by Clay, Verna
The girl jerked upward and leaned against her elbows. "I'm not going anywhere with you. I don't know you. You could be a mental case for all I know."
Again, Noah was amazed by her eyes and rocked back on his heels, taking in her appearance. Short-cropped, muddy blond hair stuck out in several directions and small ears, pierced multiple times with tiny jewels, seemed apropos to her defiant attitude. However, a cute, up-tilted nose, high cheekbones and delicate mouth, contradicted the look. With her tiny body, she actually appeared rather elfin. He retorted, "I don't know what your problem is, but I'm trying to help you. Do you want to get an infection, or worse, gangrene?"
"Maybe that's preferable to being murdered by a lunatic."
Noah jumped to his feet. "Lady, the only lunatic around here is you!"
The girl started to rise, but as soon as her foot touched the ground she yelled and dropped back down.
Placing his hands on his hips, Noah said, "Now would you like some help? And if you're worried about my character, my grandfather owns the marina, the museum, and the best restaurant in town. He's a pillar of the community and because I'm his grandson, you can trust me implicitly."
He waited for her response and when she lifted her strange eyes to his, he was again gut-punched. Softening his tone he squatted and said, "My name is Noah Constanzo and I live about three-quarters of a mile down the beach." When the girl didn't respond he said, "You really need to get that cut cleaned up."
Finally, she acquiesced. "I don't know if I can walk that far."
"You won't have to. I'll carry you on my back."
She lifted her different colored eyes to his again and said, "Oh, no. That won't work."
Before she could argue more, he gingerly clasped her arm to help her up. Once she was standing on one foot, he turned and bent low. "Climb on my back and put your arms around my neck."
She made an unintelligible sound and didn't move.
He sighed and stood straight. "Okay, my cell phone is in my pocket and I'm calling the paramedics." He reached for his phone.
"No! I'll go with you. Bend down again."
Noah bent low enough for her to easily climb on his back and then reached for her backpack. Before standing, he also picked up the broken glass and dropped it in a pocket of the backpack. "I hate it when people litter our beaches." He stood. "Are you ready?"
She said near his ear, "Yes, but you better not be a strait jacket candidate."
4: Rose
Vicky woke feeling as if she hadn't slept at all. After discovering the broken frame with Rose's little dress spilling out of it, and then running back to her room to spend a few panicky minutes, her rational mind had finally decided the frame had fallen because of gravity. That realization had calmed her imagination, but hadn't helped her sleep. Nightmares she couldn't quite remember had plagued her all night.
Dragging herself out of bed, she got the coffee brewing and made it extra strong. She took a shower and dressed, and by the time she poured her coffee, she was feeling less like a zombie. Carrying her cup with her, she headed toward what had once been the servants' stairs and decided daylight made all the difference in the world. She felt silly about panicking as she passed through the kitchen and dining room, and entered the main hallway to ascend the central staircase. She entered Rose's bedroom and knelt beside the broken frame and shattered glass. Carefully, she lifted the frame to inspect the wire that had moored it to the wall. It wasn't broken or even frayed.
Believing the hook holding the frame to the wall would be torn away, she stepped to the wall, but there were actually two hooks, neither of which showed any stress. In fact, when she pulled on them, they were still firmly embedded.
Refusing to allow her mind free rein again, she returned to the landing and descended the stairs. She entered the kitchen to retrieve a broom and dustpan from a small closet, still refusing to speculate about how a heavy frame could jump off a wall.
Back in the bedroom she gently removed glass from around the little dress and set it in the bassinet for the time being. The action started the bassinet rocking, which was kind of creepy, because it reminded her of the night before.
She finished cleaning and stood with the shards in the dustpan. The baby's bed was still rocking.
It should have stopped by now.
Rather than dump the glass in the upstairs trash container, she returned to the kitchen to dispose of it and put her broom and dustpan away. She paused for a moment to stare out the window and then rearrange a few antique kitchen gadgets on shelves before heading back to Rose's room.
The rocking will have stopped by now.
She entered the room and fixated her gaze on the bassinet that was still moving.
5: Sleep
Noah studied the face of the girl sleeping on his couch. She appeared to be about his age, seventeen, and he wondered where she'd come from. He'd never seen her at school or around town, so he decided she was probably a tourist on vacation with her parents. And since her clothing and backpack were old and frayed, they probably weren't an affluent family visiting their second home on Ocean Boulevard. She moaned when she turned onto her side and he imagined her foot hurt like hell.
An hour earlier, when they'd reached his home, he'd carried her on his back into the pool cabana and set her on a stool beside the shower. Then he'd gently introduced her foot into the spray to clean the wound and vacillated between taping it shut or taking her to the emergency room. She'd made the decision for him.
"If you're thinking about taking me to the hospital, you can forget it. I don't care how bad it is. I have white coat syndrome and I guarantee you the doctors will want to do a psychiatric evaluation."
Noah had looked at her like she was nuts and she'd replied dryly, "See, you already think I'm crazy." He'd stared into her pale blue eye and dark blue eye, knowing she was playing him. "I don't think you're crazy. I just think you have a chip on your shoulder and one of the worst attitudes I've ever been around."
