“I’M SO CONFUSED,” Morgan said. “I thought you didn’t get the nanny job.”
“I didn’t. Not at first.” I’d called her from my new phone number while I was unpacking my bags at my cozy new apartment. It was small—just over four hundred square feet, Austin said—and it didn’t even have a kitchen, just a sink and a refrigerator tucked beneath a square of counter space, but it was perfect for me. I’d spent the last year living in a gorgeous penthouse apartment with a view of Lake Michigan, the Magnificent Mile at my feet, and I’d been miserable. “The guy, Austin, changed his mind.”
“Why?”
“I’m not entirely sure,” I said, shoving some underwear in a drawer.
“Did you blow him or something?” She laughed at her joke.
“It didn’t get that far.”
She gasped. “I was kidding! You messed around with the guy?”
“Calm down, it was just a kiss.” I sat on the side of the bed and looked out the window that faced the house. My eyes lingered on the chairs by the fire pit.
“You kissed him?”
“Just once. Well, twice. But the second time, he kissed me.”
“Holy shit! So there’s something going on between you guys?”
“No, no—it was just a moment of insanity last night. We both agreed that boundaries need to be in place now that I work for him.”
“But you’re attracted to him.”
“I mean, I guess.” I picked at a loose thread in the comforter, remembering the warmth of the skin on his strong, muscular back. “He does have this sort of anti-Neil, blue collar, sweaty handyman thing happening that I find very appealing.”
“Well, I think you’ve earned a sweaty summer fling with a hot handyman,” Morgan said. “Go for it. Get hammered. Get nailed.”
“I’m not here for a fling,” I said, laughing. “I just want to earn some of my own money. I never want to be dependent on a man again.”
“So you’ll stay there for the summer?”
“Yes. And since I’ll live for free, eat my meals with the kids, and have the use of his sister’s car—he’s even going to cover gas money—I can bank just about every dollar he pays me and come back to New York in the fall.”
“That would be incredible! Just like old times!” She sighed. “Except I’m old and tired now.”
“You have a baby,” I reminded her. “And that’s wonderful.”
“It is. Sleep deprivation just gets to me sometimes. But listen—are you sure you don’t need me to wire you any money to get you through?”
“I’m positive. Austin gave me a little advance already, and he let me use his credit card to set up my new phone number.”
“Are you sure this is the same guy you called a big grumpy jerk yesterday?”
“Yes.”
“You must be a really good kisser.”
Through the window, I saw Austin come out into the yard, and I stood up, moving closer to the glass. It looked like he was walking toward the garage. “Listen, I have to run, but I’ll keep you posted. Give that baby a kiss for me. Love you.”
On my way from the bedroom area to the living room, I ran my fingers through my hair. I heard him knock, and just before I opened the door, I took a breath.
It whooshed from my lungs when I saw him waiting on the landing.
“We’re heading over to my dad’s now,” he said. “He’s going to spend some time with the twins while I help Xander tear out the old floor at the bar he just bought. I thought maybe you could come along and get Mabel’s car.”
“Of course. What else can I do to help?”
He looked confused. “With what?”
“Anything. With the kids, or maybe doing some grocery shopping or cooking so dinner is made when you all get back?” Frantically, I wondered what I’d make if he took me up on the offer.
He shook his head. “Kids are all set. They’re going to order pizza and eat at my dad’s. You can have the night off, get settled in.”
“Then what about helping you and Xander out?”
“Doing what?” he asked, his eyes wandering over my tropical two-piece outfit and strappy sandals. “The bar isn’t open yet. It doesn’t need a hostess.”
“I know that. But I could be useful.”
His expression was dubious. “I can’t imagine how. But if you want to come along, maybe I can talk through the weekly schedule and routines. You can take notes.”
“Fine,” I said, aggravated by his dismissive attitude. It reminded me of the way Neil had treated me like window dressing. His little teacup. “Let me just change my clothes.”
“Okay, but hurry up. I’m already running late today because I didn’t plan on the lighthouse tour or the cellular phone place.”
