Page 6 of Meet Me at Sunset Cove (Jonathon Island #5)

Chapter Three

F or a day that had started so well, it hadn’t taken long for things to spin out of control.

The morning’s events were still replaying in his head as Hunter pulled into the parking lot of Barrett Construction in Port Joseph, having picked up his car from long-term parking near the ferry.

He didn’t know what to be more upset about…

His mother’s unsolicited wedding invite, his father trying to sell the family home, or the reappearance of the woman he’d spent years trying to forget.

He gathered himself and stepped out of the truck, carrying his jacket. This far onto the mainland, the air off the lake didn’t quite have the same chilling effect that kept the island a good ten degrees cooler year-round.

Hunter pushed through the glass doors, the familiar scent of coffee and sawdust doing little to calm his frayed nerves as he made his way toward his dad’s office.

“Morning, Hunter,” Dawn said, catching Hunter’s attention from behind the administration desk with a hand over the receiver of her phone.

Her desk was piled high with forms and notes, a coffee cup sat forgotten beside the computer with a sticky note scribbled on in teal ink.

She grabbed a stack of files and plopped them down on top of the reception desk.

“Can you look at these when you get a chance?”

“Will do,” Hunter said, sliding the pile into his palm. He nodded toward the scattered mess on her desk. “That kind of day already, it seems.” Good to know it wasn’t just him.

Dawn shoved out a breath. “Where do I start?” She rolled her eyes dramatically.

“I’ve been on hold all morning with the permit office. The inspection for the Wilkinsons’ project has been rescheduled?—”

“What—why?” Hunter flipped through the pile with furrowed brows.

Dawn shook her head. “Your father stopped by and noticed that the window trim was half an inch wider than the approved specs.” Of course he did.

“Then there’s the issue with the supplier for the Morton renovation.

They’re saying the order is delayed by at least three weeks because of some custom moldings we ordered? ”

The unnecessary custom moldings Hunter had spoken at length about with his father. They were supposed to have been edited out of the design. Hunter ran a hand over his face. “All right, I’ll call them and see if I can expedite it. What else?”

“Two of our best crew members called in sick, we’re short-staffed on the Riverfront project because we keep sending portions of the framing back to be redone,” Dawn continued.

“Let me guess?—”

“Your father says the nail spacing was off from the blueprints. Waylen’s there now, but we’re going to be behind.” Dawn continued, “Oh and Mrs. Henderson is threatening to sue over the color of her kitchen cabinets.”

“The color she chose and signed off on three separate times?” Hunter asked incredulously.

Dawn nodded, a wry smile on her face. “The very same.”

Hunter let out a long breath, his eyes drifting shut.

At least that was a problem that didn’t require him to babysit his own father to keep him from derailing the entire business over minute details.

“Okay, I’ll handle the inspection issue first, see if I can call in a favor and get us rescheduled and back on track.

Can you reach out to David over at Midwest Reno, see if he’s willing to loan us some guys?

If he gives you any flack, remind him of the carpentry job I did for him last minute a month back.

And schedule a meeting with Mrs. Henderson for this afternoon.

I’ll smooth things over. Oh, and I asked Waylen to help out with Riverfront tomorrow, so add him to the crew count.

He’ll make sure they stick to the specs. ”

Dawn’s shoulders visibly relaxed. “What would we do without you, Hunter? This place would fall apart in a week.”

Warmth washed over him despite the heavy weight in his chest. He was good at his job. And he enjoyed the work. But sometimes it felt like he was single-handedly keeping the company afloat while his father obsessed over every little detail.

“Is my dad in?” Hunter asked, glancing toward the office at the back of the building.

Dawn’s expression turned hesitant. “He is, but he’s in a meeting.”

Hunter frowned. “Did he say with whom?”

Before she could answer, the door to his dad’s office opened and Seb Jonathon, the mayor of Jonathon Island, with his graying hair and normally positive demeanor, stepped out, his expression sour as he stormed down the hall.

Apparently, Hunter and Dawn weren’t the only people having a rough day.

“Seb,” Hunter said in surprise.

Seb was so deep inside his head, he hardly noticed Hunter standing at the desk. He did a double take, Hunter’s greeting finally seeming to click. “Hunter! How you doin’?”

