Chapter 10
Logan
Texting his sister a photo of the beach had led to questions about how Logan’s job was going on Heron Isle. He knew she worried about him after what had happened in San Diego.
“It’s going well so far,” he told her, and it wasn’t a lie.
For the first time since he was announced as the consultant Heron Isle had hired to solve their waterfront predicament, Logan really did feel good about the direction it was all headed. His step was a little lighter after he’d visited Missy at the flower shop and then caught Mel, the owner of the general store, as he was opening for the day. They’d both been receptive to his idea of attracting a small line of cruise ships to make Heron Isle one of its ports.
Logan had worked with the cruise line on the Baltimore job. They’d organized a multi-day cruise around Chesapeake Bay with stops in towns like Yorktown, Cambridge, and St. Michaels to help spread out the tourists. The businesses in those towns had been happy to receive the new visitors, and he thought he could do the same for Heron Isle. The guys at the cruise line had been intrigued, but they didn’t have any other stops nearby. He knew that meant all the tourists would descend on Heron Isle, and then Lucy might be right that it would be more of an influx of people than their downtown could bear. Maybe there were ways to trolley them to other parts of the island. He had some time to flesh it out.
The cruise idea had been an easy sell to Missy and Mel. He’d had the idea to bake some incentives into the contract, which he’d already discussed with the cruise line. The ship would purchase floral arrangements from Missy for its dining-room tables and VIP cabins each time it stopped in port, and Mel would get increased foot traffic as passengers disembarked and stocked up on everything from sunscreen to soda and snacks.
Logan caught himself whistling as he walked down Main Street and ran into the mayor. Like a needle to a balloon, their conversation immediately deflated him. The mayor wanted him and Lucy to host community forums. Two words every local-government consultant feared the most. It was impossible to make everyone happy, so the best anyone could hope for was a consensus, and even that was often challenging.
The mayor insisted the downtown business owners and the conservancy were the largest opposition groups, so if he could get them on board he’d be on the right track. Logan had been able to discuss things civilly with Lucy the previous day, and she was far from the worst person he’d ever been forced to spend time with on a project. In fact, she was cute when she wasn’t mad at him. Unfortunately, she’d pretty much hated him since the instant she found out why he was on Heron Isle.
Knowing they needed to find some mutually agreeable dates, Logan changed directions and headed over to the bookstore. He spent the short walk trying to find a way to frame their new situation that she wouldn’t completely hate.
When he entered the store, he immediately spotted Lucy helping an older woman by the shelves that ran alongside the left wall of the store. She was tucking a blonde curl behind her ear, smiling, and nodding as the customer spoke. Lucy glanced toward the door when the woman paused to look at the book Lucy had handed her. As soon as she saw him, her smile disappeared as if someone had flipped a switch, and his optimism was immediately dashed. Her shoulders stiffened and she politely told the woman she’d be nearby if she needed any other recommendations.
Logan wanted Lucy to understand he wasn’t a bad person. That change wasn’t bad. This was why he’d always preferred jobs in bigger cities. People in small towns seemed to take change far more personally, like his father and the other farmers in Berlin had. He couldn’t let Heron Isle make the same mistakes he’d watched decimate his hometown.
He flashed his best smile at Lucy as she crossed the floor to where he stood near the counter, the heart-pine floorboards moaning and creaking under even her small frame. He imagined how many people must have walked across these same floorboards over the past one hundred and fifty years.
That was it! He loved the history here too. He just needed her to see that side of him.
“This is quite the place you’ve got here.” He looked around the room in a way he hoped showed his appreciation for it. As he glanced toward the back of the store, he noticed the ceiling for the first time. It looked like hand-stamped tin. He pointed up. “Are those original?”
She followed his gaze. “They are. So are the floors.”
He couldn’t read her even expression, but if her first reaction when she’d noticed him by the door was any indication, she was not happy to see him. He knew they hadn’t agreed on everything when they chatted on the docks the day before, but he thought the conversation had gone well overall and they’d broken the ice.
The customer was approaching the counter with her selections.
“I’ll just look around for a minute.” He nodded to the woman as he excused himself then wandered toward the shelves. He ran a hand over the edge of a shelf. They looked like they were handmade from heart pine too. A ladder hung at the far end of the shelves near the front window with a small sign attached that said: “Please do not climb.” He’d always dreamed of having a library in his house one day, and he’d even pictured having shelves that went to the ceiling like this with a ladder to reach the top. Unfortunately, his job didn’t lend itself to him having a permanent address, so the library of his dreams would have to remain just that, a dream. It was for the best. When someone stayed in one place too long they got stagnant, stuck in their ways. He would not become his father.
