Chapter 21
An in-person meeting with Adam Stone hadn’t been in his plans.
Forking his fingers through his hair, Martin rose from his desk. Wiped his palms down the denim of his jeans.
Strange how his brain had turned to mush when the man called and offered to drop by to discuss lumber for the Oklahoma sets. Hard as he’d tried to fabricate an excuse to refuse an in-person meeting, nothing had come to mind.
But maybe this was for the best. Hiding behind a phone while he did what he should have done long ago would have been spineless.
He crossed to the window in his office and looked down into the work area.
Everything was running like clockwork, as usual—thanks more to Aaron’s oversight during the past two weeks than to his. It was hard to focus on business when you were worried that the marriage you’d taken for granted had crumbled beyond repair.
His supervisor came into sight on the floor, stopping to confer with an employee by the debarker.
Aaron was a good man. Reliable. Conscientious. Hard-working. He also loved the lumber business, like the Fishers did.
Well, all the Fishers except Lucas.
That’s why the idea beginning to percolate in his mind deserved serious consideration. And once he got past this weekend, he’d give it his full attention.
A knock sounded on his door, and he swung around.
Adam stood on the other side, a folder in hand.
Shifting gears, he waved the man in. “Sorry. I didn’t see you coming. With all the glass in here, I usually spot visitors as they approach.”
“No worries. I’m a few minutes early, and you seemed focused on the view.” The man entered. Paused inside the door, as if unsure of his welcome.
“Have a seat.” Martin indicated the chairs on the other side of the desk. Started toward his own seat. Hesitated. Rounded the desk instead and took the chair next to the one Adam had claimed. “Father Murphy said you could use some lumber for the show. How can I help?”
The man pulled a sheet of paper from the folder and handed it over.
“This list covers everything set-related—lumber, canvas, paint, hardware. Bob Howard is providing the paint and hardware through his store. We’re still working to find a canvas supplier.
We’d be grateful for whatever lumber you can provide. ”
Martin scanned the modest list of lumber needs. “I can take care of all of this. If you aren’t able to find a donor for the canvas, I’ll cover that expense too.”
“That’s very generous. Thank you. Any questions?”
“No.” He skimmed the list again. “Everything is straightforward.”
“This didn’t take as long as I expected.” Adam smiled. “Is there anyone in particular I should call here to work out the logistics of the donation?”
“I can be your main contact. But Aaron Steele, my supervisor, will arrange delivery of the lumber wherever you’re working on sets.”
“That would be the high school. Since the show will be in the auditorium there, it’s easiest to do construction on-site. I’ll contact Aaron and coordinate the delivery with him.” He closed the empty folder and rose. “I’m sure you’re busy. I won’t take up any more of your day. Thank you again.”
Martin stood too, pulse picking up.
Now was the time to eat crow. His least favorite food—but it was the right thing to do. And it was long overdue.
He swallowed. Cleared his throat. “Before you leave, I, uh, want to apologize for what happened a few years ago with my son. I’m sorry you took the brunt of his bad behavior. I’m also sorry I didn’t make him own up to his actions.”
Adam blinked . . . then dipped his head in acknowledgment. “I appreciate that. Fortunately, there weren’t any long-term negative consequences.”
“There could have been.”
“I try not to dwell on those. Besides, now that I’m married to the police chief, I doubt there will be any issues in the future.” His mouth twitched, a glint of humor sparking in his irises.
Conscience smarting, Martin let out a slow breath.
The ex-con turned master woodworker, whose pieces were sought by customers from all over the country, was being far more cordial than he would have been, had the situation been reversed.
“Thank you for not holding my mistake against me.”
“We all make mistakes. And you know what they say about holding a grudge. It’s like drinking poison and hoping the other person dies. I don’t want to spend my life being bitter.”
It was hard not to admire Adam’s attitude—and fortitude.
“If it makes any difference, Lucas has gotten his act together.”
“I know. He sent me a letter while he was in the juvenile facility, apologizing for trying to frame me. He told me he’d also contacted Brian Hutton, the high school classmate he tried to pull into the mess too.
Lucas and I still touch base on occasion.
Not everyone who starts down the wrong path turns their life around like he did.
You must be proud of the man he’s become. ”
Lucas had written to Adam and the Hutton kid?
Did Diane know about that?
If so, why had she never mentioned it?
