set a hand on his shoulder.

Then the muffled sound of Meridith’s voice drifted up the stairs. “I understand. Let me check those dates.” Pages rustled.

Jake released a breath he didn’t realize he’d held.

The kids sagged. Then they threw themselves at him, making Jake stagger backward.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Noelle whispered.

“Shhh.” He pulled them down the hall toward their own cluster of rooms, farther from Meridith’s ears.

“I’m sorry,” Ben said.

“No damage done. But you’re all going to have to watch it.”

“I won’t do it again.”

“Did you find out anything?” Max asked.

“He’s only been here a day,” Noelle said.

“Your sister’s right, this is going to take time.” Though he’d been here long enough to see Meridith was a control freak. Clearly caution was her default.

He could still hear her on the phone, but couldn’t make out the words.

“She’s making Benny ride in a car seat!” Noelle said.

“What?” Ben might be a little guy, but he was too big for that.

“For
safety
.” Max rolled his eyes.

“Anything else?”

“She took away my iPod.”

“Only during dinner,” Ben said.

“Well, she took your ropes away,” Noelle said.