by Irene Hannon
She shrugged. “I’ve learned a thing or two since then. It’s more prudent to be cautious.”
“No arguments there. Not since this broken hip cramped my style.” He drained his mug and pushed himself to his feet, using the table for leverage. “But I haven’t given up gardening. I’m just a little more careful about where I step. Same’s true with love. And now I’m done playing Dr. Phil for the day.” He gestured to her empty mug. “Want some more tea?”
“I’m finished, thanks.” When he reached for it, she touched his hand. “And thanks for the advice. I’ll think about what you said.”
“Good enough. And I’ll keep praying. Join me if you want to.” With a wink, he moved back to the sink.
She watched him, a rush of affection tightening her throat. He never gave up on his quest to help restore her faith. And thanks to his pushing and prodding, she was going to church more regularly now. Sending a few more prayers heavenward. Working harder to reestablish the once-strong link she’d felt with the Lord.
In the meantime, she was glad her dad was praying for her. Because with Nate shaking the foundations of the calm, placid life she’d established after returning to Starfish Bay, she could use all the help she could get.
Bingo.
Nate squinted at the screen of his laptop, felt for the glass of lemonade Lillian had offered after she’d agreed to let him plug into the modem in her office at the Orchid, and took a sip.
He should have started with the Sacramento Bee instead of wasting time Googling Mark Collier and wading through a bunch of unrelated pages. He’d hit pay dirt with the first blue headline on the Bee’s archives page dated two and a half years earlier.
Mark Collier Memorial Fund Tops $350,000
That had to be Lindsey’s husband. How many Mark Colliers would have lived in Sacramento? But why such a publicized memorial fund? Who was this guy, anyway?
He read the first two teaser lines of text below the date.
“Contributions to the memorial fund established in the name of Sacramento police officer Mark Collier…”
Lindsey’s husband had been a police officer?
Not liking where this was heading, Nate clicked on the link to the full story and continued reading.
“…continue to arrive on an almost daily basis, according to a Police Department spokesperson, who predicted the total may exceed half a million dollars. At the direction of Mark’s widow, who authorized the establishment of the fund, college grants will be given to area students who have demonstrated high academic abilities and an interest in pursuing a career in law enforcement.
“Collier was killed two years ago when he stepped in to break up an altercation between two youths in a parking garage and found himself in the middle of a drug deal. Off duty at the time, he suffered multiple stab wounds—including one to his aorta—and bled to death at the scene. His wife was also injured in the attack.”
The sweet aftertaste of Lillian’s lemonade soured in Nate’s mouth.
Lindsey’s husband hadn’t just died, as she’d told him that first day at The Point.
He’d been murdered.
And she’d watched him die.
Nate closed his eyes and gripped the arms of the desk chair as the words he’d spewed out to her earlier replayed in his mind.
Do you know what it’s like to lay there, too stunned to move, too stunned to help, and watch someone bleed to death an arm’s reach away? Do you have any idea what it’s like to feel that helpless?
Yeah, she did.
No wonder she’d looked shell-shocked at his tirade.
No wonder she carried a gun.
Sucking in a deep breath, he found himself turning to the God he’d distanced himself from for too long.
Lord, forgive me. Let her forgive me.
But truth be told, he didn’t deserve forgiveness. He’d hurt a grief-stricken widow who was still recovering from her own trauma. A woman who, despite the chaotic state of her world, had upended her life yet again to return home to assist her ailing father. To tutor struggling students. And now, to launch a crusade to save a place she—and others—loved.
More evidence of her strength.
Yet today, her emotional scars had gotten the upper hand. Because an experience like that affected you for the rest of your life. He knew.
But what of her physical scars? How badly had she been injured in the attack that had killed her husband?
Opening his eyes at last, Nate searched through the remaining stories about Lindsey’s husband, looking for more information. But though he learned a lot more about Mark—he’d not only been a decorated police officer, but in his spare time he’d coached a boys’ softball team in a troubled neighborhood and served on the board of Big Brothers—Nate found no more references to Lindsey’s injuries.
“Did you get everything hooked up okay?”
At Lillian’s question from behind him, Nate blinked. Took a breath. Tilted the screen of his laptop down. She’d offered to let him use her computer, but he’d wanted no record of his search anywhere except on his own machine. He didn’t want the older woman to think he’d been prying into Lindsey’s affairs.
Even if he had been.
Swiveling in the chair, he nodded. “Yes. No problem. In fact, I’m almost finished.”
“That didn’t take long.” She cocked her head and gave him a once-over. “You know, you look a little peaked. Didn’t the lemonade agree with you?”
“It was great.” He picked up the half-empty cup to take a sip, grasping it with both hands when he discovered his fingers were trembling. “I’ll be out of your hair in a few minutes.”
“Don’t worry. I’m done for the night.” She gave him another keen perusal. “Are you sure you’re all right? Maybe you caught a chill out on The Point. I hope Lindsey’s okay.”
He shot her a puzzled look. “How did you know I was at The Point? With Lindsey?”
