Driftwood Lane (16 page)

“Well, he’ll have to do, then.” He missed the clue completely.

She rubbed her temple. Her Jake-headache was morphing into a Stephen-headache. “I can’t hand the children over to some incompetent, irresponsible uncle, Stephen. They’re my siblings.” She lowered her voice in case one of the children was able to hear. “And he might not want them.”

“I know how stressful this is for you, but have faith. God’ll work this out.”

“Faith without works is dead, Stephen.”

“Meridith . . .” The tension in his voice was like a tight wire being snapped.
Ping
.

“I’m not saying anything right now. Just that we need to keep our minds open and see how things go.”

“See how things go . . . ? Meridith, I see you might feel a sense of responsibility for them, really, I do. But children are a huge commitment.”

It was late. He was tired. She shouldn’t have brought it up tonight when he was so swamped leading up to Tax Day.

“It’s late, honey. Let’s revisit this later. Maybe we won’t even need to. Uncle Jay could show up at the door tomorrow and prove me wrong.” Meridith cringed. Why was she backing down? She knew that wasn’t going to happen.

“You’re right. I’m sorry if I seem on edge.”

“Perfectly understandable. I’ll call you tomorrow?”

“Sure. Night, Meridith.”

“Night.” Meridith closed the phone, turned off the light, and pulled the covers over her head.

Twenty-three

As Jake entered Meridith’s room, the fresh smell of citrus assaulted him. The scent of soap or shampoo or lotion or whatever it was that made Meridith smell so good. It transported him to the moment he’d had her in his arms. Okay, so it was only because she’d stumbled. A man could pretend, couldn’t he?

Pretend? What was he thinking?
Get a grip, Walker
. He was here to do a job, and not just the renovations.

He’d been living in the house now for three days and had been waiting to install the cold air return in Meridith’s room. Waiting for her to leave the house, and finally, five minutes ago, the opportunity presented itself.

But as soon as he stepped into her room and took one whiff, he wondered if he could do it. Rifle through her things? Her personal belongings? Open drawers, rummage through her closet? Not his style.

A gaping hole opened in the pit of his stomach, and it wasn’t hunger. He’d come to respect Meridith, if not see eye to eye with her.

But this was the only reason he was here. He had to think of the kids. If Meridith was bipolar, he needed to know. And if she was selling Summer Place, he needed to know that too. If she planned to uproot the kids, take them away from their friends, their memories, their home . . . that was unacceptable.

Jake scanned the dresser drawers, shut up tight as a beach house during a hurricane. She couldn’t have left one drawer open? Just one?

He set down the saw and peeked out the window one more time to confirm she hadn’t returned. The driveway was empty, except for his truck.

Half disappointed, he walked across the small space and entered the bathroom. He didn’t have to like it. He just had to do it.

One little peek in the medicine cabinet was all he needed in here. The door sqeaked as he swung it open. He scanned the rows of shelves. Lotion, floss, hair spray, deodorant, toothpaste, eye drops, mouthwash. Not one single amber bottle of medication. Maybe she was as normal as she seemed. Or maybe she kept her medication in her purse. He was so not going there, even if he had the opportunity.

Jake exited the bathroom and opened the bedroom closet. If he thought the room smelled like her, it was nothing compared to the scent that wafted toward him when he swung open the closet door.

Her belongings were sparse. One rod hung across the small space, maybe twenty occupied hangers. She probably had the rest in drawers. On the floor a suitcase, a few boxes, shoes. Lots of shoes.

He was tempted to shut the door and move on. But it would be stupid and careless to waste the opportunity. He squatted on the floor and rooted through the boxes, trying not to disturb things. A plastic bag held a bunch of stickers, scissors, ribbons, and stuff.

He lifted the lid on the last box, a white glossy thing. There was an album on top. He lifted it to find two more, and under those, photos. Rubber-banded in three separate piles. He lifted them out. Photos of the kids. Family pictures, some that Jake had seen. Meridith must’ve found them when she’d cleaned out Eva and T. J.’s room. What was she doing with them?

