The Pickle Boat House (23 page)

“Excuse me?”

“It would definitely be a bird.”

“What are you talking about, crazy man? Are you really awake?”

“Your mosaic plaque in the kitchen—it would definitely be a bird.”

“Really,” she said, sitting up against the headboard. “Why do you say that?”

“Because you have a beautiful soul. Did you know that?”

“A very dark soul,” she said, laughing ruefully. Snuggling back up to him, she placed her hand on his chest, over his heart. “You know, your heart is beating fast like a little bird’s.”

He ignored her. “Not at all dark. Maybe to begin with, when I first met you. But now you’re like one of those sun catchers, with light shining through in different colors. It’s like morning light: soft and soothing. And someday the full light of day is going to shine through you again. And I’m sure I will love you just as much then as I do now.”

“Did you say you had nothing planned for today?” she said. “Because I just checked your calendar, and I think it’s full.” With a lighthearted giggle, Van took the edge of the sheet and flung it over both their heads, closing out the rest of the world.

Unlike the last time they had been together, they weren’t concerned about who might see Ryan leaving.

“You know, Van, with the pickle boat house and the Tomato Tavern, I figure these must be our salad days.”

“You are incredibly corny.”

“I know, but I made you laugh, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did. You’re very good at that. It’s one of the many things I love about you.”

“Are you sure you want to love me?” he said.

“I don’t think I have a choice at this point. You really should come with a warning label.”

“I’ll make sure that happens next time,” Ryan said, nuzzling her ear with light little kisses.

“There isn’t going to be a next time,” said Van, and she wiggled around in his arms and kissed him long and deeply.

They spent the rest of the day just enjoying each other’s company, and at the end of it they shared a late meal before Ryan had to leave. He sat rereading Peggy’s letter, with Ernest Pickett’s little dog in his lap. Since Pickett had no immediate family, the authorities had decided that Susie could stay with Van. She seemed to take a particular shine to Ryan, who sat absentmindedly stroking her fur from head to tail. Susie didn’t object, and lay motionless, very close to sleep.

“What’s the deal with the dog?” Van asked.

“I always wanted a dog.”

“I didn’t deprive you,
James
. You were allergic to dogs!”

“What a coincidence. Poodles are hypoallergenic.”

“Ryan, do you want that dog?”

“Yes,” he said, and a big smile spread across his face. He tucked the dog under his arm and headed out the front door. “The first thing we have to do, Susie, is change your name. No self-respecting man would be caught dead with a dog named Susie. And the pink flowered collar goes, too.”

“But it’s a girl dog.”

“That’s irrelevant.” He paused for a minute, looking the little white dog in the face. “Come on, Spot, let’s go.”

Van laughed and just shook her head. She kissed him quickly and stayed on the porch as he walked to his car. In the broad, bright scheme of things, the name didn’t really matter. Only the loving relationship did.

A florist’s van pulled up in front of the house as Ryan unlocked his car door. He watched as the delivery man got out and bounced up Van’s steps with a vase of long-stemmed yellow roses.

“Should I be concerned or jealous?” Ryan asked, pausing before he got in his car.

“Don’t be silly,” said Van. “They’re probably from Richard—one last attempt to get me to change my mind,” she said, pulling a card from the flowers. “Ryan, wait … these are for you.” Puzzled, she began to read: ‘Congratulations on the Tomato Tavern. Will be contacting you soon.’ Well, at least they have good taste in cards,” she said as she flipped the card over to check the brand. “You’ll have to introduce me,” she said, waving a black origami crane for Ryan to see. “Ryan? You obviously didn’t hear a word I said,” she mumbled as she watched his car already disappearing down the road. “Catch you later, busy boy.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
RISE OF THE PHOENIX

Whatever HYA’s new game, the name and rules were unknown to Ryan and Van. It was now a waiting game—the calm before the brewing tempest. Ryan was determined to move his life forward in a new direction and wasted no time in developing the Tomato Tavern from a dream to a destination. It was amazing what money and dedication could build. With no-nonsense Jean handling deliveries and the books, Ryan worked like a whirlwind to transform the shabby old warehouse in the center of town into a snappy English-style pub. He seemed to be catching his stride again after his life-altering insights and revelations to Van. Walking away from HYA had freed his soul, and he had no intention of letting HYA take Nevis.

