Chapter Two #2
“Okay. Since I haven’t found my passwords yet, if you just give me her cell phone number, I can call her.
The only number in my phone is an old landline, but I never cared because we just talked on Facebook.
” He didn’t even blink, but he gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head, as if he was silently talking to himself.
“You’re seriously not going to give me my own grandmother’s number? ”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she heard how they sounded. Hopefully, he wouldn’t throw back in her face the fact that if she was a good granddaughter, she wouldn’t need to get the number from a veritable stranger.
“I’d like to talk to her first,” he said.
“Why? I mean, we could talk to her together if you want, on speakerphone.” He was quiet so long, she put the pieces together. “You don’t trust me.”
“I don’t know you.”
That was fair. “Whether she tells you to tell me I can’t stay or I hear it from her directly, it’ll still suck.”
“The difference is that she’ll be honest with me. She might not be able to bring herself to tell you no.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Or you want a chance to convince her you can’t work on the cottage with me there. And since you’ve already torn apart the second bedroom, she can’t really tell you no.”
“That’s not the conversation that’s going to happen.”
She crossed her arms, her eyebrow arching. “Maybe I don’t trust you, either.”
“Okay.”
Frustrated, Lucy took a sip of her coffee. Then she watched Nick pull the salt, pepper and ketchup bottle from the condiment rack. Ketchup?
“I can’t believe I blindly ordered the same breakfast as a man who likes bologna and tomato sandwiches.”
He almost smiled.
* * *
Nick should have told Lucy she hadn’t grabbed one of her grandmother’s hooded sweatshirts.
The hoodie was his. Her first clue should have been the size. Helen would have to wear it like a belted dress. And also, the Slater & Sons Construction printed on it could have been a clue, but she might not have remembered he’d given her his last name in the confusion last night.
In the moment, he hadn’t had the heart to mention it. She looked warm and cozy, and it was better than the possible alternative of her walking into Pete’s wrapped in blankets.
What he hadn’t foreseen was how distracting it would be to sit across from a beautiful woman wearing a hoodie that belonged to him.
It even had his last name on it. That particular sweatshirt was his favorite, actually, because it was the last of their original order.
His brother had found a cheaper supplier and though he insisted the fabric and fit were the same, Nick disagreed.
“You’re staring at me,” she muttered.
Because you’re wearing my favorite hoodie. “You’re sitting across from me. It would be weird if I sat here staring at the ceiling. Hard to drink my coffee that way, too.”
“See? Grumpy.”
He pulled the trifold menu out of the holder and stood it up between them. It wasn’t quite tall enough, but he scrunched down in his seat until it blocked their eye contact.
She laughed as she grabbed the menu and folded it back up. He almost laughed with her, but his phone vibrated in his pocket, and he pulled it out to see Helen’s name on the screen. There was no way she’d already heard he was at Pete’s with a redhead who might be her granddaughter.
Then again, news traveled fast in Wayward Harbor.
“It’s my brother,” he lied, sliding toward the end of the booth. “I need to step out and take this really quick.”
She nodded, and he accepted the call when he was halfway to the door so it wouldn’t go to voicemail. “Hey, I was going to call you later.”
“I beat you to it,” she said, and the warmth in her voice made his lips curve a little as he slipped outside. “I just wanted to check in and see how you’re doing and if you have everything you need in the cottage.”
He had everything he needed, plus some. “I’m good. But your granddaughter showed up late last night. She slept on the couch because I’ve already torn into the second bedroom.”
“Lucy’s with you?” He heard the rush of a relieved breath. “I’ve been so worried. I heard about some nonsense online, and I’ve sent her several Facebook messages, but she hasn’t responded. That’s when I realized I don’t have her cell number.”
Nonsense online? “She said something about deleting all the apps off her phone and she hasn’t found her passwords yet.”
“Honestly, I called you because I’m putting off working up the energy to call Iris and see if she has Lucy’s number. One would assume she’d know how to reach her daughter, but…it’s Iris.”
“Lucy asked me for your number, but I wanted to talk to you first. I can send her down the road if you’re not comfortable with her being here.”
