Sweetheart Cottage (Cranberry Bay #1)

by Mindy Hardwick

  Sawyer leaned back in his chair. “That is up to you to figure out.”

  Bryan licked his lips. His mouth tasted dry. “You know Rylee and I are never going to be together. That’s over.” The words felt like lies on his tongue, and he forced them out. He and Rylee were over. She’d made that clear the morning he found her note telling him she’d returned to Las Vegas. He’d tried to contact her a couple times, but each time, her phone went only to voice mail. As the weeks turned into months, his hope of her returning dwindled, and, finally, he’d done the only thing he knew how to do to get over her; He married someone else. The marriage had lasted only eighteen months, and he had never forgotten Rylee Harper.

  Sawyer bit into a small tomato. He shrugged. “I don’t really care what you and Rylee Harper do or don’t do.”

  “Then why are you setting up this bet about her?”

  “Because…” Sawyer placed his hands on the table and leaned forward, “I’d offer you the money, but I know you’ll never take it without a challenge. You like the challenge, and Rylee Harper is the best challenge I see right now. She is the perfect candidate for convincing that Cranberry Bay has something to offer.”

  Bryan forked a piece of meat. His head pounded. He’d never win the bet. Rylee had no intention of staying in Cranberry Bay. She made that clear today. She had no more desire to stay in Cranberry Bay today than she did ten years ago when she left and broke his heart. But he also needed money. He needed a way to save Cranberry Bay and prove to the town and himself he could be what his Dad had claimed he couldn’t be—a success. The bank wouldn’t give him the loan, and time was ticking. If he didn’t do something, the town that he’d grown up in, the people he cared about, and the place he loved would become nonexistent. He could not allow that to happen.

  Lauren leaned over to him. “Are they closing my school? Please don’t let them close it.”

  Bryan gazed into his niece’s pleading eyes. She’d already lost so much when her Mom died of cancer; he couldn’t allow her to lose her elementary school too. Not when he could do something to save the town.

  Bryan jerked his head back up and stared at Sawyer. “Game on.” He would find a way to convince Rylee Harper to stay without allowing his heart to be shattered.

  Chapter Three

  Rylee pulled up in front of her Grandparents’ two-story bungalow. Rain poured off the roof and out of the gutters. An overturned set of lawn chairs lay haphazardly on the covered porch. A pile of wet wood leaned against a cedar fence beside the closed garage door. Grandpa had loved working on broken lawn mowers, bikes, and old cars, and he never shut the garage door. It was how she met Bryan, all those years ago. He’d been one of the many young men of Cranberry Bay whom Grandpa had mentored in the art of mechanics during their high school and college years. She stared at the dark house and swallowed a lump. Memories filled her mind of colorful red-and-white geraniums planted in large blue pots and an American flag flying on the porch.

  Raisin whined from the backseat.

  “Okay, bud. We’re here.” It was silly to think the house would resemble her childhood memories. The lawyer warned her that after her grandfather died, her grandmother hadn’t been able to take care of the home. He told her things wouldn’t look like she remembered. Rylee pulled out a small tablet of paper from her purse. She jotted down: Clean the gutter. Sweep the porch. Mow the lawn. Rylee tucked the small tablet into her purse as the tension in her shoulders eased with the organization of her list.

  Rylee stepped out of the car, opened the backdoor, and clipped Raisin’s leash to his collar. The dog hopped to the ground and shook himself. The trainer she’d taken Raisin to for a few lessons told her to look for the “shake-offs.” A dog that had been abandoned often demonstrated signs of stress about riding in cars. The shake-off was a way of shaking off the stress. Rylee wanted to do her own shake off as she led Raisin through the overgrown front yard.

  Raisin peed on a peeling porch post, and after he finished, Rylee tugged on his leash and headed up the front steps. She walked over a loose board and onto the wooden deck. The lawyer, Jack Perkins, hadn’t given her a set of keys. He’d instructed her to stop by his office in town. But Rylee doubted he’d still be at his office on a dark and rainy fall evening. Most likely, he’d be at home eating dinner and enjoying a relaxing evening with family.

