Her Maine Man

by Owner

  “How’d the Jag handle on the trip? World class, I’ll bet.” Craig apparently wanted to make small talk to keep his mind off Sarah.

  “The Jag ran like a dream but looks like a nightmare. It’s been hit with a softball, a lobster trap, and ash.”

  “Ash? Now I’m worried. Stay out of crematoriums.”

  “The kitchen of the bed-and-breakfast where I was staying got fried this morning. Mostly smoke damage, but I have nowhere to sleep tonight except in my car.” By the silence on the other end, he figured he’d said too much. “Just worry about my sister, Craig. I’m fine.”

  “Oh.” He heard him snap his fingers. “I found something odd in the file on Charles Chambers. Aside from the minor notoriety of being charged with the Bain Island theft, he’s an unknown. No one we know in the biz has ever heard of him or CC Consulting. Makes me wonder how or where the Bain Island board came up with his name in the first place.”

  Jon’s ears perked up. Bain Island was full of curiosities. Maddie being only one of them with all her restrictions. “We’ll target that for a focus discussion when I get back. In the meantime, hold Sarah’s hand tight for me.”

  “You got it.”

  After hanging up, he checked the life preserver on the wall for the time. He had the whole day ahead of him. He decided to take a drive and stop for something to eat at Cubby’s, for old times sake. Skip over the threatening part about Lyndsey and her lobster-baiting friends and reminisce about Maddie and last night.

  Taking the scenic shore route, he passed the birthday cake house on his way. No people or dogs were about so he slowed down near the tree in the yard where he’d had fantasy sex with Maddie. She’d been extraordinary. Hot, adventurous.

  His heart pounded thinking about her, when his dick should’ve been the excited organ. He had it bad. He loved her and had no idea what to do about it. When he got back home, away from the island and Maddie, he’d clear his head and form a strategic plan.

  The Jag idled with a comforting hum. The tree looked green and welcoming enough to have one planted on his front lawn back home. He chuckled. A dogwood in honor of Spot.

  He pulled away before he was discovered. At Cubby’s, the bruiser from last night was nowhere in sight. “That was Waldo,” Cubby pointed out. “He was living onshore but moved home to take care of his mother. Offered his bouncer services free-of-charge to protect poor Myrtle from herself. Last month, she gave herself a case of hemorrhoids trying to out-sit her daughter and granddaughter at the bar. Today,” he said, pointing to the empty tables, “you don’t need any safeguarding.”

  “Bad time of the day, huh? I’m torn between a late breakfast or an early lunch myself.” He glanced at the menu on the chalkboard, next to the cutout of a fisherman in a yellow slicker. “Give me a bowl of cereal and the lobster roll special.”

  He figured the special for an egg roll stuffed with lobster meat, but it turned out to be a toasted hotdog roll filled with lobster, mayo, lettuce, and tomato. It tasted delicious with his Cheerios.

  After eating, he called Craig again from Cubby’s public phone. No answer. “They must be in surgery. I’m soon to become an uncle,” he told the owner upon leaving.

  Next, he drove over to the library to kill the rest of the day until his meeting. Vampira, the ticket office clerk, was exiting, her bone-white arms loaded down with books. He held the door open for her and said, “Hi.”

  She looked right through him. He didn’t get a glimpse of her titles, but he guessed the topics for paranormal.

  Jon had every intention of spending the day researching Charles Chambers and his consulting company, but the library didn’t have a computer. He ended up reading a thick volume on the life of the lobster fishermen in Maine.

  Looked like he was up against some tough fellas if Maddie’s friend, Lyndsey, decided to have him fed to the fish. On the side of precaution, he resolved to lock his car doors and set the car alarm before he dozed off in the backseat tonight. By tomorrow morning, his feet would be safely in dry dock.

  Eventually, the librarian coughed, loud. When he peeked up over the spine of the book, she tapped her wristwatch. “It’s closing time.”

  By five-o-five, he was tooling down the roadway, heading for the Town Offices. He stopped on the way at the gift store to phone his brother-in-law again.

  “You’re an uncle. I’m a dad.” Craig sounded spacey, as if he should be in recovery with Sarah.

  “Sex?” Jon asked.

