by Joy Avon
Falk glanced at her. “You got a house here now?”
“Don’t tell me you didn’t know I was coming to live here.” Callie itched to point out that she had written to him about it, but thought that it might sound sad and needy. He had decided not to reply to her last email, so that was his choice.
“Of course I knew that,” Falk said. “Peggy told me how Iphy couldn’t stop talking about it.”
“Where did Peggy hear Iphy talking about it?” Callie asked as she balanced on one leg to exchange her shoe for the rubber boot Falk had placed ready for her.
“At Book Tea of course.” Falk sounded surprised. “Didn’t you know Peggy works there a couple of mornings a week?”
“No. I thought Peggy was still doing those call center calls from home. The job she got just before Christmas?”
“Yeah, that too.” Falk leaned against the police car. “She’s been taking on everything she can get.”
Callie glanced at his guarded profile. She knew Falk had trouble with his widowed sister trying to do everything by herself, refusing his help with finances and with the raising of her two young sons. Falk adored Jimmy and Tate, but Peggy seemed to feel like Falk pretended to know better than she did how to raise them, and wasn’t too keen on that. Callie supposed that Peggy’s struggle to prove her independence to her brother also had to do with her still trying to find her feet after her husband’s unexpected death. Working through her grief and finding some sort of life again for her boys and herself.
“You know what?” she said. “I heard there’s this beachcombing activity. A kind of treasure hunt. I think we should try it some time. With Jimmy and Tate.”
Falk didn’t reply. Callie felt like she was sixteen again and eyeing the boy she had a terrible crush on who didn’t seem to notice she existed.
“If it isn’t a good idea, you can just say it,” she said, then added to make it sound less odd, “I mean, maybe you’ve already done it?”
“No, not at all.”
Callie had wrestled her leg into the other rubber boot and straightened up. “Let’s go find that spooked dog then.”
They went down to the beach, Daisy running ahead of them, slipping in the sand and holding her head low against the wind that came across the water.
“I can see why Elvira told me this beach isn’t popular with tourists.” Callie struggled to clamber across the rocks that separated the higher area from the waterline. “It’s wild.”
Falk reached out a hand to her. “Be careful, those boots can be slippery when the rocks are wet.”
Callie wanted to ignore his hand, but as she felt her foot slip away, she grabbed it anyway. It closed around hers in a warm, safe grip.
“What kind of dog is it?” she asked, navigating the rocky patch.
“A border collie mix. The couple just got him the other week. He had to be rehomed after his owner moved into a retirement home with a no pets rule.”
“Oh, and instead of letting him get used to his new home quietly, they took him on a trip?” Callie looked concerned. “For all we know, he could be on his way back to where he used to live.”
“That’s going to be a long hike.” Falk stared ahead of them across the stretch of beach. “Do you see something moving there? Oh, no, I think it’s just a piece of paper that got caught between the rocks.”
Callie walked beside him as they tried to conquer the wet sand and scan their surroundings for a runaway dog. It struck her how close this was to the mental picture she’d had at first, when envisioning her new life here. She had lain in bed at night dreaming of beach walks with Falk, Daisy frolicking around them, of him holding her hand. Of them stopping to sit on the rocks for a while and staring out across the sea until the sun set.
She hadn’t wanted them to dive into some crazy whirlwind romance, but she had expected to feel some kind of closeness to him. Not the alienation she felt now, as if she could sense he wasn’t happy that she had come. Had he realized when the Christmas season was over that their attraction had just been a superficial thing? Something he regretted?
“So how are Jimmy and Tate?” she asked, just as he asked, “How are the Fourth of July party preparations coming along?”
“You first,” she said, and Falk shrugged. “Tate didn’t do too well in school this year, but considering he’s still getting over his father’s death, they decided to let him go into the next grade anyway. Else he’d lose contact with his friends. Jimmy’s okay, I guess. I can never read him quite like I can read Tate.”
“Maybe it’s easier since Tate is younger and shows his emotions more? And the Fourth of July thing is coming along fine, I guess. Iphy just saddled me with a chore to do, and I’m not quite sure how to handle it yet. She wants some big event from history explored, or something …”
“Explosive?” Falk supplied. “I mean, the Fourth and fireworks is a good combination.”
“Yes, well, I guess I should just follow Quinn’s advice and dive into the newspaper archives.”
“Who’s Quinn?” Falk asked immediately, an edge to his voice.
“A guy Iphy found via a note at the community center. He’s going to paint the cottage I’m moving into. Sort of get it all set up so I don’t need to do anything.”
Falk glanced at her. “So you’re going to settle here? It’s not just for the summer vacation?”
“No. I resigned at Travel the Past, and my apartment is going to be rented to somebody else soon. I came out here with most of my stuff packed into a few suitcases, and the rest will follow shortly.” As she said it, her throat constricted again. Had it been the right decision? Could she make it work? “I thought that … well, never mind.”
Falk squinted as he stared ahead to where sand was swirling in the air. “Is that a digging dog?”
“Could be,” Callie agreed. They hastened their steps.
Daisy was still ahead of them, like the wet sand and the wind didn’t bother her at all. Spotting the flying sand, she ran straight into it. They heard excited barking.
