“What are you talking about?” Cooper replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “The other week, we got brand-new street lights in the square—after they spent six months finding exact replicas of the old ones.”
Noah chuckled. “That sounds like Sweetbriar Cove.”
“So, what brought you back?” Riley asked, leaning against the polished oak bar. “I heard things were going pretty good there down in Nashville.”
Noah was careful to keep an easy smile on his face as he replied. “I guess it was time for a change. Besides, my folks were complaining about the distance, and you know what my mom can be like.”
They all laughed. “Gayle likes to make her opinions known,” Riley agreed. “So can I get you a beer?”
“I’m actually here for him,” Noah said, turning to Cooper. “I might have a job for you.”
Cooper winced. “I’m pretty much booked solid through the summer,” he said, sounding apologetic.
Noah shrugged. “Oh, too bad. I thought you would be interested in a project like the Beachcomber Inn.” He left the name dangling, and sure enough, Cooper paused, looking more interested.
“The inn, really? It’s a beautiful property. All that original shingle … the turrets …” His smile turned nostalgic. “My mom used to take me for tea there on Sundays, as a treat. Mrs. Calendar’s scones couldn’t be beat.”
“Those scones were legendary,” Noah agreed. “The new owner’s trying to fix the place up,” he explained. “But she called in Louie about the job.”
Cooper scowled at the name. “That guy’s a piece of work.”
Riley nodded in agreement. “Tried to talk me into tenting the place for non-existent termites when I first got to town.”
“I don’t suppose you could go give her an honest quote?” Noah asked. “Even if you don’t have time for the work, maybe you could let her know what she should be asking.”
“Sure,” Cooper said. “But you know, I might find the time for a job like that, after all. If I moved a couple of things around …”
Noah grinned. Cooper was a sucker for a historic renovation, and in Sweetbriar Cove you didn’t get more historic than the inn.
“Thanks,” he said. “Buy you a drink sometime?”
“No need.” Cooper said. “A job like that, drinks will be on me.”
Noah said his goodbyes and headed out. There. He’d done his neighborly duty. Cooper and his crew would see to the Beachcomber renovations, and he wouldn’t have to waste another moment thinking about it.
Or her.
Noah set thoughts of Evie aside and drove on to his parents’ place, a ramshackle old farmhouse on the outskirts of town. When he pulled up and stepped through the front door, he found it in a state of chaos.
As usual.
“Mom? Dad?” he called over the din of Buster the dog barking and a radio playing loudly, he could just make out the sound of his aunt Linny shaking with laughter. He followed the noise and found her out on the back patio with his mom, drinking rosé and enjoying the last of the evening sun.
“There you are.” He kissed both women on the cheek and stole a handful of cheese straws from the dish on the table. “Happy hour is well underway, I see.”
“We were just talking about you,” his mom said.
“And all the scandalous rumors about your love life,” Linny added.
“Which is my cue to keep walking,” Noah said.
Their laughter followed him out to the barn, where his father, Jeff, was deep in concentration, carving a tiny replica armoire out of wood.
“You should have warned me Aunt Linny was coming over,” Noah said, stepping into the dusty, cluttered space. “You know what she and mom are like once they get on their rosé.”
“Why do you think I’m out here?” his dad said. “Hold this, would you?”
Noah took the clamp and watched as Jeff painstakingly added detailing to the front of the chest.
“French reproduction,” Jeff explained. “A woman out in Schenectady needs a complete set for her dollhouse.”
Noah nodded. He still didn’t quite understand his father’s newfound passion for miniature furniture, but it kept him busy, out there in the barn, and apparently, he was in high demand. “Any interesting callouts?” his dad asked, squinting at the wood. “At least, interesting for Sweetbriar Cove.”
Noah smiled. “Nothing big, just a stray cat hiding out in an attic. And the new owner of the Beachcomber Inn got stuck on the roof,” he added casually, doing his best not to picture Evie’s pink cheeks.
And other assets.
Jeff chuckled. “Sure you’re not missing big-city life? You signed up for drama and excitement, not this.”
“Drama is overrated,” Noah said. “I like ‘boring’ just fine.”
“Is that so? Seems like there’s nothing boring about your personal life,” his dad said meaningfully.
Noah groaned. “You sound like mom.”
“Just curious, that’s all.” His dad set down his tools and fixed Noah with a knowing look. “I’d just like to know if there’s a future daughter-in-law on the horizon … or who to avoid in line at the grocery store. I was cornered the other day by a very insistent brunette. She wanted to know your favorite meals and seemed convinced you were half starved without any home cooking.”
“I’m perfectly capable of throwing a steak on the grill,” Noah protested.
“Tell that to her,” his father said. “Or better yet, don’t—and send me the leftovers. You know what your mother’s cooking is like.”
“I heard that.” Gayle appeared in the doorway and gave Jeff a good-natured glare. “Does this mean you’ll be eating elsewhere tonight?”
“Never.” Jeff grinned back. “You know I like my food crispy on the way to charred.”
“Hmm.” Gayle snorted, and turned to Noah. “Can I borrow you for a minute?”
“What do you need me to move?” Noah asked, already rolling up his sleeves.
Gayle looked indignant. “What if I just want some quality time with my favorite son?”
“Your only son,” Noah corrected her. “And somehow, your quality time seems to always require heavy lifting.”
“Well, now that you mention it, there is a cabinet that needs moving …”
Noah laughed.
“She’s been saving up a list of chores,” his dad confided. “Don’t let her get you started on the leaky faucet in the bathroom!”
“Hush you.” Gayle scolded him, before her phone buzzed in its bejeweled case hanging around her neck. She checked the screen and lit up. “Oh, look, your sister had her sonogram. Thirty weeks, isn’t that just precious?” she cooed, before glancing up at Noah, guilty. “I’m sorry—”
He cut her off. “What for? How’s the pregnancy going?” he asked, keeping his tone upbeat. “Has she driven Derek crazy with her mood swings yet?”
“Almost,” his mom replied with an affectionate smile. “I think they’re worse than last time. She sent the cutest photos of little Elliot, all dressed up in his fireman’s uniform. He just loved his holiday gift.”