Law of Attraction

by Charlotte Hubbard

  The properties here reflected a Harmony Falls where wealthy folks from Washington and California had built summer homes back in the 1920s. These quaint places were loaded with architectural charm, but there was no way around it: they were in terrible shape. It would be easier to tear them down and start from scratch, because the ocean-view lots were a gold mine, but the locals had a stubborn streak about their historic homes. And Ross counted himself among them.

  He slipped out of the car, stood in the yard on the west side of Windswept, letting his mind go slightly out of gear. Then he crossed to the opposite corner.

  This was it. He closed his eyes and assessed the sensations, felt his heart beat faster while his body tuned in to the house’s vibrations and residual history. A grin overtook his face and Ross told himself not to get any wild ideas just because he’d had this property listed all winter and Angie had obviously loved it. What kid didn’t recall childhood vacations at the beach with a longing to return to that place in time?

  In the moonlit mist, 24 Windswept Lane took on a fairy-tale charm. Its porch spanned the front of the house, with saggy stairs between paired columns. The front gable’s eave brackets glowed in moonlit cream, if he overlooked their peeling paint, and the overgrown forsythia and lilac bushes would soon burst into bloom. It was simple and sweet, like Angie. And as he stood on the uneven front sidewalk, Ross heard the laughter of the pigtailed child who’d played here. He could envision her leaning against the porch pillar now, to catch the evening breeze, imagined her silhouette in the dormer window as she got ready for bed. Definitely a woman’s profile, in all its sensual glory.

  He swelled with a need he hadn’t felt in years, yet this wasn’t about sex. His yearning went deeper: he dared to believe he could love Angela Cavanaugh for the long haul, because she fulfilled something within him while she sought answers only he could provide. It scared the hell out of him.

  This is wayyy too strong, way too soon, pal, his head said, even as his heart yearned for Angie’s simple sweetness. You went down this road with Terri and then with Rita, remember? Three strikes and you’re out, so don’t go there.

  Yet Ross knew better than to discount his intuition. He felt a power swirling around his body that suggested something much larger was at work. Something prophetic and providential. The sea kicked up an invisible energy here, so inexplicable things happened. But his hunches usually proved true…when he followed them.

  Ross grabbed his phone and thumbed the number of a guy who specialized in historical restorations—and played a mean trombone, too. This was going way out on a limb, investing capital in a property that would burn his butt if the risk didn’t pan out. But it felt so freakin’ good to take chances again. To stop dancing around Rita’s mood swings and demands. And damn! If this worked out, wouldn’t it be cool?

  “Yo, Costello. You remindin’ me of band rehearsal on Thursday?” Kyle Iverson said, answering his cell. He was the best rehab carpenter on the Oregon coast.

  “Kyle! How’s tricks, buddy?” Ross’s body thrummed. If this worked out…He pictured Angie’s smile, and the way her eyes would light up.

  “Be damn glad when the rain ends so’s I can get somethin’ besides piddly-ass projects with little old ladies, ya know?”

  “Tired of leaving your boots at the door and then stepping outside to smoke?”

  Iverson’s throaty laugh confirmed his guess. Ice cubes clinked in a glass.

  “Got a proposition I think you’ll like.” Ross grinned toward the house, reminding himself to remain an objective entrepreneur rather than a fool about to fall. “You know that little section of bungalows on the south of town? Vacation rentals, and all of ’em need serious help. Got a few I’d like you to work your magic on.”

  “Seriously?” Kyle sucked on his cigarette. “Like, when?”

  “Soon as you look ’em over and say yes. The money’ll be good: half up front, and I’m betting we’re eligible for grants, long as their historic integrity’s preserved,” he added in a rush. “Which is why I’m asking you, of course.”

  Kyle sipped his drink.

  “Just you and me kicking this into gear,” Ross insisted. “No historical committees or governmental red tape.”

  “Lemme tie up a couple projects and…hell, I’m comin’ in Thursday night anyway. Let’s look ’em over before we rehearse.”

