The Mighty Quinns: Jamie
But Jamie had argued that it offered intriguing possibilities to provide prefabricated homes to the homeless. There’d been a time in his life when safe and warm housing wasn’t always a given, and he’d been searching for the opportunity to do something to help others in the same situation.
And so the Habikit was born. The materials for a complete two-hundred-square-foot home would be packed in a box and shipped to wherever it was needed. They’d designed each kit to be a module that could be expanded to make a larger home for a reasonable price. Sam and Rick and Jamie worked to make the kit simple to construct, with a minimum of tools and equipment. They’d also focused on making the kits “green” and using recycled materials whenever possible, achieving a nearly net-zero carbon footprint.
It had been a labor of love for the three of them, and after a year of designing, they’d built their first module together, donating it to a homeless housing project in Minneapolis. The tiny home had garnered a multitude of awards, along with the interest of investors. But those investors were looking for proof that Jamie and his friends could make a profit. So they’d devised phase two—using the concept to build a vacation home.
The sale of modular vacation homes would provide a major source of funding for the nonprofit homeless project. But it wasn’t enough to make up a brochure with an illustration. Investors wanted to see a real home built in a natural setting and they were in danger of losing their most important investor if the project wasn’t finished within a month.
So Jamie had set out to lease a piece of waterfront property. Once he’d obtained the proper permits, he’d build Habikit’s first multi-module home, documenting it along the way with photos and videos for the instruction manual.
“Excuse me? Can you help me?”
Jamie turned to find an elderly woman standing behind him. Her pale blond hair was swept into a tidy knot and her smooth skin made it impossible to guess her age. She wore a canvas coat, khakis and knee-high wellies.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t work here.”
She smiled, her blue eyes twinkling. “I don’t need your expertise. I just need your eyes. You wouldn’t think I’d have to carry a magnifying glass around with me, but I can’t read the directions.”
“I can help you out with that,” Jamie said, taking the package of glue from her fingers. He read off the instructions, and when the woman realized it wasn’t what she was looking for, he helped her find an epoxy that would work better.
“Thank you for your help.”
“I was happy to come to your rescue, madam,” Jamie said.
She held out her hand. “Celia Macintosh,” she said. “And what’s your name, young man?”
“James Quinn. But everyone calls me Jamie,” he said.
“Jamie, I couldn’t help but overhear,” she said. “You’re looking to lease some land?”
“I am,” Jamie said. “And it has to have lake frontage. It’s hard to find someone willing to rent a piece of lake property. Especially for the price I can pay.”
“Mr. Quinn?”
Jamie turned to see a middle-aged man approach. He was dressed in a comfortable sport coat and a neatly pressed shirt. His graying hair was shaggy and he looked like he’d been taking a nap. “Mr. Murphy?”
The real estate broker held out his hand. “Walt Murphy. What can I do for you?”
“Nothing,” Celia said. “Mr. Quinn doesn’t need your help anymore.” She cleared her throat. “As I was saying, Mr. Quinn, I have a lovely little spot that I might be interested in leasing. To the right person.”
“Since when do you have land to lease, Miss Celia?” Walt asked.
“Never you mind.” She gave Jamie a coy smile. “Come along, Mr. Quinn, we have business to discuss.” She handed the package of glue to Walt. “Walter, say hello to your mother for me. And get yourself a haircut!”
“Miss Celia, I seem to recall that your property is held in a trust. You aren’t authorized to lease it to a third party,” Walt said. “Maybe Mr. Quinn should talk to your granddaughter before you make any decisions. Miss Regan knows best.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Celia said. “I can make these decisions on my own. I don’t need Regan’s help. And I do have property of my own. I have Maple Point.”
Walt frowned. “You’d consider selling the point? But I thought you’d—”
“Walt, you know there’s no decent property left on the lake. Unless you were going to try to sell that raggedy little piece of swampland that you own over on the western shore.” Celia turned to Jamie. “Why don’t we go look at my property?”
“All right,” Jamie said.
As they started toward the door, Walt grabbed Jamie’s arm. “Everyone around town loves Miss Celia. We look out for each other here in Pickett Lake. If you do anything to hurt her, if you take advantage of her, the whole town will kick your ass.”
