Page 30 of The Sandy Page Bookshop

Luke

He respected what she’d asked for, and so he tried to give it to her. But damned if it wasn’t hard.

Luke was a loner. It was something he’d grown accustomed to in recent years, despite it not being something he yearned for, as some people did.

Like Mrs. Shipman, who seemed to prefer her own company after a lifetime of serving and offering guidance to others.

What worried Luke was that he’d not lived that lifetime yet.

He wasn’t necessarily on board with retiring socially, as she had.

Or as his father had, having left Chatham and moved to Florida where he spent long afternoons solo on his boat, fishing.

Unlike them, Luke had not lived a life with a partner.

With a house full of children and noise and the bustle of family.

That was how he’d always pictured his future.

It was what he’d thought he wanted. It was what he’d almost signed up for in his last relationship, until he realized she wasn’t the one.

But after a long winter on the Cape where one gray day tumbled slowly into the next, and the town was as empty as his house, Luke had come to the realization that at his age if he hadn’t settled down yet, he might not ever.

And though the thought did not sit well with him, he tried to make peace with it.

Sure, he’d had opportunities for relationships, but he knew planning a future meant sacrifice.

Luke was willing to sacrifice, but he was not willing to settle.

Winters were slow and quiet, left to the locals, most of whom were either retired or married.

Come summer, the town was brimming with women, many of them attractive and interesting—but with husbands and partners and families in tow.

As unparalleled as a Cape Cod summer was, it was hardly conducive to meaningful matchmaking.

Vacationers came and went. Among them were a handful of single women his age, many of whom approached him in the Squire pub or the Red Nun, emboldened by their transient status.

But Luke wasn’t a twenty-one-year-old kid looking for a good time and a swift exit.

As the summer crowds clogged the local pubs, these days he took his kayak out on Oyster Pond or stayed home with Scout. It was easier that way.

He’d run into a former classmate, Todd, at the pier the night he’d taken Leah for lobster rolls. She didn’t see him as she’d stayed in the truck with Scout. But he’d certainly noticed her. “Got yourself a pretty girl, huh, Nickerson?”

Luke had glanced back at the truck. “She’s just an old friend.”

“That’s what they all say,” Todd said, laughing gruffly. Luke couldn’t help but notice Todd looked like life had worn him down, dulled his patina. “Me? I’m a free man. Can come and go as I want. Got only my job and my dog to worry about.”

Luke hadn’t known exactly what to say. He wondered if that described him.

Todd apparently had the same notion. “It’s alright, Nickerson,” he said, clapping Luke on the back. “Some of us are just meant to be alone.”

All of that began to change when Leah Powell came home.

Working so closely alongside her had been infuriating and exhausting and altogether consuming: she wanted things from him that were nearly impossible to deliver.

Yet he did. And he found himself emotionally buoyed despite the physical exhaustion.

Staying up all night to paint her sign or frame her shelves was not just something he was willing to do, it was something he needed to do.

In their weeks together, there was no denying the connection they shared; history was one thing, but chemistry was another entirely.

And damned if they didn’t have both. Still, he did not let his thoughts get ahead of him.

She was a woman deep in transition, still reeling from her old life while trying to start anew.

Luke was not stupid. Nor was he about to saddle himself with any of it.

He had too much respect for both of them.

And so he did as he was asked, as a friend and an employee, and tried to keep thoughts of anything more at bay.

And then the night at Harding’s Beach flipped everything on its head.

It had been a long week, and that night she’d seemed so down on her luck.

After opening up to him about her fiancé and her job and all the things she’d walked away from, Luke couldn’t very well leave her alone in the empty shop.

When he asked her to go to the beach it was for a change of scenery and subject. That was all.

But the night turned into so much more. In the span of a few minutes it started and ended something he hadn’t even known he wanted. Before he even had time to grasp what was beginning, it was over.

Now, he had to finish the damn job and get out of there.

There were six wooden storage units to be framed, painted, and installed.

Then he would really be done. He pulled the final piece of white oak off the table saw.

The wood was far too nice to be painted, but he had excess from a previous project and was trying to help her keep costs down.

Plus, the density would prevent it from sagging or warping; he wanted it to last for her.

It would be so easy to just slap it together and throw on a coat of that red paint she favored.

But he didn’t cut corners. Luke set the board atop his workbench, grabbed a section of medium grade sandpaper, and got to work sanding down the edges.

When he played baseball as a kid, his father used to tell him, “Keep your eye on the ball and your head in the game.” It was the same advice he gave when Luke took over his carpentry outfit and turned it into his own custom woodworking business.

It was how he’d tried to conduct himself his whole life.

This summer Luke had fumbled. He’d let his eye get pulled away.

He’d allowed his head to get tangled with someone else’s problems, and his heart with the past. Despite the mixed signals, Leah had set firm boundaries.

Even if it meant going against everything he felt, he’d respect them.

Maybe, like his old friend at the pier said, he just was meant to be alone.