by Irene Hannon
“I am now.”
“Why?”
Nate ran his fingers through his hair, then propped his fist on his hip. “You want the truth? I haven’t a clue. The idea just popped out. It’s obvious Jarrod’s still dealing with a lot of issues and a lot of grief. If he finds out he’s not alone, learns how others in his shoes feel and are coping, it might help him heal. I guess I recognized that at some subconscious level.”
“Why do you care about Jarrod’s problems? He’s a stranger to you.”
He shrugged. No use pretending Lindsey hadn’t heard the background he’d shared with Jarrod. “I was in his shoes once. It would have meant a lot to me to have someone step in and try to make things better. Maybe I can do for him what no one ever did for me.”
Lindsey studied him, her features softening. “And maybe you’re not so cynical and jaded after all.”
His neck warmed, and he turned away to retake his seat in front of his laptop. “Don’t get your hopes up.”
She ignored that. “I didn’t know you’d lost your mother. Or been in foster care. I’m sorry.”
Her tone was gentle, soothing him in a way he didn’t deserve. Gritting his teeth, he stared at the geometric screen saver in front of him. “Don’t be. It was my own fault.”
Silence greeted that comment, and when he finally looked up he found Lindsey frowning down at him, her lower lip caught between her teeth.
Uh-oh. She was poised to get into some heavy stuff. And unlike the day of their reunion at The Point, he had no intention of encouraging her. He’d said too much already. “I have a proposition for you. About Jarrod.”
For an instant he thought she was going to forge ahead with whatever questions were forming in her mind. But to his relief, the creases in her brow smoothed and she switched gears. “Okay.”
“If his mother agrees to let him help me on this project, that could take the place of your reading lessons. Since my topic is a subject he’s interested in, it might come easier for him. And I’ll work it out so we know he’s actually doing the reading and comprehending the text.”
Lindsey pursed her lips and folded her arms across her chest. “I suppose it might be worth a try. I’m not getting anywhere with the books I’ve been offering, though most kids his age find them interesting.”
“Most kids his age haven’t lost a parent.”
She conceded his point with a slight lift of one shoulder. “It might work, depending on how long you’re planning to hang around. He wouldn’t progress much in two or three sessions.”
Truth be told, Nate had no idea how long he was going to stay. But he did know he wasn’t close to being ready to go back yet.
“I can commit to two weeks. Beyond that…I’m not certain.”
“Okay. That might be long enough to produce some results. I’ll call Cindy tonight and run the idea by her. We could step up the classes while you’re here, too—if you’re willing. Meet four days a week instead of three.”
“Fine by me.” He pulled a notebook out of his pocket and jotted down a number on a blank page. “Why don’t you call me after you talk to Jarrod’s mother?” He ripped the sheet out and handed it over.
“Lindsey! You want to take over so I can go home and start dinner?” Jack’s voice wafted over the shelving units that defined the coffee nook.
“I’ll be there in a minute.” She fingered the piece of paper. “This is a very nice gesture. Thanks for offering to help.”
The warmth in her eyes reached deep inside him, thawing the chill that had long ago numbed his heart.
“It’s no big deal. And it might not work.”
“You know the old saying, it’s the thought that counts. This one gets high marks.”
With that, she swiveled around to answer her father’s summons.
As she disappeared from view behind the shelves, Nate rested his elbows on the table and linked his fingers. He was glad Lindsey was touched by his gesture. But a story on children losing a parent? What had he gotten himself into?
He had no doubt Clark Gunn, the features editor at the Tribune, would be interested in the piece. And it was possible that reading about other children whose parents had died would, indeed, help Jarrod find ways to cope with his loss.
But his gut also warned him he might be opening a can of worms from his own past that was better left undisturbed.
And his gut was rarely wrong.
“How about a second helping of those scalloped potatoes?” Genevieve paused beside Nate’s table and smiled down at him. “You made short work of the first one. And everything else.”
