by Mia Ross
Rustling through the bag, she took out a ham and cheese croissant and washed down a bite of it with her soda. “On the phone you wouldn’t tell me anything about where we’re going. It must be important for you to go all James Bond on me.”
He’d done that on purpose. In a few short hours he’d picked up on the fact that Bree was a visual person, and she responded best to what she saw for herself. But now that he’d piqued her curiosity, he figured it wouldn’t hurt to give her some background. “There’s a place down the coast called Sandy Cove. It’s been abandoned for a couple years now, and I think exploring it will help you with your article. Y’know, a real-life example of what could happen if we don’t do something, and soon.”
“Great idea.” Downing the last of her lunch in one mouthful, she fished out her tablet and stylus. “When was Sandy Cove founded?”
Cooper swerved around some geese waddling across the road, then continued around the curve. “Five years after Holiday Harbor. A few families liked the spot and decided to make a home there. Same history as ours, for the most part.”
“Which is why you’re so worried.”
He heard genuine sympathy in her tone. When he glanced over, he found her wearing the same troubled expression she’d had last night, staring at the decommissioned town dock. There were more layers to their guest than he’d expected, and he had to admit she was starting to grow on him.
Bad, he cautioned himself. Very, very bad. Losing Felicia had cost him a big chunk of his heart, and he still hadn’t fully recovered. He wasn’t ready for anything beyond casual acquaintances with women. Especially not one who’d made it clear she was bolting as soon as she typed “The End.”
Attraction was one thing, he reasoned, and there was nothing he could do about that. But acting on it was completely within his control, and he had no intention of setting himself up for a heartbreaking fall like the one he’d taken with Felicia. His legal colleagues in New York hadn’t dubbed him the Ice Man for nothing. He was well aware he’d been repeating the same basic warning to himself since Bree had stepped off the bus. This time he meant it.
With that decision firmly made, he dragged his attention back to the road and Bree’s running commentary.
“...and there’s Reggie, lying next to me, staring at me like a dog waiting for me to take him on his morning walk. Mavis conveniently forgot to tell me he likes the bed in my room. For the life of me I still can’t figure out how he climbed all those stairs up to the tower and opened the door.”
Cooper laughed at the vivid picture she’d created in his mind. “He’s pretty clever, and spoiled besides. Mavis and Henry never had children, but she loves animals. I think that’s why they like her so much.”
“So do you.” Bree pulled her whirling hair over her shoulder and started braiding it to keep it in place. “And in spite of the fact that she talks to you as if you’re ten, she seems to like you, too.”
“There’s a story there, if you’re interested.”
He could almost feel her ears perk up as she swiveled inside the seat belt to face him. “Always. I love a good story.”
“It’s the Irish in you. You’re probably descended from a long line of Celtic bards.”
She laughed, a bright, heartwarming sound he wouldn’t mind hearing more often. “What does a Yale attorney know about Celtic bards?”
“You’d be surprised.”
“No doubt. But I’m actually descended from a long line of Irish stowaways. One of my mom’s ancestors even became captain of his own ship. The hard way.”
“A pirate?” When she nodded, he let out a low whistle. “Guess I’ll have to watch my step or you’ll make me walk the plank.”
She answered with a fairly convincing pirate’s growl. “Got that right. Now, what about your Mavis story?”
“She never paid much attention to me when I was a kid. Then one afternoon when I was about twelve or so, I was on the bay with my old sailboat, trying to figure out how to work the sails with the wind. She was in their yard and came to stand on the point and yell at me for being so clumsy. I was frustrated, so I yelled something back, and she stood there scowling at me.”
“I can just imagine what you said,” Bree commented with a grin.
“It wasn’t very nice. Anyway, I guess she took pity on me, ’cause she talked me through tacking into the wind and helped me get back to shore. I really appreciated her help, so the next day I got up the guts to take her a bouquet of flowers.” Pausing, he chuckled at the memory. “She was so grateful, you’d have thought I brought her the crown jewels. She, Henry and I ended up talking most of the afternoon and ever since then, she’s been one of my favorite people.”
“She must get lonely out there, all by herself.”
The softness in Bree’s voice told him she understood being alone, feeling as if no one cared about you. Cooper’s inborn protectiveness started rustling just below the surface, and in self-defense, he firmly pushed it back down. “Like she said yesterday, she’s not much for people. But someone goes out there every day for one reason or another, making sure everything’s okay. I live just across the harbor, so a lot of times it’s me.”
“You guys check on her without letting her know you’re checking on her,” Bree commented with a smile. “That’s so sweet.”
“That’s what folks do.”
“Not the ones I know.”
“Then you’ve been hanging out with the wrong kind of people.” When she laughed again, he glanced over at her. “What’s so funny?”
“You sound like my dad. ‘Surround yourself with good people, Bree. They’ll make or break you.’”
“Sounds like my kinda guy.”
“Except for my mom, he’s everyone’s kinda guy,” she said proudly. “I wish I was more like him.”
