6. Chapter 6
Chapter 6
Luke
Beauty and I are once again on the porch, basking in the morning sun and listening to the waves crash against the shore. I’m crocheting a pair of pants for Lindy that has pickle spears in the pattern. It’s by far the ugliest thing I’ve ever made, but I know she’ll adore the pants.
Beauty barks.
“What’s up, girl?” Then I hear it, too. A car is driving down the road to our house. I glance at my watch. Lindy should be at work by now. So, who could this be?
A truck with a Corbin and Sons scrawled across the side pulls into view.
Hastily, I shove the pickle pants, balls of yarn, and my crochet hook into a nearby empty pot. Lindy had said she’d arrange for a in-person consultation, but she hadn’t told me she’d made an appointment.
I rise from my chair to greet the contractor. I’m fully expecting to see old man Corbin or one of his sons. Instead, a curvy woman with long, wavy hair steps out of the truck. She shoves her sunglasses onto her head and turns toward me.
My knees buckle beneath me, and I stumble to regain my balance. Beauty, always unsteady on her own three feet, chooses this precise moment to lie down in front of me. I try to quickly maneuver, jumping out of the way to avoid trampling on my poor, old dog, and faceplant in front in front of my childhood nemesis.
“Bum knee,” I mutter, blaming my hockey injury, as I scramble back to my feet.
Charley nods, cool as a cucumber. “I heard about that.” She kneels to pet Beauty. Her voice transforms into something melodic, even sweet , as she coos, “And who’s this pretty girl?”
“Beauty,” I say gruffly.
She scratches behind Beauty’s ears. “Good girl, Beauty. Way to throw that big, bad man to the ground. He needs to be taken down a peg or two from time to time.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “We haven’t seen each other in fifteen years and you’re already launching insults?”
She shrugs. “Sorry. Old habits die hard.”
“Why are you here?” I demand.
Her eyebrows raise in surprise. “Didn’t Lindy tell you I was coming to examine the property? I need to inspect everything before I can give you an estimate.”
“She said she’d schedule an appointment. She didn’t tell me one had already been made, and she definitely didn’t tell me you’d be the person coming to visit.”
“I see,” she says, folding her arms to mirror my stance. “So, who exactly were you expecting?”
I clench my jaw. “I don’t know. The shingle says Corbin and Sons. So, I suppose I expected one of them to show up.”
She rolls her eyes. “Really? You thought my grandpa, who’s been dead for twenty years, would show up?” ‘
I feel heat rise to my cheeks. “Or sons,” I point.
“So, my dad or my Uncle Robert? Both of whom are in their mid-sixties now and enjoying their much-deserved retirements.” She narrows her eyes. “Or did you just not expect a woman ?”
“Let’s get this over with, okay? Where do you want to start? The lighthouse?” I turn to lead her toward the towering structure.
“You always did have problems with strong women,” she mutters under her breath.
I wheel on her. “That’s a lie! I have a twin sister, for goodness’ sake.”
“You sure didn’t like it when I kicked your butt in hockey.”
“That’s because I didn’t like you ,” I say through gritted teeth. “Not because I have a problem with women.”
The truth is I admired Charley’s skill on the ice. She was the best player in the league by far—even though she was the only girl on the team. Our high school didn’t have enough girls interested in hockey to form a team, so she played for a community team before finally giving it up. That always made me a little sad, despite my pure, unadulterated loathing of her. Anyone who’s that good on the ice should have the chance to show off their skills.
She’s quiet after that, and I start to feel guilty for telling her that I don’t like her. As I lead her into the lighthouse, I turn to face her. “The lighthouse is in the worst shape. The house was built later, but the lighthouse has been here for—”
“Nearly two hundred years,” she says, nodding. “I know.”
“Be careful,” I say, leading her up the spiraling staircase to the observational deck. “There’s eight-eight steps, and some of the steps are starting to crumble.”
She frowns. “Are you sure you should climb them with the busted knee?”
She sounds genuinely concerned, and it catches me off guard. “I’ve spent months in physical therapy. I can climb stairs. I can even run in a straight line. I just can’t twist and pivot like I sed to.”
We start the ascent, trudging up one step at a time up the twisting staircase. Despite what I told Charley, my knee is starting to throb before we reach the top. Stairs that go straight up or down would be a cinch. Spiral stairs are a bit trickier.
I reach a spot where the step has crumbled and stretch my legs to skip the step. I turn to Charley and extend a hand to help her.
She stares at it like it’s a mousetrap for a second but then accepts my help. Her palm connects with mine, and it sends a shiver rippling down my spine—in a good way. What in the world was that?