  “Not for six weeks.”

  “I mean the baby. Is it a niece or a nephew?” Craig was way out there all right.

  “Sorry. I haven’t slept in days and I passed out while witnessing the birth,” his voice trailed off on that part and then picked up. “I have a daughter. We’re naming her Gracie, but she looks like Sarah.”

  “Too bad, huh?” he teased, then went on in earnest. “I’m setting up a trust fund for Gracie as soon as I get home. Does she need anything before I get there? A nurse? A diaper service? Stock in the company?”

  “Calm down.” Craig chuckled. “All she needs is a christening and you as her godfather.”

  Jon choked on that for a second. “I’m honored.” He smiled, wide. “Give Gracie and Sarah my love.”

  “Will do. See you tomorrow.”

  He was still smiling when he pulled up at the Town Offices twenty minutes early. There wasn’t another car near the premises nor on the road. Parking in the shade, he climbed out of the Jag, figuring he’d be crammed in there all night sleeping. He leaned against the door, crossed his ankles and arms, and waited for the board members to arrive.

  Not five minutes into the wait, a Wagoneer rolled up. Rakes, shovels, and a hoe, were hanging out of the open window of the tailgate.

  “Name’s Fitch.” The man shook Jon’s hand with his gnarled, callused one. “Fred Fitch.”

  “I see you like to garden.” Jon nodded toward the vehicle and the tools.

  “I’m the gardener out at the Bain place.” Fred smiled, obviously liking his job.

  “Never got into the dirt myself, but I like trees.” Preferably ones with Maddie underneath, naked and spread out on a plaid blanket like a picnic lunch.

  The gardener quirked a brow. “Yep, trees are likable enough.”

  A loud crack shot through the quiet evening, giving them both a start.

  “Old man Denky’s backfire.”

  When old man Denky pulled up, he didn’t appear much older than Fred. Both were gray and wrinkled. He parked his four-door sedan, which looked gray and wrinkled too, alongside the Wagoneer. Fred made introductions.

  “Ha,” old man Denky shouted. “Last consultant pulled a shady one.” He squinted one gray, wrinkled eye at Jon, like an ornery pirate about to make him walk the plank. “You looking to get something for nothing?”

  “No, sir. I assure you my firm is reputable.”

  “We’ll see,” old man Denky blasted. Jon figured the man more for hard of hearing than hard-assed.

  Next, Rodger rounded the bend and Jon’s eyes bugged. He drove a vintage Porsche that he parked and covered neatly with Jon’s car protector.

  “Nice car.” He didn’t realize the inn’s business was so lucrative. Especially with only four bedrooms to let.

  “Best present I ever received.” Rodger winked. Jon wasn’t sure if he meant the car or the cover.

  “Heard you had a fire,” old man Denky yelled.

  “Mostly smoke and soot damage. The kitchen needs redoing.” The inn owner didn’t seem too upset.

  “Who’s going to do the work?” Fred asked.

  “Contracted the guy who did Cubby’s.”

  “He works reasonable,” old man Denky shouted. “But slow. Don’t pay him by the hour.”

  “Did Cubby have a fire, too?” Jon asked.

  “What do you think we are, firebugs?”

  “No, sir.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned against the Jag for familiar comfort.

  “Cubby had a leaky roof
.” Fred pulled out a silver pocket watch and consulted it. “It’s almost six.”

  “Can’t get into the building until the mayor gets here,” Rodger told Jon. “He’s the only one of us with an office and a key.”

  “I don’t mind waiting out here. It’s a beauty of a day.” And his last one on the island, gratefully.

  “A bit warm.” Fred crinkled his eyes toward the cloudless sky and the sun.

  “Here comes the First Selectman now.” Old man Denky raised his voice even louder to make the announcement. “It’s easier to just call him mayor.” He grinned at Jon.

  They all watched the mayor park his Land Rover. He strolled over, tall, assured, cool. “Gentlemen.”

  Straightening up and stepping away from the Jag, Jon took his hands out of his pockets. But the mayor made no move to offer a handshake so he didn’t either.

  “Cut it pretty close.” Fred dangled his watch from the chain before stashing it back in his pocket. “One of these days we’re going to win fifty dollars each.”