  “You got it. Thanks, Kyle.” As he shut off his phone, Ross imagined the way Angie’s tawny eyes would light up. But it wasn’t just about her when this project came together; it could be a fresh start for Harmony Falls, a renewal that was long overdue. Yeah, this spur-of-the-moment idea could explode in his face, but meanwhile he had a whole new purpose, a new plan that excited him and gave Angie Cava-naugh a reason to stay for a while. A long while, if he had his way.

  He pounded the side of his Navigator, laughing as his dogs barked. He had some homework to do, and a lot of paperwork. The devil was in the details, but then, he’d always been a little bit of a devil!

  He inhaled deeply. Paused to take the ocean’s pulse. He could now admit to himself that he’d never really loved Rita, that he’d fallen in lust at twenty and hadn’t known how to love Terri during their short, turbulent marriage. When he’d gazed into Angie Cavanaugh’s peaches-and-cream face smeared with wet mascara, Ross had sensed a frustrated soul akin to his own, a soul that longed to have fun again. Her Spirit had been bound and gagged and tormented, yet she’d never snapped, because Angie lived for the silver linings rather than the clouds. She was looking for a forever love.

  And he would soon be ready for her.

  As he gazed across the moonlit hills, dotted with porch lights and veiled in mist, Ross smiled at the silhouette of Harmony Lodge. Angie was thinking about him, too. He could feel it. And if that was a romantic’s wistfulness on his part, he didn’t care. He’d finally found something—someone—he could truly believe in.

  ANGIE inhaled the stillness as she gazed out from the balcony of the Rainbow Room. Inside, a nightstand lamp illuminated quilts and sheets and wall hangings lovingly crafted with colorful rainbow designs, all of which she adored. Elena had invited her to join the happy chatter of the crochet club, but Lenore had shooed her up to this room. Now Angie stood with a rainbow-striped afghan wrapped around her, listening to the low roar of the surf as the white-edged waves surged and receded in the moonlight.

  Endlessly fascinating. Enormously fulfilling. She’d loved the sea as a child, but it felt different now, more intense, as though it whispered to her alone, coaxing her to reach out to grab a gift she couldn’t yet see. What was it about Harmony Falls? Why had she felt so compelled to come here? The voice in her head had sounded gently relentless, even after she’d tried to drown it, and now that the peacefulness of this place had enveloped her, she knew! This place had answers.

  It was like what Lenore had said at the table: she’d always heard that inner voice of intuition, but who knew it was divine guidance? Today she’d really listened to it—believed in it, even when it seemed to talk back at her, as though her mother and the white-haired innkeeper were both guiding her somehow. Lenore St. Claire and Elena Velez had welcomed her home, yet she’d never met them before, and her silvery-haired hostess used her full name from the start—something her mother had insisted upon, too. A new energy throbbed throughout her body as she grinned into the night.

  Ross Costello had kissed her—hadn’t he? It had been such a short, sweet, impulsive brushing of lips, she wasn’t sure.

  Yes, that was a kiss. And yes, he wants more.

  A few feet away, a wind chime began to tinkle.

  Angie blinked. There wasn’t any breeze. She gazed at the tubular metal chimes, which caught the lamplight from inside as they made their music. The tones reminded her of an old music box, soft and sentimental.

  Makes you wonder how Ross knew so much about you—and about Gregg, and why you were running from him. And the table was set for four before you got to the lodge. Explain that one!

/>   Her breath seeped out as she recalled her first moments in Lenore’s kitchen: the cherry-print wallpaper and green curtains, the little white table set with red plates on a plaid tablecloth. How had Lenore known she and Ross would be there to eat? Or had she invited other friends?

  Nope. There had been no scrambling around or hasty explanation.

  For all you know, Ross was in on something.

  She thought about this a moment and then shook her head. He couldn’t have known she’d be walking the beach, could he?

  Angie pulled the afghan tighter around her shoulders. The shiver she felt had nothing to do with the chilly spring evening or fear. On this roller coaster of a day she had escaped her past with Gregg and left her emotional baggage behind, in Seattle. She stood here a free woman with a fresh start in a quaint coastal town that had called to her from her childhood. A man and his dogs had saved her life. A silver-haired earth mother had provided food and clothing and a room for as long as she needed them. A snappy-eyed Latina wanted to be her friend. It was all like the wind chimes tinkling for no reason—

  No, just a reason you can’t yet see.