I release her hand, and we continue to climb. Finally, we reach the observation deck. “There’s a hatch that leads up to the light,” I explain, but the ladder’s missing. “I’d love to get it updated with a modern light on an automatic timer or something.”
She smiles at me. “The days of lighting a lantern with whale oil are long gone, fortunately.”
We stand in companiable silence for a few minutes, admiring the view. My gaze keeps wandering back to her profile. In many ways, she hasn’t changed much since high school. The changes are subtle, yet transformational. She used to be a rebel who prided herself on cutting her own hair with scissors she’d swiped from the principal’s desk. Now, hair is still wild, blowing freely in the wind, but it’s natural and soft. I have a strange urge to reach out and touch it.
I’m reaching out my arm as she turns to look at me. “What are you doing?” she demands.
I lean against the wall and pretend to stretch. “Just stretching. The steps were more of a workout than I expected.”
She nods, satisfied with the answer, and I breath a sigh of relief at not getting caught. What on earth was I thinking?
She removes a hair band from her wrist and pulls her hair into a ponytail. “I’ve always loved this lighthouse. I used to pretend I lived in it.”
“Locked in the tower like Rapunzel?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “No. Waiting for Prince Charming to come to the rescue has never been my style.”
“No,” I agree. “If Prince Charming showed up on a white horse to save you, you’d probably challenge him to a duel, knock him to the ground, steal his stallion, and ride away into the sunset all by yourself.”
She frowns. “That all sounds good except for the riding into the sunset alone part. I don’t think being a strong female necessarily means I’m impossible to love.”
My mouth falls open. “That’s not what I said.”
“Isn’t it?” She shrugs. “I’m pretty sure you just said I’d end up all by myself.”
I clench my fists. I can’t believe I have to defend myself against this nonsense. “I said if Prince Charming showed up, that’d be your reaction. Are you telling me you’re dreaming of Prince Charming coming to your rescue?”
Her nostrils flare. “Absolutely not!”
“Then what are we even arguing about?” I roar. “I swear, you search for things to be mad about.”
“If I do, it’s just because I’ve had to fight against sexism every day of my life! First, it was kids making fun of my name, saying it’s a boy name. Then it was my love of hockey and the fact that I was the only girl on the team. Now, I have to fight every day with people who expect a man to show up for contracting jobs. When does it end?” She takes a step back and collides with the railing of the observation deck. The railing gives out with a sickening snap.
“Charley!” I jump forward, reaching out to grab her before she topples over the side and plummets to her death. I pull her back to safety, not stopping until my back presses into the cool brick wall.
She presses her face into my chest and sobs. I stroke her back, whispering, “You’re okay. You’re safe. It’s all right,” over and over.
She looks up at me with tear-streaked cheeks. “You saved my life. Just like Prince Charming.”
I chuckle. “I’m not dumb enough to fall for that bait.”
She smiles weakly. “I could have died.”
I fold her back into my arms. “You’re safe,” I repeat.
“But I could have,” she murmurs. “And it would have been so embarrassing. I’m a professional. I’m always cautious at job sites. I know better. How could I ever live down the shame?”
“You wouldn’t, because you would be dead,” I point out.
She laughs. “Thank you for saving my life.”
“No problem. For the record, I’m glad you’re not dead.”
She takes a shaky step back to look up at me. “You are?”
“Of course. If’ you’d died, I’d have been convicted of murder and sent to prison for the rest of my life.”
She laughs, punching me in the shoulder. Hard.
“See what I mean?” I say, rubbing my shoulder. “No one who knows us would ever believe it was accident. Even my sister would testify against me.”
Her tongue darts out to moisten her lips and I’m suddenly weak in the knees again. When did Charley Corbin become so… kissable.
“Maybe we should call a truce?” she suggests.
I nod. “Deal.”
She turns to gaze at the view once more and frowns. Holding her hand over face to shield her eyes from the sun, she gazes at something. “What’s that?” she asks, extending a finger.
I follow the direction of her pointer finger to a silver object hovering nearby. I suppress a groan. “It’s a drone.”
She turns to look at me. “What’s it doing?”
“Taking photographs, I’d imagine.”
“Of us?” she shrieks.
“Let’s go inside and make our way back down, okay?”
Once we’re hidden inside, Charley repeats her question. “Was someone taking pictures of us?”
I nod. “I think so.”
“Why?”
“Who knows? I’m not newsworthy these days. Even my retirement announcement was barely a blip on nation’s radar.” I wave a hand in the air dismissively. “You know what? It’s probably just a tourist taking pictures of the lighthouse. I doubt it has anything to do with us at all.”
She bites her lower lip. “That makes sense. People love lighthouses.”
I rise back to my feet and start making the descent again. “I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about.”