He looked to his side and saw Monroe standing there, holding a six-pack. “What are you doing here?”
Monroe held up the pack of beer, tilted her head, and smiled. “I thought you could use someone to talk to.”
Bowie hung his head. Monroe never came out and asked if he had feelings for Brooklyn, but he never hid them either. When they were teens, he had done everything he could to be near her, even if it had meant being a third wheel with her and Austin. Bowie held the door for Monroe and followed her into the house. He took the bottles of beer from her and motioned for her to go out onto his deck.
“I can’t believe she’s back. Part of me is elated because I’ve missed her. The other part is pissed off.”
He nodded and took a long pull off the bottle. “Yep.”
“She’s the talk of the town.”
“Small-town gossip is all.”
“People seem to think the world of her. They’re not even mad at her or anything.” He took another drink while Monroe continued to talk. “I heard she has a kid.”
“Daughter, named Brystol.”
“I’m trying not to be mad, but it hurts. She just left us. I get taking a vacation, but to just outright abandon us like we hadn’t lost someone important too is just rude.”
“You seemed chummy at the Spout the other night.”
“I try not to hold a grudge. Plus, she apologized for our earlier encounter.”
“At least she’s speaking to you. She doesn’t talk to me, although I don’t really give her a chance.”
“Why not?”
That was an open-ended question that Bowie wasn’t willing to answer. There wasn’t a need to rehash an old crush, especially when it couldn’t go anywhere.
“Don’t have anything to discuss, I guess.”
“What’s it like working with her?”
Against his will, his lips turned up into a smile. He could tell Monroe that watching Brooklyn work was easily becoming his favorite hobby and that he thought about purposely skipping parts of his job so he could watch her take care of it. If it were Graham sitting next to him and not Monroe, he’d probably come clean about his lurking. As it was, Monroe only had suspicions about his crush and not actual facts.
“She’s good at what she does, that’s for sure. Hard worker.”
“You sound like you’re recommending her for a job.”
He shook his head and brought the brown bottle to his lips. “Thanks for the beer.”
“Uh-huh. How long is she here for?”
Bowie cleared his throat. “Until the job’s done, I imagine. Carly hired her to redesign the inn. I do know Carly asked her to stay. Wants Brooklyn to put down roots for Brystol.”
“Have you met her?”
He nodded. “She’s a spitting image of Brooklyn. Walks like her, talks like her, even flips her hair like her. When I first saw her, this sense of déjà vu washed over me, and I thought I was back in school, seeing her for the first time.”
“I can’t believe she kept her a secret all this time.”
Bowie glanced at his friend. “She didn’t. According to Brystol, she visits every summer. Carly kept her hidden from everyone.”
“Why?”
Absentmindedly, he started to pick the label off the beer bottle, only to remember he was drinking one of those fancy IPAs everyone loved these days. “I don’t know, Roe. I’m tempted to ask her, but I’m not sure I’d like the answer.”
He finished his beer and took another one out of the cardboard case. He wanted to blame his increased drinking on Brooklyn’s return. It was only part of it. He was trying to numb his past from creeping up on him. Sadly, his attempts failed.
SEVENTEEN
As luck would have it, the coast was experiencing a heat wave with temperatures threatening to reach the high nineties. It was rare for this area to get above seventy-five. The days were mostly beautiful, even when it rained, and the nights cool. Except for this week. By the time Brooklyn woke up, she was in a full sweat. It was going to be a long day of labor under the scorching heat, which meant some unpleasant people.
She was the first one to arrive at the inn. Not uncommon, but as of late she and Bowie had an unspoken competition going on. She had no idea where he lived or how far he had to drive to get there, but there were mornings when he was already working by the time she got out of bed. Since her return to Cape Harbor, her sleep pattern had been off. There were nights when she stared out the window, looking out over the dark water and listening to the distant sound of the waves, waiting for her mind to shut. Other times, she was up before the sun and ready to start the day.
On this particular morning, she was the victor in beating Bowie to work, and she almost wished she wasn’t. Over the years, Brooklyn had mastered a lot of crafts. She could use a power saw with no problem. She could replace a light and even a light socket. Sledgehammer, nail gun, and paint machine were no match for her. What she couldn’t figure out was the old heating and cooling system. She pressed the button and waited for cool air to start flowing.