by Mia Ross
Choosing her words carefully, she asked, “Are you mad because you hate the idea or because your grandfather kept it a secret?”
Cooper opened his mouth immediately, then closed it just as quickly. Giving her something between a grimace and a grin, through clenched teeth, he ground out, “Both.”
“I don’t get it. Why would he do that?”
“His family’s been here forever, and he loved this place just the way it was. It might not be perfect, but it’s our home. He wouldn’t want anyone to change it, no matter how good their ideas look on paper.”
The truth of it was, his beloved grandfather had played judge and jury on this one, and now Cooper was left holding the bag. Bree suspected he felt the same way, whether he’d admit it or not. She examined the oversize pages more carefully. “Where’s Schooner Point?”
“Out on the bluff, not far from the Captains’ Chapel. It overlooks the harbor on one side and the ocean on the other.” He pointed to the plans. “The length of the eighteenth hole they want to build overlooks the water, like at Pebble Beach in California.”
Her first thought was that this developer really knew his stuff. No doubt he was aware of the perilous financial situation in Holiday Harbor, and that land values were way down from their peaks years ago. All he had to do was offer 10 percent more than their most recent assessments, and he’d have all the land he needed for his luxury community. The vacant land would come even cheaper.
The wheels in Bree’s head were spinning full-tilt, and she could barely contain her excitement. This was the kind of story she lived for, the kind she needed now more than ever. She could imagine the headline in a large-impact font, right above her byline.
Winners and Losers: Small-Town America Versus Corporate America.
While the potential development angle was a great concept for another series of articles, she recognized the trouble it would probably cause Holiday Harbor and its reluctant mayor. Cooper had made his position clear, but she couldn’t help wondering how the other residents in town were planning to vote.
Then again, overextending her professional boundaries was what had gotten her sentenced to journalistic Siberia in the first place. She’d just started to get back on her feet careerwise, and she couldn’t afford any more missteps. Maybe the key to continuing that success was to conceal her own views until she had the whole story. It was worth a shot, anyway.
“I’m sure your grandfather thought he was doing what was best,” she amended, “but I’m glad you’re giving everyone a chance to weigh in on this project. It could save Holiday Harbor.”
“Or destroy it.”
“Change isn’t always bad, Cooper,” she reasoned. “More people in town means more money spent in the stores, more kids in the schools, more taxes for maintaining roads and bringing in better technology. Can you imagine how much the property taxes would be for homes like these?”
“A private golf community, with everything they need inside the gates they’ll use to keep out the riffraff,” he predicted darkly. “As one of the folks they’ll be locking out, I object.”
“You’re not riffraff,” she chided, waving away the idea. “Besides, I thought you liked golfing.”
“It’s not the course I object to,” he explained. “It’s the houses. I’ve known more than my share of people who think they’re better than everyone else. I came home to get away from all that.”
He had a point, but it was Bree’s job to remain objective and start compiling facts, not give in to emotion. “How many houses are up there now?”
Checking the schematic, he shrugged. “Ten or twelve, I guess.”
“And the rest is undeveloped land?”
His hesitation was answer enough, but she waited for him to respond. “Just because it’s not being used doesn’t mean it doesn’t have value. It’s wild and beautiful up there, just the way God made it. It should stay that way.”
The conviction in his tone wobbled as he glanced back at the plans. Cooper might not have concrete figures, but he must have some concept of how much money was poised to flood into his struggling hometown.
Because she was on her way back to Richmond, Bree had no business getting involved in this issue. When her life had come crashing down around her, she’d vowed to never again stick her nose in where it didn’t belong. But for some reason, now she felt compelled to do exactly that. “You’re voting on this at the town meeting later this month, right?”
His eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he nodded. “Why?”
“Oh, you know me,” she said with a smile. “Just curious.”
Chapter Nine
The offhand remark struck him oddly, and Cooper eyed her with suspicion. “Right.”
“You’re a smart guy, and I know you’ll figure it out. No matter how bad things might look now, Holiday Harbor won’t fade away like Sandy Cove did.”
That trip had really affected her, and he was pleased to see she hadn’t forgotten it. Then again, how could she when Sammy was a furry memento of what they’d experienced there? That reminded him of something he’d been meaning to ask her. “The story you did about Sammy. Can I still read it online?”
“Sure. It’s had so many hits, Nick’s going to leave it up all week as a freebie. After that, you’ll have to pay for it, though,” she added with a wink.
“Great. Meantime, I have a couple things to do before the bus comes in. Do you mind waiting for me?”
“Oh, you don’t have to go with me. It’s just down the street.”
“I met you when you came in, I’ll walk you out. Besides,” he added with a grin, “if I don’t go, how will I get my goodbye kiss?”
“Who said anything about a kiss?” she shot back, but the mischievous twinkle in her eyes gave her away.
As she slid her ear buds in and picked up her tablet, he couldn’t help laughing. One thing her future boyfriend could be sure of, he thought as he rolled up the offensive plans and stowed them in the box. Their life together would never be boring.