“I don’t know,” Cooper replied as they passed the faded sign welcoming them to Sandy Cove. “From what I saw last night, our entire fishing fleet is half in love with you already. Those guys are notoriously suspicious, so that has to be some kind of record.”
“Yeah, men seem to warm up to me quicker than women do.”
He grinned over at her. “I don’t doubt that for a second.”
Making a sour face, she pulled out her camera. “Could you stop for a minute so I can get some pics?”
“Sure.”
He pulled over to the side and shifted into Park. While she lined up her shots, he was struck by the contradictions in her personality. When she was working, she came off as confident, almost cocky. But when it came to anything remotely personal, she had the demeanor of a teenage girl trying to figure out how to make people like her. While he admired her professionalism, that sliver of vulnerability gave her a softer, more feminine appeal.
When she sat down and smiled over at him, his stomach did a disconcerting flip. Impossible as it had seemed at their first meeting, he liked her. And that could only lead to trouble.
Then again it wasn’t her fault he was still gun-shy when it came to women, so he smiled back. “All set?”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
“No problem.” Pulling back onto the deserted road, he asked, “Do you prefer writing or photography?”
“I enjoy both.” Tossing her braid over her shoulder, she thumbed through the shots on her screen. “Working for Kaleidoscope is the first time I’ve gotten to do my own stills, and it’s really fun. The photos are like extra notes for later and since I’m the only one here, Nick will be using a couple for the article.”
“So you get all the credit,” Cooper filled in the obvious blank. “And a little extra cash, besides.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
There was the flinty no-nonsense side of her again. His rosy image of her warming up to him—and his town—evaporated like the morning mist offshore. He should have been relie
ved, but for some reason he was disappointed. Trying to shake it off, he shrugged. “Nothing. It’s natural to want to get paid as much as you can.”
“That sounds a lot like disapproval. Coming from a lawyer, being scolded for trying to make money really hurts.”
She seemed intent on skewing his meaning, so he gave up attempting to explain. “Then I was out of line. Forget I said anything.”
“I’m not here on vacation,” she reminded him curtly as she stared out to sea. “This is my job.”
And he’d do well to remember that, Cooper cautioned himself. Bree didn’t belong here any more than Felicia had, and when her assignment was over, she’d be leaving. Until then his role was to play tour guide. He’d show her enough of Holiday Harbor that she’d have solid research to write a killer article convincing people to trek up the coast and visit.
Last night’s cozy dinner had clearly been a fluke. As he rounded the last curve coming into Sandy Cove, he decided it was better that way.
“This is it,” he announced. “Sandy Cove.”
He’d braced himself, but his heart still fell at the sight of the deserted town. He drove slowly along the broken pavement, which had heaved up in large sections with the winter freeze. The houses where people had held out the longest looked fine, but other buildings hadn’t fared so well in the punishing Atlantic weather. Broken glass littered what was left of the sidewalks, and shutters lay around haphazardly, as if they’d been thrown there and left to rot.
For Cooper the worst thing of all was the silence.
With no fishing boats tossing aside their scraps, even the gulls didn’t come here anymore. Having grown up with their cries ringing in his ears, Cooper missed the sound. It made the place feel even more desolate than it looked.
Bree stepped down from her seat and looked around. “This is kind of creepy, isn’t it? Like someone might still be here and they’re watching you, waiting for you to leave.”
Cooper chuckled. “Are you sure you don’t write fiction on the side? You have a really good imagination.”
The glare she leveled at him could have frozen the bay over in no time. “I’m a reporter. Just the facts, man.”
He wondered why she was so insistent on that, then figured it was none of his business. He smiled to soothe that flash-fire temper of hers. “Got it.”
“Now be quiet and let me poke around a little.”
Leaning back against the front fender, he motioned for her to explore to her heart’s content. “Just make sure you watch your step. Some of these buildings aren’t safe.”
Eyeing the decaying village with a sad expression, she asked, “What happened?”
“The fishing got bad, and then they closed the processing plant and cannery outside of town. With less jobs to be had, folks couldn’t make a living here anymore, so they left.”
She turned those dark, intelligent eyes on him. “You’re afraid closing the dock in Holiday Harbor is the beginning of the end.”
Determined to keep the town’s spirits up, Cooper hadn’t confided that fear to anyone outside his family. But since she’d gone there on her own, he said, “Yes, I am. I want you to help me keep this—” he nodded toward the empty street “—from happening to my home.”
Understanding softened her expression, and she gave him a slight smile. “I’ll do my best.”
“I know.”
As she strolled away from him, Cooper was surprised to discover that his vote of confidence was more than a pep talk for her benefit. Even though she hadn’t set foot in Holiday Harbor until yesterday, he honestly believed she’d use her considerable talents to paint a vivid picture of his quaint but quirky hometown.
And really, he reminded himself while he thumbed through the messages on his phone, that was all he needed from her.
* * *
Wandering through the uninhabited town, Bree couldn’t help imagining what it must have been like before. With people strolling along the sidewalks, and cars parked in the diagonally painted slots that made the most of the limited space. Snapping frame after frame with her camera, she began to understand why Cooper was so worried about Holiday Harbor.