  She wasn’t sure how all these things had fallen into place, but she didn’t question providence. She simply inhaled and held her breath, held in all the quiet joy she felt at the moment.

  Angie shut the porch door after going back in her room. A pretty nightgown lay draped across the bed, which someone had turned down—probably Lenore, who seemed to live in a constant flow of love and compassion. She was a graceful woman of mystery, who would reveal herself a layer at a time, and only as she chose. But meanwhile, Ross planned to show her around town tomorrow, so she’d better be ready for anything!

  She washed her face in the tiny bathroom and then caught her reflection in the medicine-chest mirror. The handprint on her neck was already fading. And who was that woman with the big grin on her face?

  Five

  THE breakfast buffet enticed her with its alluring aromas while she was still in her room, and then with its sheer abundance as she entered the lodge dining area. Angie paused beside the antique sideboard to marvel at the spread: oversize muffins bulging with blueberries; more of those cinnamon rolls, in a puddle of warm glaze; sliced ham, and sausage links so plump they’d split; and a pan of seasoned scrambled eggs that hadn’t started out as powder. Yogurt and scones. A colorful fresh-fruit tray that could’ve graced the cover of a magazine.

  Angie smiled at the two couples seated across the room from her and wondered if enough guests had stayed last night to actually consume so much food. If so, they’d been very quiet: the only sound she’d heard all night had been the rhythmic call of the sea. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d slept past six, and eating breakfast at eight felt downright decadent. Disreputable.

  Delicious, that voice in her head corrected. It feels totally delicious, like this food! Jump in and enjoy it all!

  Angie picked up a warm plate, suddenly famished. She chose a plump muffin and some ham, and then caved and took one of those huge gooey rolls as well. Ross had no doubt started her on a serious sugar habit—yet Elena’s cooking wasn’t the only thing she craved right now, was it?

  “Good morning, Angela! You look rested and well after a night beside the sea.” Lenore waved at her other guests and joined Angie at the sideboard. Her tongs wavered, and then she snatched a sausage and one of Elena’s rolls. “It’s so nice to have you here, dear. Perfect timing, too, as Harmony Falls—like every other spot that depends on tourism—is experiencing a downturn during this tight economy. Gives me more time to spend with you. Shall we eat outside?”

  As she followed her hostess to a table out on the deck, Angie nipped at her lip. She said, “I feel badly about taking up a room when you could be renting it to…”

  Lenore set down her plate to grasp Angie’s hand. “Harmony Lodge is my home, dear. Guests or not, I have a roof over my head and I need nothing,” she insisted. “Your arrival is divinely timed and absolutely right. Never apologize for going along with your Spirit’s plan for your life, even if you don’t know what it is.”

  I need nothing. The words lingered in Angie’s mind like the lyrics of a love song, and she wondered if she would ever reach that point. What would it feel like to need nothing? Did it mean millions in the bank? A good man to love? A cozy home? A job she truly enjoyed? Never apologize for going along with your Spirit’s plan…

  “You’ll feel utterly free—’unplugged,’ as they say—when you trust the universe to provide for you, Angela,” the woman beside her continued. “Your belief sends out positive vibrations and attracts more wonderful things back to you, so you will indeed find the new beginning you seek.”

  There it was again, Lenore’s uncanny ability to reply to her thoughts, in a voice that sounded so confident. Angie sat in a wicker chair, gazing out over the ocean as if she’d find answers there. Pacific-shore mornings hid in the mist, but the waves never ceased whispering their secrets.

  “May I assume that little grin’s about Ross? And that you enjoyed being with him last night?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Angie said with a sigh. “Didn’t help that he kissed me, though.”

  “Didn’t help whom? I hear horn players make the best kissers.” Lenore’s blue eyes twinkled as she unwound the outer coil of her cinnamon roll. “I’m guessing you and Ross both loved the interaction, and that’s all that matters. The sooner you stop second-guessing yourself, the sooner you live without limits because you create your own perfect world. Ross would benefit from that lesson, too.”

