The Things We Knew (16 page)

“What can I get you?”

“Um.” Lynette pushed her hair over her shoulders. “I'd like to apply for the job.”

The word that shot out of his mouth wasn't the answer she wanted.

“Really, Jed?”

“Sorry.” Jed cleared his throat. “But, really, Lynnie? You gotta be freakin' kidding me.” He busied himself pouring what she hoped was Coke into a tall glass and set it down before her.

“Not kidding.” She sniffed, checked out the bubbles, and took a sip. “What are you looking for?”

Jed leaned forward and grinned. “Now, darlin', you know what I'm looking for.”

“Cut it out, Jed.” Lynette frowned, already having second thoughts.

He straightened and picked up another glass. “Thought you worked at the day care.”

“I do.” She swallowed the fizzy liquid along with what little pride she had left. “But I could use the extra cash. So what's the deal?”

“Well . . .” He scratched his jaw, his beefy face brightening. “Serving, mostly. Can you cook? Need a hand with that too. No gourmet stuff. Just burgers, fries, straight up.”

“Sounds okay. What are the hours?”

“Three nights a week, some Fridays. A little over minimum wage, but you get tips.”

“Nights?”

“This is a bar, hon. I don't do much business during the day.”

Maybe with everyone home now . . . Her stomach churned at the smell of beer and grease, but she concentrated on a painting on the wall. Her father's classic bold strokes and attention to
detail gave her cause to smile. He and old Mr. Hagerman had been friends. “You've still got that painting.”

Jed glanced over his shoulder and heaved up his pants. “Sure. My old man left it to me, along with this place and the mold and the cockroaches to go with it. Heckuva legacy, huh?”

“I can't imagine anyone else managing the place, Jed.” She wiped her moist palms against her skirt and met his eyes. “When can I start?”

He hesitated, probably coming up with a thousand reasons to say no. But then he smiled. “Tonight?”

T
he painting was different. Darker. The house on the hill sat under threatening gray clouds, the roof shingles wet and glistening. Lightning slashed the sky and reached down to the sand on the deserted beach as whitecaps rolled into shore.

At first glance, Nick thought the house was Wyldewood. But a few details were different. Not as many windows, no flagpole, and the steps leading up from the beach were in the wrong place.

“You like it?” Evy stood beside him, head tipped to one side as she studied the artwork. “She has other pieces, brighter. Happier. I've already sold one today.”

“Yeah, I saw. I like those too.” Nick tried to make sense of the trepidation he felt. “But this one . . . the detail is fascinating.” He could almost step right into it. Soft yellow light shone from one upstairs window, the rest of the house swathed in darkness.

“I'm not sure I like it as much,” Evy mused. “There's something eerie about it.”

Two bicycles leaned against the steps of the back porch. A curly-headed doll lay discarded a few feet away, red mouth open in protest, unmoving eyes staring up at him.

Nick shivered, searched his memory, then shook his head. He retrieved his wallet and took out his credit card.

“You've become her biggest fan, Nicholas.” Evy rang up the bill.

“Why doesn't she do a show? You should arrange something.” Nick wondered at the older woman's contrite smile.

“Verity is very private.”

“There's a big charity auction coming up in August. I'm helping arrange it. If she was interested in putting a couple of paintings in—”

“I know about the auction.” Evy studied the many rings on her fingers. “I've asked, but she doesn't want to participate.”

Nick handed Evy a business card. “Have her call me.”

Evy held up a hand and refused to take it. “She won't. Shall I have this delivered to the usual place?”

“Yeah.” Nick ran a hand down his face and shoved off his disappointment. “Look, if she—” He sighed and shook his head. “Never mind. Actually . . .” May as well jump right in with both feet.

“Yes?”

“I have this friend . . . we're neighbors. Her father is a well-known local artist.”

“Drake Carlisle?”

Nick nodded. “You've seen his work?”

“Of course. Hard to come by these days. How is he?” Evy busied herself behind her desk, pushing papers from one spot to the next.

“He's not too well, unfortunately. But I thought if the family would part with some of his paintings, would you be interested in selling them?”

She studied him, long fingernails tapping out a tune on the counter. “Of course I would, but I might advise them to go to the mainland. Bigger market, people willing to pay more. Or I could broker the paintings on the Internet.”

“I suppose.” Nick shoved his wallet into his back pocket. “Maybe I should mind my own business.”

