Cottage by the Creek

by Elizabeth Bromke

  “Sarah doesn’t even have her own car, let alone a boat,” she pointed out. Had life in Birch Harbor changed this drastically? Or had the Stevensons stumbled into a different zip code? When Megan and her sisters were young, no Birch Harbor kids had their own boats. Not even the rich ones. Then again, back then, St. Mary’s was less of a factor. If memory served Megan, she recalled only a couple of veritable no-name kids trudging into first period from the Island. Their trek wasn’t a flashy one. More like a pilgrimage, really.

  Brian came to Vivi’s defense, though. “Well, it sounds like Vivi needs a boat more than a car. I mean, do you guys even drive around out on Heirloom? And when you’re in town, where do you keep your work truck anyway?”

  “I used to keep it at my buddy’s house on the southern cove, but now Kate lets me park on the far side of the boathouse. And she lets me keep the boat there, too. But I’ll probably go back to the old way. No point in taking up space now that Kate’s expanding the Inn.”

  Megan nodded but then changed the subject back to the so-called get-together. “Well, hopefully Sarah makes it to the beach in time, too. Amelia is notorious for being late.” She glanced at her wristwatch, unaware of the start time or any other details. At least Vivi was also delayed. She swallowed and pulled her phone out of her pocket, shooting a text to Amelia.

  Michael chuckled. “I can go get Sarah, if you’d like?”

  Her phone buzzed instantly.

  Amelia.

  Kate’s on her way to get Sarah for the party. No worries.

  Shaking her head, Megan let out a breath, smiled, and thanked him. “Looks like everything is in place.”

  “In that case, I’m going to head home, actually. I’m wiped out. What a week,” Michael answered, offering a handshake each to Brian and Matt.

  “Tell me Amelia’s not putting you to work on the Wendell thing still,” Megan added wryly.

  He shook his head. “She’s not, but I’m working on it, still. It’s interesting to me, you know? I wish my dad were still around. He’d probably know the whole story.”

  “Really?” Megan asked, her interest piqued.

  “Oh yeah. My dad Mr. Matuszewski knew this town in and out. From a distance, though. He was a… quiet observer. Kept a low profile. I wouldn’t be surprised if he were friends with your dad, and we just never knew about it.” He offered a smile. “Anyway, I’ve got a different case that needs reading.”

  “Who’s suing who?” Megan pried, unable to help herself. Brian gave her a look, but she just shrugged. “Can’t help it. It’s the meddler in me.”

  Michael replied, “It’s actually big news around the Island. I can’t go into much detail, but it has to do with St. Mary’s.”

  “The school?” Megan’s eyes grew wide.

  He nodded. “Education drama, if there’s such a thing.” Lowering his voice, Michael added, “Islanders want the administration to reinstate high school grades. There’s a hullabaloo about a charter school opening up out there if St. Mary’s won’t offer grades nine through twelve.”

  “Wait a minute.” Megan’s brows knitted together. “Didn’t they used to have one?” Megan asked, her memory stirring to life. That’s why so few kids came into town for school. At one point in time, St. Mary’s did offer secondary. Or wait… was that even before Megan was in school? She shook her head, now uncertain. What year was the yearbook Clara had discovered? She hadn’t asked, and Amelia had squirreled the thing away as part of her little detective project.

  “Yes, but that was before it went co-ed. It used to be a school for girls only. That was a whole other ordeal. If you ask me, the Department of Education should come in and open a public K-12 building. Something small but comprehensive enough to serve the Island kids.”

  Megan shook her head. “I disagree.”

  Brian turned to her. “Why? It’s crazy those kids have to take a ferry over here for school. Especially the little ones. If they opt out of St. Mary’s—that’s quite a commute.”

  “It’s what makes us interesting, though,” Megan argued.

  “Us?” Brian asked. “Weren’t you always opposed to lumping Heirloom Island in with Birch Harbor?”

