Chapter 6

The day after her visit with Aunt Sylvia—and her near mishap in the parking lot when the attractive man had saved her—Claire drove to meet her father at his office.

Hudson worked from a small real estate office in town, which wasn't far from where Lori Sims ran the other real estate office in town. Claire liked to tease him that of course the two had placed their offices near one another. As real estate agents, they both knew the value of a good location.

Aside from their proximity, however, the two offices couldn't have been more different, even from the outside. While Lori's building had a beachy air to it, no doubt courtesy of Marty's design talents, Hudson's gave a more forest-y impression, with ivy climbing up one side of the brick building. Claire knew that her father kept the ivy in honor of his late wife's memory. Claire's mother had loved the sight of greenery growing up a house, enjoying how it signified the place where the wilds of nature met the civilizing influence of humanity.

When his wife was alive, Hudson had grumbled nonstop, albeit good-naturedly, about how expensive it was to keep up with the damage caused by the tenacious plants. After she had passed, Claire had never heard him utter another word against the plant life that snaked up the side of his office building.

Claire entered the building and greeted Dennis, an office worker in his forties who had served as Hudson's administrative assistant for more than fifteen years.

"Good morning, Miss Claire!" he exclaimed. Claire had always found Dennis to have a grandfatherly air, even though he was nowhere near old enough to be a grandfather, and as a "confirmed bachelor," as he called himself, he was unlikely to ever become one. "What a lovely surprise."

"Morning, Dennis," she returned. "Is Dad in?"

"In his office," Dennis said, jerking a thumb toward the back room where Hudson worked. "He's just finishing up some paperwork this morning, so you can go right in."

"Thanks!" she said as she did just that.

In his office, her father was bent over a stack of papers, reading glasses perched on the end of his nose. When he saw who was entering the room, he leaned back, his furrowed brow smoothing and his face breaking into a smile.

"Hey there," he said, tossing his glasses to the desk and unfolding from his chair to greet her with a hug. "To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"

She gave her father a hug and a kiss on the cheek, then dropped into the same chair she always occupied when she visited her father at work. She liked coming here; there was something comforting about visiting a room that never changed except for when Hudson added an updated picture of the two of them to the small collection on his wall. He hung another every three or four years, but never took the old ones down; the earlier photos included Claire's mom, while the later ones showed Hudson, Claire, and sometimes Aunt Sylvia and Uncle Alan.

The sight of her aunt and uncle brought Claire back to the real reason she'd come to the office today. She'd barely been able to sleep the night before, mind buzzing with ideas about how she could use the money. Despite her restless night, she didn't feel tired today, only energized, which was a rare state for her.

"I had a surprise visit from Aunt Sylvia yesterday," she began, unsure of how to explain the whole story to her father. When she saw the way he was hiding a grin behind one hand, however, she realized she wouldn't have to. "You already know!" she accused.

He revealed his smile. "Yeah, I do," he admitted. "Sylvia called me yesterday after she left lunch with you. Took you long enough to come share your good news with your old man, huh?"

"Yeah, yeah," Claire said, rolling her eyes, although now it was her turn to hide a smile. "Sixteen whole hours."

Hudson glanced at a clock. "More like nineteen," he teased. "Sixteen would have been fine, but nineteen? Pretty slow, kiddo."

She pretended to tap a watch at her wrist even though she wasn't wearing one. "Darn, this thing must be running slow."

Hudson's look turned from joking to eager. "Anyway, let's get down to business. Do you have any idea what you want to do with the money?"

She let out a long breath and leaned back in the chair. "It's tough," she confessed. "I mean, I never imagined anything like this! It almost feels like a fantasy, like when you say to yourself, ‘If I won the lottery, I'd do this and that,' even though you never even buy a ticket." She leaned back into the familiar wooden chair with a sigh. "Part of me feels like I don't deserve it."

Her father sat up straight, indignant as she'd known he would be. "Now you stop that right there," he ordered, pointing at her sternly. "For one thing, this is a gift. Your aunt was very clear about that. Maybe she predicted that you'd be having these kinds of thoughts, but she told me that you could put it in the bank and save it or blow it all on a big vacation and she would be perfectly happy either way. She wanted you to have this because she loves you; there's no ‘deserving' about it."

"Okay, okay," she agreed. It was hard to dispute such an impassioned defense of how much her family loved her. Not that she had a reason to dispute it when she could just enjoy how lucky she was to have such an amazing family.

"That said," he went on, "I know my daughter, and I don't think you're thinking about blowing the whole amount. If I had to guess…" He tapped his chin musingly. "You're going to do something sensible, and Sylvia and I will have to nag you to do something fun for yourself on the side."

Outwardly, she smiled, but part of her wanted to grimace instead.

"I do have some idea… but I'm worried that it's not so sensible after all, given my lupus."

"Well," Hudson said thoughtfully, "you know my response is going to be that you can do anything you put your mind to. You just have to do so with a little thought and effort so that you don't overtax your body. Anyway, hit me. What's this big idea?"

Claire took a deep breath, then blurted out her answer before she lost her nerve.

