Newport Harbor House

by Cindy Caldwell

  Newport Harbor House

  Cindy Caldwell

  Copyright © 2019 by Cindy Caldwell

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by Cindy Caldwell

  Chapter One

  For the first time in years, this summer was going to be all about Jen.

  She’d been trying her best to contain her excitement, but felt like a kid struggling to stay in bed longer on Christmas morning. She’d packed the car with everything she needed—bathing suits, ice chests, beach umbrellas—for her long-held dream of a summer with her two best friends at her family’s California beach house. She’d picked up her long-time friend Faith, who’d immediately searched her phone for their traditional Beach Boys playlist that they only played when they were going to Newport, and they’d been humming along to California Girls for almost the whole drive down, as silly as that was. She didn’t even really like the Beach Boys normally, but it’s what they always did, every summer, and both of them were having trouble sitting still as the beach drew closer. And now it was literally just around the corner.

  But suddenly it became just too much for her to keep inside, and she didn’t care if she sounded silly or not.

  “I see it! I see it,” Jen exclaimed as they crested the small hill at Pacific Coast Highway and Newport Boulevard, and headed onto the peninsula.

  “Darn it. I wanted to see it first,” her friend Faith said, squinting to see Catalina Island off in the distance, out across the Pacific.

  They both laughed and high-fived each other. “I don’t think either one of us has been the first to spot it in years,” Faith said. “It’s always been one of the kids. I’m glad it was you. You’ve been waiting for this forever.”

  And Jen had. She’d been coming to the beach house that her great-grandparents had built almost a hundred years before since she was a little girl. And she’d brought her kids every summer, and she was looking forward to bringing her own grandchildren.

  But that would be later. Widowed when her boys were small, she’d raised them on her own and if she did say so herself, she’d done a pretty good job of it. Her oldest, Michael, was married now, and her youngest had just graduated from college and left the week before for an internship in Boston.

  So, this summer was all hers—with her best friends, Carrie and Faith—and she was looking forward to it with every fiber of her being. Long walks on the beach, sleeping in, Friday night happy hours—just what the doctor ordered after decades of being the responsible one, all on her own.

  And she’d finally have some time to fix up the old house, too. She’d worked in a design shop for years, and had just recently begun doing some odd design jobs for some friends—and friends of friends—and she couldn’t wait to give the old house some TLC that had long been lacking. Her friend Faith was eager and willing to help, although she’d still be working a few days a week since she’d agreed to take a summer assignment in her kindergarten classroom. She did have a week off in between regular school and summer school and could stay, but then would have to go back. But it was better than nothing, and they were excited about their plans of some new curtains here, some new pillows there.

  Nothing that cost too much, though, as her brother and father—her grandmother had left it to all three of them after her mother passed away—weren’t as excited about fixing up the old place as she was, and certainly didn’t want to put any money into it. But she knew her Nana would have wanted her to, and she’d been watching as many DIY shows as she could and hoped to do it on the low budget side.

  She’d rolled down her window to take in a big whiff, the sea air wafting through the car as they meandered down the Newport Peninsula, passing the piers jutting out into the sparkling surf.

  “When can Carrie come over?” Faith asked, just as they passed their friend’s dental practice.

  “She said she was closing up shop early, so hopefully sooner rather than later,” Jen said, swatting at what she thought was a fly near her ear. It took her a moment to realize that whatever it was was warm and wet, and it took her a moment to remember that the only thing that hadn’t gone exactly right was the puppy in the back seat.

  “Daisy, no,” Jen said to the puppy before she rolled her window back up.

  Faith laughed. “I don’t think she understands no. Tell me again how you ended up with Max’s new puppy? And why she’s coming with us for the summer?”

  Jen groaned. Getting stuck with a puppy had been the last thing she’d expected, but when Max had been offered a fantastic internship across the country right after he’d graduated, she hadn’t had the heart to say she wouldn’t look after the puppy. She was pretty cute, after all, and she was sure they could manage.

  “Ugh. You know why,” she said to Faith as she listened to Daisy’s tail happily thumping on the back seat.

  Faith reached behind her and scratched the puppy behind the ears, which resulted in a faster rhythm of her tail thumping the seat.

  “It won’t be so bad. She’s really cute, and it could be a lot of fun.”

  Jen smiled but gave her friend a sideways glance. “Says you, who is going back home next week. I’m going to be the one walking her early forever more—Monday morning. And Tuesday. And Wednesday.”

  Faith laughed and patted her friend on the shoulder. “Yep, for June, July, August and September, too. It’ll be good for you.”

  Jen realized that Faith wasn’t wrong about that. And looking on the bright side, it was a good reason to go for long beach walks when otherwise, she might not have been so dedicated.

