Hunks, Hammers, and Happily Ever Afters (21 page)

Sophie tucked her arm into the crook of Gabe’s, while Marie did the same on the other side. He tightened his arm against his side, pulling her just a fraction closer. She noticed he didn’t do that with his other arm, which nearly made her blush. She cleared her throat and looked around Gabe as they walked to see Marie. “When Grandpa was in the hospital, he didn’t talk much. But one time when I was alone with him, he grabbed my arm. Really hard, which was unusual for him. He told me, ‘Make sure you get the box to Marie. You know the one I mean. I meant to give it to her last time.’ I thought he was delirious, because I didn’t know anyone named Marie and I don’t know of a box. Do you have any idea what box he was talking about?”

Her brow furrowed and she seemed to think hard. Finally, she shook her head. “I don’t. I’m sorry.”

Sophie shook her head. “If I knew, I’d give it to you. I’ll ask the attorneys, though. Maybe they know.” They walked for a few more steps and she couldn’t help but blurt out. “I’m sorry you weren’t there at the end. We didn’t know to call you.”

Marie stopped cold, pulling her arm from Gabe’s, her face stricken. “You two go on ahead. I’ll be down in a bit.” Her voice shook just a bit and Sophie realized she was about to cry. 

She opened her mouth to say something, but Gabe nudged her with an elbow and shook his head as Marie quickly walked away down the covered path. He kept walking, propelling her forward. “Give her a few minutes,” he said softly.  “It’s been difficult for her since Mr. Will died.”

Sophie felt like a heel. “I really didn’t know. I feel horrible. I wish he would have said something. At least, if he did, nobody mentioned it.”

They reached the stairs and he walked carefully, slowly, as though she was fragile. It was sweet, but unnecessary. “Was Marie correct? Would your family have objected to their romance?”

A sharp, bitter laugh burst out of her. “Oh, absolutely. My parents and uncle would have had a fit. They would have thought she was a gold digger.” Gabe got an odd look on his face, and shook his head, not understanding, so she explained. “They would think she was dating him to get money out of him. Money is everything to my parent’s generation.”

“And to yours?” he asked carefully, stopping her before they rounded the last corner.

“My sisters are like that too. And one brother. My baby brother is closer to me. We want to make our own way. I like working with my hands, and he signed up for the Peace Corps. He digs wells in Africa. My parents think we’re both nuts, because neither job pays very well.”

Gabe’s answer was swallowed by a dozen elderly people suddenly descending upon them, talking over the top of each other so quickly, and in so many languages, that she couldn’t keep up. Everyone was touching, hugging, laughing, crying. The air was filled with a thousand spices. It was complete sensory overload and she found herself spinning around in a circle, trying to listen to everyone. She wasn’t even sure she managed to get her name out more than once, but it didn’t matter because everyone seemed to know who she was.

She was grateful when Gabe finally stepped in and put a hand on the small of her back to guide her toward a row of tables that had been set up to hold a dozen warming trays and crockpots. “Friends,
please
! Let her eat. It has been a very long day for her. We only have to meet her. She has to meet all of us.”

That seemed to settle everyone down and a line formed behind her. Soon her plate was loaded with a wide variety of ethnic foods that everyone swore was
Will’s favorite dish
. It nearly made her laugh, because every time she had dinner with her Grandpa, he wanted meatloaf, mashed potatoes and green beans, which was about as far from
ethnic
as you could get.

But amongst the Thai curry, spicy enchiladas, eggplant parmigiana, and seafood gumbo—the combination of which was going to give her a bad case of heartburn around midnight—was a simple meatloaf. Tiny bits of perfectly cubed onions dotted the ground beef amongst the herbed bread crumbs. The proportions made it so every bite was identical in flavor. The topping was more barbeque-sauce-meets-salsa than ketchup, but it was delicious. It was dense, moist and melted in her mouth. If this is was the meatloaf Grandpa had been trying to duplicate when they went to restaurants in Texas, it was no wonder he always seemed disappointed with his meal. It was
amazing
!

