Page 5 of The Summer I Stayed (Midlife Meet Cute #5)

Jake

The lake house stands like a monument, a stark reminder of what used to be. The damage isn’t catastrophic, but it’s enough to be a pain. Fallen roof shingles, shattered windowpanes, but luckily, the unwelcome family of raccoons is no longer here.

Maggie stands beside me, staring at the house with a determined set to her shoulders. Her eyes reflect the resolve I can see in her posture—she’s not going anywhere.

I take out my notebook that I always keep in my back pocket and start making notes while she asks questions about the extent of the damage and how we—well, I—plan to fix it. The mention of “we” makes me raise an eyebrow, but I keep my thoughts to myself.

I’ve seen it before. Someone comes in with a romantic notion of renovating an old house, and before they know it, they’re in over their head. But something tells me she’s not one to back down from a challenge.

“Will we need to replace all the windowpanes?” she asks, squinting up at the shattered glass of the skylight.

“Looks like it,” I confirm, pleased she’s not being overly optimistic about this.

“And the roof?” she continues. “How much time will it take to get it done?”

“Depends on what we find when we start fixing it.” I shrug, not wanting to make promises I can’t keep.

“I’ve got quite a project on my hands with this place.”

I arch my eyebrow at her dry tone. “Storm did most of it. The rest is just what happens when a place is left to nature.”

Her face falls slightly, and I immediately regret my words. “Sorry,” I mutter.

“No, you’re right,” she admits quietly. “I should’ve looked after it better.”

Thanks to Gemma, I now know her husband passed away, and that’s why the house has sat empty. I should respond with something to comfort her or assure her it’ll get better soon. But I’m not a man of words. Instead, I do what I do best—I work.

I finish my first assessment, jotting down supplies I’ll need to grab. As long as there’s no unforeseen problems (which there always are), I estimate it’ll take around six weeks to restore it to its former glory.

“We’ll start with the roof, making sure there’s no further damage than some lost shingles. Then we’ll clean up the inside. We could probably have you in here by next week.”

She nods, taking it in. “How long have you been doing this, Jake? Fixing things?”

“All my life,” I admit, glancing at her. “The hardware store has been in my family for three generations. You learn a few things when you grow up following your dad and grandpa around, helping people fix things.”

“Three generations? That’s…impressive.”

“Guess it is,” I reply, scratching the back of my head.

I’ve never really thought about it like that.

I always thought I’d get out of here and move to the city, become something.

But that was when my future was tied to a girl, something I’ll never do again.

Then my dad got sick, and I couldn’t bring myself to leave my parents on their own.

So I stayed; I set down my ambitions and took on my family legacy.

“Some people aren’t meant for small towns,” I grumble, more to myself than her.

“It’s homey, comforting even. It’s one of the things Steven and I loved most about it.”

She speaks his name like it still hurts. Like the wound is fresh, even after years have passed. That kind of pain doesn’t just go away.

“I, uh, I should be heading out. Got another job in town before the meeting tonight.”

“What meeting?”

“Town meeting,” I explain, shifting uncomfortably under her gaze. “Discuss any issues or upcoming events.”

“Like the Summer Festival?” she asks, her face brightening.

“Yeah,” I gruffly reply, a little taken aback by the abrupt change in her demeanor.

“Gemma mentioned it yesterday. It seems like a great opportunity to get involved.”

I raise an eyebrow, not quite sure what to make of her enthusiasm. “If you’re into that sort of thing.”

“I am,” she insists with a nod. “I think it’s important to be part of the community.”

Of course she does. What else should I expect from Ms. Sunshine? The last thing I need is more of this “community spirit” nonsense in my life.

“I’d like to go.”

“Driftwood Diner,” I confirm, turning away from her. “Seven sharp.”

I walk out onto the front lawn when Maverick quickly plops down on the ground.

“What’s wrong, boy?” I question. Slowly, it dawns on me why. “What did you steal this time?”

Maverick wags his tail in response, but he doesn’t get up from his spot on the floor. I glance down to see a hammer nestled between his paws.

“Ah,” I sigh, reaching down to remove the tool from his grip. Mav looks at me with disappointed eyes, as if I stole his favorite toy. I pat the top of his head.

Maggie giggles from behind me, and I turn around to see her leaning against the doorframe, a soft smile on her face. “Thank you for your help, Jake…and you too, Maverick.”

I nod at her and make my way off her property, Maverick following close behind.

I walk into the smell of freshly brewed coffee and pie, making my stomach growl in response.

I haven’t had dinner yet, and I’m more than ready to dig into something after the day I’ve had.

Gemma spots me from across the room and waves me over.

Edna’s behind the counter, serving endless cups of coffee and plates of pie.

Maggie pops out of the kitchen carrying a tray filled with more pie slices.

A pang of irritation shoots through me. Why is she everywhere I am?

I shake my head. Why do I even care?

I make for the vacant seat next to Gemma, folding my arms over my chest as I glance at the clock. Just a few minutes until the madness begins.

Gemma leans over to whisper in my ear, “Maggie’s agreed to help with the festival.”

“Oh, did she?” I sigh, looking over at Maggie as she hands out slices of pie.

It’s obvious they’re smitten with her already.

She radiates this warmth that even I find myself drawn to, but there’s no way I’ll ever admit that out loud or think about it ever again.

Once the house is fixed, she’s just going to leave and go back to the city. No reason to give her another thought.

I realize I’m still staring at Maggie and quickly glance back at Gemma. She leans back into her seat and gives me an amused side-glance. It’s like she can read my mind. Terrifying.