The Fixer Upper: Golden Isles Series #3

By Lauren Clark

Maggie Summerville is looking for a fresh start on St. Simons Island, which means no drama, and no distractions. But when her plans for opening an island coffee shop hits a major roadblock, she's forced to ask for help from the aggravatingly-handsome contractor who keeps crossing her path.

Quinn Perry wasn’t planning on falling for the new girl in town, but one chance encounter with the vivacious and stubborn blonde sends his pulse racing. Despite his growing feelings, Quinn tries keeping his distance, focusing on his career, and his own romantic issues with his high-maintenance girlfriend.

But when chance keeps pushing the pair together at every turn, will Maggie and Quinn give in to the mutual attraction or let love slip away?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lauren Clark
• Release date: Oct 8, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005257033

Lauren Clark

Lauren Clark has been a voracious reader since the age of four and would rather be stranded at the library than on a desert island. In her former life, she worked as an anchor and producer for CBS affiliates in Upstate New York and Alabama. Lauren adores her family, yoga, and flavored coffee. She lives in Birmingham, AL. Visit her at authorlaurenclark.com.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Maggie

W hat do you think? Augusta Sanders smiled brightly. With a little work, I think it’s perfect for a coffee shop!

Maggie Summerville blinked and tried not to cough. With its peeling paint, sagging porch, and black metal roof trim, the building rivaled the Adams Family mansion’s spookiness.

Augusta, Maggie’s new realtor, waved a hand at the looming three-story structure. It’s a premium location on St. Simons Island. She tossed her hair over one shoulder and surveyed the building. It’s also an amazing price point.

Maggie pressed a fist to her lips, not sure whether to laugh or cry. If this was Elm Street, Freddie Kruger was undoubtedly inside. She shuddered. She didn’t want to think about Norman Bates’s towering Victorian home.

Augusta picked her way through the parking lot, leaving Maggie to trail behind. The agent lifted her cell, gazed down, and pursed her lips. With perfect shell-pink nails, she scrolled through her screen.

It checks everything on your list, she reported. More than three thousand square feet. It includes an apartment and a bonus office upstairs. She lifted a perfectly arched brow.

Maggie nodded politely, trying hard to focus on the building’s structural lines. The house did boast a broad, sprawling porch, intricate trim work, and floor-to-ceiling windows.

Augusta tapped her phone’s screen. There’s a full, roomy kitchen and a large deep freeze. The appliances are a little outdated, but functional, to the best of my knowledge. Augusta leveled a look at Maggie as though to make sure she was paying attention. Lots of room for customers. Plenty of room for parking. What’s not to like?

Maggie blinked and tilted her head, trying to envision her dream business housed in the shabby structure. After looking at five properties on the island, one hidden in a grove of live oak trees, she was exhausted. Soon they’d run out of daylight, too.

Imagine it with fresh paint and new shutters. It’ll be perfect, Augusta said, tottering slightly on four-inch heels. She adjusted her oversized Gucci sunglasses. The second floor has the apartment and office, with a third-floor attic for storage.

Maggie’s lips parted. If Augusta’s designer lenses transformed the building into perfection, she needed a pair. Right away. She swallowed and forced her brain to channel objectivity.

It does have… Maggie’s voice trailed off. She didn’t want to insult the agent by sharing everything in her head. Besides, a little hesitation never hurt.

Potential? Charm? Augusta chirped. She clapped her hands, making her giant diamond bracelet sparkle. That’s what I was going to say!

Right, Maggie replied. She swallowed. And are the owners motivated to sell?

Very motivated. Augusta lowered her sunglasses long enough to wink at Maggie. With an accepted offer and a small down payment for the building, you can rent the property until the deal closes. Live upstairs. Augusta paused and tucked a wayward lock of hair behind her ear. You will need a place to stay, right?

Maggie pinched the bridge of her nose. No long-term rent payments meant she could afford a property—this property—on the island, though she’d need a lot of help to restore the building to its former glory. And the area had only a few commercial properties on the market in her price range.

Augusta, seemingly undeterred by Maggie’s silence, smiled brightly. Hey, I’m positively melting. She fanned her face with a copy of the property listing. Come on inside, Molly.

Maggie tamped down a needle of irritation. As she held up a hand to shield her eyes from the sun, she forced her voice to sound light and airy. It’s Maggie.

Oblivious, the real estate agent paused and turned dramatically like a runway model. Did you say something, darling?

It’s Maggie, she repeated. Maggie Summerville.

Augusta’s mouth formed a small o. She blinked, her long lashes fluttering on her cheeks. So sorry.

Maggie hesitated, wiping a hand across her forehead. It was blazing hot outside. The shade offered relief, if she didn’t fall through the floor first.

Augusta navigated the steps, wobbling on each Prada shoe. The wooden planks creaked like a group of grandmothers complaining about the rain.

Maggie heaved a sigh and crossed the parking lot.

Augusta waited, holding the door wide open, still smiling.

Are they firm on the price? Maggie hesitated as she glanced up from the bottom of the stairs.

Augusta tapped her bottom lip. It’s been on the market for nearly two hundred days. I think they’ll take at least twenty thousand below asking.

With caution, Maggie ascended the stairs, careful to step around the significant cracks. Twenty thousand dollars less. Her pulse sped up. She did the math in her head. The number was better but not quite in striking distance.

Augusta crossed the threshold first, reaching for the light switch. After flicking it on and off, she huffed in frustration. I’m going to have to call the power company. I can barely see inside this place.

Maggie wasn’t surprised. The utilities, especially in the summertime, would be significant. With the owners juggling at least two mortgages, something had to give.