I arched a brow. “Listen, pal, I managed a seventy-eight second head-to-toe costume change in four shows a day for eight years, including hat, gloves, earrings, and heels. I can be downstairs in shorts and a T-shirt in less than a minute.” I snapped my fingers, shut the door in his face, and already had my top off by the time I entered the bedroom again.
I hoped he was standing there thinking about it.
“Okay. Monday through Friday, up by seven, supervise them getting their own breakfasts, make their lunches,” I said, looking over the notes I’d typed into my phone. I was seated on a stool at the lone high-top table that had been left in the former tiki bar Xander was renovating. “Send them up to make their beds and brush their teeth by seven-thirty. Pack their bags for camp—must have bathing suits, clean towels, sunscreen, goggles, flip flops, lunches. Check their progress by seven-forty. Leave by quarter to eight.”
“Make sure they’ve turned off the lights.” Austin ripped up another section of rotting floorboards. “Owen will leave the cap off the toothpaste and forget to brush his hair, so he needs a little extra attention in the morning. Addie usually does everything on her own, but she sometimes likes help with her hair too. Do you know how to do braids?”
I nodded. “I was in show business. Hair and makeup will not be a problem for me.”
“No makeup,” Austin said sternly.
“Don’t worry,” I chided. “Once I get the false eyelashes on her, she won’t need more than some brow gel, rouge, and a nice red lip.”
He glowered at me. “No red lips.”
“Party pooper.”
Xander chuckled as he pried faux bamboo off the front of the bar. “So Veronica, what made you decide to stay in town?”
“Austin made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.” I slipped off the stool and took a bottle of water from the case on top of the bar. I’d run out to grab them a little bit ago, along with more trash bags—more than one of which I’d helped to fill and carry out back to the dumpster. “Water anyone?”
“Yeah, thanks.” Xander uncapped the bottle I offered and drank the entire thing all at once. “Hot in here.”
“Yes.” It was hot—I glanced over at Austin, who was sweating through his blue T-shirt. He straightened up and twisted his torso right and left before rubbing his right shoulder. Then he looked over and caught me staring, and I quickly looked at Xander again. “So when did you buy this place?”
“Just a few weeks ago.” He looked around. “It’s a little off the beaten path, but I think it will do well. There aren’t any sports bars on Main Street. But all this tiki shit has to go.”
“What will it look like when you’re done?” I asked, glancing around at the faux bamboo on the walls, the thatched roof over the bar, the framed posters of fancy tropical drinks with flowers and paper umbrellas in them.
“I’m going for rugged and masculine but high-end,” Xander said. “I want it to look like an up-north Michigan bar—casual and relaxed—but have great beer and craft cocktails, comfort food that’s not all greasy and fried, big screens to watch games, and a kick-ass sound system.”
“Wow. That’s a tall order.”
“An expensive order,” added Austin. “Where the hell are you going to get the money for that sound system?”
“I’ll figure it out.”
“Will you replace the wood floor?” I looked at the cement that had appeared where the wood used to be.
“Nah. I’m going to leave the cement, and behind all this fake bamboo on the walls, there’s brick. So once I yank that down, the bones will look a lot more like I want them to. Then I’ll focus on the furniture.”
“What about the bar?” I ran my hand over the scarred and stained surface, its varnish peeling.
“Actually, I want my big brother over there to make me a bar top out of reclaimed wood,” said Xander. “But he keeps refusing.”
Austin scowled in his brother’s direction. “I didn’t refuse, I just said I wasn’t sure when I’d have the time. That’s a big project.”
“So the furniture you make, it’s out of reclaimed wood?” I asked Austin.
“You know that table in his dining room?” Xander pointed at his brother. “He made that.”
My jaw dropped. “Oh my god, that table is so beautiful!” I looked at the bar again, imagining a long length of gorgeous, gleaming dark wood. “Something like that would be perfect in here, give it just the right character.”
“Exactly,” said Xander. “This jackass is so fucking talented. So ask him why he’s still working for my dad every day instead of working for himself.”
