He frowned. “I suppose that could be true.”
“I know it is. When I’m down, or I hit a bump in the road, thinking about a happy memory can help me get through the day. I bet you’ve got some special occasions you relive again and again. Like . . . like your first date with Rachel.”
“Yeah.” The corners of his mouth rose. “That was a memorable night.”
“But to an outsider observing your date, it would have seemed ordinary—right?”
“Yes.”
“Like your tours looked to passersby. But for all you know, that was the highlight of somebody’s visit. It might have whetted a kid’s interest in history. Or been part of some couple’s honeymoon. Or given someone who was ill a ninety-minute respite from worry. There are probably people who still remember and talk about the fun they had on your tour. Creating special memories is a worthy occupation, Greg.”
“I never thought of my little tour in such grandiose terms.”
“Maybe you should start.” She let that sink in for a moment, then picked up the papers he’d given her and stood. “This is going to be my reading for the rest of the day. May I call you with any questions?”
“Sure.” He rose, resting his fingertips on the tabletop to steady himself until his balance stabilized. “It was a productive meeting today.”
“I agree. I’m going to put some more thought into finding the initial funding we need, but we’re off to a strong start.” She angled away, but when he touched her arm, she shifted back.
“I’ve never thanked you for giving Rachel a job, but I want you to know I appreciate it. The change of scene is good for her, and she enjoys the work.”
“I was glad to get her. She’s been a huge help—and she’s an exceptional writer.”
“I know. I’ve read some of her stuff. I’m hoping that once we . . .” He gripped the back of the chair, and a muscle flexed in his cheek. “That at some point she’ll finish her degree. She only needs twenty-eight more hours.”
“I don’t see why that couldn’t happen. More and more universities are offering online programs.”
“That’s what I was thinking.” He picked up the empty manila folder and handed it to her. “Thanks for listening to my ideas.”
“Thanks for coming up with them. I’ll see you Wednesday . . . and I may be in touch before that.”
With a lift of his hand, he walked toward the door.
Though his gait wasn’t quite normal, no one would suspect he had a prosthesis. His disability wouldn’t stop him from doing much.
Except be a firefighter.
But there were other career options that would dovetail with his innate entrepreneurial skills.
One in particular, based on all he’d told her about his creative town tour and the ideas he’d come up with for the lighthouse campaign.
That was why she’d laid the groundwork for it today.
A lot of pieces would have to fall into place for her notion to work—but that was beginning to happen.
And if it did, Greg might discover that Pelican Point light would end up playing a far more important role in his life than he’d ever suspected when he’d made it part of his town tour spiel as a teenage entrepreneur.
16
A bag of groceries clutched in each hand, Rachel pushed through the door from the garage into the quiet house.
Different.
Usually Greg played music when he was home alone.
Maybe he was on the computer again, doing more research for the lighthouse project. Since the meeting at church two days ago, he’d been burning up the browser.
And that was fine.
He might not have told her in detail about what transpired during the gathering, but Marci had sung his praises at work yesterday, raving about how he’d taken ownership of the project and offered some stellar suggestions.
It was a prayer answered—if his interest lasted . . . and if it lifted him out of the funk that had darkened their lives for the past eight months.
“Greg? Are you here?” She dropped the bags on the kitchen table and began unpacking them.
Her husband appeared in the doorway, and she smiled as she held up her splurge item. “I got us steaks for dinner. We haven’t used the grill on the patio very much, and I thought—”
“Rachel.”
At his quiet tone and serious demeanor, her lungs deflated. “What’s wrong?”
He moved closer. “Your mom and dad are here.”
She froze. “What do you mean . . . here?”
“They’re in the living room.”
Her stomach bottomed out.
No wonder there was an unfamiliar car parked in front of their house.
But what was going on? Why hadn’t they called first? What had prompted this out-of-the-blue trip?
And how much had they picked up about the state of the hasty marriage they’d warned against?
As if he’d read her mind, Greg spoke again, his volume so low she had to lean closer to hear him.
“I figured out pretty quick they aren’t clued in to what’s been going on in our lives. I just tried to make small talk. We were all very polite, but it’s been . . . awkward.”
That had to be the understatement of the century.
“When did they get here?”
“Twenty minutes ago based on the clock—but every minute felt like an hour. I tried your cell, but you didn’t answer.”
“I left it in the car while I was in the grocery store.” A bad habit she needed to break.
Would break after this incident.
“You need to tell me how much they know . . . and we need to decide how to play this.”
“They don’t know anything.” She leaned back against the counter and massaged her temple. This was a conversation that required strong cups of coffee and an open-ended timeframe.
Instead, they’d have to cover a large swath of ground fast and plan a strategy on the fly.
“What do you mean by anything?” Twin creases appeared on her husband’s forehead.
“I haven’t talked to them since I called the day after we eloped. All my communication has been through email, and then only to provide mailing addresses.
