Beach Thriller(26)

“Hey? Are you all right?”

Ethan’s voice sounded like it was bubbling up from the bottom of a well. Holly latched onto it, using the sound to pull her back from whatever abyss she was teetering on. At last she felt her feet on the ground, her fingers tight against the railing. Her vision cleared, and she was back to reality, away from that strange, murky dreamland. What the hell was that?

“Yeah, yeah,” she managed. “I’m okay.” She shook her head, still uncertain. “I think the heat and the stress are getting to me. It’s been a little … overwhelming.”

Ethan nodded. “I hear you, but don’t worry,” he said. “I’ve seen houses in much worse shape. A little sanding, a little paint, and it’ll be as good as new. Right, Gail?”

But Gail didn’t answer. She had slipped inside the house unnoticed during Holly’s episode. Holly heard her puttering about, likely taking measurements for the Zillow listing.

Ethan chuckled, and she felt woozy all over again.

“Gail’s rather … industrious, which makes her great for referrals,” he said.

Good-looking and tactful, Holly observed, maintaining her composure despite feeling a little out of it.

“I’m sure I can help with whatever projects you have. Come on, let’s take a look inside and get out of the sun for a few.”

Taking her by the arm, Ethan led Holly into the house. They found Gail muttering to herself in the kitchen. “Maybe just a breakfast bar or a new window … let in more natural light … ooh, or a sliding glass door to an outdoor patio.”

“Gail!” Holly called out. “Will you please stop redesigning my house for resale value? I’m on a budget. Let’s fix the plumbing before doing major excavation work.”

Gail glanced over, hardly registering Holly’s plea. Her eyes went immediately to Ethan’s hand on Holly’s forearm.

“Uh-oh, careful, honey. Don’t fall for this guy—you’ll be competing with every woman in Beauport.” She tossed her a wink, raking her eyes over Ethan’s physique.

Ethan dropped his hand with an apologetic laugh. “Don’t listen to her, Holly. Gail loves small-town gossip.”

“Don’t try to shift the focus. Every sad country song is written about a guy like you.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” said Holly emphatically.

“For what?” asked Ethan.

“Well, you must have lost your girl, your dog, and your truck all in one day.”

Ethan chuckled. “Yeah, it’s been rough. That’s a rental.” He thumbed out the window to his pickup truck. “No, really, it is. My truck just died. I swear, I’m not making that up.”

They all burst out laughing, but soon got down to business.

Holly showed Ethan around the house, pointing out areas that needed repair. All in all, it was a very long list.

“I should be able to get the work done in about six weeks. I can give you a full estimate by morning.”

“Hopefully, I can get the money—I have to see a lawyer about that.”

“Allen Spellman?” Gail guessed.

“How did you know?” Holly asked.

“Small town, few options, and Allen is the local go-to for estate work. Same as Ethan is a town favorite for home repairs … among other things.” Gail looked mischievous.

Ethan cleared his throat. “If you’re worried about my ability as a handyman, I could send you some references. Or better yet, I’ve done a lot of work at the Carmichael estate. They’re regular clients. That place is so old, there’s always more to do. If you’re up for it, we could take a drive over, and I’ll show you some of my skills.” Ethan flushed. “What I mean is, uh—”

“I know what you mean,” said Holly, who had seen boiled lobster less red. Her kind smile saved him from further embarrassment, and she hoped it left a door open to other possibilities. It rained in the Sahara, if seldom.

The light of gossip sparked in Gail’s eyes. “Oh, you’re going to take her on a tour of the Addams Family house?”

Holly didn’t need a tour. She knew plenty about the Carmichael estate, and had no interest in ever going there again.

Besides, she wasn’t a fan of stone houses. She found them cold and a little creepy—a touch too gothic for her taste. The Addams Family reference was appropriate. But Gail’s tone suggested it was the residents that reminded her of the monster show, not the building itself. Holly agreed.

Gail would love nothing more than dirt on the Carmichaels, and Holly could give her a truckload. But that would mean opening up about her connection to that family, which she was reluctant to do. She was, however, curious what had happened to them over the years. Holly had long ago lost track of the Carmichael clan and their staff, who came and went like the seasons. If anybody knew their recent history, it would be Gail.

“Are the Carmichaels as influential in town as ever?” Holly inquired.

Gail shrugged. “They’ve faded into the background a bit these days. You could say their heyday has turned to mostly hay.” She laughed at her own joke.

“That’s too bad,” said Holly, masking her insincerity. “They used to be pillars of the community, big into their charitable causes.”

“Not anymore, they tend to keep to themselves,” said Gail. “Even summer people like you, Holly, probably remember the soirees they used to throw. The Barefoot Beach Ball? Over the top, or so I heard. I didn’t come to town until after that era had ended.”