by Verna Clay
He shook his head. "You're off the hook for now."
She motioned toward the porch. "Okay. Have a seat and I'll wash up and bring us tea." She stepped past him.
"Wait."
She paused and turned around and he reached to gently rub his thumb across her cheek. "You're smudged with dirt."
Gabby couldn't remove her gaze from his and felt the same electricity that had zinged between them so many years ago. She ducked her head. "Like I said, I'll wash up and join you on the porch."
Inside the house she rushed upstairs to her bathroom and stared in the mirror. The eyes reflecting back sparkled and the cheeks were flushed. Damn. Angrily she splashed water on her face, pulled out the large clip holding her hair in a knot at the nape of her neck, and jerked a brush through her tresses before twisting it back into a knot. She removed her smock, considered changing into a fresh blouse, and cursed again. She wouldn't try to look nice for Leo.
After she left her room she headed for the kitchen to pour two glasses of iced tea, and to prolong the moment before having to see Leo again, she complimented J & J on the Mexican meal they had served the night before. Then she gulped a breath and returned to the porch.
Leo was talking on his cell phone. "Noah, replace the merlot with our most expensive cabernet. We need to keep some merlot in reserve." He glanced at her. "Gotta go. I'll talk to you later, son."
Gabby handed Leo his tea as he pocketed his phone. "How is Noah? I haven't seen him lately."
"He's working his tail off at the restaurant and marina and hates that I'm insisting he attend Portland University after he graduates next year. He keeps telling me he wants to follow in my footsteps, and I keep telling him he has to explore his options." He blew a breath. "It's not that I'm opposed to him taking over the reins of my businesses someday, I just want him to be sure that's what he really wants. It's the same problem Dave and Doris are having with Malana." He shrugged. "Are we wrong in asking our children to explore the world when they insist they want to live and work in Somewhere?" His gaze drifted across the street. "Maybe Baxter is the exception. I always thought he'd get tired of city living and return to help you with the B & B, but he hasn't."
Gabby glanced at her hands. "That's what I thought too, but his wife messed up his head." Realizing she was speaking too intimately with Leo, she said matter-of-factly, "So, what is it you want to talk about?"
Leo moved his gaze from staring at the park across the street to staring in her eyes. "Somewhere has a problem, which means we have a problem."
23: Collision
Baxter watched his mother throughout dinner and knew something was wrong. Although she spoke with animation to their guests, it was forced, and he wondered what had happened between her playful goading that morning and now.
Faith wasn't at the table because she'd said she was dining with Vicky and Sandy, and he missed her. He made polite conversation with their guests, answered their questions, and talked about local attractions, all the while impatient for dinner to be over so he could question his mother.
Several guests retired to the library for dessert and Baxter felt obligated to join them. His mother declined with the excuse that she had to prepare menus for the next week. Baxter knew she was stretching the truth and let her know by his expression.
Finally, the guests retired to their rooms and he escaped upstairs. When he entered the sitting room his mother was on the floor in front of the coffee table shuffling through papers strewn across it. She was wearing her reading glasses and glanced up with a worried expression.
"Mother, what the hell is going on?"
She straightened and leaned back against the couch. "Leo stopped by today to deliver some bad news." She glanced at the coffee table.
Baxter sat on a chair across from the couch. "I'm listening."
"As you know, when Oliver Hope divided up Hope Cove, he left the northern end to his son, Sebastian, and the southern to his son, Randall, which through inheritance has resulted in Leo owning the southern portion and me the northern. As for the land in between, he gave it to the town with the city council having governing power. And, for years, that's worked just fine because the council has protected our town from corporate takeovers."
Baxter nodded. "Okay. So what's happened that has you and Leo so concerned?"
Gabby balled her hands into fists and said with conviction, "I love this town!"
Rather than force her to continue, Baxter waited.
Finally, she said, "Because you're gone most of the year, I'm not sure if you're aware that two new council members were elected six months ago. Before then, like always, the council wanted to keep big business out of our town, but I just discovered that the dynamics changed with the new members." She stopped speaking long enough to inhale. "Leo stopped by to tell me that Henry Ward, our longstanding board member, privately came to him with a heads up about a corporation wanting to negotiate the purchase of a portion of the public beach. They said they wanted to build a resort that would 'substantially increase our tourist base'." She made air quote marks and stared at her son. "And you know what that means."
Baxter blew a breath. "Yeah. It means Somewhere will become a huge tourist destination and other corporations will want to buy up downtown and put our small shops out of business. And our quaint town will disappear altogether." He glanced at the paperwork on the table.
Gabby waved her hand over it. "These are copies of the original documents dividing the property into the three sections. I was reading through them to see if there were any clauses that might throw a monkey wrench into selling part of the beach for commercial purposes."
"And?"
"So far I haven't found anything. Maybe you'll give it a go."
"Of course I will. I don't want Somewhere to become another cash cow for corporate swindlers. The only reason the town sold lots in the eighties was because it was going broke. We've been fiscally sound since then." He leaned forward and placed his hands on his knees. "This stinks."
Gabby started gathering the paperwork. "Yeah, to high heaven."
