The thunder of footsteps had them both looking up to see Natasha standing in the doorway. Her dark, curly hair was pulled up into a ponytail, and her naturally mocha skin glowed from the sun she’d soaked up during soccer practice. She and Lucy were as different as night and day, but they both shared a grin that had to have come from the same father.
The girl wore green athletic shorts, a white shirt with the name KINCAID on the back, and black soccer cleats. Since Lucy had taken formal custody of her half sister, the girl’s grades had improved, and she’d joined a sports team for the first time. The father they shared could be volatile, and though he had granted custody to Lucy in a clearheaded moment, there were no guarantees he would not challenge her when he was released from prison. Lucy was pressing the courts for a final adoption decree.
Natasha dropped her red backpack on the floor next to a pile of untouched magazines. “Did you find any buried treasure?”
“Found some awesome paper and pens,” Megan said.
Natasha scooted along the single-access path across the room to the freshly cleared desktop. Immediately, she reached for the scrimshaw inlaid with silver. She pulled the top off and studied the pen’s dry nib. “Does it work?”
“Once we fill it with ink, then it’ll work,” Megan said.
“You have to fill it?” Natasha asked as she shook it and held it up to the light.
“That’s how they did it back in the day.”
“Seems like a lot of work,” Natasha said.
“I suppose they were used to it,” Megan said.
Steadier footsteps mingled with the scratch of dog paws from the hallway, and Lucy straightened in time to see Hank Garrison appear. Dolly, having decided months ago Hank was the new leader of their patchwork gang, was at his side. Her tail was wagging.
Hank was a tall man with broad shoulders and a bearing that suggested a soul far older than his thirty-one years. Sunglasses set atop short, dark hair; dusty, faded jeans; and scuffed work boots suggested he’d left the field to pick Natasha up from practice. When Megan’s cousin had moved back to Cape Hudson last year, he had taken the nearly orphaned girl under his wing, and though Lucy had legal custody, he continued to play an active role in Natasha’s life. Now that Lucy and Hank were dating, the kid had a stability she’d never had in her life.
Lucy shifted a stack of books in her arms as she walked up to Hank and kissed him. Megan watched as each leaned slightly toward the other. There was not only heat between them but also a strong connection.
Megan had loved Scott, and she’d thought they were going to have a perfect life. She had imagined that one day, they would move back to Cape Hudson and burrow deep roots into the sandy soil. She realized now, if they had married, they could very well have ended up like Samuel and his wife. Scott would have been traveling constantly, while she would have remained here alone to raise the baby.
“Looks like you’ve made some progress,” Hank said.
“It’s been slow going,” Lucy said. “As tempted as I was to toss all this, Megan is making sure we treat it as an archeological dig.”
“Megan treasures history,” Hank said.
“That’s exactly what it is,” Megan said.
The sound of a car door shutting drew Megan’s attention out the window to Rick’s black pickup truck. He had changed into jeans and an old T-shirt. He opened the back door and rummaged out a six-pack of colas and a few pizzas. Despite herself, her stomach grumbled, and for the first time in a few days, she actually felt hungry. “Looks like Rick brought food.”
“Thank God,” Natasha said. “I’m starving to death.”
“You’re always starving to death,” Lucy said, smiling.
“Are you saying I’m getting fat?” Natasha asked.
Lucy held up her hands. “Not at all.”
“Then why did you say I’m always hungry?” Natasha challenged.
“Because you are. There’s nothing wrong with that. Simply stating a fact,” Lucy said.
Natasha rolled her eyes. “Let’s eat on the porch. The air’s a little fresher out there.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Lucy said as the girl ran out of the room.
Megan chuckled as the girl stomped off. “I drove my mom a little crazy when I was that age.”
Lucy ran her fingers through her hair. “Tell me it didn’t last long.”
Megan shrugged. “You’ll have to ask her. But I’d say right now I’m hitting an eleven on her stress meter.”
