Butternut Summer (42 page)

“Look,” Jack said now, suddenly serious. “There's something else we need to celebrate tonight.”

“Yes?”

“Pearl's,” he said. “The best coffee shop east of the Mississippi. It's already served three generations of customers. Now, with any luck, it'll serve three more.”

“It'll take more than luck,” Caroline said sadly.

“I know,” Jack replied quickly. “It'll take money, too. Which is why . . .” He paused here, seemed to consider something, then said, “Oh, never mind. This will say it better than I can anyway.” And he reached into his front shirt pocket, pulled out a folded envelope, and handed it to her.

She turned it over in her hands. It was unmarked.

“Open it,” he said, his blue eyes suddenly serious.

Caroline opened it and slid out a check. It was written from Jack's bank account, made out to her. For forty-four thousand and five hundred dollars.

She felt a little sting of hurt surprise. “This isn't funny, Jack.”

“It isn't supposed to be,” he said, frowning.

“But . . . it's a joke, right?”

“No, it's not a joke,” he said, looking faintly annoyed. “That's a real check.”

She studied it. It
looked
real enough. But still . . .

“Jack Keegan,” she said, tensing. “Where did you get this money?”

“I saved it.”

“You saved it? The Jack I knew couldn't save a dime.”

“Well, I'm not that man anymore. I thought we'd already been over that.”

She put the check back into the envelope and put the envelope onto the table. He looked a little hurt, she realized. But she didn't care. She wasn't taking his ill-gotten gains.

“Oh, for God's sake, Caroline. If you're worried about my having robbed a bank or something like that, you can relax. I made this money the old-fashioned way. I earned it.”

“How?”

“Working at an oil refinery. Once I stopped drinking, and playing poker, there wasn't much left to spend my money on. Not in Elk Point, South Dakota, anyway. Besides, I figured the more time I spent working, the less time I'd spend thinking about drinking. So I worked overtime, and I worked weekends and holidays, both of which, by the way, are high-risk times for recovering alcoholics.”

She studied him carefully. She believed him, she decided. But she still couldn't take the check. Reaching over, Caroline pushed the envelope closer to him on the table.

He sighed and crossed his arms. “You're not going to make this easy, are you?”

She shook her head.

“Why not?”

“Because it's a lot of money, Jack. Too much for me to pay back.”

“It's not a loan, Caroline.”

“What is it then?”

“It's a . . . gift, I guess. But you've earned it, Caroline. All those years, raising Daisy by yourself, it's the least I can do.”

“Jack . . .” She hesitated, struggling to come to terms with what she'd just learned.
Jack had the money. And he wanted to give it to her
. God knows, she needed it. But could she take it? Just like that? No, she thought. She couldn't. Because if there was one thing she'd learned about money, it was that it never came without strings attached.

“Look, just take it,” he said.

“I can't, Jack.”

“Why not?”

“Because even if I wouldn't owe you the money, I'd owe you something, wouldn't I?”

He look surprised—then angry. “Caroline, you think that's what this is about? You think I want you to feel beholden to me?”

“No, but—”

“Caroline, make no mistake about it. I want you back. Everything I told you that night at Pearl's still holds true. Nothing has changed. But if I can't have you back for the right reasons, I don't want you back at all. That said, I want you to take this money. In fact, I
insist
you take this money.”

But she shook her head. “You worked for this money, Jack. You should save it or invest it.”

“I'm
trying
to invest it, Caroline. In Pearl's.”

“But it's not a good investment if there's not going to be any return on it,” she pointed out.

“Trust me, Caroline. If it'll keep Pearl's open, it'll be the best investment I've ever made.”

“Even if you can't get a cup of coffee there?” she asked, suddenly amused at the memory of their tense negotiations at the beginning of the summer.

“Even if I can't get a cup of coffee there,” he agreed.

Caroline hesitated, then picked the envelope up off the table and slid the check out of it again. She held it by its edges and studied it carefully, thinking—
really
thinking—about everything Jack had said.

Finally, she looked back up at him. “All right, Jack,” she said decisively. “I'll take it.” Jack looked relieved, then pleased.

“I'll take it on
one
condition.”

“Which is . . . ?”

“Which is that this check buys you a share in Pearl's. A partnership in it.”

“Caroline,” he said, shaking his head. “That's not necessary,”

“Yes, it is—because I won't take it any other way. Certainly not as a loan, which we both know I can't pay back, or as a gift, which I'm too proud to accept because it feels too much like charity to me. But if I accept your check as an investment, that, obviously, would be different. Besides, I've often thought of having a business partner, someone to share the responsibility with, and maybe, who knows, the profits. It couldn't be just anyone, of course. It would have to be someone whose opinion I respect, and someone who, I hope, respects mine. But we'll make it legal, Jack. We'll have the business appraised and draw up an agreement.”

“Caroline, I don't know what to say.”

“Say yes,” she said simply.

“But it's a family business,” he objected.

“We have a daughter together. I'd say that makes us family, Jack.”

Now it was Jack's turn to think.

“It's not a bad idea, is it?” Caroline asked finally.

“No. It's not a bad idea. But I don't want to do anything to jeopardize this new, um, friendship we have.”

“Is that what it is, Jack? A friendship?”

“Well, for lack of a better word.”

“Our friendship will be fine. Now, what do you say? Do you want to own a piece of a Butternut institution or not.”

“All right. But I have a condition, too. I'd have to be a silent partner. Because I would never presume to tell you how to run that business, not when you already do it so well by yourself.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “Okay, you can be a silent partner, Jack. But I'm going to take on another partner, too.”

“Who?”

“Frankie. He's got some money to invest. Not as much as you, but enough to replace the air-conditioning system, I hope. And I think it's about time he had a stake in the business, don't you? Nobody, including me, has worked harder for Pearl's over the last several years.”

