Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
T he day after he was sick, he jumped back into his work schedule full force, trying to catch up on the missed work. By the time he parked at his cabin that evening, his body was sore and his stomach growled loudly.
He knew that Loki would want his walk before food and, even though he ached everywhere, he strolled slowly down the beach in the light rain as the dog ran everywhere collecting sticks.
When they returned home, he heated up a frozen dinner and sat on the sofa and watched the news.
After he’d showered and crawled into bed, he realized just how lonely he and Loki were. Why hadn’t he felt it before now? Was this really how he’d spent the last few years of his life? Alone?
How had he managed? Why?
Sure, he’d gone out on a few dates over the years. None had ever ended up going anywhere.
It was strange. He’d been exhausted most of the day, but now, lying in bed with Loki snoring beside him, he was wide awake and thinking about Sophia. How he wished he could call her and talk to her, if only to hear her voice and to find out how it had gone the day before at the lighthouse.
He glanced at the late hour and groaned. She was most likely fast asleep at this time.
He rolled over and punched his pillow. Loki glanced up at him before groaning loudly and lying back down.
“Sorry, buddy.” He forced his eyes closed at the same time his phone chimed.
He rolled back over and smiled at his brother’s message.
“I forgot to tell you. You’ve been requested to visit the Pride lighthouse tomorrow first thing. Client requested you by name. Way to go, little brother!”
The next morning, the air was thick with mist as he navigated his truck up the winding road towards the lighthouse. The fog clung to the rocky cliffs to his left, and the faint sound of waves crashing against the shore provided a rhythmic backdrop. He parked his truck and grabbed a brown paper bag holding freshly baked scones and the steaming cups of coffee that he’d picked up from the bakery on his way over.
He could just make out the silhouette of the lighthouse in the thick fog. The light was circling around, warning approaching ships of the cliffs. Palmer was in awe of the sheer size of the place as he approached the house part of the building.
Max stood, leaning casually against the doorway, his sharp silver eyes sizing Palmer up as he moved towards him.
Palmer cleared his throat as he approached, holding up the bag and coffee like a peace offering. “Morning,” he said, his voice cutting through the quiet of the morning.
Max’s expression was unreadable at first, but a flicker of amusement crossed his face when he saw the offering.
“Palmer Clark, the handyman who also delivers coffee and baked goods,” he joked.
Palmer grinned, handing over one of the cups of coffee. “Figured it was the least I could do.” He shifted his weight awkwardly.
Max took the coffee and scone, studying Palmer with a measured gaze. “For what? Stealing Sophia out from under me?”
Palmer winced and nodded, but deep inside he was thankful that Sophia had obviously told the man about them. “Something like that.”
Max chuckled, the sound low and dry. “Relax. Sophia was never really mine to lose. And if I’m being honest, I think you two make sense. Even if it’s a little annoying.” He sighed as he looked through the fog towards the lighthouse.
Palmer raised an eyebrow. “Annoying?” Palmer laughed. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Max took a sip of the coffee and nodded in approval. “This is good. Almost makes up for the fact that I’m standing out here in the freezing fog. Almost.”
Palmer took a sip of his own coffee, the two of them staring out at the obscured view. “So, what do you have in mind for this place?”
Max’s smirk returned. “A lot.”
“Why don’t we have a look around and you can tell me. I’ll work out a budget and, if need be, draw up some plans.”
“Sounds good.” Max nodded. “First things first. I want to restore and preserve as much as I can.”
Palmer considered this, his gaze shifting to the weathered structure behind them. “Hope you have a big bank account. From what I remember the last time I looked at her, without the fog,” he added quickly, “she’s in desperate need of a lot of work. They covered her with paint, but her bones are very old.”
“I have enough that it won’t be a problem,” Max said, his tone losing its teasing edge. “This place is going to be my fresh start. I want it to be something worth looking at. Something that matters. While preserving its history.”
Palmer nodded slowly. “Alright. Let’s see what she has to offer.”
The mist clung to the air as Palmer and Max began their walk around the lighthouse grounds. The sound of the waves crashing against the cliffs below served as a constant reminder of the structure’s precarious and stunning location. Max gestured towards the lighthouse with his scone.
“First off, the tower,” he said. “The exterior needs some brick work, probably new windows. The light itself is maintained by the state park, so there’s no need to mess with it.”
Palmer let out a low whistle as they stepped closer to the weathered lighthouse. The cracks in the paint and the patches of exposed brick were more evident up close. “You’ve got your work cut out for you.”
Max shrugged. “It’s worth it. This lighthouse is an icon on the coastline. Make no mistake, I want to keep the soul intact, you know?”