Logan moved to one of the shorter shelves that ran perpendicular to the wall, pretending to be interested in a thriller as he eavesdropped on Lucy’s conversation with the customer to distract himself from the memories of his father. The woman was asking if Lucy had a website where she could order books after she left Heron Isle.
“Unfortunately, I’m pretty useless when it comes to technology. But call me anytime. I’d be happy to ship you anything you’d like or make some recommendations.” The voice she used with the customer was much warmer than the one he’d been greeted with.
“Thank you, dear. I’m so glad you kept the store open after Annie passed. She was such a remarkable woman. Do you know she always remembered what kinds of books I liked and would have a couple sitting aside for me, ready for my arrival each June?” The woman shook her head. “You just don’t get that kind of service from those big corporate stores or ordering online.”
“Well, now that I know what you like, I’ll be sure to save some of my favorites for you, Mrs. Frances.” Lucy patted the woman’s hand where it rested on the counter. “Thank you for continuing to visit us every year. Just call me if you need to me to ship you anything in the meantime.”
The woman thanked Lucy and left with her bag of books. Lucy busied herself writing in a notebook on the counter, either having forgotten about Logan or purposely avoiding him.
“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but if you need a website, I know a great guy. I bet a lot of your seasonal customers would buy from you online, especially ones like that who’ve been coming here for years.” He walked up to the counter, curious what she was scribbling.
“I do just fine without a website.” She quickly closed the notebook. “If someone wants a book they call and I mail it. It’s more personal that way.” Gone was the warm tone she’d used with the woman, replaced by something more clipped that felt like standing in front of an open freezer door.
Holding up a hand in mock surrender, he softened his tone. “I’m not saying stop taking phone orders. You could just add online ordering for those who prefer it. What if someone wants to order something late at night or before you open in the morning?”
“Then they leave me a message.” She nodded toward a desk phone on the far end of the counter. “I’ve got an answering machine.”
“You don’t mean the kind with a tape—” He was joking because she’d called it an answering machine instead of voice mail, but midway through his sentence he spotted something that look suspiciously like an answering machine straight out of the 1990s next to the phone. “Seriously?” He reached across the counter to pick up the antiquated device. “This thing still works?”
“Yes, it works perfectly.”
He chuckled. “And what are you doing there? Do you keep track of your sales by hand too?”
“Yes, it’s called tracking my inventory.”
It was as if he’d stumbled into a time warp. “You have a computer.” He motioned toward the monitor on the counter next to her. “I know they make software specifically for bookstores to track their inventory.”
“I’m sure they do, but this way works for me.” She shrugged. “This shop was here for a long time before computers ever existed, and we’ve always managed just fine.”
“What do you use the computer for then?” He was genuinely curious. He’d never met someone her age—he’d pegged her to be in her early thirties—who was so opposed to modern technology.
“It runs the register. I check my email and place my new orders. Sometimes I use it to help a customer find a book.”
“From bookstores who actually have their inventory online for people to purchase?” He kept his tone light so she’d know he was jokingly pointing out that she’d made his point for him.
She scowled at him. “Is there a reason you’re here?”
“Mayor Jenkins said he told you about the community forums. I thought we should compare calendars and find some dates that work for both of us.” He pulled out his smart phone so he could access his calendar. “Wait. Let me guess. You’ve got one of those fancy notebook planners in your purse where you write your appointments by hand next to a quote of the day.”
She had her purse halfway up to the counter from where she’d been storing it underneath when she shoved it back in its hiding place. She folded her arms against her chest, her mouth a thin line.
“I can make myself available. Just tell me when you want to hold them.”
“You do!” He was smiling now as he leaned over the counter, trying to peek underneath. “You have one of those planners, don’t you? Let me see.”
“Off my counter, please.” The corners of her mouth were turning slightly, just enough that he knew she was trying her best not to smile. She pointed to the phone still in his hand. “Tap away on your little device there and just tell me some dates. We should hold them at night when most people are off work and can attend, and maybe at least one on a weekend for people who can’t get away during the week.”
As he was looking through the town calendar on his phone to make sure they wouldn’t conflict with other meetings, something rubbed against his leg, and he jumped.
