Chapter 12
Logan
Logan was still absorbing everything Lucy had just told him. Pieced together with what he’d learned from the mayor about her mother leaving town, he was getting a clearer picture of Lucy and her motivations. He was only an armchair psychologist, but if he had to guess, he’d say she clung to familiar things—like the town and her answering machine—because her entire life had been like a hurricane spinning around her, constantly throwing things into disarray. No wonder she had such an aversion to change.
He studied her face, the pain in her eyes as evident as those of a puppy who’d been dropped off at a shelter. She was her own worst enemy. She didn’t take risks, trying only to maintain the status quo. But in her attempts to avoid the lows of life, she was missing out on the highs.
She was clearly uncomfortable talking about her experience at the bank, but she shouldn’t be embarrassed. It wasn’t as if she would have learned this stuff majoring in library sciences. Maybe if he helped her, she’d be a better teammate on the waterfront project.
A voice in his head reminded him that personal relationships and business didn’t mix, but he reasoned this wasn’t a romantic relationship. Control of the building was good for her business, and a successful project plan was imperative for his career at this point. He needed her to start trusting him and stop seeing him as the enemy. He would show her how well they could work together. Besides, he wouldn’t want to see the building fall into the wrong hands.
“Okay,” he leaned his arms on the table. “Let’s just say you have the down payment and collateral to buy the building. If all you need are more detailed business plans that cover the maintenance and upkeep of a historic building like that, let me help you. I’ve done tax credit work like that in plenty of towns. And figuring out the landlord side of things isn’t that hard either. I can show you how to price future rents.” He’d taken several real estate courses in law school, and he’d been involved in dozens of commercial lease negotiations over the years.
“Why would you want to help me? This doesn’t have anything to do with the waterfront.”
She raised a suspicious eyebrow, but he saw something else in her eyes. Hope? It only fueled his desire to help her.
“What can I say? I’m a sucker for historic buildings and the people who love them.” He’d meant to lighten the mood, but he saw a flicker in her eyes when he spoke the final words. The spark of interest was familiar to him, and he felt it every time he was near her. But it wasn’t like he could stay away from her. They had to work together on the waterfront project, and it wouldn’t be that big of a deal to help her with the building too.
“I don’t know.” She bit her lip.
He’d caught her doing that a few times when she’d been unsure of herself.
“Do you really think I could manage a whole building full of tenants? You saw what my systems are like.”
She smiled at him through her lashes, and he found it hard to focus on what he should say next. He cleared his throat and shifted to sit up straighter in his chair.
“It’s only a handful of tenants. We can put systems in place to manage that. I’ll help you with that too.”
The server appeared then with their meals, which gave him an excuse to look away from her soft brown eyes.
“Don’t you already have your hands full with your own project?” She frowned as she picked up her fork.
“Well, you’re going to help me with that, and I’ll help you with this. It’s called teamwork.”
“Oh, now you think I’m going to help you commercialize the waterfront?” Her eyes twinkled, challenging him.
“To be fair, it’s already commercial.”
She shrugged in acknowledgment, so he continued.
“I want you to help me find ways to make it more profitable that don’t ruin the character of downtown.”
“Have you come up with any ideas other than the cruise ships and casino boats?” She popped a shrimp into her mouth.
He held up his hands. “Yes. I know those are no-gos for you. They were just the beginning of my ideas. What about paddle board rentals? Or jet skis? I also saw where another town bought these little two-person crafts you can teach anyone to drive with just a few minutes of instruction.”
She looked off toward the ocean as she chewed, as if she was trying to picture it.
“The downtown marina is actually a pretty good spot for that kind of thing, but there’s never been a proper ramp to help people load their kayaks into the water. It’s more like a river than an ocean on that side. From downtown, you could send people to the right toward the west side of the island and that would keep them out of the path of boaters who mostly come in from the ocean side.”
“See? Teamwork.” He winked at her and relished the way her smile spread quickly and easily across her face. It made him want to come up with more ideas that would make her look at him like that and remind him that he really was good at his job.
Crisscrossing globe lights over their heads flickered on as the sun dropped behind the west side of the building, giving the sandy yard where they sat a romantic glow. The people around them probably thought they were on a date. Two young, attractive professionals chatting over glasses of wine. Except this was strictly a business dinner.
“It’s still not enough money though, is it?” Her voice was barely loud enough to break into his train of thought. She poked at a shrimp on her plate, not meeting his eyes.
He sipped his wine. “If we could do the open-air market, the food kiosks, and implement some new recreational areas, it would get us part of the way there. We don’t have to figure it all out tonight. The important thing is that we’re adding some good ideas to the list.”
She gave a little nod. “Can we agree to a bit of a ceasefire?”
“What did you have in mind?” He leaned forward.
“No more going door-to-door trying to sell your plans. It’s not fair without someone there to present the other side. We’ll air everything out in the public forums.” She reached a hand across the table to shake on it.