"I want to open a flower shop." She continued speaking as her father's mouth opened slightly in surprise. "I mean, you know how much I love my garden at home. And I think I do a pretty nice job cultivating it. And it's just so—so fulfilling, I think that's the right word. I feel so proud and happy when I see those plants grow, you know? So maybe it's nuts, but I've always had this dream in the back of my mind—"

"Whoa, whoa!" Her father cut her off as she continued to ramble. "Honey. I think that's a great idea."

Claire blinked. She'd been so consumed with all the reasons this dream couldn't be reality that it took her a moment to come back down to earth. "You do?"

Hudson laughed. "Of course I do. You're right; you're an amazing gardener. You're just like your mom in that way." She blushed happily. It always felt good to be compared to the mother she missed so dreadfully. "And there's not a florist nearby. We've got the garden center, but that's not really what you're looking for when you want to buy your sweetheart a nice bouquet, now is it?"

She could see the real estate agent wheels turning in her father's head. "You know, now that I think about it, I can't believe we don't already have a flower shop in this town, given how many weddings we've been having around here recently. You're probably going to be a smashing success right off the bat."

She laughed. She knew that part of this was the kind of blind parental support she always got from her father, but his reasoning wasn't totally off either. Even so, it was hard to shake off her doubts…

"What if opening a business is too much work, though?" she wondered aloud. "What if the stress is too much for me?"

Stress was a major trigger for a lupus flare-up. This shop was a dream for her, but what if the reality was too much for her, given her illness.

Sensing her darkening thoughts, her father reached across the desk and clasped her hand. "If it gets stressful, you have people who will help you," he reminded her. "That's what a town like this is all about, after all. Besides, you'll always have me, and you know Sylvia would just love to come help too. She'd be so proud to have another businesswoman in the family."

He grinned until Claire gave him a tentative smile back. "If this is your dream, you have to go for it. Maybe it won't work out; it's impossible to ever know the future. But trying and failing is better than not trying at all." He patted her hand, then leaned back in his chair. "Besides, it won't fail. I'm sure of it."

"Okay," she said hesitantly, letting his words sink in. Then she repeated herself with more confidence. "Okay! Yes, I want to try."

He beamed at her. "I'm so proud of you, sweetheart. Also, I know the perfect place for your shop. It just went on the market…" He trailed off, his exuberant expression dropping into a scowl.

Claire knew that look. "Uh oh," she teased. "Don't tell me. Is this ‘perfect place' being handled by your rival?"

Hudson forced his frown to vanish, although it seemed to take him some effort to do so. "That doesn't matter," he said decisively. "Your dream is more important, much as it pains me to throw Lori Sims any business. And the place really is ideal; it's a storefront with big front windows, which will show off all your wares, and it's in a great location downtown." His grin widened again. "Plus it's only a few blocks away, so we could get lunch sometimes! I don't see you enough."

"You're getting a little ahead of yourself," she teased. "Why don't I start by calling Lori and seeing the place?"

"Don't let her gouge you," he warned seriously.

"Dad!" Claire shook her head. This rivalry truly was so ridiculous. Lori had never been anything but nice to her. "You think after all these years as a realtor's daughter, I don't know how to get a good price?"

She could practically see the internal battle going through her father's mind as he mentally warred between showing that he believed Claire could do anything and his desire to rile up Lori Sims.

"I better go with you just to be sure," he said finally. "After all, it can't hurt, can it?"

Claire laughed. As if she'd expected anything less.

The morning after his dinner with Dominic and his family—which had been a lot of fun, even if Addie and Lucas's seemingly boundless energy had left him more exhausted than a long night on call at the firehouse—Liam returned to the BB from a run down by the waterfront. He gave a contented shiver as he crossed the threshold, leaving the January chill behind for the building's cozy, welcoming air. He often ran in the winter back in Boston, but the biting wind off the harbor had cut through him faster than his exertions could warm him up. He was ready for a warm drink and a hot shower.

He put these plans on pause, however, when he saw Monica in the BB's front parlor, tidying some bookshelves.

"Monica, hi!" he called before he got too close, not wanting to startle her.

She turned to face him with a grin, a couple of worn paperbacks in her hands. "Oh, hey, Liam!"

"I saw Dominic last night, and he mentioned something about how your husband works as a contractor?" he began hesitantly. He felt a bit awkward asking someone he barely knew for a favor, even though Monica had been nothing but nice to him.

And, sure enough, she answered with gracious kindness. "Oh, yeah, Braden. He's been building a client base around here doing all kinds of contracting jobs, since he was an architect before he moved back to Whale Harbor." She scrunched her nose at him. "But you don't need a builder, do you?"

He laughed. Why would he when he was living in her BB? He understood her confusion.

"No, no," he clarified. "I was wondering if he needed anybody to help out on any of his jobs. I'm looking for some part-time work while I'm here, and Dominic suggested talking to you and Braden."

"That makes a lot more sense." She put the books in her hands in place on the shelf, wearing a thoughtful expression. "I don't know exactly who he has lined up to work in the near future, but he did mention that he has some big jobs happening, so he might need help. Today, he's working on the house of some friends of ours, Wyatt and Marty, who just got married. If you go over there, you can talk to him about it."

