Page 53 of The Misfits of Copper County
Brewer’s expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes cooled several degrees.
“Hayes,” he said, and just that—his cousin’s name, in a tone that could have frozen boiling water—made Hayes’s smirk falter. “You can catch up with my dog later. Right now, my priority is handling this renovation and ensuring there’s no structural damage to the wall,” Brewer went on in a measured, professional voice.
As if choreographed, the others turned as one to examine the hole I’d made.
And when their backs were turned, Brewer caught my eye and gave me the briefest, smallest wink.
My heart pounded like I’d just finished the treadmill sprints at Barry’s Bootcamp.
“Huh,” Hen said, turning back to us with an approving smile. “Pretty deep space you uncovered, boys. Looks like it was a jam cupboard, once upon a time.”
I tried to focus on the conversation and not the possible interpretations of that wink. “Jam cupboard?” I repeated. “What’s a jam cupboard?”
“Just exactly what it sounds like.” Hen stroked his mustache. “Lotsa houses around here have these odd little nooks and crannies that were once used for storage. In more recent years, some folks walled ’em off ’cause they decided they’d rather have a nice long, unbroken run of cabinets and countertops.” He shrugged. “But I always did love a jam cupboard, myself.”
“Hey, look! There’s stuff in here. Old newspapers, looks like,” Kel said excitedly.
Janice clasped her thermos to her chest excitedly. “Oh, this could be just like thatNational Treasuremovie! Brewer, we can?—”
“I promise you, Janice,” Brewer said in that same no-nonsense voice. “I’ve found plenty of hidden nooks over the years, and not one of them has led to a secret underground city made of gold. If this one does, the Council for Historical Happenings will be the first folks we call.”
Janice sighed dejectedly. “I suppose you’re right. As usual.”
I snorted and tried to cover it with a cough, but the amused look Brewer shot me said he wasn’t fooled.
“There are lots of Coppertians out there who need THWAC’s help this morning,” Janice reminded her crew. “We have a sacred duty. But first…” She brandished the thermos yet again. “Coffee?”
I desperately wanted coffee, but I was even more desperate to talk to Brewer and figure out what was going on.
“We should let you…” I began, trying to think of a way to say, “Get the hell out,” without sounding rude.
“Yes,” Brewer said, heading for the laundry room and the cups there. “I’d love some.”
Five minutes later, I stood against the wall, nursing my coffee, as Brewer efficiently managed the THWAC invasion.
He ate a croissant and drank coffee but managed to politely evade all their questions about our plans for the kitchen by asking them about the origins of THWAC and volunteering his services for the next storm.
When Janice offered to help him find a new camper, Brewer redirected her, and soon she was talking about some art exhibition she was setting up.
When Hayes asked him over to play video games—after making a snarky comment about the dusty handprint on my/Brewer’s sweatshirt perfectly placed over my ass—Brewer somehow steered the conversation into a discussion of the tournament Hayes and Kel were having without committing to playing video games one way or the other.
He was so freakinggoodat handling them—at being firm but kind, friendly but not too friendly—I wondered if they even realized how little information he gave them.
And I wonderedwhy.
Twenty minutes later, he had them all bundled back into their rainbow snow gear and stood beside me at the door, waving them off to tackle other unsuspecting driveways. As the door closed behind them, I let out a breath I felt like I’d been holding since the doorbell first rang.
“Well,” I said, turning to him, “I guess we should probably?—”
But Brewer was already moving back toward the kitchen.
“Get this cleaned up?” he called over his shoulder. “On it. You probably have your own work to do, huh?”
I frowned. “Yes. Always. But I can help you first,” I said, trailing behind him. “I was the one who caused the damage, after all?—”
Brewer stopped and turned, forcing me to stop, too. “Hauling out cabinets is a one-man job.” He gave me a stilted smile. “Why don’t you grab a shower? Not sure when the power came back, but I’ll bet the water heater’s kicked back on, too.”
This felt like a dismissal, and it stung more than it should have.
