Second Wind (Cypress Coast Book 1) Read online

  “You look more relaxed today.” Melody handed the menu back to the waiter after ordering a Cobb salad and iced tea. “I take it you haven’t heard from your ex.”

  “No, and I hope I don’t. So far, the new phone seems to be doing the trick.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. I hope things stay quiet.”

  Their drinks arrived, and Melody took a sip of her tea. “So, tell me, what else is going on in your life?”

  Laurel filled her in on the new apartment. “I know it will be a lot of work, but I’m excited. I had roommates during college and up until I moved in with Richard. This will be the first time I’ve lived in my own space.”

  “I wish I could come over tomorrow and help, but I’m on duty.”

  Laurel nodded. “I have to work tomorrow, too, but on Sunday I’ll be swinging a hammer, manning a broom, or whatever job Rafael assigns me. I came into the gallery on Monday this week so Victor could show me the ropes, but my regular days off will be Sunday and Monday.”

  Melody leaned back to allow the server room to deliver her food. “A former studio seems like the perfect place for an artist like you. Will you be able to work there, too?”

  Laurel smiled at the waiter as he served her roasted veggie sandwich. “It’s too small, and it wouldn’t be safe. I need a space with a concrete floor that’s big enough for welding equipment and, hopefully someday, a small, free-standing forge. I don’t want to burn the place down.”

  “I guess not, although I have trouble visualizing you in a welding mask with a blowtorch in your hand.”

  Laurel chuckled. “And don’t forget the apron. Suited up, I look like a cross between a mad scientist and a member of the bomb squad. I won’t need all that at first, since I plan to start with copper, which requires much less equipment, but I’m trying to be optimistic and want to have room to grow. As soon as I find a studio space and get set up, you’ll have to stop by.”

  “Sounds like fun. In the meantime, how are things going at work?”

  “Good…I think. I actually sold a painting yesterday. I’ll feel better when traffic picks up. I don’t know what I’ll do if Victor decides he can’t afford to keep me.”

  Melody attacked her salad with her fork, spearing lettuce, chicken, and a cube of avocado. “I wouldn’t worry about it. Victor’s a bit of a character, but deep down, he’s a sweetheart. Besides, I get the feeling he’s either independently wealthy or has another source of income in addition to the gallery. He never seems to have many customers, but he and Martin live in a quaint—and very pricey—cottage on one of the best streets in town and have enough money for regular junkets to Vegas.”

  Laurel considered the pair’s elegant and expensive lord-of-the-manor style clothes and fussy mannerisms. “That’s surprising. They don’t seem like the Vegas type to me.”

  Melody laughed. “Oh, they’re notorious. And they must be lucky. After each trip, new merchandise appears in the gallery and antique shop.”

  “Then I’d better get busy and sell more paintings. I don’t know where we’d put new pieces at the moment. The back rooms are so crowded, you can barely get to the desk.”

  After they finished eating, she and Melody parted ways with a hug and plans for a regular lunch date on Fridays. A brisk breeze was blowing off the ocean, and the sun darted in and out between scuttling gray clouds as Laurel headed down the sidewalk toward the gallery. When she crossed the courtyard and skirted the pair of masons repairing the fountain, she noticed the back of a male figure with longish, straight black hair, dressed in a stylishly tailored overcoat, disappear through the doorway of Gallery St. James. Something about his posture and build seemed familiar, but she couldn’t place him. He was probably just one of those people who remind you of someone else.

  She expected to find the man browsing the collection when she entered the gallery, but he was nowhere in sight. A quick peek into each of the smaller display rooms failed to turn up any sign of the visitor, either. As she entered the storeroom to hang up her coat, she noticed Victor’s office door was closed for the first time since she’d started working for him, and low male voices emanated from behind it.

  They must be having a meeting. Perhaps the man was a well-heeled private client or someone looking to consign an expensive piece. At any rate, his business had nothing to do with her. She was just a lowly sales associate. And as such, her job was to get back to the sales floor and sell something.

