6. Ward
6
Ward
I t was, indeed, a proposition that Lysha Austin offered Ward, but not the one he’d been prepared to fend off.
He’d arrived at the Austin’s home nine minutes early to his appointment. Lysha had already told him to meet her at the boathouse, so he made his way down to the dock. He found her on the upper deck behind the bar, preparing drinks for the two of them. “Come on up,” she called down over the railing.
Against his better judgment, he did, but she didn’t seem to be aware of his reluctance. She smiled warmly in welcome and gestured with a long-fingered hand at a glass-topped table and chairs. “Sit, please.”
Ward turned down the mojito she offered him, but gladly accepted an icy carbonated water with a squeeze of lime, instead. Being nervous made him thirsty, and Lysha Austin was making him nervous.
Before he could ask about it, Lysha cocked her head and lifted her glass toward him. “My boat, by the way, seems to have fixed itself. Whatever that noise was, it stopped right after I called you.”
If there was nothing wrong with her boat, why had she not called and cancelled the repair? Ward wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that, so he waited for her to continue.
“It’s that way every time, I tell you,” Lysha said with a sardonic shake of her head. “You take your car—or your boat, in this case—to the mechanic because it’s making a terrible noise, but the moment you get there, it stops doing it. And no matter how much you insist that it’s happening, the mechanic can’t fix a problem that suddenly isn’t there anymore, can he?” She chuckled, but he didn’t hear much humor in the sound. “And then, of course, he just thinks you’re a stupid woman.”
“Sounds like you need a new mechanic,” Ward mused, beginning to think she might be speaking the truth. He’d had a coworker at a marina where he'd once worked who made a point to put women in their places when taking them out on the water. The guy had ended up offending the wrong person. The woman in question had called him on the carpet for talking down to her, and Todd had found himself out of a job by the end of the day. Ward had gained a new respect for his boss that week.
“Well, thank you, Ward St. James. I appreciate your perspective.”
Ward nodded slowly. “Would you like me to take a look at it, anyway?”
“No, no.” She waved away his suggestion. “If it starts up again, I know who to call.” She winked at him. “I know where you live, after all.” She looked past him out over the lake, and Ward turned to follow her line of sight, already knowing what he’d find. Directly across the water, Hazel’s place sat on a small rise that drifted down toward the little inlet—his mother had named it Misty Cove because of the way the lake fog collected there in the mornings as summer turned to fall. Still visible through a grouping of trees whose summer foliage was still filling out, was his parents’ house, around the curve of the bay.
Lysha slid a manilla envelope across the glass-top table toward him, drawing his attention to her again. “I have an offer for you. Before you say anything, please, hear me out, okay? I’d appreciate it if you’d take this home and read through it.”
Ward leaned back in his chair, unwilling to touch the envelope. He’d seen legal papers served in such a fashion before, and although that scenario seemed rather unlikely coming from Lysha Austin, he was going to play it safe. “What’s going on?”
It was a job offer.
A really good job offer that came with a jaw-dropping salary and a whole slew of benefits. The Carpe Diem Resort wanted to hire him as a fulltime Marine Mechanic Supervisor, a position in which he’d be responsible for the fleet of staff boats, as well as the rentals they made available to customers, and he would manage the staff and crew under him.
His first inclination was to shove the packet back across the table without even opening it. For one thing, Ward had no intention of staying in Autumn Lake any longer than he had to. He was here to float his folks through the rough waters they were currently in, then he was heading back across the country to California to pick up where he’d left off. He had a successful boat business of his own to keep afloat, and even though it might be operating just fine without him for now, he needed to get back to make sure it continued to do so.
Besides, there was the matter of Rochelle Trebler to see to. He wasn’t comfortable with how their three-year relationship had ended. If it was truly over, he wanted to finish things right, with no regrets between them. They’d been friends, too, after all. Right now, he felt like he’d abandoned her, and that didn’t sit well with him. He didn’t just walk away.
Which was why he was here now. His parents had sent him off to find his own path with their blessing all those years ago, but they needed him now. He wasn’t looking for another job.
But then Lysha dropped a bomb that Ward hadn’t seen coming.
“I spoke with your father when he was here working on my boat.” All business, Lysha wasn’t smiling anymore.
