Free Second Chance by Shelby Gates Page B

rotting wood.
    “Yeah, that’s what I thought he said,” Kevin said. “Good thing you hooked up with him. He knows the island market the best.”
    She just nodded.
    “And refinishing?” he asked, jotting down notes. “Are we doing that? Sanding and staining?”
    She glanced down. “Probably.” She loved the deep, rich color of the wood. “Can we make them look like this? When they’re done?”
    She shouldn’t care. It wasn’t going to be hers. But she wanted it to be the same, if not for her, for the new occupants.
    “Sure,” he said. He wrote something else down. “I just need to grab a few more measurements. Shouldn’t take me more than ten minutes.”
    He was quick. He reappeared, clipboard tucked under his arm, a smile on his face.
    “Alright, John will be in touch.” He offered a quick goodbye and was gone.
    Elle was back in her grandmother’s bedroom in a flash. Quickly, before something else interrupted her, she slid her finger underneath the sealed flap on the back of the envelope. She peeked inside. There was a piece of pink stationery, folded in half. And another envelope.
    She pulled out the letter first.
    Dear Elle,
    Forgive me for not sending this along sooner. My memory isn’t so good these days—you know that. I don’t know what’s inside of this envelope, only that I was asked to send it to you. Let me know if you need to talk.
    Love,
    Grandma
     
    Elle’s breathing quickened. There was only one person on the island who would have sent her a letter.
    One person who had promised to keep in touch. And who never had.
    Cash Brady.
     

FIFTEEN
     
     
    The doorbell rang again.
    She sighed. “Dammit.”
    She wanted to open the envelope. She needed to look inside, to see what it was.
    “Elle?” It was Cash, calling from the door.
    She froze. Her heart slammed against her chest as her eyes shifted from the envelope to the door to her grandmother's bedroom. Quickly, she stuffed the envelope back in the top drawer and raced to the living room. She opened the door.
    He lifted his sunglasses and smiled at her. “Am I interrupting?”
    “No, no,” she stammered. “What’s up?”
    “I was just on my way to the office. Thought I’d swing by and see if you’ve had any contractors pop over.”
    “One,” she told him. “A flooring guy.”
    He nodded. “John Stafford?”
    “No. His brother.”
    “Oh, right.” He shook his head. “Bad break for Kevin, losing his job. I’m hoping they figure out a way to stay here.”
    It wasn’t what she expected a real estate agent to say. Most would be chomping at the bit to get their hands on that listing. But she was starting to realize that Cash Brady wasn’t most real estate agents.
    “You going to offer him your services for free, too?” she asked.
    He looked at me, puzzled. “What?”
    “Oh, I’m sorry. Not free. A hundred bucks.” She looked at him. “Maybe you loved him, too?”
    He grinned. “Nope. But I did take his wife to the movies. Before they were married, of course. Besides, they don’t own their house.”
    She didn’t tell him she knew this. She didn’t tell him they were the couple she was supposed to be nannying for. And she didn’t tell him it stung like hell when he’d said he dated someone else. She wondered when. Had it been immediately after she left? Or had he waited a while?
    “Elle?”
    She looked up.
    Cash was staring at her, a piece of paper in his hands. He handed it to her. A list of names and numbers. Her heart tripped just a bit at the familiar handwriting. Her grandmother’s had evoked feelings of warm nostalgia; his ignited something else. She remembered the love notes he’d written her, had tucked inside of her beach bag unbeknownst to her that summer before her senior year.
    “Just thought you’d want to know who I’ve contacted.” He looked around. “I meant what I said earlier. I can stay and work from here if you need me. I have my laptop in the car. An air card. I can work from here just