A small flutter starts up in my chest, and relief sweeps through me when I see he only sent it a couple of minutes ago.
Grady had texted earlier that he was deep into research for his article and wouldn’t surface until dinner, and Jared’s on water taxi duty today, so I’m not otherwise committed.
My thumbs hover over the screen as I decide how to respond. Leif’s recent behavior with the canceled woodworking lesson, the ghosting, and his careful return have made me wary of investing too much. But…
Emily
I have 40 minutes before I need to be back at work.
Meet at the food tent by the visitor area in 15?
My phone buzzes right away.
Leif
Perfect. See you there.
Putting my cooler back, I stand and stretch my back. I’ll need to change my shirt before heading to lunch. The morning’s exertion has left me sweat-soaked, and while Leif has seen me covered in sawdust during our woodworking sessions, there’s a difference between workshop mess and construction site grime.
As I grab a clean shirt from the small locker I keep in the trailer, I push away thoughts of why I care what I look like for a simple lunch meeting.
It’s professional courtesy,I tell myself. Nothing more.
Thirteen minutes later, I approach the food tent, which flutters in the breeze coming off the water, its white canvas walls billowing like sails.
Leif sits at one of the picnic tables under the covered section, back straight and shoulders squared. When he spots me, the tension in his body eases.
“Hope you haven’t been waiting long,” I say, sliding onto the bench across from him.
“Just arrived myself.” Leif pushes a paper menu toward me. “Today’s soup is clam chowder. Holden said it’s fresh from this morning’s catch.”
Around us, the tent buzzes with lunchtime activity. Construction workers from my crew line up at the counter talkamong themselves, their voices a steady rumble as they debate sandwich options. Outside, seagulls wheel and cry, diving when someone drops a crumb.
“Chowder sounds good.” I rise from the table. “Let me grab some. Do you need anything else?”
He shakes his head, indicating the bottled water and sandwich already in front of him. “I’m set, thanks.”
At the counter, I order chowder and coffee, collect my food, and return to find Leif has spread out a few napkins and arranged his sandwich on its wrapper. The need to organize his space puts me on alert, and I wonder if he had ulterior motives for inviting me to lunch.
He had his meeting at the school this week. Could this need for control have to do with Carson?
“How’s the build progressing?” he asks as I settle across from him.
“On schedule, so far.” I blow on a spoonful of chowder. “Weather’s cooperating for now.”
“The water looked choppy this morning. Kyle said the taxi ride was rougher than usual.”
“It was,” I say, swallowing the rich, creamy soup. “September winds are picking up. Once we hit October, the crossings get dicey on some days. You’ll want a good waterproof jacket for the commute.”
“Quinn’s been begging Blake for a bright yellow rain slicker like the ones in her picture books.” His mouth quirks up at one corner. “Complete with matching rain boots.”
The mention of Quinn brings a warmth to his voice that’s been missing lately. “How is she handling the school transition now that the novelty has worn off?”
“Surprisingly well.” Leif takes a careful bite of his sandwich, chewing before continuing. “She’s made a couple of friends, andher teacher says she’s participating more in group activities. Sprinkles has been a perfect gentleman.”
Our conversation flows, touching on neutral topics about the island and Leif’s work with Quinn.
As we eat, he doesn’t bring up why he came to the island today. I could prompt him, but I hold back. He’ll get there if and when he’s ready.