“I appreciate it. Maybe he got it out of his system. Or at least shifted his focus off Clare and onto me. That’s something.”
“Do us all a favor.” Charlie slapped a hand on Beckett’s shoulder. “Steer clear of him. If you see him hanging around here, near Clare’s, anywhere else in town, you call me. I’ll deal with him. Call your insurance agent, give them my name. I’ll make sure they get a copy of the police report.”
With little choice, Beckett gave his official statement, then went inside to deal with the headache of insurance. By the time he finally made it over to the inn to work, word had spread through the crew. He received much sympathy and plenty of righteous anger on his behalf—and a pot load of advice. He let it all roll over him and took out his frustrations with tools. He imagined Freemont’s smug face in the crown molding every time he shot in a nail.
It didn’t help much, but it was something.
Having a furious Clare rush in was more, and better. She stormed over to his ladder, gripped a rung, her face sharp with temper.
He learned something new. A thoroughly pissed-off Clare’s eyes glowed green as a cat’s.
“I heard as soon as I got into town, but I couldn’t get away until now. I went to look at your truck first. That bastard! You know Sam did that. It’s just like him. Goddamn it! Now I want to punch him.”
“I’d like to see that.” He found his grin coming back as he came down the ladder.
“It’s not funny, Beckett.”
“No, it’s not. But it’s rubber and paint.”
“That’s not the point.” She swung away from him, and the carpenter working with him eased out of the room.
“No, but it strikes me one of the points is this was the only way he could come at me. When I set aside being pissed off, it’s kind of a boost for the ego.”
“Oh for
“There’s that, too. You hardly ever swear. It’s comforting for you to swear on my behalf. My ego just went up a couple more notches.”
“He only did this because you went in there and confronted him.”
“Yeah, so?”
“Which you didn’t have to do.”
“Yes, I did, Clare.”
“Men.” She threw up her hands, circling the room. “Men, men, men. Now I suppose you just have to go back and confront him again, escalate the whole sorry mess.”
He considered. “I could let you talk me out of it.” He smiled at her when she turned to glare at him. “That would be a boost to your ego, I’d say. I’m happy to reciprocate.”
“You’re not planning on it.”
“I’ve had a good time picturing dragging him out into the dealership parking lot and stomping him flat in front of his coworkers and various horrified customers. Him begging for mercy, women fainting. It’s a nice image.”
“Men,” she repeated. “You’re all just boys in bigger packages.”
“Maybe. But then if I did all that, Owen would get to pull the ‘I told you so’ when he had to come bail me out. It’s not worth giving Owen the satisfaction.”
She took a long, calming breath. “That’s something then. I’m so sorry, Beckett.”
“I guess it’ll be worth it if he figures this evens the score and stays the hell away. I needed new tires before winter anyway.”
She crossed to him, framed his face. “My hero,” she murmured, kissing him softly.
“That’s all I get? It’s
She laughed a little, kissed him again. “It’s the best I can do under the circumstances.” She drew away, tipping her head toward the sounds of the tile crew working in the bathroom.
“We’ve got plenty of other rooms.”
She shook her head, walked around to look at the painted walls. “I love the color in here.”
Calm now, she did a slower circle of The Penthouse parlor. “I’ve been trying to decide which room is going to be my favorite, and I can’t. And which room to treat my parents to for their anniversary next year. And I can’t.”
“Pick one for you and me. I’ll make a reservation.”
“Hard to choose, but I’d love it. I have to get back.”
“How about dinner tonight? I’ll take you and the boys somewhere.”
“Book club, but thanks. Ah, we’re decorating for Halloween tomorrow, if you want to come over.”
“Are you kidding? I have major skills in this area.”
“Great, you can carve the pumpkin. The boys are old enough now to realize how lousy I am at it. Come by later. I’ll buy you a cup of coffee.”
“I will. Oh, and thanks for the outrage.”
“You’re welcome.”
Not a bad couple of days, all in all, Beckett decided. All he had to do was delete the hassle of his truck, and things looked good all around. Especially standing with his brothers across the street from the inn as they’d done the morning the tarp came down.
This time, they looked over at the finished front of the inn, including the sign.
“Looks good,” Owen commented.
“Looks damn good,” was Ryder’s opinion.
“Now all we have to do is finish it, furnish it, outfit it, staff it, and fill it with guests.” Beckett stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Should be a piece of cake, considering what we started with.”
He glanced down the street, nodded to the sign outside the gift shop. “Gifts Inn BoonsBoro. It works.”
“Mom and Madeline swear it’ll be ready for the opening Friday night.”
“As long as all we have to do is show up and eat crab balls.” Ryder shifted his gaze to the building beside the inn. “You know she’s already making noises about us getting to work on that place so we can get a bakery back in there.”
“One thing at a time. Let’s just bask,” Beckett suggested.
“Time for basking when we get it finished.” Ryder checked his watch. “And time’s wasting.”
“I need to work with Hope and the webmaster this morning.”
“While you’re at it, call Saville,” Ryder told Owen. “We’re going to be ready for them to bring in the flooring, let it acclimate.”
“It’s on my list. Beck, why don’t you check at Gifts, see if there’s anything that needs doing. Then you can grab us some coffee. It’s frigging cold today.”
“First hard frost forecast for tonight. We’ve still got exterior work to finish. Don’t sneak in the back room with Clare,” Ryder told Beckett as they left him to head across the street. “You’re on the clock.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He took another moment for a solo bask, then started down to look into the gift store.
He had to admit, it looked just fine. Warm and welcoming with its sunny walls, the displays of pottery and handcrafted jewelry, the art hanging on the walls or waiting to be hung.
He checked with Madeline, who opened more boxes of stock, and took down a short list of small chores to be finished before the opening.
Tucking the clipboard under his arm, he walked into TTP.
“Hi, Romeo. Clare’s upstairs.”
He lifted his eyebrows at Charlene—Charlie Reeder’s wife. “Romeo?”
She pursed her lips, made an exaggerated kissing sound. “You’re such a sweetie.”
“True. I need three coffees, large. I’ll go up and say hi to Clare while you’re getting that together.”
“She’ll be glad you did.”
Beckett shook his head at Charlene’s wink, wondered just what TTP put in their coffee these days. Then he climbed the creaking stairs to Clare’s office.
With the phone to her ear, she held up a finger as she offered him a big, bright smile. While she finished the call, he stepped to her window, looked out at the inn again, enjoyed seeing the sign in place.