The next day Baxter read through the documents and could find no loophole, and by midmorning he was angry and frustrated. As his mother had pointed out, he was gone most of the year, but Somewhere was his home and the place he wanted to retire when the time came. He loved the relaxed atmosphere, the friendly townspeople he'd known all of his life, the quaint town, and the inherent beauty of the land.
After reading the documents he called Leo to discuss the situation and ask him to also read the paperwork. Leo said, "The first thing I did was pull out my copy. I couldn't find anything either so I gave it to my attorney. It didn't take him long to call and say there was nothing we could use."
"Damn."
Leo's tone was reassuring when he said, "Nothing's been finalized and it may never happen, but if the ball starts rolling in the wrong direction there's an incredible attorney in Portland I'm going to hire to fight this."
"Good. Just let me know and I'll pay my share of the expense."
"Thanks, Baxter." He hesitated. "How's your mother taking this? She was pretty disturbed, especially when I told her the location of the resort would be close to the B & B."
"She's upset, of course, but she's a tough cookie. We'll get through it."
There was silence and then Leo said, "What I didn't tell her is that the proposed resort would be four stories high and block her view of the beach beyond."
Baxter blasted out another profanity.
Leo responded, "I couldn't have said it better."
"Let's keep that part to ourselves for the time being," Baxter cautioned.
"I agree."
By the time Baxter hung up from speaking with Leo, he was livid. Jerking his sunglasses on and grabbing a water bottle from the fridge, he set out for Stone House. Maybe the walk would help his disposition.
By the time he reached the fork his overactive imagination was envisioning hoards of tourists overrunning his part of the cove.
Blindly continuing along the western trail he rounded a tree and crashed into Faith. She yelped and he had to do some fancy footwork to keep them both from toppling to the ground. By the time he'd stabilized them, he was holding her tightly against his chest with his arms splayed across her back. She pushed against his chest and gasped, "Baxter!"
He stepped back and moved his hands to her shoulders. "Faith, I'm so sorry! I wasn't paying attention! Are you hurt?"
"No. No. You just surprised me."
They stared at each other until he became aware that he was still holding her shoulders. He released her. There was an awkward silence and then he said, "I was on my way to Stone House to check on its progress. Looks like you're headed there, too. Mind if I join you?"
"Of course not."
He started to hold her elbow while they walked, but decided against it. Her body against his had felt wonderful and now he wanted to kiss her. To make conversation he said, "The weather is certainly different from the last time we were here."
She laughed softly and lifted her head to look at him. "What? You mean no torrential downpour, blinding lightening, deafening thunder; stuff like that?"
He grinned. "Speaking of adjectives, how's your fantastic romance story coming along?"
She quickly returned her gaze forward. "Oh, I'm still working out the plot and characters."
When she didn't say more, he said, "Can you give me a hint about the plot?"
"Ah, it's an adventure."
Baxter stopped walking. "Okay, Faith. You have me on pins and needles. Can you tell me anything substantial? I'm really interested."
She blushed. "I'm not a good writer. I'm just doing this for therapy. But…but…the hero is a pirate."
He grinned again. "I have a feeling you're a very good writer, but I won't press you for more information." His grin widened. "At least for now."
They continued walking and he wondered what she'd meant about the writing being for therapy. Therapy for what? He'd bet the farm it had something to do with her being a widow.
Faith stepped onto the porch of Stone House and released a sigh. She hoped Baxter wouldn't ask questions about her pirate story. If he found out he was the inspiration for her swashbuckling hero/villain, she would be mortified. Maybe she should trash the project, but the thought of doing so made her indescribably sad. No, she would continue writing until…what? It was finished and she no longer needed the distraction? Baxter left in the fall? She lost interest in the tale? She had no idea. The only thing she knew right now was that she needed to write. Her faux pas of admitting to Baxter that it was for therapy had slipped out, but thankfully he hadn't seemed to pick up on it.
Baxter unlocked the front door and stepped inside to light the lantern. He held the lamp high. "So, what do you think?"
She could see that much had been accomplished and walked to the fireplace to smooth a hand over the rough hewn spruce log that was the mantle, and then down the river stones making up the face. The firebox had been cleaned out and fresh logs were on the iron grate. "It's certainly changed. The fireplace looks awesome."
Baxter followed her and also smoothed a hand down the stones. "I'm very happy with it."
"What about the kitchen? Is it finished?"
"No, but it soon will be. Come on. I'll show you."
Faith entered the kitchen and turned in a circle. The room was fantastic! The wooden countertops were restored and the fireplace, although smaller than the one in the main room, was just as magnificent. A cauldron hung over the firebox and Faith envisioned the many wonderful soups that must have been prepared there.
Baxter said, "A penny for your thoughts."
Smiling, she replied, "I was imagining a huge pot of clam chowder simmering in the fireplace."
Baxter returned her smile and said softly, "Maybe someday we'll have to make that a reality."
Unexpectedly, Faith heard a dog bark, which in and of itself wasn't unusual, but then she heard a boy calling, "Rex! Over here!" She gasped and placed a hand over her throat. "Did you hear that?"