She chuckled. “Our mayor and her husband were driving our way on 101 for dinner and saw you and Lindsey start down the path back of the dental office. She told Genevieve. Word travels fast in Starfish Bay. You two keep stepping out together, gossip will have you paired up in no time. So a word to the wise—watch your p’s and q’s, unless there really is something going on between you two.”
Although he tried to respond to Lillian’s grin with a smile of his own, it was hard to fake good cheer. Much as he wished there was something going on between them, he had a sinking feeling the episode on The Point had dashed any chance of that as effectively as the sharp rocks at the base of the cliffs crushed the fragile shells carried by the waves.
“I’ll keep that in mind. But I won’t be around long, anyway.”
“More’s the pity. Genevieve thinks Lindsey’s taken a fancy to you, and I have to say I agree. I also think the feeling is mutual.”
He pivoted back toward his laptop, hoping the heat on his neck stayed below his collar. “And I think you two are jumping to too many wrong conclusions.”
“Your pink ears tell a different story. But don’t you worry, young man. Genevieve and I aren’t ones to spread rumors. Our lips are sealed. We do wish you luck, though. And now I’ll leave you to finish up.”
The door clicked shut as the older woman departed, and he once more lifted the screen of his laptop, then powered down. He’d found the information he’d been after.
Now he had to find a way to make amends.
The fate of The Point wasn’t looking rosy.
From her seat at the table in front of the room, Lindsey surveyed the town hall. Every chair had been claimed, and people were standing three deep around the perimeter. She’d been watching the faces as Louis Mattson made his presentation, and hostility had given way to receptiveness on many as he walked them through not only a preliminary design for Inn at the Point, but several examples of how Mattson Properties had integrated boutique hotels into other natural landscapes. He’d now moved on to a discussion of his very favorable projected economic i
mpact on Starfish Bay.
She doodled on her notepad as he talked, anxious for them to get to the Q&A session. During his presentation, she’d jotted down a number of questions to supplement the ones she’d put together over the past few days. If none of the residents asked them, she intended to jump in.
“Well, that wraps up our formal remarks.” Louis Mattson took in the town council and the residents with a sweeping smile. Tall and slender, his silver hair set off by his perfectly tailored dark gray suit, the man reeked class and integrity. This wasn’t some sleazy operation that would make promises it never intended to keep. The company’s record was stellar, based on Lindsey’s research. It had won both architectural and environmental awards. There was no question in her mind that the proposed development for The Point would be tasteful.
But that still didn’t mean it was the right thing to do.
“Thank you, Mr. Mattson.” Susan adjusted her glasses and motioned toward the microphone in the middle of the center aisle between the rows of seats. “We’ll now open the meeting to questions. Please line up behind the microphone and state your name for the record.”
A third of the audience rose. Or so it seemed to Lindsey. She glanced at the mayor. Susan was frowning.
Lindsey positioned her own sheet of questions in front of her and settled back.
It was going to be a long night.
Things had not gone in Lindsey’s favor.
From his seat in the last row of the town hall, Nate watched her pinched face as Susan prepared to wrap up the meeting. During the hour Q&A session, Louis Mattson had handled himself with aplomb, deflecting hostility and antagonism with reasoned, persuasive and empathetic responses. Nate estimated he’d won over at least half of those who’d come to the meeting tonight in full opposition to the plan. Some would revert to their previous position after Mattson packed up his dog-and-pony show and went back to San Francisco, but the scale appeared to be tipping in favor of approval.
Susan rose. “Thank you all for coming. And special thanks to Mr. Mattson and his team for their excellent presentation. The motion for a citizen vote on this matter has passed, and we’ll work out the details at our next regular meeting in two weeks. You are all welcome to attend that as well. This meeting is adjourned.” She banged her gavel.
As the crowd began to mill about and the murmur of conversation swelled to a crescendo, he felt a tap on his shoulder.
“I thought I saw you over here.” Jack Callahan smiled at him as the crowd began to disperse. “You didn’t say anything about attending when we chatted at the Mercantile today. And Lindsey didn’t mention it, either.”
“It was a spur-of-the-moment decision.” Not that Lindsey would have known even if it hadn’t been. Since their traumatic parting at The Point six days ago, she’d gone out of her way to avoid him. He always saw her for a couple of minutes when he showed up at the store to work with Jarrod, but her handoffs were quick and cool. And by the time he finished with the boy, she was always gone, leaving Jack in charge. He’d taken to dropping by at odd hours, hoping to catch her, but if she’d been there, she’d spotted him through the picture window by the counter and ducked out. Nor had he run into her at The Point, though he’d made several trips out there, too.
No one should be able to be that elusive in a town the size of Starfish Bay.
“I think the tide may have turned tonight.”
At Jack’s comment, Nate pulled himself back to the conversation. “You may be right.”
“Lindsey’s not going to be happy.” He checked on his daughter, still at the front of the room, surrounded by a crowd of allies.
“Yeah. I know.”
