A Misty Harbor Wedding (19 page)

“So when do you start building?” she asked. Her mind was whirling with all kinds of possibilities. Could Matt really outbid the Randall Corporation? Seemed unlikely, but she had learned a long time ago never to judge a book by its cover.

“I don't.” Matt moved his glass of wine out of the waiter's way as he set their plates down in front of them. “Thank you.”

She mustered up a smile for the young man. “Thank you. It looks delicious.” When he left, she asked Matt, “Why not?”

“Millicent, the woman who owns the property now, gave me the heads-up a couple weeks ago. A fancy hotel chain has contacted her, expressing its desire to buy the lighthouse and the twenty acres it sits on.”

She cringed.
Hotel chain!?
Holiday Inn was a hotel chain. Randall Hotels were individually built with the finest materials to fit into the surrounding area. Her father considered the words “hotel chain” blasphemy.

Matt cut into his steak with a little more force than necessary. “There is no way I can compete financially with that kind of money.”

“So your dream is gone?” She'd never considered that by building and running hotels, her father could be hurting people. That she could be hurting people. She didn't want to kill Matt's or anyone else's dream.

“No.” Matt grinned. “Not yet. Nothing has been signed and until I see bulldozers up there digging a foundation, I will continue to consider the lighthouse up for grabs.”

“Well, that's good.”
Until you find out who I am, and then you'll hate me.
With that depressing thought, she looked at her meal and suddenly lost her appetite.

 

 

Matt held Sierra close and slowly swayed to the music. He wasn't really dancing; Sierra didn't seem to be in the mood. An older couple was kicking up the dance floor and having a ball. Or to be more accurate, they were kicking up the slate patio of Cliffside Manor. It had taken him a couple tries to talk Sierra into dancing. Something seemed to be bothering her.

He leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Are you feeling okay?”

She nestled closer. “I feel fine, Matt.”

“You're not cold?” The breeze blowing in off the ocean was on the chilly side, and the outfit she was wearing left her arms bare.

Sierra's cheek was pressed against his collarbone. “In your arms? How could I be cold?”

“I like the sound of that.” Matt held her closer and turned so his back was to the wind. Something wasn't right. He could feel it. Sierra had been her normal talkative self before dinner, but afterward she had barely said a word. “You miss Austin, don't you?” He'd finally figured it out.

“I always miss Austin when he's not with me.”

He relaxed. It wasn't him. “Are you ready to go get Austin?”

“Yes.” Sierra glanced up and smiled.

He brushed his thumb over the curve of her lip. “Next time just tell me you miss him.” His mouth brushed the same path as his thumb. Since neither of their cell phones had rung during dinner, he knew Austin was fine and was probably handling the separation better than his mother. “I kind of miss the little guy myself.”

“Thank you. It's just that he's never gone over to a friend's house before.”

Matt shrugged out of his suit jacket and draped it across her shoulders. “What are you going to do when he stays for sleepovers at his friends'?”

“He's only four.” Sierra huddled in the jacket and frowned up at him.

“Tyler, Hunter, and Morgan do it all the time. They sleep over at each other's houses, my parents, Ned's, and last month I had the three of them at my place for a night.”

“That's different.”

“Why?” They started walking along a well-lit path that took them around the side of Cliffside Manor and toward the parking lot.

“Because you're family. Austin has only spent the night with me, or his father, or with Rosemary, his nanny.”

“Hasn't he ever spent the night with your father?” Matt's father spoiled the kids every chance he got. Even Jill's and Kay's parents took them overnight.

Sierra laughed. “The last time Austin spent more than five minutes alone with my father, he was trying to teach him who was on which denomination of money, and which was more valuable.”

“How old was Austin?” He held her elbow as the path became uneven.

“Two.” Sierra rolled her eyes as they reached her rental SUV.

He had no idea what to say about that one. Sierra's father sounded a little uptight to him. “My father can make a quarter magically appear from his ear.”

