The Runaway

by Jennifer Bernard

  She said nothing, but her guilty expression gave her away.

  “You can’t sleep in your car. That’s not safe.”

  “Well, I’m sorry, but you’re not the boss of me. Unless you hire me, then of course you will be the boss of me, but even so, I still don’t think you can tell me what to do when I’m not on the clock. And I absolutely promise that I won’t sleep in my car while I’m on the clock. I would never sleep on the job. If you hire me, this cashier position will get my full and undivided attention.”

  He’d stared at her blankly for a moment, taken aback by her waterfall of words. Was she trying to distract him with her odd logic?

  “If I hire you, will you have a place to live that’s not a car?”

  “If you hire me, yes.” Her definitive nod set his mind at ease.

  He scanned the rest of her application. “No college?”

  “No. How about you, have you been to college?”

  He frowned at her. Kids were so cheeky these days. Not that she was so much younger—only about six years—but he generally felt ancient compared to others his age. “I’m not the one being interviewed.”

  “Oh, sorry. I was just curious. This is my first job interview, so I’m not sure of all the rules.”

  He checked her application again. “But you’ve worked at the Rocky Peak Lodge for over six years?”

  “Yes, but I got lucky. I grew up there, so no one felt the need to interview me. It’s a good thing, because I never would have gotten hired if I had to go through all this.” She waved a hand at the application.

  He smothered a laugh at the idea that filling out a one-page application was an arduous task. “Yeah, a lot of tough questions on here, especially that one about your address.”

  “Oh, I didn’t mind. It was fun. You should try it.”

  “Try it?”

  “Yes, fill out the application.” She pushed a pen across the table toward him. “Then we’ll start off on an equal footing because we’ll both know the same things about each other. College, mailing address, work experience, all the basics. It seems more balanced that way, don’t you think?”

  Incredulous, he burst out laughing. “You know, I think I’d better hire you just so you don’t give any future interviewers a heart attack.”

  “Okay. When do you need me to start? I’m available right away.”

  She was so adorable that he hadn’t had the heart to tell her he’d practically promised the job to his girlfriend’s cousin.

  And Sophie definitely let him have it when he broke the news to her. He knew she was adding it to the long list of ways he disappointed her. But when they inevitably broke up, at least he wouldn’t be stuck working with his ex-girlfriend’s cousin.

  So he owed Gracie for that—as well as for a lot of sunflowers, apparently.

  He hauled himself to his feet and strode up ramp four, across the main walkway, and down ramp two. By the time he caught up with Gracie, she’d reached the last berth on the ramp. A houseboat filled that slot.

  “Hello,” she was calling toward the cabin, which showed no signs of life. “Anyone home?”

  “The owner’s not in,” Mark told her.

  She looked over her shoulder at him. In her loose, embroidered cotton shirt, knee-length denim shorts, and flip-flops, she looked more summery than anyone ought to in March, even in Southern California. “Who lives here? It’s so cute, like a cabin in the woods except on the water.”

  “No one lives there.”

  “It’s abandoned?”

  “No. Just temporarily uninhabited. What are you doing, Gracie? I told you there’s no soliciting. If I let everyone come in here and sell things to the boats, it’d be chaos around here.”

  “I’m not selling these sunflowers. I’m handing them out for free. It’s a nice gesture for our customers.”

  “How much is that nice gesture costing me?”

  “Well, my time, I suppose, but it’s slow, and I put a “Be right back” sign on the door. And you don’t pay me very much anyway.”

  He snort-laughed…something he seemed to do a lot around his new cashier. “And the flowers?”

  “They were selling them at the farmers market. If you get there right at the end, they’d rather give you a great deal on whatever’s left than cart it all the way back to their farms. I scored with these sunflowers. Aren’t they spectacular?”

  He supposed they were fine. They were flowers. He didn’t generally pay much attention to flowers. But they looked beautiful in that basket, the rich yellow of their petals echoing the bright radiance of Gracie’s hair.

