2. Chapter 2
Watching the sunrise from this spot is my favorite part of every day. In a way, winter is my favorite season. It’s quieter, calmer. Giving me a peace that I need to quiet my inner anxieties before the day starts.
The deck is the one thing I spent time on for myself last year. It was just a small set of steps leading to the door when I got the cabin. But I built on a large area to put out a table and chairs, and one of those outdoor sofas. Not that I ever have time to entertain, but I can relax with my coffee during the sunrise before my day starts.
I wrap my hands around the mug, embracing the warmth it gives off while I tuck myself further into my coat. The sliver of orange begins to rise above the horizon of the ocean. Taking a deep breath, I try to savor this simple moment before the craziness of my day.
Three hours later I’ve officially gotten all the headboards into the main inn, and the ones that weren’t installed over the weekend are now being stored in the office where all the other furniture is. I'm grateful to Emma for keeping my secret.
My hands are purple, they are so cold from carrying in the headboards without my gloves. One of my brothers borrowed my gloves with grips so all I have are my knitted gloves and the headboard slips right out of my hand. We have a storm coming tomorrow and the temperature is dropping quickly. I rub my hands together and head off to the kitchen in search of my third cup of coffee for the day.
Since when do I keep track?
I smash the button on the coffee maker when my phone rings.
Wyatt.
“Hey, what do you need,” I answer brusquely.
“Oh someone is still touchy.”
“ Busy is the right term. What do you need?” I repeat my question.
My coffee still isn’t brewing and now it’s blinking. I press more buttons, my impatience growing with the whole situation.
“I was just wondering if you wanted a hand tonight getting prepped for the storm. Hunter and I are going to stock Mom and Pops with wood and food so we’ll be there anyway.”
“Fucking Christ.” I smash one more button on my coffee maker. “You’ve got to be shitting me. ”
“You could just say you’re all set.” Wyatt reacts defensively to my brash response.
“No, I mean yes, I mean… Jesus. It’s not you. My damn coffee maker is broken now. I will take the help but I have to go. See you around four?” I spit out trying to balance the coffee maker and my phone on my way out to the trash.
“Yeah, four.” He responds despondently.
“Great.” I hang up the phone abruptly and toss the offending coffee maker into the trash.
I’ll have to apologize for that later. He’s just trying to help like I asked them to do and I’m being the asshole they all expect.
Hopping back on the four wheeler, I rush to my truck. Getting downtown just skyrocketed to number one on my list. I need coffee from Emerald Roasters and I need to talk to Margaret next door. Two birds, one stone and all.
One spot is left on the street outside the bakery. I groan when I see Esther, the owner of Emerald Roasters through the window of the bakery.
Margaret and Esther are the two nosiest people in town. I was hoping to get my coffee, talk to Margaret and get out of here. They’re some of the few people who haven't taken to avoiding me. Unfortunately.
I head into the coffee shop first, ordering my coffee black with a shot of espresso before going over to the bakery for the inquisition that is bound to come.
Sucking in a breath that freezes my nostrils, I ready myself as the bell dings over the door garnering the attention of both ladies .
“Liam Keaton, how wonderful to see you.” Esther gushes at me as I walk in.
“Mornin’ ladies.” I nod my head. “Margaret, do you have a minute?”
“For a Keaton boy? I have many.” She and Esther laugh. “Come on back to my office. Esther, can you watch the shop?”
She nods and walks behind the counter to take over.
I follow Margaret back to her office. Walking into the small cramped space, and taking a seat across from her desk folding into the small chair.
“What can I do for you today? Was there something wrong with the last boxes?” She looks at me concerned.
“Oh no, I actually wanted to talk to you about doing more. The guests are loving the welcome boxes we leave in the cabins, but we just finished renovating four of the bedrooms in the main inn so we will be opening those for bookings this weekend. Would you be able to provide baked goods in the morning, and maybe a few snacks in the afternoon for guests?”
She claps her hands in front of her, “Oh! How wonderful! Yes I would be happy to do that for you. Would you be able to pick up a few times a week in the morning? I don’t know if I can leave the shop everyday. And I don’t want to ask Esther to leave hers everyday.”
“Of course, I can make Wyatt do some pickups after his shifts at the station too.” I start to stand when she begins to speak again.
“While you’re here, do you think I could ask you for a favor?” Trouble glints in her eyes and I know it’s not a favor I’m going to want to agree to. But we both know I will .
I close my eyes and breathe in deeply, “Sure. What can I do for you?”
I don’t really have the time to do anything else for anyone else but I can’t say no to her. Or Esther. No matter how much they contribute to the gossip about my grumpy attitude.
“Do you think you could help Esther and I plan the Valentine’s Day dance?” I scoff at her request. “I know, you don’t love Valentine’s day, or love, but we need help. It’s become too much for Esther and I to handle on our own.”
I scrub my hand over my face. I definitely don’t have time for this. It’s not that I don’t love Valentine’s Day. Which, I don’t, but that isn’t the reason.
My eyes settle on a photo behind Margaret. It’s of a teenage me, and her granddaughter, the namesake of the bakery, Violet.
The photo is from the last Fourth of July she came to visit. I looked forward to Violet coming every summer until the summer she didn’t. Unfortunately, back then we didn’t have social media to keep in touch. And being a young kid I was too embarrassed to ask Margaret for her number or address.
In the photo she’s holding the small wooden wolf I had carved for her that year. Grandpa taught me how to whittle and carve a few years prior and every summer I made Violet an animal for the day of her arrival.
