Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

Emma got up early Monday morning. She dressed and did her hair and makeup just in case she was called in to substitute at one of the local schools. After nine, she knew all the schools were in session, so unless a teacher had an emergency, she had another free day. Changing to jeans and a chambray shirt, she decided she would work in the spare room today. Which reminded her to call a local carpenter who had been recommended to her by the real estate agent who sold her the condo. After spending twenty minutes on the phone with the contractor, she got his agreement to stop by after lunch to measure her guest room so she could have her custom-made closet.

Emma kept some of her shoes in clear containers she’d purchased from the Container Store. She felt ashamed when she saw that half of the room was covered with expensive shoes. Amanda’s words came back to her: Her mother always worried about money. If she added up the cost of just her high heels—the Christian Louboutins, Jimmy Choos, and the Manolo Blahniks—they were worth several thousand dollars. Emma hadn’t given much thought to the cost of her shoes before because she’d wanted them and could easily afford them. But not everyone had a choice.

She wanted to help Amanda and her mother. The key was doing it without making them feel like a charity case. A GoFundMe page was out of the question. Discovering a bag of money in the store would never pass; the thought was silly. How to help? She didn’t have a clue, but Emma wouldn’t give up. She wasn’t a quitter.

Maybe a fundraiser through the school? She could ask Marlena or Nash. Emma thought Nash would know because he worked at the school. She would swallow her pride and ask him as soon as she saw him out on the lanai. If she didn’t see him, she’d knock on his door. With a temporary fix to Amanda’s family’s problem, at least in her mind, Emma went through her shoeboxes, discarding several pairs she knew she wouldn’t wear anymore. Five-inch heels didn’t have a place in her life at this point.

The doorbell rang. “Coming,” she called, making her way to the door. She looked at the mess she’d made and hoped to have organized before the contractor, Jack Alan, arrived. But she hadn’t.

Upon opening the door and seeing the man waiting on the other side, Emma said, “Jack? I’m Emma Swan. Thanks for stopping over today.” She stood aside, allowing him to enter. He was older than he’d sounded on the phone, but she didn’t care as long as he knew what he was doing.

“Nice to meet you, Emma. I didn’t have much on my schedule today, so this worked out perfectly.” He held out his hand and she shook it, waiting for a reaction like the one she’d had with Nash. She felt nothing other than the strength in his grip.

She guessed him to be in his early forties. He wasn’t much taller than she, but he was powerfully built. His arms attested to his ability to swing a hammer and carry heavy-duty supplies. He was handsome in an old-fashioned way. Dark hair combed to the side; friendly brown eyes. A light blue work shirt tucked neatly into a pair of dark jeans. He wore work boots with paper covers over them, like surgeons wore in hospitals.

“If you’ll follow me,” she said. Emma led him to the guest room.

Jack walked the perimeter of the room, opening the door to the small closet. He took a measuring tape from his carpenter’s belt. Emma stayed out of his way while he worked. He wasn’t writing down measurements and she didn’t want to distract him from the numbers as he memorized them.

“Tell me exactly what you want and where you want it,” Jack said. “I’ll draw up a set of plans, have you review them, then give you an estimate. If you approve, I’ll look at my schedule and give you a start date.”

“These,” she motioned to all the boxes on the floor, “need a home.”

Jack smiled at her. “I can see that. My wife is a shoe lover as well. I built a custom closet just for her shoes a few years ago. Lisa would love it if you came by the house to take a look and see if it’s something you’d like.”

People are so friendly here, Emma thought, not for the first time. “I would if it’s not an inconvenience. I’m going to give away or donate some of these.” She pointed to the pile of shoes she’d taken out of their boxes. “Not sure I’ll need as much shoe space as I thought.”

Jack laughed. “Let me call her now. She should be home,” he said, then took his cell phone from his shirt pocket.

Emma left the room to give Jack some privacy. In the kitchen, she took two glasses, added ice, and filled them with sweet tea. Carrying both drinks back to the guest room, she paused to ensure Jack had finished his phone call.

“Sweet tea,” she said once Jack had hung up, handing him one of the glasses.

“Thanks. Lisa said she would love to show off her closet. Anytime today works for her.”

Emma swallowed a sip of her tea. “I can go now if that also works for you.”

“Sure thing. My truck is parked across the street if you want to follow me,” Jack said, “My house isn’t too far.” He guzzled down the tea and then returned the glass.

“I should change.”

“No, you’re fine.”

“Then let’s go,” she said, smiling. Emma loved the folks in Pink Pearl Cove more every day.

When she pulled out of the garage, she saw Jack’s bright red truck with Jack Alan’s Carpentry painted in white letters on the door panel. He drove slowly as she trailed behind.

Ten minutes later, they arrived at a stunning house at the opposite end of the island, facing the Gulf of Mexico. At least three stories high, it had tall windows that reflected the afternoon sun. That surprised her. She parked behind Jack.

“Your home is beautiful,” she said. “Did you build it yourself?”

He smiled at her. “I wish, but no. We bought this from the same real estate agent who referred you to me. We’ve been here almost five years now.”

Jack didn’t have a Southern accent, but that didn’t mean anything in Florida because most folks were from elsewhere. “Come on, meet Lisa. You two have a lot in common,” he said, grinning.

They walked upstairs, which led to a large deck. Glass doors opened as soon as they reached the deck. A gorgeous woman, barely five feet tall, came to welcome them. Emma never expected Jack’s Lisa to be so stunning. “I’m so thrilled to meet you,” the woman said in a British accent. “I’m Lisa. Please come inside.”

“Lisa, I appreciate your allowing me to barge in like this. Jack was nice enough to offer.”