“What if he’s unsure and nips her?” Callie asked Falk worriedly.
Falk gestured at her. “You wait here, and I’ll go catch him.”
But Callie followed along, her heart pounding for little Daisy’s safety.
When they reached the spot, they saw Daisy sitting low, staring into a cavity in which the other dog had apparently disappeared. They could hear some sort of sound coming out of the dark hole, like ragged breathing.
“Great,” Falk said. “What do we do now?”
Callie put her hand in her pocket. “I’ve got dog treats. I could coax him out and maybe then you can grab his collar?”
Falk looked doubtful. “If I make a fast move, he might get spooked and bite you. Let me have the treats, and I’ll try to catch him by myself.”
“No way.” Callie had already lowered herself beside Daisy and put a treat on her hand. She reached it out to the opening and cooed, “Here, boy.”
“His name is Biscuit.”
“Here, Biscuit. Hey, good boy. Come and have a little look. Here’s a treat for you. Yes, a nice little treat. Oh, look, Daisy wants it too. If you don’t show yourself, she’s going to get it.”
“As if he’s going to care.” Still Falk leaned forward, his posture tight, like he expected the dog to suddenly burst from his hiding place and make a run for it.
Callie ignored his tension and continued, “That’s a good boy. You can’t stay here. It’s getting darker and colder. You have to come with us. Yes, good boy.”
Callie unconsciously lowered her voice when she saw something move and a snout peeked out a moment, only to be retracted again.
“Good boy. You come get your treat.” She moved her hand back a little. “They have an excellent sense of smell,” she said to Falk. “He seems curious too. Maybe he’s not afraid anymore and was just running because he didn’t know where his people had gone to.”
The snout appeared again, sniffing, taking in all of their sce
nts.
“Good boy,” Callie cooed. “Come and get it.” She moved back a little more.
Now the snout came out and part of the head, with a floppy half-hanging ear. Bright amber eyes studied her.
Callie didn’t dare speak and just moved her hand to better show the dog the treat.
He tilted his head, his nose moving. Even his eyebrows moved, as if he wasn’t sure and was assessing potential dangers.
Callie brought her hand a little closer to him. He didn’t shrink back but kept in place, every muscle tight.
“Don’t get any closer,” Falk whispered. “He’s uncertain and he might nip you.”
“I know.”
The border collie shook his head and made a low sound. Callie moved her hand up and down, not bringing it closer to him. He came out farther, still watching her with those yellowish eyes, like he couldn’t decide what to make of her.
Then his snout touched her hand, and he very carefully took the treat. She heard it break under his strong teeth.
“Good boy,” she whispered, not making any move to grab his collar. “Good boy.” The dog crouched and watched her, apparently waiting to see if any more treats were forthcoming.
“Hey.” She reached out her empty hand.
He sniffed it.
She gave him a quick brush over the side of his head. He didn’t show any signs of aggression, but instead wagged his tail. She brushed the other side of his head. Then she pulled out another treat and gave it to him.
He devoured it and sat up on his rear, barking. Callie reached out and brushed his head again, catching hold of his collar. He let her, not pulling back.
She exhaled slowly. “I counted on him being familiar with unknown people touching him, since he’s been rehomed recently and might have lived in a rescue or shelter for a while. Dogs do see different volunteers there, and … Have you got anything to put him on?”
Falk handed her a leash. Callie took it in her hand and kept talking to the dog in a friendly tone while she moved it into her other hand and brought it close to his head.
He let her clip it onto his collar without any protest.
“Good,” Falk said, with a small hint of tension still in his tone. “Now you better walk him back, in case he doesn’t like me. Some dogs have bad experiences with men and can get wild when they feel intimidated.”
Callie rose to her feet, the leash in both hands. She knew border collies were strong and swift, and she had no intention of letting smart Biscuit get away from them again.
“Some dogs also react badly to a man in uniform,” Falk said, following the proceedings with sharp interest.
“He doesn’t seem to be concerned at all. Look, he’s wagging his tail at you. Just give him a pat.”
Falk looked doubtful, but then he squatted and reached out his hand. “Hey, boy. How you doing?”
Biscuit stretched out his snout, sniffed Falk’s hand, then stepped forward and licked him on the neck. Falk tilted his head up with a huff to avoid being licked full in the face as well. “I guess he likes me,” he said ruefully, ruffling the dog’s fur.
Callie laughed softly. “I think it’s more than that.”
Falk got to his feet again. “We’d better get back to the car so I can inform the owners that their dog has been found. I doubt I’ll have very good reception down here on the beach.”
They walked back, side by side, Biscuit pulling on the leash and Daisy daring him into games by running away from them and then coming back.
At his police car, Falk put the border collie into the back seat and called the station while Callie wriggled out of his rubber boots. She was kind of sorry their time together was over so soon, but luckily the dog was found now and going to be reunited with his owners.
“I see.” Falk’s expression set. “I see. Well, you tell them anyway. They deserve to know.”
He disconnected and said to her, “It seems the wife got a terrible scare when they lost the dog. Her husband told my colleague that they might consider giving him back to the rescue. That this trip had shown them that Biscuit is not the right dog for them.”
