Page 52 of When Summer Returns

“I’ve noticed.” His gaze traveled briefly down her form before returning to her eyes, the appreciation there making her cheeks warm. “I thought you might want to check on your father’s place.”

The offer was considerate, and exactly what the old Jessie would have expected. But she wasn’t that woman anymore.

“The plywood will hold or it won’t,” she said firmly. “The island needs help, and I’d rather be useful than worry about a house I’m probably going to demolish anyway.”

Luke’s eyebrows rose, but he simply nodded. “Fair enough. In that case, we could use someone to coordinate volunteer assignments. You handled shelter logistics like you were born to it.”

“Finance skills transfer surprisingly well to disaster management.” She drained her coffee. “Give me twenty minutes to shower and change.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He sketched a mock salute that shouldn’t have been attractive but somehow was.

By eight o’clock, Seeker’s Paradise had transformed from hurricane shelter to recovery headquarters. The cots were gone, replaced by folding tables covered with maps and clipboards. The bar itself became a command center where Reece’s deputies tracked work teams and monitored emerging problems. The kitchen operated at full capacity, Mateo and his crew churning out sandwiches and coffee for hungry volunteers.

Jessie, armed with a clipboard and a hastily created spreadsheet, managed the steady stream of islanders arriving to help. She matched skills to needs with the efficiency that had made her a rising star in the financial world, but with a warmth her corporate persona had rarely shown.

“Mrs. Delacourt, we need someone with medical training at the north beach cleanup,” she directed an elderly woman whose pink cardigan somehow remained perfectly pressed despite hurricane conditions. “They’re clearing debris near the playground and could use your nursing expertise for minor injuries.”

“Happy to help, dear. Though I hope you realize I’m retired,” the woman said, patting Jessie’s arm. “I mainly diagnose suspicious rashes at bridge club these days.”

“Trust me, that’s qualification enough for splinter removal,” Jessie assured her with a smile.

As Mrs. Delacourt departed, clipboard in hand, Maggie appeared at Jessie’s side, medical bag slung over her shoulder.

“You’re good at this,” the doctor observed, scanning the organized chaos with approval. “Last major storm, we had three different people assigning volunteers to the same tasks. It was like disaster recovery designed by the Three Stooges.”

“Organization is just applied common sense.” Jessie checked off another task on her master list. “How’s the leg?”

“Functional.” Maggie shrugged. “I’ve slapped enough butterfly bandages on it to create an actual butterfly, but it’ll hold. Unlike my clinic roof.” She sighed, frustration evident. “Four months of paperwork ahead, minimum.”

“Tell me about it,” Luke interjected, joining their conversation with a fresh stack of work orders. His T-shirt bore evidence of the morning’s labor—sweat stained and smudged with something that might have been motor oil. “Insurance adjusters won’t reach the island until roads clear, which means we’re all documenting like crazy and hoping for the best.”

“Speaking of documentation,” Jessie said, “we need drone footage of major damage sites. Anyone on the island have one that survived?”

Luke and Maggie exchanged looks.

“What?” Jessie asked.

“Reece has one,” Maggie said with barely concealed amusement. “He uses it to check coastal erosion, allegedly.”

“But really to monitor the north cove where those European tourists keep trying to establish an unofficial topless beach,” Luke added with a grin. “Reece claims it’s for documentation of ordinance violations but he sure takes a lot of footage.”

“Perfect. Can you get it?”

“Can I get what?” Reece materialized behind them, his sheriff’s uniform replaced by work clothes that didn’t disguise his authority one bit.

“Your drone,” Luke explained. “For damage assessment.”

Reece nodded, already a step ahead. “Already planned on it. I’ve got the battery packs charging at the station.” He pulled out his phone, checking something. “Should be ready in an hour. We’ll do a systematic grid of the entire island, starting with the areas we haven’t been able to physically access yet.”

“That’s perfect,” Jessie said, impressed by his foresight. “I’ll coordinate with the assessment teams so they know what to expect.”

“Already sent them the preliminary flight plan,” Reece said, showing her his phone screen where a mapped route of the island was clearly marked. “But having you sync the ground teams would be a big help.”

Maggie smiled. “Always two steps ahead of everyone else, aren’t you, Sheriff?”

“Just doing my job,” he replied, though the slight softening around his eyes when he looked at Maggie didn’t go unnoticed by Jessie.

“Of course,” Jessie agreed. “We wouldn’t dream of interfering with official county equipment.”

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