Page 12 of Nothing Less than Magic
“Are you alright?” She sounds genuinely concerned, which surprises me.
I was expecting her to downplay the accident and gloat about Austin, whom she never really cared for. Why? I don’t know. Austin was never anything but nice to her. But I suppose we’re even, because I like her ex, Brent, about as much as I do leukemia, which is to say not much, though I never gave him a lot of thought, to be honest. And other than being my niece’s and nephew’s father and Lolly’s bottomless wallet, he’s out of the picture, so I don’t have to like him.
“I’m fine,” I say. At least physically I am, although that’s debatable, too. I’m seriously starting to suspect I have brain damage. Still, I refrain from telling her about the incident with the boat and dock or how I’ve stopped recognizing people. Why scare her?
“You should get a good lawyer.”
“For what? Austin and I worked out the settlement for our divorce nearly a year ago.”
“Not Austin, for the cable car. You should sue the city.”
I lie back down, pulling the covers up to my neck. “It was my fault, not the conductor’s. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
“He could’ve killed you, Chels.”
“Well, he didn’t.” I quickly change the subject. “What about you? How are the kids?”
“They’re spoiled little shits and take me for granted, but other than that, they’re great.”
I can hear a smile in her voice. “You should come to the cabin, Lolly. Bring them. The town is decked out for Halloween, and there’s a big parade. They’d have a ball.”
She sighs. “They’re in school. Besides, I give you and me ten minutes before we’re at each other’s throats.”
I want to say,whose fault is that? That’s the other thing. She’s never completely forgiven me for going away my freshman high school year to boarding school. But I thought we’d moved past that and all my other infractions, until a few years ago when she found a new perceived slight to be angry over. And instead of telling me all the things I’ve done wrong so we can hash it out like adults, she’s been giving me the silent treatment. It seems like our relationship went from bad—but tolerable—to worse in the blink of an eye.
I know how to pick my battles, though.
“At least think about it,” I say.
She doesn’t say no, so I take that as a win. Progress.
“I have to go now.”
Before I can say goodbye, she’s gone.
I roll over and go to sleep, only to be awakened at seven in the morning by the patter of rain on the roof.
The roof!
For the second time this morning, I bolt upright, then rush out of bed to inspect whether there is a swimming pool in the middle of my cabin, padding first into the living room and then into the kitchen where the original leak was. But all appears dry.
It’s coming down in sheets now as I stand at the window, staring out at the lake, watching the rain make ripples in the water. I hear the crunch of gravel in the driveway and rush into my room to shower and dress.
Thirty minutes later, I find Knox in my kitchen and coffee brewing. The smell makes me instantly happy. I reach in the cupboard for two mugs and place them on the counter next to the machine, impatient for my first cup.
“It’s too wet to work on the roof,” Knox says. “But I can fix your dock.”
“Sounds good.” The rain isn’t as hard as it was before, but it’s still falling fast enough to make puddles on the deck outside the kitchen window. “I didn’t see rain in the forecast.”
Knox shrugs. “Me neither. But I knew it was coming, that’s why I tarped the roof yesterday.” He gazes out over the backyard and lets out a breath.
The coffee is ready, and I pour us each a mug, then grab a carton of milk from the fridge. “You want eggs or something?”
“Nah, I ate before I came.”
It dawns on me that I know very little about Knox Hart. Not where he lives or whether he has any children, or if he can support a family, picking up handyman jobs. I’m guessing we’re similar in age, though he’s definitely more fit than I am. He’s a nice-looking man in a rugged sort of way, in the way men look around here. Austin used to joke that the guys in Ghost single-handedly keep the plaid industry afloat. It is true that Pendletons are the uniform of choice here.
I grab a bag of cookies from the pantry and take them and my coffee to the table. “Where do you live, Knox?”
