The Man Must Marry(39)

"You're just better at that sort of thing, Willamina."

"Maybe Abram's death is just now hitting him. Maybe he's simply   mourning. Remember how you were when Gretchen passed? Sorrow hits   everyone differently, and how long it takes to work through it is up to   the individual. Abram was like a father to Sam."

Another heavy sigh came over the phone line. "You're probably right.   He's likely just realizing that he and his brothers are completely alone   in the world now."

"You might suggest he stop going to the coffee shop," Willa said. "They   probably keep mentioning Abram, and that will keep depressing Sam."

"I'll do that," Emmett said. "I'm sorry about the RoseWind , Willy. But   truth be told, I couldn't wait to get my hands on her again. She was my   last, you know?"

"I know, Em, and it's okay. Um … is Sam home?"

"He left about an hour ago and told me not to wait dinner for him." He   snorted. "Not that I ever do. I usually just help myself to one of the   many doggie bags he keeps sticking in the fridge."

She covered her mouth to stifle a yawn. "Okay, I'd better get on home   and see what Peg's put in my own fridge. Tomorrow's Saturday. I'll come   over and work on the RoseWind with you, if you'd like."

"I'd like that. It's been a few years since we've worked side by side."

"'Bye, Em," she said. She shut off the light again and gazed across the dark room at nothing. Emmett thought Sam was depressed?

His weight gain would make sense if that was the case. After her parents   died and she lost the baby, she'd started feeding the emptiness inside   her with whatever food she could get her hands on. She'd gained twelve   pounds that year, and that had been the beginning of the end for her  and  David. A year later, she began to suspect he was cheating on her,  and  she'd gained another ten pounds. Looking back, Willa could see  she'd  unconsciously been driving David away, probably because he was as   emotionally supportive as seaweed.

She stood up and walked out of her office, giving the bronze whale   statue a pat. Nearly two weeks had gone by, and she wasn't any closer to   finding a solution to Abram's bequest. If anything, she had  unwittingly  added one more problem to her growing list. Barry Cobb was  not only so  full of himself he bored her to tears, he was becoming a  pest.                       
       
           



       

Willa pulled up beside Sam's rental car, shut off the engine, and stared   at the lighted windows of her cottage in dismay. Great. Just what she   needed, a depressed man dropping by to depress her . She looked toward   the main house, figuring there was probably food up there. But there  was  alsoShelby and Jennifer and their killer glares. Peg wasn't a  glarer;  she just banged pot lids around whenever Barry Cobb's name came  up.

Willa looked back at her cottage, trying to decide which way lay the   lesser evil. She was actually surprised, but she sort of missed Sam. At   least, with him, she could glare right back without feeling guilty,   because he wasn't going through a divorce.

But he was mourning Abram.

God, she wished Emmett hadn't dry-docked the RoseWind . She could be sailing toward the Bermuda Triangle right now.

Willa got out of her pickup and mounted the porch steps, thinking it was   kind of nice coming home to a house that wasn't empty. She perked up a   bit. Maybe Sam had brought food. She'd even settle for a

doggie bag from one of his restaurant excursions.

She opened the door and immediately saw that the table was empty except   for a small stack of mail. Sam hadn't even brought her flowers to   apologize for avoiding her for two whole weeks. Bummer.

"Over here," he said from the corner of the room. "Wash up, and come sit down. I hope you're hungry."

Her spirits rose with renewed hope. "What are we having?" she asked, shedding her coat as she went to the sink.

"Roasted hot dogs, potato salad, and S'mores for dessert. I also found a   campfire popcorn popper at the hardware store, but we'll save that for   later."

Later? Willa glanced over her shoulder in time to see him add a log to the fire he'd built in the antique parlor woodstove.

Hot dogs? He's been dining at every damn restaurant in the county, and   he feeds me hot dogs and S'mores?She wiped her hands and went to sit on   the love seat facing the woodstove. Sam pulled her down onto the floor   beside him. "You can't reach the fire from up there. The sticks aren't   long enough."

"I have to cook my own dinner?"

He handed her a forked twig with a hot dog skewered on the end of it.   "Cooking the dogs is the best part. If you do it just right, they plump   up and get juicy."

Willa shoved her hot dog into the fire.

Sam immediately took hold of her hand, raising it until her hot dog was   above the flame. "It's already dead. And cooked," he drawled. "You just   need to sear the skin."

"It's a hot dog, not filet mignon," she said, lowering it back into the   flames when he let go. "And I like mine burnt on the outside, so it   splits open."

"Is it okay if I don't turn the rolls into charcoal?" he asked with a   chuckle, sliding two buns onto another stick that had wider-set   branches. He'd very neatly whittled the bark off the ends.

"You've put a lot of time into preparing this picnic."

"After almost poking my eye out, I decided your maple tree could use a   pruning. That's when I got the idea for hot dogs." He held the rolls in   front of the fire, close to the embers. "Bram and Grammy Rose used to   take us boys up to theAdirondacks every summer after we came to live   with them. It was just the five of us-no staff, no chauffeur, no cook.   We'd fly up, and Bram had a big old rusted van he kept at the airport.   We'd transfer all our gear into it and pile in, then drive to the   ricketiest old cabin you've ever seen."

He turned the rolls over to toast the other side. "Grammy would assign   us each a chore on the way to the cabin. My job was usually spider   eradication. Ben had to lug firewood, and Jesse always helped Bram drag   the old fishing boat down to the water to see if it was still   seaworthy."

He glanced over at her, then back at the rolls. "We didn't have an   outboard motor, just oars. It took a full week for our blisters to heal,   but by the end of the summer, we all had thick calluses." He shook his   head. "No electricity, no running water, and an outhouse that still   gives me nightmares."

"How come Abram didn't update the cabin?"

"If we'd had all the modern conveniences, we might as well have stayed   home. We were roughing it, and those summers were the best times of our   lives after our parents died."

Willa jumped when her hot dog exploded and fell off the stick into the   fire. Without saying a word, Sam shoved another hot dog onto the charred   tines, then held it over the flames.

"We tried going to the cabin the summer after Grammy died, but we only   stayed a few days. It just wasn't the same." He glanced at her. "I guess   you own the cabin now."                       
       
           



       

Willa took a shuddering breath and looked down at her lap. Depression was contagious.

"Levi fired me yesterday."

"He did? Why?"

Sam turned her hot dog over and lowered it to start burning the skin.   "He claims I'm all thumbs when it comes to working with power tools. But   I think it's because he found out I've been going to the coffee shop   most mornings."

She started filling the toasted rolls with ketchup and relish and mustard. "What makes you think that's why he fired you?"

Sam slid her hot dog into one of the rolls, then put another one on the stick and held it over the flames.

"Keelstone Cove is in the middle of a geriatric gang war."

"A what ?"

"There's the Grand Point Bluff gang and the coffee club gang, and they went to war when Bram died."

"Oh for the love of-these are civilized people, Sam, not gang members."

"No, it's the away people versus the locals . Most of your workers   retired here fromNew York andBoston , didn't they? It's also the haves   against the have nots . The coffee clubbers think the Grand Pointers   throw their money around like confetti."

"Your grandfather went to that coffee shop and he was friends with my   workers. And he was from away and rich. So how come the coffee clubbers   let him into their club?" She eyed him suspiciously. "For that matter,   how come they let you in? Not only are you rich and from away, but   you're not even old enough to be a member."