“Why?”
Austin busted up some floorboards. “It’s complicated.”
“No, it isn’t.” Xander tossed his empty plastic water bottle into a recycle bin. “Want my theory? Austin won’t quit working for our dad because he’d have nothing to complain about if he did.”
Austin shook his head and pointed the handle of a hammer at his brother. “You’re a dick.”
“So then what is it?” Xander asked, leaning back against the bar, arms folded.
“You know what it is.” Austin tossed the hammer aside and picked up a garbage bag. “I’m not going to abandon Dad.”
“He wouldn’t want you to keep working for him if he knew what you really wanted to do,” pushed Xander. “He could hire someone else to take over for you. Hell, he should sell the business. He needs to retire anyway.”
“Drop it.”
“But I want my reclaimed wood bar.”
“Then hire someone else to rip out your floor.” Austin attempted to shove rotted boards into the bag, but it wouldn’t stay open. I hopped off the bar and went over to help.
“Are you scared your business wouldn’t succeed?” Xander refused to give up.
“Fuck you.”
“Because it would. I know it would. You know it would.”
“Would it?” I couldn’t resist asking.
“Probably.” Austin kept filling the bag I held open. “But I can’t quit on my dad. He never quit on me.”
I nodded, recalling what he’d told me this morning about his father being so supportive when he’d announced he was bringing newborn twins home. And what he’d said last night about losing his mom when the kids were all still young. I knew how hard it had been for my mom to raise me alone—I couldn’t imagine raising five kids after losing your partner, especially when you were also dealing with grief.
I’d met their dad at the house before we’d come to the bar, and it was immediately apparent where Mabel had inherited her wide smile and her welcoming nature. George Buckley had greeted me like I was already one of the family, inviting me to stay for dinner, insisting I sit down with an iced tea and tell him about myself, showing me a photo album from the time he and his wife had visited New York City.
Mabel had already told him about me last night, but he’d also gotten an earful from his friends Gus and Larry, who’d stopped by after their usual Sunday breakfast at Moe’s—George would have been at the diner too, he said, but he’d had to take Mabel to the airport. But what did I think of Moe’s? How did I like Cherry Tree Harbor so far? Had I tasted the fudge? Seen the lighthouse? Had dinner at The Pier Inn? Taken a ride on the old ferry?
If Austin hadn’t been standing there tapping his toes and checking his watch, I could have sat there sipping iced tea and chatting with the sweet old man all evening. After a year of being in the company of people who had no interest in me outside of grooming me to become the future Mrs. Neil Vanderhoof, it had been lovely to sit across from someone genuinely curious about my life. He was like the father or grandfather I wished I’d had.
“I understand,” I said quietly. “Your dad is wonderful.”
When Austin looked up and met my eyes, goosebumps swept down my arms. He grabbed the bag from me. “Thanks. Should we keep going with the schedule?”
“Sure.” I went back to the table and perched on the stool again, listening with one ear while he went through the rest of the daily routine—quiet time with a book and a non-sugary snack after camp. Outside playtime was fine, but no wandering more than three houses in any direction. Library visits on Tuesday. Water the plants on Wednesdays (Owen) and Sundays (Adelaide). Kids have to bring down their dirty clothes and sort it all into baskets in the laundry room on Fridays. Laundry should be done on Saturday, including sheets and towels. Kids could help fold—Owen was good at towels and pillowcases, Adelaide liked matching everyone’s socks—and should put everything away immediately.
“You can do your laundry with theirs or separately,” he said. “Washer and dryer is in the basement.”
“Got it.”
“Please make sure they check off chores on their charts. It’s how they earn their allowance.”
“Will do.”
“Grocery shopping can be done any day, but there’s a list of things to keep stocked that I can text you. As for dinners, we usually eat around six o’clock in the summer. If I’m working late, eat without me.”
“Okay. And what should I make?”
Exhaling, he straightened up and rubbed his shoulder. “An effort.”
I laughed. “Deal.”