“I’m not sending my granddaughter down the road, Nick Slater.
Not without a reason, anyway. Give her my number and tell her to call me.
She can video call if she wants because we’re having a stay-home day.
But you have to be okay with it, too. I already told you the cottage was yours for the summer. ”
Nick stifled the weary sigh and settled for closing his eyes for a few seconds. “It’s your cottage, and she’s your granddaughter. I can make it work if that’s what you want.”
“For now, if you’re sure. The poor girl needs a safe place to land right now. You’ll keep an eye on her, right? Make sure she’s okay?”
Nick pinched the bridge of his nose. “I won’t let you down, Helen.”
The promise landed like a boulder on top of the weight his shoulders already carried, but he wouldn’t let her down. He didn’t let anybody down.
Not anymore.
“And Nick? Don’t say anything about those old Iris rumors, okay? I don’t think the poor child needs anything else on her plate right now.”
“I understand.” He wasn’t sure he agreed, but he’d follow Helen’s lead.
Once they hung up, he went back inside, just in time to watch Pete set their plates on the table. He nodded his thanks and, after Pete was done, slid into his seat and looked at his plate. Two blueberry pancakes, two scrambled eggs, bacon and home fries. Just the way he liked them.
Lucy already had a chunk of pancake on her fork. “You make good breakfast choices. Though I should have asked for a half order of whatever you got because this is a lot of food for somebody who’s not—”
When she waved her hand toward him, he frowned. “Somebody who’s not what?”
“You know, almost six feet tall.”
He snorted and grabbed the ketchup to squeeze some on his scrambled eggs. Lucy wrinkled her nose, but thankfully kept her opinions to herself this time.
They ate in complete silence, and when Pete brought the check, he waved off her attempt to pay for his breakfast. He wasn’t sure what her financial situation was and, until he knew more about her, he wasn’t going to let her spend money on him.
“You can owe me one,” was all he said, and then—nodding to Pete and ignoring all the curious looks sent their way—they left and walked back to the truck.
“We can stop at the market,” he said. “Just grab what you need for now. At some point, if necessary, there’s a bigger—and cheaper—grocery store a few towns over.”
The hood and sunglasses were firmly in place when they walked into the small local market, and they stayed in place, which amused him because the lighting wasn’t great in some of the aisles.
He made sure to buy more bologna and several tomatoes, just because it made her laugh again. They got some staples, like bread and a new jug of milk. She was big into fruits and vegetables, and she grabbed several packages of chicken to divide up and freeze.
By the time they reached the register, she’d tucked the sunglasses into the pocket of her—actually his—sweatshirt and dropped the hood.
The curls captured in the bun were still damp, but the wisps around her face were frizzy from having the hood up all morning, and he wondered if they were as soft as they looked.
They split the cost of groceries in half, with Lucy giving him cash to cover her portion, and when they got back to his truck, she took each bag out of the cart so he could put it in the back seat.
They’d just finished when a girl whose parents he knew pretty well spotted them and stopped in her tracks, staring at Lucy.
“Ohmigosh,” the teen said breathlessly. “You’re her!”
Lucy shrank back as the girl pulled her phone out of her back pocket, and Nick stepped forward. “Felicity, don’t do that.”
“But, I just—”
“This is Helen Griffin’s granddaughter, and I just know you’re not going to violate her privacy in any way.”
He didn’t like bringing Helen’s name into whatever was going on, but it was the only way he could think of to keep Felicity from taking a selfie or a video or whatever else she was going to do that had drained the color from Lucy’s face.
He watched the teen walk away, and though she looked back a couple of times, her phone stayed in her pocket.
Lucy was already in the passenger seat of his truck, hood up and sunglasses on.
She’d told him she wasn’t a fugitive and she wasn’t running from an ex, but if Felicity recognized her on the street in a town Lucy hadn’t been to since around the time the girl was born, it had to be something big.
“Thank you,” she said in a quiet voice when he climbed into the driver’s seat and shut his door. “I guess I should have left the hood up, but I was getting hot.”
“We’re going home,” he said as he turned the key, immediately regretting the harsh tone. “And you’re going to tell me everything.”