Baxter's brow furrowed as he watched her. "Hear what?"
When she didn't answer, he asked, "Are you all right?"
Faith wanted to tell him she'd just heard Owen calling for his dog, but she knew that would finish their tentative truce and budding friendship. Instead, she tried to compose herself. "Oh, nothing, I'm just–"
"Rex! Over here!" The voice sounded like it was just outside the house and Faith stared at Baxter. Then the dog barked again. Surely, he had heard it, but nothing in his expression registered that he had.
"Rex! Rex!" The voice sounded so near that she squealed and jumped into Baxter's arms. She clung to him and buried her face in his chest. His arms went around her and he lowered his head to her ear.
"Faith, what's wrong?"
"I-I'm not sure. I think the death of my son is making me hear things."
He tightened his hold and became her lifeline to sanity. Finally, when her heartbeat slowed and her breathing quieted, he moved his hands to her shoulders and stepped back. "Faith, look at me."
She lifted her head and inhaled a shuddering breath.
"Honey, would you feel better if you talked about whatever's bothering you?"
She couldn't remove her gaze from his and longed to finally share her pain with someone. Slowly, she nodded, but nothing came out when she tried to speak. He placed a finger over her lips. "Shh." Reaching an arm under her knees he lifted and carried her back to the main room, and she apprehensively glanced around, but there was no child or dog there. He sat on the fireplace hearth and settled her on his lap. She snuggled her head beneath his chin and burrowed closer into his warmth. He made her feel safe.
After a long time she said, "My husband and son died three years ago." She then recounted the horror of losing them, although there was one detail she left out.
Baxter listened with a combination of compassion, interest, and horror to Faith's confession about her loss. He heard every nuance in her voice and sometimes bent forward to watch the myriad expressions animating her face. And, in doing so, he experienced her pain. When she finished and lay listless in his arms, he smoothed a hand down her tearstained cheek, and although there were no words, he tried anyway. "I'm so sorry, Faith. You've endured more than anyone should have to, but you've survived. You've come to Somewhere trying to go on with your life and I admire you for that. And I'm behind you a hundred percent." He paused because words were so inadequate. Finally, he said, "I care for you."
She shifted in his arms until she was gazing up at him, and in a voice broken with sorrow admitted, "I haven't spoken to anyone like this, not even my sister or friends. I pushed everyone away. They wanted me to see a counselor, but I just couldn't bring myself to unload my feelings. But now I-I somehow feel lighter. Like I've done the right thing. Thank you for listening."
Staring at Faith's mouth, Baxter wanted to kiss her grief away. He wanted to taste that sweetness that called to him like an angelic song. He wanted to lay her across his bed and return both of them to the innocence of first love. Was it possible? He doubted it. Instead, he bent and kissed her forehead.
24: Michael
Michael David Wainwright, III, pulled his car to the curb on Ocean Boulevard and studied the circular drive of the house he was interested in. He noted the information on the real estate sign and then made a U-turn and drove north along the boulevard to the public beach parking lot. He spotted an empty space and parked his Mercedes Cabriolet. Because he had driven directly from his office in Portland, he still wore his Brooks Brothers' suit and Hugo Boss shoes. Stepping outside the car he removed his shoes and socks and tossed them onto the floorboard of the back seat. He then engaged his security system before walking to the shore. Following it south, he enjoyed the squish of sand beneath his feet. The bottom of his slacks, although he'd rolled them up, became soaked, but he didn’t care. He reached the private beach for Ocean Boulevard residents and ignored the signpost warning that it was clos
ed to the public, continuing on. Glancing occasionally at his Baume and Mercier watch, he noted how far he'd walked. When it was the same distance he'd calculated after driving away from the house, he crossed the sand until he stood at a low, natural rock wall separating the houses from the beach. The home in front of him was the one for sale. Although not nearly as fantastic as some of his other homes, it was impressive and he loved the location. Of course, if he purchased the house he would have the latest security equipment installed so that even an ant crossing the boundary would set it off.
He saw some stairs traversing the rocky outcropping and climbed them to check out the house. After a short time he returned to his car and spoke to the infotaintment system. "Give me the number for McGovern Real Estate in Somewhere, Oregon."
The virtual operator found the number and asked, "Would you like me to dial that number?"
"Yes."
After two rings a young woman cheerily answered, "Good afternoon. McGovern Real Estate."
"Good afternoon. I'd like to speak with the agent handling the home at 1111 Ocean Boulevard."
"Yes, sir. That would be Dave or Doris McGovern. Please hold a moment."
The phone went to Kenny G playing Songbird but only lasted a few seconds before a woman answered. "Hello. This is Doris McGovern. How can I help you?"
"I'm interested in the home at 1111 Ocean Boulevard."
"I can certainly understand why. It's beautiful and very reasonably priced. Would you like to schedule a tour?"
Michael knew he was about to shock the agent when he said, "No. I'd like to buy it and I'll pay the asking price. I want to use my own title company and complete the purchase in less than two weeks."
The other end of the phone went silent as Michael waited for Mrs. McGovern to recover herself. When she did, to her credit, she said calmly, "Why don't I get some information so we can start the process?"