Lisa’s eyes were the most unusual color, a silvery gray. Her black hair was straight, reaching down to her tiny waist. “It’s my pleasure. Jack says you are a shoe lover, too.”

“I was—in another lifetime. Really, I still am; I’m just downsizing. Beach life isn’t conducive to Jimmy Choos.”

“Now I know we’re going to be best friends. I have many of Jimmy’s shoes. I worked with him a few years back when we were in London. He’s a sweetheart.”

Wow, Emma thought. There was more to this couple than Jack’s ability to design closets. Emma’s eyes widened. “Then call me impressed.”

“That’s how I met Jack. He worked with Jimmy.”

Now Emma was even more impressed. “You did?”

“I did,” Jack said and then laughed. “I’ll leave you two girls alone. Lisa can tell you all about it and show you her closet. If it’s to your liking, I’ll start working on designing a closet just for you.”

“Please, come inside. I’ll show you the closet. Jack’s the best. Whatever you want, he’ll make sure you have it,” said Lisa.

Emma followed Lisa to an elevator. This was beyond extravagant, even for her, and she’d lived in luxury most of her life.

“It’s a lot to take in, I know,” Lisa said. “Look at the closet first and then I’ll tell you the story. Our background is unusual to most folks, but once you get to know us, we’re just like everyone else.”

Emma believed her.

Lisa’s closet was the size of Emma’s master bedroom and guest room combined. Shelves with glass doors housed hundreds of shoes, boots, and sandals, any kind of shoe one could imagine. Built-in lights reflected on each pair of shoes.

“This is like shoe fairyland.” Emma walked around the space, knowing she wouldn’t need nearly as many shelves. She liked the glass doors but could do without the lights. In her small condo, it would appear vain and frankly, silly if she were to display her collection as Lisa had.

“You think it’s too much?” Lisa asked.

“Not when you know Jimmy Choo,” Emma told her. “How did you meet him?”

“I worked as a shoe model for him and many others.”

Emma couldn’t help herself—she looked at Lisa’s feet. They were tiny. “Lucky you! What a fun career. I’m envious. My size nines feel like boats.” She laughed.

“I had a great career; that’s how I met Jack. When we moved to the island, for the first six months poor Jack was going stir-crazy. I convinced him to start a carpentry business. Closets are his specialty. He built the displays for many great designers and he wasn’t ready to quit when it was time for me to retire.”

“You’re young; why retire so soon?” Maybe that was too personal, thought Emma. “I’m sorry; I’m nosy.” She was embarrassed.

“No need to worry! It’s fine because I will ask you the same. I was burned out. Not on the shoes, just the traveling. All the shows, the factory trips—if something wasn’t right, I was called at a moment’s notice, even though most of the designers I worked with had molds of my feet. It was a great career, but now I enjoy doing what I want. So, what about you? A story lurks behind all those shoes if you need a shoe closet.”

“My story is similar to yours. I was born and raised in Miami; I wanted a slower-paced lifestyle. I was a corporate attorney and traveled a lot for clients. I wasn’t happy, so I sold my home and found someone to replace me at the firm. I’ve always wanted to teach school and kept my teaching certificate current. I subbed for a kindergarten class last week. It was the best workday I’ve had in years.”

“You’re at the perfect age for it too. Jack and I don’t have any children by choice, but we enjoy having plenty of nieces and nephews. They keep us entertained.”

“I don’t have siblings, so it’s up to me.” And I’m not getting any younger, Emma thought.

“You’re not married,” Lisa stated.

“No, and no prospects. Not that I’m looking, but someday I hope to marry and have children. I’ve devoted my life to my career. Time is running out,” she said.

“Never give up. I was thirty-five when I married Jack. We’ve been together ten years now.”

“You look fantastic—both of you. So whatever you’re doing, it’s working. Speaking of which, I need to get back home. I left a mess in the spare room. Shoes I don’t want are piled up all over the place.”

“Would you be willing to resell your shoes—the fancy ones? We donate the money to charity.”

“Of course, I’d be happy to. What charity?”

“We have three. You can choose where your money goes. One goes to a shelter for animals called Pink Pearl Cove Cares. Another is for women needing financial help named Pearl Protects. And then there’s the local children’s clinic.”

“Count me in for all three. Can I make a cash donation as well?”

Lisa laughed. “Of course. I don’t know any charity that doesn’t accept cash donations. Follow me.” Lisa led her to an enormous kitchen with stainless appliances and white marble counters. The cabinets were painted a soothing light gray, reminding Emma of clouds as they gathered before a summer rainstorm.

“Jack built these cabinets?” Emma asked while Lisa scribbled on a slip of paper.

“He did, as soon as we moved in. The counters, too. This is my email and cell number. Text me your info and I’ll email the info on the charities. We need all the help we can get. The Cove is small; there aren’t many wealthy people here.”

Emma would be considered well-to-do by some. It might be time to use the fortune her family had left her. “I’ll help you. I need to get involved with the community.”

“Good. We’ll be friends, just like I thought when Jack told me he was going to meet you today.”

“Shoe lovers.” Emma laughed. “A breed of our own.”

Emma bid the couple goodbye, then hurried down the stairs to her car. As she drove back to her end of the island, the traffic was heavier. Schools were out; Nash would likely be at his condo in an hour. She hoped to catch him and ask him about Amanda. Lisa’s charities would cover the financial end of her plan. Nash would know the emotional state of the young girl. Maybe Emma was sticking her nose in places she shouldn’t, but she couldn’t shake the sadness Amanda unknowingly projected.

She would figure out a way to help her, no matter what.