Their Unexpected Love

“Long as you don’t mind the wind in your hair,” Logan said. “I didn’t expect company, so I left the top to the Jeep back home in my garage.”

“I’ll manage.”

A moment later Logan waved away a valet to gesture toward a black Jeep Wrangler parked up the road between two vehicles of a more expensive type. As promised, the top was off, exposing the seats to the elements.

“Your chariot awaits,” he said as he trotted around to help her climb into the passenger seat.

Thankful she’d worn her hair up today, Pippa slid the seat belt into position and sat back to enjoy the ride. Only as the gates of Granny’s neighborhood were closing behind them did she truly consider the fact that she’d just left a party with a man she hardly knew.

In Vine Beach.

In broad daylight—or rather what remained of it as the sun teased the edge of the watery horizon.

Then again, it was Vine Beach. And it was Logan Burkett, a man she’d be working closely with at least until the end of the restoration project.

Pippa let out a long breath, grasping the edges of the seat as Logan made an abrupt turn and headed up the highway toward the downtown area. A strand of hair dislodged, and she quickly tucked it back into place.

Landmarks whizzed by. First came the historic Berryhill Farm, the Civil War–era mansion that Leah and Ryan owned. The main house on the property had been reduced to rubble after a devastating fire several years ago, so the couple now lived in a renovated caretaker’s house and raised palomino horses on the lush grassland location.

Just past that on the beach side of the road was Pop’s Seafood Shack and the collection of pastel-colored rental homes where she currently resided. Pippa thought to point out hers, then caught herself. No sense in giving Logan more information about her than he already knew.

So she held her comments until the cottage where Eric and Amy Wilson lived appeared in view. What was once a tiny home had been recently remodeled to include an addition that purportedly doubled the size of the home.

“Such a pretty house,” she said as she watched the rose-covered trellis that marked the front walkway slip past.

“Thanks,” Logan said as he spared her a glance. At her questioning look, he continued. “Amy didn’t want to move, but with the new baby there wasn’t enough room for the two of them and four kids.”

“Yes, I know,” Pippa said, having been part of the group of ladies who had given Amy her baby shower. “I didn’t realize you were an architect, as well.”

“I’m not.” His attention remained focused on the road even as a muscle tightened in his jaw. “I just like to play around with that kind of stuff. You could say I’m self-taught.”

“I see.” Pippa tried to make light of what had suddenly become a touchy topic. “Well, you’re very good at it. Have you ever considered going back to school and—”

“Thanks, but no, I don’t think so.” Logan pulled the Jeep to a stop to await the green light before turning onto Main Street. “Look, I appreciate the compliment, but I’m doing just fine hammering nails and sawing boards.”

Though his look was likely supposed to convince her otherwise, his expression told Pippa there was more to it. Had she known him any better, she might have asked. Instead she kept her silence and her curiosity.

They circled past the courthouse and then a line of buildings that stretched the distance between the Vine Beach Community Center to the north and Grace Church to the south. In between was a collection of hundred-year-old brick structures punctuated with the occasional upstart 60’s-era glass front office. Smack in the middle of the entire grouping was the former Branson’s Bakery, the place where Pippa would finally put down roots.

It was a good thing, she reminded herself as the familiar dread threatened. Women her age were having babies and lamenting the careers they’d given up. Thus it was high time she let go of her dream of a full-time skate park ministry and do something productive.

She would still be involved in the ministry even though her main responsibility would be to Granny and the ground-floor gallery Pippa would be managing for her. The budget allowed for the hiring of at least two part-time employees, so her evenings and weekends would still be mostly available. Pippa let out a long breath. Breaking the news to the kids who had christened her with the nickname of Flip, thanks to her skating prowess, that the R10:14’s hours would be shortened was not something she’d been looking forward to.

Eventually she’d have to tell them, though. A thought occurred. Until the store was completed, her time was her own. Which meant she could spend as much of that time at the skate park as she wished.

Pippa glanced at Logan as an idea formed. “So,” she said slowly, “how long did you say the work was going to take?”

