Just One Day by Sharla Lovelace Page B

back at him. “And at the time, it wasn’t about you, at least not to me. I didn’t know you were the owner of the diner that he was talking about. Why the third degree?”
    He looked away and shook his head. “Nothing.”
    “He just likes to talk, I think,” I said, assuming that maybe Jesse didn’t appreciate Jarvis putting his business out to strangers. “He told May that he misses his boat.”
    Jesse’s eyes shot back to me again, and he ran both hands over his hair as if they just needed something to do. “What else?”
    I shook my head. “Why?”
    He looked at me, hard, as if deciding on something, then gave a little head shake and appeared to switch gears. “Jarvis and his wife, May, were who I bought the diner from,” he said finally. “They’re good people.”
    “Oh, seriously?” I said. “Wow, they didn’t say anything about owning it. He started talking about that boat, and just—”
    “Kept talking,” Jesse finished, his face and voice softening. “Yeah, he loved that old boat. It’s been probably six years since he sold it to me, and he never stopped fussing over it. Making sure I kept up the maintenance and updated my tags.” He laced his fingers and stared at them. “Whether I was using it or not. He just couldn’t handle it anymore and didn’t want to see it go to waste.”
    “My dad used to judge people by their boats,” I said.
    His expression went thoughtful like he was recalling a memory. “I told my son something like that once. That a boat is an extension of the man driving it. Doesn’t have to be big or flashy, just solid and made of integrity.” He sighed with the memory, his eyes lost in it. “I taught him how to drive it, dock and launch, even how to fish in it long before it was mine. Jarvis used to bring us out, then let me borrow it when Jamie got bigger and it didn’t fit three comfortably anymore.”
    I liked how his face transformed when he spoke of his son.
    “So how old is Jamie now?”
    Jesse took a deep breath and let a couple of blinks pass. “He’s nineteen.”
    “Off to college somewhere?” I asked, sensing something wasn’t right.
    He shook his head and got up again, tossing his empty bottle onto the nearby chair. “He lives in Austin with my in-laws.”
    I frowned and waited for the explanation, but he looked antsy, like a pacing cat.
    “Did you have a falling-out?” I asked finally.
    He turned and met my eyes, startling me with the pain that shot out from his. “You could say that,” he said quietly. “He thinks I killed his mother.”

Chapter Six
     
     
    Okay then.
    I found myself transfixed once again by a gaze I couldn’t turn from. His eyes dared me to question, and begged me not to. I had no idea what any of it meant, but I did have a sudden fleeting regret that no one knew where I was.
    Somehow, even not knowing the man he became over the last two decades, I knew it wasn’t as it sounded. The fierce pain and rawness I saw in his face told me it was something else. Something deeply rooted and inherently private.
    I didn’t have a chance to say anything, because the sound of ice pecking the windows spurred him into action.
    “Hail,” he muttered, shoving nearby sneakers onto his bare feet. “Great.”
    I envisioned Brad’s car being deckled as well as drowned, and groaned. “What do we need to do?”
    “Right now—go check the windows and the water level, and here—” He opened a closet and pulled out another small cooler. “Can you go fill this one with ice to keep up here? Don’t know how long this’ll go on.”
    “Yeah,” I said, grabbing the cooler and following him down. For the moment I figured the activity was a valid distraction from the conversation.
    The view when we reached the bottom was pretty dismal. Even through the sandy glass, the sight of hail pummeling the new parking lot lake was rather intimidating. Especially the inconsistent directions it was doing it in. It appeared to come from every