"Do you think he'd mind?" he asked.

"No way!" she exclaimed. Then she pulled her phone from the back pocket of her jeans. "If you're available today, I can text him and let him know to expect you. Does that work?"

"That would be amazing," he said, feeling a thread of hope snake through him. It had become an unfamiliar feeling of late, and some tension immediately left his body. "I just got back from a run, so I'll need a little bit of time, but then the rest of my day is free." He waved a hand down at his workout clothes.

"That shouldn't be a problem," she said, typing into her device. "He'll be in the same place all day today. But you don't need to dress up, of course. It's a construction site, so the dress code is distinctly casual."

"Oh, I should leave my tux in the closet then?" he teased, and she laughed.

He gave Monica his cell phone number so she could text him the address where Braden was working, then took a quick shower and dressed in clothes that were appropriate for construction work—heavy boots, thick denim, and a jacket that wouldn't snag and gave him freedom of movement. Maybe this wasn't a formal interview, but it was always good to present yourself as someone who was prepared for the work they were applying to do.

When he arrived at the address Monica had given him, he double checked to make sure he was in the right place because, from the outside, the house was not visibly under construction. Two trucks, piled high with tools and building supplies, were parked on the curb, however, reassuring him that he was in the right place. As he approached the house, he could begin to hear the sounds of power tools whirring. These noises stopped as soon as Liam knocked on the front door.

A few moments later, a blond man about Liam's age opened the door. Liam had seen him once or twice around the BB, which meant this could only be Braden.

"Hey, Braden?" he asked, sticking out his hand. "I'm Liam Hiller. I'm staying down at the BB. Monica said she texted you I was coming by?"

"Yeah, Liam, hey," the man agreed, pulling off a well-worn work glove before accepting Liam's handshake. "Mon told me to expect you. Thanks for coming by."

"Thank you," Liam amended as Braden stepped aside to let him into the house. "I appreciate you letting me come talk to you about potentially doing some work."

Immediately, he noted that the house was divided into two parts: one that was complete and clearly lived-in, and another that was still in progress. The kitchen offered a small middle ground where there was no active construction, but the space was still covered in plastic tarps to avoid the spread of dust and grime.

"Sure thing." Braden, Liam was quickly realizing, was as welcome as his wife… and everyone else he'd met so far in Whale Harbor, come to think of it. "Why don't you tell me a little bit about what you're looking for?"

Without going into too much detail about his reasons for leaving Boston, Liam explained that he was in Whale Harbor for an indefinite amount of time.

"I'm really just looking for something temporary," he said, "though of course I wouldn't leave you high and dry on a job, or anything. I follow through on my commitments."

Braden waved away this concern. "That part should be easy enough to manage," he said. "Most of the guys who work with me are part time as fishermen too, so we have people moving in and out. We can work just fine with a temporary schedule. What's your experience with construction look like?"

Liam wobbled a hand in the air to indicate so-so. "I've never formally worked in construction," he admitted. "But I'm good with my hands and I'm a fast learner. Plus, I'm a firefighter, so I know my way around power tools safely… though we're usually using them to break stuff down instead of building it up."

Braden looked faintly impressed, although Liam was thankful when he didn't ask any further questions about Liam's professional past. "Well, I'd say that definitely qualifies you for the heavy lifting part of the job," he said.

Liam chuckled. "Yeah, if I had a nickel for every time I had to lug around heavy equipment."

"I think we can do better than a nickel for pay," Braden joked back. Then he waved at the empty construction space behind him. "And, as you can see, I'm without a crew for the day. Is there any chance you'd be willing to start right now?"

Liam felt a spark of excitement. This had gone better than he could have ever hoped for.

"Absolutely! I'm a guy who likes to keep busy, so I've been going a bit stir-crazy over at the BB, no matter how nice it is."

For a second, he was worried his joke would offend Braden and end his new employment as quickly as it had started, but Braden smiled.

"Oh, I know what you mean," he said. "Monica has made the BB so relaxing that sometimes just being there makes me want to break out a hammer and nails."

"Probably means guys like us need places like that all the more," Liam commiserated, already feeling the potential for a friendship forming with Braden.

The two turned to work companionably, Braden taking the more complex tasks as Liam acclimated to the work. There was something deeply satisfying, he found, about the linearity of laying floorboards, their task for the day. Braden explained that this room would be an expanded living room for the newly married couple, which would adapt into a playroom when they had kids. He smiled fondly as he explained the goals of the homeowners, who were evidently currently on their honeymoon.

It was warming, seeing the community that existed in this tiny town; everyone seemed connected in a way that was a pleasant distraction from the sprawling anonymity of Boston. It felt similar, to Liam, to the sense he was gaining that construction work was a pleasant distraction from firefighting. He wasn't sure that he'd be happy making the change, either in location or in career path, a permanent one, but for now, he felt sure it was just what he needed.

He found himself frowning slightly as he laid another floorboard. He wasn't sure if he could leave firefighting forever… but he wasn't sure he could go back either.

With some effort, he pushed those confusing, roiling thoughts from his mind. Those were questions for later. For now, he had a house to help build.