True to Me - Kay Bratt Page 0,25
reached higher and higher. She moved gently forward until she was on her hands and knees, then raised her middle until she was in downward dog.
“Why do I keep finding you in compromising positions?”
She dropped quickly, embarrassed to find Liam standing over her.
“I don’t know. Why do I keep finding you standing over me?” she asked, irritated by his stealthy approach.
He didn’t pick up on the hint to leave her alone. Obvious from the short laugh.
“What are you doing here? I thought you were coming back tomorrow?” She pulled at the tank top she wore, covering the square of cleavage there.
He sat down at the table. “No, I said I’d get you the estimate tomorrow. This is Tuesday. I always come on Tuesday afternoons and help Maria with dinner. I brought the pork.”
“Oh. I guess I could’ve helped.” She stood, wiping her hands together to rid them of invisible dust. Anything to keep from looking at him.
“She hasn’t started yet, so she’ll welcome that, I’m sure,” he said. “There’ll be about sixteen to twenty people coming.”
Her head jerked up at that. “Sixteen to twenty?”
He nodded. “She does it every Tuesday. Friends and family, and whoever in the neighborhood is having a tough time knows they can stop by and feed their kids. Everyone brings a little something and together, it goes a long way.”
Quinn sat down at the table. “That’s really . . . admirable.”
He shrugged. “It’s not about that. It’s just the way it’s done here. My mother does the same thing on Sundays. Maria, Kupuna, and the kids usually come. They weren’t there last week. I think that’s because of what’s going on here.”
Her face flamed, but she wouldn’t let him get away with making her feel guilty. She lifted her chin. “Look, I didn’t know anything about Maria’s troubles. I just bought a house that was for sale. I paid, and the contracts were signed, fair and square. Everything was legal.”
He paused, scrutinizing her before continuing. “I’m not judging you, Quinn. I’m just telling you the facts.”
Now she really did feel guilty. There was no judgment in his eyes. Only compassion for the family. “Sorry. I’m a bit defensive. This has put me in a bad position, but I still don’t like seeing a woman as nice as Maria going through something like this.”
“It’s a sad situation,” he said.
“Do you have any idea why her husband left?”
“I’d be the last one to try to understand what goes on between a husband and wife behind closed doors. And I’m not one for gossiping. They call that the ‘coconut wireless’ around here.” He smiled lightly. “I leave that to others who are better at it than me.”
“Oh, I wasn’t asking for gossip,” Quinn said. “I just wish there was some way I could help Maria.”
“You’re doing that now,” he replied. “Most mainlanders would’ve kicked her out the day they got here to claim their property. You’re giving her some time to figure out what to do. The whole family is talking it over, though resources are scarce for everyone.”
They let the silence fall around them for a moment.
He looked up, his expression changing. “Oh, I also wanted to tell you that Maria showed me some old hurricane shutters in the attic. She said she’d forgotten about them. I think they’ll look nice cleaned up.”
Quinn felt a rush of excitement. Hurricane shutters would really help move the house more toward the beach-cottage look she was envisioning.
“I’d like that,” she said.
“Good. Maria was hoping you’d say that. She’s wanted them back up for years. It’ll be easy. We just have to clean them, then sand them down and paint them a soft shade of white. With a little work, they’ll be good to go.”
“Thanks.” Quinn could see the list getting longer and the money adding up. She hoped he wouldn’t charge too much for adding the shutters on. She still had a healthy balance from the inheritance, but beyond what she’d allotted for remodeling issues, she considered the balance her nest egg, or her just-in-case money. Just in case of what, she wasn’t sure yet.
“No problem,” he said. “Want to talk story?”
“Talk story?”
He laughed. “Sorry, I forgot you’re new here. Talking story just means we share something about ourselves. Our family. Our life.”
She felt herself tense. That was an abrupt turn. Too abrupt, actually.
“It’s complicated.” She fidgeted with her toes against the leg of the table.
He shrugged. “I get it. You’re guarding your privacy, and that’s good. If you want to