Sandy Cove looked just like it.
Well, it had once, she amended with a frown. Now it stood as a solemn warning to other villages nearby not to rest on their laurels, but watch for signs of decay. Once it started, it was hard to stop.
Sweeping her viewfinder along the shoreline, she was amazed to see a figure sitting on one of the cockeyed docks. She pulled her head back and squinted into the sun, but she couldn’t make out any details.
“What’s that?” she asked. When Cooper looked her way, she pointed. “Someone’s down there.”
“Stay here and I’ll check it out.” He moved toward the concrete steps leading to the wharf, and she went to join him. Stopping dead, he glared at her. “I mean it, Bree. Stay here.”
“Oh, come on,” she wheedled, glancing down again. “He’s not even moving. How dangerous can he be?”
“I’ll go find out. In the meantime, wait up here.”
His stern tone warned her not to argue any more, and she decided to let him have this one. She was the outsider, after all, and he knew the people around here better than she did. “Fine. But if he moves even an inch, I’m coming down there with a tire iron.”
“It’s good to know you’ve got my back.”
Grinning reassurance, Cooper continued down the steps. Bree kept a close eye on the mysterious figure, then remembered she had a decent zoom lens on her camera. She lifted it and focused in, astounded by what she saw. “Uh, Cooper, I think that’s a bear.”
“Nah.” He waved off her concern. “Looks like a Newfie.”
“A what?”
Turning, he explained, “Newfoundland. They’re big water dogs, with webbed feet. Great swimmers, so lots of crews have one on board to help out if someone goes into the water. He’s probably just lost and looking for a way home. Do me a favor and get the little bag that’s hanging behind the driver’s seat. I’ve got some dog treats in there.”
“You carry them around with you?”
“My mother’s dog, Mitzy, won’t let me near the house unless I bribe her first.”
“Doberman?”
“Pomeranian,” he corrected with a laugh. “She’s cute but mean as a snake.”
Unlike other lawyers she’d known, this guy slipped into the easygoing speech of regular people pretty easily. It made her wonder about the sketchy background he’d given her and how he’d come to be the way he was. Which had nothing to do with her article, of course, but it was still intriguing.
After she handed him the bag, he carefully descended the crumbling steps.
“Hey there, boy,” he called out softly as he approached. “What’s up?”
The dog cast a pitiful look over his shaggy shoulder, then resumed staring out at the water. Bree got the distinct impression he was waiting for someone.
Someone who wasn’t coming back.
Rare tears stung her eyes, and she blinked them away as she carefully picked her way down the embankment. It was so sweet—and so sad—to see a loyal pet sitting there, gazing wistfully out to sea for a boat that wouldn’t return for him. He was probably used to being out on the water with his owner, begging for scraps from the crews’ lunches, enjoying his existence as their mascot.
Now he was alone, wishing his life could be the way it was back then. Sadly, Bree knew exactly how he felt.
As she got closer, she heard Cooper’s low voice, speaking in a comforting tone.
“I know, boy,” he commiserated, ruffling a hand through the Newfie’s matted fur. “You miss ’em, don’t you?”
The whimper he got in reply was startling coming from such a huge animal. His brow furrowed with canine worry, he thumped his tai
l on the dock and looked from Cooper to the empty bay with a hopeful expression.
The dog was filthy, but Cooper hugged him anyway. “They’re not coming back, buddy. I’m sorry.”
A lump of emotion blocked Bree’s throat, and she swallowed hard to keep her emotions in check. This was by no means the most tragic thing she’d ever seen, but the utter loneliness of it made her heart twist with sympathy she seldom allowed herself to feel. Objectivity was the best tool a journalist had, her father always told her. It enabled them to clearly depict an event without allowing irrational feelings to cloud their account.
But right now every nerve in Bree’s body felt like it was on alert, achingly aware that this forgotten pet was just the tip of the iceberg of what was happening to the traditional fishing villages in northern Maine.
“He’s got a collar.” Cooper’s voice pulled her back from the edge, and she saw him dig it out for a better look. “A nice one, too. Leather, with a brass tag that says Sammy.” Ruffling the dog’s fur, he added a sad smile. “Someone really loved you, didn’t they, Sammy?”
The Newfie thumped his tail, then added a quick slurp on the cheek for his new friend Cooper.
“He loved them, too,” she observed angrily. “How could they just leave him behind?”
“The last family moved out a long time ago,” Cooper soothed her while he fished out a treat for the dog. “My guess is they gave him to someone nearby and he ran away.”
“And came back here to wait for his owner.”
Cooper sighed. “Yeah. Pretty sad, huh?”
“Heartbreaking,” she agreed with real feeling. “What’re you gonna do with him?”
“Try to find out who he’s living with now.”
“And if you can’t?”
Grinning, he shrugged. “I’ve always wanted a dog.”
Sammy perked up at that comment, and as he barked his approval, Bree couldn’t help laughing. “Sounds like you’ve got a new roomie.”
“We’ll see,” Cooper hedged, but she could see he was already warming up to the idea of adopting the huge dog.