  She took two steps to the left side of the porch, reached her hand underneath the rotted wooden beam, and found the plastic key box. Grandpa had installed the lockbox one summer during her visit. Her grandparents had needed to travel to Portland for the day to visit with a doctor. Rylee convinced them that, at age thirteen, she was old enough to stay home by herself. But when she left for the library, Rylee locked the door handle and forgot to take the set of keys. She spent the day reading stacks of books about starting a business. By four-o-clock, she was hungry and a light rain covered the sidewalks. By the time her grandparents arrived home, she’d fallen asleep, leaning against the porch railing. The next day, Grandpa walked to the local hardware store and bought a key box to install. He programmed the code to be her birthday, so she would always remember.

  Rylee clicked the numbers on the box, and, with a little tug, lifted off the lid. She took the key out of the box and inserted it into the door. The door stuck, and she gave it a hard push with her shoulder. As she stepped inside, the smell of cat urine and raw sewage overpowered her. Rylee quickly grabbed her sweater and jerked the collar over her nose. She reached for the wall light switch and turned it to “On.” Nothing happened. Rylee gritted her teeth. Of course the lights wouldn’t work. No one had been paying the bills. Mentally, she added call the electric company and add her name to the billing, as well as call the gas company for heat onto her list of things to do.

  Carefully, Rylee stretched her hand out and made her way through the darkened living room and into the hallway. She kept her fingers trailing along the wall as she moved slowly in the dark. A small bit of light from the street streamed in from the living room windows and gave her a bit of help in seeing her way. If she could reach the closet, Grandma always stored a box of storm supplies, including a radio, battery, and flashlights, inside a plastic bin in the closet. Suddenly, Rylee’s hand felt the closet doorknob, and she pulled it open. The plastic tub lay in the same place it had always been, at the bottom. A stack of kitchen towels rested on top of the tub. Rylee pulled out a small hand towel and buried her face in it. The softness reminded her of Grandma, and the tears bubbled in her throat.

  Raisin pressed his cold nose against Rylee’s side. She reached down to pet him, and his soft fur calmed her. Rylee placed the towel on the floor and reached back into the closet. She flipped open the tub lid and grabbed the flashlight. Thankfully, the flashlight still had a small bit of charge, and a dim light bounced off the walls of the living room. A large water stain ran from the ceiling, down the wall, and to the floorboards. Parts of the ceiling plaster lay scattered across the floor. Rylee clenched her teeth as she added to her list the growing number of items that needed repair.

  Scurrying noises moved above her head, and Raisin barked sharply. Rylee shivered. Rats or raccoons? Raisin bolted up the stairs, panting and barking. “Raisin!” Rylee hollered. A raccoon could tear him apart. Rylee ran behind him and clutched the flashlight in front of her. She tried not to think about small critters jumping from ceiling beams and into her hair.

  Raisin bolted into the bathroom and stopped at the edge of the tub. He barked twice. Rylee cautiously leaned over the porcelain. A calico cat with five kittens was tucked in the corner. The cat hissed and scrunched closer to the kittens. Rylee grabbed Raisin by the scruff of the neck and pushed him out of the bathroom.

  “Stay,” she said. Raisin sat on the hardwood floor and stared at her. He let out a small whine. His eyes pleaded with her. It was the same look he gave her when she allowed him to sleep on the bed with her. But this time, Rylee shook her head and shut the bathroom door. From the other side, she heard Raisin press
against the door as he lay down beside it.

  Cool air blew inside the small bathroom from the open window above the tub. Rylee sank to the old and faded bathroom mat. She leaned against the toilet and rested the flashlight on the floor. The dim light bounced off the full-length mirror attached to the back of the door. How had things derailed so badly? Ryle fingered the fringed bath rug. She’d followed all of the best practices in business and had risen to the top of the decorating world in Las Vegas. She traveled the world, scouring antique markets for just the right touch for her clients. She donated large amounts of money to various nonprofits all over the Vegas area, and she paid her father’s constant gambling debts. She served on the Chamber of Commerce Board and enjoyed elaborate parties and tickets to top name shows in Vegas. But none of it had mattered; her best friend had still run off with her half of the business and a man Rylee had once believed she could love more than she had once loved Bryan. That was something that, after seeing Bryan again, Rylee realized wasn’t true. Her heart had never forgotten her first love, and she’d just been fooling herself.