  “Uh, thanks,” Jen said with a laugh. “Easy for you to say.”

  “I’ll help on as much as I can. You know I will. Thanks for inviting me, even though I have to work part of the time.”

  “Don’t be silly. It wouldn’t be the same without you, even if you can’t stay for all of it,” Jen said, and she meant it.

  Just as they were pulling onto their street, her phone buzzed in the console. Jen took a glance at it and frowned.

  “You want me to answer that for you?” Faith asked, reaching for the phone.

  Jen shook her head. “No. It’s my dad, and I really don’t want to talk to him at the moment.”

  Faith looked at her quizzically. “Why not?”

  Jen frowned. “Apparently, he and my brother got together to talk about the beach house and I wasn’t invited.”

  “Not invited? That’s odd. You guys always talk about that stuff together.” Faith was quiet for a moment. “I
have to say, I was really worried that after your mom—well, that you all might decide to sell or something.”

  Jen nodded and gripped the steering wheel a little more tightly. “I’m a little worried about that, too. They had a big meeting around Easter. My dad said there was nothing really to talk about, but I don’t buy it. I know they don’t want to put any big money into the house, but hopefully I can do enough little things to make it look better. Or newer. Or something.”

  Faith smiled. “The house is old, granted, but it has a quaint, lived-in feel even if it is outdated. And I can’t imagine it not being in your family. And they all love it, too. How does the calendar look for this summer?” It was a given that Jen’s brother’s family might come and go, but Faith didn’t mind. There was plenty of room, and now that she thought about it, they hadn’t come down much in recent years.

  “I called my brother to see who wanted to book for which weeks this summer, and nobody wanted to. Not even his kids. Not sure what’s going on. But for now, we just get to spruce it up, pack up some of Nana’s stuff and just enjoy the weather. The cooler weather.”

  “Well, that’s a relief. I’ve been looking forward to it for months. I couldn’t wait for school to get out.”

  “Same here,” Jen said. “I can’t believe it’ll be our first time without any kids. None at all, except for special occasions, maybe. I’m sorry you can’t stay for the whole summer.”

  “Wish I could stay the whole time. But you know how it is. Saving up for retirement.”

  “I know. Much as you love teaching, it must be getting old,” Jen said.

  Faith laughed. “Definitely. And I’m getting old, too. At least it feels that way.”

  “Nah, not yet. We’re in the prime of our lives. Fifty is the new thirty—or so they say. And all the kids are up and out. Everything’s going well. We get to just enjoy.”

  “For now, anyway. They really didn’t invite you when they talked about it?” Faith asked.

  “Well, not exactly not invited. But they did it at a time they knew I couldn’t be there, and I just want to enjoy being here for a little bit. I’d asked them if they were willing to spend a little money on some fabric, and maybe paint. They’ll probably just say no. So, I don’t want to know that yet. Tonight, it’s a sunset happy hour on the deck with my two best friends. Whatever they have to tell me can wait, at least until tomorrow.”

  Chapter Two

  Carrie Westland said goodbye to her last patient of the day—Mrs. Thurston, of the Laguna Thurstons, whose teeth sparkled in the sunlight—and hung up her white coat on the back of her office door. She rubbed her hands together with sanitizer and watched out the window as Mrs. Thurston—the second or third wife of Randall Thurston—tried to navigate the concrete of the parking lot in her six-inch heels. In the middle of the afternoon. In the summer.

  She shook her head and called to her receptionist. She’d asked that Andrea make no appointments for the afternoon as Jen and Faith would be arriving, and they needed to perform their ritual inauguration to the summer. Sitting on Jen’s deck and watching the sunset—and passersby—had become a tradition over the years, and she had no intention of missing it.

  “Is that it? Nobody else today?”

  “That’s it,” Andrea said from the front desk. “This is always my favorite holiday.”

  Carrie laughed as her receptionist perked up, turned off the computer and reached for her purse. It was a sort of holiday, she supposed. At least for her, and by trickle-down for her staff. She worked hard, and her staff was as dedicated as she was, so it was nice that they could take some time off and enjoy the early summer in Newport.

  “Great. Enjoy. You heading to the beach?” Carrie asked.

  “You bet. Wouldn’t miss it. The tourists will be descending like locusts before too long. Gotta catch as many waves as we can before then.”

  Andrea’s boyfriend was a champion surfer, and although he spent much of his time surfing around the world, he and Andrea still loved to catch the local waves. While they could.

  “Okay, be careful. See you Monday.”

  “Thanks, Dr. Carrie,” Andrea said, already halfway out the door. Carrie wondered for a moment if she already had her bathing suit on underneath her scrubs. It wouldn’t surprise her.

