Last Chance Harbor

by Vickie McKeehan

  She inched her way to his body, hovered over his face. Their lips met, hunger ramping up. His hands roamed down her back, gripped her butt.

  From the sandbank, they heard voices, laughter. Both realized about the same time they weren’t alone.

  In a split second, she banked her passion, rushed back into the present. She rolled to the side. “I recognize that voice.”

  A flicker of annoyance flashed over Ryder’s face. He flopped on his belly, scooted so he could pop his head up around a patch of wild buckwheat to get a look at the spot where they’d left the boat.

  “It’s Troy and he’s with Bree. Looks like we have company.”

  “Damn, that is so not right.”

  Troy and Bree had spent the morning sending text messages back and forth which had Bree agreeing to come early enough so they could row over to Treasure Island before they ate supper. But Troy had a surprise in store.

  He’d spent his Sunday prepping the apartment for Bree’s visit, doing all the necessary chores he’d neglected during the week—dishes and clothes tended to pile up. He took out the trash, dusted, and changed the sheets on the bed. He piled up all the dirty laundry, tossed it into a basket and took it to the main house for washing.

  He’d done all that before Bree drove up in her Chevy Cavalier.

  As soon as she got out, he’d met her at the bottom of the steps leading to the studio.

  “Was Zach really upset about you coming here today?”

  “Nah. He just doesn’t like the idea of me dating. Period. Especially since Dad died. It seems he’s appointed himself my substitute father.”

  “Has he always been this possessive?”

  “Not at all. That seemed to come with the stand-in father thing once he got back home from Colorado. We’ve discussed his overprotective attitude before. What did you fix me for dinner?”

  “I hope you aren’t disappointed but I put together a picnic basket. I thought it’d be a surprise for when we get to the island. But I do have to lug the thing to the boat.”

  “Why would I be disappointed? A picnic on the island sounds so romantic!” She threw her arms around his neck to prove it.

  “Jordan suggested I cut the crust off the bread. It makes the sandwiches look more like finger food, so I did.”

  “Why Troy, that’s so fancy. If I remember correctly, you like the outdoors, like to surf? Could we finagle a surfboard in the boat?”

  “Already have a short board picked out. We’ll have to take turns though. And I know you like the water.”

  “Hey, remember our senior trip? We went down to San Diego and spent all that time surfing at Swami’s.”

  “Good swells there. But what I recall most is you in a bikini. I particularly liked that red one you wore that set off your hair.”

  “How do you remember that? I got sunburned that trip, was so burned it hurt no matter how much aloe vera I slathered on. In fact, we both looked like lobsters—you with your pale skin and me with mine. That’s what I remember.”

  “What do you plan on doing when you graduate in May?” Troy asked.

  “That’s a tough question. I might have to head to Santa Cruz or even San Jose to find work.”

  “What would you think about opening up your own excursion business?”

  “What excursion business? How? I make tips, Troy? I don’t have money to invest in—”

  He cut her off. “Nick might need someone to ferry guests back and forth to visit the island during the B&B’s busy season, take people out to that old shipwreck Ethan wrote about in his book, too.”

  “You’re serious about this.”

  “Yeah, and so is Nick. He called it a cottage industry. You’d need a larger touring boat and a base but it could be a moneymaker.”

  “Wow, I’d have to think about it. I’ve taken business courses and all but I never once considered owning my own. So when do I get to see your apartment?”

  “Later when we get back. I want to get going while we still have the light.”

  They’d toted the basket down to the Cove like the kids they’d once been. They had no way of knowing anyone else had already converged on their romantic island getaway.

  The island was too small to go undetected for long. So Ryder decided to confront the issue head on. He made his way down the slope to shore. But Troy had already spotted the other dinghy bobbing in the water. Neither man could say they were overjoyed to see the other and spend their afternoon together.

  “What are you doing here?” Ryder asked.

  “Same thing you are,” Troy returned. “This was my plan.”

