“Really?” Eudora let out an ecstatic gasp and somewhere in the background Alfred barked. “Oh, thank you, Luke! You’re a good egg, you know that?”
He didn’t know anything about that, but he did know one thing: Leah Powell was not a wash-ashore.
When he left his job on Stage Harbor Road, it was already four-thirty and Route 28 through town was a traffic jam. Luke tried not to count all the Connecticut and New York plates, but they outnumbered the Massachusetts ones by a long shot. Just as the Land Rovers outnumbered the pickup trucks this time every year. But every seaside town depended on summer tourism. From the shops and restaurants to the Chatham Bars and Wayside inns, right down to the ice cream truck that ran laps between Ridgevale, Harding’s, and Cockle Cove beaches, this time of year was most challenging and most income-earning for all the locals. Come September, the town and the beaches would be theirs again. And Luke’s wallet would be full if his body sore.
His current job was in the final stages, and it was one he’d enjoyed. The family was doing a full kitchen reno and had hired Luke to craft their island and cabinetry, as well as that of the butler’s pantry. He liked the family, and he liked their taste whenit came to the wood elements of the design: they’d chosen classic Shaker-style panels and doors that would be painted in cloud-gray. The focal piece, however, was a large hearth-style hood over the eight-burner Viking range. The butler’s pantry would have a striped butcher block counter. The custom order had taken months, but they were finally at the installation phase which was always exciting to him. Once he was done, though, there was another project waiting for him in South Chatham. He didn’t know what Eudora expected him to do with Leah Powell and her bookstore plans. From what little he’d heard, Leah was just a tenant in the house, renting out the retail space downstairs. Any carpentry work was up to the owner, not the renter. Besides, the work he did was expensive. Tenants didn’t invest in rental spaces. Still, his curiosity had gotten the better of him. He looked down now at his shirt and smoothed the front. Much as he’d hated to admit it, he’d taken care to pick out a blue chambray that he knew complemented his eyes.
As he waited in traffic, he tried to focus on work stuff instead of the growing butterflies in his stomach. It was silly. He hadn’t seen Leah Powell since high school, since he was friends with her younger brother, James, and used to go by the Powell house to hang out after soccer practice. She’d paid very little attention to him, though he couldn’t quite blame her. Back then he was an awkward, skinny teen who got tongue-tied around attractive girls. Last he’d heard, she’d stayed in Boston after college. James had at least come home a few times over the years for the odd high school reunion or to visit in summer, but not Leah. He hadn’t seen her in more than a decade.
Beside him on the seat, Scout had his nose pressed against the window. “Almost there,” Luke said. Scout was too intent watching other dogs on the sidewalk to bother flicking an ear in his direction.
It was a surprise to find a parking spot along the street outside the house. Luke cut the truck engine and glanced at the building. From there it looked a bit unloved; the paint was peeling and one shutter hung crooked. Eudora wasn’t wrong about the front steps buckling; that would certainly need to be addressed before customers could tromp up and down them. But the house had good bones, as did most of the historic gems in town, and so far this one seemed no different. He rolled the windows down lower, and a salty breeze blew in from the channel across the way. “Stay,” he told Scout. “I’ll be quick.”
The front doors were glass paneled, so Luke could easily see inside. The place looked empty for a store about to host a grand opening—no real furniture, no books. There was also no sign of Leah. There was, however, a young man unpacking boxes. Luke rapped on the door before poking his head in.
“I’m sorry, but we’re not quite open yet,” the man said. He seemed flustered, and Luke noticed stacks of boxes lined behind the ones he was working on. “We’ll be posting an opening date soon!” he added, but his expression didn’t match the forced cheer in his voice.
“Sorry for dropping in,” Luke said. “My name is Luke Nickerson. I’m looking for Leah Powell?”
The young man gave him a more thorough once-over, hands on hips. “Brad,” he said, coming over and extending a hand. “Is she expecting you?”
It was unclear what Brad’s relationship was in terms of Leah or the bookstore, but Luke had to smile at the protectiveness in his demeanor.
“No, I can’t imagine she is. I’m an old friend,” he added for good measure.
And just like that Leah appeared in the doorway that led to the back rooms. She was talking on the phone, looking more exasperated than Brad. “No, I’m sorry but that does not work at all. We need these shelves immediately.”
She did not seem to notice Brad or Luke and instead paced back and forth through a narrow path between stacks of boxes as the phone call continued.
“She’s a little… preoccupied,” Brad said, watching her with concern. When the phone call and pacing continued, Brad turned to him. “Is there anything I can help you with?”
Luke looked around. “That’s actually why I’m here. A friend said you had a lot of work left to do and suggested I come by and offer my services. I’m a contractor.”
Brad’s doubtful expression washed clean like an Etch A Sketch screen. “A contractor? You don’t say.” He smiled like this was the best news he’d ever heard, and to Luke’s shock he slipped an arm in his. “It’s not up to me, of course,” he said, lowering his voice and leading Luke away from Leah and her pacing, “but we do, in fact, need help. Like, a lot.”
Luke was still out on the porch with Brad inspecting the steps when the front door swung open. Both men looked up. “What’s going on?” Leah asked, eyes glancing briefly off Luke and landing on the steps.
“Good news!” Brad began, but Leah cut him off.
“Are you an inspector?”
For the first time her eyes locked on his, and Luke felt a familiar ripple go through him. Despite the years that had passed, remnants of the teenage girl he remembered were still very much in front of him and easy to piece together, her green eyes just as inquisitive. “Because no one from town hall gave me any warning. We aren’t ready for an inspection yet.”
Luke raised himself to full height and laughed. She had no idea who he was. “Then I guess it’s a good thing I’m not the inspector.”
“Wait.” She stared at him, eyes tracing his face before giving him a full once-over. “Do I know you?”
“Once upon a time you did.” He smiled, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Wondering if he really did look that much different, and hoping that it was a good thing if he did.
Brad’s head swiveled between them as if watching a tennis match. “Leah, this is…”
“Lucas Nickerson?” she cried. A familiar laugh escaped her. “Wow! Hi. I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you at first. You look so different!” Her whole demeanor softened. “I can’t remember the last time I saw you.”
“Actually, it’s Luke. And I think it was your high school graduation party,” he offered. But that wasn’t true. The last time he’d seen Leah Powell he’d sat in the church pew behind her, at her mother’s funeral. She was with her boyfriend, and Luke had spent the better part of the service staring at the elegant line of the back of her neck. Afterward, at the reception, he’d paid hisrespects to James and Mr. Powell but hadn’t been able to find her in the crowd. The last he saw was of her walking out of the church, hand in hand with the boyfriend. He doubted she even knew he had come.
Her reaction now confirmed as much. “Graduation. That was ages ago! And you go by Luke now.” She smiled. “I guess I’ll always think of you as Lucas.”
He didn’t have the heart to tell her that no one had ever really called him that, except her and his mother. Which was just another reminder of how little attention she’d paid him when they were kids.