She was sitting on the edge of a concrete bench eating her second helping of meatloaf when Marie appeared and sat down next to her. She was carrying a scrapbook and didn’t wait until Sophie swallowed the bite she was chewing before she spoke. “I’m glad you like my meatloaf. Will always said he did.” Her eyes were red, the skin puffy. But she started talking fast, as though slowing down would start the tears again. “I wanted to show you this. It’s important to me that you understand the side of your Grandfather you didn’t see.”

Gabe came up just then, once again fending off some of the people who were trying to press in on her. She was starting to realize that he was sort of a mother hen to the guests. They all looked to him for direction. It was rare to find a hotel manager that could instill that sort of following with guests—even when a family had been there several days or a week. She was starting to realize why her Grandpa had thought about giving him the business outright.

She finally swallowed and nodded, looking back at Marie. “Yes, please. I’d love to see what you have. I didn’t see Grandpa all that often after I graduated. I still remember him mostly sitting in his office, doing paperwork.”

The older woman opened the book and the first photo was a self portrait, Grandpa pointing the camera at the mirror. Behind him, in the reflection, was Marie, kissing his cheek. There were also a good number of the people around the pool, all smiling for the camera.
That’s weird.
“So all of you come to visit at the same time? Is this like a convention or reunion where you all stay here?”

Gabe sat down on the other side of her. “No, no. This is our home, as it was Mr. Will’s. He visited other places, but this was his home. This is where he came to be himself . . . where nobody judged him or asked anything of him.”

Wait. “Excuse me? You all
live
here?” She pointed around to the circle of people who had crowded around to look at Marie’s book. “All the time, not just a few days? This isn’t a motel?”

Gabe shrugged. “Yes, it is a motel. But yes, we all live here. This is our home; our community. People come, people go, but the rooms are full. A motel, yes?”

Her brain went into a tailspin. So much of what she planned for the motel didn’t include month-to-month rentals. “Um . . . okay. That’s a lot to wrap my brain around right now. Can we look at some more pictures for a few minutes?”

She turned a page. “Here we are biking on the Gulf. We rented a motor home for a whole month and drove all over the state, fishing and being tourists. I’ve lived in Louisiana all my life, but had never been a tourist in my own state. It was great fun.”

There was a whole series of photos of Grandpa and Marie, looking every inch a couple of lovebirds. Why wouldn’t he have told her? Why keep all the happiness she saw in his beaming face, from
her
? “I don’t understand why he never told
me
. I’m not like my parents. I would have loved to meet you with him.”

Marie gave a sad little smile and a shake of her head. “It just wasn’t his way. He segregated his life so much. Business never intruded here, and here never intruded in his daytime world. I understood that and never tried to take more from him than he was willing to give. I think it’s why he was able to let go of his other life when he came here. Nobody pushed.”

The tiny elderly woman with the loud voice nodded and tapped her cane on the blue tiles. “This is a safe place, a restful place. He was happy here. We all are.”

Gabe nodded and pointed across her lap at the scrapbook, where Marie had turned another page. “The pool was where he was happiest. He was the one who started the pool parties, with everyone bringing dishes.”

Marie laughed. “No, Gabe. He always considered the parties your doing. You suggested it once when old Bobo Lafayette—”

“God rest his soul,” one of the men added, and everyone nodded.

“Was feeling sickly.” Marie continued over the murmuring. “His family couldn’t come to see him and you thought it would be nice for everyone to make some food, but in a way that it didn’t hurt his pride.”

Gabe waved his hand, including the group in the statement. “Pride is important to many people, many of us. He didn’t want charity—as though he couldn’t care for himself. But family takes care of its own. He was fed and he felt proud of his family.”

The woman she thought she remembered was Mrs. Hernandez reached forward and ruffled his hair, making the crown jingle. “Always you think of others,
miho
. It is why Mr. Will trusted you to watch over the Starlight.”

The next hour was spent looking at the last decade of her grandfather’s secret life. Surfing, hiking, motorcycles. Everything was movement, activity and he was smiling in every picture—such a different image of him than Sophie had ever seen. “When he came to Texas, he was always so serious. My family always said I was the only one who could make him laugh. But it was an effort. You seemed to manage it without trying.”

Marie shrugged. “He was always happy,” Marie said. “It was what attracted me to him.”

