9. Maggie #2
“I’m Brick Collins,” he said. “Friend of your mother’s. Heard you needed hands. We brought hands.” Then he threw a grin at Maggie. “There’s my girl.”
Her cheeks burned, but mostly because of the way Eli turned with a look of sheer disbelief.
She lifted her chin and gave her son a serene smile. Eli looked back at Brick.
“Sir,” he said. “I’m…we’re…grateful doesn’t begin to cut it.”
“Oh, don’t sir me. It’s Brick.”
“Brick. I don’t know what to say.”
“Say where you want plywood and let’s get to work.
Angel. Randy. This is Maggie’s son, Eli.
Hey, boys!” He called to the two lanky twenty-somethings pulling toolboxes and more wood from the truck.
“Come meet the Lawsons. This here’s my grandson Nick, and this is Wyatt.
Nick’s in construction up in Georgia, but came down to help our neighbors with the storm.
Wyatt can wire a generator with his eyes closed, and I happened to score a few extra sheets of plywood.
Don’t ask how. Bring those panels. Eli, show us around. The boys’ll bring in the rest.”
“I’ll help them!” Jonah offered, hustling out for a quick introduction.
Eli and Brick walked off with Angel and Randy, while Maggie smiled at the grandsons. “We’re so thankful to have you here,” she said, meaning every word.
They both nodded, and Wyatt, the taller, fairer of the two, actually tapped the brim of his ballcap. “Yes, ma’am. Granddad’s told us all about you, ma’am.”
“Oh, has he,” Maggie said.
Nick leaned closer as he walked by. “Poor man’s smitten.”
“Erp.” The sound came from Jo Ellen, who somehow had Atlas now, her hand over his face to protect him from the sun. “Did you hear that, Mags? I thought you were just—”
Maggie glared at her. “Do not make me change my mind about the hurricane party, Jo.”
She slammed her lips together, but fought a laugh. “Fine,” she said. “But I think the whole day has just taken a turn for the better.”
No kidding. The closing line from Vivien’s diary echoed in her head.
Is there anything quite as appealing as a sweating man with a hammer?
Guess she was about to find out.
Within fifteen minutes, the entire Gulf side of the house was a coordinated operation.
Nick and Wyatt were on the upper ladders. Jonah, who suddenly had a partner on his ladder, was moving twice as fast. Angel was on sandbag duty with one of Eli’s wheelbarrows. Randy was running the generators into the back of the property.
Brick and Eli started bringing in the large furniture from the deck, filling the living area as they neatly stacked the table, chairs, sofas, and chaises.
Maggie, Kate, Vivien, and Jo Ellen coordinated sandwiches in the kitchen while Emma was on Atlas duty.
“You realize you owe us a big fat explanation,” Vivien whispered, cornering Maggie in the kitchen. Maggie tried to shoulder past her, but Vivien was having none of it. “Mom.”
“I do not owe anyone anything.”
“How did you meet this guy?” she pressed.
Maggie looked past her to shoot a warning look at Jo Ellen, who giggled over a tray of turkey sandwiches.
“Just tell them, Mags.”
“Tell us what?” Kate demanded.
“Nothing.”
“Then I will,” Jo Ellen said. “Remember when you thought we spent a week or so at Frank and Betty’s a few months ago?”
They nodded.
“Well, we actually went on a little road trip to sell Frank’s old truck to a dealer in Miami—”
“Miami?” Vivien gasped.
“And on the way, it broke down and we were saved by Brick and company,” Jo Ellen continued. “We had to leave the truck at a garage in Crawfordville, so we stayed at Gator Jack’s and Brick and your mom…”
Vivien’s eyes grew wide.
“Nothing happened!” Maggie insisted. “And I can’t believe I have to explain myself to my own daughter. He is a friend, I swear on…the soul of my late husband, Roger Lawson.”
“Who is nothing like Brick Collins,” Vivien said, fighting a smile. “You don’t have to get defensive, Mom. I think it’s…cute.”
She grunted. “I don’t do cute.”
“Sweet?” Kate tried.
“Have you met her?” Jo Ellen quipped.
Maggie blew out a breath. “Are we finished discussing my private social life? Are we abandoning sandwiches for gossip? Are we done with the endless interrogation?”
“I think he’s nice.” This from the most unlikely participant, Emma. As they looked at her and chuckled, she lifted a shoulder. “He’s gruff and tattoo-y, yeah. But he’s kind. You can see it in his eyes. And he likes to tease Grandma Maggie—if you don’t mind me calling you that.”
“Not at all, dear,” Maggie said, her heart melting for the sweet thing. “You’re Jo’s granddaughter, so that makes you mine.”
“Well, I think he teases you because he respects you. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be here on a day when those men could be anywhere helping anyone.”
It was so true, and she smiled at Emma. “You’re right, and I thank you for that. Now…” She looked from Kate to Vivien. “Can you two secure the beach awning on the boardwalk? The deck is too close to the hammers and nails, and they’re bringing furniture in. This way, they can eat in the shade.”
“I got it,” Kate said.
As she walked out, Eli came in and they almost collided, laughing.
“Oh, you look so much better,” she said, reaching a hand up to cup his cheek.
“A thousand percent,” he replied. “This, Kate, is a miracle.”
“It’s…something,” Kate muttered, then passed him on her way to get the tent.
Maggie turned and eyed her son, who’d lost one tiny bit of the light in his eyes. She suspected she knew why, but hoped she was wrong.
“Why don’t you help Kate with the tent?” Maggie suggested.
He blew out a breath, and Vivien stepped in.
“Take a break, big bro. We got this.”
Eli just nodded and grabbed a water, then went back outside.
By noon, they were ahead of schedule.
The boardwalk awning had become command central, fluttering under a lovely but frequently stiff breeze off the Gulf. It made the heat bearable, but was like a whisper of bad things to come.
“Did you ask Brick for help?” Vivien asked, still digging around for more information on the relationship that clearly baffled her.
“Of course not.”
“Oh, Mags.” Jo Ellen waved a hand. “The man rode over here with reinforcements because you mentioned at eleven o’clock last night that your son was struggling. You can have a feeling about that.”
Maggie did not answer at first. Instead, she picked up Atlas’s little foot and considered it.
“It is very nice,” she finally said, “to have someone you can lean on.”
Vivien and Jo Ellen exchanged a look so obvious that it couldn’t be ignored.
“However, I am not leaning,” Maggie clarified. “On him or anyone.”
“Of course not.”
Brick, at that moment, walked past the boardwalk with a sheet of plywood balanced on one shoulder with ease. He turned his head toward Maggie as he passed, did not stop, gave her a single slow wink so obvious that Vivien very nearly fell off her chair.
“Maggie Fredericks Lawson,” Vivien whispered.
Jo Ellen giggled exactly like she had when all of Sigma Nu turned up at the Tri-Delt house to serenade them in 1967.
“Oh, hush, both of you.” Maggie picked up her lemonade and took a long, dignified sip and did not, under any circumstances, smile.