  She raised and dropped her shoulders. “Well, I still think there’s no point in overhauling the educational system. Heirloom Island is technically part of Birch Harbor, and I think it’s important to pull those outlying kids into the school system here. It would help round out Birch Harbor Unified. You know? Keeps the funding centralized. No competition and a better mix.”

  “I don’t know,” Michael interjected. “The history there is too murky for my taste. I think those kids could use a second option that doesn’t require braving Lake Huron every morning and afternoon.”

  “Those kids brave the lake every weekend with these beach parties,” Megan pointed out.

  Brian said, “Either way, as long as the vessel is seaworthy—and the beach isn’t too poorly lit—I think it’s okay to let them have their little adventures, right?”

  “That’s true,” Matt added. “We sure had ours, after all.” He offered a lopsided grin, which made Megan want to sock him in the shoulder on Kate’s behalf, but it was hard to be mad at Matt. He was too much of a sweetheart.

  “Not a bad point,” Michael agreed. “After all, life only seems to get more boring once you grow up. Let them have their teenage dramas, I say.”

  A shadow crossed the parking lot, and Michael loaded into his truck. Beyond him, Matt waved them off and got into his. Brian and Megan pulled themselves into their SUV, but as they did, Megan’s gaze followed the lawyer. He was an enigma to her. Unmarried. Well off. Well connected. Smart. Good looking. Most of all, levelheaded and reasonable. A thought occurred to her.

  “Brian?” Megan asked once they were buckled in and on the road. “What do you think Michael sees in Amelia?”

  Chapter 10—Clara

  Clara shrugged at Amelia. “Why would I call you to say there’s a small locked drawer in a beat-up old vanity from the basement?” As the words formed on her tongue, the lightbulb clicked. “Oh,” she added. “Right. Well, I’m not currently on a manhunt, so…”

  “Aren’t you interested in our mother’s past? Doesn’t something like a locked drawer inspire a little curiosity?” Amelia shook her head.

  Clara tugged uselessly on it. “I guess I’m more of a leave the past in the past kind of person.”

  Amelia scooped up a bobby pin from the vanity and pinched it between her fingers victoriously.

  “Ta-da!” she cheered. “Move aside. Let the pro handle this.”

  She fiddled for less than a minute, and then they heard a distinct click.

  Without opening it, Amelia removed the bobby pin and backed away. “Okay. There you go.”

  Shaking her head, Clara took a step even farther back. “No, this is your mission. Not mine. Whatever is in that drawer, I want nothing to do with it. Jake is picking me up in fifteen minutes, Am.”

  Amelia glanced at the clock on the bedside dresser and seemed to consider the point.

  “There’s probably nothing in there,” she reasoned aloud.

  “What if there is?”

  “Then we set it aside and study it later.”

  Clara’s eyes flew to the clock, too. “I really need to get ready, and I’m worried you won’t be able to ‘set it aside’ for later.”

  “So, you do think there’s something in there, don’t you?” Amelia answered, her eyes blazing.

  Turning her attention to the mirror and her wet hair, Clara moved to the vanity and pressed her hips against the drawer. “I have to get ready. My date is more important.”

  Amelia’s face fell. She looked stricken but replied, “I’m sorry, Clara,” then took a step forward and pulled a lock of Clara’s hair into her hands, twisting it. “You’re right. Hair first. Date first. Locked drawers another day.”

  Clara brightened. “I have an idea. I’ll give you the spare key. You can stay here after Jake picks me up. You can
go through the drawer and anything else in this place to your heart’s content. Deal?”

  Amelia grinned. “Deal.”

  “There’s a catch, though,” Clara cautioned, assuming the upper hand.

  “Oh?”

  “You’ve gotta be gone within two hours.”

  Amelia frowned. “Is this, like, a challenge or something? A gameshow?”

  “No.” Clara shook her head. “If I bring Jake in for a nightcap, I can’t have you here.”

  Amelia’s mouth fell open. “A nightcap?” she cried. “Who are you, and what have you done with my baby sister?”

  Clara couldn’t force away the grin. “I’m not talking about anything indecent, but if everything goes well, then I want to be sure we can have the place to ourselves. For a glass of iced tea or wine, even. Okay?”

