Chapter 11
Lucy
As Lucy flipped the sign on the front door to “Closed”—the same sign Annie had used for decades—she thought about her friend’s other practices she’d simply adopted and never changed. When she’d taken over the store, she hadn’t wanted to change anything because it made her feel as if Annie was still there. She hadn’t wanted to share such personal details with Logan, so she’d let him tease her and her backward ways. Who cared what he thought of her business anyway?
Approaching the corner of West Second and Main after leaving the store, she spotted Logan ahead speaking to Gladys Holcombe, the director of the local foundation charged with preserving the town’s history and administering the preservation program for buildings in the historic district downtown.
“Lucy.” Gladys held out her arms to embrace her. “It’s lovely to see you. When Logan told me you were tagging along for our little walk, I was just tickled pink.”
Lucy smiled as she hugged the petite older lady, who was decked out as if she was going to high tea instead of on a walk.
“A walk, huh?” She narrowed her eyes at Logan. “And what kind of walk are we going on today? I’m a bit out of the loop I’m afraid.” She smiled back at Gladys.
“Why, a historic downtown Heron Isle tour, of course. My favorite.” Her eyes sparkled as if she was seeing the historic buildings for the first time instead of being the island’s foremost expert on their history.
“I thought perhaps a history lesson might do me some good as I help the town plan for its future.” Logan shot Gladys one of his thousand-watt smiles.
Lucy could almost see the older woman swooning. Geez, even Gladys, who had children older than Logan, fell victim to his charm.
“I already know the town’s history. Why invite me?” Lucy said.
“I thought a walk around town might give us some new ideas for the waterfront.” He shrugged as if he had nothing but innocent intentions.
Gladys nodded, her face growing more serious. “It’s such an important project. Did you know the land that runs along the waterfront used to be nothing but giant stacks of lumber? Timber was plentiful here, and it was easy for the early settlers to extract and ship to distant ports.”
“The buildings on Main Street were all built from heart pine in the 1820s when the Spanish first took control of the island from the French.” Lucy recited what she’d been taught about the town’s founding as the three began walking south down the sidewalk back toward her store.
“The only problem was that having all that wood downtown made it like a giant pile of kindling. A lightning strike took out a large portion of the original buildings in the 1850s, and then the Union Army started a fire in the rail depot that used to sit downtown, and it took out many of the remaining buildings in the early 1860s.”
“That’s right.” Gladys nodded, smiling like a teacher who was proud of her star pupil.
Gladys stopped as she approached the corner of Third and Main in front of the Kittredge Building, which housed a small shop on the ground floor that sold homemade candles, soaps, and a variety of decorative goods.
“This is a good shop if you need to buy a gift for your mother or a sister. Or perhaps a sweetheart?” Gladys raised an eyebrow in Logan’s direction before cutting her eyes toward Lucy.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said.
His face revealed nothing about his current relationship status, and Lucy couldn’t imagine what sort of woman Logan might be interested in. He was hard to read. At first, she’d thought he probably lived in a high-rise with a doorman and a stark modern design. But after hearing he had grown up in a small Midwestern town and minored in historic preservation she was less certain. Possibly even intrigued.
“That brings us to Lucy’s building.” Gladys stopped as they approached. “It’s one of the finest examples we have of the Italianate influences on many of the structures built just after the last big fire. You can see it in the arched doorways and windows and the decorative brickwork up on the cornices.” She pointed up.
“It’s a beauty, that’s for sure.” Logan stepped back so he could take in more of the building, and Lucy caught herself studying how his jaw twitched when he was deep in thought and had to force her eyes up to the cornices.
“You really should go in sometime. The hand-carved heart pine is just magnificent going up the staircase. You’ve got the clothing boutique here on this corner and, of course, Lucy’s store sits on the other end. In the middle”—Gladys pointed at a nondescript door—“there’s a staircase that goes up to the second-floor offices. The woodwork in this building is simply divine. Have you seen the bookshelves in Lucy’s shop?”
“Yes, just today. They looked like heart pine as well.”
“They date back to the late 1800s when Annie’s—the last owner, bless her, may she rest in peace—grandfather opened the town’s first bookstore. The shelves, the floors, the ceiling, it’s all original.” The pride in Gladys’s voice and on her face would make anyone think her family was responsible for the preservation.
“It’s a really remarkable building.” Logan’s eyes narrowed as he studied the decorative brickwork on the cornices above them.
“And for sale, apparently.” Gladys clucked her tongue. “I always worry when one of the original ones goes up for sale. You never know who might swoop in to buy it or what they’ll do with it. As you know, historic protection only extends so far. At the end of the day, it’s still private property, and owners do what they will with it.”
