First Love Again. Kristina Knight
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pushed the take-out container filled with deep-fried fish away and busied herself with the reunion file. “What are we going to do about this?”
“As de facto cochair of the reunion committee with you, I think we’re going to order cake and punch and call it good?” Maureen answered hopefully.
“Fine.” Jaime sighed and twirled her pencil in her hand. “We’ll start the dinner shifts at four on Friday and be fine. Winery tours on Saturday before the big party?”
“And that brings us to the school and the big party...but first we need a new estimate, right?”
Jaime narrowed her eyes at Maureen’s innocent expression. “New estimate?” Lord, why was she always surprised at how quickly the grapevine worked on Gulliver. Of course Maureen knew not only about the possible demo but also the new estimate.
And Emmett.
Maureen blinked. Jaime tapped her foot. Maureen rolled her eyes. “Fine, Rick called Clancy and you know my husband is a dear, sweet man who can’t keep anything to himself. Emmett’s back. The school is on the chopping block. You’re in the middle. You could have told me all this yourself, you know, instead of pacing around your office and fiddling with your shirt.”
Jaime dropped her hands to her sides. “It’s just an estimate, and then we get the project back on track and save the reunion.”
“Do you think Emmett was serious?”
“About saving the building? You know as well as I do that he loves old buildings. I’d say he was serious.”
“And how are you?”
“Why would I be anything but fine?” Jaime doodled on the corner of her desk blotter. “I’m not pining for the one who got away.”
“I only ask because there haven’t been very many since The One.”
Jaime made a face. “That’s only because most of the available men on the island are my dad’s age. Not interested.”
“One semiserious relationship that ended more than three years ago.”
“As I said most of the available men—”
“Clancy works with a couple of guys on the mainland—”
“Maybe after the reunion.” But preferably never. Jaime didn’t want to be fixed up. She didn’t want to be alone, either, but maybe that was for the best.
“Jaime, you can’t want to be single for the rest of your life. You don’t date locals. You don’t go to the mainland to meet new people.”
“I’m busy.” Her gaze snagged on the folder filled with the highlights of her former friends’ lives. She didn’t want to read about the big lives of her classmates. Didn’t want to argue with her father about the old school. Didn’t want to be alone but didn’t want the whole This Is Why I’m Disfigured conversation, either.
“You make time for the things that are important.”
“Right now the school is important...the reunion.”
“Maybe you and Emmett—”
She shook her head. “Not happening and not because he disappeared on prom night. He’s back but he won’t stay. I won’t leave.”
“How do you know he isn’t back for good?”
Jaime snorted. “Emmett Deal has a successful business, a television show and zero ties to Gulliver.”
“His dad is here.”
“He didn’t come back for his mother’s memorial service, Mo.”
“He attended the funeral services on the mainland. Besides, the ‘service’ here was more of an impromptu Remember When gathering.”
“Don’t defend him.”
“I’m not defending. I’m saying he was with Gibson at the actual funeral, and you know Gib goes down to Cincinnati a couple of times each year.”
“Whose side are you on?”
“Yours. You know that, I just... You keep telling me it’s been ten years. Maybe he’s ready to come home?”
Jaime swallowed. Thinking of Emmett as the aloof person he’d become after Pittsburgh was so much simpler than thinking of him as someone who missed home. “I don’t think Gibson being on the island is the huge draw you think it is,” she said, but her voice sounded breathy to her own ears.
Maureen plucked the phone from Jaime’s desk. “Then call him. We can’t do much more planning until we know the school will actually be available by reunion weekend.”
Jaime watched the handset as if it might reach over and bite her. Then reluctantly took it from Maureen’s hand and put it back.
“I might have better luck if I just show up.”
Ten minutes later Jaime turned her golf cart off the main island road onto the long drive to Emmett’s family home. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been here. Definitely before his mother had passed away.
The house came into view and she stopped abruptly. The pretty old Victorian looked...worse than the school. The front porch sagged, most of the paint had worn away and the lawn was not mowed. Gibson Deal had always been particular about the house; the sight of its disrepair didn’t make any sense.
But Emmett’s coming back suddenly did.
* * *
EMMETT WAS JUST getting ready to go to the dump when he spotted Jaime sitting in a red golf cart in the driveway. “Hi,” he said and tossed the keys onto the front seat of his truck. He walked to the golf cart. “The trustees didn’t call. I figured they won the argument.”
“Not yet.” She mumbled something else that sounded suspiciously like not ever and then smiled brightly at him. “I’m here to take you up on the offer of an estimate. We’ve already had one, but after Luther Thomas walked out on the job the trustees want to make sure there are no more surprises.”
“And if I have plans?” He raised an eyebrow at her.
“You don’t.” She waited a long moment and finally said, “Are you coming or do I also have to look for another estimate?”
“I haven’t been asked onto the project yet.”
“I just did.” She blew out a breath that made the curls at her forehead dance. Emmett bit back a smile. She was still so easy to rile up.
“No, you said you were here to take me up on my offer. But you didn’t actually ask me to give an estimate, and as part of my offer I did say the trustees should call if they wanted my help.”
“I’m as close as you’re getting to a trustee today so either get in or get out of my way.”
Emmett clicked his tongue against his teeth. Maybe he’d misjudged Jaime yesterday. She’d looked lost and forlorn in those baggy clothes and, despite the determination in her gaze, it was obvious she’d been about to cave to the trustees’ demands. This Jaime was different. She wore khaki pants and a fitted top and her manicured nails were tap-tap-tapping against the golf cart’s steering wheel. This Jaime was in charge. It was nice to see.
“I’m not in your way,” he said, making a flourish with his hands as he moved farther into the yard and away from what was left of the circular drive that led back to the lane.
“You know what I mean. Just get in the cart. Please?” she added almost as an afterthought.
He hadn’t actually called the trash barge. He could go to the school and then deal with the load of trash. “Fine, just let me get a couple of things,” he said.
A few minutes later he was in his dad’s golf cart with a pencil, level and a few other tools in a belt on the front