Sand Castle Bay

by Sherryl Woods

  Sometimes instinct kicked in and sent him in a particular direction. Norfolk had made sense because of its proximity to the North Carolina coast and its seaside location. Charlotte had been attractive because he’d wanted to experiment with a different type of market. Both additions had proven as successful as the original right here in Sand Castle Bay.

  He sensed Pete watching him, opened his eyes and chuckled. “I’m not going to decide right this second. You could go and do something else, instead of sitting there staring at me.”

  “I thought you might want to bat around the pros and cons,” Pete said. He held up a sheaf of papers. “I have all this market research if you want it.”

  “No, I trust you not to bring me anything that you haven’t thoroughly explored.” He studied the eager expression on Pete’s face. “But you have a preference. I can tell from that glint in your eyes. Go ahead. Tell me.”

  Pete nodded. “I’d like to see us take a crack at New York,” he admitted. “I know it’s a crazy, unpredictable, ridiculously expensive market, but I think we’re ready for it. What’s that expression? Go big or go home, something like that?”

  Boone regarded him skeptically. “Tell me your thinking,” he suggested, rather than immediately blowing the idea out of the water based on costs alone.

  “I think we could find our niche there, I really do,” Pete said, clearly excited by Boone’s willingness to listen. “Nobody’s doing exactly what we do.”

  “Okay, let’s go with that premise,” Boone said, though he didn’t entirely buy that there weren’t plenty of seafood restaurants in a city the size of New York. “The cost for real estate is much higher than it is here, whether we lease or buy. Employee costs are going to be higher, too. So are food prices. That means we couldn’t serve a meal for anything like the prices on our menu here.”

  “No,” Pete agreed, “but New Yorkers are used to paying more for quality.”

  Boone continued to play devil’s advocate. He wanted Pete to realize the downside on his own. “And what happens when one of our regulars from here or one of the other cities goes to New York, decides to order one of our signature dishes they’re used to getting for under twenty bucks and sees a bill for twice that? Maybe even more?”

  “How often would that happen?” Pete argued, though he seemed less sure of himself.

  “More than I’d like, I’m afraid,” Boone said. “A lot of people who discover us here travel to other cities, Pete. I’ve had quite a few customers mention to me that they’ve been to our Norfolk location or to Charlotte. I don’t want them to walk into a restaurant of ours in New York and walk out feeling as if they’ve been cheated. And I don’t see any way around that happening.”

  “But making it big in New York could establish us on the national playing field,” Pete said. “We’d have people begging us to open in other cities.”

  “If it happened that way, it would be incredible,” Boone agreed. “I’m more worried that a failure could destroy our reputation.”

  “We wouldn’t fail,” Pete said confidently.

  Boone shook his head. “Sorry, Pete, I think we need to focus on these other options where we can provide quality food for reasonable prices.”

  There was no mistaking Pete’s disappointment. Boone even understood it. Pete was eager to make his mark in the restaurant business, and he clearly believed the place to do that was New York where celebrity chefs abounded and fine dining was an art form.

  “Pete, will you be satisfied with anything other than New York?” Boone asked pointedly. “One of the reasons you and I have always worked so well together is that we’ve been on the same page.”

  “I have to admit it throws me that you’re questioning my judgment like this,” Pete admitted, then sighed. “But to be honest, I can see your point. I don’t like it, but I can see it.”

  Boone studied his friend. He sensed there was something else behind this desire to tackle New York. “Is there some reason you’re so anxious to get to New York, other than the challenge of that competitive environment?”

  For a moment Pete looked so startled by the question that Boone almost took pity on him and let it go.

  “A woman?” Boone guessed.

  Pete stared at him as if he’d suddenly displayed a previously unknown talent for ESP. “How the heck did you figure that out? I haven’t said a word about her.”

  Boone grinned. “I recognized the symptoms. So, what’s the scoop? Are you serious about her?”

  “There hasn’t been time to get serious,” Pete said with frustration. “We met in Norfolk when she was there to welcome her brother home when his navy ship got back into port after being at sea for a year. She’s been back a couple of times. I flew up to New York for a few days right before this whole hurricane thing came up and I had to get back here. She got me excited about the possibility of living up there.”

  Boone thought of his own complicated long-distance situation. “And is living in New York the only way you can see this relationship working out?”

  “Of course not,” Pete said. “I just got caught up in the idea, that’s all. Who knows if it will even work with this woman? She’s a high-powered attorney. We’ve had a lot of fun together. She likes good food and great wine, so we hit some excellent restaurants in New York. That’s when I started sizing up the competition.”

  “And?”

  “I think we’re as good as, if not better than, most. Lexie—that’s her name, short for Alexandra—agreed. I figure she’s pretty savvy.” He shook his head. “I have to admit, after seeing her on her home turf, I started wondering what she saw in me.”

  “Even without a New York restaurant you can point to, you’re pretty successful in this field,” Boone reminded him. “You certainly know food and wine, which you said matter to her. Don’t sell yourself short.”

  Pete grinned. “She seems to think I have a few other things going for me,” he admitted. “And thank goodness we can both afford the airfare.”