“I appreciate the warning,” Jamie said. “I have a grandmother who I care very much for and if it were her, I would have the same concerns as you do.”
Though his grandmother had appeared in their lives too late to save them from most of their troubles, she had provided a steadying influence to Jamie, as the youngest in the family, during his high school years.
“Well, good, I’m glad we got that cleared up,” Walt said.
Jamie followed Celia out to the street. She withdrew a pair of leather gloves from her pocket, then pointed to a pale yellow Mercedes parked down the street. “Tell me, Mr. Quinn, what do you intend to build on my land? A nice little summer cottage for your wife and children?”
Jamie chuckled. “No,” he said. “I don’t have a wife. Or children.”
“Really?” She smiled. “I’m surprised. Why is that? You seem like a very nice man. Handsome. Successful.”
“How do you know that?”
“You’re dressed well. And you’re interested in my property, which won’t come cheap.”
“I’m planning to build a model home, a modular design that my company produces. We’ll use the home for photos and to show investors. And when we don’t need it any longer, in three or four years, we’ll take it down and return the land to its original state.”
“I could lease you the land,” she said. “But what if I wanted to keep the cottage? Maybe you could just leave it where it was?”
“You’re a very shrewd woman, Miss Celia.”
“I am.”
Jamie helped her into her car, then jogged across the street to his pickup. He made a U-turn and tucked his truck in behind the Mercedes, following her down the main street and along to Shore Road, where they maintained a lazy pace through the tight curves that cut through the thick woods.
He recognized the route. It had been the same path he’d taken that morning on his jog. His mind flashed back to his encounter with the brash but beautiful photographer.
He’d meant to ask about her around town, see if anyone knew who she was. But until now, he hadn’t been sure he’d be staying in Pickett Lake. The resort community was quite close to Minneapolis, which made it an ideal location to build the model quickly. But it was also a small town, and he’d been aware that the chances of finding available and affordable land he could lease would be small. Running into Celia had been a godsend. And if he did secure a piece of property here, maybe he could get to know the intriguing photographer.
He remembered that she was beautiful, and that the color of her eyes had been mesmerizing—a deep, emerald green. And her voice had been soft and melodic, as if she could persuade anyone she met to do her bidding.
Even now, he could imagine that voice, teasing at his ear, saying his name, convincing him to let down his guard, to surrender to his—
Jamie stopped himself. This was crazy. He hadn’t asked the woman’s name because he’d thought he was leaving town. Besides, he was the kind of guy who didn’t like to be tied down. He made it a point to avoid messy romances. He preferred women who wanted nothing more than a night or two of physical pleasure with long intervals between. But this woman was far too beautiful to settle for no-strings sex. He could imagine that she had men hanging on her every word, men lining up to date her. Men ready to pledge their lives to her.
Hell, she was probably married. Or involved. Why hadn’t he lingered a bit longer and introduced himself?
The brake lights on the old Mercedes flashed and Celia quickly slowed the car and pulled it into a narrow paved driveway, not far from where he’d met the photographer. Maybe Celia knew who she was. Jamie made a mental note to ask her just as soon as it wouldn’t seem strange.
The house, or more accurately, the lodge, was made of logs and set in a wide clearing that overlooked the lake. Though he knew there were neighbors around, the trees were so thick that it gave the illusion of complete solitude and privacy.
Celia pulled to a stop in the wide circle drive, then elegantly stepped from the car, smoothing her hands over her hair. Jamie had noticed her air of wealth in the hardware store, but after seeing her house, it was clear that Celia didn’t need the income from her land to be financially secure.
Jamie hopped out of the truck and strolled over to stand next to her. “This is quite a place,” he said.
“My late husband, Kenneth, built it so we could have the whole family here during the summers,” she explained. “But everyone has gone off in different directions, and my husband passed two years ago. The only time the house is full is at Thanksgiving, Christmas and on my birthday in July.”
“How many children do you have?” Jamie asked.
“I have five children and seventeen grandchildren,” Celia said. “Let’s walk out to the point first, and I’ll show you the land.”
