Seaside Reunion

by Irene Hannon

She had no idea.

  Maybe her dad was right, though. Maybe she was rushing things. Perhaps, if she gave this a little time, she’d get some clear guidance on what to do about The Point—and Nate.

  Unfortunately, waiting for anything—guidance included—had never been her strong suit. Indecision annoyed her. Since she hadn’t a clue about how to solve either of her problems, however, what option did she have? Because she was certain about one thing.

  She didn’t want to make the wrong decision about either the touchstone from her past or the man who could be her touchstone for tomorrow.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The town hall was packed.

  Again.

  From her place behind the long table in front, Lindsey scanned the crowd. Unlike the last meeting, which the media had ignored, this one had attracted the attention of several local and San Francisco TV stations and newspapers, as well as a network affiliate. Shoulder-held minicams were already panning the room for crowd shots as residents settled into their chairs, and reporters with pens poised over their notebooks had claimed first-row seats.

  Louis Mattson was there, too, along with a couple of his colleagues. They were seated off to one side, conferring quietly.

  The only person she didn’t see was Nate. As far as she knew, he still hadn’t returned from Chicago.

  Maybe he wasn’t coming back, despite what he’d told the sisters.

  She didn’t want to believe that, but perhaps, once back in familiar territory, he’d decided that while it had been nice to reconnect with his childhood friend, there wasn’t a place in his life for her, after all. And how could she blame him? Except for that one kiss, she hadn’t given him much encouragement. For all she knew, he was already planning his next overseas assignm—

  Susan banged the gavel on the table, and Lindsey jumped. “This meeting is called to order.”

  As the mayor welcomed everyone, then introduced Louis Mattson, Lindsey forced herself to focus. The fate of Starfish Bay Chapel and The Point merited her undivided attention. She couldn’t let personal problems distract her.

  Mattson stood and moved in front of the three easels his assistant had placed beside the head table, each one holding a large covered presentation board. His smile was genuine, his stance relaxed. If he was angry about the bad PR Lindsey had helped generate, he gave no indication of it.

  The man had polish and class, no doubt about it.

  And his attire, like last time, was impeccable. Custom-tailored suit, based on the fit, knife crease in the slacks. Crisp white shirt. A blue and gold silk tie Lindsey was certain cost more than the fanciest outfit in her closet.

  “First, thank you, Mayor Peroni, for giving me a chance to return and speak to the residents of Starfish Bay. I must say, I had no idea our proposal would provoke such controversy. But I salute everyone who went to bat to protect what many of you consider an irreplaceable community asset. A touchstone.”

  He smiled and slipped one hand in the pocket of his slacks. “If the gentleman who wrote that excellent piece is here tonight, I’d be honored to shake his hand after the meeting. And I’d also be honored to shake the hand of council member Lindsey Collier, who I understand spearheaded the Save the Point campaign.”

  When he glanced toward her, Lindsey felt a flush creep up her neck. But again, his demeanor was sincere rather than spiteful or angry.

  “All of the publicity that’s been generated, particularly that first article, reminded me of a touchstone in my own life. I was born and raised in rural Missouri, and one of my favorite childhood memories was spending a day in a beautiful spot we called Fern Spring. It was the kind of place families gathered for picnics on summer Sundays, with a deep swimming hole and a tire swing, located in a fern grotto that always seemed to stay cool, even on the hottest August day. And trust me, Missouri can get mighty hot.”

  As the man walked toward the center of the room, leaving the easels behind him in the hushed hall, Lindsey found herself caught up in his story—as were the rest of the attendees, based on their rapt expressions.

  “I used to get back to Missouri once in a while. And whenever I returned, I always took a trip to Fern Spring. To that touchstone from my childhood. But last time I went, five or six years ago, it was gone, a victim of the far-reaching tentacles of urban sprawl. There’s a subdivision there now called Fern Valley, and the spring’s been diverted underground to the nearby river. As I stood there, grappling with the realization that this wonderful place from my youth had disappeared forever, I felt as if someone had ripped a hole in my heart. So I understand the importance of touchstones—and of preserving natural beauty.”

  If this was a PR ploy, Lindsey was falling for it hook, line and sinker. And a quick survey of the crowd told her the rest of the residents were, too.

  Mattson crossed back to the easel. “For that reason, I asked my site engineers and architects to take another look at the proposal for Inn at The Point. And I’d like to show you what they came up with.” He nodded to his colleague, who flipped back the cover on one of the presentation boards to reveal the original design for the inn, with a modified version beside it.

  “As you can see, we’ve taken the design from three stories to two to give it a lower, less intrusive profile that will blend even more seamlessly into the natural landscape. We’ve also relocated it a bit to hide it more from 101, leaving intact much of the view of the headland from the road.”

  He moved to the second easel and his colleague flipped back the cover on that board. “We took this aerial view of The Point during our initial site study. For orientation, here’s 101.” He traced the highway with his finger. “As you know, we’d like to purchase the entire headland. But we always intended to keep most of the land in its natural state. Rather than asking Starfish Bay residents to take that on good faith, however, we’re willing to build language into our purchase agreement that designates the area between these lines—” he indicated a large swath of forest between two dotted red lines, “—as a nature preserve, subject to further development only with the approval of the Starfish Bay Town Council. We would also grant public access for recreational use.”

