She kept on going, her tennis shoes making little squeaks against the pavement as she walked. Most of her summer clothes were already at Gigi’s, and during her stay in San Antonio, Emily had packed up all of her worldly possessions and arranged to have them shipped to the island. She’d had a lovely, bittersweet visit with Jewel. They’d hugged and cried and made promises to always, always keep in touch, and Emily knew they would. A friendship like theirs could survive the distance.
In Emily’s wallet was a cashier’s check made out to Margaret O’Reilly-Callaghan-Harper-Smith for the full amount of the loan, and another cashier’s check with the balance of Emily’s money to be deposited into the Trillium Bay Savings & Loan. It felt very good to be paying her grandmother back, and it had felt very, very good to close on that disaster house. And it felt very, very, very good to be back home on Wenniway Island.
During her long day of travel from San Antonio to Michigan, Emily had time to think and plan and strategize about her future. For all the good that would do. Life had a way of shifting under her feet like quicksand, and she had learned to just make the best of it. Like Gigi always said, “When God closes a door, he shoves you out the window.” Emily knew this lesson better than anyone, so making long-term plans was probably pointless, but one thing she knew for certain about her future? Ryan Taggert wasn’t going to be in it.
He’d tried to call her twice while she was gone, but she didn’t even listen to the messages. What could he possibly say that would make up for the fact that he’d tricked an old lady into selling her land to Taggert Property Management when she was really selling it to the Mahoney sisters? That was despicable, and it was a clear demonstration of his priorities. Business came first. People and their feelings came second.
The truth was, he’d all but lied to Emily, too, and that betrayal cut deep. Not because Mrs. O’Malley’s property was that important to her, but because his dishonesty revealed the core of who he was: a man more concerned about money than integrity. And the fact that he was willing to build something right in front of Gigi’s cottage, laughing with his brother about how it would ruin the view for Gigi’s place? A place he knew Emily had put her heart and soul into renovating? Well, that revealed exactly where she fell on his list of priorities. At the bottom. For all she knew, he’d build that three-story bed-and-breakfast and put the trash dumpsters right behind it so everyone sitting on the porch of Gigi’s freshly remodeled cottage would smell nasty, foul old garbage instead of lilacs and fudge. That stunk, and so did he. And so did her broken heart. She’d let herself fall for him. For the soulful gazes and wistful smiles. For the muscles and the kissing and the amazing sex. She’d let herself believe it was real when she should have known better. It wasn’t real.
But she wasn’t going to let that stop her now. Her broken heart would mend. She didn’t need a man in her life, and she certainly didn’t need one like Ryan Taggert. And she’d figure out some way to keep the view from the cottage pretty, too. Tall trees, pretty flowering shrubs, something. And if she couldn’t buy Mrs. O’Malley’s house, she’d buy some other cottage. Delores Crenshaw was looking none too healthy, after all, so Emily had options. She’d figure out a way. She always did, and she and Chloe would be just fine.
Thinking of Chloe, Emily picked up her pace. She was eager to see her daughter but needed to stop by the cottage first to see if any progress had been made in her absence. She trusted that her dad had kept his word and stopped by, but that didn’t mean much had gotten accomplished. Her crew had all the supplies they needed to get most everything finished, but, well, she knew how often things went wrong when she was there, so she could only imagine what had happened while she was gone.
It was nearly six in the evening as she walked up the steps and heard voices, laughter, and the sound of work. At this time of day? Either that was a good sign or a very, very bad sign. She opened the door and was amazed, like Dorothy landing in Oz. Her crew had made tremendous progress! The kitchen cabinets and counters were installed, the floors gleamed, the light fixtures hung in just the right spots, the broken tiles around the fireplace had been replaced, and even the furniture had been arranged. What. The. Hell? The place looked amazing.
“Miss Chambers!” Tiny said. “Welcome back. What do you think?” He spun slowly in a circle, arms outstretched, and she couldn’t help but notice he was wearing neither his leg splint nor his electric dog collar, and he had on a new clean shirt. He looked like a whole new man. That Gloria Persimmons was having a very positive effect on him.
“I’m shocked, Tiny. In the best possible way. Everything looks wonderful.”
“Hiya, boss lady,” Horsey said, strolling through the room with painting supplies in his hand. “Glad to have you back. We were just cleaning up.”
“Namaste,” Georgie said as she and Yoga Matt followed close behind him. Matt smiled and gave her a nod.
“Wyatt and Garth already left for the day, but all the wiring is finished. Just a few switch plates left to install and a few other things. I left the punch list on the kitchen island if you’d like to take a look,” Tiny said.
“I am speechless, Tiny. I can’t believe how much you’ve all accomplished in just five days.”
“Well, we had a little help.”
She looked back at her foreman. “Help from whom?’
“From the Taggerts. They’ve been here the past couple of days and even brought over a few guys from the Clairmont. More hands sure make things go faster. Especially hands that know what they’re doing.”
Ryan’s hands certainly knew what to do, but she didn’t want to think about that right now because she was mad at him. Very, very mad. “Ryan and Tag have been helping? Why?”
Tiny’s face was guileless. “I don’t know, ma’am. I guess you’d have to ask for yourself. Tag’s not here, but Ryan’s upstairs replacing some windows.”
He was here? Ryan was here? She wasn’t really ready for that confrontation. But why on earth had he done this work? Guilt? Some pointless apology? It was too late for that.
“If you don’t mind, we were just heading out for the day,” Tiny added, “but we’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning.” He picked up the enormous tackle box that served as his lunch box and made his way to the front door. The others followed, calling out their goodbyes and smiling broadly at her as they passed. They were proud of themselves, and she smiled back, because she was proud of them, too.
But Ryan was upstairs, and she was too curious to resist. She set down her travel bag and made her way up the steps. Slowly, though her heart was thumping as if she’d sprinted all the way from the boat dock. She heard some tapping in the bedroom on her left, so she walked in, and yep, there he was in faded jeans and a white undershirt, putting a glob of spackle on the wall with his finger. His back was to her so she got to admire those muscles for a second before he turned around and she’d have to remember why she was mad at him. Because she was mad. Very, very mad.