“I’ll call.”
Carl nodded and headed toward the door while Sarah and Garrett hung back. “You got a second?” Garrett asked.
“Sure.” Adam turned and reminded himself that the intimidation radiating off this man was all because he cared deeply about this island and its residents. “What can I do for you two?”
“My brother, Jesse, is the best carpenter on the island,” Garrett said.
“Jesse’s my husband,” Sarah added. “He couldn’t be here tonight, but I know he’d want to work for you.”
“Tell him to stop by my trailer as soon as he can and we’ll figure out what crew to put him on.”
“No references, or resume?” Sarah asked.
“Nope. I don’t say this about everyone I meet, but your word’s good enough for me.” He paused and turned to Garrett. “By the way, Duffy’s was in a pretty old building. The layout of the place was a bit antiquated by today’s standards. It wouldn’t cost any more for you and Erica to sit down with an architect and tweak the designs a bit. It might even save some money.”
Garrett nodded. “That’s a damned good idea. I never did like the fact that I couldn’t see the lake from the bar.”
“There’s your silver lining.” Adam patted him on the back. With the way this project was going, he had a feeling he was going to need every friend he could get.
CHAPTER FOUR
“FREE TRADE GOODS. MADE BY women in the U.S.A.” Marin analyzed the Whimsy business files on Missy’s home computer. “I hate to tell you this, sis, but you’re spending way too much for the inventory at your gift shop.”
“And I hate to tell you this,” Missy said as she continued folding laundry at her kitchen table. “But that’s exactly the point.”
Frustrated, Marin flipped through month after month of profit and loss statements. Some months, her sister was barely making any money and others she was losing her shirt. “Who does your accounting?”
“I do my monthly stuff and an accountant in Ashland does my taxes. A payroll company pays Gaia and any other summer help I need.”
“Speaking of which, you’re paying your employees too much.”
“College is expensive these days. I’m doing what I can to help my staff.”
Marin pulled up several more files on Missy’s computer and continued poring through one spreadsheet after another. Her sister was the worst businesswoman Marin had ever run across. “Your profit margins suck. In some cases, you’re actually losing money on the stuff you sell.”
Missy smiled. “I know.”
“You need to raise your prices and start buying cheaper goods from China.”
“Next thing I’ll be outsourcing everything.” Her sister laughed. “Marin, my gift shop isn’t about making money. I’m lucky enough to have a balance in my trust fund that lets me do whatever I want. And part of what I want is to give back. My gift shop helps me do that by buying goods from people all over the world who are struggling so that they can put food in their mouths. And help to support single, working moms here in the U.S. so they can feel good about getting a fresh start.”
Marin sighed. “Okay, I get it.”
“Do you?”
“Kind of.” Marin shrugged. “But I guess it’s hard to slough off the whole bottom line thing.”
“Tell me something,” Missy said, snapping out a T-shirt. “Do you really like all that business stuff? I mean really, really love it.”
“Well, I—”
“Just think about it for a minute.”
“There are parts of it I enjoy. Like the fact that it feels vital and in the moment. But I have to admit that there are days I’m not crazy about what I’m doing.”
“So do something else.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t you take this time on Mirabelle to get all that finance mumbo jumbo out of your head so you can recharge. Get some perspective on life.”
“And how do I manage that?”
“I don’t know. Paint your nails. Daydream. Read a book.”
Snorting, Marin returned to analyzing the spreadsheets.
Missy stalked over to her then and flipped a switch on the computer, shutting it down.
“What did you do that for?”
“When’s the last time you read something other than the Wall Street Journal? Something purely for entertainment?”
“High school.”
“Then you’re long past due.” She grabbed a book down from the stack on her desk hutch and held it out toward Marin. “Here.”
The book cover depicted a bare-chested man and a woman in a flowing gown in what looked like a desperate embrace. Marin laughed out loud. “A romance? Seriously?”
“Try it. You might like it.”
“HIGHER, GAMMA!”
“Higher!”
“Okay, here we go!” Angelica announced as she pushed the two boys in their swings, one part of an elaborate backyard play system that Jonas had built.
A picture-perfect late summer day, like all the others had been since they’d arrived on Mirabelle, the sun was shining, a light breeze was blowing and the scent of petunias was in the air. Marin was bent over weeding Missy’s vegetable garden when Missy came outside with a pitcher of iced tea and several glasses. “Time for a break, Marin.”
Marin slipped off the gardening gloves she’d borrowed from Missy, sat beside her on the patio and took a long drink of cold sweet tea.
Missy sat on one of the other chairs and watched their mother with her two boys. “What do you suppose is the crux of the issue between her and Dad?”
“He’s a self-absorbed ass and she’s fed up.”
“It’s never that simple.” Missy sighed. “She’s such a good grandma.”
“Not surprising, considering how devoted she’s always been as a mother.”
Suddenly, Michael started fussing for no apparent reason. A moment later, Nate followed suit.
“Time to go read, boys.” Missy stood. “Aka, naptime,” she whispered to Marin.
Their mother lifted the boys out of their swings and walked them across the yard. “I’ll see you boys later.”
“Bye, Gamma,” they both called together. “Bye, Mairn.”
“It’s so cute the way they say your name.”
“Yeah. Cute.”
The minute the door closed, Angelica sat in the chair next to Marin and sipped her iced tea. “I love the city,” she said. “But I might be able to get used to this.”
“We’ve only been here a few days,” Marin said. “Wait a few weeks. I have a feeling you’ll be bored out of your mind.”
“Oh, I’m already a bit bored, but I’m sure I could find plenty to do here.”
“Do you mean you’re thinking of, like, living here?” Marin asked, astounded. For as long as she could remember, her parents had split their time between D.C. and Manhattan. The Camden idea of wilderness had been Cape Cod.
“Goodness, no.” Angelica