Chapter 15. Holly
Holly
By midafternoon, Jade hadn’t returned from her trip to town. Holly tried not to worry. Why should she? Jade wasn’t her child. She was practically an adult. They hadn’t set any ground rules. That was probably a mistake. She gave herself a pass, having never parented anything with two legs before.
Holly couldn’t have contacted her even if she wanted to—she didn’t have Jade’s number. Did she even have a phone? She must. Then again, people used phones to stay connected, and Jade seemed alone in the world.
Except me. Now she has me, and I don’t know where she is, Holly lamented.
She released her semi-inexplicable, though not unjustified, worry.
Jade would return to the house at some point—she was more resourceful than a fox.
And foxes needed to eat, which reminded Holly that she should have extra food in the fridge, and probably fresh sheets on the bed, and clean towels, and …
What the hell? The night before, she had been desperate to rid herself of the urchin in the attic.
Now she was acting like her caretaker. Maybe she felt as alone as Jade must.
As Holly searched for her car keys to make a run to the grocery store, a silver Acura arrived in her driveway. A large blue pickup truck pulled in right behind it.
Gail Provost emerged from the Acura, her plastered-on smile tailor-made for a highway billboard.
The driver of the pickup appeared from his vehicle shortly afterward.
Holly’s gaze settled on a man in worn jeans, a plain white T-shirt, and heavy work boots.
He carried a toolbox in his right hand and a coffee thermos in his left.
He wasn’t flashy—broad-shouldered, yes, but more lean than bulky, his frame shaped by real work, not gym vanity.
His dark hair was wavy and a little unruly, like he’d already had a full workday.
Something about him felt quiet and decent.
Holly had the impression there was a softness beneath his calluses, perhaps a poet’s soul trapped inside a builder’s frame.
A kind smile confirmed her suspicion. He didn’t look her over, didn’t flinch at the graffiti-scrawled siding or the sorry state of her home.
No judgment—just calm focus on the task at hand.
Holly couldn’t pull her eyes away. As a writer, she was always inventing stories about people. In this man’s wistful gaze, she saw someone who had faced his share of ups and downs. It seemed likely he carried more tales than tools in his toolbox.
“Holly, this is the handyman I promised you, Ethan Greene. Ethan, meet Holly Sinclair, Beauport’s most famous author. She’s also the homeowner—for now.” Gail shot Holly a telling look. Ethan noticed, suppressing a smile. He seemed to understand how Gail operated.
Holly tried to act casual as intrusive images flashed through her mind.
It wasn’t her fault that his T-shirt was almost transparent and it was easy to picture him without it.
Ethan, shirtless, replacing the shingles on the house, fixing the kitchen sink, then taking a nice cool shower …
Okay, okay, that’s enough. She didn’t write romance novels.
Wouldn’t she need a romantic life first?
Her imagination was good, but it wasn’t that good.
Even so, at the moment, the handyman fantasy was vivid enough to make her blush.
In her defense, she’d had such a long dry spell that her body likely qualified as a desert ecosystem.
“Seems like you’ve got a bit of work to do,” said Ethan, still smiling as he stepped back to survey the graffiti, a broken window, and an obvious area of rot.
Meanwhile, Holly surveyed Ethan. She noticed his eyes were caramel-colored, like Max’s, the boy she once pined for—and he was strangely familiar, too, but only in the vaguest sense.
When he came to stand beside her, Holly felt a spark. Her mind clicked into thesaurus mode, as a writer’s brain is wont to do. Intrigue? Allure? Desire? Her palms turned clammy, and her cheeks flushed. A wave of lightheadedness hit her hard, as if she might topple over.
But this wasn’t swooning—no, something was wrong.
She was genuinely not feeling well. A flash of light blinded her, and when it started to clear, little stars danced before her eyes.
A tingling sensation, like a prickling of a limb falling asleep, traveled up and down her hands.
But it was the ethereal light show that she found most unsettling.
Holly clutched the railing by the front steps, bracing herself. She had no idea what was happening or why, but the sense of unreality, as if she’d entered a dream, only intensified.
“Hey? Are you all right?”
Ethan’s voice sounded like it was bubbling up from the bottom of a well.