As for being proud . . . yeah, he was.
And letting his anger over Lucas’s unwillingness to be part of Fisher Lumber blind him to all of the positive changes his son had made in his life had been flat-out wrong.
Adam was waiting for a response, so he dredged one up. “Yes, I am. He did an amazing one-eighty.”
And he was going to commend Lucas for that. Soon, if all went as planned.
“Please tell him I said hello.” Adam held out his hand. “Thank you again for the donation.”
“My pleasure.” He returned the man’s firm clasp, then shoved his fingers into his back pockets.
“I haven’t done carpentry work in quite a while, but if you could use another pair of hands on your set-building crew, I’d be happy to pitch in.
” Though that offer hadn’t been in his plans for this meeting, suddenly it felt right.
A succession of emotions paraded across the other man’s face. Surprise. Shock. Incredulity. “Sure. We’d be happy to have more help. I can, uh, email you the work schedule if you’d like, and any time you can squeeze us in, we’d be glad to have you join us.”
“I’ll make time.” He pulled a card from the holder on his desk and held it out. “My email is on there.”
Adam took it. “Watch for the schedule this afternoon. Enjoy the rest of your day.”
As his visitor disappeared out the door and down the hallway, toward the stairs that led to the first level of the building, Martin slowly exhaled.
The meeting he’d dreaded with the man who had every right to dislike, if not hate, him had gone far more smoothly than expected, thanks to Adam’s graciousness.
There was a lesson there about forgiveness and overcoming adversity and looking to the future instead of the past.
And it was one he intended to keep in mind as he set about reorienting his life to create a better tomorrow.
“Are you certain it’s okay for her to go back to work, Dr. Sherman? I mean, she was on a ventilator less than four weeks ago.”
As Devyn directed that question to the neurologist, Lauren sent her a dark look from the adjacent chair. The doctor’s stamp of approval on a limited return to work was fantastic news, and she was not going to let anyone nix this.
“Devyn. I’m not going back tomorrow.” Lauren leaned toward her. “Dr. Sherman said after Fourth of July. That’s almost two weeks from now. And I’ll only be assisting for two hours two days a week, until I see how I do. I’m ready for this. I feel stronger and more like myself every day.”
Her sister’s forehead crinkled. “But why rush the process or risk a setback?”
“Your concern is understandable, Devyn.” The doctor stepped back in, her manner calm.
Reasoned. “But believe me, I never advise patients to move faster than I consider prudent. Your sister has made remarkable progress, and I think her recovery will accelerate even more once she gets back to her routine. I also believe she’s smart enough to cut back if she needs to. ”
Devyn let out a slow breath. “You’re right. I just want what’s best for her.”
At the concern on her sister’s face, Lauren’s throat pinched.
Maybe they’d never been close growing up. Maybe she’d shut Devyn out of her life for years. Maybe she’d held on to resentments for too long.
But during the weeks since her sister had been in Hope Harbor, it had become clearer with each day that passed how much she wanted to reconnect.
And truth be told, she was beginning to want that too.
“Hey.” She reached out and took Devyn’s hand. Squeezed. “I know that, and I appreciate it. I also appreciate you being here for me through all this. I promise I won’t do anything to cause a setback. If two days is too much, I’ll adjust my schedule. Okay?”
Devyn squeezed back. “Sorry. I don’t mean to put a damper on happy news.” She turned toward the doctor. “What about driving?”
“I’m not ready to sign off on that yet. Lauren hasn’t had any complications like seizures that would require a legal moratorium on driving, and she aced the neurological tests I did today. But let’s take it one step at a time. I’ll reevaluate on her next visit in July.”
Lauren frowned.
No driving was a big glitch. She did have to get to and from the dental office in Coos Bay, and—
“I can take her to work until you give her the all-clear to get behind the wheel.” Devyn leaned back in her chair.
“Or I could Uber.” Lauren jumped back into the exchange. “If you take me, you’ll be on the road two hours a day.”
“Not if I stay in Coos Bay while you work. I can poke around the town, treat myself to a fancy coffee.”
The doctor stood. “I’ll let you two work out the details—but I do have one more piece of good news. You can ditch the cane, Lauren.”
“Hallelujah!” She raised a fist in the air.
“She hasn’t been using it much the past few days anyway.” Devyn sent her a pointed look.
“Snitch.” Lauren stuck out her tongue.