Last Chance Harbor

by Vickie McKeehan

  “Got quite a few stops to make this morning?” Landon asked, taking in the hardworking man he thought of as his own and had since the boy had celebrated his fourth birthday.

  “The usual. Taking the rest of Ryder’s order out to Taggert Farms this morning then stopping at Promise Cove to drop off Jordan’s supply of seedlings. She always orders herbs this time of year. Why? What’s up?”

  Landon told him about Julianne Dickinson’s interest in the house.

  “Someone wants to actually buy it? Why?”

  “That’s what I said. Nick Harris and Patrick Murphy cautioned us all to do what we could to make sure the school principal feels welcome whenever she starts work here. It never occurred to me that she’d want Eleanor’s house. There isn’t even a ‘for sale’ sign in the yard. I guess that’s why I’m surprised she approached me like she did.”

  “I never saw it coming either,” Caleb admitted.

  Landon rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve been stewing about it since last night. Let’s face it. If she doesn’t buy it, with the school opening in the fall, there’ll be others interested in moving into town and looking for real estate. If I don’t sell it to her, there’ll be other people asking.”

  “Makes sense. Now that locals have the prospect of sending their kids to a neighborhood school they’d be looking to settle here again,” Caleb reasoned in agreement, understanding the town was growing and changing. “Still, the woman’s biting off an awful chunk of work.”

  Wiping the sweat from his brow despite the cool temperatures, Caleb added, “But if you think I’ll be upset to see it go, think again. I haven’t been back inside that place since I was fifteen and swiped a bottle of beer out of the fridge, snuck in there to finish it off without you knowing about it.”

  “Yeah, you took two that night. Don’t forget the one you gave to your friend at the time, Steven Hedeby.”

  Caleb grinned. “Yeah, I was trying to impress the jock football player. Why does it not surprise me that you even know about the beers? Never could sneak anything past you or Mom.” He closed the rear door to the van and went around to the side, faced the man he considered his father. “Look, Drea and Cooper feel the same way about that house as I do. If someone wanted to tear it down, start from scratch, I wouldn’t stand in their way.”

  “You mean that?”

  “Sure I do. You can ask Drea, get Cooper’s take all you want, but I’m telling you they won’t care anymore than I do who ends up with the place or what they ultimately do with it. You might want to mention the history there. How unhappy we all were. Although I’m certain there are plenty of people who’ll be willing to line up and share all the scurrilous details about Eleanor.” After making sure he hadn’t forgotten any part of the order, Caleb reached to slide the side door closed. “Could you put in a condition for me though, to the new owner?”

  “A condition? What’s that?”

  “See if you can get them to agree to repaint the outside.”

  Curious, Landon lowered his gaze. “Any particular color?”

  “Anything will do except that awful pink and purple.”

  Landon smiled. “Sure. I’ll see what I can do.”

  Chapter Five

  Oblivious to the Jennings family dynamics playing out, Julianne learned on Thursday afternoon about Nick and Jordan’s plans. They’d offered her a weekend stay at their Promise Cove B&B, beginning Friday night through Sunday.

  “It’s our off-season and we’re practically empty. This weekend is our chance to pamper the new principal,” Jordan explained. “We’d love to have you as our guest.”

  “How could I possibly say no to that?” she told the innkeeper over the phone.

  “Why would you even want to?” Jordan said with a laugh.

  “I’m blown away by your hospitality.”

  “It’s our way of showing you how excited we are to have you make your home here. Ryder tells us you’ve already started house hunting. We’re delighted to hear that.”

  Julianne told her about the little gingerbread house and how she was having second thoughts. “Am I being silly?”