Graphics of tomatoes still adorned sections of the exterior walls, but the interior was a study in contrasts: bright walls and sleek, rich, dark wood tones—classic lines of a British pub. Once Van saw how much thought and care Ryan put into every detail, she suggested that he find a more fitting name. Together they decided on “the Phoenix”—rebirth from the ashes of death and despair.

* * *

“Sign here, please,” said the delivery man, dropping the shipping invoice onto the makeshift desk in front of the red-haired woman. He held out a cheap disposable pen as he looked around the room.

Jean sighed, lifting her eyes from her pile of papers to another face in the endless procession of delivery men shoving pens at her. “Okay, which delivery are you?”

“Williams Transport, ma’am—balusters and turnings.”

Jean pulled her glasses from the top of her head and scanned the master delivery sheet. She had it memorized. Deliveries had been nonstop since her arrival this morning. She crossed off the company name and finished signing the Williams Transport copy, wearily noting that as the day wore on, her signature had grown larger and more illegible.

“Are we good?” she asked, shoving the paper back across the desk. If you can get in close, stack up what you have over by that yellow cone. Thanks.” She remembered to hand the young man’s pen back and stuffed the receipt into the back of her ledger. If every day was going to be like this, she might have to reconsider her new job. She thought too much of Ryan to leave him in the lurch right now, though. Nevis wasn’t exactly brimming over with jobs, either. She laughed to herself. The only things in Nevis without dust were the backs of the young people networking hard to leave.

Jean picked up her ledger and worked her way through the construction to find Ryan. He was in an interior room, deep in discussion with his architect and the framing contractor. She had to admire his taskmaster attitude. A lesser man would never have gotten the project off the ground, let alone moved it this far along in so short a time. She could hear their apparent disagreement as she drew closer.

“Rip it all out from here to the end,” Ryan was saying, gesturing with his hand as he walked along the newly erected half wall. “This is all wrong. It’s too short. Measure twice, cut once,” he said to the carpenter. “Follow the plans, or I’ll find somebody else who can. Are we straight now on what has to be done?” The carpenter nodded but offered no comment. Ryan nodded in turn, rolled up the blueprints, and began walking away with the architect to inspect the next room.

“Ryan, can I talk to you for a minute?” Jean said. “I’m about to call it a day.”

Ryan whirled around at the sound of his name, his demeanor changing immediately. “Sure, Jean. Sorry. How long were you waiting there?”

“Just long enough to watch you kick some major butt. Very impressive, I might add. Got the invoices for today. We’re short just a couple deliveries.”

“Great, thanks,” he said, taking the ledger and leafing through the book.

Jean clasped her hands behind her back and stared at the top of Ryan’s head as she rocked on her toes.

“Something else, Jean?” he asked as she continued to linger.

“Um, I was wondering … You haven’t, um, filled the one waitress slot?”

“No, still need one more, why?”

“I was, uh …”

Ryan raised his eyebrows.

“… wondering if you might be interested in hiring Marla,” she blurted out.

“Jean, I don’t think Van would be too comfortable with that arrangement.”

“I know, I know. She can be a flirt, but she knows you and Van are together now. And she does have a wonderful, outgoing personality. She’d get along great with the customers.”

“I don’t …”

“You don’t have to give me an answer right away,” Jean said quickly. “She really needs a job right now. Just consider it,” she pleaded. If she doesn’t work out, you can always let her go. I promise I won’t hold it against you.”

“Let me sleep on it, okay? No, wait, on second thought, have her come in and talk to me. I’ll decide after I interview her.”

“Thanks. I owe you one,” she said. She reached up and grabbed Ryan by the neck and gave him a quick, awkward hug that took him by surprise. “See you tomorrow. My butt is dragging. I’m not sure if I can keep up with this pace every day.”

“Don’t get discouraged. I think it should get easier from here on out. Most of our materials are in. Barring something unforeseen, we should be ready to open in a few weeks. Which reminds me, Bennie will be in town late tomorrow. We’ll probably run out for a late supper, if you’d care to join.”

