With no words, Carly reached for her hand, causing Brooklyn to cry even harder. There was a time in her life when she thought of Carly as a mother. In fact, most of the kids who walked through the doors felt the same. It was natural—this was the house everyone came to after school—but things changed. Death happened. She wanted to apologize, to tell Carly how sorry she was for staying away and how she thought Carly wouldn’t have wanted to see her. She had sent Brystol every summer, thinking that would be good enough. She saw now it hadn’t been. They held hands until Brooklyn’s tears ran dry, but the pain still lingered, and she knew it was never going away.
TWO
Bowie Holmes slid his foot into his brown work boot and pulled the laces over and around the hooks, skipping a set about halfway up since a hook had broken. He pulled the worn-out piece of leather as tightly as possible. He repeated the same for his other foot before he stood and groaned. His hand went instantly to his lower back as he bent over, trying to stretch out his aching muscles. He desperately needed a new bed, and as he stood there, looking at his boots, he knew a new pair of those would do him some good as well.
Amicable or not, divorce was hard. When Bowie and his soon-to-be-ex-wife, Rachel, separated, they were anything but cordial, and both ended up with separate lawyers, which was something he’d wanted to avoid, but her parents insisted. His lawyer was sucking the life out of his checkbook, while Rachel’s made sure he had to cover her fees too. He was getting royally screwed and couldn’t even enjoy it. Nor could he do anything about it.
He went outside and whistled. Within seconds, his faithful companion, Luke, came running. Bowie held the door to his truck open as his dog jumped in. This was the one thing he wouldn’t budge on with the divorce. He was keeping his dog, and he couldn’t care less what Rachel’s lawyer threw at him. Luke had adopted Bowie—at least that’s how he told the story. When he was a pup, the black Lab had wandered onto a jobsite, climbed into Bowie’s open-doored truck, and fallen asleep. He’d shooed, tried to chase the dog away, and told him to scram. The dog wouldn’t leave.
Rachel was none too happy about having a dog in the house. She claimed she was allergic, but Bowie could tell that her sneezing fits were fake. The dog stayed, and mostly he ignored Rachel, following his master everywhere. The only time Rachel had given a rat’s ass about Luke was when she’d told Bowie she was moving out and wanted to take the dog with her. There used to be a time when Bowie would have given Rachel any and everything she asked for, but there was no way he was letting her take his dog. Getting the message loud and clear, she’d packed her clothes, left his dog with him, and never looked back.
Luke hung his head out the window with his tongue dangling from his mouth. His ears flapped from the wind, causing Bowie to laugh. As he drove toward downtown, he mentally ticked off the phone calls he needed to return. Business was slow. The days of Seacoast Construction building multiple houses at the same time had gone by the wayside. Vacant or affordable land in Cape Harbor was scarce, and where Bowie failed, other companies succeeded. He was far too focused on keeping his company local, never branching out to the other towns. He held on to the belief that if he took care of the locals, they would take care of him, and it so happened that he was right. He was everyone’s go-to for construction. The problem was, no one needed any repairs, or they couldn’t afford them right now. For a while, he’d been able to make excuses; however, he was out of them now. He had no choice. He needed to expand the area he was willing to work, take jobs even when overnights were required, and he needed some advertising. Nothing hurt his pride more than when he saw a commercial for his competition. But those flashy ads on television cost money, which he didn’t have, unless he laid people off. It had been months since he’d taken a salary, and even he was running out of money . . . mostly thanks to his ex-wife.
He pulled his truck up to the curb and shut off the ignition. He sat there with his arm resting on the door, waving at people as they walked by. A few stopped to say hi to Luke, who had become a local celebrity of sorts. Everyone in town knew who he was, and when they saw him sitting on the sidewalk or in the truck, they greeted him; some offered his dog a biscuit. Luke was the friendliest dog in town, and everyone loved him.