Palmer nodded, a flicker of respect for Max’s dedication sparking in his chest. “Alright. But you’ll need the right team. It’s not just about the money—it’s about finding people who care about this kind of work. Which we have. Most of our crew are Pride born and raised.”
“Sophia assured me that you and your brother could handle whatever had to be done.” Max gave Palmer a pointed look before taking another sip of coffee. “I would love to help, and plan on doing as much as I can during this process.”
“Do you have any experience?” Palmer asked.
“I worked as a stagehand all throughout school. I’ve done a lot of repairs to my mother’s place. I’m not licensed like you, but I’m pretty handy with woodwork.”
Palmer nodded before they moved towards the larger house building attached to the lighthouse. The once-charming white clapboard exterior was now dull and streaked with grime. Max pushed open one of the front door, and it creaked loudly as the old rusty hinges carried the weight of the heavy iron.
“There’s plenty of work outside. We’ll have to check the electric and plumbing before we start in here,” Max said, stepping inside. He rattled off a list of things he noticed as they went. “New flooring, some updated electric and fixtures, plumbing fixes.” He inspected each space and wrote notes.
Palmer glanced around, noting the warped floorboards and cobweb-covered ceiling beams. “You’re brave, I’ll give you that. Living here while it’s under construction won’t be easy.”
Max smirked. “Not my first rodeo. I like a challenge.”
After a quick tour of the house, they headed towards the barn, a weathered structure with a sagging roof and missing planks. Max paused at the entrance, brushing his hand along the worn wood. The place had stacks and stacks of furniture and boxes, much like several of the rooms inside the house had.
“This barn’s going to be something special,” Max said, his voice quieter now. “I’m thinking of turning it into my studio.”
Palmer raised an eyebrow, surprised by the sentiment. “You plan on working here?”
Max shot him a wry grin. “Don’t let the city-slicker exterior fool you. I was raised outside of Portland. I’ve always had a soft spot for small towns. Plus, if I’m going to live here, I might as well work here. I’ll also want space for a horse or two. The barn can be separated pretty easily. Horse stalls in the back, workshop in the front.”
Palmer chuckled, running a hand along the barn’s frame. “Well, you’ve got a lot of vision. Let’s hope the reality matches it.”
When they stepped out of the barn, the fog had begun to lift slightly, revealing more of the rugged coastline.
Suddenly, Max turned to Palmer. “So what do you think?”
Palmer looked back at the lighthouse as the sun finally broke through the clouds and hit the building. He could just image the potential hidden beneath the layers of wear and time.
Without thinking of the cost, he extended a hand towards Max. “Yeah, it’ll work. I’ll draw up some plans and estimates. I’ll need to come back and get actual measurements for materials.”
Max clasped his hand, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Sounds good. When do we start?”
When he left the lighthouse, he immediately went to Parker’s place, high on the possibilities.
“So?” Parker said when he answered the door.
“We got the job.” He laughed and went in for the hug he knew was coming. “It’s a big one, and it’s going to be very tedious.”
“Good, then you can head it up. I’ll be busy holding down all the other jobs in the meantime.” Parker slapped him on the back. “I was just about to make some lunch. Care to join?”
“Sure,” he said and followed his brother into his house. Just then his twelve-year-old niece, Ellie, came running into the living room.
“Daaad.” She paused. “Oh, hi, Uncle Palmer.” She smiled at him for a second before turning back to her dad and continuing. “Ethan took the last cookie,” she whined, stomping her foot.
“Did not,” Ethan, her twin, yelled from the kitchen. It was obvious the kids’ mouth was full. No doubt with cookies.
Ellie rolled her eyes. “He left half a cookie,” she whispered.
“Come on into the madhouse.” Parker laughed.
Whenever Palmer hung out with his brother and his family, he realized just how lucky he’d been when things had taken a huge turn in his childhood.
Being abandoned by his folks at his aunt’s place at a very young age had been a hidden blessing. His father’s older sister had two kids around Palmer’s age to deal with, so he’d pretty much been ignored. He’d melted into the background as best as he could. Still, when he’d done one stupid thing, she’d dropped him off at a home for trouble teens, Covenant Home, known by the kids as Jerry, after the guy that had started it. He’d had his own room and bathroom, unlike at his aunt’s place, where he’d had to share with his cousins. The food had been much better and he’d been allowed to come and go as he’d pleased. So it hadn’t been all bad.
Growing up, he’d never believed he’d want a family of his own. Not after dealing with his parents, who had always showed up at his aunt’s place high or drunk and then would trash the place or fight, steal what they could, and then be gone by the next morning. They’d barely said two words to him that he could remember. Now, however, seeing his brother and wife build their own family, with their three kids—twins Ethan and Ellie, who were about the age he’d been when he’d come to live with Parker, and Liam, who had just turned ten—he knew that families could be something amazing. He’d started dreaming about it for himself.