  As disappointed as Troy felt, Bree was clearly in the other camp. At the thought of a get-together, her cheerful nature kicked in. She chatted away like a magpie. “What luck that you and Troy had the same idea. Great minds think alike. You must be here with Julianne. Perfect. We can combine our picnic baskets. It’ll be like potluck.”

  “We’re just up the hill there,” Ryder directed Bree, who took off in a jog.

  But Troy lagged behind and murmured, “You ripped off my idea. Admit it. You knew I planned to bring Bree here today and you beat me here.”

  Ryder blew out a guilty breath. “I guess I did. I forgot you called dibs. My fault. In my defense though, I wanted to show Julianne a nice afternoon before her weekend ended and she had to head back to Santa Cruz.”

  Troy adjusted his ball cap down over his curly hair, glanced up ahead where the two women were already chatting away and busy going through the food he’d brought. “It’s too late now. We might as well make the best of it. But this is definitely not the afternoon I had planned out.”

  “Yeah, me either,” Ryder uttered, following Troy up the embankment.

  Chapter Nine

  On Monday, Ryder worked under the sound of a steady rain as it pounded the new roof. The old tar and pitch composition had been the first thing to go last month. Since then they’d revamped it with a thin film coating and solar panels added for energy efficiency.

  “This is the first good rain we’ve had since we started. A good test of workmanship,” Logan told Ryder.

  “How are we doing so far?”

  “Stellar.”

  “How’s Kinsey?”

  Logan let out a huge sigh. “Who knew impending fatherhood would make me as nervous as an old hen scared witless that it’s about to face the chopping block.”

  “That bad?”

  “Worse, in less than two weeks I’ll be the father to, not one, but two babies.”

  “Double the panic.”

  “And then some.”

  Paul Bonner came up to them, followed by Drake Boedecker. “Someone better get over there. Zach and Troy are about to go at each other’s throats.”

  Ryder glanced over at the two men standing nose to nose inside the administration area. “You have enough to deal with,” Ryder said to Logan. “As foreman, I’ll handle this.”

  When he reached Troy and Zach, Ryder barked out, “What the hell is going on over here? This is not the time or the place for crap like this. You sign up to give a hundred percent to a job you do it as a professional, not act like two junior high brawlers. You two want to fight? Do it somewhere else other than this worksite. This is gonna end right here, right now, today, or I’ll know the reason why. Do you both understand me?”

  “Hey, ask Troy why Bree came home all excited last night about some stupid idea this jerk put in her head, some ridiculous notion that she could start an excursion business after she graduates community college in May. Of all the stupid…”

  “It’s not stupid,” Troy stated. “It’s a viable business option.”

  Ryder’s mouth gaped open. “This is what you two are bickering about? You guys are unbelievable. For your information, Zach, I was there Saturday night when Nick told Troy the B&B could use that kind of commercial enterprise around here. Don’t blame Troy for simply suggesting it to your sister.”

  “Really?” Zach said, dropping the attitude. “I
just assumed he was bullshitting her to get her in the sack.”

  “You’ll have to ask him about the why—on your own time. Let’s back up a minute though. Zach, what exactly do you find wrong with Troy dating your sister?”

  “Go on, tell him,” Troy demanded in challenge. “Tell him you don’t want anyone taking Bree out. Not me, not even if I had a million bucks in the bank would it matter. You don’t want anyone going near your sister. Tell him.”

  “Is that true?”

  Zach dropped his stare. “Yeah, I guess it is. Look, ever since our mom died, it’s been up to me to see to it Bree was taken care of. Then when our dad passed away…I don’t know…I guess…I don’t want to think of her like that…with anyone.”

  Ryder relaxed his stance. “Okay. So what you’re basically saying is that you have no real basis for the obstinate attitude you’ve had toward Troy? Is that about right?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Does that mean you’ll stop getting upset every time I talk to Bree?” Troy wanted to know.