  “That’s entirely a personal choice, however consider this. There are lots of older homes here. Each one has its own story. Take the one Brent and River are living in for example. It’s where his grandmother passed away. One day Autumn was there, reading her books, canning, making her homemade candles, watching television, going about her business as usual and the next day she’d left us. Then there’s the one Hayden uses for her bookstore. That house is where Ethan’s grandfather died in the back bedroom. Then there’s the place Ethan and Hayden recently fixed up on Landings Bay. They live in the house where Sissy Carr once lived. Who knows what she and that crook, Kent Springer, cooked up inside those very walls? But Ethan and Hayden bought it because they wanted to stay here, make a life here and that was the best possible house to do it.”

  “Ah, I see what you mean.”

  “Good because it’ll be hard to find a house without a history, particularly in Pelican Pointe. I suppose that applies to anywhere really, unless you get a brand-new home. Whichever property you choose though, we want you to be happy here. So take your time and make sure you get the house that calls to you, whatever the reason. And don’t listen to anyone else influence you. What do you know about the town? Have you researched it at all?”

  “Not much, other than it seems like an amazing little town. I mean, there’s a rescue center for marine life there and a Chumash museum in the planning stages. I think it’ll be a great place to put down roots.”

  “Then pack your bag and come for a couple days. We’ll do our best to make you feel right at home here.”

  After she hung up, Julianne decided she’d take a second look at the Jennings house. She couldn’t explain her attraction to it other than the gorgeous view of the bay from the front porch. After talking it over with her dad, she felt certain this was the house she wanted. Finding the right property would go a long way to making her feel at home there.

  Getting the owner onboard with the idea of selling it to her was simply a combination of persuasion and perseverance. Giving up wasn’t an option. She’d discovered that for herself—first from her father—then later from Danny. Both men had given her a window into stubborn along with a dab of give and take. She’d learned mediation—which helped her every day in the classroom dealing with temperamental children—and the art of haggling. She discovered negotiating came as natural to her as teaching did. But even with skills in that arena, she’d get her dad’s take before she hammered out a deal. It didn’t matter with whom. Julianne trusted his judgment.

  By the time she started tossing her stuff into a suitcase in anticipation of the weekend, she’d talked herself into giving the gingerbread house another chance. Maybe because she knew firsthand that sometimes a person had to let go of the past in a big way to get anywhere at all. Zipping the bag up, she thought of Danny. Memories flooded her.

  It was definitely time to let go and begin again in a brand-new place.

  Come Friday afternoon after school, Julianne followed Jordan’s directions. She flew along the Pacific Coast Highway past the outskirts of Pelican Pointe on the way to Promise Cove. With the music cranked up and Rufus Wainwright blasting from the car speakers, she glanced out the window to see the water churn with foamy whitecaps.

  Reducing her speed she veered off onto the narrow turnoff leading to the B&B. Heading west toward the ocean, it didn’t take long before she saw the apple-green and white sign that read, “Promise Cove Bed and Breakfast, established 2009 by Scott Phillips. Jordan and Nick Harris, Proprietors.”

  Her van bounced along the paved driveway while she craned her neck to get a look at the surrounding woods on both sides of the lane. For a brief time she wondered if she’d somehow missed the property entirely. But then the thicket of cypress and willow gave up a glimpse of house, if you could call it that. She fixed her gaze on the massive Victorian. It reminded her of a S
outhern mansion or maybe a chateau in the south of France. Not that she would know what either looked like firsthand.

  She stared up at the gabled roof, the deep angles that formed a contrast of lacy edges and bold triangles. Inching her minibus beside the long wraparound porch, she parked behind a Ford Explorer and hopped out. For a moment she thought she saw the guy she’d seen at the gingerbread house. If it were him he hadn’t done laundry for two days because he wore the same shirt and khaki pants he’d had on Wednesday afternoon. Which was ridiculous, she decided.

  Even as she reached to get her bag, Nick was right there to offer a hand.

  “Have any trouble finding us?”

  “Not a bit. Your directions were perfect.” She looked around at the view, could hear the waves slap the shore from where she stood. “This place is amazing.”

  “We like it. I hope you don’t mind but we took the liberty of making your visit a sort of ‘welcome to Pelican Pointe’ dinner. We’ve invited a few friends over for Saturday night.”

