The Hero (Page 11)

“I’ve been working,” Devon said with a laugh. “You know, you can take more of these fliers and then you won’t have to keep coming back here.”

He counted out ten fliers. He grinned handsomely. “I’m good with these for now,” he said.

And he was back two days later for ten more. Although the doctor’s hours were posted on the door, Spencer always seemed to stop by when Scott wasn’t there.

In fact, a lot of the townsfolk stopped in from time to time. They wanted to know if the practice was going well and if Dr. Grant had patients yet, and if Devon was getting along all right. Between the diner and the practice Devon grew into the town, and the town grew into her.

After just a couple of weeks, Scott was impressed enough with her job performance that one day, out of the blue, he said, “I’d say your trial period is over and we can increase your pay.”

As her new life fell into place, Devon grew more comfortable. She always kept her eyes sharp but never saw so much as a suspicious vehicle drive through town. She made a trip to the DMV, took and passed her driver’s license test, and now had ID to go with the rest of her new life. Once she had socked away a thousand dollars in her savings account she indulged in a few things for herself. A blow dryer and a nice circular brush, and a few cosmetic items she hadn’t used in years. Now the proud owner of a credit card, she bought some things online where they were often cheaper, but were delivered right to her door.

Along with the other changes, her appearance began to take on a new and improved look. She began to feel like the person she could barely remember.

“Why, Devon,” Lou McCain said. “I knew you were a pretty thing the first day I met you. But, child, I love what you’re doing with your hair these days. And if I’m not completely mistaken, you look like you’ve gained a little confidence.”

A lot of confidence, Devon thought to herself. A large part of that came from realizing she could get a good, stable job and do it well but, perhaps, a larger part came from having women friends again. It was great just having friends to talk to about everything and nothing—from failed love affairs, new romances, family issues, even politics. The best parts of Devon’s week were those days she took a coffee break at the diner with Gina, Sarah, Carrie, Lou and Ray Anne. She missed her sisters at The Fellowship. They hadn’t always agreed or gotten along, loyalties shifted and adjusted, but they had relied on each other.

When Devon found out Ray Anne was a real estate agent, she said, “I’ve been very happy staying with Rawley, but I’d really like to have my own place. And I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

“Yeah, I bet old Rawley is just hats and horns all the time,” Ray Anne said.

Devon laughed. “He’s actually a gem.”

“Talks your ear off, does he?”

“One-on-one, he has plenty to say,” Devon said. “And he promises we’re not in his way and that we can stay as long as we like, but I think Rawley would like having his house back. Even though we’re comfortable there, I’d like to be closer to Dr. Grant’s practice and Gabriella. In fact, just about every street in town is close enough to be able to walk to and from work—that would be so nice. I just don’t have much money. Do you ever come across a room for rent? Or a garage apartment? Maybe furnished? Or anything like that?”

“Not often. But I’ll put the word out. What can you afford?”

She shook her head. “So little,” she said. “A few hundred?”

Ray Anne said, “Whew. That’s going to limit the possibilities.”

“I have no furniture,” Devon said. And rather than explain how she’d been living, she simply said, “I left everything behind, just so I could get out.”

“Hmm, I did that once,” Ray Anne said. “My first husband. I was young, he was a real ass with a drinking problem and I needed to get that behind me. I asked for nothing—I just signed everything and ran for my life. I had to start over. It wasn’t easy but, once I was on my feet, everything was mine.”

Devon was quiet for a minute. Then she said, “First husband?”

“I had three of them. The first one was a drunk, the second was much older and more stable, and he was controlling to the point of being abusive, and the last? Twenty years older than I was and cheating with every young thing he could round up. He had a lot of money so all the girls in their twenties were lining up to give him a go. But, after the first marriage, I never left with nothing again. I figured out a few things. Now I at least have a nest egg.”

“Wow,” Devon said. “Just when you think you’re the only one in the world who had lousy luck with men...”

That made Ray Anne laugh. “Well, don’t believe everything you hear, but I’ve also had some good luck here and there. Maybe it didn’t pan out to be happily-ever-after in the white picket fence ideal, but I had good times with good fellas. So—how’d you get hooked up with Mr. Louse?”

“Oh, that,” she said. “I might as well have been wearing a sign that said, ‘Hi, my name is Devon and I have nothing, no family and my self-esteem is at its lowest ever.’”

“That’ll do it,” Ray Anne said.

Then, in the second week in July Ray Anne called Devon and said, “There’s a duplex at the end of Sarah’s street. It’s for rent. It’s small—only two bedrooms. And I’ll warn you right now—it needs a lot of love. But it’s only four-fifty a month. And everything in it works—appliances, wiring, plumbing. I might be able to talk the landlord into a few improvements, but he’s stubborn. He just wants to forget it’s there, which is why I handle the rental for him.”

“I want to see it,” Devon said instantly.