Sierra leaned against the car and laughed. “That's what families are supposed to have, sleepovers and magic quarters.”

He crowded her close. “Families come in all shapes and sizes, Sierra. They are all different.” He couldn't imagine being an only child, with no brothers to pound on once in a while. No brothers to lean on. “Large families have their drawbacks, magic quarters and all.”

Her smile tugged at his heart. “I imagine they do.”

“Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?”

“Three times, but who's counting?” Sierra's arms wrapped around his neck.

“Your smile is breathtaking.” He bent his head and captured her mouth.

Sierra stood on her toes and melted into his arms. His jacket slipped from her shoulders, but it was a long time before either of them noticed.

 

 

Juliet stood at the rail of the boat and felt the cold sea spray against her face. She had taken Gordon's advice and worn a windbreaker and a sweatshirt underneath. Even in August, it was darn cold out on the ocean. It was even colder barreling across the waves as if a tidal wave was about to overtake them and send them all into the abyss.

She didn't have to worry about drowning, though. She was frozen solid. She would float like an iceberg.

Juliet cringed at the sound of the poor screaming engine. The engine backfired, and a billow of black smoke filled the air behind them. Lawrence Blake was a maniac behind the wheel, or whatever was being used to steer the boat. Her hand gripped the rail tighter as they hit another wave.

“Bend your knees a little, and they will act as shock absorbers. Don't lock them.” Steven Blake joined her at the front railing.

She managed a small smile and wondered how he knew her knees were locked in terror beneath her jeans. She didn't want to become an iceberg. “Does your uncle usually go this fast?”

“Believe it or not, he's actually going slower than normal.”

She rolled her eyes behind her sunglasses and hoped he couldn't see. Lawrence was his uncle, after all. “How can you tell?”

“I asked him to, plus it's our last run of the day. There's no hurry now.” Steve leaned against the metal rail and faced the back of the boat. “I'm glad you finally decided to come. I was beginning to think I would have to go looking for you.”

“It's only Tuesday.” Juliet told herself she was only imagining Steve singling her out, but she had a feeling she was lying to herself. Steve did seem interested in her. Amazing. “You only gave me the ticket on Thursday.”

“Ah, you were playing hard to get?” Steve looked intrigued by the possibility.

She laughed. She'd never played hard to get in her life; she wouldn't know how. “What I was playing was shopkeeper, designer, and janitor.”

“I heard that Gordon's shop is now a smoke-free bookstore, with just a little area designated for tobacco products.” Steven chuckled at the idea. “How did you talk him into that one? The place usually reeks like the bottom of an ashtray.”

“I didn't talk him into anything. Gordon made up his own mind and hung the N
O
S
MOKING
signs himself.” No one had been more stunned than she, when she had walked into the shop on Friday and saw the orange and black signs.

“So you haven't been avoiding me?” Steve looked pleased.

“No, I've been busy.” The shop had been cleaned from top to bottom, the books were now arranged by subject matter, and there was even a little kids' table and chair set for the younger customers. The antique hand-knotted wool rug that was burned and singed beyond redemption had been given a proper burial in the Dumpster out back. There was still a hint of smoke in the shop, but at least she could now breathe.

By the number of customers coming in and out all day long, they had appreciated the changes too. Gordon was even complaining about having to work twice as hard now, but there had been a gleam in his eye when he had said it.

“Hold whatever thought you have that's making you smile like that.” Steve flashed her a quick smile and then pulled the portable microphone out of his windbreaker. He used his binoculars for a moment and grinned.

Steve turned on the mike. “Ladies and gentlemen”—the other passengers quieted down—“if you all would look off the port side of the boat, which is the left side”—Steve waved his arm to the sea—“we are about to pass Sammy, a harbor seal.”

Juliet stared off into the calm sea. She didn't see a seal.

“He's a little hard to see just yet, but I wanted to give everyone ample time to find a good spot if they wanted to see him.” Steve pressed in closer to her as a bunch of tourists flocked to the front of the boat. “We named him Sammy, because we're not sure if he's a Sam or a Samantha.”

