Page 41 of Between Two Shores

“Not sure.” Beth’s voice sounded weak. “We may have to delay the wedding.”

“Hmmm. Right.” Melissa’s chewing retreated to the kitchen.

Nick bet she had a smug look on her face. He slowly raised his head and studied Beth’s worry lines, although she offered a consoling smile.

A few heart-wrenching minutes later, Winston called with the news—no document.

Beth took Nick’s hand after she ended the call. “Oh, well. I guess it’s been a rush. This way, I’ll have more time to organize things better.”

“You were doing a great job of pulling it all together. Everything’s done. And you’ve paid those deposits.”

“I’ll get most of my money back.”

Nick bit his lower lip. “There’s no chance . . . that your dad . . . ?”

Beth crossed her arms over her peach blouse. “That he what?”

“Your dad likes me, doesn’t he? He wouldn’t?”

“I’m thirty-three. He wouldn’t go to that extreme to stop us from getting married. He’d just give his opinion and let me decide.”

“You know him better than me.”

She gave him a stern look. “Yes. I do.”

Oops. He’d touched a sensitive button. Beth seemed defensive about her dad. They were close. In a weird sort of way, like a married couple. She’d raised his children and partnered in running his charity like a wife would. And that could be an extra motive for Winston to accidentally misplace the document. He shook his head. This frustration wasn’t helping the situation.

“Sorry for bringing it up.”

She leaned back into the suede sofa, arms crossed. Her lips remained thin. “All right.”

He matched her posture. “All right.”

Chapter Sixteen

Lachlan

Lachlan swung back his hammer and slammed it into the concrete encasing the rusted bathtub. A small crack formed. He brought it down again. Smash. A deeper break stretched across the sidewall. He wiped his brow with the back of his flannel shirt. Not an ideal job, but it gave an outlet to his frustrations.

Helping his brother renovate bathrooms wasn’t his idea of a promising career. Slam. A chunk of concrete flew across the floor.

He’d applied for over twenty jobs in the last three weeks. No call backs. Nothing. His old mentor had no leads—no word of any positions for a counselor.

Whack. Whack. Slam.

His brother glanced over his shoulder with a frown that turned into a grin. “You having fun over there?”

“Just dandy.” Lachlan rolled his eyes.

Mark chuckled and turned back to the cabinet he’d recently installed. He had already completed a row of tiles around the mirror above the sink. The customer wanted tiles to the ceiling. Lachlan needed to get a move on so they could set the new tub in concrete at the base and let it dry overnight.

He hammered the floor around the bathtub like a woodchopper in a carnival competition. Sweat trickled down his back, his heart pounding in his chest. At least he didn’t need a gym membership. This job gave him a healthy workout. The bathtub tilted, free from any support. He scuffed his steel-toed boot against the last bit of rubble from the base. He lowered his hammer to the floor in a squat and rose again, arching his back. Argh, he’d be sore in the morning. How did Mark work year in and year out in this industry? Intense.

Mark had a wall of tiles in place. “Ready for a lunch break?”

“Yeah, I’m ready to call it quits.” Lachlan rolled his shoulders.

“Your muscles just for show, bro?”

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