Nate checked out his plate. It was clean enough to bypass the dishwasher, thanks to his diligent efforts to sop up every last speck of gravy with one of Lillian’s melt-in-the-mouth biscuits.
“I can’t keep eating like this. I’ll go home twenty pounds heavier.”
“You could stand to gain a little weight.”
That was true. He’d grown too lean in Afghanistan. But violence and gore had a way of killing a man’s appetite. As did the memory of violence and gore. Since arriving in Starfish Bay, though, he’d been scarfing down every meal.
“Maybe. And you and your sister are doing your part. This was the best salisbury steak I ever ate. And the gravy…” He gave a satisfied sigh. “You two should have your own program on Food Network.”
Genevieve beamed at him. “Flattery will get you everywhere. How would you like a piece of blackberry cobbler—on the house?”
Nate patted his stomach. “No room, I’m sorry to say. But I’ll take a rain check.”
“You’ve got it. Does that mean you’ll be staying around a few more days?”
He gave her a sheepish look as he realized he’d only paid through last night. “I decided earlier today to hang around a little longer. Another couple of weeks, at least. Which means I owe you more money.”
The older woman waved his comment aside. “You can settle up when you leave. You must be having fun, if you’re staying longer.”
Fun? Not quite the right word.
“Interesting would be a better way to describe it.” He wiped his lips on his napkin and set the lavender cloth on the table, next to the paper placemat adorned with orchids.
“You’ve certainly been spending a lot of time at the Mercantile.”
“They have Wi-Fi.”
“Not to mention a pretty shopkeeper.” Genevieve grinned. “Lindsey Collier is a real looker, as they used to say in my day. Before compliments like that were deemed politically incorrect.”
Nate did his best to keep the flush on his neck from creeping any higher. “I remember her as a little girl with pigtails.”
“She’s all grown up now.”
No kidding.
“That happens to all of us.” He kept his tone conversational, though his pulse kicked up a notch as he pictured the gentle curve of her lips. “I used to be a skinny kid with smudged glasses.”
“You grew up real fine, too.” She leaned over and adjusted the bud vase that held a single silk orchid. “I hope you won’t think I’m being too personal, but I’ve been wondering if there might be a wife or girlfriend or fiancée somewhere waiting for you.”
Uh-oh. He knew what that gleam in Genevieve’s eyes meant. Time for diversionary tactics.
“No. My job isn’t conducive to any of the above. No one’s waiting for me anywhere, except my boss. Besides, I’m not in the market for romance at this point in my life.”
“Lindsey said the same thing while we were chatting after church yesterday.” Genevieve exhaled and shook her head. “If you ask me, that girl needs to move on. Though I must say the pickings around here were slim until recently.” She aimed a knowing wink in his direction.
Subtlety was clearly not Genevieve’s forte—in decor or diplomacy. Might as well deal with this straight up.
“Genevieve, I’m only going to be here for a couple more weeks. And in case you have any romantic notions about a certain shopkeeper and the strange
r in town, you need to know she didn’t even remember me when I showed up at the Mercantile.”
“That was then. This is now. And trust me, you’ve made quite an impression in the past week.”
With a wink and a pat on the shoulder, she bustled off to chat with another customer.
Leaving Nate inexplicably lighter of heart, but also curious.
Just what had she and Lindsey talked about after church?
Chapter Six
Lindsey was impressed.
From the moment she’d turned Jarrod over to Nate in the coffee nook forty minutes ago, the two had been glued to the computer screen. Nate had walked his new assistant through some basic research principles and explained his expectations. Now he was helping him do a few preliminary searches. He’d even put a shortcut to a dictionary on his laptop, and had jotted down instructions for Cindy so she could do the same on their home computer. That way, when Jarrod got stuck, he could look up the word and the pronunciation.
Bottom line, Nate was treating the youngster like an adult colleague, and Jarrod was eating it up.
