“Which is no surprise,” she said. She admired his forthright manner, admired how he’d approached her today, even though she was starting to feel ambushed at every turn.
Then again, if Mayor Pratt looked like Tom this conversation might have gone very differently. She couldn’t ignore the fact that last night their banter had felt the tiniest bit like flirting.
“I just arrived in town, Mr. Pratt, and I don’t even know what needs to be done to the house. It would be premature to say I know what I’m going to do because there are too many unknowns.” The man didn’t need to know that she still figured selling it was the best idea. “But I’ll keep your proposal in mind.”
He nodded. “That’s all I can ask,” he said kindly. “I hope I didn’t overstep by approaching you so soon…”
“Don’t apologize. You were clear and to the point. That’s refreshing.”
Pratt slid out of the booth and held out his
hand. Abby got up too and shook it. He gave her fingers a friendly squeeze. “You’re quite like your Aunt Marian, you know. Not so much in looks, but you’ve got her backbone.”
The way Abby was feeling about Marian’s lack of contact with Iris’s side of the family, she wasn’t sure if she should take that as a compliment or an insult. She decided compliment, because it had clearly been meant that way.
“Thank you, Mr. Pratt. I’m sure we’ll speak again.”
He nodded and waved at a few locals as he left the coffee shop. Abby sat back down as the waitress came back to warm up her coffee. She wondered how Pratt had known to find her here. She could sense several pairs of eyes on her and tried to ignore the conspicuous feeling that crawled over her skin. No doubt someone had tipped him off and he’d hustled over here from the town hall or wherever the mayor’s office was.
She looked back at the website she’d been browsing—Tom’s—and knew she really didn’t have a choice. Keep it, sell it, rent it to Jewell Cove—it had to be renovated before any option was viable.
With a sinking heart, she realized she was going to have to call Tom Arseneault.
* * *
Tom rested his hand on the railing of the deck overlooking the quiet cove as he waited for his burger to finish grilling. Other than the occasional car passing, there was no sound except the quiet lapping of water on the pebbled beach below. On a soft spring night like tonight, he was one hundred percent satisfied that he’d made the right decision, moving here. The cozy cottage was nestled in the trees and a grassy slope led down to the calm waters of Fiddler’s Rock.
Josh was coming home to stay. Tom had been thinking about that a good deal since hearing the news. He didn’t have a good feeling about this picnic his mother and cousins were planning. He agreed that he and Josh had to find a way to coexist. Jewell Cove was not a big town. They had the same family, a lot of the same friends. But throwing them together at some big welcome-home gathering might just blow up in everyone’s faces.
He’d skip the whole thing if he could, except he knew someone would come out here and drag him if he tried it. The only thing to do was show up for a little while and try to stay out of Josh’s way. Keep on the down low.
A car door slammed and Tom turned his head toward the front of the house. Had someone come in? He checked his burger, slid it onto the warming rack, and turned off the burner before going inside through the patio door. Just as he shut it behind him, there was a knock on his front door.
He opened it to find his cousin Sarah on his doorstep, looking her usual bright and cheerful self in jeans, a baggy T-shirt, and a perky ponytail.
“Sarah. This is a surprise. Are Mark and the kids with you?” He looked over her shoulder, but she appeared to be alone.
“Nope, just me. Can I come in?”
“Of course you can.” He said the words easily but he frowned a little. It wasn’t very common for her to show up on his doorstep. She must want something in particular. He could pretty much guess what.
She stepped inside and he offered her a seat. “I was just going to have some dinner. I can put another burger on the grill if you want.”
She shook her head and sank into one of his chairs. He realized his home was very different from her light and airy house overlooking the harbor. The cottage was all wood paneling and hardwood floors and sturdy furniture. The upholstery was dark and plaid—not a floral print in sight. It was snug and welcoming, and quiet and secluded. Just the way he wanted it.
“What brings you by, Sarah?” He kept his voice deliberately casual. “Everything all right with the family?”
“I’ve come to ask a favor,” she said, smiling brightly. “You do know about Josh, right?”
“I heard.”
“We’re having a picnic on Memorial Day weekend to celebrate his homecoming.”
“I heard that, too. Your mom called me yesterday.”
“Oh.”
It seemed very wrong that he and Josh should work so hard at avoiding each other. They had been the same age, with the same interests and friends. They’d played baseball together all through high school—Josh on the pitcher’s mound, Tom at shortstop. They’d double-dated, spent summer afternoons at the beach, and once put a hole in his father’s aluminum boat and had to swim for Aquteg Island before being rescued.