Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Two notifications lit the screen. One from Brittney. One from social media.
Yawning, she tapped Brittney’s message first.
Brittney
You need to come back ASAP. Martin just went on paternity leave, and with you gone we are down two people. If you don’t get back this week, they’re already talking about bringing in someone new. I’ll try to stall them, but I don’t have much leverage. Please come back. I’m serious.
Uh-oh. Emma sat up straighter and leaned against the headboard. Well, she had been rather bold, expecting to leave work for ten days. Now that she’d stretched that into almost two weeks, it wasn’t a surprise that the manager might consider replacing her.
“But I just need a little more time,” she whispered.
Without responding, she swiped to the next notification. A tagged post from the gala back in Boston popped up. The fundraiser she was supposed to attend with Nathan. The one she’d bailed on to stay in Redemption longer.
Her thumb froze mid-scroll as she took a closer look at the photo.
Nathan stood in a black suit, his arm draped around a stunning woman in a form-fitting purple dress.
Courtney. The doctor Emma had met briefly at last year’s gala, and the woman who’d shown up at Kendall’s party and spoken to Nathan a few weeks back. Tall. Confident. Elegant.
Everything Emma wasn’t.
Nathan and Courtney weren’t kissing, but they didn’t have to be. Courtney leaned into him like she belonged there. His hand rested in the curve of her waist. Sort of like he’d pulled her close before. They both sported wide smiles, their cheeks flushed in the soft lighting of the venue’s ballroom.
This was the kind of photo you framed. Or posted with a caption like when things just feel right.
An ache climbed the back of her throat, and her eyes burned with unshed tears. Was this some kind of punishment for telling him no? For extending her stay? How could he do this?
Her hands shook as she tapped out a text.
Emma
Saw your photo with Courtney. You owe me an explanation.
Shoving back the covers, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and crossed the room. She had to talk to Lainey about this.
When she pulled the door open, the voices downstairs grew even louder, bouncing off the walls. One of them was definitely Lainey, and the other a man. Older, with a raspy voice that hinted that he wasn’t unfamiliar with confrontation.
She turned back, quickly used the bathroom, then pulled on jeans and a hoodie and pushed her feet into her slippers. She stepped out into the hallway, wincing as the argument grew more heated.
“Gary, for the love, you can’t keep doing this.” Lainey’s voice carried a sharpness Emma hadn’t heard from her before.
Emma padded down the steep staircase and skipped the loose step at the bottom that would warn of her arrival. Then she leaned against the wall just out of sight.
“I don’t need a lecture from you,” the man—must have been Gary—shot back, wheezing. “You think you know everything just because you run your own business? If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have this—”
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” Lainey cut him off, her voice icy.
“You’re spending your disability checks on junk again, aren’t you?
I have access to your account. You think I don’t know?
You think I don’t notice? What are you into right now—vintage knives? Old VHS tapes of The Dukes of Hazzard?”
“I don’t have to explain myself to you.” Something heavy slammed onto the table, hard. “Can’t you stop pretending you care about what I spend my money on, for crying out loud? Last time I checked, it was mine, and I suffered for every dollar.”
Emma inched closer, then leaned around the corner.
Lainey, usually composed and cheerful, stood in the kitchen with her hands planted on her hips, her face flushed.
A pale, wiry man, probably in his sixties, sat at the kitchen table, a portable oxygen tank resting at his feet.
His chest rose and fell with effort, his posture defiant.
“You don’t need to spend your money on all that stuff,” Lainey said. “You’re the only one who got that settlement check from the oil spill, remember? The rest of us have to scrape and claw just to get by these days, and you sit back and blow it on nonsense while…”
She broke off, pressing her lips into a thin line, shaking her head.
“I’m not the villain here,” Gary said. “You think I asked for this? For any of it? You think I want to spend my life”—he wheezed, pausing before continuing—“hooked up to this dumb thing?” He gestured at the tank. “That oil spill ruined me. Ruined my life. It ruined my marriage.”
“I don’t want to hear it,” Lainey said, her voice rising.
“My mother tried so hard to save you, but even she had her limits. How nice for you that you don’t have to work.
But that’s the whole point, isn’t it? You could use that money to, I don’t know, make your life better, help people out, but instead, you’re blowing it on things you don’t need.
