“You had one earlier, I know. It looked good.”
“It was.” He gazed at her and she felt heat rise up her neck. Get a grip, she told herself, embarrassed that she’d allowed this stranger to wheedle his way into her life. She’d been duped before and though he said he wasn’t thinking anything, how could she trust him? Maybe he was trying to pick her up. What kind of woman did he think she was? She’d always been too trusting, too unsuspecting, and it was time to change. She steadied herself and peered into his eyes. “I don’t understand why you want to talk with me.”
“I don’t, either,” he said, the same crooked grin spreading to his lips. “I’m curious, I guess.”
“Curious?” His words skittered up her spine. “About what?”
“About you. What made you volunteer to wait tables? I’ve seen waitresses blow their corks and dart off, but I’ve never seen a customer stand up and take over.”
“I’ve worked as a waitress.” She felt the heat in her cheeks deepen. “Are you telling me you came back here because you were curious?”
His gaze drifted out the window, then back to her. “My son has track practice and I’m waiting for him.”
Son. Then he was married. Embarrassed at her presumption, she lowered her eyes to his left hand. No ring. Did lumberjacks wear rings?
“You’re a good dad to pick up your son from school.”
Nick’s mouth twisted.
She’d never had her dad pick her up from anywhere, but then she’d been grateful he didn’t. So often he was drunk.
“He doesn’t have his runabout today and we live on the island.” He tilted his head toward the window.
She followed his nod toward the island across the lake, filled with lovely houses bordered by acres of thickly wooded land. Privacy. Elegance.
“I was at a contractor’s meeting in town and it was convenient.” He gazed out the window toward the water and the look on his face made her wonder.
Convenient? She sensed he was dismissing her “good father” comment. “It’s still nice.” Rona pulled her gaze from the window back to him, her memory drifting back to an earlier comment. “You had a contractor’s meeting. Then, you’re in construction?”
He fingered his coffee mug. “Yes, and I own a resort on Drummond Island, up the road a few miles.”
Construction, owns a resort—the man had to be wealthy. Her earlier lumberjack image vanished and she winced at her simplistic perception.
Her focus lowered to the table and the job application. For some reason she felt guilty. “I guessed you for a lumberjack.”
He chuckled. “No, but my family once owned a logging company years ago.” He offered her his hand. “My name’s Nick Thornton.”
Thornton. She felt another grin settle on her face. So much for Bunyan. She grasped his fingers. “I’m Rona Meyers.”
He studied her face while she waited for him to say something. Anything.
Finally he gestured to the forms she’d pushed against the wall. “Job application?” His expression had changed so quickly to a frown.
She studied him without responding. His smile didn’t return. “I need a job and Bernie offered. I figured I’d take it until something else comes along.”
He drew back, his scowl deepening.
The look threw her. What did he care? “I was honest with Bernie. I told him no guarantee. He still offered me work as long as I want. I don’t suppose I’ll find much else in a small town like this, anyway.”
He shifted her application form with his index finger. “There’s work if you know where to look.”
She studied his face, waiting for him to continue.
Silence fell between them again until she felt forced to speak. “Where should I look?”
“At me.”
“At you?” She enjoyed looking at him. He had a great smile, good looks and a playful personality—if she felt like playing games, which she didn’t right now. “What does that mean?”
“Doesn’t matter. It’s too late. You’ve found your own job.” He lifted a newspaper from the chair beside him and slid it on the table, glanced at his watch and rose. “Gary’s probably waiting. I’d better get.”
He dropped two dollars on the table and took a step away before pivoting to face her again. “Nice to meet you, Rona,” he said, walking backward.
She watched him swing through the front door and felt very alone. He appeared outside the window, crossed the street and headed along the sidewalk beside the marina. Then he vanished from her sight.
The application lay beside her hand, and she eyed it while her mind soared back to her situation in Eastpointe when she’d been so naive. She’d had a number of bad relationships and now, with maturity, she was trying to decipher why she’d had such poor judgment. She trusted people too easily—that had been her discovery. The memory edged against her heart and the loneliness grew. She’d come here, knowing no one, really. Shirley Bailey probably wouldn’t remember her.
Her coffee had cooled, but she took a last drink, trying to focus on her new life here in Les Cheneaux area—in Hessel. When the desolate feeling passed, she shifted her attention from the application to the newspaper.
Drawing it closer, she turned it to face her. Odd. Nick had left it open to employment ads. She skimmed the list until she spotted Nick’s name. Her pulse tripped as she read the ad.
Housekeeper needed on Marquette Island.
Transportation provided. Good pay.
Room and board.
Contact Nick Thornton.
Transportation provided? With no bridge or ferry, that made sense. She studied his telephone number while her heart sank. Room and board. Good pay and an island. She’d be safer there.
But she didn’t know Nick Thornton. Could she trust him? She’d be alone on an island with a man she didn’t know. She rubbed her temples, then grinned. Could she trust herself?
Chapter Two
Nick pulled alongside the high school and watched the building. He liked to be on time. Gary had little patience and he tried not to stir up any more animosity than was necessary.
Kids were like that. They hated their parents once they reached their teens. Nick often wished he could ship Gary away to a farm and then bring him back when he’d become an adult and learned civility, patience and hopefully some love.
Fighting his son to live his Christian morals and values had gone by the wayside. Lately, Nick struggled to communicate about anything with Gary. He wondered if his wife hadn’t died would Gary be different? Jill. Her image flashed through his mind along
