Read Online Storms of Passion by Lori Power - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lori Power
Tags: Contemporary, On the Road
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I’m saying is she chartered the trip. She went to the effort of finding us on-line and booked a two-week holiday that included learning the skills necessary to sail as part of a crew. We always schedule enough free time before and after to accommodate the necessity for site-seeing and the boat trip. I’m sure she can manage.”
His mother’s face softened into a smile, and he knew he had lost the battle. “Just offer, okay? If she says no, fine. You’re off the hook. But make the offer to show her around.”
Tuck sighed, holding up his hands in surrender. “Fine, you win.” He continued down the stairs. “Suppose I’ll have to foot the bill for this too,” he mumbled. “Flowers weren’t enough…”
“What’s that?”
“Nothing, Ma, nothing. See you later.”
Tuck didn’t think he had to be a companion simply because Vivian didn’t bring one. All this fuss for some woman who came alone. Spending unnecessary cash was no longer part of Tuck vernacular. “No one else gets this kind of treatment.” He argued plaintively for his own hearing.
“Did you say something?” his mother called from the top of the stairs. When he didn’t answer, he heard her footsteps move toward the kitchen door. “See you in just a bit.”
Tuck heard the squeak of the door as his mother left the house. His computer monitor binged, announcing more e-mail. No longer interested in conquering the mountain of paperwork on his desk, he stood, leaning his hands on the mahogany table, letting his head swing between his shoulder blades. The descending silence reminded him of the one project he wanted to get done while the house was deserted. He shook his head, welcoming the excuse to do something besides sit at his computer. Taking the stairs two at a time, he went outside and into the garage to grab his tool belt.
The proximity of the kitchen door to the flight of stairs to his office echoed the sounds of the coming and goings of everyone through the stairwell. It wasn’t so much the constant banging of the screen door that irked his nerves as the squeaking that sounded like bagpipes on their initial sigh when the kitchen door opened. While motivated he might as well take care of the banging.
The old family house was a parcel of additions. It had been added to with each generation of MacLean’s living in it. His generation had just finished modifying, renovating, and expanding the old home to include offices in the basement for the business.
Many, many years ago, Old Captain MacLean, the original, did all his business from his ship or in the Tavern. Back then, business was completed anywhere from the wharf to the kitchen table, never ironically enough in the actual warehouse where the ships were built, restored, and repaired. Upon Tuck’s re-entry to the business, his family had discussed building a loft in the warehouse for offices and such, but his mother was so use to working at the kitchen table, directing family traffic, and taking care of family members that she couldn’t get everything done from the warehouse—so far away.
So far away…just down the road. “Not even a five-minute walk,” he muttered, pushing the garage door open with his shoulder. Even this door had a mind of its own, loose in the winter allowing drafts and powdery snow to seep inside, and in the warmer weather it stuck. Inside the garage he continued his internal rant. Comply with the boss . He rolled his eyes heavenward, praying for patience. Though his father ran the company, he left all the details to his wife and from there she delegated. It seemed his father’s main objective was keeping Lynette happy, and he and his brother, Nate, followed suit.
The rusted toolbox banged against his leg when he retraced his steps back to the porch. No matter how much grease was applied the damned thing continued to squeak. Tuck decided new hinges were in order. Even that small task wouldn’t be easy because they had to have the right look .
“We’re a
His mother’s face softened into a smile, and he knew he had lost the battle. “Just offer, okay? If she says no, fine. You’re off the hook. But make the offer to show her around.”
Tuck sighed, holding up his hands in surrender. “Fine, you win.” He continued down the stairs. “Suppose I’ll have to foot the bill for this too,” he mumbled. “Flowers weren’t enough…”
“What’s that?”
“Nothing, Ma, nothing. See you later.”
Tuck didn’t think he had to be a companion simply because Vivian didn’t bring one. All this fuss for some woman who came alone. Spending unnecessary cash was no longer part of Tuck vernacular. “No one else gets this kind of treatment.” He argued plaintively for his own hearing.
“Did you say something?” his mother called from the top of the stairs. When he didn’t answer, he heard her footsteps move toward the kitchen door. “See you in just a bit.”
Tuck heard the squeak of the door as his mother left the house. His computer monitor binged, announcing more e-mail. No longer interested in conquering the mountain of paperwork on his desk, he stood, leaning his hands on the mahogany table, letting his head swing between his shoulder blades. The descending silence reminded him of the one project he wanted to get done while the house was deserted. He shook his head, welcoming the excuse to do something besides sit at his computer. Taking the stairs two at a time, he went outside and into the garage to grab his tool belt.
The proximity of the kitchen door to the flight of stairs to his office echoed the sounds of the coming and goings of everyone through the stairwell. It wasn’t so much the constant banging of the screen door that irked his nerves as the squeaking that sounded like bagpipes on their initial sigh when the kitchen door opened. While motivated he might as well take care of the banging.
The old family house was a parcel of additions. It had been added to with each generation of MacLean’s living in it. His generation had just finished modifying, renovating, and expanding the old home to include offices in the basement for the business.
Many, many years ago, Old Captain MacLean, the original, did all his business from his ship or in the Tavern. Back then, business was completed anywhere from the wharf to the kitchen table, never ironically enough in the actual warehouse where the ships were built, restored, and repaired. Upon Tuck’s re-entry to the business, his family had discussed building a loft in the warehouse for offices and such, but his mother was so use to working at the kitchen table, directing family traffic, and taking care of family members that she couldn’t get everything done from the warehouse—so far away.
So far away…just down the road. “Not even a five-minute walk,” he muttered, pushing the garage door open with his shoulder. Even this door had a mind of its own, loose in the winter allowing drafts and powdery snow to seep inside, and in the warmer weather it stuck. Inside the garage he continued his internal rant. Comply with the boss . He rolled his eyes heavenward, praying for patience. Though his father ran the company, he left all the details to his wife and from there she delegated. It seemed his father’s main objective was keeping Lynette happy, and he and his brother, Nate, followed suit.
The rusted toolbox banged against his leg when he retraced his steps back to the porch. No matter how much grease was applied the damned thing continued to squeak. Tuck decided new hinges were in order. Even that small task wouldn’t be easy because they had to have the right look .
“We’re a
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