An uncomfortable sensation started low in his gut. Ward sat a little straighter.
“He gave me cause to believe that you might not be interested in taking over his business when he retires. Is that correct?”
Ward tried to keep his expression neutral. He didn’t want her to see his surprise at the question. Of course, she would have done her research on him before offering him this position, and his partnership in Blue Waters was no secret. Yet, she hadn’t asked him about Blue Waters. She’d been poking around in his personal life by getting information out of his dad. Where was she going with this?
“That’s a subject my father and I have yet to hammer out,” he said, choosing his words carefully. Truth be told, he wasn’t interested in taking over his dad’s company, but it wasn’t because of the work, itself. Ward loved everything about boats, whether at the helm as captain or repairing an engine in the hull, but he’d worked hard to make a name and reputation for his own company, one that had nothing to do with his father’s, and he took great pride in what he’d accomplished. As an only child, and an only son at that, especially in such a small community, there’d never been any question that he’d take over the family business one day. But from a very young age, he'd been determined to strike out on his own and show the world that he was his own man, not just his father’s son. His folks, good parents that they were, had understood his need for independence.
Pushing thirty, it didn’t seem quite as big of a personal mission anymore, but that didn’t change the fact that he now had his own life to live. Granted, maybe it was an easier pill to swallow because he’d found success out from under his father’s shadow.
There was also the issue of money, though. His father’s business was good. Solid. At least, it had been up until recently. Ted had managed to support his little family in Autumn Lake on the income he brought in from doing boat repairs and other boat-related jobs around the lake. They’d never had any excess, but they’d always had enough. Ward, however, had gotten comfortable with the income Blue Waters brought in, and St. James Mobile Boat Repair didn’t—probably couldn’t ever—compare.
He and his parents hadn’t spoken about the future of the company in a long time. Ted was too young to retire; he wouldn’t even qualify for Social Security for at least a couple more years. With Ward’s business doing so well across the country, it just hadn’t seemed to be a pressing concern.
Now, however, having spent the last several months at home, Ward was starting to wonder if perhaps the discussion was long overdue. Especially if his father was talking about the matter with other people. With North Shore people, no less.
“I understand,” Lysha said, her tone conciliatory. “But I wanted to be transparent with you about why I felt confident in offering you this position. I didn’t want to put it out there if you were in line to take over the family business. You wouldn’t be able to do both. A conflict of interest, as I’m sure you’re aware.”
“In the name of transparency, Mrs. Austin, you should have asked me instead of my father,” Ward said without hesitation. “Besides, as I’m sure you already know, I have a company of my own out in California.”
“I’m aware. It’s doing quite well, from what I hear. Blue Waters, is that right?” She leaned forward and tapped the envelope, not waiting for his confirmation. “This offer, however, includes a salary that’s significantly higher than the revenue your charter boat company brings in, and it would allow you to remain here in Autumn Lake to care for your parents.” She paused, gave him a gentle, empathetic—but suspiciously false—smile, and added, “Your father told me about his concerns for your mother’s health. For their future, and how he’ll manage.”
Ward shouldn’t have been surprised that she’d not only done her research on him, but on his business, too. What shook him was how seamlessly she went from talking about the objective details of the job to using his personal circumstances to pressure him into taking it.
The conversation had him feeling off-balance, and he didn’t, for one moment, wonder if that was what she’d intended.
“How is Mama doing, by the way?” And there it was. Confirmation. That not-so-subtle poke at the vulnerable spot in his underbelly.
“Why, exactly, are you pursuing me for this position?” Ward asked when he could make his voice work around the knot in his gut.
“Because you’re Autumn Lake royalty, Mr. St. James,” she declared. “Everyone knows and respects the St. James name; your father’s family has been a part of Autumn Lake for generations. We at Carpe Diem don’t want to be thought of as interlopers; we’d like to see that change. You saying ‘yes’ to this offer will go a long way to bringing the two sides of this lake together.” She paused for effect, then finished with, “People around here trust you, Ward.”
“People trust my father,” Ward countered.
Lysha gave him a rather placating smile, one that didn’t find its way to her eyes. “They used to trust your father. Now they trust you.” She took a sip of her cocktail—it was still more than half full—then nodded at his empty glass. “Would you like another San Pellegrino? Or something stronger?”