  Gesturing to his colleague, he walked over to the third easel. His assistant flipped that cover back as well, revealing an artist’s rendering of a small white chapel very similar to the one on The Point.

  “And finally, the chapel. Our structural engineer tells us the current chapel has serious instabilities. In addition, it’s located on land we need for the inn. So we would like to offer a compromise. We’ll salvage what we can from the current chapel, including the bell and as much of the interior as possible, and construct a miniature version of Starfish Bay Chapel on the south end of inn property. It will be set in its own garden, and we’ll use it as a wedding chapel. But we’ll also make it available to residents for special-occasion use.”

  He returned to the center of the room. “And now, I’d be happy to answer any questions or address any further concerns.”

  As a few people rose and made their way to the microphone in the center aisle, Lindsey looked around the room. One sweep of the faces told her everything she needed to know.

  Louis Mattson would get his inn.

  A pang of sadness echoed in her heart. Yet in good conscience, she could no longer stand in the way of this development. Every concern raised had been addressed as sensitively and thoroughly as possible short of scrapping the project and leaving The Point pristine. But even if that happened, the chapel would continue to deteriorate. Either way, The Point was going to change.

  Just as life did, no matter how hard one tried to hold on to the past or the present.

  Five minutes later, as the last resident behind the microphone took his seat, Susan spoke again. “If there are no more questions, I’d like to ask anyone who still has an objection to this project to please raise your concerns now.”

  Lindsey checked with Frank. He gave a slight shake of his head. She moved on to Susan, who was watching
her. And shook her head, too.

  She saw Susan take a deep breath as she turned back to the audience. When no one spoke, she smiled at Louis Mattson. “Mr. Mattson, I believe we have a go. And on behalf of the council and the residents, please accept our thanks for your consideration and responsiveness. This meeting is adjourned.” She banged the gavel.

  The media surged toward the developer and the mayor, but a number of people joined Lindsey, too, including the sisters, her father, Frank and Clint, who’d taken on a lot of the grunt work for the Save the Point campaign. She looked to him first, knowing that as a naturalist, he’d have strong feelings about the outcome.

  “How do you feel about this?”

  “In light of what could have happened, I view this as a win-win.”

  That made her feel better.

  “You did fine, Lindsey.” Genevieve patted her on the back. “Why, if you hadn’t gotten everyone all riled up and raised a stink about this, that developer would never have gone back to the drawing board.”

  “That’s true,” Lillian concurred as Frank bobbed his head.

  Her father beamed an approving smile at her. “Just goes to show that one person—or a handful—really can make a difference. I’ll wait in the back until you’re ready to leave.”

  While she chatted with other Save the Point committee members, Louis Mattson joined her, waited his turn, then shook her hand. He was as charming and genuine to her as he’d been in front of the crowd in the meeting, and she felt even more comfortable with the outcome as he released her hand and shifted around to take another question from a reporter.

  That’s when she caught sight of Nate, shouldering through the crowd toward her.

  He’d come back!

  And now, with the situation at The Point resolved, she had to face the next critical question.

  Where did the two of them go from here?

  If the answer was forward, she knew that just as with The Point, compromise would be required.

  After much prayer and thought, she was prepared to do her part.

  But would Nate meet her halfway?

  Nate knew the instant Lindsey spotted him. Her expression went from surprised to joyous to uncertain in a heartbeat.

  But if all went as he planned, he’d be erasing that uncertainty in the next thirty minutes.

  The small cluster of people around her dissolved as he approached, and Lindsey ignored the knowing wink that passed between Genevieve and Lillian as they melted into the background. But it was impossible to disregard their soft, delighted titter when Nate went straight to her, took her hands, and gave her a kiss on the lips right in front of the whole town.

  “I missed you.” The muted words were spoken close to her mouth, the whisper of his breath warm on her cheek.

  “I m-missed you, too.”

  “Good.” He eased back slightly and smiled down at her. “I got here in time to catch most of the presentation. Are you happy with the outcome?”

  “Yes. The town benefits economically, and the development has the lowest possible environmental impact. You can take a lot of credit for that. Your touchstones piece had a big impact on Louis Mattson. Were you here when he talked about that?”

  The sudden self-conscious ruddiness in his neck gave her his answer before he spoke. “Yes. But you were the one who inspired me to write it. And share it.” He took her hand and perused the milling crowd. “Do you need to hang around here?”

  “No. But Dad’s waiting for a ride…”

  “No, he’s not.” Her father eased through a gap in the crowd. “I bummed a lift from Clint once I spotted Nate. Three’s a crowd and all that.” He leaned over and gave Lindsey a quick peck on the cheek, then winked at the two of them over his shoulder as he headed for the tall naturalist who was waiting in the back of the hall.

  “Can I interest you in a visit to The Point?”

  At Nate’s question, she shot him a surprised look. “In the dark?”

  “I have a flashlight in the car. And there’s a full moon tonight. We can celebrate a happy ending.”