She'd almost smiled. "If you think this is bad, then you haven't seen anything yet, rich boy."
"My name is Noah."
"My name is Sunny, and not because I have a sunny disposition."
That made Noah smile.
"And it's called heterochromia iridis."
He hadn't known what she was talking about. "What is?"
"My weird eyes."
"They're very pretty."
She'd retorted, "No. I'm not sleeping with you."
Jerking backward, he had exclaimed, "What the hell! Maybe you are crazy." Then he'd jumped to his feet. "Wait here while I get some antiseptic and bandages from the house."
After he'd returned neither of them spoke as he set about cleaning her wound, wrapping it with gauze, and tightly taping it. To her credit, she wasn't as vocal as she had been on the beach, and only whimpered when he applied antiseptic.
Afterward, he'd helped her to stand and when she'd said, "Just give me a drink of water and then I'll be out of here," he'd crossed his arms and replied, "So you think you're going to walk all the way back to town."
"Yes, unless you drive me there."
"Where are you staying?"
"None of your business."
"Are your parents in town?"
"None of your business."
He'd almost grinned when he said, "Are you hungry?"
"None of…" She'd hesitated. "You can make me a sandwich before you drive me to town."
Noah had made a sweeping motion. "Can you walk or do you want me to carry you to the kitchen?"
She'd snorted. "Don't even try."
He'd then led the way out of the cabana to the glass pocket doors of his home and opened them wide as Sunny whistled. "So this is how rich people live?" Ignoring her remark, he'd walked across the great room to the kitchen with her hobbling behind him, and motioned for her to sit on one of the island stools. While pulling the makings for sandwiches from the fridge, he'd tried to get more information from her, but she had evaded his que
stions with more snarky remarks.
After eating two sandwiches loaded with everything: pickles, tomatoes, lettuce, cheese, ham, chicken, and even potato chips, she'd confided, "Not that it's any of your business, but I need to go to the cheapest motel in town. I've decided to stay in Somewhere for a while."
"What about your parents?"
"What parents?"
"How old are you?"
"None–"
"I know. None of my business. Now, how old are you?"
"Old enough to vote. How old are you?"
"Seventeen. I'll be eighteen in February."
"Are your parents going to throw you a birthday bash to celebrate your coming of age?" In and of itself the question had been reasonable, but not the way she'd asked it, and Noah was getting tired of her attitude. "My father is dead and the whereabouts of my mother unknown."
Unexpectedly, her haughty expression had softened. "I-I'm sorry."
Mesmerized by the softness that entered her eyes, Noah had absentmindedly said, "My grandfather raised me."
"Is he a good man?"
"The best."
"You're lucky." The girl's unguarded moment vanished and she'd stood, wincing. "I'm ready to go."
Noah hadn't wanted her to leave just yet. "You should rest on the couch for a while." Before she could protest he'd added, "Let me call some motels and find out which is the least expensive but in a nice part of town."
"I don't care if it's in a nice place. I can take care of myself."
Noah had shaken his head, exasperated with the girl. "Okay, but at least let me find an inexpensive one for you. I don't feel like chasing all over looking for one."
"I didn't ask you to chase all over. Just drop me off in town at a second hand store so I can buy some crutches. Then you're off the hook."
Noah had gritted his teeth to keep from shouting at the silly girl, and motioned toward the couch. "Please rest while I find a motel."
When she'd started to protest again he'd given her a look that must have conveyed his mounting anger.
"Okay. Okay."
He'd watched her hobble to the couch because he knew she wouldn't accept his assistance, and then retrieved his phone from his pocket to start a search of Somewhere's motels. After navigating to a few websites, he'd found one several blocks off Main Street that had an average 3.9 rating, and thought he'd run it by Sunny. When he'd glanced up, she was stretched out on the couch sleeping soundly.
6: Pride
Sunny stretched her arms and pulled the comforter closer. She moved her legs and squealed when searing pain shot up her right leg from her foot. Jerking the upper half of her body upright, she glanced anxiously around the beautiful room with glass doors open to the outside. She could hear the sound of the ocean and suddenly remembered her horrendous morning. It had started out so well with a walk along the beach, but ended in disaster when she'd stepped on a shard of glass and ripped her foot.
From the position of the sun, she'd been asleep for a long time. She glanced around the room looking for preppy boy, but it was empty. Slowly sitting and lowering her legs over the side of the couch, it took all of her willpower to keep from crying out.
Everything was a mess. Her bus was long gone. She had no place to stay. She didn't know if she could walk. And if she wanted to remain in town for any length of time, finding a job would be delayed for several days. She was screwed. She blinked back tears, heard footsteps, and quickly shifted into her hard-ass persona.
"I was wondering when you'd wake up," said pretty boy.
"Why didn't you wake me sooner? I need to check into a motel," she replied with hostility.
Noah sat on the chair opposite the couch. "About that motel; I found one…but I have another idea."
Her eyes rounded and she scooted backward. "Don't even think about it. I don't trade favors for anything."