“I didn’t.” He signaled to turn. “But I’m thinking if I get the materials in when they’ve been promised, I can turn over the keys to your loft in three weeks. Two and a half if I hurry.”

Unexpected disappointment hit her hard. She’d hoped for at least another month of uninterrupted time at the skate park before she had to divide herself between ministry and commerce. Two or three would be better, as it would give her time to see the teenagers had a safe place to spend their time through the summer months.

“I see,” Pippa said as brightly as she could manage.

“The store itself will take a little longer. We’re retrofitting what’s there, so there are fewer issues with what’s behind the walls. Still, I’m going to say that’s another month or two of work, depending.”

Her hopes rose. Several months would be wonderful. Longer, even better. “Depending?”

Logan nodded. “Never know what’ll happen on a job site. Lots of variables. Until this morning I had no idea we’d be hiding a broken satellite dish.” At her confused look, he continued. “Apparently the storm knocked it over. The historical commission will never approve of it dangling in full view of people on the street. Nor would your grandmother.”

“True.” Pippa twisted the sliver bracelet on her wrist and tried to sound casual. “And this new idea you have? Will that add to the time line?”

“At least two weeks, maybe three or four depending on what I find when my helper and I start tearing things apart. Of course, if you’re in a hurry I might be able to come up with a less labor-intensive plan to speed things up.”

“No,” she said quickly. Too quickly, Pippa decided when her companion gave her a surprised look. “What I mean is, I’m comfortable in my rental, so there’s no need to hurry,” she amended. “And I know Granny will want the job done right.”

“Okay, but understand I always make sure the job’s done right.”

Their gazes collided, and Pippa gripped the edge of the seat. Oh my, he was handsome. “Of course,” she managed.

And he would. Any guy who practically had his construction updates automated to deliver at precisely noon every Friday did not seem like the type who would take shortcuts.

Logan shut off the engine and pocketed the keys. “Before we go in, there are a couple of things you need to know. First, be careful where you walk. The building’s solid as a rock, but that doesn’t mean the floor doesn’t have some soft spots. I don’t want you ending up on the first floor by any way but the stairs, got it?”

Pippa nodded as she exited the Jeep. “Got it.”

“And you’re not exactly wearing safety shoes, so watch out for nails. Some of the demo has already been done, so just—”

“Be careful,” she said along with him. “I will. And for the record, I’ve done a little construction work in my time, so I’m pretty good at avoiding on-the-job injuries.”

By the sound of his chuckle, Logan apparently did not realize she was serious. Maybe someday she would take him down to the R10:14 to show him how she and a few others turned the empty warehouse into a haven for skateboarders and in-line skaters. She’d certainly pounded her share of nails and gained almost as many bruises and splinters in the completion of what the kids liked to call phase one of the park.

“And for the record, I do own a pair of safety shoes,” she said just as Logan closed the door.

Granny had insisted once she spied the warehouse and the work that Pippa would be doing. As a compromise, however, Pippa had allowed one of the kids to customize the ugly black boots. An expert at tagging whose efforts were now confined to the interior of R10:14 thanks to a brush with the law, one of the skaters—a fellow named Rico—had worked his magic with spray paint to give her a stunning pair of boots with her nickname emblazoned on them. She still wore them sometimes, though the need had long since passed.

Logan met her on the curb, then led the way. The redbrick facade had been scrubbed clean, and the marble cornerstone that proclaimed the name of Branson’s Bakery and its opening year of 1905 now gleamed bright white.

She ran her fingertips over the carved brass plate beneath the door’s arched handle, its golden color faded and in dire need of polish. “Can you imagine how many hands have touched this over the years?”

He gave her an appreciative smile as he brushed past her to unlock the door. “Come on,” Logan said, and gestured toward the murky shadows of the area that had once been the bakery’s showroom.

Though Pippa had walked through the building with Granny on several occasions, she’d not been inside since the renovation work began last week. After the crew had removed the awful acoustic tiles that were added some fifty years ago, the ceiling was twice the height of the rooms upstairs, giving the space an expansive feel.