  “Okay,” Amelia answered. “But what if you’re back in, like, an hour?” she added, her brow line falling.

  Clara took her seat again and centered herself in front of the mirror, passing Amelia a round brush. “If I’m back before two hours, that means something went wrong.”

  When the doorbell rang, the sisters shrieked like little girls, and Clara shushed Amelia. “Don’t come out for ten minutes. Just to be safe.”

  “I promise,” Amelia answered, slapping Clara playfully away. “Now go. Go!”

  Clara slipped out of the bedroom, smoothing her coral dress and fiddling with a strand of her blonde hair. It hung light and swishy above her shoulders, and she felt like she might lift up and float to the front door.

  She took a deep breath, quelling the nerves pinching in her stomach as she reached for the doorknob and pulled it open.

  “Wow,” Jake breathed the word out, falling back a step. Clara smiled, self-conscious and flattered and thrilled all at once. “You look beautiful,” he added.

  “Thank you. So do you,” she replied, catching herself and slapping her palm on her forehead. “I mean, handsome. You look handsome.” And he did.

  Jake Hennings stood in khaki shorts and a light blue button-down, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Long tan limbs and his thick, dirty blonde hair belied his age, which she’d pegged for late thirties, early forties. A bouquet of daffodils and lilies burst from his fist as he offered it to her.

  “For you,” he added. “I don’t know much about flowers, so I asked the woman at the shop to help and—”

  “They’re beautiful,” Clara cut in, taking them and inhaling the sweet scent. No roses, she noted to herself. A smart move for a man in his situation. Safe. “Thank you, Jake.” She glanced up at him, using his name and making eye contact, just like she’d read to do. I’ll just pop these in a vase, and we can go?”

  “Oh, yes. Of course,” he answered, following her into the kitchen.

  Clara had never been on that sort of a date before. The sort that wasn’t preceded by half-hearted texting conversations and profile snooping. Not even in high school or college—especially not then—when dates came on the heels of a late-night study session or with an impromptu, post-class invitation to the Student Union.

  She didn’t own her own vases, even. Never had cause. But, of course, beneath the kitchen sink, she found rows of crystal and glass vases of every size. She handed the bouquet to him before reaching deep into the back of the cupboard.

  Carefully removing the biggest one she could spot, she placed it in the sink and turned the tap on until it was three-quarters full. Jake passed back the bouquet, which she inserted and set on the breakfast bar. “That was so kind of you,” she said, worrying her fingers together. “Thank you.”

  They tested out small talk on the way to his car, the door of which he opened for her before jogging around the back to his own side.

  A giggle bubbled up in Clara’s chest. She felt like she was on a date in a movie, with all the bells and whistles. Every moment was sharp and predetermined. Ritualistic and robotic, even. But that was okay. Clara liked having a sense of what to expect in such a new experience.

  Jake’s car smelled like leather. Not like an air freshener or old shoes or musty upholstery. But leather, cozy and inviting.

  She’d rehearsed a few conversation starters over the course of the week, but none came to mind now. So when he started the car, she went to the only natural question she could think of. “Where are we going?”

  He grinned. “It’s a surprise.”

  A list of all the restaurants in Birch Harbor shuffled like a rolodex through her mind. Harbor Deli would be a disappointing choice. The pizzeria, too (even though she really loved pizza). The Bottle was a logical option, but that wouldn’t quite make for a surprise. There was another handful of eateries sprinkled through town, any one of which might, in fact, catch her off guard. Especially if he picked a dive bar.

  But then when they turned south onto Harbor Ave and wove down toward Birch Village, she wondered if Jake Hennings even knew what the word surprise meant.

  “Okay,” he said at last, parking in the small lot at the corner of where the road swept in a curve toward the Heirloom Inn. Clara peeked through the windshield, wondering if Sarah was there, getting ready for her beach party with Kate. If they only knew Clara was just yards away, on her own little adventure.

  “Okay,” Clara echoed.

  Jake killed the ignition and said, “Wait right there.”