Were there photos of him? He fanned through the stacks. Near the end, he found one of him on his Harley with Ben. Thank God he was wearing his helmet. He studied the photo. No, nothing to give him away here. Where were all the pictures of him? Then he remembered the school poster Max had done last fall. He’d had to make a photo collage of his hero. Jake smiled, picturing the poster that now hung on his bedroom wall. The kid had pilfered every last photo of him.
Thank God
.

He picked up a photo of Eva and remembered the way her eyes lit under the afternoon sun, the way her smile brightened every room she entered. He felt a catch in his breath at the feeling of emptiness and loss that settled over him.

Enough of this. He had to focus on the task at hand. He swallowed hard and placed the photos back where he’d found them. As he replaced the albums, curiosity got the best of him. He lifted the cover of the first one. Centered on the page and surrounded by decorations was a hospital photo of Noelle in Eva’s arms with T. J. standing over her shoulder. A little pink bundle. Eva looked so proud. Seeing his sister so alive and happy made his throat ache all over again. He turned the first page and then another. The album stopped when Noelle was six or seven.

Had Meridith found these albums? He couldn’t see Eva making these. She wasn’t creative, and organization had been a foreign concept to her.

He touched the bag of ribbons and stickers. Was this Meridith’s doing? Was she making the kids albums? Why else would these things be in her closet? He replaced the lid and stood, then shut the closet door. She really did care about the kids. Probably wasn’t even planning to sell Summer Place. And he was rooting around in her things for nothing.

You’re a real jerk, Walker
.

Turning, he surveyed all the drawers in the chest and dresser. How could he make himself finish?

He dug his hands into his pockets. If she was planning to move the kids, surely there was evidence in here somewhere. If he found nothing, he’d assume the best, and he wouldn’t do this again. He’d give her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe even settle for shared custody, if the bipolar wasn’t an issue. As if it were up to him.

Feeling justified, he moved to the chest and began pulling drawers. The entire thing was empty. That was easy.

The dresser was next. Each drawer held a few neatly folded items, divided by clothing type. Sweaters, jeans, rolls of socks, then a drawer he knew he had no business in.

Nothing here. There was only one drawer remaining, and he’d saved it for last. The nightstand drawer where people kept personal things. He’d just give it a pull, a quick glance, then he’d be done. Back to cutting holes in the walls.

He approached the white table. A photo of Meridith and Lover Boy was propped in the corner beside a lamp. He picked it up and looked at the guy. Neat haircut, weak jawline, practiced smile. He shook his head and set it down.

An alarm clock topped a stack of library books. He tilted his head and scanned the titles.
Kids and Grief, When a Child Loses a Parent, 25 Ways to Help a Grieving Child
.

He really was a jerk.

Jake forced himself to reach for the vintage knob and pulled. The drawer squawked at him as he pulled it.
Yeah, yeah, I know
. When he released the handle, it settled at a cockeyed angle.

If he’d hoped to find it empty, he was disappointed. A copy of
Restaurant Hospitality Magazine
topped a stack of papers. So much for a quick glance. He looked out the nearby window and down into the empty drive. Still gone.

No excuses now. Just get it done.

He lifted the stack and scanned the bottom of the drawer. A pen, a CD entitled
Soothing Classics
, Carmex, a packet of tissues, and a paisley printed eye mask. The scent of lavender wafted from the drawer.

Nothing there. He’d sift through the papers and be done. He grabbed the stack and flipped through. Papers from the attorney’s office, a copy of Eva and T. J.’s will. He stopped at the last group of papers, stapled together. He scanned the top sheet. She’d had an inspection done on the house. The date confirmed it had been after her arrival.

The papers listed the repairs needing done on the house—the ones he was in the process of doing.

A feeling he didn’t like settled in his middle, heavy and unyielding. People had inspections before they sold a property, to avoid delays and problems during closing.

But people had inspections done for other reasons as well. A new owner wanting to get the place up to snuff. An overcautious safety inspector wanting to avoid mishaps and lawsuits.