  Victor never reappeared, and when six o’clock rolled around, his office door was still closed. Laurel weighed whether or not to knock and let him know she was leaving but decided against it. Instead, she left the lights on and locked the front door on her way out.

  On the walk back to her car, she almost remembered who Victor’s mystery client reminded her of, but her synapses stubbornly refused to complete the connection. It was maddening, like having a word perpetually on the tip of your tongue. Maybe if she put it out of her mind, the name would pop into her head unbidden, like an old phone number or the name of one’s third-grade teacher.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The next day was busy, even for a Saturday, with tourists starting to arrive in town for the Thanksgiving holiday. Victor popped in and out during the day, but Laurel was largely on her own to handle the increased foot traffic. The hours whizzed by, and by closing time, her feet were killing her. Still, she was proud of herself for having sold four paintings, as well as figuring out the shipping details to send one of them to the clients’ home in France.

  When she got home, she was so hungry she headed straight to the restaurant without bothering to stop at the house to change clothes. The hostess on duty was the younger sister of one of her high school friends.

  “Hi, Veronica.”

  The young woman smiled and picked up a menu. “Hi, Laurel. I heard you were back in town. Are you joining Sage and Angelica?”

  Laurel glanced over Veronica’s shoulder and spotted her sisters at a table against the windows with three dark-haired men. The men had their backs to her, so she couldn’t tell who they were, but a hint of suspicion tickled the back of her mind. Were they waiting for her? She hadn’t talked to Sage and Angelica about meeting for dinner, but it was a safe bet she would be here tonight. Had her sisters joined Melody in a conspiracy to encourage her to move on after her split from Richard?

  She gave Veronica an uneasy smile. “Um…I guess so.”

  “Great! Follow me.”

  As they neared the table, Angelica waved, and the men turned in their chairs. The oldest was Rafael Fuentes, her mother’s sometime handyman. The younger two carbon copies were his sons, Eduardo and Luis, whom she judged to be in their early twenties. Even though she’d met the pair when they helped clear out the old studio, they glanced at the floor shyly as she shook their hands again.

  Sage snagged a chair from the next table and settled it at the end. “Have a seat. We’ve already ordered, but chips and guacamole are on the way.”

  Laurel slipped out of her coat and draped it over the back of the chair before sitting. “Thanks.”

  Sage signaled the server, who appeared beside Laurel, pad in hand. “What can I get you?”

  “I’ll have the special.” Laurel handed her the menu with a smile. It didn’t matter what the special was. Her mother rarely came up with a dish she didn’t like.

  Angelica leaned across the table and scooped up a big glob of guac with a homemade tortilla chip. “We were just talking about your new apartment. Sage and I both had to work today, but we’re planning to come over in the morning to help.”

  Rafael nodded. “The boys and I finished the demo today, as well as prepping for the bathroom and kitchen, but we’ll have plenty of work for you ladies tomorrow.” He glanced at Laurel. “I have some materials for you to look at and make a couple of choices before we proceed.”

  She almost choked up at the kindness in his dark brown eyes. “I can’t thank you enough for taking on this project.”

  “It is my pleasure. Ros
emary is so happy to have you home, and it makes me happy to see her smile.”

  The emotion that flared in his eyes when he mentioned her mother’s name caught Laurel off-guard and reminded her how long she’d been away. She shot a quick glance at his left hand. No wedding ring. Was it possible this man had feelings for her mother? Did she reciprocate them? It was a sobering thought. Even though her mother had been widowed for fifteen years, Laurel couldn’t imagine anyone taking her father’s place. But Rafael seemed like a nice man, and she was grateful for his help with her new apartment.

  The food arrived, along with a pitcher of beer and several glasses. Laurel stuck with water but enjoyed watching Eduardo and Luis become chattier and flirtier with every sip. They might still need a little false courage to bolster their confidence with women, but both young men were darkly handsome and destined to become real charmers as soon as they overcame their youthful shyness.