Noah frowned in puzzlement and then his eyes rounded, too. "You think that I…" He jumped to his feet. "Hell, I'm trying to help you, not sleep with you! You are a piece of work, lady!" He stomped to the kitchen and opened the fridge.
Sunny almost believed the guy.
He jerked a carton of milk from the fridge and drank directly from the spout.
"That's disgusting!"
"Not as disgusting as your inference. And I'm the only one who drinks milk in the house."
Neither of them spoke as Noah put the carton back, and then said, "Would you like something? There's Pepsi, 7-Up, iced tea, Gatorade."
"Did you drink directly out of them?"
"No."
"Okay, I'll have a 7-Up."
"With or without ice?"
"With."
A couple of minutes later Noah handed her a tall glass of soda and she gulped it. She loved the fizz.
Noah had returned to his seat across from her and calmly said, "Would you like to hear what I was getting at before you convicted me of something horrendous?"
She tried to move her foot to a more comfortable position and winced. "I'm listening."
He studied her face as he spoke. "I live here with my grandfather, but we have a casita for guests. Right now it's empty. I called my gramps to explain your situation and asked if you could stay in the casita until your foot heals, and he didn't have a problem with it. So…you have a place to stay for free if you want it."
Indignation caused Sunny to sit higher. "And just what is my situation since you seem to know so much about me?"
Noah lifted his hands in the air. "Are you going to go off on me again when I'm trying to help you? Obviously, you've cut your foot, you don't have a place to stay, and so you probably don't live around here. And since you don't live around here, you don't have a job here. It doesn't require Sherlock Holmes to figure it out. So, if I'm wrong, tell me which part."
Sunny stared at him without answering. What could she say when he was correct about everything? While she was thinking about how to respond, he said, "Let me finish my proposal." He shook his head and started again. "Let me finish my idea."
Sunny glanced away from his gorgeous chocolate brown eyes and waited.
He continued, "Since you said you can vote, I'm assuming you're eighteen or older, so if you need a job, I know a good place to start."
Despite her antagonism toward the kid, her interest was suddenly piqued. Swallowing her pride, she returned her gaze to his and waited to hear what he had to say. She expected him to gloat at capturing her attention, but nothing in his expression or demeanor showed that. He merely said, "There's a B & B on the corner of Main Street and Ocean Boulevard called Hope Bed & Breakfast that's owned by a relative, and she was just telling me last week that she's going to hire someone to help with the day-to-day running of her place."
Sunny's heart jumped. All of her life she had wanted to work at a B & B. The ones she'd seen in magazines or the internet or television, always seemed so homey and welcoming. She suddenly envisioned the smell of homemade bread wafting throughout the house, fresh flower arrangements in pretty vases, and a gracious lady welcoming her guests. She bit the inside of her jaw to keep from shouting, "Yes!"
Noah said, "Is that something you might be interested in?"
She took her time in answering. "I guess so."
Noah grinned and his relieved expression did things to her heart. She wasn't used to being around nice guys, especially good looking ones. He was geeky, but cute, with wavy dark brown hair, not too short or long, a strong nose, prominent cheekbones, great tan, thin mouth, and really nice teeth.
He stood. "What about the casita? Would you like to see it?"
"I guess so. But I'm not letting you carry me on your back again."
Preppy boy laughed. "You are the most cantankerous woman I have ever met. But maybe I'll get on your good side when I tell you I found some crutches in the garage. I just need to wipe the dust off."
When Noah left the room Sunny placed her hands on her warm cheeks. Maybe everything wasn't such a mess after all.
7: Gabby
Gabby answered her cell phone. "Hello, Noah."
"Hi, Aunt Gabby."
When he hesitated, her heart started to pound. "Is everything okay? Is your grandfather okay?"
"Oh, yes. The reason I'm calling is to find out if you still have that job opening for an assistant at the B & B."
"I've interviewed a few people and narrowed it down to two. Why?"
"Well, I met someone who's interested in the job. Do you think you could interview her?"
"Of course. What's her name? Does she live in Somewhere?"
"Her name is Sunny. Ah, I don't know her last name." He hesitated again. "I guess I should start at the beginning."
Gabby listened to the boy who was her dead husband's distant cousin, but always called her Aunt Gabby, as he described his encounter with a young woman that morning. She thought about her son's admonishment that she was too gullible, but at the age of fifty-seven, she had no intention to stop listening to her gut. If Noah thought the girl deserved a chance, then she'd get it, with or without an interview. But to keep Noah from thinking he was taking advantage of her, she agreed to an interview in five days, after the girl's foot mended.
She hung up and decided to warm her coffee and sit outside in the sunshine. Being the beginning of October, winter would soon bring storms and colder weather. She walked to the sideboard in the dining room to add more coffee and a dollop of cream to her cup, and then made her way to a rocker on her front porch. All of the B & B guests had left for the day and her chefs, Jennie and James, affectionately known as J & J who work at the B & B, were in the kitchen baking bread. Gabby sipped her coffee, watched waves lap the shore of the B & B's private beach, and thought about an incident that had happened a few weeks earlier and given her many sleepless nights. Closing her eyes, she relived the event.
