Page 5 of The Magic of Sea Glass
His smile fell, and he shook his head slowly to answer. “I’m doing some work for Mary,” he said.
“Oh.” She scolded herself for the accusation, realizing that his truck was full of wood and tools.
The interest and concern on his face only served to make her more uneasy. It was as if suddenly he could guess what was inside her head, making her heart pound.
It wasn’t like her to assume things. After losing Mason, she’d cocooned herself in her own little world with just work and the apartment that they shared, and now she was finding it hard to behave in regular life. As a wedding planner, she could fake it, smile at all the right times, rely on her schedules and clients’ needs, but here there was no agenda yet, and she wasn’t sure how to just be herself anymore.
“So are you a contractor?” she asked, trying to make conversation in an effort to be normal.
The corner of his mouth twitched upward, his curiosity about her clear in those eyes of his. “No, I just help her out. I’m a fisherman.”
“What kinds of fish do you catch out here?” She shielded her eyes to get another view of the ocean.
“Mostly mahi and tuna, but I only fish commercially part-time. A lot of my days are spent running a fishing charter for families who want someone to take them out on the water during their vacations, and then I take the winter off.”
The idea of happy families laughing and snapping photos as Brody drove them through the open sea, the wind against their faces, the spray of water on either side of the boat, lifted her mood considerably. She always imagined a full house for herself, but her career had put her plans for a family on hold. Mason had wanted to give her that family; the two of them talked for hours over coffee, teasing each other about how many kids they were going to have. He, too, had liked to fish. He’d asked her to go the day of the accident, but she’d told him she had to work…
“I’ll help you with your bags. Otherwise, Mary will probably offer, and she doesn’t need to put any extra weight on her joints.” Before she could protest, he grabbed her largest suitcase easily, swinging it onto the cart. “So you’re staying here, at the inn?” He grabbed two more bags and placed them next to her larger suitcase.
“Yes,” she replied. “I’m working with Mary too. I’m her new assistant.”
His forehead creased in interest. “She mentioned hiring some help. I’m glad she found someone.” He went over to Lauren’s car and took the last suitcases out, loading them up. While she shut the trunk, he began wheeling the cart toward the house.
Lauren shuffled up behind him as the waves crashed onto the shore just feet from the ramp. “Do you think this is okay?” She pointed toward the rushing tide near the inn. “Mary didn’t seem worried by it, but it’s coming awfully close.”
“The coastline’s constantly shifting. Eventually, she’ll probably need to fill the beach in with more sand or she might even have to move the whole thing back.” He waved a hand at the inn.
“Move thebuilding?” she asked, walking beside him while he pushed the cart up the ramp to the upper porch.
“Yeah, it comes with the territory around here. When the shoreline changes, it’s best to just move with it instead of trying to keep it where it is, or you’ll work yourself to death.”
She looked out at the immense expanse of the ocean, the meaning of his words running deeper for her than he’d meant them to. She was trying to move along with the changes in her life; she just wasn’t sure how to do that.
“Oh hello, Brody,” Mary said, holding the door open as they entered.
Brody pulled the bags off the cart, setting them inside. An elderly man with a crop of silver hair and skin that was as tough as leather was halfway through the back door leading to the porch.
“I didn’t know you were coming so soon.” Mary hurried over to them. “I’ll make another glass of lemonade.”
“Bye, Mary,” the old man called, raising his hand as he left out the back door. Through the window, he rubbed his arm with a gnarled hand, the age and years of work showing in his skin.
“Is he driving somewhere?” Lauren asked, worried for a man his age to be behind the wheel of a car.
Brody shrugged. “He never goes above fifteen miles an hour anyway. He’ll be fine.”
Lauren tried not to think about it, taking in her surroundings instead. The first thing she noticed was the wall of old windows along the back with a view of the ocean, and then the sunshine dancing on the surface of the water in the distance, which immediately gave her a sense of calm.
“Sit, sit,” Mary told them, fluttering a hand toward the old striped sofas facing each other in the open space. The room looked as if it had been decorated in a bygone era, with parlor palms and peace lilies dotting it.
Brody motioned for her to take a seat first, then went around the dark wood coffee table. A couple walked through the room, talking about one of the local restaurants, waving happily to Mary before leaving through the door next to Lauren’s bags.
“So where are you from?” Brody asked.
Lauren crossed her ankles and placed her hands on her thighs, her sundress gauzy under her fingers. “New York, but I grew up in Tennessee.”
That smirk returned, the sight of it making its mark on her already, and she barely knew him. “I thought I’d sensed a slight southern accent when I met you.”
She allowed a smile. “It’s tough to get rid of, isn’t it?” The tension in Lauren’s shoulders released just a little while Mary was in the other room getting their drinks; the act of conversation felt slightly easier now. The good days were the only thing that kept her above water, and she was thankful that today was one of them.
