Sweetheart Cottage (Cranberry Bay #1)

by Mindy Hardwick

  “You never know how things will work out,” Dennis said. “Mrs. Perkins and I didn’t have our kids until late in life. There’s plenty of time left.”

  “Yes, well…” Bryan reached into his desk and pulled out a thick sheaf of papers. Before he could even think about a family, he needed to focus on making an income. “Let me get some information from you. I’ll have the cottages up on the multiple listings by this evening and add a few photos tomorrow.”

  Dennis cleared his throat. “Allison thinks the cottages would sell better if they were fixed up a bit. I told her fishing cottages were always popular. But she seemed to think otherwise.”

  “Houses do sell better if they are staged.” Bryan twirled his pen between his fingers. “The market isn’t exactly booming in Cranberry Bay and staging them to be vacation cottages would help the sale. They’re sold as a single listing, yes?”

  “Yes. All six cottages are one lot.”

  “Is the staging something Mrs. Perkins wants to do?”

  “No.” Dennis lowered his voice as a shadow crossed his face. “I’m afraid not. She doesn’t want this to get around town, so please don’t say anything.” Dennis swallowed. “She’s been sick lately. The doctors aren’t sure what’s wrong. We’ve taken a lot of trips to see doctors in Portland, and they’re doing some tests.”

  Bryan’s heart contracted. He adored his teacher. As a first-grader, he was slow to catch on to reading. Instead of allowing him to slip behind, Mrs. Perkins spent long afternoons teaching him how to sound out letters. By the end of the year, he had advanced into second grade as a reader.

  “I’m so sorry to hear. I’ll take care of the staging. We’ll work it on a commission basis and take the payment from the sale of the cottages.”

  “Thank you.” Dennis nodded to him and stood. “I know your Dad would be proud of you.”

  Bryan lowered his eyes and fiddled with his pen. He doubted his Dad would be proud of him. He’d become exactly what Dad had always suspected he would—someone who didn’t have a direction or a strong focus but instead floated from low-paying job to low-paying job.

  “Of course he’d be proud,” Dennis said, his voice echoing off the empty office walls. “Your Dad always talked about how proud he was of all of you.”

  “Of course,” Bryan said. He clenched his jaw and bit back the shame he’d known all his life. Dad hadn’t been proud of him. Unlike his brothers and sister, he’d been a disappointment to his father. He didn’t excel at baseball like Sawyer. He didn’t excel at basketball like Adam. He didn’t like sports at all. Instead, all he wanted to do was play his guitar. His father lectured him on how music would never get him anywhere besides a tavern at the beach. And, Bryan’s chest tightened, his father had been right. He’d tried to make a living as a musician and quickly discovered playing nightly gigs at the beach taverns wouldn’t cover the rent. Seasonal work never paid enough, and most people had to juggle multiple jobs in order to live full time in the small beach communities surrounding Cranberry Bay.

  Bryan pushed the painful memories aside. He stood and leaned over the desk to shake Dennis’s hand. “We’ll be in touch soon. Please tell Mrs. Perkins I said hello.”

  After Dennis left, the silence in the small office chilled him. He’d never worked well by himself, preferring instead to be surrounded by life and activity. Bryan grabbed his black leather over-the-shoulder bag and shoved a couple of folders inside. He slipped his small laptop computer into the largest compartment of the bag and pulled his jacket from a small nail behind the door. Outside, the air smelled of fires crackling in wood-burning stoves. Bryan made a mental note to make sure Mom had enough dry wood to last for the next couple months. He headed down the hill toward the local pub.

  A minute later, he pulled open the heavy wooden door. A fire crackled in the stone fireplace, and a large-screen TV broadcast a college football game on the corner wall. Tom Hathaway, owner of the town hardware store, played a game of pool with Chuck Dawson, owner of the tackle-and-boat-rental shop.

  “Want to join us?” Chuck lowered his cue to the table. He leaned down and cued the ball into the right pocket.

  “No, thanks.” Bryan patted his black satchel. “I’ve got a little work to do.”