In his mind, Sophia was the other half of his family sandwich, which had him smiling.
“What are you grinning about, Uncle Palmer?” Liam asked. The kid had always been intuitive, taking in everything around him like some sort of super detective.
“I was just thinking how much you’ve grown.” He reached over and messed up the kid’s brown hair. Out of the three kids, Liam looked the most like him. It was funny how genetics worked. Ellie and Ethan took after Sara’s family, the Jordans, but Liam was all Clark genes.
After lunch with his family, he headed back home to do some research and start working up a budget for Max. He uploaded the photos and basic measurements he’d taken of the lighthouse property and used his drawing application to start plans that he’d send to Max.
When Loki barked, he glanced up and realized it had grown dark outside. He stood up and stretched, then grabbed Loki’s leash as the dog danced at the door.
“I know, hang on, buddy,” he said as he hooked his collar. When he threw open the door, he was surprised to see Max standing on his porch, a fist raised, ready to knock on his door.
“Evening,” he said after he recovered.
“Evening.” Max glanced down as Loki tried to push past him.
“Sorry, he’s on a mission,” Palmer said with a chuckle.
“Don’t let me stop you. We can talk and walk.” He stepped aside.
After taking Loki over to the grass area and letting him relieve himself, he unhooked the leash. “I only put it on him to ensure he uses the proper space to do his business. It’s dark and no one wants to step in his business on the beach,” he said as the dog rushed off onto the dark beach, no doubt to find the biggest stick he could.
“What’s up?” he said, turning his full attention to Max.
“I was just on a walk,” Max said. “Sophia mentioned you lived here. I saw your light on and thought I’d stop in since I had a few other ideas to run by you.”
Palmer smiled, leaning against the porch railing as he listened. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore filled the brief silence. “How about a beer?” Max nodded. “I’ll grab a couple.” He motioned to the chairs.
Loki rushed up and dumped a huge stick in Max’s lap. The man’s chuckle had him smiling as he headed inside to grab the drinks.
After he handed Max a bottle, he sat across from him.
“I’m probably just amped from our talk earlier. It’s just... this project feels bigger than I expected.”
Palmer chuckled, crossing his arms. “Well, lucky for you, you came to the right place. Big projects are just a bunch of small ones pieced together. You focus on one task at a time. Like building a pyramid. One block at a time. You start at the bottom and go up from there. Trust me, we’ll get it done, one step at a time.”
Max glanced towards the beach, where Loki had found another stick and was now dragging it triumphantly across the sand. A faint smile tugged at his lips. “You’ve got a good way of putting things in perspective. It’s probably why Sophia thinks so highly of you.”
Palmer’s eyebrows lifted slightly, but he said nothing, letting Max continue.
“She hinted at how you’ve got a knack for turning chaos into something meaningful,” Max added, his tone softening. “That’s exactly what I need for this place.”
Palmer pushed off the railing, his expression thoughtful. “It’s not about turning chaos into something meaningful. It’s about seeing the potential in the mess and knowing how to bring it out. That’s all this lighthouse is—a diamond in the rough. And you’ve already taken the first step by wanting to restore it.”
Max met his gaze, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “You make it sound simple.”
“Not simple,” Palmer corrected with a grin. “Just worth it.”
Max nodded, the tension in his posture easing further. “Alright, I’ll trust you on that.”
They both turned to watch Loki, now lying in the sand a few feet away with his stick, gnawing on it contentedly.
“Now,” Palmer asked with a smirk, “you want another beer, or were you just here to scope out the local competition?”
Max chuckled, shaking his head. “Competition? Please. I’m just trying to make friends and fit into this small-town scene without looking like the awkward new guy who doesn’t know how to order at the coffee shop.”
Palmer grinned. “Let me guess—walked into Sara’s Nook and accidentally asked for a caramel macchiato?”
Max groaned. “Close. I asked for oat milk, and the barista looked at me like I’d just insulted her grandmother. Apparently, ‘we don’t do that here.’”
Palmer laughed, grabbing Loki’s leash. “Yeah, small-town life’s got its quirks. You’ll figure it out. Almond milk is the alternative around here.” He chuckled.
Max smirked. “Good to know. And here I thought moving to a lighthouse would be the weirdest adjustment.”
“Welcome to Pride,” Palmer said with a grin. “It’s a learning curve, but you’ll survive.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Max said, his tone dry. “What’s up with the old guys sitting outside the shops all day long? They look like they’re judging everyone who walks by.”
Palmer laughed and slapped the guy on the shoulder. “They are. Like I said, welcome to Pride.”
If he wasn’t careful, he’d grow to like the man.