Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Finally. After a bazillion takes, they’d wrapped for the day. It had only taken until midnight.
“Thanks for the ride.” Scottie climbed out of Tisha’s SUV. “And the pie.”
“No problem,” Tisha said, yawning. “See you later.”
Scottie closed the door and trudged toward the front steps. Her whole body yearned for sleep. A moth danced around the glowing porchlight. Somewhere a dog barked, the echo reverberating across the hillside.
Her ears still rang with the noise from the filming they’d done at the café.
A baby who wouldn’t stop crying. Then Charlie, one of the servers, had dropped a plate.
It had shattered, setting them back again until they got the mess cleaned up.
And the extras were supposed to be eating, but they kept looking at the camera, blushing, and waving every time she panned the room.
So much for a quick, clean glimpse of life in Redemption.
Damian and Tabitha had sent the contestants, carrying their buckets of berries, into the café over and over.
Each time, they shared their offering with Tisha.
Thankfully, none of them dropped the berries on camera.
Although at least one tripped twice on the welcome mat coming in the front door.
By the sixth take, Scottie wished she’d had more caffeine with her dinner.
And by the tenth take, her patience had vanished.
Really, the problem was she couldn’t stay focused.
Ironic, given her job as the camera operator.
One image kept flicking through her head on repeat: Tate’s face when he’d apologized earlier, sitting at the table outside the coffee shop.
The way he’d dragged his fingertips across his jaw.
That vulnerable look in his eyes just before he’d glanced away.
His words had been direct. Typical Tate.
But his body language—she shook her head as she climbed the steps—he’d been sort of antsy.
Almost nervous. And the kicker? She hadn’t been able to look away. He was just so appealing.
“What is wrong with me?” she whispered. He used to be her best friend, her safe place. Not the handsome guy she couldn’t stop staring at.
Sleep. That’s what she needed. About ten hours uninterrupted. Because her current deprived state was making her think crazy thoughts. She pushed open the door to the bed-and-breakfast. Hopefully Lainey had some chamomile tea stashed away.
She stumbled, her foot colliding with a row of backpacks. “What in the world?”
School supplies filled the entire hallway.
Plastic crinkled under her feet. She closed the door, then slipped off her shoes.
Packs of crackers and fruit snacks had spilled out of a torn box, littering the hallway.
Boxes of markers and spiral notebooks sat stacked on the floor.
The place smelled like cardboard and Bubble Wrap mixed with Lainey’s favorite lavender-scented cleaning spray.
“Lainey?” Scottie asked. “What happened?”
Lainey stood in the doorway to the kitchen, holding a jumbo pack of highlighters. Her cheeks were flushed, and her blue eyes flashed. She tunneled her fingers through her spiky blonde hair.
“Your dad did this. He heard some of the kids in town don’t have enough supplies for the start of school, so he ordered all this.
” She moved closer, sidestepping a case of juice boxes, then nudged a pile of shrink-wrapped notebook paper out of her way.
“And he had it all shipped here. To me. I guess I’m the storage and distribution center for his latest project. ”
“Oh boy.” Scottie turned in a slow circle. “This is great though. The kids will get what they need, and Dad’s doing something that benefits the community. Right?”
Lainey tossed the highlighters onto a pile of backpacks. They slid off and clattered to the floor.
“Except you’re not the one up late at night trying to figure out where to put all these backpacks and a mountain of school supplies before your guests get here.”
Oh, she didn’t want to fight. Scottie pressed her lips together. Not tonight. Not ever, really. She had to be up in a few hours to ride the van shuttle two hours to Chitina and spend all day filming contestants dip-netting on the Copper River. Her head ached already.
“Well, nobody asked, but to me this is exactly the kind of thing he should spend his money on.”
“Easy for you to say.” Lainey glared at her. “You get to breeze in here for a few weeks with your nice job and cheer him on, and then you vanish. And I’m the one who has to live here. I clean up the fallout when he makes impulsive decisions.”
Whoa. Heat rushed to Scottie’s cheeks. “You call this fallout? I thought he was helping.”
“Helping who? Because he certainly isn’t helping me.”
Sharp words lodged in Scottie’s throat. She wanted to argue, to defend her dad and defend herself, but Lainey was right.