  The mayor shook his head. “Not even in mud season.”

  “Mayor’s never late,” Rodger said to Jon. “Neither is Elmer Talbrook. He should be pulling up any minute.”

  Old man Denky simulated a golf putt and eyed the mayor. “Hope you haven’t been practicing since Tuesday’s game. I made five bucks on your putt.”

  “Mayor didn’t miss the hole by much.” Fred chuckled.

  The mayor grinned. “Worried Denky?”

  “Naw.”

  Sounded as if these guys bet on everything.

  “If it’s too hot out here for anyone, we can clock Elmer’s arrival from inside.” The mayor singled Jon out with a crook of his eyebrow, gesturing to the wooden sign and the finger pointing upstairs.

  “No,” Rodger and Fred added in unison.

  “Naw.”

  Jon didn’t offer a vote and loosened the collar of his shirt against the late day heat. He didn’t care how hot it got or where they waited as long as the meeting took place tonight.

  With a nod, the mayor agreed with the other Selectmen. “We’ll watch from here.”

  Fred shielded his eyes and peered down the road. The other men mimicked the gesture.

  Only the sound of a plane overhead broke the silence. Jon squinted against the sun, puzzled why everyone was so interested in watching Elmer drive up.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Don’t forget to go through your range of motion exercises at home. Eight of each.” As soon as Maddie locked the clinic door after Tim Gregory’s teenage brother, she pulled down the shade. Yanking off her white jacket, she bolted for the washroom.

  Of all days for Lyndsey to go home early. But right after the third call from Mrs. Muttley a migraine had taken hold. If Maddie wanted to make the meeting on time, she had five minutes to change her clothes and ten to make the drive.

  After tossing on the navy-blue business suit with the matching high-heeled pumps she’d brought with her, she unbraided and brushed her hair while trotting around the small rest room testing her balance in the two-inch high heels. By round three, she stopped wobbling.

  Intending to twist her hair up, she ran out of time and hopped behind the wheel of the Jeep instead. In no time, she was gunning down the road toward the Town Offices while applying lipgloss and mascara. She blinked her lashes in the rearview mirror. Not bad for a woman on the move.

  Her toes ached in the high heels, despite breaking in the leather by wearing the shoes with her bulky sweat socks during her lunch hour. “Wicked good look,” Lyndsey had teased.

  None of the board cared a clam what she wore. They were probably gathered and betting on her tardiness this very minute. Barb would balk. “Bains are never late.”

  As she approached the stop sign, her heel caught in the worn-out, rubber floor mat. Tugging it loose, she hit the brake and the Jeep came to a screeching halt, jerking her forward. There wasn’t another car in sight from blue horizon to blue horizon, but Bains always obeyed the laws of the island.

  After pulling away, she spied a neon speck in her rearview mirror. In no time it got larger and closer. According to the clock on her dashboard, Elmer Talbrook had three minutes to make the meeting or loose fifty bucks to each of the other members. Swerving onto the shoulder of the road, she got out of the way of his motorcycle.

  With a rumbling roar, Elmer buzzed past her in a bright green blur. Quickly, she veered back onto the macadam and followed close on his tail. If Elmer got there on time, then so would she.

  The Town Offices were coming up on the right, fast, but before turning off, Elmer popped a wheelie. The front tire of his Harley lifted off the ground while the back one burned a trail of smoky rubber on the macadam. An acrid smell filled the air.

  The men in front of the office building let out loud hoots and applause. Suddenly, Elmer stopped dead on the roadway to take a bow.

  Maddie’s high heel caught in the mat again. Kicking several times, frantically, she fought to loosen the narrow heel. Her heart lurched. Her throat went dry.

  Finally free, she stomped on the brake, screeching sideways up the lane to come to a full stop inches from Elmer. Her pulse pounded, her knees quivered. She gulped in deep breaths of tire-scorched air. Elmer looked back and gave her a thumbs up. Cheers and clapping resumed.

  Damned men thought her heart-pounding, diagonal stop was part of the performance. Within moments, Elmer had his shiny lime-green bike parked in front of the group of admiring men, while Maddie pulled in alongside…a Jag.

  It couldn’t be.