“You're right,” Jack said. “And he'll be an excellent partner.”

“He will be, won't he?” Caroline was already excited about having this conversation with Frankie. But then something else occurred to her. “Jack,” she said, “if you're going to be a silent partner, what will you do . . . the rest of the time? You know, now that you've gotten the cabin fixed up?”

“It's funny you should ask that,” he said musingly. “I've been thinking about it all afternoon, ever since Bill Phipps came by and offered me my old job back.”

Caroline raised her eyebrows. “He did? What did you say?”

“I thanked him, obviously. But I said no. I told him there was something else I wanted to do.”

“What's that, Jack?”

“I want to keep doing what I've done here,” he said, gesturing at the cabin. “I want to keep fixing these places up.”

“You mean, be a handyman?”

“No,” Jack shook his head. “I mean I want to buy another cabin, fix it up, and sell it. And if I make a profit on it, I want to do it again. And, who knows, maybe again.”

“So you'd renovate these places for a living?”

“Why not? I'll still have some money after you cash that check. And the timing is right. Interest rates are still low, and with the economy improving, more people from the Twin Cities are going to be buying weekend places up here again. I've taken a look at some of the cabins on the market, and they're pretty rustic, to say the least. Some people, of course, want a fixer-upper. But some people, especially busy people, want something they can move right into, some place easy, and low maintenance, where they don't lose that feeling of being in the North Woods, but they don't have to sacrifice comfort to do it either. I don't know yet, obviously, if I can make it pay in the long run”—he gave a little shrug—“but I've got to try.”

She smiled. “You really liked working up here this summer, didn't you?”

“I did. I mean, don't get me wrong, it had its low points. I made a lot of mistakes, especially in the beginning. But I got the hang of it. And once I did, I liked working at my own pace. I liked being able to see my progress every day. And I liked that feeling of getting something right, even if was something little. You know, doing it the right way, and having it work, like planing a door so that it closes perfectly. Do you know what I mean?”

“Well, maybe not about planing the door,” Caroline said, smiling. “But I think I know what you mean about taking pride in your work.” And she felt that buzzing feeling again, only it was stronger this time and accompanied by a delicious warmth that was threatening to engulf her entire body. It was amazing how describing his work to her had transformed him, she thought, making him even more attractive than he already was. Though, if she were honest with herself, he was already plenty attractive to her without having to say a single word.

The warmth spread a little more, but she took another sip of her sparkling water and tried to ignore it. For now, anyway. This conversation wasn't over yet.

“Jack, look, I think your idea about rebuilding cabins is great. I really do. If this place is any indication of the quality of your work, you won't have any trouble selling the next one. But there's something else I wanted to talk about.”

“What's that?”

“Well,” she paused, not knowing exactly how to broach this subject. “I, I know you've been sober for two years. But, Jack, a lot of recovering alcoholics eventually relapse.”

“Caroline,” he said, bemused. “Have you been watching one of those shows about addiction?”

“Yes, I have,” she said. “I've been doing some Internet research, too. I know a lot more now about it than I did before. I'm not an expert on the subject, not by any means. But Jack, I must say, I'm really proud of you. What you've done . . . it hasn't been easy, has it?”

“No, it hasn't. But I've had two very powerful sources of motivation.”

“But what if you relapse? Then what? What happens to our business partnership? And to our . . . our friendship?”

“I'm not going to lie to you, Caroline. It's a possibility; I like to think, though, in my case, it's not a big possibility. I've got a lot to lose, now that I've got you and Daisy back in my life. But all I can do is take it one day at a time—go to my meetings, meet with Walt, avoid triggers like going to bars or being around other people who are drinking.” He shrugged. “That's about it. That's all I can do. I mean, the risk will always be there. But as someone who used to be a betting man, I have to say, I like my odds.”

“So do I, Jack . . . Do you, do you feel like drinking right now?” she asked, looking at him steadily.

“No. Not even a little. I'd much rather be here with you, watching the sunset that we're not watching,” he said, smiling.

Caroline smiled at him, but she ignored the sunset. She knew if she didn't keep going, she'd lose her courage. There was something she needed to ask him, something she knew he didn't want to be asked.

“Jack, there's something else. It's about your childhood.”

“What about it?” he said, looking suddenly tense.

“I need to know about it, about what happened to you.”

“Why?”

“Because you were right when you said we had a lot of secrets in our family. We do. But I don't want to have them anymore. I need you to tell me what happened after your parents died, after you went to live with your aunt and uncle.”

“There's not much to tell.”

“I don't believe you,” she said, not backing down.

“No, it's true. It's pretty simple, actually, what happened to me. My uncle beat the hell out of me,” he said bluntly. “And my aunt . . . my aunt let him beat the hell out of me.”

“Jack . . .” she said, her throat constricting.

He shrugged off her concern. “That's enough about that for now, okay? I promise I'll tell you more later. I'll tell you everything, if you want to hear it. But not tonight. Tonight, I feel like celebrating.”

But as he said that, a leaf from a nearby tree fluttered down onto the deck and landed at Caroline's feet. Something about it caught her attention. She reached to pick it up and saw that it was already edged in yellow.

“Look, Jack,” she said. “The leaves are already starting to turn.”

“I know. Fall's coming; you can feel it in the air. This morning, I almost built my first fire in the fireplace.”

And in that instant, watching him, sitting across from her, in the fading light, Caroline made another decision, a decision her brain had been working on subconsciously all summer.

“Can we have a fire tomorrow morning, Jack?” she asked suddenly.

“Tomorrow morning? Are you planning on coming back here?”

“No. I'm planning on staying here all night, assuming, of course, that I'm invited to stay.”