  He wasn’t just talking about The Point. Happy as that outcome was, it wouldn’t generate the undercurrent of excitement that was charging the air between them. Or fill his eyes with warmth and hope. Or produce that ever-so-slight tremor in his fingers when he took her hand.

  No, he had an entirely different happy ending on his mind.

  But she hadn’t expected to have to deal with this tonight. Hadn’t psyched herself up for the serious conversation they needed to have. Hadn’t organized her thoughts or…

  “Hey.” He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. “While I wouldn’t be in the least opposed to another kiss in the moonlight, I’m not going to rush you, okay? But I do have some news I want to share. Will you trust me on this?”

  As she looked at the childhood friend who’d returned from the past and staked a claim on her heart—and her future—she gave the only possible answer.

  “Yes.”

  “Watch your step.” As they circled the chained-off entrance to the road that led to The Point, Nate hit the auto locks on his car and pocketed his keys. Flashing the beam of his light ahead of them, he took Lindsey’s hand. She hadn’t said much on the short drive from the hall, and he could feel the tension emanating from her. Not positive signs.

  On the other hand, he hadn’t imagined the flash of relief—and welcome—in her eyes when she’d spotted him at the hall.

  Things would be okay.

  They had to be.

  Even if he hadn’t gotten exactly what he’d wanted from the Tribune.

  The road was dark, the trees shrouded in shadows, but once they emerged onto the tip of the headland the flashlight became unnecessary and he clicked it off. The moonlight gave the chapel an ethereal glow and silvered the sea, the shimmering orb so bright even the canopy of stars was dimmed by its luster.

  “Wow.” Beside him, Lindsey slowed. “I don’t come out here much at night. It’s stunning, isn’t it?”

  “Very.” He led her to the bench. “Let’s sit for a little while and I’ll tell you my news.”

  She did as he asked, and after one more sweeping scan of the view she focused on him.

  Given the significant role it had played in both their lives, this spot had seemed like the obvious place to share his news. But now Nate wondered if it had been the best choice. Bright as the moonlight was, he couldn’t see her features as clearly as he’d like to. He wouldn’t be able to read her emotions in her expressive eyes.

  Then again, maybe that was a blessing. If he saw withdrawal or uncertainty, he might lose heart.

  Putting doubts and second guesses aside, he wove his fingers through hers and plunged in. “I’ve been busy the past few days.”

  “So I heard. I didn’t know you were planning to go back to Chicago.”

  He should have told her about the trip. But he hadn’t wanted to lie about the reason for it. Nor raise false hopes. “It came up pretty suddenly. And I didn’t expect to be gone more than a couple of days. But the managing editor was out of town and I ended up needing to talk with him, which delayed my return.”

  “New assignment?”

  He felt her pull back. Emotionally, if not physically.

  “You might say that. One I initiated. Because of you.”

  He heard her breath catch. Felt her grow still as she spoke. “What do you mean?”

  A breeze ruffled her hair, and he lifted a hand to touch the soft, gossamer strands that were luminescent in the moonlight. “Since the day I left Starfish Bay, this spot has been my touchstone. The place I measured the world against. And everywhere else I went, everything else I did, came up short. I was not only a man without a country, I was a man without a purpose. That cold, hard fact slammed home to me as I lay on that bombed-out road in Afghanistan, watching brave soldiers die as I wondered, ‘Why me?’

  “A few weeks later, something—or Someone—guided me back here. Desperation, not high expectations, compelled
me to follow that call. I knew I had to fill the gap in my soul, and this was the only place where life had ever felt right. I guess deep inside, I hoped coming back might make it right again. And it did. Thanks in large part to you.”

  He eased closer to her on the bench, keeping her hand firmly in his. “Truth be told, I didn’t know if you’d still be here when I decided to come back. And I wasn’t sure that mattered. I was more interested in revisiting the past than rekindling a relationship with an old friend. But once we reconnected, I realized a lot of my happy memories of this place were due to you. And I didn’t want those memories to be confined to the past. I wanted to make new ones with you. At the same time, I recognized there were obstacles. So I’ve done my best to remove them.”

  Lindsey gave him a cautious look. “How?”

  “I went to Chicago and asked the Tribune to restructure my position. Instead of being a full-time reporter, I proposed doing a syndicated column twice a month and taking on periodic special reporting assignments. I also visited with the chairman of the journalism program at Humboldt University in Arcata this afternoon to discuss a position as an adjunct professor, teaching courses on field reporting and investigative journalism, starting in January. For the most part, I got what I wanted from both parties. That means I can make my base in Starfish Bay—and we can explore this relationship at our leisure.”

  Nate hadn’t expected Lindsey to throw her arms around him and declare her undying love. Given her history, he’d known she’d want to take this slow and easy. But he’d hoped his news would be met with more than a wide-eyed stare.

  And as the silence between them lengthened, broken only by the muted crash of the waves on the rocks below The Point, he suddenly wondered if he’d misread her kiss and made a huge mistake.

  Nate had changed his life for her. Because he hoped they had a future together.

  It was mind-boggling.

  And scary.

  And amazing.

  His lips flexed, as if he was trying without success to smile. “Maybe I took too much for granted.”