  Lenore was enticing her again. Life without limits. A perfect world. Concepts she desperately wanted to believe in, even if they sounded so pie-in-the-sky impossible.

  “Would you like a reading, dear? When I have profound questions, I turn to the tarot. For you see, the big picture—the overall scheme of things for humankind—has changed little through the centuries.” Lenore focused on Angie with those startling blue eyes, which scored a direct hit on her heart. “We humans see things through very limited perceptions. With our lifetimes…well, it’s like trying to view the universe with one eye shut while squinting through a spyglass. Yet, we still trust in our Creator.”

  Angie shifted, studying her ham and eggs. “Been a while since I went to church. Sorry.”

  Lenore shook her head. “This has nothing to do with religion, dear. It’s about your soul’s journey. Who you are and why you’re here.”

  “And you’ll use fortune-telling cards for that.” Angie’s heart pounded as she searched Lenore’s tranquil face. Why was she challenging the most compassionate woman she’d met in a long, long time? “So…do you have a crystal ball, as well? Does the universe go along with that hocus-pocus stuff?”

  Her mother would’ve slapped her for asking such smart-aleck questions, yet the woman seated beside her, dressed in a loose shirt and pants of palest blue knit, merely smiled as though Angie were a precocious child who’d spouted off without knowing what she was saying.

  “Matter of fact, I do have a few crystal balls. They focus the energies around me when I meditate. But if you’re expecting me to don gold hoop earrings and tie a gaudy scarf around my head,” Lenore teased, “you’ll be sorely disappointed. I do, however, interpret the cards you draw—cards that carry your energy after you’ve shuffled them—and I am divinely inspired while I read for you. It’s my life’s purpose to guide lost lambs and heal them, you see. No matter which path you take, I can help you see alternatives and options more clearly.”

  Angie held her breath, listening closely.

  Lenore shrugged. “If you have no interest in what the tarot holds for you, that’s perfectly all right. You came here for answers, and you’ll find them. The Spirit reveals itself in everything around us, if we look.”

  Angie’s cheeks sizzled, and she fingered the itchy place around her neck. “You must think I’m horribly ill-mannered and ungrateful and—”

  “I think you’re spectacular, Angela. You s
hould question my methods. Many intelligent, well-intentioned people see tarot readings as a party game or a way to bilk gullible souls out of their money.” Lenore’s smile was dazzling, like the first burst of morning sunshine making sequins sparkle on the sea, as though this woman could cause those sequins to appear because she had connections in very high places. “If you ever need anything, child, you only have to ask. In your own good time and on your own terms. That’s the only way to live as your authentic self.”

  Angie sank back in her chair. She closed her mouth over another sinfully delicious bite of cinnamon roll. How was it she’d always had to fight for every little victory before, with Gregg, yet now she sensed it was the letting go that would reveal what she needed for her future? “A tarot reading would be great. I…I’ve never had one, so I shouldn’t knock it, right? And if my recent life’s any indication, I’d be better off entrusting such guidance to you than relying on my own instincts.”

  “That’ll change for the better now, dear. Trust me.”

  And as the gentle, white-haired woman leaned toward her, focusing those clear blue eyes so intently, Angie did trust Lenore St. Claire.

  The world grew still around them as though nothing existed beyond this lodge, this deck, as though the morning mist was about to lift and reveal something wonderful! Angie grinned, anticipation singing in her limbs.

  “That’s what I like to see! What a radiant smile you have,” the mystical woman whispered. “We’ll begin as soon as we’ve finished this fine breakfast.”

  As she sat beside the window in Lenore’s room, Angie again drank in the white serenity of this sanctum, crisp linens and wispy sheers that filtered the morning’s sunshine. Across the round table, her hostess paused over a box to choose a deck larger than most playing cards.

  “We’ll use the DruidCraft deck today. Every tarot deck has its own feel—a unique personality—and I think you’ll connect with the subtle colors and the faces of the people you’ll meet here.” For a moment Lenore held the deck between her hands, eyes closed. When she passed it over, Angie felt she’d become a member of a mystic ritual.