“Takes after her grandmother.”

“Perhaps.” Geneva lifted her flute. “I think I might be in a champagne mood after all.”

THE FORECASTED STORM blew in on Thursday night, pummeling the Tidewaters site with rain and bullying whitecaps across the bay. Quinn canceled Friday’s construction plans and holed up that morning in the office trailer.

Shortly before noon, a battered blue pickup pulled into the small parking area beside his truck. Quinn rose from his desk chair and rounded the counter to open the door. “Hey, Steve.”

“Mornin’, Quinn.” Steve Wade stomped into the stuffy room and shook the wet from his slicker. He’d put on a few pounds since he’d worked on Quinn’s crew. And picked up a tremor in his hands since his days as Quinn’s number-one drinking buddy. “How’re things?” he asked in a falsely cheerful voice.

“Can’t complain.” Quinn moved behind the counter, uneasy with Steve’s cadaverlike grin and the overpowering smell of mint on his breath. “Yourself?”

“Fine. Just fine. You’d never know what happened all those years ago. Medical science is a miracle, and I’m living proof. Walking proof,” Wade corrected with an unpleasant chuckle. He glanced around the office and then leaned in to squint at Rosie’s picture. “This Rosie?”

“Yeah.”

“Growing up fast, isn’t she? Sure is getting pretty. Just like her momma.” Wade strolled in a casual circle around the compact space, making a show of checking things out. “Heard Rosie’s back with you.”

“That’s right.” Quinn wanted to wait him out, but he wanted him gone more. “What can I do for you, Steve?”

“Well, now, I’m not sure that’s the right question.” Wade quit his wandering to slouch against the counter, and Quinn noticed the sickly red rimming his eyes. Drinking again. Or using something else to get him through the day.

“The right question,” Wade continued, “is what can I do for you?”

“I don’t need any help on this job, if that’s what you’re here about.”

Wade dropped the former-buddy act and gave Quinn a squinty-eyed stare. “Heard another man got hurt here this week.”

“That’s right.”

“Just like old times.”

“No.” Quinn kept his voice steady and his eyes on Wade’s. “It wasn’t anything like what happened to you.”

“Is that so?” Wade lifted one brow over a long, hard stare, giving memory time to drip its bitterness into the silence. And then his lips thinned in another smile as he dropped his gaze to his hands and rubbed a spot on one of his thumbs. “Well, I stopped by today ’cause I figured I could help you out some. Maybe take his place.”

“I figured that might be the reason for this visit. But I’ve already got it covered.”

Wade’s grin faded. “Well, now. That’s convenient.”

“I don’t think Ned would agree with that.”

“Look here, Quinn.” Wade curled his hand into a fist on the counter and then spread his shaking fingers wide. “You owe me.”

Quinn nodded, acknowledging the sentiment, if not the fact. “I paid that debt a long time ago.”

“Some debts can’t never be paid in full.”

“This isn’t one of them.”

Quinn moved around the counter and strode to the door. He opened it wide and stood, holding the knob in place while the wind flung the cold and wet in to lash at his clothes and spit on the dusty floor.

Wade’s eyes roamed over Quinn’s features as though he were searching for a change of heart. Or a sign of weakness. At last he straightened, tugged the slicker’s hood over his head and walked out the door. “See you around, Quinn.”

Quinn didn’t respond. There was nothing more to say than what he’d already said a dozen times. And no way to respond to the menace coiled in Wade’s parting words.

TESS LEANED a shoulder against one of her office windows facing Main Street on Friday, frowning at the whitecaps frosting the waves on the bay. Things were getting nasty out there. It was a good thing she’d slipped out to get a midafternoon double-caramel latte before the storm had gathered strength. Now moaning gusts of wind drove fat drops against the glass, and the sky was so smudged with gray she’d switched on her desk lamp to add an extra bit of light to her darkened work space.

Not that she intended to sit and produce something…productive. It was Friday afternoon, after all, and there wasn’t anything on her desk that couldn’t wait until Monday. Hell, there was nothing on her desk, not even dust. She’d spent the morning straightening her snack counter, filing her notes, rearranging her paper clips and pencils and wiping down her phone and keyboard. Now the remainder of the day stretched ahead, with nothing to fill it but a low-level craving for caffeine she didn’t need and an invitation for a drink at the Shanty-man she didn’t want.

No, she didn’t want to hang out at the usual bar and stare at the usual crowd. She might not know the reason for her restlessness, but she knew it wouldn’t be cured by flirting with some local guy or rehashing the local gossip. She’d call Addie and suggest an alternative-sharing a takeout dinner and kicking back with a rented movie instead of dressing for a girls’ night out. Or maybe they could invite themselves to Charlie’s house and give Jack a bad time.

Another slap of wind rattled the glass, and a crooked lightning dagger stabbed through the bruised clouds to the south. Tess sipped the last of her cooling drink and didn’t quite count to three before the thunder rumbled along Main Street. Definitely a night to cozy up with friends instead of perching on a hard bar stool. She couldn’t think of a takeout meal she’d like to eat or a movie she’d like to see at the moment, but she could coast along on Addie’s choices.

Now if she could just work up the enthusiasm to cross the room and pick up the phone.

A big black truck pulled to the curb outside her shop as another boom of thunder rolled down the street like a runaway bass drum. Her pulse kicked up with annoyance, and she realized an argument with Quinn would be a more effective method of filling her afternoon and revving up her system than a second cup of caramel latte.

She opened the door, flipping the Open sign to Closed as he walked in. “Too wet to work?” she asked.

“Too windy.” He pulled off his Keene Concrete gimme cap and combed his fingers through his hair. “Too stormy to draw plans?”

“Too depressing.” She dropped her empty cup into the tiny metal bin near the entrance and followed him to the back of her office. “Speaking of depressing-how’s Ned?”

“Healing, but grouchy as a pack of grizzlies, according to Sylvie.”

“Poor thing.”

“Ned? Or Sylvie?” Quinn rolled his hat and stuffed it into his jacket pocket. “Seems to me she got the worst end of the deal.”

“No argument there.”

He unfastened several jacket snaps. “Got a minute?”

“Got several of them as it turns out.” She waved a hand at a row of decorative pewter doorknob hooks along one wall as he shrugged out of his heavy, soaked jacket. “You can hang that there.”

He did as she’d asked and then turned to face her. “Sylvie told me you dropped by with a casserole dinner a couple of nights ago. Nice of you.”

“Don’t act so surprised, Quinn.” Tess strolled toward her desk. “I can be nice when the mood hits.”

“She said she had no idea what was in it. The kids were afraid to eat it at first.”

“I’ll bet they loved it.”

He grinned. “Every bite.”

She grinned back at him, and it struck her that this was the first time she’d ever seen him smile. Really, truly smile. And omigod, his was breathtaking. She hadn’t imagined precisely how that tanned skin would stretch over those angular bones or how much amusement could be packed into the tiny lines fanning from the corners of his eyes.

A flash of lightning brightened the office and tickled the current to the fixtures. One. Two. A combination crack-and-boom rattled the windows.