Jean gave Ryan a withering look. “I’ll keep my own social calendar, thank you. Don’t do me any favors. I’m sure you can find another lady friend to keep company with Bennie. See you tomorrow, Ryan.” As she walked away, Jean had to laugh at Ryan for being so blatantly obvious. She didn’t get why everyone wouldn’t just accept that she was done with men and okay with it.

* * *

“I feel like we’re tag-teaming,” Jean said to Van as they greeted each other at the front door. She gave her a high five as they passed.

“I know. You look beat. I’ll talk to the boss and see what I can do to make your work pace a little more tolerable. Ryan is like a demon trying to finish this place. Everyone just needs to slow down. It’ll all get done.” Van could see Ryan move through the rooms, shuffling the paperwork for the day. He had been working around the clock the past few weeks—even sleeping in the half-finished space. Anytime an empty town building was concerned, arson was never far from anyone’s mind.

“Hey, how’s it going?” Van asked, walking up close to give him a hug.

“Not bad, and definitely getting better,” he replied with a smile, tossing his papers back down on the table and pulling her a little closer to nuzzle her neck and ear.

“Quite a storm last night. They’re calling it a
derecho,
whatever that is. I had to pull some big limbs off the deck. The patio table bought the farm, but everything else looks good. Any damage here?”

“Never heard of a
derecho,
but that was one hell of a storm. If you need me to send a carpenter over, just let me know. Got plenty of ’em. This is a tough old place. The power was off for a while, but other than that, we survived intact. So it’s still full steam ahead. If I can get everybody to listen to what I’m telling them and not to what they
think
they should be doing, then we might be ready to open on time. Even the dog won’t listen to me.”

“Poor baby, where is she? I’ll bet she misses old Mr. Pickett.”

Ryan began to whistle, and the jingle of a dog’s tags directed their attention to the little puff of white perking up from under one of the sawhorses on the far side of the room. “Come here, Hoffa, come on!” The little dog raised its head just long enough to see who was calling, and then flopped on its side and went back to sleep.

“See? Damn, dumb dog.”

“Are you deaf? The dog’s name is ‘Susie,’ not ‘Hoffa’!”

“I don’t like ‘Susie’—too girlie.”

“Girl dogs
are
girlie!”

“Doesn’t matter. Besides, she reminds me of someone I used to know in Detroit.”

“I don’t think I want to know. What happened to ‘Spot’? No wonder she doesn’t come. You have her totally confused.”

“Damn, dumb dog,” Ryan repeated, shaking his head.

“What if I started calling you by a different name?”

“Like ‘James,’ for example?” Ryan asked, raising his eyebrows.

Van laughed. “Okay, one point for you, but you know what I mean. Cut the poor dog some slack or I’ll have to take her back. I don’t care how much identity conflict you two share.”

“Nope, nothing doing. That’s too much trauma, Indian giver.”

Van laughed again. “Okay, she has been through a lot, but don’t push me.”

“I meant trauma for
me
. I’m stressing about it already. I think I need a hug at the very least,” he said, waiting for Van to take the bait, which she did with little prompting. As usual, their chaste kiss deepened as the heat between them rose.

Ryan was the first to pull back as the sound of a clearing throat burst the bubble surrounding them. Reluctantly they separated and turned to the contractor, standing in the framed-in doorway.

Ryan heaved a quiet sigh. “Duty—see you later, doll.” He kissed her quickly one more time and took off after the foreman.

“It’s really looking good in here,” Van said as she scurried behind him. “Are you going to hang anything on these walls? They look a little bare. Hey,” she said, a sudden wave of inspiration hitting her. “What about using some things from the museum? We could frame some of the posters and put them up. Not to put any thoughts into your head. I know you have a clear idea of what you want to do.”

“Great idea,” Ryan called over his shoulder as he disappeared from view. “I trust you. Surprise me—bring them over? Hands are kinda full …”

Van stopped. There was no use trying to keep up with him. He was a man on a mission. “No problem,” she called back. “I can think of a few things that would look great in here. Do I have free reign—understanding, of course, that you have veto power? If so, I’ll head over there tomorrow and grab some stuff.”