And then you complain to me when somebody says something nasty to you in the grocery store. ”
Emma’s throat tightened. She knew what it was like to have life unravel. Knew the shame of carrying a last name people spat like a curse.
“Hey, is everything okay in here?” Her voice was tentative as she stepped into the kitchen before things escalated further.
Gary and Lainey both turned to her, their faces a mixture of surprise and irritation.
“Sorry,” Emma said, holding up both hands. “I heard voices, and I thought maybe—” She trailed off, feeling ridiculous now. What did she think? That she could just breeze in here and mediate this? She was Lainey’s guest, not a referee.
Lainey ran a hand through her short, spiky blonde hair. “It’s fine.”
“Doesn’t look fine.” Emma pushed her hands into the front pocket of her hoodie. “Anything I can do to help?”
Lainey sighed, rubbing her temples. “Do you remember Gary? Gary Sheridan. My stepfather.”
“Of course.” Emma crossed the kitchen and shook his hand. “Nice to see you again. I’m Emma Carlisle.”
Gary shot her a curious glance. “Huh. Carlisle. Sounds familiar. You used to live here. Good friends with Abbie too.”
“That’s right,” Emma said. “I moved after ninth grade.”
Gary nodded, his brows drawing together. “Your dad—he was a good egg.”
Emma let out a hollow laugh before she could stop it. “You must have known a different Carlisle.”
“No, I mean it. Owned that place out on the water at the end of Aurora Way. The one with the sea lions.”
Emma pulled out a stool and sat down at the bar, facing him. “That would be the one, yes. Got any tips or life hacks for how to eradicate sea lions?”
Gary paused, drawing in a deep breath, waiting while the oxygen assisted him. “Tourists love ’em, especially when they pile on those buoys and whatnot. Be careful how you proceed.”
“Good point.” She tried for a smile. “Thank you.”
Gary eyed her. “So how is your old man?”
Emma shifted, the stool creaking underneath her. “I don’t really know. He’s still in prison. We don’t keep in touch.”
Silence filled the kitchen.
Gary’s expression softened. “Your dad was a good guy, Emma. A great friend to me. And a lot of fun.”
Emma stifled an exasperated sigh. She’d heard this before. Always the same story. Her dad had been so charming. So kind. So fun. And yet, he was a fraud. A liar. A con artist who had ruined lives.
Gary hesitated, then added, “But sometimes there’s more to a person than what meets the eye, you know?” He exhaled, glancing at Lainey. “Your mom though. Excuse me, but she was…”
Emma’s stomach clenched. “She was what?”
Gary’s gaze slid to Lainey. “Yeah, you know, I think I’ve said enough. Lainey, if we’re done with our bonding session, I’d like to go now.” Although his tone was less snide than before, his hand trembled as he reached for his oxygen tank.
Frowning, Lainey moved to help him. “Come on, then. I’ll walk you out.”
As they left the kitchen together, Emma sat still, watching them go.
Whatever had happened with that oil spill had been before her time, but Gary’s issues and Lainey’s resentment were tangled and messy and raw.
Sort of like her family drama. His disdain for her mother rattled her though. What did he mean?
He had to get this snowmobile fixed.
Luke’s wrench slipped off the bolt. “Come on!” he grumbled.
He slid the wrench back into place, then tightened the last bolt on the engine panel and blew a slow breath.
This thing had been giving him trouble for weeks.
But with Hank out sick and unable to troubleshoot and six guests coming in two days for a long weekend’s stay—praise God—he had to get this thing running.
Because the last thing he wanted was unhappy clients.
He stepped back to assess his work and put the wrench back in the toolbox. When the crunch of tires on fresh snow caught his attention, he turned.
An SUV rolled to a stop, its doors caked with ice and road salt. The driver cut the engine, pushed open the door, and stepped out. When he slammed it shut, Luke gave him a quick once-over.
Early forties, maybe, with a long red beard that looked like it hadn’t seen a razor in a long time. His Carhartt coat was thick, stained with grease, and his jeans had that quilted lining built for brutal cold. He rolled them up at the cuffs of his worn lace-up boots.
Luke met his gaze. Those eyes—somehow familiar—caught him. But he couldn’t figure out why. The man had a quiet hesitance. He tugged his blue beanie farther down over his ears and approached slowly.