  Bryan strode by the bar, where Josh Morton and Jack Richardson studied a long spreadsheet. Josh ran the town’s historic train from the small depot. Once the town had been on the way to Portland, but all that changed a few years ago when the train companies realized the tourists didn’t want to come to Cranberry Bay. They wanted to go to the beach towns. Josh’s grandfather had spent his career as a train conductor, and, after he passed away, Josh had set up a nonprofit for the town’s old train depot and surrounding tracks. On fall weekends, Josh ran a special fall-leaves train ride that always brought a flurry of people to Cranberry Bay. But the signature event was the Santa train, complete with hot cocoa and cookies and children wearing their pajamas. The event was a favorite of Lauren’s, and she always convinced all of them to make it a family occasion. Unfortunately, most of the time heavy winds and rainstorms pounded the area, and the holiday train drew only small groups of locals.

  Bryan headed toward the back corner booth and quickly sank onto the hard bench. As he waited for his laptop to boot up, he ran his fingers over etched initials carved in the tabletop. It’d been a ritual for Cranberry Bay couples to carve their names in the tables. His parents’ initials were on the table under the front window. Sawyer and Ginger had carved theirs in a front table by the door. And, if he walked to the table in the far right-hand corner, he’d find Rylee’s and his initials, etched together and encircled with a heart. They’d worked on it for weeks the summer they both turned twenty-one. After she left, he never sat at their table.

  Bryan’s computer beeped as Ivy stepped alongside his table. A brown-and-cream apron covered her jeans and maroon sweater. “What can I get you?”

  “I didn’t know you were working at the pub?” Bryan raised his eyebrows. Ivy’s antique business was one of the few in the town that visitors stopped for on their way to Seashore Cove. Over the last few years, she’d built a strong track record of online sales and kept busy year-round. Unlike other locals, she didn’t need to juggle multiple jobs.

  “Caitlin’s got a nasty flu. Jessica is visiting her sister in college. Bill said we wouldn’t be busy tonight. I told him I’d fill in for a few hours. If I can sell antiques, I can sell a few pints of beer.” Ivy’s light laughter filled the space between them.

  “I’m a part of the microbrew club.” Bryan reached into his wallet for the small, folded card. Every month, he collected a new stamp. At the end of the year, the cards were tossed into a drawing for a free month of drinks. He’d won the first year, but he had quietly slipped his card to Chuck, who’d just lost his son in a car wreck on an icy road.

  “Ah.” Ivy leaned back on her heels. “You’re one of the lucky. I’ll check with Bill to see about the flavor of the month. I’m guessing Pumpkin Ale.”

  “That was last month.” Bryan laid his card on the table and smoothed it with his thumb. “It’s November. New month. New beer.”

  “Gotcha, sir,” Ivy said, playfully. “Do I take the card too?”

  “Yep.” Bryan pushed it toward her. He smiled at her. Ivy and his twin sister had been best friends all through school. She’d joined them at family holidays and always brought a lot of laughter. No one could understand why Ivy hadn’t found that special partner, but Bryan suspected it had something to do with her feelings for Josh. Something that Josh seemed not to notice. “Bill has a stamp he keeps in the left corner of the bar.”

  Ivy shook her head. “You ought to be waiting tables, not me.”

  Bryan shook his head and smiled, as, across the room, Josh waved at Ivy.

  She leaned over and whispered against Bryan’s cheek. “I’ll be right back. Someone is calling me.” Ivy lightly stepped through the center of the pub and stopped in front of Josh. She leaned close to him and touched
his arm.

  Bryan turned back to his work as a song’s lyrics blasting from the pub’s speakers caught him off-guard. It was the song he had once declared as his and Rylee’s. That night, he had pulled his car up alongside the river’s bank, opened the door, and let the music seep into the night air. He held her close and danced with her under a full moon. Something inside him ached. The ache that never quite went away, no matter how much he had tried to get rid of it. He shook himself. He couldn’t think about any of that now. Those days were gone, and he’d never again trust her with his heart. Bryan pulled the listing data back up on his computer. The best thing to do was focus on his work.

  After a few minutes, Ivy set a dark bottle of ale in front of him. “November’s special is a handcrafted beer out of Portland JR’s Brewing. I can’t tell you if it’s any good or not. Josh wouldn’t give anything away.” She laid the folded and stamped card beside him. “But I did get you a stamp for November.”

