Hank sat back in the chair, dumbfounded. When Jackson had arrived earlier, he’d never anticipated this conversation. Run the business for a couple of months? Could he do it? He wouldn’t mind the pay upgrade or help with his mom, and this wouldn’t be charity, either. “You need to hire at least one new carpenter before you go.”
Jackson smiled. “I know. I’ll take care of that, but you should meet with the prospective candidates, too. I mean, if you’re willing to help me out. I know I don’t deserve it, considering how I ignored your warnings.”
“I’m glad you’re stepping back. I can probably get you through the existing projects, but don’t count on me to actively seek out new ones. I don’t know enough about bidding work to feel comfortable with that responsibility.”
“Deal.” Jackson stuck out his hand.
Hank stood to shake Jackson’s hand, but Jackson yanked him into a man hug and slapped his back. “Thanks, man. I’d hoped you’d say yes.”
“You’re welcome.”
Jackson tilted his head. “So, I’ve got one more task to complete, then I’ll get out of your hair.”
Hank raised a brow and held his breath.
Jackson nodded toward the envelope on the table. “Whatever is in there is from my sister. She asked me to give it to you, and for you to return it ‘when you’re done,’ whatever that means.” Jackson lifted the envelope off the table and handed it to Hank. “I know it’s none of my business, but she seemed damned sad the other night. She’s not as tough as she likes to act. I don’t know what happened with you two, but if you think it can be fixed, try.”
When Hank remained mute, Jackson held up his hands again. “Okay. Don’t answer. Just thought I’d give it a shot. I’ll call you tomorrow and we’ll work out how to transition things before I take off. My goal is to be out of here by October first, if possible.”
“Where are you going?” Hank asked. “Rehab?”
“I’m not sure.” Jackson stopped and looked at the sky. “I’m thinking Vermont. Maybe private counseling, hiking, fishing, and kayaking will give me time to settle my mind and recharge.”
“Good luck with that,” Hank said before Jackson turned, waved, and went to his truck.
Hank leaned his body against the closed door, mulling over Jackson’s remarks about Cat. He’d spent the past two weeks in agony, in large part from regret about the way he’d handled their situation, the things he’d said to her in Chicago.
Sitting back on the sofa, he tore open the envelope, half expecting it to be the legal documents necessary to dissolve their short-lived company. Instead her diary landed on his lap with a thud.
Stunned, he turned it over, remembering the first time he’d seen it in her room at Block Island earlier this summer, when she’d been so drunk all her defenses had fled and she’d asked him to stay.
His heart thumped hard in his chest. The most guarded woman he knew had just handed him her most private thoughts. He stared at it, rubbing the soft leather with one hand. The trust she’d just thrust into his lap humbled him beyond words. So much so, he almost didn’t want to invade her privacy by reading it. Almost.
Before he opened the journal, he decided not to read any entries that preceded the wedding weekend. Whatever had happened before that had no relevance to everything that had occurred since.
Resolved, he opened the book and flipped to the weekend of June 11 and began reading.
Hank approached Cat’s apartment door with a dry mouth and nervous stomach. Too late he remembered it was Sunday. She’d be going to Esther’s this afternoon. Maybe she was already there.
He should’ve called before coming, but he didn’t want to risk her shying away.
He blew out a breath and straightened his shoulders before knocking. He licked his lips and stared at the door. Nothing. He raised his hand to knock again but she suddenly opened the door.
“Hank.” Her eyes widened. “What are you doing here?”
“Can I come in?” Her beauty had always kicked his knees out from under him, but today all he saw were shadows of sorrow dimming her face. When he held up her diary, her lips parted with a slight gasp.
“Of course.” She took it from him and stepped back, granting him entry. Her gaze rested on his splint. “I’m sorry about your injury. How’s your wrist?”
“I won’t know for a few months.” He extended the splinted arm. “I’ll start therapy soon, then we’ll see.”
“What about your mom?” Her brows pinched together in concern. “How will you manage?”