  “I’ll try.”

  “Good,” Ryder said. “Have we cleared the air then? Now, could we cut this bullshit between you two and get some work done around here?”

  Later, the crew gathered at the back of the school near the shipping and receiving area to eat lunch and watch the rain come down.

  “I wouldn’t mind owning a business of my own,” Paul said. “If I had the money I’d open up a bicycle shop. I like to fix them up and resell them.”

  “No bikes for me,” Troy said and repeated his dream about making his own surfboards. “Wally Pierce collects the old wooden ones. He has them hanging up all over his garage. They’re really cool.”

  “I don’t even know how to surf,” Ryder admitted. “But I still think I’d like to try and build a boat, make it sleek and fast, one of the wooden kind from long ago.”

  Zach turned to the man he’d been at odds with since the job began. “First chance we get we should show you how to surf,” he suggested. “You can’t truly call yourself a Californian until you’ve been up on a board at least once no matter what your driver’s license says.”

  “Growing up here, learning to surf was like learning to walk,” Troy agreed. “That’s why I showed him a few moves yesterday. He didn’t fall off…much.”

  But instead of ribbing Ryder, Zach latched on to what the boss had said. “Why would you tackle such a career like boatbuilding? Is there any money in that these days?”

  Ryder stared off into the downpour. “The summer before my dad died, I was about nine. He took me to a camp for fathers and sons where the owners taught us how to construct boats, not big ones, but those miniature skiffs you see sailing on the little ponds or lakes. Then my dad died. After that my grandfather, on my mother’s side, picked up the slack. Gramps was as an architect and loved building things in his spare time. It was one of the first times I remember really connecting to the man. Anyway, he saw to it that we went back over the years. And I enjoyed those days creating something with my hands. It’s what I was meant to do.”

  “Why didn’t you?” Troy asked.

  “I went into the military instead.”

  Zach sat hunched with his hands dangling on his knees, considering that. “Did you know there used to be an old shop sandwiched between the fancy restaurant and the marine rescue center across the street from here that built sailboats?”

  “That must’ve been way before my time,” Troy cracked. “I don’t remember it. The place was always empty.”

  “It was there,” Zach insisted. “A Swede by the name of Gunnar Borgerstrom owned it. You used to be able to smell the fresh wood they used and put through the electric saws. My dad worked for him before the town dried up and the place closed its doors.”

  “So you have some idea how to build a boat?” Ryder asked, curious about the man who’d been a thorn in his side in some fashion since the entire project began.

  “Not exactly. But I used to watch my dad work on the hulls. I think it’d be a pretty cool way to earn a living, if you ask me.”

  “That makes two of us,” Ryder said, swallowing a bite of leftover pasta. “I wouldn’t mind seeing the inside of that old storefront. If Nick really is open to making loans to new businesses, I wonder…”

  But Zach’s prickly nature surfaced. “Do you honestly think a man like Nick Harris would lend money to a couple of construction workers for a pipe dream?”

  “I don’t see why not. All he can do is tell us no.”

  “But making surfboards might be more practical, especially around here,” Troy advised. But after thinking about it for a few minutes, he added, “If you do this, I want to be a part of it. I’ve been saving every penny I can scrape together.”

  “Then maybe we could combine the shops. Split it up into two ventures. We’d put out a line of surfboards long before we could ever make our first boat,” Ryder pointed out.

  “Not if we got our boat buyer up front. Although making surfboards might keep us afloat during the time we’re in the design phase. Is this really feasible?” Zach wondered.

  “It doesn’t hurt to explore the possibilities,” Ryder said, packing up his lunch. “But for now, it’s time to head back to work.”

  The bad weather made for a long day without much of a break for her students. Because it had been Julianne’s turn to supervise recess, which didn’t take place outside due to the downpour, she’d spent her time maintaining order in the gym.

  Now, as she sought to correct one of her more active pupils, a headache formed at both temples.