  “Thanks.” Bryan took a drink. It was a little sweeter than he liked his ale, but he’d never been one to complain.

  The front door opened, and a blast of cold air shot through the pub. Councilman Cole Mays and Mayor Mitch Webb stepped inside. Both of them shook their dark jackets, and water splashed off their shoulders. Bryan peered at one of the large upper windows. The trees swayed, and water ran down the outside pane.

  Mitch spotted Bryan, nodded, and headed his way. Cole stopped to talk to Jack and Josh.

  “You’re not trying to work are you?” Mitch slid into the booth opposite him.

  “Nah.” Bryan shut his manila folder. He grinned at his longtime childhood friend.

  “Good. Because the town council meeting is over, and I need a beer.” He glanced at the heated game of pool between Chuck and Tom. “Maybe even a good game of pool.”

  “Bad?” Bryan drank another swig of beer. He wiped his upper lip with his index finger.

  “It’s always the same.” Mitch shook his head. “Until we get some new blood into town with new ideas, nothing is going to change on the council.”

  “What about some old blood with new ideas?”

  “Sounds good,” Mitch said. “Someone you know got something? Sawyer?”

  Bryan clenched his jaw. Of course, Mitch would assume Sawyer had ideas for how to help Cranberry Bay. Everyone always looked to Sawyer. First as captain of the high school baseball team and later as one of the area’s largest residential developers.

  Cole slipped into the seat beside Mitch. He leaned back and stuck his long legs out from under the table. “What’s going on with Sawyer? Did he score some more land?” Cole ran his hand through his thick dark hair.

  “Most likely.” Bryan took a long swig of his drink. His brother scooped up land like it was a handful of chocolates at a holiday party.

  “Got room for one more?” Josh slipped into the booth beside Bryan, jarring him and shoving him to the left corner.

  Bryan straightened and gave Josh a playful shove back. “Always.” Sometimes he felt closer to his longtime childhood playmates than he did to his own brothers. They’d bonded over an elementary lunchroom table, four apples, and three ice cream sandwiches and had seen each other through the ups and downs of their lives.

  “What’ve you got?” Mitch rubbed his brow. “I’m up for anything at this point. We’re really scraping the bottom of the barrel. The elementary school is going to close soon if we can’t get some new families in this town. But we need jobs to attract people. Something we’re a little short on.”

  “Well,” Bryan’s heart pounded in his chest. He hadn’t told anyone of his idea. He had wanted to wait until he secured funding before talking about it. But he’d never dream of holding out on his friends. “I think what this town needs is some new fun. We need ways to draw people away from the beach towns and over here for a night or two on their vacations.”

  “I agree.” Mitch said. Ivy set a glass of dark ale on the table, and he took a swig. “We need something for all ages. Fishing and clamming is great, but it doesn’t exactly draw the ladies in. We need something that draws them to Cranberry Bay to stay for at least a night.”

  “Exactly,” Bryan said. He cleared his throat. “I’ve got my eye on a set of riverboats. One is a restaurant, and the other is a casino. It’d be just the thing to encourage people to visit.”

  “But we’re not on tribal lands,” Josh said, frowning. “I didn’t think gambling could be on land that wasn’t tribal.”

  “Some types of gambling are okay. The state calls it social gambling.” Bryan leaned back in the booth. “I’ve done some research. We can have gambling boats outside of tribal lands. People gamble and win money, but the house can’t take a cut of what people make on their winnings.”

  “But how does the gambling make money for the town?” Mitch said, frowning again. “The riverboats won’t do us any good if they’re not making money.”

  “There is a charge for the entrance to the riverboat. We also charge for food and drink, and we offer things like Ladies Nights Out and Poker Nights, where the alcohol flows. All of which require a small cover charge.” Bryan straightened and leaned forward. “The best part is the food and drinks require a chef and kitchen staff, as well as waitresses and hostesses. Everything adds up to jobs for Cranberry Bay. People will need somewhere to spend the night afterward. This increases the need for lodging and other businesses along the Main Street. Some of those buildings have been empty for years.”

