Still the One (Deep Haven Collection #1) - Susan May Warren Page 0,2

on sticking around, Nathan. I need to sell the house to cover my grandfather’s care.”

Nathan raised a brow, waited while the woman behind the counter carried over two tall coffees and slid one in front of each of them, along with a donut for Cole. “Thank you, Marie.” Nathan lifted his cup, swirling it in a circular motion, as if to stir the contents. He turned back to Cole. “I figured you’d be ready for something hot to drink after your long drive.”

“Ma’am.” Cole gave her a polite nod and took a sip, letting the hot liquid warm him. “What is this?”

“It’s called a Megan. Very popular around here. Chocolate and caramel latte.”

The name stirred inside him, but he dismissed it. “It’s good. Thanks. I had forgotten how cold it gets here.”

Nathan set his drink down and leaned back in the chair. “So, you haven’t seen your grandfather yet?” His voice didn’t hold judgment, just a gentle prodding curiosity.

“No.” And he had zero intention of adding him to his itinerary.

“My understanding is his Alzheimer’s is fairly advanced.”

Cole shrugged and rubbed his hand across the smooth-planed wood table. “My memory’s still good.” Like the memory of cowering in the corner. A child at the mercy of a monster. Maybe justice was finally being served.

Nathan’s eyes stayed on him.

Fine. “Let’s just say that after my parents died, living with my grandfather wasn’t an ideal situation. It was a dark year.”

“That’s right. You lived here for a year after your folks died,” Nathan said, giving a nod to two women who passed the table on their way out.

“Yeah. I was twelve. Just starting seventh grade.”

“You must have made a few friends.”

“A few. I’m not sure anyone will remember me.” And frankly, he didn’t even know if Megan was still around. “My family used to come here every summer when I was growing up.”

For the second time, Megan walked into his brain and sat down. I was hoping I’d see you back here. The summer isn’t the same without you.

And his life hadn’t been the same without her. But that was long ago, and he’d been a child. She’d probably left town after high school, following her big dreams.

Nathan tugged a business card from his wallet and handed it to Cole. “This is the number of the care center. I used to volunteer there. They’re good people. Trustworthy.”

Cole appreciated Nathan’s kindness, but the last person he was worried about was his grandfather. He shoved the card into his pocket. He still wasn’t sure why his grandfather had named him as Power of Attorney.

“So, what am I going to do about this tenant?”

“I don’t know what you can do, but it’s Friday. Maybe let it settle over the weekend.”

“Maybe I can talk to her. Tell her my situation…”

“Good luck. She’s pretty stubborn.” His phone buzzed. “I need to go before my wife comes looking for me. Tonight’s our anniversary.”

A wife. Waiting for him. Cole had to stop what-iffing about what a family might be like. Rebecca had destroyed all those hopes.

Laughter erupted from a group of teens huddled over their phones in the corner nook.

Nathan scribbled a few notes. “I’ll get started on the listing. I’m sorry this is going to take longer than you intended. These go to your grandfather’s house.” He slid a set of keys across the table. “I’m not sure what condition the house is in. I haven’t been inside. Will you be staying there?”

“I guess.” Cole had planned this as a pass-through stop. An unwelcome requirement in his life, like a root canal.

“Or I could call the Christiansens at Evergreen Resort and see if they have a room available.” Nathan stood, waited for an answer.

Cole remembered the Christiansen family. Big. Rowdy. And tight. If he’d ever had another real family, he’d have wanted it to be like them. He’d witnessed more than one skirmish between the young brothers, but he’d also shared a few dinners around their table. No matter what, they stuck together.

“That won’t be necessary.” He’d make his own plans. Besides, they were heading into the weekend and Cole knew exactly where the Christiansen clan would be at zero-nine-hundred on Sunday. If he was going to have a sitrep with God, it would be on his own terms.

“Okay. Let’s connect early next week.”

“Sure. Thanks again.” Cole shook his hand before Nathan headed out the door, holding it open for a boy, about ten. He wore a blue jacket that looked a little big for him and carried a