  She did as she was told, sitting as he disappeared behind the car only to return to her door moments later. A piece of fabric in his hand.

  “Now,” he went on, his voice softening. Weakening. Wobbling. “I have to admit something.” He held the fabric across his palms, limply. Awkwardly.

  Clara frowned at it. Her stomach clenched, and a bullet of panic burst through her chest. She started shaking her head, but then he licked his lips and glanced nervously out at the water.

  “Listen, Clara, this wasn’t my idea.”

  Chapter 11—Kate

  In the span of less than an hour, Kate had collected Sarah, stopped at The Bungalows so Sarah could get a change of clothes, returned to the Inn, grabbed the boat keys, and convinced her niece to ride out to the Island with her.

  Initially, Sarah protested. She needed more time to get ready, she’d argued. She didn’t know Vivi very well, she fibbed.

  “Maybe now would be a good chance to bond?” Kate had offered.

  That wasn’t what convinced Sarah, however. What convinced her was learning that Matt was on his way to the Inn, and then Sarah would be stuck there, alone with him.

  “Awkward,” Sarah had complained, rushing into her new outfit and smearing on a second coat of eyeliner before joining Kate in the boat that bobbed in place at their private dock.

  Kate had never once taken Matt’s boat out without him. And though she had her own, a relic from Nora that had all but disintegrated in the boathouse, she preferred to be a passenger. Any time Matt invited her out, she sat along the back bench, the wind whipping her hair as she focused on her breathing.

  “Put this on,” Kate ordered Sarah as they launched, tossing a life jacket to her.

  Sarah sulked. “Do I have to?”

  “Of course you do. I’ve been privy to too many almost-drownings,” Kate answered, adding, “Don’t worry. I’ll make Vivi wear one, too.”

  Sarah strapped herself in and took to the bench, stretching out her long, bare legs. It occurred to Kate that Sarah had no business being a misfit in Birch Harbor. She was beautiful and interesting, smart and confident.

  So was Megan exaggerating?

  Or had this dark-haired new girl really been eating her lunches in the bathroom? And if so, then why?

  Kate opened her mouth to pry but thought better of it. Having raised two boys, she had learned that the best route to drag something out of a teenager was to listen, rather than talk. And she could only listen if Sarah had something to say. And Sarah wouldn’t have anything to say, if she didn’t have anything to talk about.

  So, instead of commenting on the cooling temperatures or asking Sara
h how she liked Birch Harbor and her teachers and the other students, she decided to change course.

  Just as she pressed the throttle forward, she turned in her seat.

  “You know what?” she asked Sarah.

  “What?”

  Kate let the boat idle, the loud sound dying off immediately. “Why don’t you come sit here. I’m going to let you drive.”

  “I don’t even drive a car,” Sarah protested.

  “You don’t have your license?” Kate asked. She knew the answer. She remembered the day Megan called with celebratory news that Sarah passed the driver’s test. Kate had even sent her a pair of fuzzy dice for the dashboard of her future car. When the Stevensons’ world came crashing down, a new car for Sarah quickly fell by the wayside. Still, the girl did have her license. Any good aunt would know as much.

  “Yes, I do have my license,” Sarah answered, her curiosity piqued as she stood up from the bench and pawed her way along to Kate, unused to balancing in a boat.

  “Then you can drive this, too,” Kate waved Sarah into the seat.

  “What if we get in trouble?”

  “With whom?” Kate replied.

  “My dad said that if you’re under twenty-one, you need to take a class first.”

  “Oh, right,” Kate answered, lifting her brow. She swallowed and considered this fact. When Kate was a kid, she and her sisters could drive their dad’s boat as early as twelve years old. But had that even been legal? Now, she wasn’t too sure.

  She waffled. Was breaking the law worth gaining favor with her niece? Kate thought about Amelia, and what she would do. Maybe there was something to be said for letting loose every now and then.

  “Well, I won’t tell if you won’t tell.”

  A small grin pricked at the corners of Sarah’s mouth but quickly fell away. “What about Vivi?”