Lucy bit her lip. She’d tried to look into buying the building, but the whole process had been overwhelming. It wasn’t like buying a house. The bank wanted a business plan that accounted for the reserves necessary to keep up a building of this age for decades to come, and they’d wanted her beach cottage as additional collateral since she’d never owned commercial property or been a landlord.
She hadn’t officially withdrawn her application, but she couldn’t imagine having the time to work on that and the waterfront development and in her store. Part of her still really wanted to get the building back in local hands. The current owner was an out-of-town investor. He’d been interested in the lucrative historic preservation tax credits available when the building needed major renovations in the nineties, but he was ready to move it out of his portfolio before it required more updates.
Lucy felt Logan’s eyes on her as if he was waiting for her to say something. He couldn’t know she’d been interested in the building herself. Still, she had an odd sense that he knew something. She fidgeted with the anchor charm on her necklace as she turned back to Gladys.
“I’m sure we’ll get another great owner.”
“Yes, dear. I hope so.” Gladys smiled at her sweetly.
Lucy couldn’t imagine how much change Gladys must have seen during her lifetime here on Heron Isle. Lucy would ask her later about her thoughts on the waterfront. She didn’t want to do it in front of Logan and give him the chance to sway her with his dimpled smile and smooth talking.
They moved on to the post office before walking to the top of the square and crossing to the other side. As they went from building to building, Logan asked thoughtful questions and remarked on tiny details hardly anyone ever noticed. It was clear he’d taken his minor in historic preservation seriously. So why this choice of career? It sounded like he’d been involved in a lot more development than preservation, but maybe she didn’t have the whole story. She’d have to do some digging later.
As they crossed over East Fifth Street, Gladys pointed to a two-story Victorian a few doors down. “The Foundation is looking to buy that one to preserve, but we’re a long way from our fundraising goal.”
Lucy hadn’t walked down that way in months, but she knew the place. The Hill House was one of the rare properties downtown that was unkempt. The owner had passed away several years ago and his next of kin had fought over the estate ever since because he hadn’t had a will. The city sent someone to mow the yard and pull the weeds every month after sending numerous letters threatening fines for violating ordinances in the historic district and receiving no reply. The man’s nieces and nephews were all fighting over who should buy out whose share of the house, but none of them seemed to have any interest in coming to town to take care of it.
“I do hope it falls into the right hands.” Lucy followed Gladys and Logan down the sidewalk to get a closer look.
“Do you ever wonder if an old building like this has a soul? Almost like it’s a living, breathing being?”
Logan was looking up at the house with such adoration that Lucy couldn’t peel her eyes away even to follow his gaze to what had caught his attention. His green eyes were studying the porch carefully, as if it was something he wanted to reach out and touch, but was holding himself back from doing.
He was looking at it with more longing than Carter had ever looked at her, and something inside her wished Logan was looking at her that way. Which was, of course, preposterous. Logan was off limits. He was her opposition, and hopefully he’d be heading back to some big city as soon as she convinced the town to do something worthwhile with the waterfront.
“Do you see that gingerbread detailing?” He pointed toward the porch. “Someone had to have not only the patience, but also the artistic skill, to carve it all by hand. They were an artist every bit as much as Monet or Renoir, but no one signs a porch or gets to see it hang in a museum one day. Most people just walk right by and say, ‘Oh, what a pretty house,’ and keep on walking.” He shook his head as if those people were completely dense. “No one makes anything like that by hand anymore. They just throw up some spindles under the railing and call it a day.”
Lucy was so surprised by his passion for the subject that she didn’t quite know what to say. As much as she appreciated the buildings that made up Heron Isle’s historic district, she was guilty of walking by quickly on her way to the post office or bank and not stopping to appreciate the small details. She made a mental note to walk a little slower from now on and take in her surroundings. She knew she was lucky to live in a place like Heron Isle that had preserved so much of its history. That was why the waterfront project was so important to her. Heron Isle had always been here for her, and now she needed to be there for it.
Maybe she and Logan weren’t so different. She was glad he’d invited her along on the tour and let her see this side of him. Maybe they could find some common ground after all.
Since she hadn’t spent much time on the beach this summer due to being so busy looking into buying her building and fighting the waterfront development, Lucy suggested she and Logan go to dinner at the Sand Dollar. It was a casual restaurant, with outdoor dining behind the building, in a sandy patch separated from the ocean only by a few short dunes. A favorite of locals and tourists alike.
