"Yes." My eyes watered. It was huge.
"It's good to have you back." Robert Ludlow, who everyone called Gramps, patted the top of my head. "Perfect timing, too. You're going to love the house we'll be rehabbing."
"Awesome." It had been a while since I had loved anything.
"This one is an interesting case," Wendy said. "A foreclosure that somehow slipped through the proverbial cracks. Several neighbors wrote asking us to help the new owners, a down-on-their-luck family."
Gramps checked his cellphone. "Time to roll, people. The advance team is on the site. The second van will grab the stragglers."
Someone slid open the door of the nearest van. I found a spot on the hard bench seat, buckled up, and closed my eyes. Nate's face flashed in my mind. My stomach looped.
The worst part was leaving my secret crush.
The corners of my lips ticked upward.
"SAILOR, WE'RE HERE." A cool hand shook my shoulder.
"What?" I struggled up from the dream. Dad and I had been on a sailboat, but it wasn't our boat. The name Solstice Sunrise had been painted on the transom.
"Come see the house." Wendy pointed out the open van door.
My seatbelt unbuckled with a click. A cool breeze tinged with salt and low tide smells gusted into the van. The sea. Love and longing chased by grief and anxiety surfed through me.
Wendy's thrilled expression collapsed. "Oh, no! Sailor, I'm so sorry. Gramps should have warned you. I imagine you haven't been near the water since ..."
"No. I haven't." The words came out strangled. "Don't worry. I'll be fine."
Wendy bit her lip. "Are you sure?"
"Of course." A Saint James does not acknowledge kicked-in-the-heart pain. Wendy moved aside, and I crawled out of the van. Seagulls cruising the cloudy September sky greeted me with their shrill squeals. My gaze dropped to the sandy path, half hidden by overgrown ice plants. No. It can't be.
"Do you know this house?" Gramps asked.
"Yes." I followed the trail to the rambling two-story Victorian. The cornflower paint with cream trim had flaked around the tri-windows facing the bay and near the front porch downspout. A riptide grabbed my insides. Screens had been torn from the first story windows and hurled into the ornamental grasses bordering the narrow lawn. Plywood covered three windows. Scanning to the right, I noticed the advance crew had left the front door open to the elements.
I barely registered the second van's arrival and the appreciative chatter of its occupants as they disgorged from the vehicle. My gaze swept the Victorian. "Where is she?"
"Who, dear?" Wendy asked.
"The mermaid."
Behind me, footsteps crunched across the sand that had blown onto the asphalt. The sound halted, and the familiar scent of mandarin, spice, and a hint of musk wafted over me. My heart quaked.
"You can't see her from this angle," Nate whispered in my ear. "We'll have to go inside."
I shifted, and my arm brushed his. Body heat escaped the thick fleece of his hoodie jacket. His complexion paled beneath his freckles, except for the fever blooming high on his cheeks. He squinted, as though the early sunlight hurt his eyes.
"You okay?" I asked.
He exhaled through his nose and copied my one-shoulder shrug--so no. We trudged up the path, side by side. I dropped behind when the ice plant forced us to walk single file.
Nate stopped at the edge of the lawn. "We lost the house during the recession," he confessed. "We moved to Indiana to live wi
th my grandmother."
I pressed my fingertips to my brow as if I could stem the flow of unwanted thoughts. "This was my family's fault, wasn't it? Because Dad pulled out of Solstice Sunrise--" I clapped my hand over my mouth.
Wendy and Gramps caught up with us. "Everything all right here?" Gramps narrowed his eyes at Nate.