“You better go back to bed,” Mamaw told her.

“I might do that,” Lucille said in a pant. “I am weary.” She reached out for the shackles.

“I’ll carry those for you,” Harper said.

Lucille turned her shoulder and took the shackles from Mamaw. “No, no, child. I got them. I want to carry them. I want to know what it feels like to be worn-out and still have to walk, carrying this burden.”

Chapter Fourteen

Dora received a text message from Devlin asking her to come by a house he was working on. He wanted her to see it and then join him for dinner.

It was easy to text back an enthusiastic yes. Dora loved houses, especially on Sullivan’s Island, where so many—large and small, historic and new—had unique settings, or views, or history. She hopped into the golf cart with a bottle of water and bumped along the road to the southern side of the island, checking the address. She turned down a side street that led toward the marsh. Many old live oaks created heavy shade cover, welcome on a steamy summer day. She checked the address again and came to a stop before a small cottage barely visible behind a jungle of overgrown shrubs and palm trees. The driveway had long since been converted to dirt. Revving the engine, she drove the golf cart up beside Devlin’s big truck. When she reached for her purse, she heard her phone ringing.

“Hello?” she said, expecting it to be Devlin. She was shocked when she recognized Cal’s voice.

“Dora? It’s me.”

“Yeah. What’s up?”

“Well, you never called me back.”

Dora cringed. She’d completely forgotten about him. “Oh, I’m sorry. I, uh, I’ve been really busy.”

“Oh yeah? Doing what?”

“Oh, uh . . .” She swallowed, thinking of an excuse. “Harper and I have started a garden. It’s been a lot of work.”

“A garden? In July? Are you sure you should be doing that kind of intensive labor? With your heart?”

“My heart is fine,” she replied, irritated that he still thought she was sick. “And we’re being careful. Anyway, I’m sorry I never called back. Is there something in particular you wanted to discuss?”

There was a pause. “Yes,” he said in that tone that implied she should have known there was a topic. “We were going to discuss whether you were going to move into the condo. With me.”

“I thought I was clear about that. I’m going to stay at Sea Breeze for the summer.”

“I thought you might change your mind. You see, there are problems at the house.”

Dora’s stomach dropped. Of course, that was why he was calling. “What kind of problems?”

“The painters say that there was water damage on some of the upstairs bedrooms. That they can’t paint, so they’re stalled. They’re guessing it’s from the roof. So now we have to have someone come in to assess water damage in the attic. It’s never-ending,” he said with a hiss of frustration.

“What do you want me to do about it? I’m out here on Sullivan’s. You’re in Summerville.”

“Dora,” he said, reining in frustration. “That’s why it makes sense for you to be here. The house is a bigger project than we’d anticipated. It needs someone’s full-time attention to keep the crews in line.”

“It’s not bigger than we anticipated,” she argued. “We always knew it was a big job, and that’s why we didn’t start, or at least that’s what you always told me. I’m going to say again what I told you at the lawyer’s office. Sell the house as is if you don’t want to take charge of the renovations.”

“We can’t do that. We’d lose our shirt.”

“We’ve already lost our shirt.”

“Dora, please. I’m up to my ears in work right now. Can’t you help me?”

Dora groaned inwardly. “Oh, all right. I’ll come to Summerville and take a look at the house. Make a few phone calls. But that’s it. I’m not moving into your condo, Cal. I’m not ready to go that far.”

“Okay, that’s fine. But you’ll call someone about the leak, right?”

She rolled her eyes and laughed shortly at his transparency. “I’ll call. Bye.” She ended the call and tossed the phone into her purse.

Dora stretched her arms over her head, trying to release the frustration from Cal’s phone call before she saw Devlin. She didn’t want Cal in the room between them, again. She heard the high hum of a power tool from inside the house and, curious, followed the noise to the front door. It had been left ajar.

“Hello?” she called out, poking her head in. It was hard to be heard over the roar of the power tool. She stepped inside and saw Devlin in goggles, standing behind a woodcutter and slicing what looked like a piece of wood paneling. She had to pause to take in the sight of Devlin doing construction. It was another side of him she didn’t know about.

“Hello!” she called again when he’d stopped.

Devlin jerked his head up and broke into a wide grin. He lifted his goggles from his head, shaking sawdust into the air, and stepped forward to offer a quick kiss.

“You’re here!”

“Just got here,” she said, brushing away sawdust from his hair. “What’s going on?” she asked, looking around the house with curiosity. The cottage had been gutted and was now in the process of a major renovation. A lot of work had already been done—new walls, cabinets, counters, appliances. Dora had dreamed of renovating her house in Summerville for so long that she always got a thrill at the sight of a renovation.

“This is a house I bought last year when the market dropped. Got it on a foreclosure. I’m renovating it in my spare time. When I’m done, I’ll put it back on the market.”

“You’re renovating it? I didn’t know you were a handyman.”

“A carpenter, thank you very much,” he said in the manner of someone who’d been doing it for a very long time. “That’s what got me in the real-estate business in the first place. I used to work construction—thought you knew that. I bought a fixer-upper back when I could afford anything on Sullivan’s, did all the work myself, then sold it for a big profit. I just kept on going, flipping houses, making profits. Found out I had a good eye for real estate.” He shrugged. “I was lucky and got in for the boom. The rest is history.”