Mending Fences. Jenna Mindel
the braid off her shoulder. “I just do.”
Laura took a bite of the macaroni salad. “Wow, this is really good.”
“Thanks. But I think it still needs something.”
Jack watched in amazement at the easiness between them. His daughter didn’t warm up to strangers. Lately, she didn’t warm up to anyone. “So, how’d the bat get in the house?”
“I left the screen door open,” Angie said.
Laura looked at him. “It was an accident. I think the bat was looking for a place to ride out the storm. We’re supposed to get a real soaker. We need the rain.”
Just then a flicker of lightning brightened the room and a crash of thunder shook the house. The fluorescent light overhead dimmed, flickered and then went out.
“There goes the power,” Laura whispered. “I hate it when this happens.”
Her admission surprised him. The bat in the house didn’t rattle her, neither did his daughter. Other than spider webs, Jack didn’t think Laura Toivo scared easily. Yet the sounds of a storm building outside made her anxious. “How long does it stay out?”
“Who knows?” Laura got up from the table, leaving her sandwich half-eaten. She rummaged through one of the kitchen drawers and pulled out some taper candles. Sticking a few into skinny juice glasses, she lit them and placed a couple on the table. “We’ve got plenty of candles if you’d like some to take to the apartment.”
“That’d be great.”
“Yeah, great,” Angie muttered.
“It’s only for a while, Ange.” Jack squeezed his daughter’s hand.
She pulled away. “Where am I going to put my clothes?”
Another flash of lightning followed by a deafening crack of thunder and Laura jumped. She focused on her plate, looking uncertain, almost shy. “It’s late and probably too dark to get unloaded in the apartment tonight. There’s plenty of room if you’d like to stay here tonight.”
Jack stared at her. They were practically strangers. “We couldn’t put you to all the trouble.”
“Really, it’s no problem.” But she sounded nervous.
Another crack of thunder boomed while lightning danced through the windows. The wind whipped and, with a roar, a deluge of rain fell followed by heavier beats. He heard the clicking of ice balls ricocheting off the side porch.
Angie ran to the screen door, water spraying in from outside. “Dad, we can’t go out there. It’s hailing.”
“Close the door, Ange.” He glanced back at Laura who twisted her napkin. She looked tense.
“To be honest, with a storm like this, I wouldn’t mind the company.”
He knew Laura’s invitation had more to do with her fear of storms than anything else. Cocky, capable businesswoman, Laura Toivo was scared of a thunderstorm. An unexpected urge to protect her assaulted him. But staying overnight under the same roof couldn’t be a good idea. He’d prefer to keep his attractive neighbor at a safe distance across the lawn and driveway.
Angie noticed his hesitation. “Come on, Dad. How are we going to find anything in the dark? Let’s just stay here with Laura.”
“Okay, okay. We’ll stay. Now, could someone pass me another sandwich?” But something more than hunger twisted his gut. His magnetic spark of interest flashed into full-blown attraction.
Chapter Five
“Your room is this way.” Laura gathered sheets from the linen closet. Angie followed her down the hall cupping a flickering candle.
She opened the door to her old bedroom just as lightning streaked across the sky, brightening the room. The downpour had settled into soft rain, but the storm still lingered.
“It’s huge,” Angie said. “This was yours?”
“All mine.” Laura walked to the bed and pulled off the frilly coverlet. “Being an only child has its perks.”
Angie set the candle down and helped her strip the bed.
“My bedroom’s tiny.”
“Small can be cozy.” Laura shook out the sheets. She remade the four-poster canopy bed with Angie’s help, aligning the old white-ruffled spread back into place.
Laura sighed. Potential lay everywhere in this house, but her mother refused to see it. The windows overlooked the backyard, complete with a view of Lake Superior. Laura had done a ton of dreaming staring out those windows.
“The bathroom is next door.” Laura placed a couple towels and a washcloth on the desk then scooped up the discarded sheets.
“Where’s my dad sleeping?” Angie asked.
“A spare bedroom next to this one.”
“Great, I’m beat,” said a masculine voice.
Laura’s heart skittered to a halt along with her footsteps. Jack filled the doorway. The front of his T-shirt showed wet spots from washing their dinner dishes. She tried not to stare. “I’ll get more clean sheets.” She hurried out into the hall, turning to peek back in. “Good night, Angie.”
“Night, Laura.” Angie smiled.
Laura dashed for the closet. Stuffing the old bedding into a hamper, she grabbed fresh linens for Jack. Her breath came quick as if she’d run up a flight of stairs.
She entered the spare room and lit an oil lantern. She could hear the muffled voices of Jack and Angie through the wall. Even if Jack made her feel a little unsettled, it was definitely a comfort having them here. She’d sleep better knowing someone else was in the house.
Laura pulled off the quilt and sheets of the twin bed, remembering how Angie had perked up when Jack had called her brother, Ben, to check on him after the storm had settled.
Laura had always wanted a brother or sister—someone to talk to or even fight with, anything to cut through the silence of growing up.
“Thanks again. You didn’t have to do this.” Jack’s voice was low, but unsure. Self-conscious.
“But I think Angie’s glad. Sort of a transition before the ‘barn.’” Laura made quote marks with her fingers.
He laughed softly. “You’re probably right. Can I help with that?”
She felt him lean toward her and her pulse picked up speed. “No problem, I got it.”
She tucked the top sheet under the corner of the mattress then reached for the quilt. He bent to grab it, too. They were close. They both straightened. A low rumble of thunder shook the ground, and Laura dropped the quilt.
“You sure you’re okay?” The corners of Jack’s mouth twitched.
“I just don’t like storms. They make me nervous.”
“I thought salespeople were fearless.” Jack picked up the quilt.
“We’re a neurotic bunch, but we act like we’ve got it all together.”
Jack laughed, a deep, rich sound.
“What about you? Isn’t there anything you’re afraid of?” she asked.
Jack spread the quilt over the bed then sat on the edge. “Thirteen-year-old girls and eighteen-year-old boys out on their own for the first time.”
Laura looked into his troubled eyes. He worried about his kids. She imagined all parents did that—some more than others. But Jack admitted his concerns. He didn’t act like he had all the answers and that made him that much more appealing. “Why not stay in Lansing? Wouldn’t that have been easier?”