They walked around the house to a wide stone terrace that offered a picturesque view of the lake. A second-story deck surrounded the back of the house and stairs led up to a wall of windows. “This is beautiful,” Jamie said. “Like paradise.”
“I used to think so. Now it’s just a big, empty house filled with memories.”
Jamie pointed to a small building close to the lake. “Is that a boathouse?”
“No, that’s a guest cabin. It was on the property when we bought it. My husband and I lived there while we were building the lodge.”
“I need a place to stay while I’m building the model,” he said. “Would you consider renting the cabin?”
“I suppose I could. The furnace isn’t working and the plumbing is turned off. But I could probably get it ready. When would you want to move in?”
“Well, I have to get the permits to start building, and that could take a few weeks. But I have to finish before the end of October, or the weather is going to get bad and our investors might get antsy. So I’d probably be back in mid-October?” He laughed. “But I haven’t even seen the point yet. Maybe we should start with that.”
As they walked along the lakeshore, Jamie explained the goals of his company, the need for simple ways to provide housing for the homeless and how lake cottages would help fund their altruistic aims.
Celia listened intently, asking questions along the way. As he explained, her enthusiasm for the project seemed to grow.
Once they arrived at the point, Jamie could tell it would be perfect. Now all they needed to do was come to terms and hope her family didn’t object.
2
REGAN FUSSED WITH the folds of the pretty crocheted baby blanket, then stepped back to check the composition of the photo.
A local family had booked her new baby package and she’d spent the afternoon shooting the young couple and their infant daughter. They’d begun outdoors among the bright colors of fall, and now she was finishing up with mother and baby relaxing in a rocking chair in the nursery.
“There,” she whispered. “Now, just turn your head slightly and look out the window.”
Regan focused on the sleeping baby, her gaze taking in the precious details of the little girl’s features—the long lashes, the tiny nose, the Cupid’s bow lips. She swallowed hard as the usual flood of emotion hit her. It always did in moments like these, whenever she was shooting a baby.
After Jake, she’d given up her dreams of a fairy-tale marriage. And she was content with the decision. She couldn’t imagine ever allowing herself to be that vulnerable again. But along with giving up on marriage, she’d also given up on children of her own in the near future. And occasionally that still stung.
Someday, if she still wanted a baby, she’d have one. She didn’t need a husband, though she would have to find someone to donate the genetic material. But how hard could that be?
As she peered through the camera, her mind drifted back to the man she’d met on the road a few weeks ago. Whenever she had a spare moment, she couldn’t help but think about him. He’d been just about the most exciting thing to happen in her life in the past year.
She’d asked around town, a few discreet questions here and there, but no one had heard of any strangers staying in town. She’d thought he might be the new owner of the Hamill cottage, about a quarter mile down the road from her grandmother’s. The place had sold recently and he’d come from that direction. Her grandmother would have known the man if he’d been her new neighbor. She made it a point to acquaint herself with everyone who lived in Pickett Lake.
But it was sometimes best for Regan to keep her personal life to herself. Ceci had a tendency to become too invested in whomever she saw as potential husband material for Regan. The moment Regan showed interest in a man, her grandmother began preparing the guest list for the wedding. No matter how many times she’d explained that she wasn’t planning on ever getting engaged again, Ceci tried to convince her to give love just one more chance.
She snapped off a few more shots of the mother and child, then moved to a new angle, clicking the shutter until she was satisfied she had what she needed. “We’re done,” Regan said. as she placed the lens cap back on her camera.
Amy Farrell slowly stood, taking care not to wake her baby. “Won’t you please give me a peek?”
Regan shook her head, moving around the nursery and searching for items that would make good still-life shots. “No. I never let anyone look. It’s why you hired me. I find the best shots and I’ll make them beautiful. I promise you won’t be disappointed.”
Amy smiled. “All right. Well, thank you. And call me when they’re ready. We want to pick one for our Christmas card.”
Amy wandered out of the nursery, her daughter still asleep in her arms, and Regan packed up her things. As she hauled her gear out to her car, she pulled her phone from her jacket pocket.
