"Have you even asked Phil and Doris if they want jobs?"
"Of course. They're quite excited about it. Sean Graves knows of an old warehouse over in Prime Point we can buy and renovate," he said, going to work on the wire again. Willa stopped him again. "Sam, does this have anything to do with Abram's dying? Have you considered that you might be missing your grandfather and have substituted the coffee clubbers for him?"
He sat on the love seat and frowned up at her. "Why was it a good idea for you but not for me? Why shouldn't I open a business?"
She sat beside him, resting her hand on his knee. "You're not yourself right now, Sam. You've suddenly been cast adrift with no direction or purpose. You've lost Abram, your home, and possibly Tidewater. You're depressed, Sam, and you're trying to fill the void in your life with food and … and with being needed."
"That's it exactly," he said, covering her hand with his. "Not the depressed part but the purpose part. Bram needed me, and I wasn't there for him. I should have seen his health was failing, but he was such a tough old bird I assumed he'd live forever. Maybe if I'd been paying better attention, he'd still be alive."
"You can't possibly know that. Abram kept his heart condition from you precisely so you wouldn't fuss over him. You have nothing to feel guilty about." She squeezed his hand. "Don't you see, Sam? You can't take Abram's dying as having anything to do with you . Life happens, and so does death, and none of us has a magic wand we can wave to make everything turn out perfect."
"But we can make up for our mistakes. I wasn't there for Bram in the end, but I can be there for someone else. And it feels damn good to be totally focused on helping other people, Willa. It's almost addictive." He raised her hand and kissed her fingers. "Bram might have thought he was doing you a favor by writing that bequest, but it's my eyes he opened."
He suddenly stood up, took the champagne back to the fridge, and walked to the door and grabbed his jacket. "Will you go to dinner with me tomorrow night?"
"What about tonight's dinner?" she asked, motioning toward the woodstove.
"I just realized that I've left Emmett alone a lot lately. I don't think he eats a very balanced diet. I should take him to a place I found in Ellsworth that serves a wonderful dish of broiledMaine scallops, rice, and broccoli florets. Emmett loves scallops. Is tomorrow night good for you?"
Her head spinning, Willa nodded.
"Great. I'll pick you up at six," he said, and left.
Willa stared across the suddenly empty cottage. Emmett had it all wrong. Sam wasn't depressed, he must be on drugs!
He actually thought there was a war going on in Keelstone Cove? And that he could adopt the coffee clubbers for his new family? And move here? Permanently?
As for Emmett, just when had he become Sam's responsibility?
Chapter Eighteen
If Willa had beenasked a week ago what she thought Keelstone Cove's greatest asset was, she would have said unequivocally that it was the town's dynamic senior-citizen population. Just consider the cumulative decades of wisdom the older folks were glad to share, from weather predictions, fishing methods, and recipes to business advice. Ask any of them a simple question, and you'd be treated to a twenty-minute lecture.
Seniors were the backbone of any society.
They were not, however, supposed to start acting like rebellious teenagers-which is exactly what her Grand Point Bluff workers were doing. She stormed into work the very next morning and shot off a memo demanding that everyone older than seventy be in her conference room atten o'clock . Willa sat at the head of the long mahogany table in her office suite and glared at the expensive antique wall clock that Silas had insisted Kent Caskets needed to present an air of success. It was ten-fifteen, and she didn't recognize the lone person sitting four places down on her right.
"You said you just moved into Grand Point Bluff a month ago, Mr. Goodard?" she asked. "And that Silas hired you last week?"
Gary Goodard shot her a nervous smile. "Yes, ma'am. I originally retired toFlorida , but there's so many people down there I couldn't breathe. I explained to Silas I probably should work in sales, considering I used to own a Mercedes dealership, but he told me the only opening you had was in shipping. If this is about that mix-up the other day, I'm really sorry. I don't know why they ever changed the state abbreviation system. I thought AR meantArizona , and that's why I sent those caskets toCedar Creek,Arizona , instead ofCedar Creek,Arkansas . I promise it won't happen again, Miss Kent ."
Willa sighed. "This isn't about the mix-up,Gary , since no one told me about it, anyway. And please, call me Willa. We're very informal here. Do you know if the others got my memo?" It was twenty-five minutes past ten.
"Oh, yes,"Gary said, his expression brightening. "Your secretary hand-delivered it to all the departments. Say, you must know Isobel quite well, since she's your personal secretary. Can you tell me how long she's been widowed?"
"Six or seven years, I believe."
"Would you know if she's seeing anyone?"
Willa sighed again. "I don't believe she is." She stood up. "Nor do I believe anyone else is coming to my meeting, Gary. And since it wasn't about anything involving you, why don't you head back to shipping?
Oh, and welcome to Kent Caskets."
Garyhad stood up when she had, his joints creaking loudly. "Thank you," he said, hobbling toward the door. "I have to say, I love getting up in the morning and having someplace to go again. Retirement's not all it's cracked up to be. I spent so many hours working to make my dealership successful I never acquired any hobbies. It's very community-minded of you to hire older citizens."
"Yes, it seems I've gotten a reputation for being very community-minded."
The door suddenly opened, and Silas, Maureen, and Levi walked in, followed by the rest of her older workers.
"Sorry we're late, Willa," Silas said, pulling out the chair on her right and standing in front of it as the others went to their usual seats. "Isobel just tracked us down. It was such a beautiful day, we decided to go over our last-quarter reports outside at the picnic tables."
"Sorry to pull you away from your important meeting, but I wanted to talk to all of you together," Willa said. She realized that for them to sit down, she had to sit down, so she did. The moment they sat, she stood back up.
"Is this about the new line of pet caskets?" Maureen asked. "I haven't finished the interior patterns, because Levi hasn't given me the measurements yet."
"No, this isn't about our pet line. I've called you here to talk about Sam Sinclair."
"I had to let him go, Willa," Levi said. "The man's all thumbs." He shook his head. "I should have suspected it when he first showed up, considering how beat up he was."
"He was also disruptive," Silas interjected. "He spent more time talking than working. Our production was falling behind."
"That's right," Maureen piped in. "All he had to do was walk through the sewing room, and the younger women got all a-twitter. Carol actually sewed her sleeve to the pillow she was working on." She narrowed her eyes at Willa. "Sam Sinclair is a worse flirt than his grandfather was."
Willa held up her hand. "His firing is not the reason I called this meeting. I want to talk to you about this little … dispute you're having with the coffee clubbers, of which Sam and I seem to be the center." She placed her hands on the table and moved her glare from one person to the next. "Butt out, people. My love life is none of your business. If I ever decide to get married again, I will marry whomever I damn well please." She straightened and pointed her finger at them. "If you don't stop interfering in my life, I will fire every last one of you. Except you, Gary," she quickly amended, "unless I hear that you've fallen in with these outlaws."
She glared around the table again. "Do we understand each other, ladies and gentlemen? And if any of you threaten Sam again, I will call the sheriff."