Steve waved to his uncle in the wheelhouse, and there was a noticeable slowing of the boat. “Sammy likes to hang out in this part of the sea and can be spotted on most of our tours. The engines catch his attention, and he likes to stick his head out to investigate.”

Steve looked over his shoulder at the water. “The little bump in the calm water is his head, which you'll see better as we pass.”

Juliet smiled as the bump indeed turned into a seal's head. Sammy was gray with a few black markings and big black shiny eyes. The other tourists on the boat waved, yelled, and took a hundred photos. Sammy stared back with a total lack of interest.

Steve leaned in close. “What do you think he's thinking?”

“That we're the ones putting on the show, not him.”

Steve laughed. “Right you are.”

Steve turned the mike back on as Sammy was left behind and the engines once again screamed and billowed the occasional cloud of smoke. “As I said before we started, it takes awhile before we make it out to the whale feeding grounds. They are about twenty-five miles offshore. We have about another forty minutes before we reach them. Keep your eyes out for whales, even though they only rarely come in this close, but they have been known to in the past. If you have any questions, please come find me and I'll be more than happy to answer them.”

“Impressive. How many times a day do you do this?”

“Two to three times a day, every day, seven days a week.” Steve gave her a long look. “The schedule is hell on my social life.”

“I can imagine.” What would she know about having a social life? She didn't have one unless one counted parent-teacher conferences as a social event.

Steve looked as though he wanted to ask her another question, but they became surrounded by a group of giggling ten-year-old girls and a harried, green-looking mother. As Steve patiently started to answer their hundred and one questions, Juliet slid to her left and away from the group. It wouldn't be fair to the other passengers if she hogged all of Steve's time.

Thirty-five minutes later, the boat suddenly slowed down. Hurricane-force winds stopped blowing her hair and the windbreaker felt funny not being plastered to her chest. She could finally breathe normally and relax her death grip on the railing.

She heard Steve's voice come over the speaker. “We have reached the feeding grounds. This is where everyone has to help and be my eyes. I need you all to search the water for anything unusual. Sometimes you can actually see the blow, which is the water vapor being exhaled through the whales' blowholes. The whales we usually spot along here only need to breathe anywhere from five to fifteen minutes, but they can hold their breath for up to forty minutes. Sometimes they surface so fast you will see only the fin, and other times you might see their flukes, which are their tail fins, come out of the water. So you need to be quick and ready with the cameras.”

Juliet chuckled as she scanned the calm sea. Some tourist she'd make. She hadn't brought a camera.

Someone shouted on the port side of the boat, and everyone ran toward that side. She stayed where she was and gripped the railing as the boat shifted its balance. Steve's voice crackled over the loudspeakers. “Easy, it's nothing. No whale yet.”

A man by the front of the boat shouted. Twenty-five passengers stampeded toward the front as the boat slowly moved through the water.

Juliet stood by the back of the boat, casually scanning the water and enjoying the sun on her face, now that it was thawing out. She unzipped her jacket and thought about taking it off. There were seven false alarms before an actual sighting was made, far off the port side.

The boat turned in that direction as Steve, who had binoculars trained on that area, began to speak. “It's a fin whale, and a pretty big one at that.” Steve looked up at Lawrence and pointed in the direction he wanted the boat to go. “He didn't dive deep, so he'll probably be up for air in about seven minutes or so.”

Juliet joined the crowd on the port side of the boat. If they hadn't capsized yet, she didn't think her weight would tip them over the edge. Everyone grew quiet and waited.

It took eleven minutes for the fin whale to make his reappearance, but by the
oohs, ahs,
and the clicking of the cameras it had been worth the wait. She stood there in awe as the long, dark whale barely broke the water with his head. He arched his back and she had a clear view of his ridiculously little fin, considering his size, and part of his tail as he went back under. The amazing part was, he had been about forty feet away from the boat, and if she wasn't mistaken, he had been bigger than the boat.