“Kept the heat up near the roof,” Logan said as he brushed past her. “The tall ceilings down here, that is.” He walked over to the staircase and looked up. “Too bad the apartment upstairs doesn’t have these ceilings. Guess Mr. Branson didn’t much care if Mrs. Branson stayed cool in the summer.”

“It was likely that Mrs. Branson was down here working alongside her husband,” Pippa remarked.

“You could be right,” Logan said with a nod as he turned his attention toward the stairs.

While Logan studied the sturdiness of the staircase, Pippa turned around to see stripes of sunlight slanting through the dust-streaked window and racing across the worn wooden floors. Closing her eyes, she could imagine what it would have looked like new in 1905. And what it might look like again in a few months.

She opened her eyes to spy Logan looking at her. He’d draped his arm over the banister, his palm resting on the ornate newel post. “If I’d realized I’d be showing this to you today, I would have brought the preliminary drawings. After you see my idea, I’ll make any updates you think would be acceptable and email the documents.”

“That would be perfect,” she said. “But for now, just tell me what you’re thinking for this space.”

Logan stepped into a shaft of sunlight and smiled. “All right, I guess we can see well enough. Over there,” he said, gesturing to the far corner of the room, “is where I thought we would put the cashier’s counter.”

Pippa followed the direction of his gaze and nodded. As Logan continued his explanation, her attention drifted from the room in which they stood to the man who would transform it. From his sun-streaked hair to the tanned and muscled forearms showing beneath the rolled-up sleeve of his dress shirt, time had been kind to the kid who’d disappeared from Vine Beach High a year after Pippa arrived. Just about the same time her confidence in ever fitting in fled, as well.

“Pippa, are you coming?”

“Oh, sorry,” she said as she hurried to follow Logan toward the once-grand staircase that snaked up the brick wall with sagging risers and more than a few missing spindles.

“I checked and it’s sturdy, but step carefully,” he reminded her.

Emerging onto the second-floor landing, Pippa could see demolition work had begun here, as well. Though the hardwood floor, in need of a new coat of varnish, had only been covered with paper, most of the walls were now stripped to the studs.

The difference in the amount of light and the feeling of openness was remarkable, especially in the spot she had designated as her reading corner. With a view of the beach at the far end of Main Street, the corner would have a window seat fitted neatly into a bookshelf. It was something she had dreamed of since reading A Little Princess and imagining what it might be like living in an attic room with dormer windows. While these were not dormers, they would do.

“Like it?” Logan asked, a pleased expression on his face.

“I love it,” she said. “You were right about knocking down these walls.”

“I hope you’ll think that about what I brought you here to see.” He nodded toward a door at the opposite end of the hall. “Come with me.”

“To the attic? What’s up there?” she asked, though she trailed behind him.

Logan paused halfway up the stairs to glance over his shoulder. “Just wait and see.”

At the top of the stairs, he reached for a flashlight left hanging on the rafter. “Stay close behind me,” he warned, “and don’t walk anywhere but on these beams.” He gestured to the large expanses of lumber that crisscrossed the open flooring. “Ready?”

At her nod, Logan set off. She followed a step behind. Up here the air was thick with the scent of neglect, punctuated with a musty smell that made Pippa sneeze.

He reached back to steady her. “Can’t have you falling through the ceiling and landing on a perfectly good floor. Might crack the boards.”

His brow rose as he waited for her giggle. Instead she sneezed again, then offered a smile. “I’m fine. Keep going,” she said as she fell back into step behind him.

Logan led her to the window on the easternmost side of the attic. “This is the part that’s going to take some imagination.” He lifted the window sash and instantly fresh salty sea air replaced the century-old smells. “I should have asked before I brought you up here.” He met her gaze. “Are you afraid of heights?”

“You’ve never seen me on the half-pipe,” she said as she thought of the last time she’d skateboarded on the giant structure in the back of the warehouse.

Apparently Logan hadn’t heard of a half-pipe. Or maybe he just couldn’t imagine her on one. Either way, his expression remained blank.

“The answer would be no, I’m not,” she added.

