AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Kit remained quiet and stared at the new mailbox lying on the ground next to him.
“Well,” he said, moving to pick up the flashlight, “I didn’t come to start an argument, and that mailbox isn’t gonna put itself up.”
Kit beat him to it. “I’ll hold the flashlight for you.” She rubbed her forearm across her brow. “I’m not up for another argument today, either.”
Beau resumed working, and with Kit’s help, the new mailbox was securely in place less than fifteen minutes later.
She tested the door, opening and closing it several times, and a satisfied expression appeared on her face. “Thanks again. This was a generous gesture.”
“You’re welcome. You want me to get the old one out of your way?”
“No. I’ll take care of that tomorrow.”
“Good night, then.” Beau grabbed his post hole digger and flashlight, then started up the dirt road. He paused to say over his shoulder, “There’s a meeting next Monday night at the community center. Viv and I are looking to expand, and I’ll be pitching our plan and sharing some ways our operation is having a positive impact on the island. It’s at seven, and it’d be great if you could come. I’d love the opportunity to change your mind. That is, if you’ll still be around then?”
“Will Viv be there?”
Considering the state she was in this morning? He shook his head. “I don’t know.”
Kit watched him silently for a moment, her expression guarded, then said, “I’ll think about it.”
* * *
Please don’t hesitate to call if there’s anything I can do.
Beau
Kit read the sympathy card once more and looked out the window of her childhood bedroom. The new mailbox, sturdy and clean, stood proud among the weeds in the morning light, making the overgrown front lawn look even more unruly by comparison. But the spark of anger that had assailed her at the sight of the vandalized mailbox had eased, and strangely, just a glimpse of the new one Beau had installed last night had lifted a tiny bit of the weight that had pressed on her shoulders since she’d returned to Hope Creek.
Ithadbeen a generous gesture . . . no matter whom Beau had done it for. And the tender note in his voice last night when he’d spoken of Cal and Evelyn had stirred a familiar longing deep in her core. A bittersweet flutter comprised of a speck of hope and a bushel of disappointment—the same emotion that had hung over her years ago, every time she’d admired Beau from afar.
He’d changed. That clean-cut boyish face was now lined with blond stubble; his trim, model-like frame had filled out with hard muscle; the look in his blue eyes seemed sharper, keener; and his smile had roughened, the tempting curve of his mouth not bending as fully or as easily as it had in the past.
Her mouth twisted. What an aggravation her crush on Beau Sutton had been. Back then his mere presence had been enough to turn her head and lift her eyes his way, and even though she’d told herself he was just a boy—and, eventually, just a man—like any other, her heart had fought hard against letting the dream of him go.
Viv had noticed him, too, and the same admiration had lit her eyes as she’d watched Beau walk along the neighboring Sutton dock. She’d bumped her thigh against Kit’s as they’d sat on the end of their own dock, her gaze still on Beau. “Imagine that,” she’d whispered. “Sturdy, gorgeous, and safe . . .” She’d looked away, frowned at the cordgrass bending with the wind in the distance. “Ain’t no chance of that.”
But Kit had held on, all the way up to the day Beau had married Evelyn Hampton. That had made letting go of the dream easier. No less painful, she supposed, but easier.
Only, it’d surprised her to discover that Beau had noticed her at least once. Even more so to hear him say he’d been jealous of Royal . . . and her.
You were always smiling back then.
The sad fact being that she had—at some point over the years—stopped smiling. As had Royal . . . and Viv.
She shook her head slightly, placed the sympathy card on the nightstand beside her bed, and refocused on the new mailbox. That one tiny improvement highlighted the plethora of other imperfections around Teague Cottage: the knee-high weeds, forestlike grass, and banged-up screen enclosing the front porch. Not to mention the inside . . .
Kit left the window and frowned at the twin beds occupying the room. Only one—Viv’s—had been made up with sheets and a quilt, but a thin coating of dust on the headboard and quilt hinted that the bed had been left unoccupied for quite some time. The second bed had been stripped and the mattress left bare, and a pile of dirty clothes, out-of-date magazines, and old wadded-up newspapers cluttered it from one end to the other.
Clearly, at some point over the years, Viv had decided to strip Kit’s bed and put it to good use.
Kit rubbed the back of her neck and made a mental note to dig through her childhood belongings, which Viv had shoved into one of the closets. She needed to locate her pillow. Viv’s bed had been good enough to crash on the past two nights, but her pillow was too firm for Kit’s liking and had left her with a headache two mornings in a row now.
She left the bedroom and walked to Royal’s room, resisting the urge to glance at the closed door that led to the guest bedroom. Down the hall, in the kitchen, pots and pans clanged, a sure sign Mackey was awake and tackling breakfast.
The door to Royal’s bedroom was ajar, and she nudged it open. He lay on the bed amid the rumpled sheets, just as he had for most of the two days since her return. With the exception of the two hours they’d spent on the water, spreading Sylvie’s ashes and saying their silent goodbyes.
“Dad.” She walked over to the bed and touched his shoulder. “Wake up.”
