“Alice heard it from Griffin, who saw Stella the other night,” Jackson explained. “Apparently, she’s doing some work at your place?”
“Oh.” Aidan paused at the mention, remembering their awkward scene the other night. “I didn’t realize they were friends.”
Jackson smirked. “They’re all friends here. Just try not to piss Stella off,” he added, warning. “She’s the only decent plumber in town.”
“Why would I annoy her?” Aidan asked.
“Because I know you, and you do have a habit of being… a little cool with people.” Jackson said.
“I’m professional.” Aidan frowned.
“Uh huh. If that’s what you want to call it. Just make sure your professionalism doesn’t leave you with a blocked sewer line and nobody to fix it.”
But that wasn’t the problem with Stella. No, it was the opposite. Aidan was trying so hard to play it cool around her, he could barely get his words out the other day. Because panting after Stella Hartley was a recipe for disaster – as any teenage boy on the Cape could have told him, fifteen years ago. And now that he knew exactly how good her kisses tasted…
Well, it turned out Aidan was older, but not one scrap wiser.
“I’m guessing this wasn’t what you had in mind for you big, relaxing vacation,” Jackson joked, as they began dragging things out of the garage. It was so jam packed full of stuff, Aidan would bet his grandpa hadn’t cleared it out in years.
Sure enough, when he checked a newspaper that was stacked on the floor, he saw the date of the last time anyone had ventured in. “May sixteenth, nineteen-eighty-two!”
Jackson snorted. “I wouldn’t be surprised if we found a couple of bodies back here, too.”
Aidan smiled. “County inspectors who interfered in his business?”
“Or an unlucky door-to-door salesman.” Jackson agreed, rolling up his sleeves. “Come on, let’s get this damn boat out. I promised Alice I’d help set up for the festival at noon.”
Thirty minutes of lifting, stacking, and hauling later, Aidan was breaking a sweat, but they’d cleared enough space for the boat to get hooked to the back of his car and wheeled out into the open air.
Jackson let out a whistle. “Damn, she’s a beauty.”
Aidan blinked. Were they looking at the same thing? The wooden hull was almost twenty feet long and rotting clean away in places, the mast had long since snapped off, and the whole thing was coated in a thick layer of dust and grime. “Why are we keeping this thing around?” he asked. “I should tow it straight to the nearest junkyard, and beg them to take it off our hands.”
“Are you kidding?” Earl joined them in time to hear Aidan’s comments. “That thing was my father’s, he built it himself, the summer of ‘62. They don’t make ‘em like that anymore.”
“Rotting, with termites and rats?” Aidan asked, dubious, but his grandpa just smiled.
“It just needs some fixing up, that’s all. You should give it a try,” he added. “Keep those hands busy during your break.”
“Sure.” Aidan replied, dead-pan. “I’ll just roll up my sleeves and get to it.” He shook his head. “I don’t know how long I can keep it at my place,” he warned. “I’m not sure when I’m heading back to the city.”
“Always in such a hurry,” Earl said, patting his shoulder. “It’ll do you good to slow things down.”
Aidan went to check the tow connection. “We should have used Luke’s truck,” he said, locking it in place. Between the heavy lifting and the warm weather, he was sweating through his button-down shirt.
“He’s off on a job,” Earl replied cheerfully. “You’re the only one at a loose end.”
Aidan didn’t need reminding.
“I better get back then,” he lied, not wanting another inquisition about the state of his life.
“Wait a sec, I have something for you.” His grandpa headed back into the house, and then reappeared with an envelope.
Aidan took it, and looked at the contents. It was a dozen of the checks he’d sent – uncashed. “Grandpa—” he began to protest. He’d been sending money since Earl’s stroke, just in case he needed a little help. Lord knew the man was too proud to say anything. But apparently, his stubbornness hadn’t taken a hit.
“It was sweet of you to send them, but I’m doing just fine.” Earl said firmly. “I have my pension, and a little nest egg put aside.”
“I know, but things can crop up,” Aidan pointed out.
“And if they do, well, I can just call on you all.” Earl gave a smug grin. “Since you’re all close enough to holler now.”
Aidan sighed reluctantly, but he tucked the envelope away. “I’ve half a mind you planned it this way,” he said, giving his grandpa an affectionate look. “Having them all at your beck and call. I bet you don’t lift a finger these days.”
Earl grinned wider. “I certainly won’t argue with that. But I’d say I’ve earned it, don’t you?”
Aidan smiled. Earl could be gruff and stubborn sometimes, but he had a heart of gold. Aidan could remember summers growing up, when the noise and chaos of his siblings got too much, his grandpa would take him out fishing for the day, just the two of them sitting in companionable silence for hours at a time. They never caught a single fish, but that wasn’t the point.
Aidan looked at the dusty, rotting boat with new eyes. “Is this the one we used to take out fishing?” he asked, remembering the days out on the water, armed with just a tackle box and a brown bag lunch.
“Yes, she is.” Earl said, reaching up to pat the splintered hull. “I should have taken better care, but after your grandmother passed…” he trailed off. “Anyway, I always thought I’d fix her up one day, but I guess it’s up to one of you to restore her to her former glory.”
“Is that a hint?” Aidan asked, shooting him a sideways glance. Earl could be sneaky sometimes, and you never knew when he was steering you in exactly the direction he wanted you to go.
“Me? Hint?” Earl raised an eyebrow. “Now what do you take me for? I’m just an old man, looking to pass on some memories to his grandkids.”
Aidan chuckled. “Cut the act, old man,” he said, grinning. “I’m storing it, but that’s about all the promises I’ll make.”
“Suit yourself. As long as you buy me a beer to make up for it, at the festival tonight,” Earl said, and Aidan had to laugh.
“Cranberry-flavored beer?” Aidan asked, only half-kidding.
Earl patted his shoulder. “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em… Besides, what else have you got planned?”
Aidan drove the boat back to his place, and unloaded it out front; an eyesore against the stark modern house. He wasn’t sure what Earl expected him to do with the thing, but standing there, his grandpa’s question echoed in his mind, taunting.
What was his plan now?
Aidan was used to always having a goal, a schedule, some new brass ring to work towards. Whether it was the best-performing fund on Wall Street that year, or the number of zeroes in his savings account, he always kept his eye on the prize, and worked relentlessly to make it happen; staying up late into the night, and setting his alarm for five AM every morning, snatching work calls in the car, and blowing off social events to log a few extra hours studying reports. He’d always thought it was one of his strengths, to be able to attack his ambitions one by one until they were mastered.