A nod, and Logan reached outside the window to lean to the right. “This is the fire escape. The ladder’s completely safe. Even the fire marshal agrees.”

Logan’s mention of Ryan Owen, Vine Beach’s fire marshal, reminded Pippa that she needed to stop by and pick up the check for the specially designed Bibles he and Leah were donating to next Saturday’s skating event at R10:14.

“Pippa?” He looked down at her feet. “You’re probably going to need to kick off those sandals for this. Construction debris won’t be a problem where we’re going.”

Putting aside thoughts of tomorrow, she shrugged. “And where is that, dare I ask?”

His grin was immediate. “The roof.”

Pippa did as he asked, then watched as he slipped out the window and onto the fire escape. The breeze that she’d smelled inside now whipped against her as she gripped the warm metal handles of the ladder.

At the top of the stairs, Logan offered her his hand and she took it. “Turn around.”

She did and then gasped. From where she stood, she could see all of Vine Beach. From the lighthouse and marina to the high school and the farmland beyond, the expansive vista was astonishing.

“Oh, Logan. It’s beautiful.” Her eyes caught the sharp drop-off at the edge of the building and her stomach did a flip-flop. “Kind of dangerous, though, don’t you think?”

“As it is now, I wouldn’t recommend spending time up here,” he said. “If I were to put up a rail over there and bring up a staircase through an entrance in the roof over there with planters circling the perimeter, I could make this a nice rooftop deck. Minus the satellite dish, which really ought to be taken down.” He paused and seemed to be waiting for her opinion.

Pippa took it all in, the ideas, the view and the enthusiasm of the man beside her. “Yes,” she agreed as her gaze fixed on a familiar sight—the roof of the warehouse that housed R10:14. “I like it, but I wonder if just a deck is enough.” She tore her attention away from the warehouse and fixed it on Logan. “What about some sort of arbor? Or trellis? Something to shade part of the roof from the sun. If we’re going to do this I’d really like it to look more like an oasis than just a plain deck.”

Logan’s grin was slow but worth the wait. “Definitely,” he said. “I can draw something up, but every project you add will take extra time.”

She gave the area another sweeping glance. “Take all the time you need, Logan,” she said. “I’m in no hurry at all.”

“Are you sure your grandmother will go for this extra expense? Not only are we talking about more time and materials, but there are also the costs for getting the blueprints altered. Then there will be another trip before the city council to get everything approved.” He shrugged. “The only good part is that so far the building has not been claimed by the historical commission. If that were to happen before we turned in the plans, everything would take much longer.”

Pippa contemplated asking how to get the building put under consideration by the commission and then decided it might be too obvious. “Leave Granny to me,” she said instead. “Just get busy planning something amazing.”

“Amazing,” Logan echoed. “Got it. And you’re sure you don’t mind the extra time this thing will take?”

“Absolutely certain.” Pippa grinned and then realized Logan was watching. “You’re wondering why I’m happy about a delay?”

A lift of his shoulder and he met her gaze. “I never ask a woman what she’s thinking.”

Chapter Three

Logan waited for her smile and was rewarded by laughter instead. “So,” Pippa said as she swept an errant strand of hair back over her ear, “how exactly does a guy make the career change from missionary to carpenter?”

“Involuntarily” slipped out of his mouth before he realized what he said.

That got her attention. Logan stifled a groan as he waited for the barrage of questions that usually came along with any admission of what he had once done and what now occupied his days.

“Yes, I suppose that happens, doesn’t it? But then the Lord tells us our plans won’t always be His,” she said instead.

How many times had he heard that one? Or the statement about how everything happened for a reason? That one usually had him wanting to demand just what reason a loving God might have for taking the life of a woman whose only crime had been to listen to him when he insisted that she be on the flight that day.

Of course, he’d never actually said those things or responded to any of the other comments of those who were so sure of God’s good plans. Nor would he say them now. Only a few of his closest friends, fellow widowers at the church’s Starting Over group, had heard any of them.

“Granny says your missions work has to do with kids.”

