Secrets Whispered from the Sea - Emma St. Clair Page 0,32

he called the shiplap I had picked for the proposal “trite and overdone.” I’d happily help him get up close and personal with a piece of shiplap.

Except I was supposed to be helping calm Tommy, not getting myself riled up.

But the more I thought about that meeting, the angrier I got. I had no idea that the Crud weighed in on such small details. I thought maybe it was things like the color of the outside of the house or how many stories it could be.

Nope. Alec had not been the only one to weigh in on every aspect of the design plan from the flooring to the new windows, though he was the most outspoken. And insulting. He hated almost everything. And forget about the addition of more decking outside, leading up to a crow’s nest higher than the roof. So many historic homes on Sandover had those, but apparently mine could not.

Emily had surprised me with that detail, which felt like a gift. She’d whispered to me just before the meeting started that even if I couldn’t afford it—realistically, I probably couldn’t—it was better to bring everything to be approved at once. It made me feel funny things in my heart, the thoughtfulness and care in that gesture.

I could picture Nana’s cottage with the wooden structure up top, finally giving her house that ocean view. Or, it would have if the committee hadn’t decidedly said no. No to everything, except for the idea to lower the kitchen island to one height, rather than having the bar stools at a higher level. Emily told me that it helped with the sightlines, and I agreed. We had that tiny win.

I put my hand on Tommy’s chest, pushing him back slightly with my palm.

“Tommy,” I said. “Hey, big guy. Let’s just go.”

His eyes narrowed on Alec, who had paused on the other side of Emily, shoving his hands in his pockets. He looked unruffled, like it was not at all out of the ordinary to have a big, beefy man come after him in the hallway after a meeting like that. With the way Alec behaved every time I saw him, it wouldn’t surprise me if he did end up in this situation a lot. He shot me a withering look.

What the heck did I do to the man?

Tommy nodded to me, and I could feel the moment the fight drained out of him. “Right. Let’s go home.”

And then, as though it was his signature move, Alec got in one last word.

“Next time, just come with plans that don’t look like a five-year-old designed them.”

No. He. Did. Not.

Emily, as though sensing the danger, spread her arms out wide like she could block Tommy. The security guard shouted and jogged over, the keys jangling on his belt.

Voices were raised.

Insults were hurled.

Mistakes were made.

“But no one got arrested.” I said to Ann on my drive home, wishing she would see the words for what they were: a miracle.

Alec seemed to want to be punched in the face, really, he did. That was the only explanation I could come up with for why he wouldn’t stop talking.

I could almost feel Ann’s irritation through the phone. “Again, let’s just list it as is. They can renovate on their dime or build something else on the lot.”

“No,” I said, somewhat shocked by the ease with which that word came out of my mouth.

“No?”

“No. I don’t want to think about Nana’s house being torn down. I can’t. Emily feels confident that if Jackson can talk to Alec—”

“This is going to take too long,” Ann said. “We’ll have the money sooner if we list it now. Then you can move on and not worry about all this responsibility.”

Both parts of that last sentence hit me right in the gut. So, Ann wanted me to hurry up and move on and she didn’t think I was able to handle the responsibility. Fine. She threw down a challenge with those words, whether she meant to or not.

“Nana left me in charge. I’ll decide.” And I was back to being that annoying little sister.

“You’re being ridiculous.”

And you’re acting desperate. Maybe it was a little ridiculous, but I found myself unwilling to allow for the possibility that the house could be torn down. I didn’t want to think about a mini mansion like Ann’s house on top of the plot where Nana had lived. I couldn’t think about it. I wouldn’t. And the more Ann pushed, the more I dug in my