This property needs a little elbow grease and some love. The real estate agent ran a finger along one of the shelves behind the counter. The motion kicked up tiny dust whirls.

As the clouds settled, Maggie thought about the popular Fixer Upper show. She didn’t follow it religiously, but she had watched enough episodes to know that Chip and Joanna Gaines performed small miracles.

This project was another story, though. Bringing the structure back to life required a part-the-Red Sea effort. If the building were in Waco, Texas, Maggie wondered if the dynamic renovation duo would even touch the property.

The Gaines family could afford to be choosy.

Maggie could not.

Augusta continued examining the room, occasionally covering her face to sneeze. Nothing a few coats of paint can’t fix.

Biting her lip, Maggie scanned the four walls, assessing the size of the space as well as the area behind the counter. She did love the exposed brick walls and the golden pine floors. Through the long, narrow windows, she watched the sun sink into the sky, painting it in shades of lavender, fuchsia, and tangerine. She stepped closer to the glass. With some soap and scrubbing, the panes would sparkle.

As she gazed into the distance, she weighed the positives. The location was perfect, just outside the pier. It was a historic building, which likely meant tax breaks.

I know some remodeling experts, the real estate agent interjected, in case you’d like to tackle the renovations right away. Some of the contractors offer fairly reasonable pricing, but the work’s just as good, she added quickly.

Sure, I’d love that, replied Maggie, turning to face Augusta.

The agent smiled and held up her cell. Great, I’ll text you a few names now.

Maggie ran the numbers in her head again. With some luck and negotiating skill, she could come up with a twenty percent down payment. It was likely she could pay off the remaining loan in ten years. She sucked in a breath. Buying and running a coffee shop was her dream. She could do it.

The owners are moving next week, Augusta confided. They bought land on Sanibel Island ten years ago and have been pouring every cent into their dream home since then.

Clearly. Maggie nodded ruefully, surveying the outdated decor. As her eyes adjusted, they fell on the red checkered curtains and ceramic figurines. Large, framed beach pictures and fishing lures decorated the wall. Old street signs were nailed around the doorway, pointing the way to Jekyll Island, Savannah, and Jacksonville.

Maggie could sell the items at a yard sale, put them on eBay, or donate every last collectible. But none of it was staying. If she put down roots, she needed a fresh start from the ground up.

The real estate agent’s phone buzzed. Augusta lifted the cell, glanced at the screen, and raised an eyebrow. Excuse me for a moment?

Of course.

Augusta placed the phone in the crook of her neck, slung her bag over one shoulder, and headed for the exit. As she murmured into the cell, she stepped carefully outside.

The door groaned on its old hinges. After a beat, the wooden frame banged shut, sending a jolt through Maggie. She grinned, thinking of Freddy Krueger. No crazy maniac could creep through this place unnoticed.

She rubbed her neck, relieved to be alone, even for five seconds. Her thoughts tumbled around in her brain. She had nowhere to go, no job, and she knew no one on the island. Closing her eyes, she curled her fingers and toes. She refused to starve to death in a pile of self-made humiliation.

When the doorknob twisted with a squeak, Maggie’s eyes flew open in time to see Augusta reappear. The agent’s eyes lit up when she saw Maggie. I’ve got good news, she said, waving the cell back and forth.

Maggie perked up. Really?

The owners dropped the price. Forty thousand below asking. Also, they confirmed you could have immediate possession of the property with a good-faith check.

Maggie’s brow lifted. She wouldn’t have to find a hotel—or explain herself to nosy guests.

Yes, continued Augusta, lifting her chin. She put one hand on her hip and frowned. But the offer’s only good today.

Chapter 2

Maggie

T oday? Maggie repeated.

Augusta nodded. Yes. And there are two small caveats if you accept. The agent held up two fingers. First, you’ll have to take the property as is, which isn’t a bad deal.

Maggie crossed her arms and glanced around the room. It was a gamble, but it was an immediate roof over her head. What’s the other caveat?

Augusta twirled a lock of dark hair as she walked to the back door. She waved Maggie over. See those two buildings?

Moments later, Maggie squinted into the growing darkness, barely able to make out the pair of small, angular structures. When she’d confirmed the two buildings, she looked over at Augusta.

Sure, I can see them.

Augusta’s lips twitched. So… She paused. One is a storage shed, and the other is a workshop-apartment combination.

Maggie raised an eyebrow. Apartment combination? she echoed.

Augusta put both palms in the air between them. Before you panic, this is good news because it means cashflow.

The real estate agent took a step back and pointed to the larger building. Your tenant has a small business on the property. He runs a woodworking shop. It’s not full time, and the rent isn’t going to make you rich, but it is a regular income.

Maggie’s eyebrows shot up as she gulped quietly. A renter was a new wrinkle. Her brain raced with questions and concerns. Do I want a tenant? Who is this person? What is the liability?

Despite the immediate spike in her stress level, Maggie kept her voice light and breezy. So, it’s a lease. Long term?

Augusta nodded. From what I understand, the place is all of eight hundred square feet. The tenant’s signed on for three years and pays his rent on time. Direct deposit. She checked her phone. The monthly rent is one thousand and ten dollars, plus the tenant takes care of the utilities.

Maggie lifted her brows. Not a bad little takeaway. Twelve thousand dollars a year. A solid lease agreement practically guaranteed the money.

Do you know the tenant? she asked, feeling a bit betrayed. Had Augusta deliberately withheld the information? What else was she not mentioning? She laced her fingers together, trying to keep her worry in check. She needed to listen to what Augusta was saying.

Jason’s a dream, replied Augusta. "He’s best friends with my boyfriend, Quinn. They’re