He blew out a shaky breath, and as he returned the papers to the drawer, his eyes caught something he’d missed earlier. A white rectangle stuck in the groove against the drawer face. He slid the business card out. He recognized the woman’s name and face from local advertisements, as well as the logo across the top of the card. Jordan Real Estate.

He flipped the card over. A message was scrawled in blue pen. “Thanks for your call, Meridith. Let me know when you’re ready. Lora”

The card blurred in his hand as his thoughts raced. It was true. The thing he’d been convincing himself wasn’t happening, really was. She
was
planning to take the kids from the island, from their home. From him.

He slammed the drawer shut, picked up his saw, and left the room. His feet took the stairs quickly, and he was out the door in a matter of seconds. He dropped the saw on the porch and followed the flagstone path to his truck, sucking in gulps of cool air.

Inside his truck, he turned the key. He wanted to scream, wanted to hit something. He banged the heel of his palm on the steering wheel for good measure.

She was taking the kids away. Of all the stupid, selfish things . . . and he was helping her. Helping her ready the house so she could sell it out from under the kids. Keeping it a secret from them, on top of everything else.

But it would all work in her favor because she’d profit from the sale. The place was worth a bundle even if it wasn’t in perfect condition. He had no idea what Eva and T. J.’s mortgage was like, but surely they’d managed to accumulate equity in all the years they’d been here.

He jammed the gear in reverse and backed from the drive. He wished he were on his cycle right now. He’d head for Milestone Road and open the throttle until the landscape was nothing but a blur. He pressed the gas pedal on his old truck and settled for a spinout on the shelled lane.

How could she even think of doing this? Sure, she was awkward when it came to people and relationships, it didn’t take a genius to see that. Maybe she’d initially come here planning to sell the place, he could even accept that.

But now she knew the kids. She’d read a few books, and surely they told her what would be obvious to the average person: you don’t uproot children from all they know when they’ve just lost their parents.

She’d been here a month. Long enough to bond with the kids. Long enough to know better.

He smacked the steering wheel again. His mind’s eye saw her and Max box-stepping carefully around the elementary stage. Saw Benny clinging to her side as she read to him. Saw the stack of photo albums in Meridith’s closet. How could she not see that this would destroy them?

If she were going to be their guardian, she had to put them first. It would mean putting her old life behind, her old home, even her fiancé, if necessary.

But maybe he was the problem. Maybe he didn’t want the kids. Maybe he didn’t want a life on Nantucket. If Lover Boy didn’t want the responsibility, the money from the sale of the house would be a nice salve, wouldn’t it? It would go a long way toward smoothing his ruffled feathers.

Was that why Meridith was doing it? He turned away from town, needing time to think, not wanting to return to the house in case she was back. He could drive all day, spin this a dozen ways in mind, but in the end, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Meridith was planning to take the kids from Summer Place, and he couldn’t let that happen.

Twenty-four

“Thanks for staying with us,” Meridith told the Evans family. “I hope you enjoyed your spring break.”

“We did, very much.” Mrs. Evans handed over her key and took the receipt. On their way out, their kids fussed over who had to carry the heavy suitcase, and finally Mr. Evans scolded them and took it himself.

When the door closed, Meridith was torn between relief and dread. It was good to have the house back, but that meant the barrier between her and Jake was gone.

It had been almost two weeks since he’d come to stay, but he’d been distant recently. More than distant. He seemed hostile, moody. At first she’d wondered if something had happened. But she knew little of his personal life and wasn’t about to ask. Then she’d noticed he was fine with the kids and friendly with the guests. The Evanses had commented on what a nice man he was.

Finally Meridith had asked him if she’d done something to upset him, but he denied it. Still, his attitude reeked, and she was tiring of the silent treatment.

As if her thoughts beckoned him, Jake’s steps sounded on the basement steps. She tensed, wishing he were finished so she wouldn’t have to deal with the extra stress.

She checked the schedule again, as if she didn’t know she had three college students booked starting Monday. She had the weekend to ready the rooms and clean the house.

The children burst through the door. She hadn’t heard the school bus. Piper tried to squeeze in with them, but Max held her off, petting her while the other two entered. Meridith was greeting them when Jake entered.