  He set his jaw against the tug of attraction. Gracie was his employee. He didn’t get involved with his workers. Also, he had a girlfriend, at least for the time being. Add to that, she was only twenty-three. He was nearly thirty, a hard-working business owner. Gracie was like dandelion fluff, breezing through his life. Blink and she’d be gone.

  The yellow cat yawned and curled up next to Gracie’s foot. Sunflowers, cat, Gracie’s hair…so much brightness made him blink.

  “So what else do you know about this houseboat?” she was asking.

  Distracted by the sunflowers and her hair, he answered without fully thinking it through. “Everything. It’s mine.”

  “Yours?” Her eyes widened as she looked back toward the Buttercup. “You own that boat? That’s amazing. I love it! That explains why no one’s home. You’re working.”

  “I don’t live on it anymore.”

  “What? Why not? If I owned such a magical thing, you’d have to pry me out of it.”

  “Well.” He tucked his thumbs in the back pockets of his work pants. “Talk to Sophie about it. She drew the line at a boat. Not the first woman in my life to do that, either.”

  “Oh. Really, Sophie didn’t want to live on this glorious craft?” She was looking at it wistfully, as if it represented the pinnacle of civilization. “Well, that’s not going to—”

  She snapped her mouth shut before she could finish that sentence.

  He looked at her curiously. “Not going to what?”

  “What?”

  “What were you about to say?”

  “Oh. Um. Nothing. Here.” She thrust a sunflower at him. “Since you’re the owner of this nautical masterpiece, this flower belongs to you.”

  He took it cautiously. “What am I supposed to do with it? I’m working. Want me to stick it in my tool belt? Maybe behind my ear?”

  Joking, he tucked the stem behind his ear, even though it was so long that it extended about a foot past his neck. The sunflower’s head was almost as big around as his own.

  Gracie laughed at him, her face taking on that impish, teasing quality that always threw him off-stride.

  “Well, you could always give it to Sophie. I’m not sure she deserves it, after rejecting this boat. But she is your girlfriend.”

  Her tone was one step away from disapproving. “You have a problem with Sophie?”

  “Me? No. Why would I have a problem with her? You’re the one who has a—” She cringed and closed her mouth again. “Never mind. I have to go. My sign said I’d be right back, and I like to be true to my word.”

  “What problem?” he asked. Now he was curious. Sophie had met his new cashier a few times but taken no particular notice of her. Her only comment was that Gracie looked like a lost kitten separated from the rest of her litter. “You sounded like you think there’s a problem with Sophie. Is it the fact that she doesn’t want to live on a boat? Most people don’t want to live on a boat.” He plucked the sunflower from behind his ear and held it loosely between his fingers.

  “Unless the whole world floods, like with Noah’s Ark, or Kevin Costner in Waterworld, then I bet you’ll suddenly become very popular—”

  “Gracie. What problem were you referring to?”

  Caught, she bit her lip and looked down at the weathered planks of the ramp. “I’m a pretty intuitive person, that’s all. I pick up on things, even things that are totall
y none of my business. Especially things that are none of my business.”

  He should let this go. What did it matter what Gracie thought about his girlfriend? Sometimes he wasn’t even sure what he thought about Sophie, or what Sophie thought about him. Whenever they were together, she spent a lot of time on her phone. The relationship she presented on Instagram was a lot more exciting than the one they had in real life.

  “Even if it’s none of your business, go ahead. I’m curious now. I’m trying to make things work with Sophie, and maybe your intuition can help.”

  She screwed up her face with a sad shake of her head. “I don’t think so.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “I don’t think it’s going to work out with Sophie. You’re not right for each other. I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but that’s what I’m picking up.”

  “You’re wrong.” He stuck the sunflower back in her basket. “Completely wrong.” Damn it, now he was determined to make it work with Sophie.