  “Maybe I’ll even throw in a couple of tickets to New York with your bonus this year,” Boone said. “Now, let’s get serious about these other possibilities. Which one was at the top of the list if we leave your libido out of the mix?”

  Pete laughed, clearly not taking offense. “I’d have to say Charleston, especially if we can find the right location in the historic district. I gave you my notes on a couple of properties that would work.”

  Boone nodded. “I’ve always liked Charleston. Let’s take a trip down there in the next couple of days. I’ll have to bring B.J. along, but we should be able to get the lay of the land. See about setting up the usual appointments with a Realtor, the Chamber of Commerce, the mayor, maybe a couple of other key players.”

  “Got it,” Pete said, his good mood restored. “When do you want to go?”

  With Emily out of town, Boone figured now would be a good time. It would provide just the distraction he needed. Since he wasn’t counting on Emily’s quick return despite her promise, he suggested, “Monday, the day after, if you can pull it together.”

  “I’ll make it happen,” Pete promised.

  And with luck, Boone thought, by the time they were back, Emily would be home.

  * * *

  Naturally Emily’s flight connections hadn’t gone as smoothly as she’d hoped, so she arrived Monday at mid-day, too late to meet Sophia at home. She had to go directly to the property under consideration for the safe house. In a way, it was probably better. Sophia hadn’t been able to color her expectations about the property. She would see it with fresh eyes.

  “I’m so sorry,” she apologized to Sophia and the two women with her, one from the board of directors of the shelter, the other a Realtor. “The flight from Atlanta was cancelled. I had to wait till this morning for another one.”

  She glanced past the wom
en to the house. Built on a sizable corner lot, she could immediately imagine its potential, but it required a real stretch of her imagination. Right now the yard was overgrown and littered with trash. The paint on the stucco exterior was peeling, so that patches of an original turquoise color showed through a more recent faded pink. The downstairs windows were behind bars and mostly broken. The concrete porch steps were crumbling and dangerous.

  Emily glanced at Sophia and lifted a brow. “Seriously?”

  Sophia only grinned at her. “Oh, don’t even try to pretend you’re not intrigued,” Sophia chided. “You know you can’t resist a challenge like this, Emily.”

  Emily tried to keep her expression dismayed, but couldn’t. Sophia knew her too well. “How’s the interior?”

  “Worse than the outside,” the board chairman said direly. Marilyn Jennings, the wife of a major movie studio president, didn’t look hopeful.

  “But promising,” Taylor Lockhart argued, spinning it as only an excellent Realtor possibly could. “Right, Sophia?”

  “Beyond promising,” Sophia insisted optimistically. “Emily, you’re going to love it. I know it.”

  “Then let’s take a look,” Emily said, following them inside.

  Almost immediately, she saw the room that Sophia had envisioned as a children’s playroom. The kitchen, though a disaster of outdated appliances, peeling linoleum and obviously rusty plumbing, was roomy enough for a large communal table.

  In fact the biggest recommendation for the entire house was its size. All of the downstairs rooms could accommodate multiple adults with children underfoot. The drawback was the lack of a downstairs bathroom.

  Upstairs there were a half-dozen bedrooms large enough for a mother and child to live comfortably, or perhaps two children with the use of bunk beds. One sunny room was large enough for, perhaps, a mother with three smaller children. Emily could already envision trying to make maximum use of the space and turning each room into something homey and comfortable with simple furniture, bright colors and textures. That, she knew, would be a godsend for many of these single-mom families fleeing bad situations. They needed a safe, clean, comfortable environment, not luxury. The bedrooms would give them privacy. The playroom, living room and yard would give them much-needed space.

  “There are only two bathrooms,” she noted. “That’s a problem. With this many people, we should have at least three, and four would be better. I’m not sure how we can do that without giving up one of the bedrooms. I’ll have to check into code requirements.”

  “Come with me,” Sophia said, leading the way to a door at the end of the hall. She opened it to reveal a sizable storage closet. “Could you work with this? It’s right next to one of the existing bathrooms, so the plumbing wouldn’t be a nightmare, right?”

  Emily studied it thoughtfully. The space wasn’t huge, but it would certainly accommodate a sink, toilet and walk-in shower. “I’ll get with the plumber and see what he thinks,” she said, making a note on her phone, where she’d already stored other observations and preliminary measurements, along with photos of every room they’d been in.

  “Want to see the attic?” the Realtor asked.

  Emily’s excitement stirred. “There’s an attic?”

  Taylor grinned. “Wait till you see.”

  Though access now was through a pull-down staircase, that could easily be changed to something more permanent, Emily thought, making another note. As she climbed the steps and emerged into a huge room filled with sunlight, she gasped.

  “Two more bedrooms, at least,” she said at once.

  “Or a dormitory style room with a bath for the older kids,” Sophia suggested. “A room with beds and desks, so they can study. It would give the moms and the teens both a little more privacy.”

  Emily nodded. “Not coed, of course.”

  “Of course,” Sophia agreed.