As the hostess showed them to a table near the dunes, their feet sank into the sand with every step. She had on sandals, but Logan was no doubt getting sand in his shoes. They looked like the expensive kind of boat shoes that aren’t ever actually worn on a boat, but he didn’t seem to mind.
“So what’s good here?” He peered over the top of the menu when the hostess left the table.
“Everything. Well, assuming you like seafood. You do like seafood, right?”
“Love it. Point me in the right direction.”
“Well, the shrimp is Mayport, caught right here in the waters around the island. You can get it grilled or fried, over pasta or grits. You can’t go wrong. Grouper, snapper, mahi,” she read down the list of the night’s specials. “Everything is caught locally. You’ll never find anything frozen here.”
When the server came by the table, they each ordered a glass of white wine. Logan set his menu on the table and folded his hands neatly in front of him.
“Was I right? You had a good time on the tour, didn’t you?”
“Yes. It definitely beat a one-way boat trip where I ended up sleeping with the fishes.” She smiled over her menu at him. She knew what she was going to order, but she kept the menu up so she could pretend to concentrate on something other than him. Every time his eyes met hers, she felt a little tingle creep across her chest, and she worried it was her resolve crumbling. She had to keep her wits about her with someone like him.
He laughed. “Is that what you like to read? Thrillers where someone ends up dead in the water?”
“I just finished One by One by Ruth Ware. Sooo good,” she said with a satisfied sigh. “If you like thrillers, I highly recommend it. Are you much of a reader?”
The server interrupted to deliver their wine and take their orders. She’d just left when Lucy spotted an osprey flying away from the ocean.
“Look, there’s your fresh fish.” She giggled when he looked up and his eyes widened at the sight of the fish wriggling in the bird’s talons.
“If that’s how you people are getting your fish, maybe you were right about needing the open-air market downtown.” He smiled and leaned back in his chair after taking a sip of his wine.
“Is that really on the table?” She pushed at her silverware, moving each piece until the bottoms were lined up perfectly.
“Sure, why not?” He shrugged. “As far as I’m concerned, all suggestions are on the table.”
“Does that mean the casino boat is still on the table too?”
“It’s a harder sell to the downtown restaurant owners since it provides direct competition, but I haven’t ruled anything out yet. I think we need all the options on the table so we can make informed decisions.”
As she sipped her wine, she looked out past the dunes where the tide was so high she could hear the waves breaking, but couldn’t actually see them. Long streaks of clouds swept across the sky like paint strokes, beginning to turn pastel shades of pink and purple as they reflected the sun’s descent on the western side of the island.
Lucy remembered how comforting it was when she’d moved home and driven over the bridge in her small moving truck to find everything exactly how she’d left it. Now that she was here, it was up to her to make sure it stayed that way. That the people who came time and again could come back and still find what they loved about it.
When she looked back at him, Logan was swirling his wine, squinting at her like he wanted to say something, but was holding back.
“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” She tucked a curl behind her ear self-consciously.
“I want to ask you something, but I have a feeling I know how you’re going to react.”
“Is that so? I can’t wait to hear how well you think you know me.” She let out a nervous laugh because when he looked at her with those emerald-green eyes, she really did feel he could read her every thought.
“Yes. I think you’re going to get defensive. You’ll probably tell me to mind my own business, but I think that would be a mistake.”
“Okay.” She dragged out the word as if it had three syllables. “Now I’m really intrigued.”
“Just don’t jump from intrigued to angry. Deal?” His eyes challenged her, daring her to trust him.
“Sure. Now, out with it.” She gripped the arms of her chair, bracing for his next ill-advised plan for the waterfront. What was he going to propose this time? Maybe they could start loading shipping containers at the marina, stacking them all along the waterfront like working ports did in other places.
“I knew your building was for sale before our walk with Gladys. Mayor Jenkins told me yesterday.” He paused, searching her face for a reaction.
Her first thought was that somehow, someway he wanted to buy it. Her mind started racing. What would he be like as a building owner? Would he renew her lease next year? Would it mean he was staying in town? Had he somehow fallen in love with the town and truly wanted to stay and make it better?
No, that was ridiculous. She searched his eyes, but he wasn’t giving anything away. Her heart was pounding. What was this about?
“Yes… and?”
Logan took a sip of his wine. “He also may have let it slip that you were interested in buying the building yourself.”
Her heart slammed against her chest. That wasn’t what she’d been expecting. She cleared her throat, grabbing her glass of water for a drink.