Callie dropped the rubber boots in the trunk and closed it. Through the rear window she saw Biscuit, his ears up, his face happy and relaxed. Her heart clenched for him not understanding how the nice people who had taken him home were going to return him to the shelter.
“I guess he’ll find another home,” Falk said, the doubt thick in his voice.
“Let them think about it. Why don’t you take him for the night? In the morning they might see things in a different light.”
Falk looked at her. “You think so?”
“Like the husband said to your colleague, his wife had a shock when the dog ran away, and now she’s not sure if she can handle him. But in the morning it won’t feel the same. They’ll want to keep him—believe me. But if you drop him off with them now and he’s excited to see them and all wound up, she might feel like he really is too much. Come on, give the dog a chance to stay in his new home with his new family.”
“All right. But if he destroys anything in my cabin …”
“You don’t have things that can be destroyed. No vases with flowers, no cute little pillows. It’s dog-proof!”
Falk rolled his eyes but didn’t object anymore. Together they drove back into town.
Chapter Three
The next morning Callie awoke in the bed in her great-aunt’s spare room, where she had woken up so many times as a kid, eager for the summer day ahead. The same bright sunshine winked outside the window, and the excitement of old grabbed her right away.
She got up, hugged Daisy—who was over the moon that her human was living with her full-time now—and showered and dressed. She hesitated over whether to apply any makeup: in her job as a travel guide, it had been mandatory to look your best for the company, and she did like a brushed-up appearance. But here in Heart’s Harbor, she’d be working on her new home; taking long beach walks; helping out Iphy, behind the scenes of Book Tea, with the administration, and Callie didn’t really see a big role for makeup there. Nevertheless, she decided that a little mascara never went amiss and also dabbed just a bit of gloss on her lips.
With her hair dancing loose on her shoulders, she ran down the stairs and found her great-aunt in the kitchen. Iphy pointed at the table where a plate held buttered toast. “Still warm—I took it out of the toaster when I heard your steps on the landing. I’ve also pressed some fresh juice.”
“Delicious. This is just like a hotel.” Callie peeked over her great-aunt’s shoulder to see what she was doing at the counter. On a tray, Iphy had placed marzipan in different colors and was using a knife to cut out squares for a creation that looked like a box. Callie frowned.
Iphy glanced at her. “Can you tell what it is?”
“Not really.”
“I was afraid of that. For the Fourth festivities, I wanted to make some decorations that aren’t just fireworks or flags. So I thought about picnic baskets. But somehow it doesn’t look quite right yet. What are you up to today?”
Callie made a face. “I’ll probably have to go pick out paint and wallpaper. Not my favorite chores, to be honest. I don’t have the patience to go through a million choices. My apartment in Trenton came with its set color scheme, and I only had to throw in my own furniture.”
Iphy shook her head. “I thought you’d appreciate the chance to create your own little place.”
Callie clutched her knife a moment, about to cut up the toast. Was she really the type to enjoy choosing flowered pillows for her sofa and spending nights in a rocking chair on the porch? Wouldn’t she soon miss the bright lights of the big cities she had traveled to, sparkling company, new people? Change, challenges? What Elvira Riggs had told her about spending entire winter days alone in her cottage, translating books and sipping tea, was that cozy and comforting or just kind of claustrophobic?
Suppressing the nerves fluttering in her stomach, Callie chewed on the toast and s
wallowed it down with a big gulp of juice. “Look, getting the house ready isn’t my first concern. Your project for the Fourth is. I need to dive into the town’s history to figure out this sensational event you want. What kind of thing did you have in mind?”
Iphy started to say something, when a knock resounded at the back door. Callie sat up straighter, and Daisy barked, running after Iphy, who went to see who was there. She came back with Quinn in tow.
He was wearing a light blue shirt today and beige pants, making him look more like a real estate agent than a handyman. He leaned down to pat Daisy as he said to Callie, “All set to go digging? I thought I could come with you to the newspaper archives and have a look. That way it goes faster.”
Callie wanted to say he should be working on her cottage, but realized that as long as he hadn’t scraped off all the old wallpaper, she didn’t need to worry about new stuff. She nodded her assent. “Sure. I’m almost done with breakfast.”
Iphy protested that she was still boiling the eggs and Callie hadn’t even had coffee, but Callie was on her feet already, eager to do something and shake the melancholy and doubtful twinge inside. Working on the Fourth of July tea party would take her mind off things.
She said goodbye to Daisy, who couldn’t come to the library, and followed Quinn out the back door and around the Book Tea building onto Main Street.
The owner of the general store was just putting his ice cream sign in place while his wife organized the stands with colorful postcards, brochures on regional tourist activities, and magazines about fishing and boating. The coastal vibe was present everywhere in Heart’s Harbor.
Quinn gestured to the library. “Fortunately, it opens at eight thirty.”
“Oh, you’ve already been there?”
“Checked on it last night. I was in town to have dinner.”
“I see. Where are you staying anyway?”
“At the campgrounds. I should probably cook macaroni and cheese in a pan over the open fire, but I’m not much of a cook.”
