I’m going to put one of those roll-down awnings out front, too, so people don’t melt at lunch. That sun gets boiling hot in August. Hey, did I hear Remi say he hired a contractor for the house?”
She nodded. “Yes, hopefully, they can get everything done before the first snowfall, which means October.”
Gen nodded. “I think it’s awesome. The work across the street is moving along.”
“I’m surprised, but Jeremiah is over there almost every day helping. Or getting in the way, I’m not sure which. His version and the contractors are polar opposites.”
A soft chuckle filled the air. “Remi has to see how things work. That’s why he’s such a good psychiatrist. He digs until he knows the why of things.”
“I’ve noticed that.” The trait made him dynamic and fun, but melded with his profession, it made him an outstanding provider.
“Hey, just FYI, I’m saying good on you guys for putting in offices and exam rooms for Zeke, too.”
“It only makes sense. Remi has a few clients with the promise of more when the county completes the paperwork. He wants his own space with his own entrance for people to come and go, so we’ll have parking in the rear for them, out of the eyes of wagging tongues. Plus, the county is going to rent the spaces for both of us. It’s a win/win for everyone.”
Gen nodded as she stared out over the distance. “You know, if Jeremiah hadn’t sent everyone away that night, there could have been so many more injuries and—God forbid—even deaths.” Gen leaned back in her chair. “As much as I hate to say it, that crazy man did this town a favor when he showed up. At least to some degree.”
Eden nodded and relaxed against the cushion of the deck chair. She and Jeremiah had discussed the coincidences while they whispered to each other after Gen turned in at night. The woman woke at four every morning, so she was usually in bed asleep by nine. That was the time that Eden and Jeremiah would whisper dreams, hopes, and plans for their future. He hadn’t mentioned marriage, and that was okay with her—for now.
They’d both talked to Jamison about what happened the night the tornado hit. She could see why Jeremiah liked Jamison so much. He was irreverent but caring. Simple questions he posed could stand her on her head and make her see a fresh perspective and way of looking at what happened. She’d moved on from victim to survivor and so had Jeremiah. His fears about being the cause of that man’s death had ridden him hard for a week, until he got his hands on a copy of the autopsy, thanks to Jamison. There were annotations of the wounds Jeremiah had inflicted, but the coroner found they were not the cause of death.
Gen roused her out of her daydreaming when she excused herself to go downstairs, probably to triple-check something she’d already triple-checked. The cafe was her life.
The sun felt good, but it was going to be a hot one. In the shade it was warm and lovely, in the sun it would soon be miserable. Listening to the world around her, she heard Jeremiah close the hood of his new truck. Opening her eyes, she swept the small yard and found him as he wiped his hands. She watched the way he moved when he placed his tools in the bed of his truck. Then he took the stairs two at a time, heading toward her. He leaned down and kissed her before he dropped into the chair Gen had just vacated. She handed him her iced tea and watched as he drained it.
“Feel up to going for a drive?” He grabbed her hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing the back of it.
“Where to?”
“The Hills. Let’s pack a lunch and make a day of it.”
“That sounds lovely. I’ll go settle our lunch.”
“Perfect. I’ll let Gen know we’re leaving for the day. I’m sure she’d love to have a day to run around naked in her own home.”
She swatted at him. “I so did not need to hear that.”
He laughed and stood up. “Be back in a second to help.” He loped down the stairs and jogged into the cafe. Eden bypassed the kitchen and changed into a nice pair of shorts, a light cotton top, and slipped on a pair of sandals.
Jeremiah was back in the kitchen shoving little white boxes into a picnic basket when she returned.