A Small-Town Reunion. Terry McLaughlin
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over the floor, cloaking the evidence. If she found too much breakage, she didn’t know what she’d do—she couldn’t afford to replace ruined stock, and she couldn’t afford a hike in her insurance rates.
She grabbed the hem of her nightshirt and twisted the fabric in her fist. “I’d better get out there and have a look. I’ve got to open in a few hours.”
“That’s right. You’re busy.” Lena’s tone had shifted into a familiar gear: politely strained and faintly injured. “Sorry I bothered you. I won’t keep you, then. I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”
“I told you—I’m fine.” Addie pressed two fingers against the spot between her eyes, where a headache brewed. Sometimes it was difficult to be patient with her mother, but Addie always dug deep to find the appreciation she deserved. Addie had never known her father—he’d disappeared shortly after Lena had informed him she was pregnant. Her mother had sacrificed so much to give her daughter everything she needed; surely Addie could afford to spare her a little time. “And it’s not a bother,” she added. “Thank you for checking up on me. I appreciate it, really.”
“I know you do. You’re a good girl, Addie.”
“Yep, that’s me,” she agreed with a weak smile. “A good girl.”
She disconnected and stood for a short while as pearly dawn light tickled its way through a fuzzy blanket of fog. A good girl. A twenty-nine-year-old wimp with an overweight cat, an overbearing mother and a business teetering on the brink of bankruptcy.
A faint rumble shot her pulse into triple digits before she identified the sound as a passing fire truck—probably an earthquake-related emergency call. She straightened, sucked in a deep breath and aimed her attitude toward positive as she pulled her broom from the cupboard. It was just another Thursday, and she had a new day to face and responsibilities to handle. But first, she had a cat to rescue.
BY OPENING TIME, Addie had cleared the mess in her shop and was beginning to inventory the full extent of the damage. An entire section of rough-rolled and glue-chip glass was gone, and the sample box of cathedral-glass squares had fallen from its shelf, damaging the tiled tabletop below. She’d called her insurance agent to discuss the possibility of a claim, and she’d fretted over how she’d deal with the deductible.
Her lips thinned in a tight, tense frown as she swept shards too small to use for scrap into her dustpan. A Slice of Light’s financial situation was so precarious that one good shove would send it toppling over the edge. She hoped this earthquake hadn’t been the shove to do it.
“Morning.” Tess Roussel, the Cove’s newest architect and one of Addie’s best friends, strode into the shop on a pair of stylish heels, wearing a neon-pink sundress and toting a matching neon-pink handbag and two cups of takeout coffees from the café around the corner. “I wanted to see if you’d survived. Hell of a way to start a Thursday.”
“I’m all right,” Addie said as she took one of the cups. The rich, earthy scent of the brew triggered a rumble through her empty midsection, reminding her she’d skipped breakfast. “I’m not so sure about Dilly. He’s probably considering running away from home.”
“That tubbo tabby?” Tess brushed polished fingertips through her short, black hair. “He’d never make it past his food bowl.”
Sipping her coffee, Tess wandered to the deep storage bins suspended on one of the brick side walls, noting the empty spaces. “I see all the reds are gone. And most of the yellows, too.”
“Figures the most expensive stock would be the stuff to fall.” Addie dumped the contents of the dustpan into her industrial-size trash bin. “I don’t know how I’m going to replace it.”
“You’ve got to replace it. We need it for Tidewaters.”
Tidewaters was Tess’s masterpiece, a clever combination of fabulous commercial space and gorgeous condo units under construction along the waterfront. She’d generously incorporated several stained-glass windows and panels into her design, and Addie had counted on that upcoming contract to give her business a needed boost.
“Believe me, I’m aware of that,” Addie said. “That project is the one thing that’s keeping me from advertising a going-out-of-business sale.”
“You can’t quit. And it’s not just because I need you.” Tess gestured toward the fanciful displays hanging in the window. “You’ve poured everything
you’ve got into this business. Besides, you’re too talented to simply give up and walk away from it.”
“Thanks for the support. You have no idea how much it means to me.” Addie shoved the broom into its cupboard. “But talent doesn’t pay the bills. I haven’t sold anything in days. Summer’s always tough without the university students around to shop for their projects, but I can usually count on the tourists to fill in the gap. This year the gap’s gotten wider. Lately the window-shoppers haven’t been buying any windows.”
“What about your idea for classes?” Tess rested her hip against the corner of a display table, letting one of her long legs dangle. “With the delays at Tidewaters, you could squeeze some in before business picks up again.”
Addie winced at Tess’s mention of the setbacks at the construction site. A stretch of vandalism had ended two weeks earlier in a spectacular blaze, leveling the framed skeleton of Tess’s design to its foundation. Tess had been devastated, but she’d rebounded almost immediately with a surprising engagement to Quinn, the general contractor on the project. Now the two of them were working harder than ever to raise their building from the ashes.
“I can’t just advertise classes,” Addie said. “I need to come up with lesson plans, and check on the insurance, and—”
“So do it.” Tess took another sip of her coffee. “And get a move on. Offer a special summer session for whiny ten-year-olds, and I promise Rosie Quinn will be the first to sign up.”
“You want me to offer a bunch of kids the opportunity to slice themselves on cut glass or burn themselves with soldering irons?”
“So it wasn’t one of my most brilliant ideas.” Tess shrugged. “Desperation must be taking its toll.”
Addie smiled. It was a struggle imagining her friend as a stepmother—and Addie was certain Tess was having the same trouble adjusting to the idea. “Is Rosie giving you trouble?”
“Nothing I can’t handle with tranquilizers and pain relievers. For me, not the kid,” Tess added. “I’m sure we’ll figure things out, right about the time she leaves for college.”
“What about kids of your own?”
“God.” Tess grimaced and lowered her cup. “Let’s talk about something more pleasant, like a nuclear blast on Main Street. Or how we’re going to get Charlie to commit to a date for her bridal shower.”
“I’m relieved she finally set a date for the wedding.” Charlie Keene, their friend since elementary-school days, had agreed to marry Jack Maguire, her new business partner in Keene Concrete. But Charlie’s dread of being the center of public attention and her dislike of formal social events, shopping, lace and tulle were complicating the wedding plans.
And Tess’s love of the social events and shopping Charlie detested—not to mention her fondness for organizing her friends’ personal business—had made her the logical choice for Charlie’s maid of honor.
“Jack threatened to arrange for a flock of doves and a dance orchestra,” Tess said. “That got her minimalist rear in gear.”
“Even his threats are romantic,” Addie said with a dreamy sigh. “He really loves her, doesn’t he?”
“Poor guy.” Tess grinned. “I remember threatening him with thumbscrews when he first blew into town. Turns out getting engaged to Charlie was worse than any torture I could have dreamed up.”
Addie