  “Some moms won’t be comfortable being separated from their kids,” Marilyn commented. “They need to know they’re close and safe.”

  “The little ones, for sure,” Sophia said. “But the teens? I think they need this tiny little taste of independence.” She regarded her friend with a coaxing smile. “We’ll talk about it some more, okay?”

  “And you’ll win,” Marilyn responded with an air of resignation. “You always do.”

  “Only because I’m so often right,” Sophia joked. “Okay, Emily, you’ve seen it all. What do you think? Can you pull off a miracle?”

  “Do you still want this open by Thanksgiving?”

  “Absolutely,” Sophia said, her expression unyielding.

  Emily hadn’t expected any equivocation, and she’d prepared herself for an impossible schedule. “What fun is ordinary when we have a chance to perform a miracle? Let me spend tonight and tomorrow making some calls.” She glanced at the Realtor. “Can I have access again, maybe late tomorrow afternoon, if I can line up some people to take a look and get started?”

  The woman chuckled. “You’re asking the wrong person. If the board signs the papers this afternoon, they’ll be able to give you all the access you want.”

  “You’re moving that quickly?” Emily asked, her gaze on Sophia.

  “We don’t have time to waste. I’ll have a set of keys sent over by courier as soon as these papers are signed. My attorney has been on this for several days now, getting the paperwork taken care of. I’ve called in every favor in my arsenal, and we’ll have the title by tomorrow. He’s already started the process for building and zoning permits.”

  “That could take forever,” Emily warned.

  “Not with Sophia on the case,” Marilyn commented. “The mayor swoons when she walks into the room and sees to it that she gets whatever she wants. I’ve never known anyone who could cut through bureaucratic red tape the way she can.”

  Emily regarded Sophia with admiration. “Is there anything you can’t accomplish when you set your mind to it?”

  Sophia winked at her. “Not so far. And I’m counting on you to live up to my standards.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Emily promised her.

  But even as she spoke, she wondered how on earth she was going to pull it off and still keep her promise to get back home to Boone later in the week.

  * * *

  “Oh, Boone, you should see this place,” she said, when she finally spoke to him that evening. It was already past eleven in North Carolina, but it was the first chance she’d had to call after contacting all of her most reliable contractors and vendors. She’d used every persuasive power she possessed to get several of them to agree to meet her at the house tomorrow.

  She described the house and all the work it was going to require. “But when it’s finished, it’s going to be so perfect,” she said. “I can practically hear the echo of happy children in those rooms.”

  “It sounds like there’s going to be an incredible amount of work involved,” he said. “Are you going to have to stick around to oversee it all, especially with such a tight deadline?”

  “Maybe a little more than I’d originally thought,” she admitted. “But the people I’m hiring are good. They can be left on their own. I’ll definitely make it back next week, if only for a couple of days.”

  “I hope you’re talking about the end of the week,” Boone said. “I didn’t expect you so soon. Pete and I are going to Charleston at the beginning of the week to check into opening a new restaurant there.”

  “Oh,” she said, taken aback. She hadn’t envisioned any sort of conflict arising because of his schedule. “I’d hoped to come earlier, then get back here before things kick into high gear. I want workmen on the job by the end of next week and I need to be here to oversee that, at least the first few days.”

  “I see.” He fell silent.

  “This is going to be harder than we thought, isn’t it
?” she asked, not even trying to hide her disappointment. “Could you maybe reschedule, just this once?”

  “Pete’s spent the whole day setting up meetings with important officials down there. We can hardly call back and ask them to change the appointments. We’re trying to get off on the right foot.”

  “I know. You’re right. I shouldn’t have asked.”

  “And obviously you can’t juggle what’s on your plate,” Boone said. “Not with those families counting on you.”

  “Okay, look, this is the first shot we’ve taken at this,” Emily said. “We’re bound to hit a few kinks. Let’s compare notes now for the following week. That way we’ll be locked in when we’re both free.”

  “Sure,” Boone said. “I’ll be back. No travel on the schedule for that week. The only thing pressing will be getting B.J. ready to go back to school.”

  “Maybe we can take him shopping,” Emily suggested. “That would be fun. I can remember going with my mom to buy new school clothes every fall.”

  Boone laughed. “You were a girl. Trust me, B.J. does not get excited about clothes shopping or picking out notebooks and pencils and a lunch box. He prefers to complain about whatever I bring home.”

  “Which is why he should be along when you shop,” she argued, then hesitated. “Is this really about me coming along? Is that crossing that line we talked about?”

  Boone’s hesitation was answer enough.

  “Okay, it is,” she said briskly. “Still, I’ll be there for a few days and we’ll get to spend some time together, just you and me.”

  “And you’ll see B.J.,” Boone promised. “Just not when he’ll get any ideas about the two of us.”

  “Okay, then,” she said, managing to hide her disappointment. “I should let you get some sleep. It’s late there, and I still have work to do tonight.”

  “Em?” Boone said when she was about to hang up.

  “What?”

  “I miss you already.”

  “I miss you, too. And we are going to make this work, Boone. It’s too important for us to screw it up.”