Lucy rolled her head from side to side. “The kid challenges me at every corner.”
“She’s almost thirteen. It’s kind of expected.”
“But I’m not her mother.”
“Technically, no. But in every other sense of the word, yes.”
“I started off being the cool, hip older sister.”
“She needs a mom.”
“Until I tell her to pick up her dirty laundry, and then she reminds me that I’m not the boss of her.”
Megan laughed. “She adores you. She gets angry at you because she feels safe enough to test you.”
“Save me,” Lucy groaned.
Laughing, Megan stepped out into the sun to watch Dolly race toward Rick, her nose sniffing the pizzas. Megan closed her eyes and tipped her face toward the warmth. She drew in a deep breath and pressed her fingers into her lower back.
Without a word Rick pulled out a chair for her and then flipped open several pizza boxes. He’d also set out paper plates, the sodas, and a roll of paper towels.
Natasha went directly for the pepperoni with onions and pulled several slices onto her plate. “Rick, how did you know I was starving?”
A slight grin softened an otherwise stern face. “I’m psychic.”
Natasha bit off the tip of her first slice as she flopped into one of the four wrought iron chairs. “Why’d you get ginger ale? Grape soda goes the best with pizza.”
“Who says?” Rick asked.
“I do,” Natasha countered. The attitude in her tone had him raising a brow, and she immediately shrugged. “But I like ginger ale.”
“Good,” he said.
Rick had trained hundreds of marines, and though he had a reputation for being fair, Scott had said he was one of the toughest instructors in the corps. If Natasha thought she was going to get a rise out of Rick, she’d have to try a lot harder.
Rick nodded for Megan to sit, and, too tired to argue, she took a seat and reached for a slice. When she took a bite, she was tempted to close her eyes and moan. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever tasted anything so good.
He popped open a ginger ale and set it in front of her.
Lucy took a seat beside Natasha and grabbed a slice. “How does the pizza taste, kiddo?”
Natasha shrugged. “Okay.”
“Did you thank Rick?” Lucy asked.
Natasha stared at her as if the answer was obvious, but Lucy kept staring back at her. Finally, Natasha sighed. “Thank you for the pizza, Rick.”
“You’re welcome,” he said.
Megan drank from the can and discovered she was really thirsty. She nearly drained the entire can.
Rick grabbed a soda and leaned against the railing. “Find anything interesting today?”
Megan reached for a paper towel and wiped her fingers. “Pens, coins, dreidels, and an old planchette.” Responding to Natasha’s curious stare, she added, “The triangular piece to a Ouija board.”
“Those are kind of spooky,” Natasha said. “Could we do it sometime?”
“Funny you should say that. I bought an old set of games today,” Megan said. “I was thinking about your party. When do you want to have it?”
“Does Saturday work?” Natasha said.
“Works for me,” Lucy said.
“I thought vintage games would be fun. One game is a Ouija board,” Megan said.
“That sounds cool,” Natasha said.
Lucy, who had had the same idea shot down by Natasha a week ago, arched a brow but staye
d silent.
“Who are you going to invite?” Megan asked.
Natasha shrugged in a way that telegraphed worry more than it did indifference. “I dunno. There are some girls at school, but I don’t know if they’ll come.”
“Game night with Mystery Date and magic?” Megan asked. “They won’t say no.”
“How do you know?” The girl suddenly sounded very unsure.
“Because you’re great,” Lucy said. “And it’ll be fun.”
“You have to say that,” Natasha said.
Hank grabbed two slices of pizza and kissed Lucy. “Everyone wants to see Winter Cottage. Have the party there in the parlor. You could even do a sleepover.”
Natasha chewed her bottom lip. “Maybe.”
“I could draw up invitations,” Lucy said. “A very Spook-tacular Party.”
“It’s not Halloween,” Natasha said.
“All the more reason to have it,” Rick offered. “I have fireworks left over from July 4. We could set them off over the water.”