Logan thought of the orphanage, of the little ones and teenagers he hadn’t seen in more than three years. Some would be grown by now, others likely unrecognizable from the babies and toddlers they once were. “Yes, it did.”

“Did? As in the past, then?”

Logan recalled the planes he and his wife had ridden, skimming the treetops before dropping down for a landing that almost instantly had them surrounded by happy and eager young faces. Resolutely he pushed away the image. “Yes.”

Pippa turned to face the beach and then lifted her hand to shade her eyes. “Oh?” she said almost as an afterthought. “Would it be prying to ask why you’re not involved in anything like that now?”

It would, but he told her anyway. “I’ve got obligations in Vine Beach to see to first.”

She glanced over her shoulder to meet his gaze. “And then what will you do?”

Go back to Zambia. That’s where he’d left his heart. And yet the longer he was away, the less he felt the Lord leading him back.

The truth was, for the first time since he gave his life to Christ, Logan had no idea what God wanted him to do after his late wife’s property was sold and the money distributed. So until He gave other instructions, Logan intended to put all his effort into making that sale happen.

Pippa must have sensed he had no answer, or perhaps she realized he did not want to reply. Whatever the reason, she offered a wry smile and then nodded toward the spot where the satellite dish lay askew. “So, tell me more about your thoughts on a covering for the deck portion of the roof. Is that possible up there or would the wind make a structure like that a bad idea?”

And so it went, a smooth transition from the uncomfortable to the comfortable. Only later when Logan had deposited Pippa at her grandmother’s doorstep did he wonder if she had managed that transition on purpose or by accident.

“Thank you for taking the time to show me your idea,” she said as she climbed from the Jeep, her hand still on the door handle. “You probably noticed I like it very much.”

And I like you.

The words came so close to the tip of his tongue that he actually bit down on his lower lip to keep from speaking. He glanced beyond her to where several people were loading catering equipment into the back of a Pop’s Seafood Shack truck.

“Thank you for missing out on the party to come along and see it firsthand.”

Her laughter caught his attention. The wind had whipped strands of her very proper do into a more casual style. In the waning light from the afternoon sun, Pippa Gallagher looked absolutely stunning. When she smiled and offered a goodbye, Logan found himself wishing he could stay just a few minutes longer.

“So I’ll see you at the meeting next week,” she said as she closed the door.

“Wednesday morning. Ten sharp,” Logan said through the open window. “And I’ll have the preliminary sketches to you by Monday afternoon.”

Pippa rested her hand on the car door and leaned slightly forward to meet his gaze. “I would hate to be responsible for making anyone work on what is supposed to be a beautiful spring weekend.”

Logan shrugged. “Nothing better to do.”

“No?” she said. “You don’t happen to skateboard, do you?”

“Nope. I prefer to keep my adventure to the water.” At her confused look, he said, “Surfing.”

“Oh. Well, surfing and skateboarding aren’t much different. You balance on a board either way.” Pippa tucked a golden strand behind her ear and, for the first time, he noticed she wore tiny pearl earrings.

“Different enough.”

Logan thought of the surfboard he was working on in his garage, the one he’d probably sell as soon as the property issue was settled. If he worked quickly enough and the weather cooperated, he might get a few decent days of surfing from it before it was gone.

“You sure you don’t want to give it a try? I’ve got this thing Saturday and I...” Pippa shook her head. “Your expression speaks for itself.”

“Does it?”

A nod. “You’re frowning, Logan.”

“Oh, well...” He forced a smile. “How’s that?” he said while trying to keep his grin in place.

“Worse.” A warm wind ruffled the palms standing sentry on either side of the gate. “However, since you ignored my little incident with the umbrella, I’ll pretend otherwise.”

He patted his front pocket where the second paper umbrella still resided, and Pippa laughed. In the distance, a gull shrieked. She looked up to spy the white bird circle and then dive out of sight behind the house.

“Thanks for saving me from the speeches,” Pippa said when she turned back toward Logan. She seemed to study him for a moment.

“I get points for that, right?” he called.

“Yes, but you lose them for not being brave enough to try a skateboard.” She gave him a suspicious look. “Or have you changed your mind?”