  She grinned. “I suspected as much. Besides, Brent Cody already let the cat out of the bag. It’s okay. Good thing he warned me, otherwise I wouldn’t have packed my little black dress.”

  She trailed after Nick as they made their way into the house where Jordan was dealing with two argumentative toddlers of different mindsets.

  “No, Hutton, you cannot force your brother to play dress up if he doesn’t want to.” Spotting their guest, Jordan sighed. “There you are. Did Nick tell you about the little get-together we’ve planned for tomorrow night?”

  “He did.”

  “Good. Then you’ll settle in tonight with us, rest up from your workweek with a good eight hours sleep to go house hunting tomorrow.”

  “Actually I’ve decided to give the Jennings house another look, get my dad’s take on whether or not fixing it up is even worth the effort.” While she talked, Julianne glanced around the spacious parlor. Her eyes landed on a photograph sitting atop the mantel. The face of the man she’d seen Wednesday at the cottage stared back at her. She went over, examined the face, the uniform he wore. Snatching the picture off the shelf, she asked, “Who is this man?” She raised her head long enough to see the couple exchange furtive glances. “What?”

  It was Nick who cleared his throat to speak. “That’s the man who grew up here, in this house. Scott Phillips. He was married to Jordan. He’s her first husband.”

  Julianne wondered if that explained why her hosts both looked so uncomfortable. She didn’t think it was. The next words out of Jordan’s mouth cut into her own muddled thoughts.

  “Scott didn’t come back from Iraq,” Jordan explained.

  “But… What do you mean he didn’t come back? I saw him in town mid-week, had a conversation with him at the little bungalow. He’s the one who told me where to find the owner.”

  Julianne saw the look of doubt form in the couple’s eyes and realized neither one believed her. Even though it did sound preposterous, she knew what she’d seen with her own eyes. “He’s the one who told me how much work it needed, pointed out how close it was to the pub.”

  “Since he grew up here, Scott would know all about its history from the beginning,” Nick pointed out.

  Astonished at his statement, Julianne appealed to them. “You believe me then? You don’t think I’m delusional?”

  “It’s a long story. Why don’t you go upstairs first and get settled. You’re in the Coral Room this weekend. Take a shower or go for a walk around the grounds until dinner’s ready. Nick will take your bags up.”

  “Okay, but… How is it you believe I had a conversation with a dead guy? Sorry,” she added quickly for Jordan’s benefit. “But you see my confusion.”

  “Unpack first,” Jordan suggested again. “A walk will clear your head. We’ll talk over dinner.”

  Upstairs, Nick let her inside the room. Once she got a look inside, she realized they’d given her one of the best suites in the house. Her eyes drifted to the focal point—the old antique four-poster bed with its soft, downy comforter. She took in the pale, sea-green walls, the stencils in the shape of white coral reef hand-painted as decorative trim. She stepped to study the beach-themed photographs depicting lighthouses and sandbars and said, “Oh, Nick, this is too much. You and Jordan have to let me pay you for my stay.”

  “I tell you what, you offer to babysit our kids sometime so that Jordan and I can take a break for an evening out and I’ll be indebted to you for life.”

  Julianne chuckled. “That seems like a small price to pay for spending two nights in such a gorgeous setting.”

  “No, it isn’t. Believe it when I say, it’s a fair trade. I don’t know how you manage twenty-five six-year-olds in a classroom without losing your sanity when some days we struggle to deal with two.”

  She smiled at him. “The secret is I deal with them and then they go home—to spend quality time with mom or dad.”

  Once he set her bag down on the settee, before he turned to go, Julianne stopped him. “Nick, by any chance would you be willing to tell me if you believe in ghosts?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do.”

  “You didn’t hesitate, not for a minute,” she pointed out. “There has to be a reason for that.”