“That would be kind of cool.” The girl’s tone had softened, and interest now hummed under the words.
“Anybody can drive into Norfolk and go out to dinner. But not anybody can have a haunted sleepover,” Megan said. “I could read fortunes.”
Natasha nibbled her pizza. “Maybe we could also grill out.”
Hank nudged Natasha gently on the shoulder. “I’m a grill master. So is Rick. We’re at your service.”
“That could be cool.”
“It will be cool,” Rick said.
Hank scooped up another slice of pizza. “Now I have to go back to the winery. Lucy, just tell me when and where.”
“I can do that,” Lucy said.
Hank kissed her on the forehead. “See you later?”
She smiled. “Yes.”
Hank tugged Natasha’s ponytail. “Homework before television.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Rick, that stonemason friend of yours called me about a job,” Hank said. “He’s coming by in a few weeks. He’s on the ball.”
“He’s a straight shooter,” Rick said. “You won’t be disappointed.”
When Hank was out of earshot, Natasha handed Dolly a piece of pizza. “Ouija’s kind of cool. What should we ask it?”
Megan listened as Lucy and Natasha chatted about the game and who they could potentially reach out to on the other side. There were also negotiations about homework and walking Dolly.
She marveled at Lucy’s patience and how, at age thirty, she had effortlessly slipped into mothering a moody preteen girl who was now testing her at every turn.
“So, what are you going to name the baby?” Natasha asked.
“Herminie Periwinkle,” Megan said with a straight face.
Natasha’s eyes widened, and then her mouth stretched into a smile. “That name’s going to be heavy lifting when she’s in middle school.”
They’d been playing this game for the last couple of weeks, and Megan’s name choices were getting more outlandish. In truth, she had no idea what she was going to name the child.
“What about Princess Fairy Dust?” Natasha asked.
“Good choice,” Megan said. “I’ll add it to the list.”
“Alicia Stardust,” Lucy said.
“Another sage choice. But remember, girls, we can’t name her until we meet her,” Megan said.
“Megan,” Rick said, “I made an official call to the Crawford house yesterday.”
“Everything all right with Herman?” Lucy asked.
“He’s fine. He has a boat for sale, and I went to look at it.”
“You going to buy the boat?” Natasha asked.
“Nope. Too expensive. Anyway, Herman said he has pieces of furniture that once belonged to Winter Cottage. He said he’d be willing to show them to you. Apparently, he contacted an antique dealer named Duncan, who said you’d be interested.” He dug a neatly folded piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to her.
“That would be great,” Megan said. “Did he say what kind of pieces he had?” Rick’s handwriting was bold, neat, and precise, conjuring images of self-confidence and direction.
“He said something about a table and chairs,” Rick said.
“What kind of table?”
Rick shook his head. “I have no idea. I thought I would leave that to the two of you.”
Rick was a details man, and for him not to know meant he’d been rushed or focused on something more important. “That’s great. Thank you. I’ll call him today.”
“He did say he’s leaving for a vacation tomorrow, so if you want to get over there today or tomorrow morning, that would be the time.”
Megan never said no to historical artifacts, especially when they related to Winter Cottage. She appreciated that the universe was sending her so much abundance, but juggling it all was turning into a challenge. “Let me call him right now.”
She dialed the number on the paper, and as the phone rang, she pushed to her feet and walked away from the group. The phone rang once, twice, and it kept ringing. She was on the verge of hanging up when she heard a rushed, “Yep, what do you want?” A television blared a game show in the background.
She tucked a thick strand of hair behind her ear. “Mr. Crawford, this is Megan Buchanan. Sheriff Markham said you might have furniture for Winter Cottage?”
“Who said what?” Crawford yelled as a dog started barking in the background.
“I hear you have furniture,” Megan said. “For Winter Cottage.”
“Winter Cottage? Yeah, I have a card table and four chairs. But I’m leaving at first light. Come and get it now or wait until December.”