  A quiet meow came from inside the bathtub, and Rylee raised herself to her knees. She peered over the edge. A pair of dark black eyes stared back at her. “I bet you didn’t plan for things to end up this way either, did you?”

  A knock at the front door jolted Rylee to her feet. She grabbed the flashlight and quickly hurried down the stairs to the entryway. Her heart pounded. Who was visiting now? The residents of Cranberry Bay were a generous and supportive group, but on a rainy, stormy night like this, Rylee doubted any of them would have braved the storm to stop by for a cup of coffee.

  At the front door, she pulled aside the dusty window curtains and peered outside. Bryan’s kind smile beamed at her. He waved, and she pulled open the door.

  “What are you doing here?” Rylee placed her hands on her hips and didn’t move out of the way or invite him in.

  “I was just finishing up our weekly family dinner.” Bryan took a step back on the small porch. The smile vanished from his face. “I wanted to check if you needed anything.” He peered beyond her into the dark house. “The lights aren’t on?”

  “The lights are not on,” Rylee said, exhaling. “There is a family of cats in the upstairs bathroom, a leaking roof, water damage down the side of the living room wall, and the place smells like sewage.” The story poured out of Rylee like the rushing river running alongside the town.

  “Why don’t I get some guys over here to take care of things in the morning? I know quite a few people in town who’d love to make a little extra cash.”

  “No,” Rylee said. “I’ll find a way to deal with it.” She needed a little extra cash herself, and, even more importantly, she didn’t want to run the risk of hiring someone who had been her Dad’s friend and would question her about him. She didn’t have answers for the town or herself as to how the town’s superstar baseball player could dissolve into a gambling addict who lived on the streets of Vegas. “In the daylight, things will look better.” She honestly couldn’t imagine how things could look better in the light. Most likely, they would look worse.

  “You can’t stay here.” Bryan peered into the darkness behind Rylee. “There aren’t any lights and it’s freezing. Why don’t I show you the River Rock Inn? It’s a gorgeous old place with rooms on the river. They have a couple rooms that are pet friendly.” He stuck his hands in his pockets, and his eyes softened. “There’s a good bakery right next door. Sasha, the owner makes the best turkey sandwiches and serves a strong coffee. She’s usually open in the evenings. I’m headed over to the office to work a bit. The bakery and inn are right around the corner. Why don’t you follow me in your car with Raisin?”

  Rylee took a deep breath. There was no way she could pay for a night at the inn, but a sandwich did sound good. She’d have something to eat, and then return to the house to sleep. In the morning, things would look better.

  “A sandwich sounds great.” Rylee called Raisin to her side and grabbed her purse. “I’ll follow you.”

  “Wait.” Bryan shrugged out of his heavy raincoat. “It’s cold out there. Take this. I’ve got another one at the office. I’ll pick it up.”

  Rylee shook her head at his offer. “I’ll grab something from the closet. I’m sure Grandma had a coat or two that will fit me.” She turned around and opened the coat closet. The empty hangers hung in a row, and a small wadded up piece of gum wrapper lay on the floor. “Grandma didn’t have any coats?”

  “She gave them away,” Bryan said. “Mom helped her with a huge garage sale last summer. I think she knew her time was short.”

  Rylee wrapped her arms around herself. Her insides shook. Her Grandma had known she didn’t have long to live, but she hadn’t called her to come back. Did Grandma not want to run the risk of calling her, knowing her father might also return and show the town who he’d become? Or did Grandma not want to risk asking her, knowing she’d declined all the other offers to return? Rylee had claimed important business commitments, which now seemed less important in the face of her death.

  “Rylee?”

  “Yes. Thank you.” Rylee lifted the coat from Bryan’s hand. She slipped into the coat and struggled to find the second sleeve.

  Bryan stepped up behind her and lifted the coat, so she could slip her left arm inside. “It’s a bit big, but it’s warm and will keep the rain off you.”