“Sorry?”

He'd said that out loud? “Lynette, Drake's daughter, isn't partial to accepting help when it's offered.”

“I see.” Evy bobbed her head, light dancing behind her spectacles. “Something tells me perhaps you can be a little too persistent, Mr. Cooper.”

“Ouch.” He put a hand over his heart. “I can't help it. I don't know why—this is going to sound stupid—but I feel responsible for her in a way.”

Evy nodded, but stayed quiet.

“Everything gets left up to her; her brothers and sister treat her like a child.” He shut his mouth. She'd already accused him of blabbing her business to half the island. “Well, I just think it'd be a good idea if we could sell those paintings.”

“Yes, indeed.” Evy clasped her hands together. “Perhaps Miss Carlisle might be persuaded over a nice dinner. It sounds like the poor dear might need an evening off.”

Nick laughed at her suggestive tone. “She might. We'll see.” He glanced around the gallery. He'd been chewing on an idea lately, something a person in Evy's position might be interested in. According to his father, Evy McIntyre was old money, Nantucket royalty of sorts. She'd disappeared for a while, gone through several husbands, but now made the island her home again. “I was wondering if we could talk sometime. I have a business proposition I'd like to discuss with you.”

The immediate interest in her eyes didn't disappoint. “Do tell, dear boy.”

Nick left the gallery, walked along the cobbled streets, and wondered how to juggle everything going on in his life right now. He'd bet he was the only one on the island who, on Friday afternoon, was not looking forward to the weekend.

His father had taken to spending the week in the city and coming back here on weekends. Nick intended to stay out of his way.

As he strolled past the various shops, he came to a halt when he spied the toy store.

A few minutes later he exited the shop and walked with
purpose until he reached the small house with the big colorful rainbow-shaped sign out front, Kiddie Kare painted in bold red letters.

It was pickup time. He grinned as he watched a little girl run into her mother's arms. A guy around his age came out holding a small boy by the hand. As they hit the sidewalk, the man hoisted the boy up onto his shoulders. The kid's shout of glee and the man's resounding chuckle tore Nick's gut. A visceral reminder of the kind of father he wished he'd had.

If he reached back into the musty pages of his memory, he'd come up short. Missed games. Missed birthdays.

Even missed his high school graduation.

Eventually Nick got tired of waiting, tired of hoping.

“Hello, Mr. Cooper. Something we can do for you today?” Joanne Harper walked toward him from the far side of the yard.

Nick gripped the paper bag in one hand and raised the other in greeting. “Afternoon, Joanne. How are you?”

“Can't complain. But I'll be a lot better when you stop sending me those notices.”

Nick loosened his tie, her words biting. Another reminder of how much he hated his job. “Sorry.”

She put a hand on his arm. “It's not your fault. I made a deposit yesterday, so we should be good this month.”

He nodded, sudden regret making him want to turn and run. “Is Lynnie around?”

“Lynette? Yeah, she's inside.” Joanne waved at two more kids as they left with their parents.

Nick shifted from one foot to the other, his heart doing the cha-cha.

What did he think he was doing here?

Since their encounter on the beach last Saturday, he'd gone MIA. He knew it, wasn't proud of it, and she probably thought he was the world's biggest jerk.

“You can go in, you know.” Joanne nodded toward the house. “Unless you'd rather stand out here looking like a stalker.”

He mumbled his thanks and strode past her before she decided to say anything else.

Nick moved through the brightly decorated rooms, taking in the colorful artwork on the walls, the toys, the small tables and chairs. The place smelled like kids and Crayola. Lego towers and abacuses lured him back to his own childhood.

Nick bent to examine a few finger paintings left to dry on one of the small tables. When he raised his head, he saw her.

She sat in a rocker at the far end of the room where they obviously did their reading; a small boy snuggled on her lap. Low bookshelves lined the walls, and a rug in bright primary colors covered the floor.

Nick watched as she and the kid read
The Cat in the Hat
. Lynette's voice was strong, full of inflection, her face alight with the joy of the moment. Her hair was pinned off her face, a few stray curls touching her cheeks. She wore a simple black T-shirt and jeans, sandals on her feet.

“Hi, mister.” The kid saw him first, greeted him with a toothy grin and a wave.

Lynette stared a moment, her eyes wide, full of things she didn't say. “What are you doing here?”