  “I’m rarely wrong. When I get a strong feeling about something, you can pretty much count on it. My brothers and sister can tell you. When my mom had her accident, I saw it in a nightmare before it happened. I mean, I thought she was my…” Cheeks flushing pink, she fell silent.

  He waited for her to continue, but she didn’t. Whatever she’d almost said, it wasn’t something she wanted to talk about.

  “I’m sorry about your mother, but this time you’re wrong. In fact, I feel like you’ve just thrown down a challenge, and I accept. I’m going to make it work with Sophie no matter what.”

  Her eyes widened, the afternoon light turning them as clear as sea glass. “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe I should propose. That would surprise the hell out of her.”

  She opened her mouth to comment—probably to warn him off—but he forestalled her.

  “Anyway, I don’t believe in psychics.”

  “I’m not a psychic.”

  “I don’t believe in anything woo-woo, or anything I can’t see or put my own hands on and know for sure that it’s real.”

  “So you don’t believe in love?”

  He gave a double take. “Love? What does that have to do with it?”

  “You’re talking about proposing to Sophie. I sure hope love is involved.”

  Oh, right. This conversation was going off the rails, the way most encounters with Gracie seemed to do. He massaged the back of his neck, which had gone tight. “That’s not what I meant. Of course I believe in love. Sort of.”

  Her forehead crinkled in confusion.

  “The point is, I don’t accept your intuition’s verdict about me and Sophie. I’m having dinner with her tonight, and don’t be surprised if I come in tomorrow with a fiancée.”

  “I can see that I’ve upset you. I’m not surprised, because no one likes their relationships to be questioned. But if you were my brother, I’d tell you—” She stopped, a stunned expression appearing on her face. “Never mind,” she said quickly. “I have to go. Here. Take these sunflowers, maybe they’ll help.” She shoved the basket at him. “I don’t know Sophie well, but most women like flowers. Good luck tonight!”

  And she hurried down the ramp toward the office.

  What was all that about?

  No doubt about it. Gracie was definitely the oddest worker he’d ever hired. Even checking her references had been an experience.

  Max Rockwell, owner of Rocky Peak Lodge, had practically attacked him on the phone.

  “You take care of my little girl, you understand me? If I hear one word about any shenanigans down there—”

  At that point, someone else had come on the phone. “Sorry about that. This is Kai Rockwell, Gracie’s brother. How is she?”

  “Uh…she’s fine? I mean, I just met her half an hour ago, so I’m probably not the best judge. I’m considering her for a job at my marina, and she put this lodge down as a reference.”

  “Ah, gotcha. Well, Gracie is a hard worker, she’s great with the customers. She singlehandedly kept our souvenir and ice cream shop going for a few years. But everything I say is going to be biased, so this call is probably pointless.”

  “Okay then. And what kind of place is Rocky Peak Lodge? Anything like a Southern California marina?”

  Kai had laughed. “It’s a lot colder and snowier, but we get plenty of tourists. Here in the mountains, you learn to work hard and take care of yourself. Gracie can chop wood, tune up the four-wheelers, run a chainsaw, even dress out a deer…though, she’ll only do it if the deer was killed by accident.”

  Mark had definitely had to adjust his image of the petite blond after that information.

  “All right, thanks. We don’t get many deer here, but occasionally someone needs help filleting a fish.”

  “Gracie’s your girl, then.”

  After that conversation, Mark had googled Rocky Peak Lodge, just to make sure it was a real place. He tended to be cautious like that. There it was, a rambling Chalet-like structure surrounded by acres of pine forests and soaring mountain peaks in the distance.

  The website even included a shot of the Rockwell family—all five kids posing with the Cascades in the background. They were rosy-cheeked and bundled into snow gear, laughing and making faces at the camera.

  And there was Gracie, the littlest of them all, sitting on one of her brothers’ shoulders, like a blond fairy. She was maybe four or five in the photo.

  And something about that tiny, bright face in the photo rang a bell. A distant, unnerving, mysterious bell.

