Return to Pelican Inn (Love by Design)

by Dana Mentink

  Pike shook his head. “No need. I just came because the situation has changed.”

  “Changed?” Rosa felt the tiniest trickle of hope meander through her veins.

  Bitsy began to chew her thumbnail. “What? What is it?”

  Pike sighed. “Lassiter withdrew his offer.”

  “He did?” Bitsy breathed.

  “Yes. He decided the social blackballing wasn’t worth the ocean view. There’s no one else interested in the property. Not one inquiry, so I came to say you might as well do it.”

  “Do what, Pike?” Rosa said slowly. “What are you saying?”

  “Finish out the Great Escapes contest. Maybe sprucing the place up will help attract a buyer who doesn’t want to tear it down.”

  Rosa let out a whoop and wrapped Pike in a bear hug.

  He clasped his arms around her, and she both felt and heard the low chuckle rumble out of his throat. The faint scent of soap clung to his skin and she breathed it in, fighting not to rub her cheek over the strong line of his jaw. Then reason reasserted itself, good sense put in a word and she let him go. “That’s great news. Thank you,” she said, straightening her jacket.

  He flashed another smile. “It’s a temporary reprieve, you know. I’ve still got a Realtor trying to drum up a buyer, and just so we’re clear, that inn is going to be sold. This doesn’t change anything.”

  “But not right now,” Bitsy chortled. “And that does put a new spin on the situation.” She fired a triumphant look at Wanda, but the woman was oblivious.

  Wanda still gazed in admiration at Pike, as if he had just delivered the Gettysburg Address. “What a committed nephew, to work so hard for your aunt,” she said. “There should be more nephews like you, just to make the world better-looking.”

  Pike raised an eyebrow.

  Wanda seemed to shudder a bit, perhaps realizing that she had been speaking aloud. She stiffened. “Yes, well, I’ll put the papers away then and we’ll continue on with the contest, barring any new offers on the property. Would you like some coffee?”

  Rosa noticed Wanda did not ask the question of anyone but Pike.

  “No, thank you,” he said, favoring her with a courteous nod. “I think we’d better get back to the Pelican. We’ve got work to do.”

  “We?” Rosa thought she must have misheard.

  He shrugged. “I might as well give you a hand with the painting. Business is slow now, and the sooner we get the bird back together, the sooner it can be sold. There are pieces of window seat strewn about willy-nilly. Looks like a bomb went off in there.”

  Rosa felt a grin spreading across her face. “I don’t know if I want you around the job site. You’re a lawyer. You might hurt yourself and sue. I don’t trust lawyers.”

  He laughed, a sound that elicited a sigh from Wanda. “I promise I’ll sign a liability waiver in case I fall off the roof again.”

  “Great,” Rosa said, trailing Bitsy from the office. Wanda fluttered along behind them, finally coming to a stop at the entrance.

  “Thank you all for visiting. Be sure to stop by anytime.” She waved cheerfully with both hands.

  Bitsy went ahead of them and climbed into the car, a smile still hovering on her lips. Rosa had no idea what she’d been party to between Wanda and Bitsy, but she had other issues pressing.

  Pike caught Rosa by the arm. “I hope I’m not making things worse here. This isn’t going to change anything in the long run. You understand that, don’t you? I don’t want to encourage any false hope.”

  Rosa nodded. “Don’t worry. We get it. The Pelican has to go.”

  “And about the help.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I’m not...” He stopped. “Oh, I’ll just say it. I despise your father and don’t want to work with him. There, that’s the truth. I know it makes me sound like I’m in junior high, but I don’t want to be around him.” His troubled brown eyes searched her face. They were the color of the smooth, tumbled rocks on the shore after the waves poured over them.

  Focus, Rosa. “If anyone can understand that sentiment, it’s me. No problem.”

  He exhaled, shoulders relaxed. “Okay.”

  “Can you really spare the time away from work?”

  “Yeah. Business is the pits.”

  “I wouldn’t have guessed that with the fancy clothes and Mercedes.”

