Unraveled (11 page)

Lauren curled up on the window seat in the loft, her laptop open on the cushion next to her. A steady rain pelted the window and fog rolled in off the water. An incoming email caught her attention. It was from a friend of the Putnams, a physician who worked for a family practice in Portland.

Scrolling through the email, Lauren’s pulse increased as she read the details. The practice was hiring experienced medical assistants and she’d received an ‘impressive’ recommendation from Dr. Putnam. The message indicated she should contact the business manager if she was interested.

Despite the townhouse age, its rent wasn’t cheap. There was enough in her savings account to cover August, but after that things could get tricky. Not to mention a down payment on a different car if the Honda was, in fact, toast. Given the circumstances, she wasn’t about to ask her parents for a loan.

Clicking the browser closed, Lauren sighed and stared out the window. A message like that couldn’t be ignored indefinitely, but the thought of leaving her family right now sent a wave of anxiety coursing through her.

She eyed her suitcases still lined up against the wall. If they sat there much longer, she wouldn’t have to unpack them. Maybe a hot bath would get her motivated. But the claw foot tub in her old bathroom downstairs was probably clean and awaiting guests. She would have to make do with a shower.

The bathroom had not received the same attention as the rest of the loft. Mom and Dad really needed to step up their game in here. The faded wall paper screamed 1987. Faint pink smudges of nail polish still stained the laminate countertop. While she waited for the water to warm up, she peeled off her sweaty clothes and dumped them in the hamper. Rummaging under the sink, she found a bottle of body wash.
Almond coconut vanilla
. Twisting off the top, she sniffed.
Not bad
.

A knock sounded on the door.

“Lauren?” Dad called.

“I’m in the shower, Dad.”

“You have a phone call. It’s Blake.”

Her heart skipped a beat. Why would he call her?

“Can you take a message?”

Dad paused. “Sure.”

His footsteps were heavy on the stairs. Although she planned to hang out and unpack, curiosity might drive her downstairs to get Blake’s number. How ironic. After the hours they spent talking on the phone in high school, she still had his parents’ number memorized. But he probably wasn’t sitting at home with his parents. He had a business to run, maybe plans to grab dinner with that blond who draped herself all over him at Jess’s.

“Stop it.” She scolded, her voice echoing off the tiled wall. She gave up the right to know how Blake spent his evenings when she left town. His free time was no longer her concern.

Lathering shampoo in her hair, she replayed those last agonizing minutes before she headed for Oregon. Alone. Blake had come over at four in the morning and waited in the freezing rain. He’d begged her to stay, those amazing blue eyes brimming with tears. Other than the summer his dog died, she’d never seen Blake cry. Why had she been so stubborn?

Lauren shut her eyes against the incessant flashbacks and rinsed the shampoo from her hair. If only she could wash away the guilt and shame, too—wave goodbye to her unwanted companions as they swirled down the drain. Turning off the water, she brushed back the shower curtain.
Like it’s that simple.
Cocooned in two fluffy brown towels, she went in search of clean clothes. The sundresses, skirts, and t-shirts she hastily packed were not going to cut it in this weather. Surely she’d packed more than one pair of jeans. She shivered and plunged her hands through the layers of clothing. Her fingertips grazed denim at the very bottom of the suitcase.

“Yes, perfect.” She squeezed and tugged. The jeans came loose, spilling a stack of shirts and dresses onto the floor. Guess that means it’s time to unpack.

After she was dressed, the contents of both suitcases found homes in the old dresser her grandfather built. Scooping up one last dress from the floor, her foot caught the edge of her tote bag and she stumbled forward.

The bag tipped over, releasing the carefully concealed white box from its hiding place. With trembling fingers, she unwrapped the blue t-shirt and glanced around the loft. This had to be hidden. Getting to her feet, she pulled open the closet door and found a large plastic bin on the top shelf.

Dragging a foot stool over, She stepped up on it and pulled the bin down. The opaque plastic prevented her from seeing the contents, but it wasn’t heavy. Setting it on the carpet, she pried the lid off and the faint smell of lavender greeted her. She smiled. The ‘ugly’ quilts. Granny had gone through a phase several years ago, insisting that her grandchildren each needed a quilt. They all watched as she tackled her new hobby with fierce determination, taking classes, toiling late into the night over each square. But her fabric selection left something to be desired and the end result was a mishmash of brown, lima bean green and burnt orange that defied description. Apparently the infamous quilts had found a home here in the loft.