  “Miles, remember to raise your hand each time you want to speak, okay?” Julianne reminded the fidgety six-year-old.

  “Why?”

  That one-word question had her believing the children were just as ready to call it a day as she was.

  “So that I’ll know you have something to say and I’ll know to call on you so you can say it. Think about it. If everyone talked all at once without raising their hand, then I’d have trouble hearing them all at the same time, now wouldn’t I? Do you understand?”

  Miles bobbed his little head, but immediately shot out of his chair. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

  “Go ahead for now, but next time, remember to raise your hand.” Her temples throbbed even more than the dull ache she’d had earlier. Even her eyelids were starting to hurt. It had been one of those Mondays that seemed never-ending.

  When Rita Coffee, a third-grade teacher and potential recruit, tapped on her classroom door, Julianne went to answer it.

  “You don’t look good at all. Is my interview still on for three-thirty?”

  Julianne rubbed at her forehead. “I’m sorry, Rita. I forgot all about it. I hate to do this to you but could we postpone this for a couple days. I’m not feeling well at all.”

  “Sure. You let me know because I’m so excited about starting at a new school.”

  When the blessed final bell rang at three o’clock, all Julianne wanted was to make it to her car and get home. Because of the rain, it took her longer to make a drive that usually took no more than ten minutes at the most. By the time she got home, her dress and shoes were soaking wet. She changed out of her clothes and into a pair of comfy PJs. She barely made it into the kitchen to put on a pot of tea before having to sit down. Cold, she carried her cup and saucer into the bedroom and crawled in between the sheets.

  But by that evening, her fever started to shoot up along with a bout of chills and nausea. She supposed this was the downside to coming in daily contact with children. Knowing it couldn’t be the flu because she’d had a flu shot, she fell asleep without identifying what horrible disease she’d contracted or which one of her thirty students had been the germ carrier.

  After several of his text messages went unanswered, Ryder took the initiative and hunted down the street number for Julianne via Murphy. After learning she’d been sick, he decided he needed to do something.

  It was six-forty-five by the tim
e he pulled his F-150 up to the curb in front of a bungalow as cute as a button and about as small. The lawn was almost nonexistent but the flower beds were draped in deep colors of plum and gold. He’d done his share of landscaping back in Philly and knew from experience she’d made the most of her courtyard on a tight budget. She’d do a whole lot more with the house she planned to buy.

  The windows were the old-fashioned crank kind and the front door was mostly glass.

  He rang the bell and waited.

  When the door flew back, he stood there staring at Julianne. Her hair was tousled. She wore cream-colored pajamas with bright pink and yellow flowers. The cropped top showed a smidgen of bare midriff. The bottoms were snug around her slim waist. But it was her eyes that showed the first indication she didn’t feel well. They looked puffy, red, and glazed.

  “Ryder, what are you doing here?” she croaked out. “I’m sick.”

  “So I heard, but I decided to see for myself.” He held up the bag of provisions he’d picked up from Perry Altman’s fancy restaurant called The Pointe. “My mother always said chicken soup is good for what ails a person, no matter if it’s the flu or a cold or what. Chicken noodle soup puts you on the road to recovery.”

  “But I could be contagious.”

  “I never get sick. Don’t I get to come in?”

  “Oh. Sure.” She swung the door wide so he could enter.

  She noted Perry’s logo on the bag. “You bought me soup from The Pointe?”

  “I did. Perry says to get well soon. Troy pointed out it’s the best soup in town and Zach backed him up. It might be the first time in two months those two have agreed on anything.”

  Smoothing her hair back, she made room at her coffee table for the sack of food by rearranging her box of tissues and nasal spray. “I feel like such a grub.”

  “You’re uncomfortable that I’m here.”

  “I wouldn’t say that, just embarrassed that I look so awful.”

  He took her chin. “You look like you don’t feel good. Big difference. You couldn’t look awful if you tried.”