  Dinner conversation centered around the work planned for tomorrow and included phrases like “p-traps,” “stud finders,” and “circuit testers.” Angelica and Sage volunteered to sand and paint the used cabinets Rafael had found for the kitchenette and bathroom, and Laurel offered to help with the plumbing rough-ins.

  After dinner the group split up, and Laurel headed home. Rufus met her at the door with a swish of his cone and a demanding yowl. “Don’t try to tell me you’re starving. I know you’ve had plenty to eat. Are you lonely, buddy?”

  He followed her into the kitchen, complaining all the way. She added food and water to his bowls then made her way upstairs to her bedroom with Rufus in tow. After changing into soft flannel pants and a sweatshirt, she picked up the cat and carried him back down to the living room. She found a classic noir detective movie on television, stretched out on the sofa, and allowed Rufus to knead and rearrange her until he was satisfied. Then he snuggled up next to her and promptly went to sleep.

  A blissful and languid sense of relaxation spread through her limbs like warm molasses. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so comfortable, both physically and mentally. Who needed a man when they had flannel pants and a warm cat?

  The next morning, before heading over to the garage apartment, she rewarded Rufus with a handful of liver treats. They might be stinky, but he loved them. While he munched, she knelt and rubbed one of his favorite spots—his back right above his hips. “One day soon, this cone can come off. Now be good, and I’ll see you later.”

  He answered by flicking the tip of his tail then turned and sauntered toward the sofa.

  Rafael and his sons were already at work when Laurel arrived, and Sage and Angelica showed up a few minutes later. The first-floor garage had been staged for cabinet refinishing, with newspapers taped to the concrete floor and a collection of battered yellow cabinets set up on small blocks of wood. Sanding supplies and a paint sprayer sat beside a five-gallon plastic bucket.

  Angelica pulled on a pair of work gloves, then picked up an electric belt sander and gave it a couple of experimental revs. “Don’t worry. A couple of coats of white paint and some new knobs, and these will look like a picture from a magazine.”

  Laurel smiled and dipped her chin. “I bow to your superior knowledge.”

  Rafael walked over and clapped a hand on her shoulder. “So, are you ready to solder some pipes?”

  “Absolutely.” She followed him out of the garage and up the exterior stairs to her soon-to-be apartment. Painting might not be her thing, but she was a whiz with a propane torch—a benefit of being a metal sculptor.

  When they stepped into the space, excitement rippled through her. All the junk was gone. The tiny half-bath with its nasty old fixtures had disappeared, and Eduardo and Luis had nearly finished framing a new, larger, and fully functional bathroom in its place. A new toilet sat proudly in the middle of the main room, waiting to be installed.

  Rafael ran one hand down a fresh two-by-four stud. “To make the plumbing quicker, easier, and cheaper, I thought we’d put the kitchen on the other side of this wall.”

  Laurel nodded. “I’m all for quicker, easier, and cheaper.”

  “And for the same reason, we’re sticking with the original copper pipes rather than re-plumb the whole place in PVC.”

  “That makes sense. Where do you want me to start?”

  “How about with the rough-in for the kitchen sink? If you try to squeeze into the bathroom while the boys are working in there, somebody’s likely to get stepped on.”

  He showed her a small collection of copper pipes and fittings, along with the hand-held torch and solder, then handed her a piece of lined paper torn from a notebook with a detailed pencil drawing. “This is what you need to do. The original supply lines are stubbed off inside the wall. Just ask me if you have questions. I’ll be around working on updating the wiring.”

  “Great. Thanks!”

  Laurel knelt beside the wall that would soon house her new kitchenette and counted and sorted the copper elbows as she studied the schematic. It didn’t look too hard, if she paid attention and took things slowly.

  A couple of hours later, she had finished the water pipes and was measuring the new vent stack that would go up and out through the roof when Rafael walked over.

  He checked her work with a critical eye and nodded. “Looking good. The boys and I are getting ready to take a break. You should join us. Your mom sent over a plate of cinnamon rolls.”