Her grandmother had called twice over the last few days to invite Regan to dinner. She’d texted her grandmother that she was too busy editing recent wedding shoots, but would come just as soon as she had a free evening.
Though she had a small apartment above her storefront in town, Regan spent about a third of her nights at her grandmother’s. She knew how lonely Ceci got and how much she enjoyed cooking for her, so whenever she had a break from work, she’d make the short drive to the lodge.
Regan usually tried to have dinner with her grandmother at least twice a week, but with her fall wedding schedule and a trip to New York a couple weeks ago for an industry show, it had been nearly three weeks. When she got inside her car, she dialed her grandmother’s number.
She had a few days before she needed to go through the photos from the baby shoot. And the wedding she’d been scheduled to photograph on the weekend had been canceled last month.
Ceci’s voice mail picked up and Regan waited to speak.
“Hi, Nana, it’s Regan. I just wanted to say that I’m finally free for dinner tonight. I just have to make a quick stop at the hardware store to pick up batteries for my camera and then I’ll be right over. Call me back if you need anything from the store and I can grab it. See you soon. Love you.”
Regan turned the car in the direction of the hardware store. She was cutting it close; Walt Murphy closed his doors at exactly 5:00 p.m. and she had three minutes to get the special batteries he carried for her equipment.
She pulled up in front of the store just as he was coming out. “Thank God you’re still open,” she cried.
Walt chuckled and pointed to the door he’d just closed. “We’ll be open at eight tomorrow morning.”
“I just need a few of those cadmium batteries. They don’t carry them at the grocery store and I wanted to get some sunrise shots tomorrow for the fire department calendar.”
“Well, as a volunteer fireman, I suppose I’ll have to make an exception.” Walt reopened the door. “I’m glad you stopped by. I wanted to talk to you about your grandmother.”
“My grandmother?”
“Yes,” Walt said, holding the door open for her. “She was in the store a few weeks ago and she happened to meet this stranger named Quinn. He’d stopped by to see me, looking for a piece of land to build on. Next thing I know, she’s offering him Maple Point.”
Regan gasped. “Our Maple Point?”
“Yep. I figured she can’t go leasing or selling land that’s in a trust, but then I found out that piece of land belongs to her. She bought it herself way back when. I was gonna call you, but then I figured it wasn’t my place to butt into family business.”
Regan grabbed the batteries she’d come for and handed Walt enough money to cover the bill. “Thanks for telling me. I appreciate it.”
“If she wants to sell Maple Point, I know I can get her top dollar if she’ll let me list it.”
“She won’t be selling that land,” she assured him.
Regan cursed beneath her breath. Since her grandfather had died, two years ago, her grandmother had been at loose ends. The family had urged Celia to sell the lodge and buy something smaller, but Celia had insisted on keeping it for the family, hoping to recreate those perfect summers of the past, the house packed full of three generations of the Macintosh family.
Since Regan was the only family member living in the area, it had become her responsibility to sort out any problems that Celia had. She had always been close to her grandmother, so it was never a burden. But Celia Macintosh could be stubborn and she was determined to make her own decisions, however cockeyed they might be.
This was definitely a strange turn of events, Regan mused. And if she’d invited a stranger into her life, then it was dangerous, as well. As Regan hurried back to her car, she pulled her cell phone from her pocket. But once again, there was no answer at the lodge.
This was her fault! She hadn’t been to see Ceci in three weeks, leaving her vulnerable to someone who might take advantage. If her family found out, there would be hell to pay. If Ceci had already signed some of the land away, Regan would have to get the lawyers involved, and that meant a call to her father.
The sun was already down as she navigated the curves on Shore Drive. Soon the first snowflakes would fall, and in another month, winter would be looming. When the weather changed and the holidays were past, Regan and Ceci headed south to her grandmother’s condo in Scottsdale.
Ceci enjoyed the warm weather and her Arizona friends, and Regan had weddings booked beginning on New Year’s Eve and nearly every weekend through the end of April. On the first of May, they packed up the car and headed back to the lake.
