LITMIR.BIZ

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      Evie laughed. “I guess he doesn’t want to hear about family memories or kissing. It’s all by the book for him.”

      “Then I’d guess he isn’t having any fun,” Mel said.

      Evie smiled at her brother-in-law. “You should take home some of the wood when we cut this tree down. You could make a bench for your front porch and kiss my sister on it the rest of your life.”

      “That’s not a bad idea.”

      “I’m full of ideas,” Evie said. “At least, I try to be. As soon as this project opens and starts putting money back into the bank account, I’ll know how much I can afford on my hotel renovation.”

      “I thought you had the whole thing planned out?”

      She nodded. “Parts of it. Most of it, I guess. But there’s a wish list. We came in slightly under budget on the docks and restaurant here, but I’m afraid renovating a century-old hotel is going to present surprises.”

      Her construction superintendent had already warned her about the mysteries lurking in a hotel built when automobiles were a new invention. Was she making a huge mistake? Gambling on a possible payoff and a hopeful outcome just as her father had?

      “First things first,” Mel said. “We’ve got two weeks until the July Fourth weekend, right?”

      “Yes.”

      “We’ll get this tree down, open up the fire lane and finish moving the wall that’s too close to the electrical panel. The signs in the restaurant got done last week.”

      “Thanks, Mel. It’s nice to have the head of maintenance officially in the family.”

      “You need all the friends you can get.”

      Scott came out of the restaurant and balanced his clipboard on the hood of the fire department’s pickup truck.

      “Should we go make nice?” Mel asked.

      Evie shrugged. “We could ignore him so he’ll be more productive on the job. He’s on the clock.”

      “Which makes it twice as irritating when he writes up violations while he’s on your payroll.”

      “Maybe. But I’m still trying to stay on his good side because I need him to sign off on my hotel plans. And sooner rather than later.”

      “What’s the rush?” Mel asked. He kept his voice low as they both watched Scott write up his notes.

      Evie could guess what he was putting down. Inside that door, an electrical panel still sat too close to an interior wall. By only a few inches, but the inspector apparently considered it too close.

      “There’s a tight time frame,” Evie explained. “Especially since we can never count on what kind of winter we’re going to have here. Remember last year?”

      The marina project had faced numerous delays because of crippling snowstorms and record-breaking low temperatures. Windchills below zero and snow higher than the bumper of a truck made lousy conditions for working outside and staying on schedule. The hotel project was three times the size of the marina project, and weather-related delays could mean it would fail to open on time. And each day it was closed meant lost revenue. “Demo on the old wings has to start mid-August so we can prepare the ground and pour the concrete foundation before freezing weather slows us down. Even following the tight schedule Dan put together for us, we’ll barely make opening weekend next May.”

      Scott turned his attention to the fire hydrant behind the restaurant and then propped his clipboard against the wall, making notes. Even though they were only fifteen feet away, he ignored Evie and Mel. When Mel made a low grunting sound like an angry animal, Evie laid a hand on his arm.

      “I’ll go talk to him,” Evie said. “If we can work together, maybe we can get the restaurant open and start making money instead of losing it. And I think the gas lines for the docks are ready to open as soon as tomorrow if I get him to sign the permit.”

      “Good luck,” Mel said. He got in his blue maintenance pickup and pulled onto the outer loop.

      Evie walked over and leaned against the wall where Scott was still writing with a felt-tipped pen.

      “Did you see the new fuel line valve?” she asked.

      Scott nodded. Continued writing.

      “I’m hoping you’ll sign the permit so we can start selling gas to boaters right away.”

      “Signed it this morning,” he said without looking up.

      Whew. Her relief was stronger than her irritation at his definite lack of people skills. She wasn’t asking him to dance. She needed his official blessing for her project—a project that would provide jobs for dozens of locals waiting to start work in the marina. She’d tried to put their skills to use in other areas of the resort but it still made for an unnecessary strain on payroll.

      “And I’m sure you noticed the wall is being moved inside,” Evie added. Might as well get it all out there.

      “Uh-huh.”

      Fine. I’ll do all the talking. She really wanted to snatch his pen and his clipboard and toss them into the lake.

      “I appreciate the very clear signage you installed in the restaurant,” she said. “If there’s ever a fire in there, I’m sure all our guests will find their way out.”

      “That’s the idea.” Scott capped his pen, slid it into his chest pocket and tucked the clipboard under one arm. He looked at her, waiting.

      At least he made eye contact. Was it courtesy? Was he only being remotely congenial because she was his boss? How she would love to test that theory by firing him. But she hated to do that to his sister, Caroline, who had apparently gotten all the friendly genes in the family.

      Maybe now was the time to mention her next project and invite him to look at the plans early so there would be no surprises. Maybe they could be friends, not enemies.

      She risked a glance at his face. A deep vertical line cut a groove between his eyebrows as if frowning was his natural expression. Perhaps not friends. Where was the slightly warmer version of Scott she’d seen as he shared lunch with his sister?

      Clearly not evident while he was in Chief Inspector mode.

      Still, it couldn’t hurt to plant a seed about her hotel plans. Evie opened her mouth to tell him she wanted to ask his advice on an upcoming project, but she didn’t get the chance. The radio on his hip beeped and Scott pulled it against his ear in one swift movement as if he’d done it a thousand times. His dark eyes remained on Evie as he listened.

      “Dispatch to SP Fire. Possible MI, Space Race queue lines.”

      Abruptly shifting his attention away from her, Scott raced to his truck, tossed his clipboard through the window, grabbed a large zippered bag and started running.

      Evie took off after him, barely keeping pace as they headed for the park entrance at the marina gate. “What’s an MI?” she asked as she ran alongside.

      “Heart attack,” Scott said. He keyed his radio and talked as he ran. Evie overheard him discussing whether or not to drive an ambulance onto the midway.

      Heart attack. The same thing that had robbed her family of her father three years ago. She prayed the dispatcher was mistaken.

      “The park is open,” she said, huffing out the words as she ran. “You can only do that if it’s life or death.”

      “I’ll make that decision,” he said.

      Evie was about to say something in response such as “I own the freaking park, maybe I’ll make the decision,” but Scott cut her a swift glance as he dashed past the summer employee at the gate.

      “When we get there.”

      Maybe he was right. That’s

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