She didn’t live here. She wasn’t the one carrying the burden.
And yet, it wasn’t very fair of Lainey to complain when their dad finally did something nice.
Wasn’t this better? Meeting a need instead of wallowing in self-pity?
Silence hung between them. Lainey turned away, then dragged another box out of the middle of the hallway.
“I’ll help,” Scottie said. “What can I do? I mean, I have to be up at the crack of dawn. We’re leaving at six.”
“Oh, of course,” Lainey said.
The usual unspoken accusations rippled between them. Lainey didn’t have to say it. Scottie already knew. Lainey the super caregiver. Scottie the escape artist. Their definitions of help just weren’t going to align.
“If you’ll tell me where you’d like these things, I’d be glad to help you move them.”
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She tugged it free. Maybe this was an update from Damian telling her she’d get to sleep in because he’d pushed back the departure time.
Instead, a text message from Dad greeted her.
Dad
I had a surprise delivered to the B&B. Let me know when it gets there.
Yeah, this was definitely a surprise. She snapped a photo, then sent it to him along with a new message.
Scottie
It’s here. Feel free to come by and help load the backpacks. Lainey can’t do it by herself.
The dots bounced. Then stopped. Bounced again. Stopped. Then his message arrived with a whoosh.
Dad
I bought all that for you and Lainey to work on together. Bonding.
Seriously? She read it again, then barked out a laugh. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”
Lainey glanced up from pushing the spilled snacks back into their box. “What’s so funny?”
“Dad says he ordered all of this for you and me to have a project to work on together. So we can bond.”
Pressing her mouth into a thin line, Lainey tossed a package into the box, then turned and stormed out of the room.
Scottie blinked back tears. “Way to go, Dad,” she whispered.
He hated to be late.
Tate jogged across the parking lot outside Redemption’s Town Hall, sidestepping a mud puddle filling a pothole.
If he was serious about accepting the nomination for the council’s empty seat, he had to start showing up at meetings.
But vessel traffic had kept him busy, and Jesse, the new pilot, hadn’t started working full-time yet, so he’d worked overtime to guide a yacht into the harbor.
A yacht. What in the world?
The owner had seemed nice enough. Retired hedge-fund manager from California who’d promised his wife a trip to Alaska. The woman had peppered Tate with questions about the reality TV show. Taking the helm was thrilling, but it had almost made him miss tonight’s meeting.
He slowed down to dodge the yellow-and-black caution tape stretched from a piece of heavy equipment parked nearby to an orange traffic cone stationed near the front steps. Repairs to the building’s exterior following the tidal wave six months ago weren’t finished yet.
He took the steps two at a time, then hurried into the town hall lobby. The smell of drywall and fresh paint greeted him. At least the interior was finished. He pulled open the door at the back of the council chambers and stepped inside.
Whoa. Only a handful of empty seats remained in the back row.
He tapped the large envelope, the one holding the petition with his name written in as a nominee, against his gray pants, then looked around.
Almost everyone in the room had lived here for most of their lives, with the exception of two or three people sitting near the front.
Tate claimed a spot at the end of the last row, the upholstered chair with the wood frame squeaking as he sat down.
Thankfully, no one had called the meeting to order yet.
Maybe he wasn’t late after all. The low hum of conversation filled the room as people chatted with each other.
Redemption hadn’t been able to hold their normal municipal elections in May because they’d been in full-on disaster-recovery mode, so the first Tuesday in October they’d hold a special election.
He wasn’t sure he had any competition. Yet.
Maybe by the end of tonight’s meeting, he’d have a better idea of what he was up against. He spotted Hank and Willa in the row in front of him, sitting a little closer to the center. He waved.
Smiling, Willa twisted in her chair, resting one hand on Hank’s shoulder. “I’ve been praying for you, Tate. You’d be perfect for that empty seat on the council.”
“Thanks, Willa. That’s nice of you,” Tate said.
“We’ve needed a McGuire on this council for years,” Hank said, then winked. “Proud of you, boy.”
“I appreciate that, Hank.”
Although he still wasn’t sure this was the role for him.
Anthony’s words from last week still pinged in his head.
But after hearing about the guy breaking his leg out at Port Frisco and then one of the cooks nearly severing her finger, somebody had to do something.
Accidents were stacking up like kindling.