Page 17 of Second Chance in Charlevoix
“Her house, her choice.” Skipper sent a look her way. “Having both of us upstairs didn’t sit well with her. She wants to make sure there won’t be any ‘hanky panky.’ Her words. I’ll help her up the stairs each night.”
“Hanky panky” made Izzy laugh. The wordssounded so much like Skipper’s mother. “Did you tell her no way that was going to happen.”
“Let's let her imagination run wild. It will give her something to do. She actually got out some of Ainsley's old Cabbage Patch dolls for Holly.”
“How will your sister feel about that?”
“We'll just have to wait and see. Ainsley never comes home. She hasn’t played with those in a very long time.”
Men never did understand about a girl and her dolls.
As they rode along, Izzy thought of a book she’d read in High School.Tale of Two Citieswas set during the French Revolution.People were taken to the guillotine in timbrels, carts that rumbled through the cobblestone streets while people along the road cheered.
Now, what made her think of that?
Chapter 9
Marlowe
Acool morning breeze brought a shiver as Marlowe waited for Brad. Dawn was breaking and a sleepy hush cloaked downtown Charlevoix. The beachy smell made Marlowe think of the shoreline a few blocks away. Since her arrival she hadn’t had much time to visit the beach. Besides, it was still a little chilly. As the weather warmed, the ice floes had slowly melted. But the sand would still be cold underfoot.
Marlowe felt jittery this morning and she needed this run. Seeing her sister Izzy go off with Skipper the day before had brought mixed emotions. She understood Izzy's thinking about having a house safe for Holly. But would Izzy be welcome at Skipper’s? Irene Malone had never been a woman to forgive and forget.
While her mind raced, Marlowe started herwarmup stretches. Her sister’s situation carried all kinds of complications. If this living arrangement didn't work out, would that cause a problem at the bakery? Skipper’s pastries were the cornerstone of Izzy’s business, from what Marlowe could see. It would be a shame if tension developed between the two and Skipper decided to leave.
If there was one thing Marlowe had learned in Naples, it was to not mix business with your personal life. Glancing at Skipper's face as she helped load the boxes into the back of his pickup, Marlowe thought she saw some mixed feelings. But maybe that was her imagination.
She was swinging her arms in circles when Brad pulled up in a Jeep. Since she’d met him while he was driving the bus for the residents of Tall Oaks, this new look was startling. Different and edgy.
He'd suggested meeting at the corner of Park Avenue and State. No one was around so she had no trouble parking her convertible, the top up of course. She'd suspected that Brad was fit. Today as he swung out of the Jeep in his running clothes, she realized that hadn’t done him justice. Brad was ripped, as Izzy would say. And energized. Did the man ever have a bad day? This morning he wore the same bright smile she’d seen at Tall Oaks when he made the rounds at bingo. No wonder the residents were crazy about him.
“I thought we'd start with a downtown loop. Callthis a scenic tour,” Brad said, joining her in some basic exercises.
“Sounds great.” She tried to look away as he did his own stretches. But it wasn’t easy. And she began to wonder. Did his statement about the “scenic tour” mean he wanted to judge her pace on familiar streets? Marlowe was not to be outrun by a six foot two guy just because he looked as if he was born to run. Her competitive nature kicked in.
“Ready?” Brad asked after some hamstring stretches.
“Absolutely, whenever you are.”
“Do you ever use a running app?”
“Sure do and thanks for reminding me.” Taking her phone out of the pouch she wore around her waist, Marlowe clicked on her app. She wanted to keep this route so that later she could run it alone. Brad took off.
“We’ll head for a mushroom house,” he said after they'd settled into a comfortable pace for a couple of blocks.
Now that struck a chord. “The mushroom houses. My dad loved them. I think there's a book somewhere at Sunnycrest about the architect. Name was Young, right?”
She almost laughed at the surprised look on Brad's face. “Yes, Earl Young. He’s earned a lot of respect around here. I guess you read that book prettycarefully.”
“My dad was a teacher. Some things were required reading.”
“Not a bad thing.”
“No, not at all.” Her father had left her with a lot of good memories. He would have approved of the route Brad was taking past the mushroom house and that made her smile.
“Secret joke?” Brad asked.
My, the man was observant. “Not really. Just thinking about my dad.”