  “I don’t have my father’s knack for rustling up clients. Even after the... Well, in spite of Manny’s accusation, Dad was still able to keep the practice afloat. He never let it divert him from his goals.” A seagull zoomed overhead. “He kept his old clients, but new ones were hard to come by for a long time while I was away at law school. I worked for a firm until last year when they downsized and I was let go.”

  Rosa knew building a practice was hard work—just like growing a client base. Sometimes, it was like crawling over glass, and one disgruntled customer, one scathing review posted online, could undo months of effort. Rosa’s stomach tightened as a thought dawned on her. “Does it still impact your business? That accusation from twenty years ago?”

  He cocked his head, as if he was listening to a call from faraway that she could not hear. “It still affects me, and I guess that’s the bigger thing.”

  Anger sparkled in his irises, a brief flash that died away quickly. “I’ll work the business problems out, and anyway, I love Aunt Bitsy more than I detest your father, so count me in on the action. I am ready to paint.”

  He walked to the car and opened the driver’s door for her. “Sorry. Forgot I’m not supposed to be a gentleman.”

  “I’ll excuse that, since you are shortly going to become a vassal in the Dollars and Sense kingdom.”

  “Uh-oh. I’m getting the sense that I know who the queen is in that universe.”

  She slid into the front seat and gave him an airy wave. “No reason to be too formal. You may refer to me as Your Majesty.”

  She could see him in the rearview mirror laughing, as she took the road back to the Pelican.

  * * *

  WITH FIVE DAYS of the contest time already gone, the task nonetheless felt a bit less overwhelming as they assembled the ragtag team at the kitchen table after a dinner of spaghetti and meatballs with a noodles-only version for Cy. Baggy showed up, too, earning himself a meatball, which he set about mauling on a sheet of newspaper Bitsy had wisely placed under his plate. Rosa and Cy revealed the style boards they’d prepared for each room and a rough budget that was tighter than a bad pair of shoes. Manny perused the display carefully, leaning over Rosa’s shoulder. He gave her a squeeze.

  “Not bad, princess. Very fine work.”

  Her chest filled with something that felt a lot like pride. His comment should not mean much, certainly. He knew nothing about interior design, and neither was he aware of any of the zillion and one steps she’d had to climb to establish her own fledgling business. His palm was heavy on her shoulder and she swallowed hard to will away the strange emotion. Her father was proud of her.

  “Thanks.”

  “I’ll paint the porch,” Rocky said. “Whole place needs a new coat.”

  “I know, but we can’t spare the funds,” Rosa said. “Actually, I’m afraid I don’t have the money to pay you anything for the extra work.”

  “No need.” A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “We’ll work for food, won’t we, Stu?”

  Stu nodded, rocking back and forth in the chair, sitting on his hands.

  “Long as I can keep Stu with me. Gal who watches him sometimes is busy with the boat festival.”

  “Naturally he’s welcome,” Bitsy said. “We’re happy to have him.”

  Rocky looked relieved. “He doesn’t like painting ’cuz it’s messy, but he can help with the garden as long as he wears his gloves.”

  “Manny and I
can tackle the stairwell project and the map display if you’ll paint the frames,” Cy said to Rosa.

  “Deal. I’ll take care of it right now, before we lose the sunlight. Tomorrow, we can finish priming the sitting room and do the decorative striping.”

  “Decorative striping?” Pike frowned. “That might be outside my pay grade.”

  “We’ll make it work,” Rosa said. “Bitsy, I think that leaves you with press corps. Can you handle any phone calls and keep the crew fed and watered?”

  “Of course, and I can go into town whenever you need anything. There’s a display in the jewelry store window that’s been calling to me, anyway.”

  Pike frowned.

  “We’re going to have plenty of errands to run, starting with painter’s tape, which I forgot, and I need to find a fabric store to do some sheer curtains for the bathroom,” Rosa said.