Lucy giggled as she leaned over the counter. “Don’t worry, that’s just Lizzy. She doesn’t bite.” She paused. “At least not people she likes. I haven’t told her about you yet, so you should be safe.”
He reached down to pet the cat, her sleek gray fur reminding him of a seal. She had a little bit of white on her nose, down her chest, and on her feet, and she purred almost immediately when he began stroking her back.
“She’s yours?”
“More or less. I adopted her, but she really belongs to the store.”
“A guard cat?” He smiled up at her.
“Sort of. Only she guards against mice, not burglars. Lots of bookstores used to have cats to keep away pests. Plus, the kids love them.”
“Them? There’s more than one?”
Lizzy rubbed her head against his hand as she walked back and forth in front of where he now kneeled.
“There’s one more, but she’s a little shyer than this one. Lizzy likes anyone who will pet her. She’s not all that discerning.”
He knew it was a jab at him, but her voice had been light when she said it. The cat seemed to notice Lucy’s voice and leaped up to the counter, nuzzling into her hand as she held it out.
He watched her hand gently caressing the cat, its back arching in pleasure. He caught himself thinking about what her fingers would feel like on his skin and forced himself to look back down at his phone.
“What about next Wednesday for the first one?” His voice came out husky and he cleared his throat. “That gives us a week.”
“Sure.” She shooed the cat off the counter and grabbed a sticky note to write on as he proposed a few other dates over the coming weeks. “These should work. I’ll get the word out on my end. I’m sure you can have someone at the city put out an official announcement.”
“You’re not going to use a phone tree, are you?” He couldn’t help teasing her. It was just too easy.
“Very funny. We have a group email thread for the downtown business owners.” The light that had been in her eyes grew dark, all traces of the smile wiped from her face. “I hear you’re still pursuing the cruise ship idea. If you insist on doing a presentation from them, I’d appreciate you letting me know so I can bring in an environmental expert to give the other side of the argument.” She was all business again, her tone clipped.
“Lucy, I know you don’t agree with me on the cruise idea, but I think you might feel differently after you hear from them.”
“I doubt it, but obviously it’s not up to me. I know you already charmed your way into getting Missy on board, but not everyone in this town will fold so easily just because you’re handsome.” As if realizing what she’d just said, her cheeks flushed, and she quickly busied herself straightening a perfectly organized stack of papers on the counter.
Her admission made a warmth spread across his chest, and he couldn’t resist acknowledging the comment.
“You think I’m handsome?”
“Oh, stop it with the fake modesty. You know you’re good-looking, and I’m sure you use it to your advantage everywhere you go.”
He loved the way she pursed her lips and knitted her eyebrows together when she was irritated with him. It made her cupid’s bow more pronounced, and then all he could think about was what it would be like to kiss those lips.
Of course, that would never happen. She saw him as the enemy of everything she cared about, and he certainly wasn’t going to make the same mistake again and start dating someone involved in his project.
He quickly changed gears. He’d had an idea. “Hey, what are you doing when you close up?”
She glanced at the door, as if willing someone to come in and give her an excuse to be rid of him. Looking back, she searched his eyes as if looking for clues.
“Well, I guess now I have to get the word out about these meetings. Figure out who you’ve already talked to so I can do some damage control.” She crossed her arms.
He looked at the door where her hours were hand-painted onto the glass. “You close at six. Meet me at the corner of Main and West Second when you’re done closing up.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Why would I go anywhere with you?” The defensiveness was gone from her voice, replaced by what seemed like genuine curiosity.
“You’ll like it. I promise. And if you don’t, you can leave. But if you stay, we can grab dinner after, and I’ll tell you about some of my ideas that don’t involve cruise ships.”
Her eyes narrowed. She looked as if she was mentally making a list of pros and cons.
“Come on. What do you have to lose?” He looked directly in her eyes, challenging her.
“Fine.” She threw up her hands. “I’ll go. You’re not going to take me out on a boat and make me disappear or something, are you? Get rid of your opposition?”
He shook his head, laughing. “I think you’ve read one too many books. Maybe lay off the thrillers. There’s no boat involved. Scout’s honor.” He held up a hand in the scout pledge.
The corners of her mouth were turning up ever so slightly again. He could make her smile if she’d just stop seeing him as the villain in her story. He had to show her they weren’t that different if he was ever going to get her on board with his plans, and he thought he knew exactly where to start.