Chapter 15
B everly had gotten Coastal Coffee back up and running, but a week after returning, she was still facing challenges.
At least the electricity was back on. That was a blessing.
But the roof leak had gotten worse because the tarp covering it came loose in a storm a few days ago.
Every time it rained—which seemed to be daily lately—she had to place buckets strategically around the cafe.
“I swear the insurance company is trying to wait me out,” she said to Maxine, who was sitting at the counter nursing her second cup of coffee after the morning rush. “They came out to assess the damage, but then crickets. Nothing about the amount they’ll pay toward the claim.”
Her friend nodded sympathetically. “I get it. Dale’s dealing with the same thing at Second Finds. The adjusters are swamped with claims all over the island.”
She sighed, swiping a cloth across the counter. “That’s just part of it. I’ve called every contractor on my list, and they’re all booked solid for the next month. At this rate, I’ll be serving coffee with umbrellas inside the shop by next week.”
“That could be a catchy new theme,” Maxine quipped. “Coastal Coffee: Where It Rains Indoors!”
Despite her frustration, she smiled. “Very funny. I just need to get it fixed before the next big storm hits. If the roof doesn’t get repaired soon, I’ll have to have the tarp redone.”
She glanced out the window, her attention caught by a red pickup truck that slowed as it passed Coastal Coffee. Was that Cliff driving a truck? Her stomach did an unwelcome flip.
“Speaking of repairs,” Maxine said, following her gaze, “isn’t that Cliff in that truck? I heard he’s been helping out all over town.”
She pressed her lips together. “Yes. Unfortunately, I was raised too well to dislike anyone completely. He’s been fixing roofs, clearing debris, and even helped Tori get her generator running.” She shook her head slightly. “It’s… confusing.”
“What has ever not been confusing between you and Cliff?”
“I know, I know.” She paused and shrugged. “He’s the same man who wants to build that monstrosity on the boardwalk, but then he turns around and helps neighbors fix their hurricane damage. I don’t know how to reconcile those two sides of the man.”
The bell over the door jingled, and she looked up to see the very subject of their conversation walk in. Cliff wore a simple gray T-shirt with work pants, and his hands showed evidence of manual labor. He hesitated just inside the door, as if uncertain of his welcome.
She felt several emotions wash through her at once—annoyance, confusion, and something else . After all she’d seen him do for the town over the past week, she couldn’t just throw him out, no matter how much a part of her wanted to.
“Take a seat anywhere,” she said, gesturing to the empty tables.
He looked genuinely surprised, his eyebrows rising slightly before he nodded. But instead of sitting at a table, he walked over and took a seat at the counter, a couple of stools away from Maxine.
“Morning, Maxine,” he said with a polite nod.
“Cliff.” Maxine gave Beverly a meaningful look before picking up her coffee mug. “I should get going. Dale needs help inventorying what survived the storm at the shop.” She slid off her stool and leaned closer to her. “Call me later.”
Beverly turned to Cliff, who sat quietly waiting. “What can I get you?” she asked, keeping her tone professional.
“Just coffee. And maybe one of those blueberry muffins, if you have any left.”
She nodded, pouring him a cup and placing a muffin on a plate. Setting both in front of him, she noticed the bandage wrapped around his left hand.
“What happened there?” she asked before she could stop herself.
He glanced at his hand. “Cut myself helping replace some siding at the library yesterday. Nothing serious.”
She nodded, then found herself saying, “I’ve heard you’ve been helping out all over town.”
He shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee. “Seems like the right thing to do. I’ve got the skills, and there’s plenty of work to go around.”
“And where’s your Mercedes? I saw you driving a truck this morning.” It appeared she was full of questions for Cliff Griffin today.
“Sold it over on the mainland. A truck makes more sense for now. I’ve been hauling things. Supplies, lumber, roofing material. Can’t do that with a Mercedes, now can I?”
“No, I guess not.” His practical decision surprised her.
Through the window behind him, she could see the blue tarp covering a section of her roof, flapping slightly in the morning breeze. She bit her lip, pride and practicality warring within her.
“How’s your place?” he asked as he turned to follow her gaze. “I noticed the tarp when I drove by.”
“It’s seen better days,” she admitted reluctantly.
He nodded, breaking off a piece of his muffin. “Finding someone to do repairs must be challenging right now.”
“That’s putting it mildly.” She laughed dryly. “I’ve called everyone I know. They’re all booked solid for weeks. I should have called the very first thing after arriving back here on the island. I know better.”
He was quiet for a moment, chewing thoughtfully. “I could take a look if you want. No strings attached,” he added quickly. “Just a neighbor helping a neighbor.”
She studied him, searching for any hidden motives. “Why would you do that?” She’d hardly said a civil word to the man since his return to the island and his ridiculous project at the end of the boardwalk.
He met her gaze directly. “Because Coastal Coffee is important to this town. And because…” He hesitated. “Because I know I’m not exactly your favorite person right now.”
That was an understatement, but she couldn’t deny she needed help.
“I don’t need charity,” she said finally.
“It’s not charity. It’s… making amends, maybe.” He took another sip of his coffee. “Or just being a decent human being during a crisis. Take your pick.”
Despite herself, Beverly felt a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “When did you learn to fix roofs, anyway?”
“I… uh, after I, uh… left… I worked some construction. And I’ve done plenty of hands-on work with my developments over the years. Contrary to what some might think, I don’t just sit in an office pushing paperwork.”
She considered him for a long moment. The pragmatic side of her brain was screaming to accept his help. She truly had no other immediate options. The emotional side was throwing up caution flags.
“No strings attached?” she confirmed.
“None whatsoever,” he promised. “I’ll fix your roof, and then you can go back to being justifiably annoyed with me about my development plans.”
That drew a reluctant laugh from her. “I suppose I can’t argue with that logic.
” She gestured to the ceiling, where a water stain was spreading.
“When could you look at it? I do have some leftover tiles from the last time I had the roof repaired. Not sure if I have enough for all the damage, though.”
“I can come back this afternoon after I finish at Mrs. Henderson’s place,” he offered. “I’m helping her replace some broken windows.”
She nodded, still not entirely comfortable but too practical to refuse.
“I’ll be here at three,” he said as he finished his coffee.
He stood up, pulling out his wallet, but she waved him off. “It’s on the house. Consider it a down payment on roof repairs.”
His lips curved into a genuine smile that, much to her dismay, reminded her of the boy she’d known years ago. “Deal.” He headed for the door, then turned back. “Beverly?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you. For not throwing me out on sight.” He sent her a lazy grin.
Before she could respond, he was gone, leaving her with a kaleidoscope of splintering emotions. She watched him climb into his truck and drive away, wondering if she’d just made a terrible mistake or a levelheaded decision.
The logical part of her insisted it was just about getting her roof fixed. But something deeper whispered that by letting Cliff help, she was opening a door she’d kept firmly closed for decades.