“She’s been on the phone all week, trying to rally support. I heard talk of a letter-writing campaign, too. And she called the papers in Eureka and Crescent City about tonight’s meeting, but I don’t think she had much luck interesting them in the affairs of our little community. As far as I could tell, there weren’t any reporters here.”
“I’m not surprised. A town council meeting is boring stuff for most newspapers. And this story isn’t all that newsworthy in the big scheme of things.”
It had great feature potential, though, with the kind of hook guaranteed to engage readers—a classic David and Goliath story. But maybe you had to have journalism or PR skills to know how to work that angle.
The kind he had.
A pang of guilt ricocheted through him.
“That’s a fact. The Point doesn’t matter to anyone but us.” Jack sighed. “Guess I’ll go on home. Looks like Lindsey will be here for a while.”
Nate followed the direction of the older man’s gaze. She was still surrounded by a crowd, her expression animated, her posture energized.
“You heading out, too?” Jack retrieved his jacket from the back of the chair in front of him, where he’d draped it during their conversation.
“I think I’ll hang around a few more minutes.”
“Okay. See you at the store.” Lifting his hand, the man wove toward the exit.
Nate slipped into the shadows at the back of the town hall. Small clusters of people continued to congregate around the room, but slowly they all began to thin until at last Lindsey remained alone behind the head table.
Only then did her shoulders droop.
And that posture of defeat propelled him forward.
Intent on gathering up her purse and notepapers, she didn’t see him approaching until he was mere feet away. Once she spotted him, she grasped the edge of the table and froze.
“Hi.” He gave her a smile.
She didn’t return it. “What are you doing here? I thought this wasn’t your fight.”
He deserved that. “I had a free evening.”
“Well, I hope you were entertained.” She dug around in her purse for her car keys.
“Lindsey…” He waited for her to look up. “I’m sorry about what happened at The Point the other day. I never meant to upset you.”
She gave a stiff shrug and slung her purse over her shoulder. “I got over it.”
“I doubt that. Now that I know what prompted it.”
He heard her sharp intake of breath. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m a reporter. I know how to do research. It didn’t take me long to find the stories about your husband in the Bee’s archives.” He gentled his voice. “I’m so sorry.”
Bright spots of color appeared on her cheeks, and her fingers clenched around the strap of her purse, blanching her knuckles. “You could have asked instead of sneaking around behind my back.”
“You’ve been difficult to pin down since that day. The minute I get to the Mercantile, you disappear.”
She ignored that comment. “I don’t know why you bothered, anyway.”
“I think you do.”
She ignored that, too. “I need to get home. It’s late.”
“Would you consider going somewhere with me for a cup of coffee? I’d like to talk with you.”
“What’s the point? We’ve been fighting ever since you came back, and in a handful of days you’ll be gone. I don’t see any reason to invest any more effort in this relationship.”
“I do. We had some great times together as kids. There’s no reason we couldn’t have some great times together as adults.”
She responded with an impatient shake of her head. “Times change. People change. You can’t live in the past.”
“Aren’t you doing that very thing?”
She blinked. “What do you mean?”
“You admitted you were scared after I suggested there might be more in store for us than friendship. Your fear must be coming from your experience with your husband. Isn’t that holding on to the past, too?”
“No. That’s being sensible. And I never said I was scared. Just…nervous.” The lights in the room flicked on and off, a not-so-subtle message to clear out. She picked up her notebook and file folders. “Good night, Nate.”
“Can I walk you to yo
ur car?”
“I’m in the back.” With that, she swung away from him, aiming for an exit behind the table that separated them.
Once she pushed through the door, Nate shoved his hands in his pockets and made his way toward the door at the other end of the building, his fingers encountering his prized agate. His version of worry beads. Always, when he touched that small stone, he felt calmer. Soothed. Able to think more clearly.
Lindsey had rebuffed his olive branch tonight. But that didn’t mitigate his need to make amends for the can of worms he’d opened on The Point. He needed to convince her the magic he recalled from their childhood friendship was still there. That he was coming to care for her as much now as he had then.
As he stood in the back of the now-quiet town hall where the fate of a local landmark hung in the balance, he could think of only one gesture that might penetrate the barrier she’d erected around her heart to keep him out.
But did he have the courage to take such a dramatic leap out of his comfort zone?
Chapter Nine
A cloud of dust rose as Lindsey flipped open the lid of a cardboard packing box. She paused long enough to sneeze twice, perusing the attic as she did so. The last time she’d ascended the pull-down stairs had been a few weeks before her marriage, when she’d come up in search of the small wedding photo of her mother she’d remembered seeing as a child. She’d wanted it to be the “something old” she carried as a bride.
That quest had been successful.
But she was having less success finding old photos of Starfish Bay Chapel.
As she plunged into the box, she hoped the others who’d volunteered to assist with the “Save the Point” campaign were having better luck. Using photos to help illustrate what an important role the headland and chapel had played in the lives of so many residents could be an effective strategy to stem the shifting tide of public sentiment on the issue. But unless she found a shot or two in this box, it didn’t appear as if she was going to be able to contribute any photos to the effort.