  “There is, and we’ll discuss it later. Dinner won’t be ready until around six-thirty. We got a little sidetracked this afternoon when Hutton thought Quake, that’s our family dog, ran off. Turns out, he’d found a quiet place to take a nap under the back staircase without two little kids driving him nuts. Look, take a nap or whatever you want and enjoy your time here. Don’t let Scott upset you.”

  Julianne drew in a quiet breath as she spun around in the luxurious room. She considered whether or not Scott had upset her. So far she couldn’t say that he had. Sure, she’d been annoyed because he hadn’t told her who he was that day at the house. But under the circumstances she probably wouldn’t have believed him anyway.

  “I mean, what could you do? Tell me you were a ghost right off the bat?” she muttered aloud as she set out her makeup and toiletries on the bathroom counter. Was that why he hadn’t bothered with sticking around?

  After unpacking her things, she threw open the French doors and walked out to the back deck, craned her neck to get a better look at the courtyard below. Even in winter the pathways burst with color. Orange lilies, yellow daisies, and lavender flounced in the breeze like models showing off on a Paris runway.

  Was it silly to hope she could eat her bagel and jam out there tomorrow morning in the outdoor eating area among all the blossoms and fragrant petals?

  The winding pathways led through forty-foot cypress, magnolias, and maples. Tall pines gave way to the majestic cliff. But it was the ocean in the distance that made her want to explore through the trails to reach the edge.

  She slid out of her pumps, got rid of the blouse and skirt she’d worn to school. Changing into a pair of jeans and a sweater, she laced up her sneakers, threw on a jacket so she could take that walk around the grounds.

  Making her way down the back staircase, she slipped out the door of the laundry room onto the travertine-paved terrace. There, she filled her lungs with the crisp air of late afternoon. She stopped to brush her hand over the tops of the slender red tulips before deciding which path to take to get to the bluffs. The grove of coniferous larch drew her toward the sea.

  But first she had to navigate a narrow sliver of trail that led to underbrush and wild tangled vines full of ripe blackberries. She was by no means an expert at hiking through woods, but she knew enough to follow the ridgeline. As she passed through a field of Indian paintbrush that exploded with swatches of scarlet, on impulse, she dug out her camera phone to capture the vibrant wildflowers and started clicking.

  When she took off walking again, she found herself among rows and rows of apple and cherry trees. The fields and rolling hills sprang to life with new blossoms and budding shrubs. She got a strong whiff of floral scent mingled with the smell of man
ure right before she actually spotted the fat black-and-white cows. The animals plodded along behind a solitary man who seemed so content with the chore he actually had a swagger about him.

  Even as she watched Ryder McLachlan herd them into the barn, there was an aura of mystery about him. The man she’d met two days ago was an enigma, hoarding his past like a miser. He gave off vibes that said he had a stubborn streak a mile wide and twice as deep. But then what man didn’t. He’d made it clear he didn’t want to be attracted to her, or anyone for that matter.

  She should leave it at that. With everything on her plate—the move, getting a house, a new job on the horizon—the last thing she needed was to add a stubborn persona into the mix of her chaotic life. But there was something about this particular guy she found intriguing. The way his eyes flared whenever they disagreed, like Wednesday night. The way he’d looked at her during their spat—as if with one deft stroke of a lean finger he could pluck out every secret she’d held since fourth grade.

  Although Julianne didn’t have much mystery about her, or many secrets to reveal, she liked to think loyalty came first. Therefore even Ryder’s hotness couldn’t get her to so easily crack under his touch.

  Before yanking the barn door open, she took a deep breath. For the first time in a long time, Julianne decided she wanted to dig deeper into what troubled the farmer. After all, they were both starting over in a new place. It seemed like the neighborly thing to do.

  As soon as she threw back the door the unexpected sound of soft rock hit her. She realized the building wasn’t a barn at all but a milking station. While Starship’s Grace Slick and Mickey Thomas promised that nothing was gonna stop them now, across the sea of cows, Julianne caught the annoyed look on Ryder’s face at the interruption.

  “Well, look at this ladies we have us a visitor.”

  “Interesting taste in music.”