Lauren tucked the box within the folds of the top quilt. There. No one would bother to open that bin. She hoisted the bin back on the closet shelf, climbed off the stool and shut the door.

A distraction, a project—anything—to occupy her mind. That’s what she needed. Maybe her parents would listen to a few ideas she’d brainstormed for the Inn. Grabbing her laptop, she went back downstairs. The crack of a bat and distant roar of a crowd floated in from the living room. Dad must be watching a game on TV. Mom stood at the kitchen counter, swaying and humming “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” with Gavin swaddled in her arms. Lauren’s heart ached. If only Mom could have held her baby that way.
No. Don’t go there. She shoved back the bitter emotions, squared her shoulders, and breezed into the kitchen.

Mom turned around, a flicker of amusement in her eyes. “Did Dad tell you Blake called?”

Lauren nodded and sat down at the counter, casually flipping open her laptop and trying to pretend like she didn’t care. “I’ll call him later.”

Mom shifted Gavin in her arms. “Well, you can call him whenever you want, but he indicated it was kind of important. Something about needing extra help on a kayak trip.”

A kayak trip?
“Maybe in a few minutes. I wanted to talk to you about a few ideas I have for the Inn before the guests get here.”

Mom’s eyebrows disappeared under her bangs. “What kind of ideas?”

“For one thing, your calendar method is so out of date. It would be much easier to generate a spreadsheet for reservations. I could add a column to track how the guests heard about the Inn. Then you could use that info to—”

Mom held up her hand. “Wait. I like my calendar. It’s messy, but it gets the job done. And tracking? That sounds so—I don’t know—intrusive. What brought this on?”

“Mom, let’s face it. Business is slow this season. The Inn doesn’t hold the same appeal it once did. What do you think about raffling off a free night’s stay at the Cove to Creek festival this year?”

Mom frowned. “We attract a certain clientele. I can’t tell you the number of repeat guests we have. It’s astounding, really, that people would come back to stay again and again.” Gavin fussed and Mom shifted him to her shoulder. She swayed and patted his backside.

“But if you kept more detailed records, you could see exactly who returned and how that relates to where you advertise.” Lauren pulled up the website of another bed and breakfast in Seward. “See, look at what other B&B’s have done with their websites—”

“Sweetheart, I appreciate your concern. I really do.” Gavin began to cry louder and Mom raised her voice. “Trying something new mid-season is a bit of a stretch, with everything else we’ve got going on. But I’m willing to listen to your suggestions. Let me warm a bottle for Gavin and we’ll talk some more.”

Lauren pulled her laptop closer, the creative juices flowing now that she had Mom’s blessing. Clicking her mouse to open a document, she glanced over the flyer she was working on for the festival. Mrs. Maxwell had come into the Fish House as Shannon and Lauren were leaving, and she’d gathered up her courage and offered her fledgling design services. They were meeting for coffee in the morning to go over the finished product before Lauren emailed it to the printer. It felt so good to be productive again.

Dad came in to the kitchen, frowning. “Dang Mariners. They can’t get their act together this year.” He tipped his head toward the phone. “Did you see Blake’s number there? He wants you to call him.”

“Good grief.” Lauren snatched the Post-It note from the counter and studied the number.

Laughter bubbled from Mom’s lips as she slipped a bottle into Gavin’s mouth. “In case you hadn’t heard.”

Dad’s gaze flitted between Lauren and Mom. “Did I miss something?”

“I was just reminding her that she needed to call him.”

“You think he wants help with a kayaking trip? I haven’t kayaked in years.”

“You were quite a team once upon a time.” Dad crossed his arms and leaned against the counter.

Lauren felt her cheeks grow warm. “Dad. Please. That’s old news. We’ve both moved on.”
Haven’t we?

“Just call him and see what he needs. You can always say no,” Mom said.

Lauren sighed and reached for the phone. She dialed the number, every press of a button ratcheting up her anticipation.

The phone range once, then someone picked up. “Hello?”

No, her heart did not just flutter at the sound of his voice.

“Blake? It’s me, Lauren.”

“Hi. Thanks for returning my call. I know its short notice but we’ve got a big trip the day after tomorrow and I was wondering if you could help us out?”