“Not always.” Gabe shook his head. “No, at first, he was sad. It took time to make him feel happy. He had to . . . how did he phrase it? Ah, yes.
Alter his perception
.”

His perception? Of what?

But she didn’t get a chance to ask, because an old man who Sophie seemed to recall was named LeBeaux, started to wheeze rapidly, doubling over and then dropping to his knees. Gabe was immediately on his feet, moving to help the gentleman to a chair to sit. But Sophie nearly beat him. She’d seen a lot of elderly people get overexcited. “Breathe slow, sir. Take your time.” While Gabe helped him find and get the cap off an inhaler in his pocket, she went to the table and poured him a glass of water. The man clutched at the inhaler as Gabe pressed it down. He sucked on it like a straw and then held his breath. Sophie remembered using an inhaler when she would get bronchitis as a child, and he was doing the exact right thing, holding the medicine in his lungs as long as he could.

Moments later, he started to cough, his frail body heaving with the effort. Gabe patted his back until Sophie offered him the water. Like the inhaler, he grabbed the cup like a lifeline and drained the entire glass. Only then did he get control of himself. He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. “Thank you both. I shouldn’t have been laughing so much. But I wanted come to meet you and talk about Will. He was a good friend.”

“I understand,” Sophie said, patting the hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure he wouldn’t have wanted you to overdo, though. Maybe it’s time to call it a night.” It was well past dark, and she really was tired. She looked at Gabe and the rest of the people. “It’s been wonderful. Truly. I know Grandpa would have appreciated all your kind words.”

Gabe agreed. “If everyone could take your food back with you, we’ll leave the clean-up of the decorations for the morning.”

“Oh, that would be nice,” Sophie said. “I really would like to spend some time looking at the float.”

“I must finish the roof in the morning,” he replied. “But you’re welcome to take all the time you want looking at it. It actually moves back into the shed quite easily. And it’s rainproof so even if we get a shower tonight, it’ll be fine.”

The roof! She’d completely forgotten completely about that. Had it only been a few hours ago that she’d arrived? But now that she was thinking about it, she could hear the flapping of the plastic being held down by the packages of shingles.

As far as she was concerned, half the gain meant half the pain. She didn’t say it, but she was going to beat him up to the roof in the morning and show that she planned to be a full partner in this business.

CHAPTER THREE

Gabe woke with a start. He’d been having a lovely erotic dream about Sophie and lay in a haze under the covers, his body tense, hungry and unwilling to leave the dream so easily. The warm sheets and blanket pressed against his throbbing erection deliciously. He kept his eyes closed, hoping to drift back to the dream where Sophie’s fingers were dug into his shoulders, her cries underneath him urging him to take her over the edge. He wanted that; needed it. Her fragrant hair lay splayed across the pillow and he finally buried his face in it, soaked in the smell as he moved his hips. Slowly at first, and then faster he pressed into her, his breath lowering into harsh pants as he dug his fingers into the sheets. 

A loud, dull thump sounded above him, but distant. Then a second one. That was what had woken him. He remembered now.

Had someone fallen? Was there a burglar? Like last night, his duties overcame his arousal and his hard cock wilted as he threw off the covers and grabbed the pair of cargo shorts he’d been wearing last night.

Now a third thump and he was fully awake, his mind running through a dozen scenarios while he felt around on the table next to the bed for his phone. Daylight was just edging the corners of the curtains. It was brazen for a thief, if that’s what it was. Or could Mr. LeBeaux be having another fit?

His shoes were next. Gabe grabbed a flashlight from next to the door and went outside, swinging the security bar across the opening so the door didn’t lock behind him. Another thump. It sounded like it was coming from higher up than Mr. LeBeaux’s place. Walking out into the parking lot, he looked up to see someone standing on the steep slant of the roof. Dressed in dark jeans and a dark red hooded jacket, the person was easily scrambling across the sheets of underlayment. Another thump and this time, he could see what the noise was. It was the sound of a nail gun into double stacked 2x2s. They were holding the weight of the person on the roof. “Hey!” He shouted as quietly as he could; many of the guests would still be sleeping. “What are you doing?”