Page 7 of Echoes at Driftwood Cottage

“So you decided to make ice cream?”

“Quality ice cream,” Daniel corrected. “I researched seaside towns and discovered Pelican Pointe didn’t have an ice cream shop near the beach. It was simple, really, a process of elimination, and what I could afford at the time.”

“Hmm. Maybe you’ll end up with a chain of stores.”

He smiled and held up his cocktail glass. “That’s just it. I don’t want a chain of stores. I like mine just fine. Will you bring me another?”

“You got it. Besides, I like the way you tip.”

Daniel chuckled before draining his glass. While he waited for his second drink to show up, his mind drifted back to Rowan Eaton. He did his best not to conjure up her wet body in the shower. But it was no use. The image brought a smile to his face.

“What are you grinning about?” Ryder McLachlan cracked. “The last X-rated movie you watched?”

Instead of answering, Daniel fired back, “What are you doing here this time of night? The wife kick you out?”

Ryder pulled out a chair across from Daniel and sat down. “Very funny. Julianne is hosting a baby shower for Ophelia and Seth at the lighthouse. I’m headed up there after I finish my beer to help with cleanup duty. Wanna come?”

“I’ve been wondering what to do with myself on a Friday night. Now I have my answer.”

“You’re still a newcomer. It wouldn’t hurt to do a little schmoozing and give something back to the community.”

“I donated ice cream to the church social last week,” Daniel pointed out. “And I donated more at the Valentine’s Day party at the elementary school. That’s just in the last four months.”

“As riveting as that sounds, you could do more.”

“Did I mention your wife talked me into providing ice cream for the entire school at the end-of-year party?”

“Now that’s more like it. And before you remind me of my civic duty, my crew built that whole school, practically from the ground up, at a discount after they decided to reopen.”

“They’ll likely put that on your headstone,” Daniel remarked as Geniece brought over his second daiquiri. “Thanks, Geniece.

“Can I get you anything to eat? The grill shuts down in thirty. After that, it’s drinks only,” Geniece pointed out.

“I’m good. We were just talking about Ryder’s claim to fame. I can see it now. Here lies Saint Ryder. His crew singlehandedly rebuilt the school. Or maybe they’ll erect a monument in his honor on Main Street.”

Geniece rolled her eyes and blew another bubble. “Nobody wants to see that. Can I get you another beer?”

“Nah. Two’s my limit,” Ryder said. “I didn’t mean to sound like I was bragging. But I’m pretty proud of that school. When clients want to know about our company’s achievements, the school remodeling job is always at the top of our list.”

“I might know someone who could use a contractor this summer. Her name’s Rowan Eaton. She inherited her grandmother’s house on Cape Geneva, the little bungalow in the middle of the block. She might need help turning one of the bedrooms into an office.”

Ryder narrowed his eyes. “That’s right around the corner from you, isn’t it? How is it you know so much about this Rowan? When did she get into town?”

He’d walked right into that one, Daniel decided, blaming the rum for his loose lips, which prompted him to ignore the question and change the subject. He purposely looked at his watch. “Shouldn’t you be helping your lovely wife with cleanup by now?”

“Oh, crap,” Ryder muttered, downing the rest of his beer. “I’m late. I gotta go. Let me know if this Rowan needs the work done, and I’ll pencil her in for the middle of June.”

Left alone, Daniel’s thoughts returned to Rowan. Suddenly, the summer looked much brighter than it had before.

After retrieving her suitcase from the truck, Rowan had taken a long, hot shower until the water had run cold. It wasn’t a surprise. It didn’t take much to drain the old water heater of every ounce of hot water. It had been that way for as long as she could remember. Gran’s budget hadn’t allowed for a lot of fancy things. A new water heater never entered the equation.

But luckily for her, Lynette Dewhurst had other priorities. She always made time for her only granddaughter. As it turned out, Rowan craved the attention. Her own mother had been less than stable, often requiring lengthy stints in psychiatric wards or shorter stays at local rehab facilities to kick the booze, pills, or whatever Gwynn Eaton’s latest addiction had been at the time.

Early on, Rowan realized that her mother would never volunteer as a room mother, bake cookies for a Girl Scout meeting, or show up at a recital. No, Gwynn Eaton had too many problems. One of which was thinking the world revolved around her, twenty-four-seven. Rowan would likely have ended up in foster care at an early age if not for her grandmother.

The last time Gwynn fell off the wagon, Rowan had called Gran from a pay phone outside a rundown motel to pick her up. Rousted from her bed in the middle of the night, driving an hour in traffic and the pouring rain, Lynette had put her foot down this time. Gran had decided Rowan would come live with her.

Ten at the time, over the next eight years, Rowan’s life would settle down. She had regular meals and a stable roof over her head for the first time. For the first time, she had someone who cared about her well-being. Lynette had given Rowan the love and attention that she had always craved. For that, Rowan would always be eternally grateful.

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