“Me? What kind of a trip?”

“Half-day sea kayaking excursion out to Townsend glacier. Our clients are a family of nine, I would just feel better if we had one more guide.”

Lauren twisted a ringlet of hair around her finger. Hardly did she qualify as a guide. “I don’t know, Blake. I—”

“Look, I’m desperate. I’ve called everybody I can think of.”

“Gee, thanks.” Of course he wouldn’t call her first.

“No, that’s not what I meant.” He sighed. “I feel bad asking you, with your Granny in the hospital and everything. But you’ll be back right after lunch. I know you can make the trip. We used to go all the time.”

She smiled at the memory of their families paddling out to the glacier together, lunch stowed in their packs. Those were the glory days, when the Tullys and the Carters were practically inseparable.

Maybe she could help him just this once. “What time?”

“That’s the kicker. It’s a 6:30 start.”

“I should probably check with my parents, they might need me to—”

Both Mom and Dad shook their heads emphatically and waved her off. Funny, it’s like they couldn’t wait for her and Blake to spend time together.

“Um, sure. If you could let me know as soon as possible, I would appreciate it.”

“I checked the calendar, it looks like we’ve only got two guests tomorrow night. I think my parents can handle it. What time should I be there?”

“Really? Wow, you’re a lifesaver. I’ll pick you up at six.”

Ugh. Way too early. “See you then.”

“So … thanks. Yeah, I’ll see you then.”

She clicked off the phone and set it on the counter, avoiding her parents’ curious stare. Well, this is definitely a distraction. Be careful what you wish for, right? Ideas for a booth at the festival and images of Blake in a kayak competed for attention in her mind.
Honestly. What are you thinking?
Even though she was single again, there was no sense rekindling a romance when she planned to be gone in less than a month.

He’d helped her out when they were in a tight spot. The least she could was return the favor. But that was it. They were two business owners in a small town looking out for each other. End of story.

Lauren wheeled the vacuum cleaner into the laundry room and stowed it in the corner. The timer on the dryer buzzed again, an irritating reminder that her battle against the daily chores raged on.
One more load and you’ll be on your way
.

She opened the dryer and scooped the whole load into the waiting laundry basket. There was just enough time to fold everything before her lunch meeting with Mrs. Maxwell. It had required a few last-minute tweaks and a quick trip to Matt’s office to borrow his printer, but the flyer for Cove to Creek days was ready to go. Hauling the load out into the living room, she dumped the sheets and towels onto the couch and grabbed her phone from the coffee table. Maybe a little music would make this mundane task more palatable and soothe the butterflies flitting around her stomach.
It’s just a flyer. Relax.

After a quick perusal of her music library, she selected one of her favorite Kenny Chesney songs and hit
play. Reaching for a pillowcase, she heard the front door slam. Matt came in, shiny red tool box in hand.

“Good morning. What’s up, sis?” He tried for a smile, but failed miserably.

“Good morning. Are you alright?”

He set his tool box down and dragged a hand over his face. “Rough night. I think Gavin cried for four hours straight.”

Lauren winced. “I’m sorry. There’s coffee in the kitchen.”

“Thanks. I think I’ll take you up on that. Is Mom around?”

“She should be back from the store soon.” Lauren tipped her head toward the tool box. “Playing handyman today?”

Matt huffed out a breath and collapsed on the opposite couch. “Not because I want to. I’ve actually got a few appointments over at the church. But leaky pipes don’t wait. When Seth’s not around, it falls on me.”

“I put a basin under the sink to catch the drips.” Lauren made a neat stack of pillowcases along the back of the couch and started on the towels.

“I wish they’d just give in and call the plumber.”

Lauren stopped the music and glanced at Matt. “Can I ask you something?”

He shrugged. “Sure.”

“I’ve made some suggestions for improvements around here but when it comes to getting the ball rolling … any thoughts?”

A shadow flickered across Matt’s face. “What do you mean?”

“Just some things they could do to make the place more appealing. S’mores around the fire pit, a hot chocolate bar—little changes to attract families with children.”

“Mom wasn’t real excited, was she?”

“Kind of lukewarm. I think I convinced her to try a computerized calendar and maybe participate in the festival this year, as long as I do most of the work.”

Matt rubbed his fingers across his stubbly chin. “Those sound like great ideas … in theory. I think Mom’s concern is what it would take to implement change. It’s all she can do to make it through the day right now.”