  “Oh, wait. This guy called three times again today. And it’s only a half day.” She handed three pink message sheets to Carrie.

  Carrie glanced at the messages—Dirk Crabtree. Again.

  “Thanks,” she said as she dropped them into the trash can.

  Andrea looked from the trash can to her boss. “Not going to call him back, huh? He’s been calling for weeks.”

  Carrie shook her head. One of his very first messages had noted that he’d been referred by her mother. And that, for Carrie, was enough to put him on ignore. “Nope. Not interested in what he has to say. Go ahead and get going. I’ll make sure he stops calling.”

  “Okay, thanks—I think,” Andrea said. She took a quizzical look back at her boss before the door slowly closed behind her.

  “You’re welcome, and don’t forget your sunscreen!”

  Andrea held up a bottle and waved as she got into her Volkswagen van, her surfboard sticking out the back.

  Carrie turned back into the office and glanced around. It was a small office, but she liked it that way. Offers to work at the bigger clinics had come regularly through the years, but she’d always said no. She liked working on the small side, and somehow she’d built a pretty big practice. Once people like the Thurstons had found her, anyway, and that was probably thanks to her mother.

  She’d never once asked her parents for help, but as her parents were heavily involved in fundraising for the hospital and the yacht club, she was pretty sure they’d thrown their daughter’s name into the pool. Life was good—if that Crabtree guy would just leave her alone.

  She glanced at her watch, figuring she had just about enough time to go home, change her clothes, grab a bottle of wine and walk up the beach to Jen’s house. Well, not Jen’s house exactly but the family house. She wondered a bit how it was that Jen had it for the whole summer, and neither her brother nor his kids would be coming. She was sure she’d hear all about it later.

  She considered stopping at the farmers’ market for something to take—an appetizer, maybe—but shrugged it off. Everybody knew she didn’t cook and pretty much no longer expected her to. Besides, Jen and Faith always had artichoke dip on their first night, and there was enough for an army.

  She pulled out of the parking lot, the top of her convertible down. It was still cool enough, with the Fourth of July still a bit away, and she tugged on the wide-brimmed hat that she kept on the front seat. Faith and Jen had told her she looked silly, but there was no way she was going to risk early wrinkles or skin cancer, so the hat had become her go-to.

  She turned onto the peninsula and headed down Newport Boulevard, past the restaurants, docks and all kinds of houses that would soon be filled with summer renters. For now, the roads were mercilessly free of people and small children trying to run as fast as they could to stake their claim on the beach, but she drove carefully anyway.

  Pulling into the garage of her townhouse, she carefully weaved through the golf clubs, tennis rackets and beach umbrellas and dropped her purse onto the white marble kitchen island. The ocean breeze blew in the sliding glass doors, and Carrie took in a deep breath. Even though she’d lived in Newport her whole life, she never took for granted the sand, the sun, the breeze—all of it.

  She peered into her small wine fridge and picked out a Pinot Grigio she knew the girls would love. She opened her refrigerator, somehow thinking that an appetizer might have magically appeared that she could take—but it hadn’t. It was basically empty but for some hard-boiled eggs, half-and-half for her coffee and a container of peanut butter.

  Her phone buzzed in her purse, and she smiled at the name on it—Jen.

  “Hey! You guys here already?” she asked.

/>   “Hi, Carrie,” she heard in the background.

  “Hi, Faith,” she answered, as Jen said, “Almost. Got a little bit of a late start. Sorry. We had some unexpected last-minute changes. And it might take us a little bit longer.”

  “Oh, no. Everything okay?” Carrie thought she heard a bark, but that couldn’t be.

  Jen sounded annoyed. “Yes, everything’s fine. Or I hope it will be. I’ll text when we get in the house. Can’t wait to see you.”

  “Same. I’ll be ready.”

  Carrie clicked off, and paced once or twice around the couch, not sure what to do with her nervous energy. Sounded like she had some time to kill—maybe the traffic had been a problem. California traffic had only gotten worse in the last few years, and Carrie thanked her lucky stars that she got to stay put right in Newport, year-round.

  She glanced at the older crumpled messages from Dirk Crabtree on the table. While she wasn’t positive exactly what he wanted, the reference to her mother was a dealbreaker for whatever it was. Honestly, though, she probably should call him back at some point. At least to get him to stop calling and bugging Andrea.

  The name was vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it—whether from the yacht club or the hospital board, she didn’t know. Clearly he wasn’t someone who’d left an impression on her, or she’d remember.

  The phone number was local but someone who called that frequently but didn’t leave a message—well, maybe her mother would spill what it was about.