When Cooper was finished, he realized she’d been in his office for nearly two hours that morning, but she was so quiet, he’d barely noticed her. While he’d made some phone calls and tapped away on his keyboard, the virtual keys on her tablet made no noise at all.
Was that how she lived all the time? he wondered. Shrinking into a corner so she was all but invisible, observing what went on around her but not participating in it? She had a masterful touch with people, but she seemed to be able to turn it on and off at will. It made him more curious than ever about what actually went on in that sharp mind of hers.
Unfortunately he wasn’t likely to learn any more about her than he already had. Despite her apparent fondness for his town, once she left he’d probably never see her again.
When he slid his chair out, Sammy cracked one eye open to look up as Cooper stood and stretched his back. “Ready to go?”
Sammy jumped to his feet, but Bree didn’t react, so Cooper strolled over and lightly tapped her shoulder. She bolted from the couch as if he’d shot her, the cord from her ear buds dangling between them.
“Don’t do that!” she scolded, pulling them loose. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”
Cooper had never met someone who concentrated so intently, almost as if she was lost in another world. Holding up his hands to calm her, he said, “I didn’t mean to scare you, but it’s quarter to eleven. We should get you down to the bus stop.”
“You’re kidding.” She blinked at him, then glanced out the window. “You’re not kidding. Wow, where’d the morning get to?”
He took her beat-up messenger bag from the chair where she’d dropped it and handed it to her. “You’ve been working like crazy. Sammy and I went out for a walk, but you never moved. I’d be a pretzel if I sat like that for so long.”
She
spun from side to side, and her back cracked with the movement. “I’m pretty close to it myself.”
Mrs. Andrews nodded to them on their way out, and Cooper managed to convince Bree to let him carry everything but her messenger bag. As they walked toward the waiting bus, he noticed the shops were fairly busy, and The Albatross was full up, with diners waiting on the benches out front. The cries of gulls and terns overhead mingled with the sounds of people talking, punctuated by frequent laughter. It was an enjoyable, relaxed scene, and he was proud of what he saw. If only the other side of the street was as busy, he’d be a happy man.
Somehow, he vowed silently, they’d figure out a way to make it happen. And then he could tell the next developer who came sniffing around to build his fancy golf course community somewhere else.
“How long has Julia Stanton been here?” Bree asked, pulling his attention back to reality.
“She came to town this spring on vacation and decided to move here. I handled the closing on the property for her.”
“She bought the whole building? Isn’t that kind of unusual?”
Cooper couldn’t understand why she was so curious, but then this was Bree. In the short time he’d known her, he’d come to accept that she was interested in everything that went on around her. “Not really. There’s a nice apartment upstairs, and the store below. It’s a good setup, especially in the winter.”
“I can’t argue with that.”
For some reason her doubtful tone irked him. Up to this point, her visit had been a roller coaster of highs and lows, and he didn’t want to end it with an argument. So he kept quiet, and they walked the rest of the way in silence. He wasn’t sure if he was going to miss her or couldn’t wait for her to leave. Like an unpredictable storm, she’d blown into his nice quiet life and turned it into something he barely recognized.
In only five days. He hated to consider the damage she could have done if she’d stayed any longer.
Just as they reached the curb where the bus was parked, Bree’s phone rang. Checking the caller ID, she gave Cooper a sly smile and hit the answer button. “Nick, thanks for getting back to me. Cooper’s here, so I put you on speaker.”
“Where are you?”
“The bus stop.”
“I got your email. I want you to stay and cover the development vote, use some more of your Sandy Cove research to show the readers what’s at stake for Holiday Harbor. Got it?”
“Got it.”
She clicked the phone off, and Cooper’s temper spiked almost immediately. Taking a deep breath, he cautioned himself that the sidewalks were full of people who had no business hearing what he was about to say. “You told him?”
He was certain she’d relayed the gist of the Ellington Properties proposal to Nick, and it didn’t thrill him to know their private conversation had left his office. For her part, she shrugged as if it didn’t matter in the least. “It’s a big story. I emailed him what I knew, figuring he could decide if he wanted me to cover it or not.”
“I don’t want it covered,” Cooper protested in a hushed voice, although he had a feeling it was pointless. Since Nick had gotten back to her this quickly, the editor’s strategy was obvious. Excitement equaled readers. Apparently that was all these two cared about.
“It’s not your call this time. It’s mine.” For emphasis she tapped the phone against her faded Yankees T-shirt. “And I’m gonna get to work.”
With that she took out her steno pad and calmly strolled in the other direction. Cooper had the sinking feeling that the development vote wasn’t the only challenge headed his way.
The other was somehow coping with the fact that this sassy, irresistible woman was no longer on her way back to Virginia.
* * *
“You’ve got a nice hand with the wheel, little lady,” Jack told Bree while she carefully guided his fishing boat toward the wharf. “Wish my own kids had half your feel for it.”
She’d been out on the water with Jack and his crew all day, and the praise settled pleasantly into her tired brain. During her shift she’d learned his last name was Walters, and way more than she needed to know about how and where to pull in nets full of Atlantic mackerel.