Holly latched onto it, using the sound to pull her back from whatever abyss she was teetering on.
At last she felt her feet on the ground, her fingers tight against the railing.
Her vision cleared, and she was back to reality, away from that strange, murky dreamland. What the hell was that?
“Yeah, yeah,” she managed. “I’m okay.” She shook her head, still uncertain. “I think the heat and the stress are getting to me. It’s been a little … overwhelming.”
Ethan nodded. “I hear you, but don’t worry,” he said. “I’ve seen houses in much worse shape. A little sanding, a little paint, and it’ll be as good as new. Right, Gail?”
But Gail didn’t answer. She had slipped inside the house unnoticed during Holly’s episode. Holly heard her puttering about, likely taking measurements for the Zillow listing.
Ethan chuckled, and she felt woozy all over again.
“Gail’s rather … industrious, which makes her great for referrals,” he said.
Good-looking and tactful, Holly observed, maintaining her composure despite feeling a little out of it.
“I’m sure I can help with whatever projects you have. Come on, let’s take a look inside and get out of the sun for a few.”
Taking her by the arm, Ethan led Holly into the house. They found Gail muttering to herself in the kitchen. “Maybe just a breakfast bar or a new window … let in more natural light … ooh, or a sliding glass door to an outdoor patio.”
“Gail!” Holly called out. “Will you please stop redesigning my house for resale value? I’m on a budget. Let’s fix the plumbing before doing major excavation work.”
Gail glanced over, hardly registering Holly’s plea. Her eyes went immediately to Ethan’s hand on Holly’s forearm.
“Uh-oh, careful, honey. Don’t fall for this guy—you’ll be competing with every woman in Beauport.” She tossed her a wink, raking her eyes over Ethan’s physique.
Ethan dropped his hand with an apologetic laugh. “Don’t listen to her, Holly. Gail loves small-town gossip.”
“Don’t try to shift the focus. Every sad country song is written about a guy like you.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” said Holly emphatically.
“For what?” asked Ethan.
“Well, you must have lost your girl, your dog, and your truck all in one day.”
Ethan chuckled. “Yeah, it’s been rough. That’s a rental.” He thumbed out the window to his pickup truck. “No, really, it is. My truck just died. I swear, I’m not making that up.”
They all burst out laughing, but soon got down to business.
Holly showed Ethan around the house, pointing out areas that needed repair. All in all, it was a very long list.
“I should be able to get the work done in about six weeks. I can give you a full estimate by morning.”
“Hopefully, I can get the money—I have to see a lawyer about that.”
“Allen Spellman?” Gail guessed.
“How did you know?” Holly asked.
“Small town, few options, and Allen is the local go-to for estate work. Same as Ethan is a town favorite for home repairs … among other things.” Gail looked mischievous.
Ethan cleared his throat. “If you’re worried about my ability as a handyman, I could send you some references.
Or better yet, I’ve done a lot of work at the Carmichael estate.
They’re regular clients. That place is so old, there’s always more to do.
If you’re up for it, we could take a drive over, and I’ll show you some of my skills. ” Ethan flushed. “What I mean is, uh—”
“I know what you mean,” said Holly, who had seen boiled lobster less red. Her kind smile saved him from further embarrassment, and she hoped it left a door open to other possibilities. It rained in the Sahara, if seldom.
The light of gossip sparked in Gail’s eyes. “Oh, you’re going to take her on a tour of the Addams Family house?”
Holly didn’t need a tour. She knew plenty about the Carmichael estate, and had no interest in ever going there again.
Besides, she wasn’t a fan of stone houses. She found them cold and a little creepy—a touch too gothic for her taste. The Addams Family reference was appropriate. But Gail’s tone suggested it was the residents that reminded her of the monster show, not the building itself. Holly agreed.
Gail would love nothing more than dirt on the Carmichaels, and Holly could give her a truckload.
But that would mean opening up about her connection to that family, which she was reluctant to do.
She was, however, curious what had happened to them over the years.
Holly had long ago lost track of the Carmichael clan and their staff, who came and went like the seasons.
If anybody knew their recent history, it would be Gail.