Lauren frowned. “But that’s why I’m here.”

Matt arched an eyebrow. “For how long? What about next week or next month? You can’t just swoop in and fix everything, Lo. That never goes over well.”

The towel she was folding slipped from her trembling fingers. “I’m just trying to help.”

Matt stood and crossed over to where she sat. “I know. We appreciate it. I don’t think this is the best time to delve into something new. I gotta get to work.” He patted her shoulder, picked up his toolbox and headed for the kitchen.

Lauren cranked up the volume on her phone and tackled the last of the sheets, while Kenny sang about little umbrella drinks and the care-free island life. Although she hated to admit it, Matt was right. She didn’t come home to shake things up, so maybe it was best if she quit trying so hard.

“Hey, Lauren? You’re phone’s ringing,” Matt called up the stairs.

Lauren snatched the flyer off her dresser, scooped up her wedges with her free hand, and flew down the stairs. She followed the sound of the ringtone to the couch. Grabbing the phone, she tapped the screen and pressed it to her ear. “Hello?” She said, breathlessly.

“May I speak to Lauren Carter, please?” The voice was unfamiliar, professional.

“Speaking.”

“Hello, Lauren. This is Tammy Austad. I’m the business manager for Hillsboro Family Practice. How are you today?”

She swallowed hard. The job Dr. Putnam had referred her to.
Shoot.
Why didn’t she follow up on that last email?

“I-I’m fine, thanks. How are you?”

“I’m well, thank you. Do you have a few minutes?”

Lauren padded back into the kitchen and glanced down at Matt, who’d stuck his head back under the kitchen sink and started muttering to himself. “Yes, I’m available now.”

“Wonderful. As I’m sure you’re aware, you received a glowing recommendation from Dr. Dwight Putnam. We’re looking for an experienced, dynamic medical assistant to fill an opening here at our clinic. I’m calling to check your availability for an interview.”

Lauren’s breath hitched, tapping the pen against the yellow notepad she’d pulled from a stack of Mom’s stuff. “Wow. I’m flattered that you asked. Is there an initial phone screening or…”

“We like what we’ve heard so far from Dr. Putnam and at this time we’d love to set up a personal interview. How does next week sound?”

Next week. She hadn’t changed her ticket yet, but since Holden abandoned their plans—not to mention their whole relationship—she’d dragged her feet on getting back to Portland. But this was a job. One she was capable of doing. One that paid the bills.

“I’m in Alaska visiting family right now. Is next Friday a possibility?”

She waited, biting the inside of her cheek, as Tammy checked the calendar.

“Absolutely. How does next Friday morning at ten o’clock sound?”

Lauren scrawled the info on the notepad. “Sounds great. Thank you for the call.”

Tammy offered her phone number and Lauren made an additional note to look up directions later. Looks like Matt was right. What was the use in pushing Mom to make changes if she wasn’t going to be around to help implement them?

Blake walked into The Fish House, his mouth already watering in anticipation. While the fish was plentiful in Tyonek and the natives had kept his freezer stocked, they weren’t into deep-frying their catch. The sound of oil sizzling in the fryers filled the air and he licked his lips. He’d eat here every day if he could. Apparently it wasn’t the Cove’s best kept secret anymore, either, judging by the line at the front counter. While he waited his turn to order, he cast a curious glance around the dining room. His casual survey came to a halt when he saw Lauren sitting alone at a booth, her eyes on a single sheet of paper on the table in front of her. Huh. Wonder who she’s with?

Lauren looked up and met his gaze, a smile turning up the corners of her pale pink lips. His heart stuttered, right on cue. He relinquished his place in line and walked over to her booth, drawn by the invisible pull of her eyes on his. He’d only stay for a minute. Long enough to see what she was up to.

“Hey, you.” He stopped beside her and shoved his hands in the back pocket of his jeans. That sounded much cooler in his head.
Dude. What is up with you?

She arched one eyebrow. “Hey, yourself. What’s up?”

“Just grabbing lunch.” He stole a peek at the paper on the table, some kind of announcement about Cove to Creek Days. “What’s this?”

A faint blush colored her cheeks. She splayed her hand across the page. “Nothing.”

Blake gently tugged at her fingers. “If it’s nothing, why can’t I see it?”