She checked her watch. The Crawford place was up Route 13, about fifteen or twenty minutes from here. It would be easy enough to assess the pieces and decide if she needed them. Getting them loaded and transported was another matter. “Can I come by now?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Okay. See you soon.”
When she ended the call and turned back to the group, Lucy and Natasha were inspecting the planchette, but Rick was moving in her direction. “How about I ride over there with you and help?”
“Aren’t you on duty?” Megan said.
“I’m always on duty. I can just as easily respond from the Crawford place as here.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be getting a deputy soon?”
“Town council has to approve it. And they don’t always move fast.”
Megan was tempted to refuse Rick. He’d helped her so much since she’d moved back to Cape Hudson, and if she wasn’t careful, she’d end up relying on the guy. And that was destined not to end well when she and the baby moved on to the next job.
As if he saw the wheels moving in her head, he asked, “What’s the downside of me helping?”
“None, I suppose. Sure, let me tell Lucy,” she said.
“Do you want to finish your pizza?”
“I’m stuffed.”
“You barely ate.” Hints of censure hovered around the words.
Rick and her mother were on the same page. Her mother was looking out for her via satellite, and no doubt she had spoken to Rick.
Scott had often said that loyalty ran deep in Rick, and as soon as Rick had learned she was pregnant with Scott’s baby, whatever loyalty he’d had for his old friend extended to his child.
Megan felt a pang of irritation, not liking the idea that she was some kind of obligation to him. “Let me get my purse,” she said.
She explained to Lucy what was going on and within minutes had tossed her purse in the front seat of Rick’s vehicle. She hiked her leg, grabbed hold of the open door, and, as she did with her own truck, counted to three as she lifted her round, awkward belly.
A steadying hand took hold of her arm and with little effort gave her the boost she needed to scoot onto the seat. It had been so long since a man had touched her, and the feel of his calloused hand on her bare skin sent unwelcome waves of
desire through her body. She tried not to inhale his scent or wonder if his chest was as hard as it appeared. She scooted away, blaming all sexual desire on hormones.
A slight smile on Rick’s face said more than words ever could. He, of course, was a man of the world and knew when a woman wanted him. Thankfully, he was too much of a gentleman to say so. He reached for the seat belt, handed it to her, and when she clicked it over her belly, he closed the door and walked around the front of the car, tossing his keys casually in his hands.
As he slid behind the wheel and started the engine, her gaze was drawn to his rope bracelet, which could be unraveled and used in an emergency. The faded-green color reminded her he had been wearing the bracelet since the first time she’d met him three years earlier.
She had been at a bar at Chic’s Beach just outside Norfolk, overlooking the Chesapeake Bay from the mainland side. It had been girls’ night, and drinks were half-price. The plan was for her brother to meet up with them so she could introduce him to her friends. Deacon had brought along Scott and Rick. Megan had been attracted to Rick, and she sensed he was also interested.
After a couple of drinks, the conversation had turned to politics, and it became very clear quickly that the two didn’t agree on much. Not really a stretch if you considered her peasant top and braids and his marine haircut and straight-backed posture. She couldn’t remember exactly what they had been arguing about, but the conversation was basically the third rail of whatever budding desire they had. He had made a crack about her getting a real job, and it was all downhill from there. Scott, always quick with a smile, had worked his way into the conversation and grabbed her attention. Whatever spark she had shared with Rick had been completely doused.
April 1, 1939
From the Journal of Samuel Jessup
SS Mayhew cut away from the convoy two days ago and shifted direction toward the harbor of Le Havre, France, three days away. We spotted a U-boat two days ago on radar, and my captain ordered me to drop depth charges. The underwater explosions detonated the U-boat’s own arsenal, and when the seas calmed, the blip on the radar was gone. We apparently got her. We aren’t at war, and some of my men think I overreacted, but I’ve heard tales of the U-boats and how fast they can sink a ship.
Spring House Page 6