  Bitsy’s eyes sparkled. “Tomorrow I’ll make a trip to Half Moon Bay. I know they’ve got a fabric store. I’ll get some new plants while I’m there. Stu, would you come look at the gladiolus? I think we need something to freshen them up.”

  “We don’t really have the budget for landscaping,” Rosa said.

  “I know, I know. Bologna and cheese budget. But Vern down at the nursery is a friend and he’s nutty for the raspberry jam that Rocky makes, and I just so happen to have saved a half dozen jars. That ought to get us a few new plants, especially if I throw in some fresh-laid eggs. And they say I’m not a bargain shopper. Ha.”

  “I’ll go see if Esmerelda and the girls have been busy laying eggs today.” Rocky was out the door in a moment.

  “Off we go, Stu,” Bitsy said. “The garden waits for no man.” Stu trotted along with Bitsy.

  “It’s good to see her happy,” Manny said, earning a startled look from Pike.

  “She’s happy. I make sure of it.”

  “Yeah, I can see that.”

  Pike glared. “Why don’t you spill it? I can tell you’re dying to say something.”

  Manny’s lips thinned. “She’s broke. Gonna lose her place. You couldn’t find some way out of that, hotshot lawyer?”

  “You have no right to stick your nose in here, old man,” Pike spat. “You messed up your own life and that’s your business. Stay out of hers.”

  Cy held up a hand. “Let’s just shut this line of conversation down right now.”

  Manny refused to be quieted. “I’ve known Bitsy longer than you have, Pike, and you know what? I know things you don’t. Secrets that you aren’t privy to. How about that? Sticks in your craw, doesn’t it?”

  Cy pushed Manny toward the staircase. “We’ll start in the stairwell and finish the window seat later. Come on.”

  Manny allowed himself to be escorted away.

  Pike stood, hands on hips, breathing hard.

  “I’m sorry,” Rosa said.

  “Not your fault.”

  Maybe not, but she’d put in plenty of mental energy over the years wanting to hurt Pike exactly as her father had just done. “You’ve done your best for Bitsy.”

  “Not enough, it seems.” He shook his head. “Never mind. Let’s paint.”

  She got him finishing up the primer. He applied the paint in angry, precise strokes, and it was clear he did not desire any further conversation. Would she really be able to keep Pike away from her father for the next two and a half weeks? Feeling like the ringmaster in an out-of-control circus, she headed into the front yard.

  She threw down an old sheet on the grass and spray painted the cheap frames in bronze and gold, thrilled as they began their transformation into faux antiques. The first coat was finished when the sun sank low on the horizon.

  Rocky shuffled by with Stu.

  “Going home?” she said.

  He nodded and kept on toward the path.

  “Rocky?” she called and he stopped. “Did you put a new lock on Captain’s Nest for Bitsy?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why?”

  His mouth twitched. “She asked me to.”

  “What is she keeping up there that has to be locked up? Do you know?”

  “Her business.” There was condemnation in his hard stare, and Rosa felt ashamed at asking him to tattle on a woman he respected.

  “You’re right. I’m sorry for asking.”

  He shrugged. “Better get whatever you need in town before week’s end.”

  “Why?”

  “Boat festival preparations.”

  “Does that cause extra traffic in town?’

  He smiled but didn’t answer. “’Night, Rosa.”

  “Good night, Rocky.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “WE’RE GOING TO do a pearly-gray base color, intercut with wide bands of mossy green linen.”

  Pike regarded Rosa from under the brim of a white painter’s hat. The morning sunlight streaming through the window added dazzle to the pristine fabric. “Come again?”

  She tried not to laugh at the combination of his ridiculous getup and his glazed look. “Where exactly did you get the white overalls?”

  “From Charlie down at the hardware store,” Pike said with a touch of pique. “He said this is the official uniform of a house painter. Why aren’t you wearing them?”

  “Because I can never keep a white outfit clean, even if I’m not painting.”

  “Hmm. I did wonder about the color. Do you think maybe Charlie had an overstock of overalls he was looking to offload?”