  3

  Why hadn’t Gracie thought of this before? If she had no idea who she really was, and Mark was the boy in her memory, could he…theoretically…possibly…be related to her? Brother? Cousin?

  As she mopped the floor of the marina office that night, she retraced all the steps she’d taken to arrive here at Ocean Shores.

  She’d started with the bassinet. It had the initials MW and the word San Francisco stamped on the underside of the handle.

  That clue had taken her to the door of Mary Wing on Fulton Street. Part of her had hoped that she’d recognize Mary right away, that her birth mother just happened to create custom bassinets. But she would have felt ridiculous asking a complete stranger, “Are you my mother?” like some kind of lost puppy talking to a fire hydrant.

  As soon as the woman opened the door, Gracie knew she hadn’t found her mother; Mary Wing was Asian and probably in her 80s.

  But after cup of tea and a chat, and Mary’s careful examination of the bassinet, Gracie drove to another spot down the coast a ways. An exclusive town perched on the cliffs, home to huge mansions overlooking the ocean. Mary remembered creating the bassinet for a wealthy woman—not for the woman herself, but as a gift for a new mother who was staying with her.

  She’d located the local library and holed up with the microfiche to scan through articles from a two-year time frame about twenty-three years ago.

  That was when she’d realized that she didn’t know exactly how old she was. She’d always celebrated May 1 as her birthday. Where had that date come from? Was that the day Amanda had found her? Or did Amanda know her actual birthday?

  The questions made her a little crazy, and when she finally came across an article that seemed relevant, she almost missed it.

  Local boy reported missing at a gas station.

  The blurry photo that accompanied the article looked a lot like the boy she remembered.

  The article went on.

  Tess and Alex Castellani of Santa Rosa were on their way to a family gathering when they say their son, six-year-old Mark, simply disappeared while they were filling up at the Chevron station on Highway One. “One second he was right next to me, the next he was gone,” said a tearful Tess. “We called, we searched the woods around there, but he was simply gone.”

  Security video shows Mark looking in the window of a late-model Mercedes SUV. Police are now searching for that vehicle, as
well as two others that were also spotted at the gas station. If you have any information that might help police, call the tip line.

  “Mark Castellani,” Gracie had whispered. The name meant nothing to her. Should it? She had no idea.

  Had six-year-old Mark ever reappeared?

  She kept searching until she found another mention.

  Local boy escapes carjacker, reunites with family.

  After three weeks, six-year-old Mark Castellani has finally been returned to his family. Police say he escaped from an unidentified man who snatched him at a gas station, then headed north. Details are sketchy, but police say they believe the suspect had carjacked a Mercedes SUV at some point before arriving at the gas station. The boy was found disoriented but uninjured in a small town in northern Idaho. His parents say they’re grateful for all the community support and prayers.

  Says Alex Castellani, “The fact that Mark was able to escape, and able to tell police our names and even remember our phone number, is a miracle. We’re still not sure how he managed to escape, but he appears to be unharmed, and we are forever grateful for this blessing.”

  “Mark Castellani,” she repeated with a touch of awe. It was quite a story, but she wasn’t sure what it had to do with her. None of the articles mentioned a baby or a bassinet.

  But the part about going North fit—maybe. Northern Idaho wasn’t exactly the Cascades, but it wasn’t terribly far away.

  She drove to Santa Rosa next, but when she tried to locate the Castellani family, she discovered that they’d gotten divorced soon after the return of Mark. Poor boy, first a kidnapping, then a divorce. A neighbor told her they’d left the area, and the last she knew, Mark Castellani ran a marina in Southern California.

  So she’d kept on driving down the coast, the ocean a vast, sparkling companion to her right. She’d stopped for a night in Jupiter Point and soaked in the stars from the magnificent observatory. She’d driven down Sunset Boulevard, Hollywood Boulevard, so many iconic places she’d only seen in movies. It was one adventure after another—and Rocky Peak had never seemed so far away.