He slid his hand into hers and felt the electricity. He searched her eyes to see if she felt it too. Her brown eyes glowed almost amber under the yellow tinge of the lights above. When they locked with his for a split second, he felt warmth wash over his entire body.
His voice was husky when he spoke. “Deal.”
She pulled her hand away first and he instantly missed the feel of her skin against his.
“To teamwork.” Lucy picked up her glass and raised it in his direction.
He cleared his throat, even as he still worked to clear his head. “To teamwork.” He lifted his glass to clink against hers and was pleased to see the easy smile return to her face.
Things were looking up. But even as he pondered how quickly he might be able to tie up the deal here so he could throw his hat in the ring for the big Boston job opening up, he couldn’t stop wondering if he and Lucy could have been something more if they’d met in another time, another place.
But they hadn’t, and he had to remember Heron Isle and Lucy were just a pit stop on his way back to his career path.
He left Lucy with plans to go by her bookstore after she closed the next evening and look at the paperwork she had on the building. She hadn’t agreed to letting him help her yet, but she did relent when he promised he’d look at everything objectively and be honest with her about whether buying the building was a reasonable thing for her to consider. He wasn’t sure if it was the wine or her good mood from the waterfront discussion, but by the end of dinner the conversation was flowing easily from quirky pets on the island like Sidney the alligator to where he could find the best seashells. She’d let her guard down, and he’d liked seeing her more carefree, the tension gone from her shoulders and her smile lighting up her features.
He pulled out of the restaurant’s sandy lot, but instead of driving the half mile to his cottage, he headed back downtown. He couldn’t let himself get attached to Lucy, and the woman he’d been exchanging books with in the Little Free Library was a safe distraction. He didn’t know her name, her age, or what she looked like. No danger of mixing personal and business there.
As he crossed the lawn from his parking spot to the Little Free Library, he found himself hoping there was a new book from Island Girl. He hadn’t even finished reading the last one yet, but he enjoyed the exchange. It was like the advent calendar his mom always put out in December—you never knew what might be waiting each day. He also had an irrational fear that he’d miss something from her or that someone else might take a book meant for him. They left sticky notes on the books for each other, but still, anyone could take what they wanted. It was a public repository after all.
Logan passed a young couple holding hands and licking ice-cream cones. He’d sat talking to Lucy at the Sand Dollar long enough that the downtown restaurants were closing for the night, families already back in their rented rooms and houses, putting children with sun-kissed skin to bed. Only a handful of couples and groups of friends lingered downtown, walking the streets, and eating ice cream from the store on the corner that was still open.
When he got to the library, he looked around to see if anyone was watching him. It was silly, but he’d begun to wonder if the woman leaving him the books ever hung out nearby and watched to catch a glimpse of Gatsby’s Ghost. He thought this because it had occurred to him to do just that. After all, it was hard not to be curious about who was on the other end of the notes. He needed to remain anonymous though. It was safer that way.
When he opened the door, he had to flip the switch to illuminate the space. There was a small stack on the ledge to be shelved, and he was about to give up when he spotted her handwriting on the final book in the stack titled The Only Rule Is It Has To Work.
He pulled out the index card and read.
Gatsby’s Ghost,
I’m still reading the last book you left me—thank you for that. It’s just the pep talk I need right now.
And, yes, I do like baseball. My dad loved the game and raised me to do the same. Go Braves!
I know we don’t know each other, but I find myself wondering how your at-bat went. I’m afraid my problem might be that no one ever taught me how to hit. Is there a book for that? Haha.
Rooting for you,
Island Girl
P.S. Did you read Moneyball? If you liked that, maybe you’ll like this fun take.
She was a baseball fan. He turned the book over to read the back. Apparently, it was about two statisticians who had the chance to run an independent league baseball team, making up the rules as they went. The Moneyball experiment essentially taken to absurd levels. He was surprised he’d never heard of it, but he was looking forward to reading it.
He’d once tried to convince Catherine to read a book he’d thought she’d like, but she’d been too busy to bother. It sat on her nightstand for months before her maid finally put it on a bookshelf where it likely still sat.
On his drive back to the cottage, he tried to imagine the kind of woman Island Girl might be. Apparently, she read everything from historical novels to nonfiction sports books. If her dad was a Braves fan, she might be a local. There wasn’t a baseball team anywhere near Heron Isle, but then the Braves had been claimed by most of the southeast for decades, so she could be from anywhere.
He pushed thoughts of unmasking his pen pal aside. He and Lucy were finally making headway, and the clock was ticking before the Boston job opened for proposals from consultants. Initiating a successful plan in Heron Isle so that he could then help the town hire a permanent manager to implement it could show Boston that San Diego was a blip. And then a win in Boston would put him back on the map. No one would even remember San Diego then.
Eyes on the prize. All that stood between him and Boston were a few community forums.