Up to the Challenge

burned down, her dream was over. At least as she imagined it. She should have checked the electrical system, but she knew Fisher had all the utilities turned off.

“It’s not on fire but there’s someone else interested in buying it.” Will pulled a mass of dark brown hair over her right shoulder. “I was helping the real estate office field calls from tourists canceling because of Ingrid, and took the call. Some woman up in Richmond wanted to speak directly to Fisher. Said she was calling on someone else’s behalf, and wouldn’t give me a name.”

Sid tried to process the influx of information. Someone else wanted her garage. Someone who didn’t live on Anchor. But …

“Who would want that old garage? And how would anyone in Richmond even know about it?” She paced the length of the counter. “This doesn’t make any sense.” Breathing became difficult so she bent over, rubbing her palms down her thighs.

“I asked in the office and Fisher’s been advertising the place on websites. No one responded before now. This lady sounded legit, Sid. The phones were so nuts, I couldn’t get away to tell you until now.”

Blood pounded in her temples, making it hard to think. “This could be nothing. I mean, once someone gets a look at that building, they’ll never buy the thing. Right?” She shot the question at Will like tossing a hot potato.

“Right,” Will said, nodding her head in agreement. “The place is a dump. Who would want it?” Sid jerked around, and Will rephrased. “I mean no one could have the vision that you have.” Stepping up to the counter, she added, “Why don’t you go to your brother now? He could help you with the down payment, and then you can pay him back.”

“No,” Sid said. She would get that garage on her own or not at all. “Did you give the chick Fisher’s number?”

Will shook her head. “I wouldn’t give out his information, but I took hers and said I’d pass it along.”

“Then that’s it. The message is accidentally lost in the hurricane chaos, and the buyer thinks Fisher isn’t interested in talking. Problem solved.”

The knot in Sid’s chest loosened until she noticed the pained expression on Will’s face.

“You didn’t.”

“I had to give the message to Denise,” Will declared. “I’d asked too many questions about the property and she wanted to know why.” Will’s shoulders fell. “She sent the message off right away.”

An image rose in Sid’s mind. A bonfire on the beach with all her hopes and dreams going up in smoke. There were no other buildings on Anchor that would serve her purposes as well as Fisher’s garage. She’d have to build from scratch. Saving for that would take another ten years at the rate she was going.

“Don’t give up yet,” Will said, startling Sid out of her pity party. “You’re right about the building. What if Fisher wasn’t honest in the ad? What if this buyer doesn’t realize what he’d be getting?” Will’s voice floated up an octave. “What if Fisher is asking too much?”

She had a point. Fisher wasn’t the easiest man to negotiate with. Sid should know. She’d been trying for months.

“The place is pretty run down.” Maybe all was not lost. Sid leaned on the counter. “What would someone do with it besides put in a boat shop?” She shot upright again. “Shit. What if that’s what this is about?”

“We are not buying trouble.” Will took Sid by the shoulders and hunched until their noses nearly touched. “This is one phone call. An inquiry. That’s all. Let’s stay focused here.” With a shake that stirred the bangle bracelets lining her wrist, she added. “We will not panic.”

Interesting coming from the woman who had burst through the door as if the hounds of hell were on her ass. “You’re the one who got me all riled up. Why didn’t you just tell the lady the place is already sold?”

Will jerked back. “Because that would have been lying.” She scuffed a foot across the floor. “And to be honest, I was so surprised it didn’t occur to me. But I still say this is nothing to worry about.”

Sid wanted to believe that. Needed to, or she might as well take the proverbial long walk off a short pier. “Right. Nothing to worry about.”

Nothing but her entire freaking future.

Lucas Dempsey, I need to hire you.”

Not again. He turned to see the Ledbetters charging up the front steps of the restaurant.

“I told you, I’m not for hire.”

“You can tell her that all you want,” Mr. Ledbetter said, following his wife—ex-wife rather—who looked much more put out this time. “She don’t listen worth a flip, and no matter what she tells you, she doesn’t have a case anyway.”

“Let my lawyer be the judge of that.” Gladys’s blue eyes were not dancing this time, and her brown hair looked as windblown as the trees covering the island. “This good-for-nothing’s hammock is up on my roof, and he won’t get it off. I told him to tie it down, but as usual, he wouldn’t listen.”

“There’s a hammock on your roof?” Lucas asked. This story might be worth hearing.

“His hammock!” she yelled, pointing to the hammock-owning offender. “Not like we didn’t know a hurricane was coming. I told him three times to strap that contraption to the porch.”

“How many times do I have to tell you? We’re not married anymore.” Mr. Ledbetter smiled when he said those words. “I don’t have to listen to your damn orders, woman.”

Meaty hands landed on rounded hips. “That thing could have killed someone.”

Frank chuckled. “That would have been an interesting headline in the paper. ‘Woman killed by flying hammock; assumed she didn’t duck fast enough.’”

Lucas stifled the laugh. “I think tragic is the word you’re looking for, Mr. Ledbetter.” He turned to Gladys. “Other than finding someone to help get the hammock off the roof, there isn’t much I can do for you, Mrs. Ledbetter.”

“That’s Ms.”

“Yes. Right.” Lucas wondered if he could render himself unconscious with one good hammer blow to the head. “Have you considered moving?”

“Tell him to get that damn hammock off my roof,” she demanded, ignoring Lucas’s question. “Before the thing slides off and kills me.”

“Heh,” Frank said, stretching his considerable girth along a bench on the porch. “That puppy’s clamped onto the chimney good and tight. It’s not sliding anywhere any time soon.” In a lower tone, he added, “More’s the pity.”

“What’s the ruckus out here?” Tom asked, exiting the restaurant with a beer in his hand.

“Are you drinking that?” Lucas asked, knowing his mother would skin him alive for letting his dad have alcohol.

Tom shot him a look that said Don’t be an idiot and joined Frank at the bench. “Thought I heard your voice. Here.” He handed over the beer, then waited for the man to move over before dropping onto the bench beside him. “Now, what’s the problem?”

“Lucas won’t tell Frank to get his hammock off my roof,” Gladys said, speaking more calmly. “He handled that tree thing for us. He needs to settle this one.”

“You handled a tree case?” Tom’s tone reminded Lucas of a judge instilling order from the bench.

“I … They … Ah, hell.”

“I lost that one,” Frank said. “But I’m not losing this one.”

“Is your hammock on her roof?” Lucas asked.

“Lucas Dempsey, are you calling me a liar?” Gladys charged forward. “You think I’d come all the way over here and make up some cockamamie story about a hammock on my roof?”

Lucas would need something stronger than a beer when this was over. “I’m not calling you a liar, Ms. Ledbetter. I’m just trying to get Mr. Ledbetter’s side of the story.” Addressing the bench again, he asked, “Mr. Ledbetter, is she telling the truth?”

The defendant looked down at his shoes. “It’s up there. But it ain’t hurting anything right now. I’ll get it down … eventually.”

“Get the damn thing off her roof, Frank.” Tom said. “We all know you just make her mad so she’ll talk to you. She’s talking, now go on and do the right thing.”