“Hi there. Can I help you?” Luke offered a polite smile.
The man shoved his hands into his coat pockets, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
“I’m looking for Emma Carlisle. Somebody at the gas station said you might know where to find her.”
Unease slid through Luke. People didn’t just show up looking for Emma without a reason.
“She’s not here right now. Who’s asking?”
The man hesitated, his gaze dropping to the ground. “Gavin. Gavin Carlisle. I’m her cousin.”
The eyes. He had Emma’s eyes.
Luke gave a slow nod. “Yeah, she’s been looking for you, Gavin. I’m glad you came to Redemption.”
“I had a buddy running the Iditarod, so I helped out where I could. Otherwise, I would’ve tried to get in touch sooner.”
Huh. Maybe the guy wasn’t so bad. Still, Luke wasn’t a hundred percent ready to trust him.
“I can text her,” Luke said. “You wanna come in? Get some coffee? I’m sure she’ll come right over when I tell her you’re here.”
Gavin’s gaze drifted to the snowmobile. “You having trouble with that?”
Luke rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. Thought it was a hydraulic issue. Changed the filter. Hank is my usual ace-in-the-hole handyman, but he’s not well right now, so I’m trying to get this thing going.
It keeps stalling though. Or doesn’t start at all.
” He gestured toward the sky. “More customers and more snow on the way, so I need to get it sorted.”
“Maybe your fuel line’s freezing up.” Gavin moved closer. “These older models can be fussy. Mind if I take a look?”
Luke hesitated. He wasn’t about to turn down capable help. He gestured toward the machine. “Go for it.”
Gavin crouched down, pulled off one glove, and ran his fingers along the fuel line. His knuckles were caked with grease, and dirt was wedged under his nails.
“Got a wrench?”
“Yep.” Luke handed him two options.
“Thanks.”
Gavin worked in silence, loosening a small valve near the carburetor. After a few taps, a trickle of liquid seeped out.
“Vapor lock, maybe?” Gavin said. “Happens sometimes when the pressure builds up in cooler temperatures.”
“Huh.” Luke leaned in to watch. “Wish I’d thought of that. You work on snowmobiles a lot?”
“A few times.” He glanced at Luke’s toolbox. “Hand me that multi-tool there, please.”
“You got it.” Luke handed him the tool and watched in awe.
Gavin adjusted something Luke couldn’t see.
“Worked in a few resorts over the years,” Gavin added. “Had to run a trail groomer all winter once. Learned a few tricks.” He grinned, his teeth yellowed, one even missing.
Luke packed that information away. The guy knew his way around machines, even if he looked like he’d been wandering off the grid for months.
A few minutes later, Gavin pushed to his feet and nodded toward the snowmobile. “See if it starts.”
Luke climbed onto the bench seat and turned the key. The engine sputtered, caught, and rumbled alive with a deep, steady thrum. He grinned. “Gavin, my man! Not bad!”
Gavin just shrugged and put the tools back. “Sometimes all it takes is a little patience.”
Luke turned off the engine, climbed off, and wiped his hands on a rag.
“I appreciate this so much. Thank you. And listen, Emma’s going to be thrilled to hear from you. She’s been searching high and low.”
Gavin gave a tight nod. “Figured.”
“I guess she—uh, I guess you know she’s here to try to sell the house? The one she grew up in? The place is a mess, but she found something inside she thinks you might have a claim to.”
Gavin’s chin lifted. “That so, huh?”
“Yeah. Come on inside. You hungry?”
Gavin nodded. “I could eat.”
Feeding the guy was the least Luke could do, given that he’d saved them a lot of time and maybe an expensive repair. As he led Gavin toward the resort, he pulled his phone from his pocket and sent Emma a quick text.
Luke
Hey, great news. Someone’s here to see you.
The message sent, and Luke slid his phone back into his pocket.
He glanced at Gavin. The guy had fixed the snow machine quickly and hadn’t asked for anything in return.
Now he’d agreed to meet with a cousin he probably hadn’t seen in years.
Luke pulled open the resort’s front door, then waited for Gavin to go inside first. He had no idea what Emma and Gavin’s reunion might bring, but some small part of him hoped Gavin might convince her not to sell. Maybe then she’d choose to stay.