Hunter tilted his head, his brows raised. “It’s been one of those days.”

Seb chuckled half-heartedly. He glanced back over his shoulder and nodded in the direction of the office. “Maybe you could talk some sense into him?”

If only that had ever worked…

“I’ve got a great opportunity for the company,” Seb explained. “An opportunity to get the business back onto the island, where you belong.”

Hunter’s brows shot upward. “Really?”

“Really,” Seb said. “Thanks to the revitalization plan, we’ve got a lot of new business owners on the island, living in houses that have been abandoned for a good deal of time.

But aside from that, Liam has been looking for specialty contractors for the Grand to restore some of the hotel’s more iconic features. We need a Barrett out there.”

Hunter’s chest squeezed at the opportunity.

Again, Seb nodded toward Joe’s office, a look of disappointment seeping through the age-old responsibility lines of his face. “Talk to him. I know there are a lot of people who’d like him back, even if he doesn’t believe it.”

Before Hunter could ask for more, Seb clapped him on the shoulder and pushed past to the exit.

Hunter turned back to Dawn, who shared his look of confusion. She gave a sudden jolt and uncovered the phone receiver. “Yes, I’m still here…” Her words trailed off as the call resumed, and Hunter left her to it.

His father’s office door was cracked, and Joe Barrett sat behind his desk, looking years older than he should.

His broad shoulders slumped back against his chair with one hand threaded through his thinly combed, graying hair as he closed his eyes.

Hunter could remember a time when his father used to look energized coming home from work, like the work had filled him rather than draining him dry. Hunter hesitated, his hand on the knob.

Even if he could convince his dad to take Seb’s offer, if they sold the house, there’d be nothing left to go back to.

With a swift motion, he opened the door.

His dad dropped his hand from his face. “Hey, Hunter.”

Hunter nodded over his shoulder, toward the lobby where Seb Jonathon had just been standing. “Why didn’t you hear Seb out, Dad?”

His dad shot him a look of dismay. “Not you too…”

Hunter rushed forward. “Come on, Dad. Moving the business back to the island is a good idea.”

“We don’t have the capacity, Hunt. In case you didn’t notice.” He grabbed a haphazard handful of papers and let them fall back to the desk. “We’re drowning here.”

“Only because you can’t trust us enough to get work done.

We should be doing jobs that we can really put our stamp on,” Hunter replied.

“Something we can slow down and put all our attention on, take the time to get perfect. I’m sorry, I know you’re afraid to mess up again, especially back on Jonathon, but?—”

“The answer is no.” His father ran a hand through his thinning hair.

“Dad…”

“I’m not going back to the island, Hunt. It’s not happening.”

A tense silence filled the air, seeping into Hunter’s lungs, making it hard to breathe. “Fine.”

His father stared at him for a long moment and let out a heavy breath. He glanced at his watch. “It’s a little late. Where’ve you been?”

Oh, no. They were far from done arguing.

“How long have you been planning to sell the house?” Hunter asked, cutting to the chase.

A flash of surprise crossed his face, and then his dad let out an exhausted breath, shaking his head. “I talked to Mia about it a couple of months ago?—”

“A couple of months ?” Hunter reeled back. “Don’t you think that’s something that you should have talked to your sons about?”

His dad picked up a pencil, fidgeting with it as he avoided Hunter’s eye. “I was going to talk to you boys, trust me. I just asked her to put some feelers out. See if there was anybody asking.”

“And?”

His eyes flashed back to Hunter, his shoulders sagging slightly. “And I’ve got a few people I’m talking to.”

Talking to? That sounded like a lot more than putting out some feelers.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Dad.” Hunter ran a hand over the back of his neck. “I want to see the trust documents?—”

“Hunter—”

“I want to see them. You can’t sell the house; it’s not yours to sell.

” He could feel his chest tightening, his temper rising at the betrayal.

It was supposed to be the Barrett family home.

Forever. A home that would pass down generation to generation.

Giving them all a place to stay tethered.

The Barrett house was family. And you didn’t abandon family when things fell apart, or because of a little “bad luck.”

His dad stared at him for a long moment, as though trying to decide if he was serious. He finally huffed out a breath, shaking his head as he opened his filing cabinet. He rifled around for a minute and then slapped a thick manila folder onto the desk. “Have at it.”

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