Hazel clears her throat and my eyes move to her. She raises her silver brows, seemingly concerned.
Mentally shaking myself, I sit up straight and try to focus my thoughts. “Go ahead and tell the Paulsons we’ll cover the cost of repairing the garage door… Considering it was our fault.”
My eyes cut to Mikey, our nineteen-year-old employee who’s working here for the summer and accidentally drove a forklift intohisparents’ garage.
Stanley proved that the kid got his license last summer, but he still seemed unsure about hiring him on his break. He, Hazel, and I agreed that putting him on the project for his own house might light a fire under his ass to do better.
Apparently, the model of forklift we use is different from the one he was tested on.
“You can take it out of my paycheck.” He ruefully shrugs.
Puffing out my cheeks on a deep exhale, I tell him, “I was fully planning on it. Expect to see half your checks for the rest of the summer.”
He grimaces and agrees. Usually, I’d have more patience for a new employee, especially one who’s just a kid. There’s no leeway to offer Mikey right now. I know I won’t cut his wages, though. He’s working to put himself through his second year of college, and thanks to my stepdad Paul, I have a hefty trust that I rarely dip into.
Since moving here, I’ve made more withdrawals than ever before. Doing it for this cause is worth it in my eyes, but I’ll only forgive a mistake of this caliber once.
“That’s all for this week,” I tell the construction crew—project and safety managers, workers, and foremen. There’s about fifty-five people in this meeting, but it’s only one of four I hold a week with the employees. Between Maddon Construction and the hardware store, we have just under a hundred and fifty employees. I’m doing my best to get to know all of them. “I have a meeting later today that I’m hoping will keep us busy for the rest of the year, but I’ll have more information next week.”
Everyone breaks apart, either leaving for an afternoon project or their lunch breaks.
Stopping next to me, Hazel asks in a low voice, “Would that meeting be with Pippa Brown?”
The question surprises me. I hadn’t mentioned to anyone that I was going to talk to the owner of the local dance studio. It was Stanley’s suggestion, but one he only made last night when I had dinner at his house.
Apparently, Pippa has been toying with the idea of a complete renovation for years. There are multiple stages, changing areas, practice studios, seating areas, and more. I remember it from my summers here. My cousin Mia was a dancer our entire childhood and learned from Pippa herself.
She was ready to start work this summer, but put the project on hold when the business transfer became public knowledge. I didn’t want to come off too strong when I first arrived. It’s been three weeks, and Stanley thinks it’s time I formally introduce myself. Pippa probably remembers me as their nephew, but I need to shed that perception of me. Sooner rather than later.
“That would be the one,” I confirm slowly, bracing for bad news.
She shakes her head, looking helpless. “She’s been dangling that project in front of Stanley’s face for a while. Don’t get your hopes up.”
Her words aren’t threatening, but cautionary. It has been much harder than I anticipated to find my footing in town, but I never expected I’d be struggling with the business, especially so soon. The workload is full right now, thankfully keeping the crew busy. Those projects were all scheduled before I stepped in, and we aren’t bringing in as many future projects as the company typically does.
For the hundredth time since moving here, anxiety fills my stomach. I have no idea what I’ve actually gotten myself into.
I don’t have time to let the town come around to me and my new position. Something needs to changenow.
Sighing, I twist my water glass on the table. The ice has melted and left a small puddle of water. My focus stays there as I tell my cousin, Lucas, and his husband about my meeting with Pippa. If that’s what you can call fifteen minutes of me practically begging for work while she gives me a pitying look.
“I didn’t expect much going into it,” I admit, “but I figured she’d give me at least half an hour to finish the pitch.”
Lucas clicks his tongue. “Pippa’s a hard-ass, and she isn’t interested in wasting anyone’s time.”
Between Pippa’s influence and Aunt Willa’s, Mia’s entire personality makes a lot more sense—and explains why she’s such a badass lawyer
“Why even agree to a meeting then?” I ask, my petulance silently echoes through the kitchen, my leg starting to shake in rhythm to it.
“Because you’re Stanley’s nephew,” Knox says honestly.
My cousin nods behind him. “It’s unlikely that Pippa would give this project to another construction company, not when ours is the only one in Amada Beach. It needs to start soon, though.”
Confused, I shake my head. One of the hardest things about moving to a small community is how organically and artfully everyone’s lives are weaved into each other’s. While I only have the details I’m given or observe over time, Lucas understands the nuances of the town members.
Lucas continues, “The dance studio has a winter recital every year. It’s one of two annual events, but the more ‘important’ of the two.” He uses air quotes.
See, this is a perfect example; I had only ever visited during the summer, so I’m familiar with the summer recital. It’s a large, week-long event at the dance studio. Each age group puts on a recital, usually featuring a short narrative. It’s one of the first signs of summer in Amada Beach, and most of the town made an effort to attend at least one show.
