Chapter Ten
TEN
GIFF was whistling again. Nathan tried to identify the tune as he tackled his French toast at the breakfast counter, but this one eluded him. He could only assume Giff had wandered too deep into country-western territory for Nathan’s limited education to follow.
The man was certainly a cheerful worker, Nathan mused. And apparently he could fix anything. Nathan was certain it had taken absolute faith for Brian to ask Giff to take apart the restaurant’s dishwasher in the middle of the breakfast shift.
Now Brian was frying and grilling and stirring, Giff was whistling and tinkering with dishwasher guts, and Nathan was downing a second helping of golden French toast and apple chutney.
He couldn’t remember when he’d ever enjoyed a meal more.
“How’s it coming, Giff?” Brian stepped around Giff to set a completed order under the warmer.
“Fair to middlin’.”
“You don’t get that thing up and running by end of shift, Nate here’s going to be washing those dishes by hand.”
“I am?” Nathan swallowed the next bite. “I only used one.”
“House rules. You eat in the kitchen, you pick up the slack. Right, Giff?”
“Yep. Don’t think it’s going to come to that, though. I’ll get her.” He glanced over as Lexy swung through the door. “Yep,” he said with a grin, “I’ll get her, in my own time.”
She spared him a sidelong flick of lashes, annoyed that he managed to look so cute in a silly baseball cap and grubby T-shirt.
“Two more specials, one with ham, one with bacon. Two eggs over light, bacon, side of grits, wheat toast. Giff, keep your big feet out of the way,” she complained, stepping around them to pick up her orders under the warmer.
Giff’s grin was already spreading wide as she swung out the door again. “That sister of yours is the prettiest damn thing, Bri.”
“So you say, Giff.” Brian cracked two eggs, slid them into a skillet.
“She’s crazy about me.”
“I could tell. The way she bubbled over when she saw you was embarrassing.”
Giff snorted, tapped the handle of his screwdriver against his palm. “That’s just her way. She wants a man sniffing after her like a puppy, gets her nose up in the air when you don’t. She’ll come around. You just got to understand how a particular female works, is all.”
“Who the hell understands how any females work?” Brian gestured with his spatula at Nathan. “Do you understand, Nate?”
Nathan contemplated the next bite of French toast, watched the syrup drip lazily. “No,” he decided. “No, I can’t say that I do. And I’ve done considerable studying on the subject. You could even say I’ve dedicated a small portion of my life to it, with mixed results.”
“It’s not a matter of how they all work.” Patiently Giff began replacing screws. “You gotta focus in on the one. It’s like an engine. One don’t necessarily run the same as another, even if they’re the same make and model. They’ve just got their particular quirks. Now, Alexa ...”
He trailed off, carefully sending another screw home, selecting the next. “She’s almost too pretty for her own good. She thinks about that a lot, worries over it.”
“She’s got enough glop on her bathroom counter to paint up a Vegas chorus line,” Brian put in.
“Some women feel that’s a responsibility.
Now, Lex, she gets ticked off if a man’s not dazzled by her twenty-four hours a day, and if he is dazzled twenty-four hours a day, she figures he’s an idiot ’cause he’s not seeing anything but the surface.
The trick is to find the line, then choose the right time and place to cross it. ”
Brian flipped eggs onto a plate. It was Lexy to a tee, he mused. Contrary and annoying. “Seems like too much work to me.”
“Hell, Bri, women aren’t anything but work.” Giff flicked up the brim of his hat, dimples flashing. “That’s part of the appeal. She’ll run for you now,” he added, nodding at the dishwasher.
Gauging the time, he calculated that Lexy would be coming back in for her orders any moment.
“Ginny and me and some of the others are thinking of having a bonfire on the beach tonight,” he said casually.
“Down around by Osprey Dunes. I got a lot of scrap wood put by, and it’s going to be a clear night.
” When Lexy pushed through the door, Giff was a satisfied man.
“I thought you might want to tell your guests here, let the cottagers and campers know.”
“Know what?” Lex demanded.
“About the bonfire.”
“Tonight?” Her eyes lit as she set dishes on the counter. “Where?”
“Down around Osprey.” Giff carefully replaced his tools in his dented metal box. “You’ll come on down, won’t you, Brian?”
“I don’t know, Giff. I’ve got some paperwork to catch up on.”
“Oh, come on, Bri.” Lexy nudged him as she reached for the new orders. “Don’t be such a stick. We’ll all come.” Hoping to irritate Giff, she flashed an inviting smile at Nathan. “You’ll come down, won’t you? There’s nothing like a bonfire on the beach.”
“Wouldn’t miss it.” He slid a cautious glance at Giff, hoping the man had put his hammer away.