Ward hesitated briefly. He wanted to say yes to a cold drink; the turn the conversation had taken was making him a little hot under the collar. But more than that, he wanted to get off this woman’s deck and back onto the solid footing of his own life. “Thank you, but no.” He rose and politely pushed his chair back under the table. “If your boat is working fine, then I’ll be going.”
Lysha stood, too, her lips still curved up at the corners, but with a calculating gleam in her eyes. She glanced at the untouched packet on the table, but she didn’t address it. “Thank you for coming. I know your time is valuable. I’ll be expecting an invoice for this visit in my email.” She held out a hand for him to shake, and this time, he had no excuse not to touch her.
Her hand was soft and cool against his working-man’s calloused palm, and the diamond bracelet at her wrist sparkled in the afternoon sunshine against her smooth, dark skin. When she didn’t let go, Ward met her eyes with a question in his.
“I’d like this to not end on a ‘no’,” she said. “You have my contact information. Please don’t hesitate to reach out if you reconsider.”
Ward waited to speak until she let go of his hand. Holding her gaze, he said, “It’s a no, Mrs. Austin. But thank you for considering me for the position, anyway.” Why he was thanking her, he wasn’t sure. The more he thought about it, the more insulted he felt. Sure, it was a great offer, he couldn’t deny that. But it wasn’t one for a man who already had a successful business of his own. She apparently thought that his company was as expendable as his father’s.
Mrs. Austin was a WOOT through and through, and Ward just wanted to get off her dock and back over to the South Shore where he could let down his guard.
He wouldn’t be invoicing her. He wanted nothing more than to forget about this visit altogether.
B y the time he made it back around the lake and was pulling into the driveway, Ward had come to grips with the knowledge that he needed to sit down and talk with his parents about their expectations for him. He didn’t like hearing it from other people, especially not from someone who obviously had ulterior motives.
He still couldn’t quite figure out why Carpe Diem wanted him so badly. Sure, he ran a tight ship—literally—at Blue Waters, and he had more than proved his mettle by bringing his dad’s business back from the brink in just a few months, but surely, that wasn’t enough to even put him on their radar. Lysha had made it sound so simple, so noble. Bring the two sides of the lake together. Could it really be that straightforward?
Ward was tired of thinking about it, tired of conjecturing. He didn’t want the job, so none of it mattered, anyway. He climbed out of the van and headed up the narrow sidewalk to the front porch. He paused on the top step and turned to glance across the little cove toward Hazel’s place.
In the waning afternoon light, he could see that the front porch was empty.
Ward sighed, his shoulders drooping. There was another situation that didn’t sit right with him. He had to figure out what to do about Penny Anderson. He couldn’t just avoid her the rest of the summer, not in a town the size of Autumn Lake.
He pushed open the front door and called out, “I’m home,” then he bent to unlace his work boots. There was no answer, so instead of taking off his shoes, he headed back outside and made his way around to the side of the house.
He found his mother sitting on the compact seat-on-wheels cart he’d given her for Mother’s Day, weeding between two rows of tomato plants. “Hey, Ma. How you doing?”
“Ward! I’m fine, sweetie.” Rachel got to her feet and stretched, arching her back. “Ooh, that feels good.” She gave him a quick hug, then handed him her trowel. “Here. Will you put this stuff away for me? The cart, too. I think I’m done for the day.” She peeled off her gloves and tucked them into a pocket on her apron.
Ward stashed her things in the little shed at the other end of the garden, then joined her as she made her way to the back door. “By the way, it’s just you and me for supper tonight. Your father is out with the guys at the Old Mill.”
Fried Catfish Night. Ward had forgotten about it. His father had invited him to join him and the old codgers who converged there every Tuesday night, but in the chaos of the day, it had slipped his mind, and now he was too late.
“I forgot,” he said, grimacing as he held the door open for her. His mother pinched his chin as she passed by.
“You’re busy. Adding Hazel’s work to your schedule is a lot, and your father knows that.” She hung her gardening apron on a hook in the little mudroom, then headed into the kitchen. “I’ve got barbecue in the slow cooker. Should be nice and juicy by now.”
“Sounds great,” he said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. Talking things over with his folks would have to wait. His father wouldn’t be home for at least a couple more hours, and by then, his parents would start winding down for the night.