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Laura suddenly thought of her sister and their petty argument. She hadn’t talked to her since that explosive phone call.
Edward stood silently, his back to her.
“I have a sister, and we’re barely talking right now. But if a storm had destroyed the only thing she thought might be worth living for, I’d go help her save it. Tomorrow.”
Laura knew that was true. She might have differences with Maddie, but that didn’t change the fact that they were blood. She also knew Maddie would probably show up in her time of need, even if she’d spend the next twenty years rubbing it in her face.
Edward let out a long sigh and shot her a short glance over his shoulder. “He probably won’t even accept my help. Even if I tried.”
“Leave that to me,” she said, hoping she could find a way to convince Mark to let his anger go.
* * *
BZZZT. BZZZT.
The next morning, Mark woke up to the sound of a loud buzz saw.
What on earth?
He sat up, glanced next to him and noticed that Laura was gone from bed.
“Laura?” he called to his condo but got no response. Was she in the bathroom maybe?
Bzzzt. Bzzzzzt. Bzzzzzzt. There went that awful saw again. He glanced at the clock and saw it was six thirty.
Who was working this early?
He fell back into his pillow and groaned. Where was the racket even coming from? It sounded like his living room, for goodness’ sake. Who was working this early?
He thought it might be someone making repairs to another condo, but why with a saw? Hammer, okay. But saw?
He sat up and rubbed his face, running his hands through his disheveled dark hair. There was no sleeping through that noise. He pulled himself from bed, wearing just a pair of gym shorts. He snagged a shirt and tugged it over his head and headed out his patio door.
He realized the noise was coming from his lit workshop.
Who the hell was in his workshop?
He padded over, wishing he’d had the foresight to bring a baseball bat. Looting was always a problem after bad weather but, he reasoned, what thief would use the tools he planned to steal?
Mark swung around the corner and that’s when he saw Timothy back on the working blocks and Laura standing in front of the boat. What the—
But she wasn’t the one with the saw. That was Edward, who happened to be on the deck, working to removing what was left of the broken mast.
“Hey!” Mark called. “What the hell are you doing?”
Edward stopped his work, cut the loud saw and raised the protective goggles on top of his head. “Too loud for you?” he asked.
Laura turned and rushed to him, putting her hands on his chest. “Before you say a word, I asked Edward to be here. He is going to help you fix this boat. You’re going to put aside your petty differences because right now, you both need each other, and if a hurricane can’t help you bury the hatchet, then I don’t know what will.”
“Technically, tropical storm,” Edward corrected.
Mark glanced at Laura and then at Edward, feeling numb. What was happening? Edward…helping?
“You can hate me again after I finish helping you restore this old heap,” Edward said, throwing a bit of sawed-off mast down to the heap of discarded splintered pieces.
“No. You. Me. The beach. Now,” Mark ground out, not sure if he was going to talk to his brother or punch him in the face.
“You want to fight? Fine, let’s fight.” Edward threw down his work gloves and stalked out to the open beach. Mark followed him, his hands balled into fists.
“No. Please. Mark!” Laura ran after him, grabbing his shirt.
“You stay here.” Mark’s voice was low and dangerous.
“Let me help,” Laura pleaded, tugging on his T-shirt. “Let’s talk about this.”
“No.” Mark whirled, feeling the venom all but choke him. He no longer knew who made him more upset. Why did Laura think all problems were solvable? Why did she think they could all get along? “You’ve done enough.”
“I was just trying to help. I was just trying to—”
“Well, don’t, okay? Stop meddling in things that aren’t your business.” Mark bit off the words, but they still found their mark. Each syllable landed against her like a blow, and she looked like he’d slapped her.
He felt a momentary surge of guilt then. He was being harsh, mean even, and he didn’t like it. Mark knew she meant well, but he was also tired of her trying to fix everything. Some things just remained broken, and that’s how life was.
He glanced at his brother stalking far out to the beach. When he looked back at Laura, he saw her eyes glisten with hurt. But he didn’t have time to apologize. Besides, she needed to learn to stop meddling.