  She gripped the steering wheel to gain control of her scrambled emotions before swinging the door open.

  She had one leg out of the vehicle when a familiar male voice said, “Hi.” She looked up into Jon’s handsome face. “Are you all right?” he asked. “That was some tricky wheeling.”

  The hairs on her arms stood on end, along with any other hairs on her body. He couldn’t be here for the meeting, could he? A prickle of pubic hair warned her he was.

  “Hi, yourself,” she muttered, climbing down from the Jeep. “That was defensive driving. I had no idea what Elmer was up to. And, why are you here?” She crinkled her forehead. Her heart hammered.

  “I was invited.”

  Her father strode over. “Quite the show. We won’t tell your mother.” He pulled her close to his side by her shoulder. “Have you met my daughter yet, Matthews?”

  Matthews. Her throat closed up. “I—we met at the softball game.” Amongst other places.

  “You never mentioned you were the mayor’s daughter.” Jon studied her eyes, apparently looking for glimmers of deceit.

  “You never mentioned you were a consultant.”

  Taking her palm in his warm, familiar one, Jon held her hand without shaking it. She tugged her fingers free, feeling self-conscious with her father only an elbow’s length away.

  “Maddie’s sitting in at the meeting as an interested party. Her mother’s a Bain and a member of the board, but she’s unable to attend.” Her father walked them toward the staircase.

  “What a display of bikesmanship,” Fred gushed while the other members still fussed over Easy Elmer Rider. With his lime-green helmet tucked under his leather-jacketed arm and his gray hair pulled back into a ponytail at his nape, he looked like a geriatric poster boy for bikers.

  Elmer grinned, basking in his spotlight, after nearly getting himself and Maddie killed. She’d have a talk with him when he came in for the therapy treatment on his heel next week.

  “The meeting’s about to start,” her father called out, and they all climbed the stairs in single file.

  Jon made a quick mental note to ask Craig to check on Barbra Bain for conflict of interest. Her serving as a board member while also an associate with the law firm representing Bain Island certainly gave the appearance of impropriety.

  Speaking of appearances…

  “You look fabulous,” he murmured, catching a heady whiff of Maddie’s perfume when he
leaned close to her once they reached the offices.

  Did she ever? He’d lost his breath and his dick took a flying leap when she’d slipped her high-heeled leg out of the Jeep. “Could you wear those shoes and your hair like that when we meet next?”

  She smiled, but a creep of red flushed her cheeks. He chalked up her sudden shyness to her father, the mayor, dancing his close attendance.

  What a surprise that had been. And, for added bonus, she was a Bain. No wonder she feared a slip of his tongue around anyone who knew her. His knowledge of her body and mind could make quite the local scuttlebutt.

  The aroma of fresh roast filled the room. Rodger had started brewing coffee and the informal meeting got underway.

  “First off.” Elmer spoke up. “We don’t want to encourage tourism.” He shook his gray, thinning ponytail.

  “The stray sightseer who comes to visit is one too many.” Old man Denky added his opinion in a loud voice.

  “What about Rodger?” Jon cocked his chin toward the innkeeper. “Isn’t tourism your livelihood?”

  That remark gave everyone a hardy belly laugh, except for Jon and Maddie. She didn’t gut laugh. She merely chuckled.

  “I inherited the inn and some money,” Rodger said, once he stopped laughing. “The mayor gave me sound investment tips and hooked me up with a good broker. I rent rooms as a courtesy to the stranded tradesmen, who sometimes miss the last ferry, and I take pity on whatever travelers stop off. Like Denky said, we don’t get many of those.”

  “We don’t get many because we don’t have amenities to attract them.” Maddie raised her hand to halt the grumble her remark stirred. “But the natives prefer the island the way it is so we’ve never promoted tourist trade,” she clarified for Jon.

  “The board is in total agreement,” the mayor pointed out.

  Jon pulled a small leather bound tablet from his shirt pocket. “I’ll diarize that.”

  “We’re not thinking of raising taxes, are we?” old man Denky groused.

  Fred shook his sun-beaten face. “We definitely don’t want an increase in our property taxes.”

  Elmer scowled. “We’d have another Boston-style tea party on our hands.”