“I don’t. I just watch a lot of television, but I guess I missed the shows with the wool underwear.” Lucy stopped, frowning. “You mean like those things they wore in the old Westerns, with the flap on the butt?”
“No, although they do make those. Here, just look at them.”
Lucy caught the bundle of clothes her grandmother tossed to her and was pleasantly surprised to find a separate top and bottom—not a flap on the butt—made of a fine, smooth wool. They were black and wouldn’t add any bulk under her clothes.
“These could probably pass for leggings and a long-sleeved shirt if I put a cardigan or tunic over them,” she said.
“Maybe where you come from, you could,” Gran agreed. “But around here, people would know you’re running around in your wool underwear. To answer your question, they’re mine, but I rarely wear them because they’re too long for me and bunch up and I found a shorter pair from a different company. And yes, they’ve been washed. They’re yours if you want them.”
“Thank you, Gran. I probably won’t have a lot of use for them in Miami, but I’ll be grateful for them tomorrow morning, for sure.”
“You can leave them in the dresser drawer in there with some dryer sheets to keep them fresh. You’ll have them when you come visit because Miami’s definitely not going to help you acclimate to coastal Maine.”
“Thanks, Gran.”
“Did you get those bins you were after?”
“No, I didn’t,” Lucy confessed as a guilty flush spread over her cheeks, as if Gran cared if she bought the bins or not. “I visited Willow instead.”
“I get so much joy from you two girls finding each other again. You drank a lot of coffee while you were there, did you?”
“Decaf only,” she said. “And I walked from the Scuttlebutt to the market and back, hoping to tire myself out.”
“Good thinking. I’ll put those groceries away while you start getting your stuff together. And mine won’t fit you, so you make sure you ask Nick to borrow a good pair of his wool socks. Nothing ruins a day faster than cold feet. He works outside, so he’ll have some good ones.”
“I won’t forget, though knowing Nick, he’ll probably have a pair set out for me before I even get there.”
“That’s the truth. He’s such a good man, that one.”
Lucy glanced at her grandmother to see if she might be hinting around at something, but Gran had her back to her, putting the butter in the fridge.
Rather than responding to that, Lucy grabbed her tote bag and went into her room. Gran had already helped her pick out the clothes that would be comfortable, but also warm. They included a thick sweater with a hood, and then a windbreaker Gran had picked up for her in a thrift shop in South Carolina. She packed it all into a bag, along with the wool underwear. Then she debated on what she should bring to sleep in.
They’d never really nailed downwhereshe would be sleeping. She might end up on his couch, and he lived with two of his brothers, so she threw a pair of leggings and a long T-shirt into the bag.
She’d bring them, and then just secretly hope she ended up not needing them.
* * *
“It’s good to see you, Nick.”
“You, too, Coach.”
And it was. Nick missed hanging out with the man who’d coached and mentored him from a kid with nothing going on to a guy accepted to a D1 school on scholarship. It was a big thing for a football coach in a small regional high school to have one of his guys go all the way, and Nick had been on his way. Coach McCabe had cried the day Nick told him he was dropping out and coming home to Wayward Harbor.
“I reach out to you every year about this time,” Coach said, leaning back in his creaky chair. “What brought you in this time?”
“I feel like I’m in a good place.”
“You know I’ll be glad to have you. Hell, don’t tell Andy, but I wish my assistant coach spot was open.”
Nick laughed, shaking his head. “I can’t make that kind of commitment. I have a lot on my plate, and even though I want to make time for something that makes me happy, I want to do something nonessential. I’m happy to help out and coach and mentor wherever I’m needed, but I don’t want anybody in a position to be let down if I drop the ball.”
“I understand,” Coach said. “You’ve got a lot to teach those boys, and I’ll be grateful for whatever time you can give us.”
“I’m the grateful one, Coach.”
They shook hands, and then Coach had a meeting with a teacher about a player’s grades, so Nick headed back to town. He’d only had one cup of coffee that morning, but he was riding so high after the meeting, he didn’t even need the caffeine.