  That explained the mouth-watering aroma she’d been smelling for the past few minutes. She’d begun to think the solder fumes were making her delirious. “I will, but I want to finish this first.”

  Rafael straightened. “Okay. We’ll be downstairs with your sisters. Come down when you’re ready.”

  Laurel nodded and returned to her task. After cutting the pipe to length, she drilled a hole in the two-by-four bottom plate with a hole saw. Then she climbed a step ladder and prepared to do the same to the top plate. Suddenly, the smell of cinnamon rolls grew so strong it made her stomach rumble.

  “Hey, Laurel.”

  At the sound of her name, she turned so fast one foot slipped. As her hands groped wildly for the ladder, the drill fell from her fingers and clattered to the floor. She turned her furious gaze on the intruder, and her father’s favorite expletive slipped from her lips.

  Jake Carlson grinned up at her. At least he was sensibly dressed today. She’d begun to think he spent every minute outside the office in shorts. This morning he wore work boots, jeans, and a long-sleeved maroon T-shirt that read University of Minnesota in faded gold letters. He hadn’t shaved, and the sandy stubble along his jaw gave him a disturbingly rugged look.

  She wanted to punch him straight in the M.

  ****

  Jake couldn’t help smiling at the fury on Laurel’s face, but it was probably a good thing she no longer held a potentially dangerous power tool. “Sorry for startling you.” He held two paper cups in one hand and a plate of pastries in the other. “I brought you a cup of coffee and a couple cinnamon rolls.”

  She clambered down the ladder, still glaring. “What are you doing here?”

  “I stopped by to help out.” He turned in a circle, surveying the place. “Nice space. It has good light and an incredible view.”

  She picked up the fallen drill and examined the hole saw blade for damage before facing him. “True, but that doesn’t explain how you knew about it.”

  “I saw your mom this morning when I came into the restaurant for breakfast, and she mentioned you were working here today. I’m pretty handy with a hammer, so I thought I’d offer my services.”

  He didn’t mention he’d also spent the past week running checks on Seattle art investment firms and galleries, looking for any possible connection to Victor St. James or to the ongoing FBI money-laundering investigation. With luck, he might be able to coax more information from Laurel if her guard was down.

  She raised one brow. “A hammering accountant? How handy.”

  So much for her guard being d
own. He’d have to work a little harder to put her at ease.

  He smiled. “That’s right. Now, how about some coffee and a roll?” He waved them in front of her nose with an enticing flourish.

  “Sure.” She took the cup and roll and perched on the second step of the ladder she’d just vacated.

  Jake looked around for another seat and settled for an upturned, five-gallon orange paint bucket. He took a bite of his roll and washed it down with a big swig of coffee. “Your mom’s cinnamon rolls might be even better than her carrot cake.”

  After substantial doses of calories and caffeine, Laurel’s stiff posture relaxed. His peace offering seemed to be doing its job.

  She nodded. “They are good. Thanks for bringing me this. Plumbing is hungry work.”

  “No problem. How’s the new job going?” He took another bite.

  “It’s good. We had a little excitement the other evening when a lady drove into the fountain in front of the building, but otherwise, things have been pretty quiet. Traffic should pick up this week with all the tourists in town for the holiday.”

  “Are most of your customers tourists?”

  “The ones I’ve met have been, some from as far away as Sweden and Australia.”

  “That must be interesting. What do you think of your new boss…and his partner?”

  Her gaze sharpened with a hint of suspicion. “I like them both, and Victor has been very nice to me. Why?”

  Jake gave a non-committal shrug. “Nothing. I just wondered. They’re a colorful pair.”

  “Do you know them?”

  He hesitated. “Not personally, but I’ve heard a lot about them. I’d like to meet them sometime.”

  She studied him for a moment, but her expression gave no hint of what she was thinking. “If you’re in Carmel, you should stop by the gallery, and I’ll introduce you.”