She regarded him with surprise. “In Widow’s Cove?”
Patrick chafed under the hint of disapproval he thought he heard. “I bought and paid for it. Why shouldn’t I put up No Trespassing signs?”
“It’s just unusual in a friendly town like this,” she said. “Most people don’t see the need.”
“I don’t like being bothered.” No need to explain that the signs were meant as a deterrent for certain specific people, Patrick thought. If they kept everyone else away, too, so much the better.
He glanced up and caught sight of Matt Foster coming through the door. “Ricky’s dad’s here,” he told Alice, making no attempt to hide his relief. “I’ll speak to him and tell him what happened, then I’ll be getting back to my boat.”
“I’ll explain,” Alice insisted, her chin jutting up with determination as she slid from the booth. “It’s my responsibility.”
“Whatever,” he said with a shrug. “One word of advice, though. Next time you think about taking your class for a stroll, think again. Either that or keep ’em away from the docks.”
There was a surprising flash of temper in her eyes at the order he’d clumsily tried to disguise as advice. For an instant Patrick thought she was going to address him with another burst of unladylike profanity, but one glance at the children silenced her. Discretion didn’t dim the sparks in her eyes, nor did it quiet her tongue. She looked him straight in the eye and said, “If the occasion ever arises again, I’ll certainly consider your point of view, Mr. Devaney.”
The fact that her meek tone was counterpointed by sparks of barely restrained annoyance pretty much ruined the polite effect he was sure she intended. Patrick shook his head.
“Just keep ’em away from my dock, then,” he said, dropping all pretenses. “And that’s not a simple request, Ms. Newberry. That’s an order.”
She was still sputtering indignantly when he spoke to Matt and then walked out the door.
Something about that little display of temper got to him, made his blood heat in a way it hadn’t for a while. He savored the sensation for a moment, then deliberately dismissed it. All it proved was that he needed to keep his distance from Alice Newberry. If a woman could get under his skin with a flash of temper, then he’d been seriously deprived of female companionship for far too long. He suspected the kindergarten teacher with the tragic past and the vulnerable expression was the last woman on earth he should choose to change that.
Chapter Two
The minute he’d taken a hot shower and changed into dry clothes, Patrick headed for the hardware store in downtown Widow’s Cove. Today’s near tragedy had been just the wake-up call he needed to repair the dock once and for all.
He’d let too many things slip the past few years, not caring about anything more than the hours at sea, the size of his catch and a cold beer at the end of a hard day. Ricky Foster’s plunge into the ocean had shocked him back to reality. Unless he planned to move to some uninhabited island, Patrick couldn’t keep the world at bay forever. And since he couldn’t, he’d better be prepared for the intrusions, if only to make sure that no one could sue his butt off.
That cynical response aside, he had another pressing issue to consider—his disturbing reaction to Alice Newberry. He could fix the dock to keep some other kid from tripping, but he wasn’t nearly as sure how to go about protecting himself from the likes of the teacher.
Maybe Molly would give him some pointers on that score. The two women were obviously acquainted. He figured, knowing Molly, that asking questions would stir up a hornet’s nest, but that was still better than risking another encounter when Alice Newberry could catch him off guard and get to him with those big golden eyes of hers.
At the old-fashioned hardware store, which was stacked from floor to ceiling with every size nut and bolt imaginable, along with tools for everything from fixing a leak to building a mansion, Patrick picked out the nails he needed to repair the dock, added some treated lumber to replace the boards that were warped beyond repair, then went up to the counter.
Caleb Jenkins, who’d taken over the store from his father fifty years ago and modernized very little beyond the selection of merchandise, gave him a nod and what passed for a smile. “Figured you’d be in,” he said.
“Oh?”
“Heard what happened on the dock,” Caleb explained. “Board’s been loose since Red Foley bought that dock thirty years ago. Told him a hundred times, the dang thing was a danger. Would’ve told you the same thing, if you’d come in here before now, but you’ve been making yourself scarce since you moved over here from your folks’ place.”
Patrick’s grin faltered at the mention of his parents, but that was a discussion he didn’t intend to have—not with Caleb Jenkins, not with anyone. He’d written his folks off, and the reasons were his business and his alone. The fact that they were less than thirty miles away meant he was bound to run into people who knew them from time to time. It didn’t mean he had to discuss his personal business.
Instead he focused on the rest of Caleb’s comment. “Doubt I’d have listened any better than Red,” he told the old man.
“Probably not.” Caleb shook his head. “You get old and finally know a thing or two and nobody wants to listen. Heard the boy’s okay, though.”
“Just wet and scared,” Patrick confirmed. “I imagine Matt will have quite a bit to say to him.”
“Doubtful. Matt never had a lick of sense. Always in a hurry, Matt was. Boy’s the same way,” he said, confirming Patrick’s previous thought that like father, like son.
“You have a point,” Patrick agreed.
“Matt lived to tell a tale or two about his narrow escapes. I imagine his son will, too.”
“Hope so,” Patrick said. He peeled off the money to pay for the nails and lumber, anxious to get home, finish the needed work and put this day behind him.
Caleb gave him a sly look as he handed back the receipt. “Hear Alice Newberry took what happened real hard.”
“She was upset, but she’ll get over it. After all, there was no real harm done.”
“Doubt Loretta will see it that way,” Caleb said, shaking his head. “How that woman ended up principal of a school is beyond me. She never did understand kids. You gotta let ’em explore and discover things for themselves. They’re bound to make a few mistakes along the way, but that’s just part of living, don’t you think?”
Patrick hadn’t given the topic much thought, since he had no kids of his own and didn’t intend to. “Makes sense to me,” he said, mostly to end the conversation. He had a hunch Caleb was leading up to something Patrick didn’t want to hear.
Unfortunately, Caleb wasn’t the least bit daunted. “Maybe you ought to go by the school and have a word with Loretta.”
Patrick gave him a hard look. “Me? Why should I get involved?”
“You are involved,” Caleb pointed out. “The boy fell off your dock. Besides, a man ought to be willing to help out a woman when she needs looking after. That’s the way of the world.”
The old-fashioned world, maybe, Patrick thought. He wasn’t sure he had any reason to get involved in Alice Newberry’s salvation. As well, he had a hunch she could stand up for herself just fine. Aside from that brief display of tears, which he attributed to shock, she hadn’t hesitated to speak her mind to him. She seemed to have some sort of fixation on personal accountability, too. He doubted she would appreciate him running to her rescue.
“I’ll think about it,” he told Caleb.