Regan watched for the red reflectors on the trees, and when she saw them she knew the lodge was just ahead. The entrance was marked by two stone pillars, and as she steered her Subaru wagon onto the narrow asphalt drive, her headlights created eerie shadows on the surrounding trees. Ahead, the lodge was lit up from top to bottom, a habit that her grandmother had adopted her first night alone in the house.
The adjustment had been hard on Ceci. Her grandmother had been only seventy-five years old when her husband had died. She’d expected to have more time with the man she’d called her husband since age nineteen. But life didn’t always work out as people dreamed, as Regan had learned all too well.
She pulled the car to a stop and turned off the ignition. Grabbing her bag, she hopped out and jogged up to the front door. Regan had her own key to the lodge, but she usually announced her arrival by ringing the bell.
“Nana?” she called as she walked inside. “Nana, it’s Regan.”
A few seconds later, Ceci walked in from the rear of the house. Her appearance was shocking, causing Regan to gasp out loud. Since her husband’s death, her grandmother had gradually lost her flair for fashion, dressing in simple clothes in somber colors, pulling her ash-blond hair back into a tidy knot. But tonight she was wearing a flowing caftan in neon pink and tangerine orange. Her hair was styled in soft curls around her face and Regan was stunned at how young she looked.
“Nana,” she whispered. “You’re...stunning.”
Ceci smiled, then twirled around. “This old thing? I haven’t worn it in years.”
“You did your hair.”
“Is the style all right? I know it’s not fashionable to tease one’s hair anymore, but I couldn’t help myself.”
“You look lovely.” Regan hesitated for a split second before she asked the obvious question. Why had Ceci gone to so much trouble? Regan drew in a slow breath. “What’s the occasion?” she asked.
“I met a lovely young man at the hardware store a few weeks ago,” Ceci said. “He’s working on a very important project. Changing the way we think about housing. He has some papers for me to sign, so I’ve invited him for dinner tonight. Since you’re here, you can join us. Why don’t you go tidy up while I get things ready? It wouldn’t hurt for you to fix your hair and put on a little lipstick.”
“Is this the man you want to lease Maple Point to?”
“Walt Murphy should mind his own business. And so should you. If I choose to lease or sell Maple Point, then that’s my decision—not yours.”
“Do you even know who this guy is, Nana? He could be a con man, a swindler, one of those creeps that preys on elderly women with money. A wolf in sheep’s clothing!”
“I haven’t lost my all my senses,” Ceci said. “I checked with our family attorney and Mr. Quinn seems to be exactly who he says he is. I never would have invited him to stay with me if I thought he was some sort of...ne’er-do-well.”
“You invited him to stay here?” Regan asked.
“I offered to rent him the guest cottage. I could use the extra money.”
“Nana, there’s no reason for you to have to take in boarders. You have plenty of money. And if you’re lonely you can always call me. I’ll come and spend the night.”
“I know, dear,” she said. “But you’re busy with your own life. And I need something to do with mine. Something to look forward to.”
“And that’s serving dinner to some stranger?”
“He’s not a stranger,” Ceci said. “He’s a lovely man and I’m sure you’ll agree when you meet him.”
“Which I plan to do right now,” Regan said. “When will he get here?”
“Oh, he’s here already. He’s upstairs,” Ceci said. “I thought it would be nice if we dressed for dinner. Your grandfather and I used to do that and it always made dinner seem so much more special. He didn’t have a dinner jacket, but I found an old one of your grandfather’s and he said he’d make do.”
Regan groaned inwardly. It was clear her grandmother was already infatuated with this man. Dinner jackets and intimate meals for two? Someone needed to put a stop to this before Ceci got hurt, and it seemed like Regan was the only one capable of doing it. “I’m just going to go upstairs and introduce myself to him,” she said.
“He’ll be down in a few seconds. Surely you can wait.”
“No,” Regan said. “I don’t think this can wait.” With that, she turned on her heel and started for the stairs.
When she glanced back at her grandmother, she saw a worried expression on her soft features. If this man was hoping to take advantage of her grandmother, Regan would find out. There were so many unscrupulous people in the world, people capable of ruining another person’s life, people capable of stealing a person’s identity. She would never allow that to happen to her grandmother. No matter how handsome or charming the man was.