“Figured you needed something more than a grilled burger now and then.” She put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed while Bryce got up to get mugs for coffee.
Mary was a natural mother, and whether she realized it or not, she tried to mother him, too. He let her because she had made his miserable brother happy and because she was the best damned cook this side of Portland. She knew him well enough to know that his dietary staple was burgers on the barbecue, chicken wings, and bacon and eggs. Occasionally he mixed it up with a box of mac and cheese or a sandwich. But he was no cook, and most of his meals came from the café in town, right here at Bryce and Mary’s table, or Sunday dinners with his parents.
Bryce came back to the table and put the coffee in front of Tom. “So you met the new Foster woman. What’d you do to piss her off? She sounded mad as a wet hen when she called the office today.”
Tom’s pulse gave a little thump as he remembered the way her blue eyes had widened when she’d opened the door. “She doesn’t appreciate the workmanship in that house.” He scowled into his coffee cup, looking up when Bryce laughed. “What?”
“You’re going to tell me your foul mood has to do with workmanship?”
He’d gone to the house on Blackberry Hill with one goal in mind and he’d left without achieving it. At times he’d nearly had the upper hand. But she’d been stubborn. Sassier than he expected. “What else would it be?” he asked innocently.
Bryce blew on his coffee as he raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Nothing. But Tom, that house is a mess and you know it.”
“Doesn’t mean it’s not worth fixing.”
“I’m guessing you told her that in no uncertain terms.”
“Hell, yes, I did. Can you think of anyone who would do a better job than me?”
Mary was at the sink with her back to them but Tom heard the light snort and saw the movement of her shoulders. Bryce was grinning like a fool. Tom knew how cocky his words sounded just as he knew his brother was having fun winding him up. So predictable …
“Of course you’d do a great job,” Bryce replied. “And it would keep your mind off … other things.”
Tom didn’t miss the not-so-subtle reference and he gritted his teeth. “You know, it would be much easier to move on if people quit bringing Erin up all the time. I’m fine.”
“Right.”
Okay, so he wasn’t totally fine. He was still carrying around a fair bit of guilt about the way things had gone down. It had been hell falling in love with Erin, watching her marry someone else, and then losing her on some distant battlefield. That was perhaps the hardest part—knowing she’d been alone and so far away. At least when Erin had been alive he’d told himself he was satisfied with the knowledge that she was happy—or so he thought, until just before her last deployment.
It was just his bad luck that Tom had spent the evening in the Rusty Fern when Josh and Erin had announced their engagement and he’d been a little too vocal expressing how she was marrying the wrong man. Nobody ever forgot anything in a small town. Everyone knew by the next day at noon how he’d professed his undying love over one too many pints of beer. It had nearly been a relief when Josh had been deployed as an army doctor, and then when he’d gotten out of the forces he and Erin had stayed in Hartford, close to Erin’s family. Jewell Cove was small and seemed even smaller when you couldn’t look a man in the eye. Tom had got to her first, but Josh was the one who’d put a ring on her finger. That was all that counted.
Tom looked into Bryce’s face. He knew his brother cared, but moving on was something he had to do on his own time and in his own way. “I promise you, I’m fine.”
Mary’s soft gaze tore into him. “Honey, when did you last go on a date?”
He looked back at her evenly. “Small town. Slim pickings. Especially since my brother got the only woman worth having in the county.”
A pretty flush glowed on her cheeks. “Go on with you.”
“So what about this Foster woman?” Bryce sipped his coffee and leaned back in his chair. “Maybe you should ask her out. I heard she’s the right age and has all her teeth and everything.” He grinned wickedly.
“Abigail? Huh. She’s a mouse with a sharp tongue. Kind of plain, actually.” A hint of a smile cracked his lips. He’d gotten a peek at a fine bottom tucked into those snug, ripped jeans, not to mention her blinged-up feet.
“Plain, huh?” Mary questioned, a note of disappointment in her voice.
Abigail Foster was far from plain no matter what he said, but he wasn’t about to encourage Mary or Bryce. “Not my type. Look, all I want from her is the chance to work on that house. There’s not another to match it on the coast. Jed Foster built it with the best and built it to last. If she’s planning on selling it, she’ll get a better price if it’s restored properly first.”
Bryce shrugged. “If you’re so hot for the house, why don’t you buy it yourself? You could get it for a lower price now and either keep it or turn it over for a nice profit. Then her lack of appreciation wouldn’t matter and you could do it how you wanted.” He made air quotes around the words “lack of appreciation.”
The idea was a good one, and Tom had some money put by he could use as a down payment and for renovation materials. He tried to imagine flipping it for a profit after putting all the work into it. How could he invest all the time and energy just to hand it to someone else? But then he tried to imagine living there. What would he ever do with a house that big? Wander around in it and become a recluse. He was close to becoming a hermit now and he knew it. Besides, maybe he could scramble to put together a down payment, but the mortgage and taxes would bankrupt him. Flipping it was his only option.
Still, the idea was tempting. And if he bought it, at least it would be restored the way it should be. Who knew what atrocities some outsider might inflict upon it? Maybe Miss Foster would cover those gorgeous floors with carpet and rip out the fireplaces, cover everything with floral chintz or something. Unthinkable.
“I’ll think about it. It would be a lot more challenging than my current job.”
“Which is?”
“A new deck and pergola outside Jess’s store. She has some new idea of displaying windsocks or something outside this summer.” Their cousin Jessica Collins owned Treasures up on Lilac Lane. Josh had always said she got the creative genes in the family, but none of them had guessed at how well she could apply her business sense to that creativity. In the summer, at the height of tourist traffic, Treasures would be jam-packed with people. Generally Tom tried to avoid it, especially in the evenings when Jess held classes above the store. Too many women. Too much chatter. Cluck-cluck.