“Terrific.” She beamed at him as she walked by, the full-candlepower smile she saved for special occasions. “I’ll start spreading the word.”
Giff scratched his chin as he unfolded himself and rose. “No need to look so uneasy, Nate. Flirting comes naturally to Lexy.”
“Uh-huh.” Nathan eyed the toolbox, thought of all the potential weapons inside.
“Doesn’t bother me any.” At home, Giff took a biscuit out of a bowl and bit in.
“Man decides to take on a beautiful woman, he’s got to expect a little flirting on her side, a lot of looking from other men.
So you go right on and look.” Giff hefted his toolbox and winked.
“Now, you do more than look, we’d have to go around some. See you tonight.”
He went off whistling.
“You know, Bri ...” Nathan picked up his plate to carry it to the sink. “That guy has biceps like rock. I don’t believe I’m even going to look.”
“Good thinking. Now you can pay for that breakfast by loading the dishwasher.”
* * *
“I don’t feel like socializing, Kate. I’m going to do some darkroom work tonight.”
“You’re not doing any kind of work.” Kate marched over to Jo’s dresser, picked up the simple wooden-handled hairbrush, and shook it at her.
“You’re going to put on some lipstick, fix your hair, and go down to that bonfire.
You’re going to dance in the sand, drink some wine, and by God, you’re going to have a good time. ”
Before Jo could protest again, Kate held up a hand, traffic-cop style. “Save your breath, girl. I’ve already had this round with Brian, and won. You might as well just throw in the towel now.”
When she tossed the hairbrush, Jo caught it before it beaned her. “I don’t see why it matters—”
“It matters,” Kate said between her teeth and wrenched open the door on the rosewood armoire. “It matters that people in this house learn how to have a little fun now and then. When I’m through with you, I’m going to go browbeat your father.”
Jo snorted, flopped back on the bed. “Not a chance.”
“He’ll go,” Kate said grimly as she studied what there was of Jo’s wardrobe.
“If I have to knock him unconscious and drag him down to the beach. Don’t you have a blouse in here that looks remotely like you care what you have on your back?
” Disgusted, she shoved aside hangers. “Something the least bit stylish or attractive?”
Without waiting for an answer, she went to the door, calling out, “Alexa! You pick out a blouse for your sister and bring it down here.”
“I don’t want one of her shirts.” Alarmed now, Jo hopped up. “If I have to go, I’ll go in my own clothes. And I’m not going, so it doesn’t matter.”
“You’re going. Put some curl in your hair. I’m tired of seeing it just hang there.”
“I don’t have anything to put curl in it with if I wanted curl in it, which I don’t.”
“Hah!” was Kate’s only response. “Alexa, you bring that blouse and your hot rollers down here to your sister’s room.”
“You stay out of here, Lex,” Jo shouted. “Kate, I’m not sixteen years old.”
“No, you’re not.” Kate gave a decisive nod, the little gold drops in her ears bobbing at the movement.
“You’re a grown woman, and a lovely one.
It’s long past time you took some pride in it.
Now, you’re going, and you’re going to put some effort into your appearance, and I won’t take any sass about it.
Damn kids, fighting me every which way,” she muttered and swung into Jo’s bathroom.
“Not even a wand of mascara in here. You want to be a nun, enter a convent. Lipstick is not a tool of Satan.”
With a blouse slung over her shoulder and a case of hot rollers in her hand, Lexy came in. Her mood was up in anticipation of the night ahead, so she grinned and wiggled her eyebrows at Jo. “On one of her rampages?”
“Big-time one. I don’t want my hair curled.”
“Oh, loosen up, Jo Ellen.” Lexy dumped the rollers on the dresser, then checked out her own appearance in the mirror.
She’d kept the makeup subtle to suit the casual event.
In any case, firelight was terrifically flattering.
Most would be wearing jeans, she knew, so her long, flowing skirt covered with red poppies would make an interesting contrast.
“And I’m not wearing your clothes.”
“Suit yourself.” Lexy turned, pursed her lips, and gave her sister the once-over. She was feeling just good enough to be companionable. “Hmm. Frills aren’t your style.”
“Now there’s news. Just let me note that down.”
Lexy let the sarcasm roll off her perfumed shoulders and walked a slow circle around her sister. “Got a plain black T-shirt that isn’t so baggy two of you could slide into it?”
Wary, Jo nodded. “Probably.”
“Black jeans?” At Jo’s assenting shrug, Lexy tapped her finger to her lips. “That’s the way we’ll go then. Sleek and hip. Maybe some dangles at the ears and a good belt to accessorize, but that’s all. No curls, either.”
“No curls?”