She looks behind me to see what caught my eye and turns back to me with a soft smile.
“I wish she never stopped coming. Now I only see her for the one week I go to New York City to visit.”
“I didn’t know she was in New York City. That’s nice. She never really struck me as a city girl, but I guess times change, huh?” I continue to stare at the photo. Her green eyes still captivate me even as an adult.
Violet was the only one who ever understood me in my awkward years. Loners together. I’d sit and play video games, while she was happy to lay next to me reading her books. Sometimes I’d bring a piece of wood with me to carve small items for her while she read. We’d lay out on the cove of the inn and just sit in silence together. She never pushed me to be more . I’d give anything to have that relationship back.
“She’s not. A city girl, I mean. She’s there for culinary school. Has big dreams of opening her own restaurant one day. She always says she’s going to come here to take over the bakery for me. But that starts a fight with her mother, so I bet she’ll end up in the city working for some egotistical chef.” Margaret frowns at the thought.
“Right. Well, I’m sorry for her. But I have to get going so I can finish my to-do list before the storm.” I stand to leave the office.
“What about the Valentine’s dance?” she asks.
Damn . I thought I could leave without answering her question.
“Yeah, sure. Let me know what you need when you drop off the food. Speaking of, how about Friday to start? We have all four rooms booked up this weekend, and the cabins.”
“Thank you, Liam,” she places her hand on my shoulder, “you’re a good egg, despite what the rumors say.”
“Yup. See you Friday.” I nod and leave the office, waving to Esther on my way out.
I’m so damn tired of the rumors .
At least I don’t have to deal with it until Friday, and I’m thankful to have the inn booked up. We have a lot of clients that come for snowmobiling in the winter. We’re right next to the trails and offer a great spot for people to stop and get some rest. The whole town allows snowmobiles and four wheelers as vehicles so it’s easy for them to get around town and our inn is central to everywhere they want to be.
I finish the last item on my to-do list an hour after I’m supposed to meet my brothers. Of course they come searching and find me outside one of the cabins.
“We said we would help you,” Hunter yells across the yard.
“With storm prep. This is my usual shit that I do every day before a booking checks in.” I toss another log in the pile against the cabin.
“They don’t check in for four more days, Liam.” Hunter scoffs at me, like I’m crazy and overbearing about my to-do list.
“Yeah. And I have four other cabins to flip and reset before then, plus four rooms in the inn, plus stocking the main inn’s firewood pile. And now I need to find a new damn coffee maker.” I scowl before bringing the wheelbarrow back to the main wood pile.
Hunter and Wyatt follow behind me.
“What can we actually do to help you?”
I look behind me, running through the list mentally. “I need stuff from the store for the inn. Especially if no one can go anywhere. And a coffee maker. I also could use help stocking the wood on the front porch. I need gas cans filled for the generators. I need the shovels placed by each cabin, and by the inn for the walkways along with buckets of salt. ”
Hunter holds out his hand to stop me, as if he can’t handle another thing. Welcome to how I feel, buddy .
“How about I run out to get the essentials from the store, and get the gas cans filled on my way back. Where are they?”
I narrow my eyes at him, “The same spot they’ve been in since we were kids.”
Wyatt laughs when Hunter opens his mouth again, knowing that he’s about to piss me off. “Yeah, and that spot is?”
I roll my eyes, “In the barn, On the right, behind the stables.”
Hunter takes off running toward his truck to go back to the barn.
“You know he took that job to get away from your crotchety ass.” Wyatt enlightens me. As if I don’t already know my attitude chases people away.
“I’m not fucking crotchety. I’m busy. I don’t have time for small talk bullshit.”
“You’re definitely crotchety but I still love you, brother.” Wyatt comes up behind me and wraps his arms around me, holding me tight so I can’t escape. I hate when he hugs me, which is probably why he does it.
He finally lets go and joins me in loading the wheelbarrow for the inn’s wood pile. We make a few runs in silence, our breath taken away simply from the frigid wind blowing off the ocean.
Once we finish, we head inside to feed the fire with the extra logs and take an extra minute to warm up.
“I talked to Margaret today about providing breakfast pastries for the inn everyday. Could you help me with pickups the days you get off overnights?” I don’t look at him, I just grab the logs from his hands and throw them into the wood stove in the dining room.
“I can do that for you. I can send you a list of the days I’m available every Sunday.” He pauses before speaking again, “I can always make time to help you, Lee. You just need to tell me what you need.”
That makes me snap. They know I’m here everyday on my own, especially since Dad has basically retired. He helps with some day to day office stuff, but not anything that is on my to-do list, only Emma’s.
My grip on the log tightens, my knuckles turning white. The red hot anger I feel whenever this topic comes up creeps up my neck.
“You guys know I’m here. Every fucking day. I have a to-do list that looks like this, every…single…day. Snow storm or not, this is my usual shit. I wake up at four in the morning, I get home at eight, eat some ramen noodles or take-out and pass the fuck out by nine. Only to wake up each day and do it all over again. Every. Fucking. Day.”
I throw the last log into the basket by the wood stove and walk off. I’m fucking done. Let them figure out what else needs to be done. They lived here and did all the same chores I did to maintain it until they left.
I stomp across the yard to my four wheeler, pulling my scarf up around my face. It’s so cold the snot is freezing in my nose with every inhale. But I’m so pissed the cold doesn’t even bother me. I park the four wheeler in the heated garage before walking back out in the cold to my house. Stomping up the front steps I take in the quiet solace of my own house. Flipping the lock signifies that the world is locked out, and more importantly, my brothers.