Jack had generously invited Sammy along, and the Newfie was having a blast, racing up and down the decks with Jack’s terrier, Horatio. Their size difference didn’t seem to matter to them, and they became quick friends. When their hectic day was over, they’d probably drop from exhaustion when they got home.
The cook hollered, “Snack time for mutts!” and the two dogs trotted past her on their way to the galley. Her camera was out of reach, so she committed the chummy picture to memory. “Thanks for the compliment. I’m not sure I could do this every day like you guys, but I learned a lot.”
“Ah, there’s the rub. It’s more than a job, for sure, driven by what’s in here.” Resting a battered hand on his wide chest, he grinned and lifted a finger to his temple. “Not in here. If I had any sense at all, I’d have given it up when I was in high school.”
“Why didn’t you?” she asked, nudging the wheel to stay in line with the buoys that marked the lane in from the ocean. On first glance they looked like they were just bobbing in place, with no rhyme or reason. Now that she’d attended Jack’s Piloting 101, she could see they formed a broken line in the water.
“What? And work eight to five locked up in a factory somewhere? Lining some fat cat’s pockets while I watched the clock and worried about how my retirement fund was doing? Don’t think so.”
Bree hadn’t gotten a firm handle on his age before, and she wasn’t any closer to it now. Even hushed questions about it to his crew had left her nowhere. Sensing an opening, she took another shot. “But you have to retire sometime, right? I mean, you can’t work forever.”
“Says you,” he retorted with a roguish grin. “When the Good Lord calls me home, they’ll be hauling me off the Brenda in a pine box.”
“Your wife, Brenda, might be glad to have you home more, though.”
“Nah. I’d just be underfoot. Trust me on this one, a marriage works best when a husband and wife have their own space. Keeps the fighting to a minimum.”
Getting relationship advice from this burly fisherman struck her as funny, and she laughed. “If I ever find myself in that situation, I’ll remember that.”
“Oh, you won’t be single forever,” he predicted. “Smart, pretty thing like you? Not a chance.”
If he wasn’t married, and a full eighteen inches taller than her, she’d have hugged the old coot. Instead she settled for a warm smile. “You probably say that to all the girls.”
“Only if it’s true,” he assured her with a wink. Suddenly his gray eyes took on a steely glare, and he bellowed, “Grover!”
His sunburned first mate peered in through the starboard window. “Yeah, boss?”
“My eyes ain’t what they used to be.” He nodded toward the wharf. “Look up there and tell me what you see.”
Grover complied, and his scowl was just as threatening as Jack’s glare. “There’s a fancy yellow-and-white yacht tied up in your slip, boss.”
“With a sign marked for the Brenda, plain as day.” The captain growled like an unhappy bear. “I’ve had enough of these playtime fishermen interfering with my business. Hand that wheel over, missy, and no matter what happens, stay put. This could get nasty.”
While she knew he’d never harm her, she didn’t waste any time getting out of his way. Scrambling onto the aft deck, she sent an urgent text to Cooper.
SOS—trouble at docks.
He knew she was out with Jack, and she hoped Cooper would be able to defuse the situation before things got out of hand. When Sammy appeared at her side near the rail, she absently patted his head while her mind sifted through possible scenarios. She couldn’t just stand aside and let these guys
pound on each other. If all else failed, she finally decided, she’d scream and pretend to faint. Not the most dignified plan, but it should get everyone’s attention.
Jack seemed to be coming in at the completely wrong angle, parallel to the docks. She was flabbergasted when he brought the trawler to a stop a few yards from the offending yacht.
Calling for a couple spare hands, he ordered two of his men to toss in their mooring ropes and pull in as close to the pier as they could. When they were tied off, he clambered onto the rail, then up the emergency ladder that led up from the water. Then, as if he did it every day, he calmly strode up the dock. It was like something straight out of an old swashbuckling movie, and Bree had a hard time believing the old sailor had managed it.
One by one his crew followed suit, until there was a line of grimy men moving toward the offending boat. Bree’s instinct was to trail after them, but she knew if he saw her up there, Jack wouldn’t be happy. Right now seemed like a bad time to test his patience.
Arms crossed, Jack stood with his legs apart wide and yelled, “Ahoy, Daisy Mae!”
As if on cue, everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to watch the unfolding scene. It was so quiet, Bree could hear the bell on a marker far out to sea.
A slender man on deck turned in surprise, frowning when he saw Jack, his men standing in a half-circle formation behind him. “Can I help you?”
“You’re in my space, son.”
“It’s the only empty one.”
“There’s a few right over there.” Jack nodded toward the other side of the wharf. “We save ’em for our guests.”
“I’m meeting friends for dinner, and I’m already late,” the moron snapped as he walked onto the gangway. “I don’t have time to move it now.”
“No need to trouble yourself. Grover here can move her for you.”
Grover hurried forward, saluting Jack as he jogged past. The smug visitor dangled his key chain. “I don’t think so.”