  “What kind of gambling games do people play on the boat?” Cole said, eyeing him with interest.

  “The basics. Roulette. Craps. Blackjack.”

  “Sounds great to me,” Josh said. “Attracting new people to town would help with the train, too. We could offer more runs if people wanted them.” He lowered his voice. “We’ve got a big repair coming up on one of the engines. We’ll have to do a fund-raiser for it.”

  “Fund-raisers.” Mitch snapped his fingers “I bet we could host a lot of fund-raisers on the riverboats.”

  “Fund-raisers are great,” Bryan said. “But the prizes need to be non-cash, which shouldn’t be a problem. Everyone loves those baskets loaded with goodies for things like Italian dinners and family game nights.” He had won a big chocolate basket during the volunteer firefighters’ annual dinner. A lot of the chocolate had landed in Lauren’s holiday stocking that year.

  “A fancy dinner would be something people could get behind,” Mitch said. “My wife was just saying she wished there were more opportunities to get dressed up.” He smiled. “I can’t say I blame her. I kinda like it myself.”

  Bryan grinned at Mitch. He’d married his high school sweetheart, and the two of them had been on their honeymoon ever since. They’d been the envy of all their friends, none of whom had found the right partner yet. “So, you think it’s a good idea?” A flicker of hope rose in Bryan’s chest. “I’ll need to propose it to the council and get their approval. It would help if I had you on board first.”

  “You’ve got my vote.” Cole nodded. “I think it’s a great idea. Wish I thought of it myself to tell you the truth.”

  “You’ve got my vote,” Mitch said. “And I can talk to some of the others and give them a heads-up. But the council will want to know you’ve secured funding. No one wants another replay of what happened last time.”

  “I promise it won’t be a repeat of last time.” Bryan remembered how he’d gotten caught up in the plans for an amusement park with an investor. He’d met the man on a ski trip to Mount Baker, and, after a couple nights in the ski lodge bar, the man had pledged his support for the multimillion-dollar idea. The idea quickly fell apart after the investor saw the statistics on Cranberry Bay, and he backed out of the whole deal at the last second, just before Bryan had been scheduled to take it to a council vote. “Sawyer and I have a deal for some investment monies on this project.”

  Mitch leaned closer. “Spill it. What’s the deal?”

  “There’s a little bet on the table.” Bry
an averted his eyes from his friends.

  “What’s the bet?” Cole leaned forward.

  Bryan cleared his throat. “If I can convince Rylee Harper to move to Cranberry Bay, Sawyer will fund the boats.”

  “Rylee Harper?” Mitch said. “You planned to marry her about ten years ago, right?”

  “Yea.” Bryan shifted away from his friends and gazed toward the blazing fire in the fireplace. “She’s selling her grandmother’s home and staying in Cranberry Bay for a few weeks.”

  “Ah,” Mitch said, and shook his head. “The riverboats were a good idea. But, that bet, I don’t know…”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Bryan punched Mitch in the arm.

  “I don’t mean to dampen this flame,” Cole said. “But what’s going to make Rylee move to Cranberry Bay? Didn’t she go running out of here last time? And you were practically engaged, right? So, how come it’s going to be different?”

  “She needs a job,” Josh said. He took a long drink of his beer. “I heard she was wandering all over town looking for work the other day. She stopped by the train depot and asked if we needed any help.”

  “She needs work?” Bryan quickly turned to face Josh. If Rylee needed work, that was a good sign. If she had a job she liked, that was the first step toward convincing her Cranberry Bay could be home.

  “Something about repairs on her grandmother’s house costing too much and taking longer.” Josh shrugged. “Don’t tell her you heard it from me.”

  The river cottages and his conversation with Dennis flashed across Bryan’s mind. Excitement pooled in his stomach. It was perfect. Rylee had a background in design. But he doubted the beach towns had looked twice at her. The small towns thrived on using locals, not someone who breezed in from Vegas for a few weeks. The cottage staging would fit what she was looking for to help pay for her grandmother’s repairs. And once word got out about her abilities, he suspected the beach hotels would be more interested in her and offer her more work, something she might not be able to refuse. That would ensure him a chance for her to see if Cranberry Bay could be home.