Page 36 of The Treasure House

“I was waiting on the bread,” Jake told her sourly. “Which is late.”

“Giving you plenty of time to chop the scallions.” Doris joined us at the counter, evaluating me. “And who’s this little lady? New girlfriend? If you’re getting involved,” she told me, “you should know, love, that he is always this rude.” Doris was a sturdy, broad-shouldered woman, barely five feet tall. She wore bright pink shorts and a shirt covered in yellow and orange polka dots. “People seem to think they’ll thaw him, but this is as thawed as he gets. He was born frosty.”

Jake shook his head at me, as though telling me to ignore her. “Doris, this is Zoe Copeland. She just bought the house on Tinker Street.”

“You’re the girl who bought Marly’s place?”

“Marly’s place? If you mean the house at the end of the street, then yes.” I perked up. I’d been meaning to ask about the family who’d owned the house before me. The real estate agent had been thin on details, and Jake was downright cagey.

“I’m glad it’s sold to a young’un.” Doris gave me a bright look. “Welcome to town. Jake didn’t tell me you were pretty.” She gave him an unsubtle nudge with her elbow.

“Uh, thanks.” I felt myself blushing.

“I’m Doris Laughton from Laughton General Store and Bakery.” She looked me up and down.

“Nice to meet you.” General Store and Bakery. Every store around here seemed to do at least two things. When Flo and I had breakfasted at the café on the corner the last time we were here, we’d discovered it was a café and an art gallery, exhibiting paintings and sculptures made of found objects. It also stocked handmade jewelry crafted from driftwood, shells, and sea glass. And on Main Street, the library also took in dry cleaning and the librarian, Josie, offered pet grooming on weekends from her home on the corner. The gas station was also a surf store.

“We don’t do much baking anymore, though,” Doris told me, lowering her voice as though this news was confidential. “Just the rolls for the lobster shack and the whoopie pies for the café. That’s plenty to keep us going on with. Gary and I have earned our semiretirement after all these years.”

Jake’s phone buzzed. He seemed relieved by the distraction.

“We stock bread and milk and the like,” Doris told me cheerfully. “But for your fresh things, you’ll be wanting the market in Rockport. They deliver too, if you need it. We’re more your emergency kind of store. Like when you run out of sugar or need a stiff drink.”

“We’ll probably be in later,” I told her. “To pick up some coffee and milk and basics.”

“Righty-o.” She pursed her lips, which were as orange as her hair. “Well, Jake. Those scallions won’t chop themselves. Whenever you feel like getting off that phone and doing some actual work…”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Doris,” Jake said blandly, not looking up from his phone. “Thanks for the bread.”

“It’s a wonder he keeps this place afloat,” Doris told me, in a pointedly loud voice. She looked down at the puppy, which was still staring up at Jake with big liquid brown eyes. “You named this dog yet?”

“I’m not keeping her,” Jake said shortly.

Doris rolled her eyes and headed for the door. “Sure, you’re not. Welcome to town, Zoe Copeland. Tell him to name his damn dog.”

“Hud says he can come mow your place day after tomorrow,” Jake told me, putting his phone back in his pocket.

The day after tomorrow… I winced, thinking of all the cleaning up Wayne and I would have to do to make a start on the house before then. “Thank you.” I cleared my throat. “Any idea what it will cost?”

“Depends how much you want him to do, I guess,” Jake said. “But he said he’d give you family rates, so it shouldn’t be too bad.”

“Look at this, Zoe!” Wayne had found some kind of old-fashioned contraption. “It’s an old hand mower!”

“Suni will kill you if you try to take that back home to Pittsburgh,” I warned him. But there was no stopping him. He was in his element.

“Oh, I forgot,” Jake said, as soon as he’d rung up all Wayne’s purchases and grabbed some tools for us to borrow. “I’ve got something for you.”

“I’ll start carrying stuff back,” Wayne told me happily. “It’ll take me a couple of trips.” He gave a practice slash of his scythe as he headed out the door.

“Don’t hurt anyone,” I called after him.

“That thing’s blunt as a wooden spoon,” Jake told me. “I don’t think he could hurt anyone if he tried.” He scooped up his puppy’s leash. “Come on through.”

I followed him through the store, completely at a loss as to what he might want to show me. I couldn’t help but notice the play of muscles in his back as he walked. His sweet little dog skipped alongside him, sometimes tripping over its own feet. Behind the Oxeye Hardware Store (and Lobster Shack) was a neat little yard with flourishing vegetable gardens in raised beds. A shade tree covered half the yard, a wooden doghouse with a red painted roof beneath it. There was a name painted over the doghouse door: Ben. I wondered how long Ben had been gone. I glanced at the new puppy. It might have some big paw prints to fill.

“Here.” Jake walked me to a small shed at the back of the property. He let the puppy off her leash, and she went bounding to a water bowl next to the doghouse. I gingerly stepped into the little shed as Jake pulled a dust cloth off something leaning against the back wall.

It was a beat-up wooden door, with four panes of glass and a brass knocker shaped like a sleeping cat.