The duplex was located on one of the higher elevation streets in Thunder Point. The street itself was a bit of a mixed bag with a few large homes along with many that were small and old. Some of the properties were pristine and fussy while others had been left to ruin. The duplex, unfortunately, was one of the latter. There were weeds in the yard, cracked and broken sidewalks and the place had a neglected air about it. There was a broken-down overhang at the front of the house and the view from there was beautiful—Devon could see the entire bay and the mountains beyond. There was a speck off in the distance—that would be Cooper’s place.

“That’s a little scary,” Devon said, pointing to the overhang.

If the outside looked bad, the inside was a disaster. Trash, peeling paint, holes in the walls—mostly from doorknobs that hit the walls when the doors had been swung wide. A few walls showed signs of suspicious holes—as if someone had thrown something or punched them. “Who lived here?” Devon asked.

“Four nineteen-year-old boys who had to be evicted. Mr. Dunwoody—and the neighbors—would like a quieter tenant next time around.”

“And who lives on the other side?”

“Mrs. Marissa Bledsoe, an elderly widow, a little on the weak and wobbly side. She can’t handle much in the way of upkeep, but she’s pleasant and good-natured.”

Devon looked at the filth, the scarred hardwood floors and the chipped and peeling paint. The place even had a bit of a smell to it, of what, she wasn’t sure. The bathroom was a horror—there was a shower curtain that was disgusting and the tub and tiles were filthy. The toilet was older than she was, and there was a large chip in the porcelain tub.

The kitchen was almost as bad. Fortunately the newest item was the refrigerator and since the electricity had been left on, it was only dirty. Nothing had been left to rot.

Behind her Ray Anne was saying, “I know you left your things behind but I can help you find inexpensive secondhand items. Once the floors are scrubbed clean, they’ll be safe, but you’ll need area rugs—this place gets pretty chilly in winter.”

“Will he paint and repair the walls?”

“He says if he has to put any work into it, he wants seven hundred.”

“What about the damaged overhang?” Devon asked.

“I think I can talk him into that—it looks dangerous. And the agreement reads that if anything doesn’t work or leaks, he has to replace or repair it. But it’s four-fifty, as is. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have wasted your time. It’s horrible.”

Devon had been thinking about the layout—a small but functional kitchen, a good-size living room with a pretty little fireplace, two nice-size bedrooms and a rather large, disgusting bathroom. And a view to die for.

“I think it’s beautiful. I’ll take it!”

Six

Midafternoons on a weekday were a quiet time at Cooper’s. Perfect time to have a little sit-down, and Landon and Spencer were asked to join Cooper and Sarah for a talk. Rawley passed the four of them as they were seated around a table on the deck and he headed back to his kitchen.

“You’re welcome to join us if you want the latest news,” Cooper said to him. “We’re having a status update meeting.”

“I don’t do meetings. It ain’t in my contract. I’ll tend bar and serve. Anyone want anything?”

“I’m good,” Spencer said, wondering what this meeting was all about.

“I’ll have a Coke, Rawley,” Landon said.

“’S’at right?” he said, and went inside. But he didn’t come back.

“How’d that work out for you?” Cooper asked with a laugh.

“You need better help around here.” Landon leaned back in his chair lazily. “Just give us the update,” he said. “And be sure you clock my time.”

Cooper looked at Sarah. “Do we have to be married before I can cuff him?” he asked.

But Landon got a wop on the back of the head from Spencer. “I don’t have to marry anyone to do that. I’m his new coach. Now can we get to it? Please?”

“All right, we’re getting married,” Cooper said.

“We know this already, Cooper,” Spencer replied.

“Soon. Two weeks from Saturday. Carrie said she’d cater a party right here—could be very nice. We’ll have a quiet ceremony out on the beach,” he said, taking Sarah’s hand. “Then have a little sunset party on the deck, on the dock, on the beach.”

“How lovely,” Landon said, bored to tears.

“Landon, how would you like your own home?” Sarah asked him.

“So you’re moving out on me instead of moving Cooper in with us?” he asked.

“Something like that,” Cooper said. “We’ve been knocking around plans for the past couple of weeks. Sarah’s going to be flying the rest of the summer. At least that’s the way it looks right now. But she’s short—her schedule is already lightening up and they have a brand-spanking-new Lieutenant Commander on his way in to take over most of her duties. So we started talking to builders. And we’re going to build. Right there,” he said, pointing to the steep hill next door to the bar. “Nice big picture window, big deck, stairs to the beach, big kitchen. We’ll be excavating around the lot, making room.”

“You’re going to disturb the wildlife?” Landon asked. Cooper had been trying to respect the wishes of the departed friend who had left him the beachfront property; Ben had wanted the promontory on the other side of the bar left to the birds and flora—a natural preserve.

“The land between me and Thunder Point doesn’t have any wildlife except beetles on it,” Cooper said. “I’m going to develop it. At least some of it. I have to—I need a couple of decent roads. That’s the price of a house. And I want a house.” He reached for Sarah’s hand. “Sarah’s going along with me on this, at least until she figures out what she wants to do. While she’s having a little time off to think, she’s going to be a general contractor. She’s going to help me build us a house.”