  The aspen smell of his scent clung to the coat, and she pulled it tighter around her. Keep yourself together, she warned herself. She could not risk getting close to Bryan again. He didn’t understand how loving someone the way she had once loved him put everything she and her family had always kept in secret about her father in jeopardy. Bryan had a beautiful family whom he loved and who loved him. He and the rest of the town did not need to see her father standing on the street corner with a cardboard sign, begging for more money to gamble. Shame filled her as she thought of how often she’d found her father digging for food at one of the fast-food restaurant’s Dumpsters. “Thank you. I’m sure it will be fine until tomorrow when I can get my own coat.”

  Bryan held open the front door. “After you.”

  Rylee stepped past him, and as she brushed against his solid chest, she felt his sharp intake of breath. Then the moment vanished, and she wondered if it had happened at all as they hustled down the walk and into separate cars.

  Minutes later, Rylee drove her car slowly through the town’s tree-lined streets. Wide sidewalks, Craftsman-style homes, and grassy front yards covered each block. On a nice day, she and Raisin could walk into town. But tonight, the wind blew the leaves across the pavement and small evergreen branches littered the sidewalks. Lights glowed from living room windows, and orange pumpkins sat on front porches. The smell of fireplace wood smoke drifted in through the car ventilators. All of it screamed to her of family and home, things she’d never had and pushed away as ever wanting for herself because they would always be out of her reach.

  Bryan drove slowly, as if he was giving her a tour and allowing her all the time she wanted to take in the small town. As she passed each home, memories flooded Rylee. Memories of sitting on front porches with her grandparents, memories of walking with her Grandpa to town for an ice cream cone, and memories of stopping at the local hardware store to pick up a few things he needed.

  On Main Street, Bryan pulled to a stop in front of a yellow, two-story building. Black shutters lined the windows and a small white light glowed from each room. A strand of white lights outlined a wooden sign with green letters hung above the front door, “River Rock Inn.”

  Rylee pulled her car behind Bryan’s and stared at the warm lights inside the building. She wanted nothing more than to walk inside, check in, and go lie down on a thick cushioned bed and sleep for days. But she couldn’t and, even more importantly, she couldn’t tell Bryan each dollar left in her savings account was carefully accounted for until the sale of the house. She knew he would offer to pay for the night, and she could
n’t allow him to do so.

  Bryan stepped out of his car and walked to her window.

  “Gracie serves an amazing breakfast in the morning. She buys the scones and breads from Sasha’s bakery. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.” Bryan smiled at her, unaware of the conflicting emotions racing inside her.

  Rylee looked away from him. “I’m sure it’s great.”

  “Everything okay?”

  “Sure,” Rylee said. “I’ll just park here and check-in. You don’t have to wait.” Her voice sounded calm and steady. Lies to cover and smooth everything, something she’d learned watching her Dad work the creditors who called their home constantly. Of course, the biggest lie had been the one, unspoken, between them and her grandparents—the lie of her father’s gambling, which kept all of them apart and unable to reach out for each other.

  Bryan peered closely at her. “I’ll be over at the office for a few hours if you need anything.”

  “What exactly do you do?” Rylee asked suddenly.

  “I’m a real estate agent,” Bryan said, and winked at her.

  “A real estate agent?”

  “Yes. I just got my license a few weeks ago. You wouldn’t happen to know anyone who needs a broker to sell something would you?”

  “No,” Rylee said. “I mean, yes, I do, but…” she paused. She could not work with Bryan. She needed to limit her time with him lest the old feelings come back, and she’d have to make the same decision she did before—to leave not only Cranberry Bay but also Bryan. Rylee lifted her shoulders and looked Bryan in the eyes.

  “This isn’t anything against your company, which I’m sure is wonderful,” she smiled tightly. “But I’d like to use a real estate agent from the Portland area. I think they might know a bigger market of people who would be interested in the home.”

  “Most of the agents in Portland aren’t too interested in our market,” Bryan said smoothly, without a trace of disappointment in his voice. “But you might get lucky and find someone who wants to pick something up. Of course,” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a card. “If you change your mind, here is my card. Not that you need it,” he said and grinned. “Anyone in town can point you in my direction. I’m the only agent in Cranberry Bay.”