“Are the Carmichaels as influential in town as ever?” Holly inquired.
Gail shrugged. “They’ve faded into the background a bit these days. You could say their heyday has turned to mostly hay.” She laughed at her own joke.
“That’s too bad,” said Holly, masking her insincerity. “They used to be pillars of the community, big into their charitable causes.”
“Not anymore, they tend to keep to themselves,” said Gail. “Even summer people like you, Holly, probably remember the soirees they used to throw. The Barefoot Beach Ball? Over the top, or so I heard. I didn’t come to town until after that era had ended.”
Of course, Holly knew all about those parties, but she played dumb.
“I can’t count how many buildings in Beauport are named after them,” Gail went on. “It’s like Pottersville from that movie…”
“It’s a Wonderful Life,” said Ethan. “We watch it every year. It’s our favorite holiday flick.”
Holly felt a stab of disappointment. We. Our. His girlfriend, or worse, his wife. She sighed on the inside. Oh well, easy come, easy go.
Gail brightened. “That’s it—the Carmichaels were the Potters of Beauport,” she said. “Only Geoffrey Carmichael, the patriarch, wasn’t so smart with his money.”
“Geoffrey died a long time ago,” Ethan said for Holly’s benefit, though she already knew.
Gail added to the history lesson. “He was quite the gambler. When he passed, the family was in financial ruin. Conrad was in college, so he wasn’t bringing in the bucks.
I guess the situation was dire—but leave it to the matriarch, Maeve Carmichael.
She plays matchmaker, marries her son off to Elizabeth Ward, daughter of Baxter Ward, founder of Ward Pharmaceuticals, and voilà—the family finances are miraculously saved.
“And then, wouldn’t you know it, Maeve and Baxter—both widowed—take up with each other.” Gail’s eyes brightened. “I’ve heard coffee shop chatter before, but this was other level. No surprise Maeve put an end to the Barefoot Beach Balls—she was no fan of the whispered talk.”
Holly cringed. “Wait … Doesn’t that make—”
“Conrad’s wife also his stepsister? Yes, it does. Hello, Pornhub,” said Gail gleefully.
“Maeve and Baxter must have been head over heels for each other to spend that much social capital on a marriage,” Holly said.
Gail shrugged. “I always took Baxter Ward for an opportunist—a dead one now. Heart attack or something, not that long ago. If you ask me, I’d say his marriage to Maeve was one of convenience.
She was a fixture on the planning board, and wouldn’t you know it, after the wedding, the town approved permits for a new Ward Pharmaceuticals plant to be built on environmentally sensitive land on the outskirts of town.
That raised some eyebrows.” She gave Holly a knowing look.
“And that wasn’t the only scandal surrounding that family. ”
This time, it was Ethan who seemed uncomfortable. “I’m sure Holly doesn’t need to be bombarded with tall tales from Beauport.”
Holly was more than ready to end the conversation.
Though her curiosity was piqued, talk of the Carmichaels was starting to give her a headache.
“Honestly, I don’t need to inspect their home.
I trust Gail’s judgment. She wouldn’t recommend a shoddy handyman to fix a house she’s hoping to list soon.
I have a small deposit I can give you to get started.
I just hope Allen Spellman is able to get the rest of the funds from the trust quickly, or I’m not going to be able to do much of anything. ”
“I’ve given Allen a lot of business,” said Gail confidently. “If he’s not responsive, let me know, and I’ll nudge him along.” Her smile was conspiratorial.
By the time they left, Holly’s headache had become much more intense. Her skull felt like a cracking dam, ready to give way to a torrent of pain.
Serena had been trying to warn her away from Beauport. Now it felt like her body was doing the same.
She searched the house, and, wouldn’t you know, she had no Advil. Holly was about to go to the store, worried she might be unable to make the drive, when Jade strolled in.
“I got a job,” she announced, brimming with excitement.
Holly bristled. For fuck’s sake, are we roommates now? She’d never wanted to live with anybody long term other than Chester. A job felt like Jade was putting down roots.
“That’s great news!” said Holly, who meant it, despite her reservations. All the while, the little drumbeat on her skull kept on thump, thump, thumping.