“He’s good with the boy, isn’t he?”
At her dad’s comment behind her, she flushed. She’d tried to be discreet in her eavesdropping, but nothing much got past her father. “Seems to be. And it’s kind of odd. As far as I know, he’s never worked with children.” She kept her face averted, hoping the heat in her cheeks would subside.
“Dealing with children is a natural skill. You either have it or you don’t. And it takes a generous, selfless heart to do it well, whether you’re a teacher or a parent. From what I’ve been picking up over there,” he gestured to the coffee nook, “Nate’s got the skill and the heart.” Jack checked his watch. “As long as you’re finished working with Jarrod for the day, do you mind if I cut out a little early? I’d like to weed the vegetable garden.”
“No problem. It’s been quiet, anyway.”
“I expect things will pick up if that developer gets his way over at The Point. And he might.”
Lindsey turned to him, furrowing her brow. “What have you been hearing?”
“Pros and cons. Seems to be about a fifty-fifty split. And there are strong opinions on both sides. I have a feeling next week’s meeting will be lively—and standing room only.”
She shoved her fists into the pockets of her jeans. “I wish I could think of some way to convince people it’s the wrong thing to do.”
“Are you sure it is?”
Her mouth dropped open. “How can you ask that? A development like that will ruin The Point!”
His expression gentled. “Not necessarily, Lindy. And it would benefit a lot of people. These are tough times. Even the Mercantile has been suffering for the past few years.”
She knew that. The books didn’t lie. She and her dad were getting by—but it was fortunate their needs were few and they were content with a simple life.
“Are you saying the end justifies the means?”
“You know better. I’m just saying maybe we should give this outfit a fair hearing.”
A burst of laughter from the coffee nook drew her attention, and she glanced over. Jarrod was smiling, and for the first time since his father had died, she saw a spark of genuine joy in the youngster’s eyes.
“Now that’s a real positive sign.” Her father indicated the duo. “Who’d have thought Nate’s return would be a blessing for Jarrod? Interesting how God’s plans manifest themselves. And speaking of the Almighty’s plans, try not to worry about The Point, honey. He has plans for that place, too. I have absolute confidence in that.”
As her father exited and she took her place behind the counter, Lindsey didn’t doubt the truth of his words. She, too, was certain God had plans for The Point.
But she wasn’t at all certain she would agree with them.
“Save me a cookie, okay, Lindsey?” Nate paused on his way out the door, surveying the line of three customers at the counter and the dwindling number of cookies under the dome. “I have to take a call from my editor and cell reception in here is marginal.”
“Sure.” Lindsey waved at him as she tucked the last item in Susan Peroni’s canvas shopping tote.
“Dennis will be sending out the agenda for next week’s meeting by Friday. You’ll be there, I assume.” Susan tugged the bag toward her across the counter.
“Of course. Along with most of the residents, from what I’ve been hearing.”
The mayor sighed. “I just hope we can fit everybody in the town hall. We haven’t had this much interest in a building issue since Jaz wanted to open his biker bar in the abandoned gas station on the other side of town. You weren’t here then, were you?”
“No. But Dad kept me in the loop.”
“A lot of people were against it. But look how well that turned out.”
Lindsey clamped her lips together and busied herself at the cash drawer. The mayor would bring that up. The so-called biker bar, far from being the den of iniquity many residents had feared, was a family-friendly spot that served burgers and held dart tournaments for charity. And Jaz, his ever-present cheery smile neutralizing his scary tattoos, had become a model citizen of Starfish Bay.
“The Point is different, Susan.”
The woman slung her purse over her shoulder and hefted her shopping bag. “I don’t disagree with you. I love The Point, too. I also love this town. But we’re facing some tough fiscal decisions, as the council well knows. No one wants Mattson Properties to destroy a natural resource, but if we cut them off without a hearing, aren’t we being negligent in our civic duty? Not to mention unfair?”