“It’s a flyer, okay?” Impatience tinged her voice while her eyes flitted around the room.

“Did you make it?” He picked it up and studied it more closely.

“Yes.”

“It looks great. Why are you embarrassed?”

She sighed, worry carving a crease in her forehead. “It’s hard putting my work out there. Mrs. Maxwell gives the final approval. What if she hates it?”

“She’ll love it. Don’t sell yourself short. Who knows? It might be the first step in a booming new career for you.”

Lauren looked at him like he’d sprouted three heads. “Easy, there. It’s only a flyer.”

Blake smiled. He’d always loved her witty comebacks. “You’ve got to start somewhere, right?”

“Right. Now scoot. Here she comes.” Lauren snatched the flyer out of his hands and pressed it on the table, smoothing out a wrinkle he was certain didn’t exist.

Blake raised both hands, palms up. “I’m out. See you tomorrow.”

He turned back toward the front counter, stepping aside as a rather frazzled Mrs. Maxwell rushed past him. “Afternoon, Mrs. Maxwell.”

She barely glanced up from her phone and offered a polite smile. “Hello, Blake.”

He took his place in line once again, trying not to read too much into their brief exchange. Did the Maxwell’s discuss school business over dinner? Debate the pros and cons of each job candidate before digging into dessert? As one of her former students, he hoped she’d cast a vote in his favor for replacing Coach Hoffman. But after all this time, maybe her allegiances were elsewhere. Pushing aside the doubt that nagged him, he quickly placed his order to go.

A few minutes later, Blake rapped his knuckles on the doorframe of Matt’s office in the basement of the church, holding a paper bag and two drinks from the Fish House with his free hand.

“Hey, Blake. Come on in.” Matt swept some papers off the corner of his desk and tossed them on the floor. He gestured to the empty folding chair in the corner. “Grab a seat. Thanks for bringing lunch.”

Blake slid the bag onto the desk and pulled the chair up closer before settling in. “Thanks for seeing me today, I know you’re a busy man these days.”

Matt shook his head. “That’s an understatement. It’s all good stuff, though.”

Unwrapping his fish sandwich, Blake glanced over Matt’s shoulder at the photographs tacked to the bulletin board behind him. Matt had always lived life with the throttle wide open. Blake couldn’t remember a time when Matt wasn’t juggling three things at once. He’d shocked everyone when he married Angela immediately after high school, then blazed straight through college and seminary in California. While most guys his age were testing the waters of young adulthood, Matt had a family and now his first job as associate pastor at Emerald Cove’s thriving community church.

“I saw a picture of Joshua on your Facebook wall. How many stitches?”

Matt chewed his cheeseburger, eyes closed, shaking his head in disbelief. “No stitches. Five staples.”

“Ouch. Bet he won’t run down the dock ramp again.”

“Let’s hope not. At least not in flip-flops.”

Blake squeezed a packet of ketchup into the cardboard basket that housed his French fries and smiled. “He’s all boy, isn’t he?”

“Absolutely. Can’t imagine where he gets it.” Matt winked and reached for his Sprite.

“Ironic, isn’t it? The legendary prankster becomes a pastor and spawns a passel of little pranksters.”

“Ha. Angela knows all my tricks, anyway. Joshua will need to find some new material.”

They ate in contented silence, Blake reflecting on the various pranks Matt had managed to pull off over the years. By far his favorite was the mysterious appearance of Coach Hoffman’s truck hanging from the crane down at the boat launch.

“So.” Matt inhaled the last of his burger and started in on his fries. “Give me a quick update on how things are going. Business is good, I hear?”

Dang, the dude could eat. Blake marveled at how quickly food disappeared around Matt. And where did it go? He probably weighed the same as he did back in high school.

“Business is great. Totally God’s favor that this worked out for us.”

“God’s favor and a tremendous amount of hard work, I’m sure.”

Blake nodded. “True. We’re blown away by people’s interest, though. Especially the kayaking. At this rate, we’ll need another employee to finish out the season.”

“And life outside of work? How’s that?”

Blake hesitated. “Fine. Like I said, things are busy. I don’t have a lot of free time, which is probably a good thing. But—”

“But?” Matt’s eyes met his with a quizzical gaze.

Leaning back in his chair, Blake sighed. “I asked you to be my accountability partner because I knew you’d listen and give sound advice.”