Nick smiled at the logical question. But he wasn't sure how to answer it. Instead, he shrugged and held the bag toward her. “Got you something.”

Lynette lifted the child onto the floor. “Tyler, go play on the swings. I'll come out in a minute, and then we'll go.”

“For pizza?” The kid's eyes practically bugged out of his head.

She nodded and pushed him toward the door. “Yes. Five minutes. Tell Miss Joanne I'll be right out.”

Nick managed to walk toward her in a way he hoped gave off confidence. In truth, he was having difficulty focusing on anything
other than the scintillating shimmer in her eyes. “I thought you said you didn't have a boyfriend. Have you been holding out on me?” Her blush sent shock waves blistering through him, shredding his self-confidence.

“I'm looking after him this evening.” She picked up a few books and put them away. “What's in the bag? Did you rob the bank?”

“Ha.” He found his voice a few octaves above middle C. “That's not a bad idea, though. You could drive the getaway car.”

“I think your dad would figure it out pretty quickly.” She took the bag he offered and peeked inside. “Nick.” Her grin was wider than the little boy's as she pulled out two brand-new Pez dispensers.

Goofy and Dumbo. He'd always been a fan of the flying elephant, and he felt both goofy and dumb right now.

He smiled at her surprise and the red hue in her cheeks. “You do realize those are practically collectors' items? I had no idea candy was so expensive. That lady in the toy store cleaned me out.”

“Totally worth it.” Lynette winked, popped a candy in her mouth, and held Dumbo toward him.

“Oh. No . . . really.”

“Really?” Her smirk did nothing to soothe his already rattled disposition. “You know you want to.”

He wanted to all right, but doubted they were talking about the same thing.

Now his cheeks burned like he'd spent a day on the beach. “Careful there, Shortstop.” Nick cleared his throat and held out a hand. She dropped a white rectangle onto his palm and he threw it into his mouth. The sweet and sour taste was a blast from the past.

“You know, I hated that name.”

“You did?” She was awfully good at hiding her true feelings sometimes. “I never knew that. Sorry.”

“Forget it.” She turned on her heel and made for a long cupboard at the far end of the room, slung her bag over her shoulder, and deposited her presents into it. He figured she had her own
personal Pez collection stashed away someplace, but it had been a gamble just the same.

“I hope you don't have those already. I mean, they have a ton in there. I could always go—” Her quiet laugh cut off his rambling.

“I'm sure you didn't come here to talk about Pez dispensers, did you, Nick?” Lynette crossed the room again and stood in front of him, staring at him through clear eyes.

Nick held her gaze and wondered how she managed to pull it off.

Innocence wed with wisdom that went beyond her years.

Everything about her exuded radiance, a goodness he wasn't worthy of. Her undefined beauty took him by surprise each time he saw her now. She was the girl next door in so many ways—her long honey-colored hair, cute upturned nose, the sparkle in her eyes when she smiled—she didn't have Mindy's supermodel looks; there was nothing ravishing about her. Some may call her plain.

He would call her beautiful.

“Nick? Are you okay?”

Once again he found himself at a loss for words

This was getting tiresome.

“Uh. Sure.”

“Well.” She gave a half smile and shrugged. “I don't like these kinds of conversations, so I'll just get on with it. Just so we're both on the same page . . . Last weekend, on the beach . . . Was it my imagination or did you almost kiss me?”

She might as well have smacked him. “Wow, Lynnie.”

“Wow, Lynnie?” She put one hand on her hip and frowned. “That's all you have to say? Because I'm pretty sure you told me you had a girlfriend. And I'm not about to get tangled up in that kind of mess, Nick. I have way more important things to worry about. Do you get what I'm saying?”

“Yes. I get it.” He thanked God she didn't expound further. He already knew he was an idiot. “Can I apologize?”

“If you think you need to.” Her smile returned and he couldn't tell whether she was teasing or not. The back of his neck tingled and he cursed this vixen who'd come out of nowhere and replaced his sweet, innocent Lynnie.

“Look”—he raked his fingers through his hair—“I'm sorry, but I'm not. I mean, I am, but . . . uh, I have no idea how to say this.”

“I never would have guessed.”

That smile was brutal—a volleyball slamming into his gut and knocking the wind out of him. Nick almost wanted to lean over and suck in air until he got his brain back. “Okay. The girlfriend thing . . . it's sort of a non-issue.”

“Define non-issue.”