“It’s more of a dream than an actual effort.” She wasn’t about to tell him how overwhelmed she’d been at the bank when they peppered her with questions about its renovation history, her proposed schedule for the maintenance a building that age needed, and her knowledge of the tax credits available for the work. She’d known so few of the answers that she’d left feeling embarrassed and overwhelmed. She knew Jerry—the banker she’d known since grade school—hadn’t meant anything by it. He was just doing his job. But he’d made her realize how little she knew about owning a historic building versus merely appreciating it.
“Why do you think it’s just a dream?” He placed his arms on the table and leaned in, his eyes watching her carefully.
She fingered the anchor on her necklace and glanced at the family at the table to her right. A toddler was on the ground next to the table pushing a tiny dump truck through the sand. She concentrated on him to avoid looking at Logan.
“It was just silly, really. I don’t know what made me think I could manage a whole building. I don’t know anything about having tenants or maintaining a historic building.”
“You do know how you eat an elephant, right?” His tone was playful. “One bite at a time. What scares you about owning the building and being a landlord? Let’s go through your objections one by one.”
She looked out at the dunes, deliberating on whether she wanted to share her fears with someone she barely knew. Part of her still really wanted the building, and maybe Logan would have some helpful insights. After all, he was a lawyer and consulted with local governments. He seemed like a pretty smart guy.
Remembering the quote Gatsby’s Ghost marked in the latest book about how hesitation triggered the brain to stop action, she decided to be brave and share with Logan. Maybe Gatsby’s Ghost was on to something. Maybe she was the only thing holding her back.
She told him about the other tenants having leases coming up for renewal in the next year, and how she wasn’t sure how much to price their rent in a new lease. The previous owner had mentioned he had reserves for things like replacing the roof and air-conditioning units, but she wouldn’t have that kind of money up front and worried she might be getting in over her head. She’d worked up a business plan from a template she and Taylor found online, but the bank wanted her to come back with something far more detailed than the template since it hadn’t specifically been for a historic building.
Logan listened to all her concerns respectfully, and then said, “I don’t mean to pry, so you can tell me to shut up if you want.” He continued when she didn’t stop him. “Would you have the kind of cash you’d need to put down on a building like that?”
It was a personal question, but living in a small town, she was used to other people being in her business. Shoving hesitation away, she took a deep breath and dove into the deep end.
“I inherited a little when my dad passed, and the mortgage on my beach cottage is paid off. It’s where I grew up.” She decided to keep going in case he thought to ask about her mother. That definitely crossed the line into something way too personal. “Annie—the woman who owned the bookstore before me—left me what little she had along with the store. She never had kids and didn’t have any other family to speak of.” The words tumbled out before she realized how much she was telling him. She fidgeted with one of her earrings, looking back out at where the ocean met the horizon.
Logan let out a whoosh of breath. “Wow, you’ve had a lot of loss in your life, huh?” He leaned back in his chair, as if he needed a moment to gather his thoughts.
She bit her lip. He had no idea. “It is what it is. Obviously, I’d give up the cottage and the bookstore to have Dad and Annie back in my life again, but I’m incredibly grateful for the legacy they both left behind. They gave me my life here.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, who was Annie to you?”
“She was family. Not the blood kind, but the family you choose kind. My childhood—” she paused, asking herself again why she was divulging so much to him so easily and coached herself to dial it back. “It was complicated. Although I couldn’t always afford to buy a new book, the bookstore was my favorite place to be because of Annie. There was just something about her. She always knew exactly what someone needed to hear, whether it was from her or in a book she suggested. I worked there in high school, and she’s the reason I wanted to become a librarian. That’s what I did before she passed and left me the bookstore.”
Logan was quiet, so she continued, the wine clearly having loosened her tongue. “I like to think she knew what she was doing when she left me the store. She knew it would bring me back home. My dad was still alive then, and it gave me some great years with him before he passed a couple years ago. Heart attack. He was only sixty-four. Annie was like that though. She was intuitive. She always knew exactly what people needed, from something as simple as the right book at the right time or something bigger like bringing me home as an adult.”
“Was it a hard decision to give up your job and move back to run the store?” He was leaning forward, his attention fixed squarely on her as if her story was the most interesting one he’d ever heard.
“Nope. It was the easiest decision I’ve ever made. I’m honored to carry on Annie’s legacy and that of her family.” She didn’t add that Annie’s timing couldn’t have been better. She’d just found out her publisher was closing its doors, and the weight of the embarrassment when she had to tell her coworkers her book wasn’t being published had been nearly too much to bear. She’d happily escaped their looks of pity and their constant questions about whether she’d found a new publisher.
No one on Heron Isle even knew about her failed attempt at becoming an author, except Taylor, and it certainly wasn’t ammunition she planned to give Logan. She’d already told him enough embarrassing information for one evening.