There was only one answer to the question her dad had also raised, and Lindsey refused to voice it. “It’s a moot point now, anyway. The special meeting is scheduled. They’ll get their hearing.” She looked over the woman’s shoulder. “Hi, Hank. Did you find everything you need?”
“I did.” The spry Starfish Bay octogenarian edged out the mayor, who got the hint and moved aside. “Hello, Susan. Talking about the meeting, I see. Well, Molly and I will be there, too.”
“The more, the merrier.” With one last sigh, the mayor exited.
By the time Lindsey waited on Hank and got an earful about why the development was a bad idea, then listened to Dennis Simms’s wife talk about what a boon the development would be for their fishing camp, the stirrings of a headache were beginning to pulse in her temples.
After setting aside a cookie for Nate, she dampened a sponge in the back room, then checked out the coffee nook. Sure enough, the two tables vacated a little earlier by the teen crowd were littered with cookie crumbs and empty soda cans.
Once she’d straightened up their mess, she balanced the cans in the crook of her arm and surveyed Nate’s table. It was free of clutter except for his open laptop, but a shriveled leaf on the golden pothos she’d carted back from Sacramento three years ago caught her attention.
As she leaned over to snag it, her elbow caught the edge of his screen, pushing it back. Juggling the cans in her arm, she readjusted it, glancing at the document that replaced the screen saver.
Two words jumped out at her.
The Point.
Intrigued, she scanned the text.
It wouldn’t mean much to anyone else, this little patch of headland on the northern California coast. It looks like hundreds of other headlands, more scenic than some, not as scenic as most. Passing motorists might not even notice it as they zip by on Highway 101, their focus instead on the quaint town of Starfish Bay.
Yet The Point, as it’s known to residents, is a touchstone for many. A place that helps define their town—and their hearts. An anchor in the turbulent sea of life. A repository of memories, exerting a pull strong enough to call home a prodigal son.
But this tiny piece of real estate is threatened, along with the small chapel atop it that has offered solace and hope for decades. And if they disappear, there will…
“That’s a private document.”
At Nate
’s chilly tone, Lindsey jerked away from the computer screen. The soda cans slipped from her grasp and clattered to the floor.
As she bent to gather them up, heat flooded her cheeks. She’d been so engrossed in his words she’d missed the warning jingle of the bell over the door. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snoop. The reference to The Point caught my eye.”
Instead of responding, Nate brushed past her and snapped the computer shut. When she stood, cans once again tucked into the crook of her arm, he’d slid it into its case and taken out his car keys. The taut line of his lips wasn’t promising, but it couldn’t hurt to try one more apology.
“Nate, I’m sorry.”
“How much did you read?”
“Just a couple of paragraphs.”
His fingers clenched on the handle of the case, and his blue eyes were cold as a Nordic glacier. “Where’s the next closest spot with Wi-Fi?”
Her stomach twisted. “Crescent City.”
She thought about apologizing again, but she’d already made two attempts. No reason to think he’d soften on a third try. And she couldn’t fault him for being irritated at her for trespassing into private territory.
He started toward the exit, and she trailed after him. “Will you be back to help with Jarrod?”
Hand on the door, he angled toward her. “I always honor my commitments.”
Somehow, that didn’t surprise her. “Do you still want your cookie?”
“No.” He turned his back on her and pushed through to the outside, flinging his final words over his shoulder. “I’m not hungry anymore.”
The door banged shut behind him, the bell overhead sounding far too cheery as it announced his departure.
For a few seconds, Lindsey remained where she was. Then she trudged over to the counter, deposited the cans in the recycle bin, and watched through the window as he spun out of the parking lot in a churn of gravel.
Man, she’d really hit a nerve.
She climbed onto the stool, set her elbow on the counter and propped her chin in her hand. If he’d been working on an article for the Tribune about the war, she doubted he’d have reacted as strongly to her faux pas. But what she’d read had sounded more like a journal.