  “I’m sure not.” The white suited him, adding to the smokiness of his eyes, the burnished tan of his skin. She found it difficult to focus her attention elsewhere, but she did, getting out the laser level and projecting straight lines onto the wall to guide her painter’s tape...until the exact moment she realized she’d forgotten the painter’s tape.

  She groaned. “And Bitsy’s already left for the nursery. I’ll have to run into town.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  “No need. You can stay here and get started.”

  “Please. I don’t even know what ‘mossy green linen’ and ‘intercut’ mean. I’m not touching one drop of paint without thorough supervision.”

  They collected a list from Cy, which elicited another groan from Rosa as she read off each item. “Do you really need a mirror?”

  “The bathroom is small, sis,” Cy said, wiping sweat from his forehead and temporarily shouldering his T square.

  “And the use of mirrors is the best way to enlarge a tiny space,” Pike piped in.

  Rosa and Cy both stared at him.

  “That’s what you said in your blog. Mirror, Mirror, in the Hall. Remember?”

  Rosa gaped. “You read my Dollars and Sense blog?”

  Pike squirmed and picked at a spot on the front of his blindingly white overalls. “Occasionally.”

  “That article ran last year. You’ve been reading my blog since then?”

  “As I said, occasionally. I just happened to look you up one time and there you were, catchy blog and all.” He pocketed his hands. “You’re the reason I have any color at all in my condo. I bought a red pillow after the Sham It Up post.”

  Cy nodded in bewildered approval. “That was a good one.” He nudged Rosa. “See? I told you people read it besides the two of us.”

  Feeling that the earth had tilted a bit more off its axis, Rosa meandered out to her car, making sure to get there before the blog-reading man could open the door for her. She needed a moment to collect her cascading thoughts as he climbed into the passenger seat. Pike had been reading her blog for a year. A wild notion occurred to her as she buckled up and beetled out of the parking lot.

  “You didn’t comment on my blog, did you?” she asked, turning to Pike.

  He raised innocent eyebrows.
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  “Wait a minute. You’re Decorating Challenged, aren’t you? Why didn’t you tell me who you were?”

  “I didn’t think you’d answer if you found out it was me, and I needed to know the difference between a comforter and a duvet. You’re driving too fast.”

  He seemed to be speaking normal English, but he might as well have been uttering some sort of Martian language. “Pike, why have you been following my blog? And don’t say it’s for decorating advice.”

  “Watch the road.” He drummed his fingers on his white overalls. “Occasionally—rarely is more like it, probably—I think about you, about what happened in high school.”

  Her stomach tumbled. “Oh.” So he felt guilty, or sorry for her. Or maybe, her evil side put in, he enjoys watching you falling down in slow motion. Decorating Challenged was one of very few commenters on the struggling blog.

  He rolled down the window and let the wind ruffle his hair. “I remember you and me on Poppy’s Dream.”

  She jolted. “That’s what you think about?”

  He nodded. “Among other things. The speed limit’s fifty-five here, you know. Why? What did you think was on my mind?”

  “Homecoming.” It was out of her mouth before she could think it through. Her cheeks superheated. “Oh, never mind. We don’t have to go back to that place again.”

  He let out a breath. “That sticks with me, too. I treated you badly. No, it went beyond badly. I humiliated you, didn’t I?”

  She remembered it so clearly. A girl she’d thought of as her friend had insisted she hurry to her locker. Pike had left a message there, she reported. He was no doubt going to ask her to the big dance.

  How stupid she’d felt later, even entertaining for a moment the thought that a boy like Pike might invite her to homecoming. But at that time, all she’d known was a rush of joy, an eagerness that she’d never experienced, a thrill that someone like Pike was interested in someone like her for more than a casual Sunday boat ride.

  And what was waiting in her locker? A picture of her mother wearing only underwear that someone had snapped and blown up, and an empty bottle of whiskey. It all rushed back now, her shame, her disgrace played out in front of all the teens who’d lined the hallways, laughing, Pike right along with them. Their shocked faces when she’d smashed the bottle on the floor.