At the River’s Edge The Chesapeake Diaries (9 page)

Then again, they could look worse.

The one thing Jesse was right about was the need for an exterminator. No way was Sophie going to deal with rodents on her own. Who knew how many generations of mice had taken up residence in the walls? She wasn’t going to be the one to evict them.

One thing she hadn’t shared with her brother was that while the appliances were old, they were top quality from what she could see. With any luck, the fact that they’d sat unused for a few years might not spell doom. Those two old Vulcan ranges could have a lot of miles left on them.

“Top of the line, Vulcan is,” Thomas, the old cook at Shelby’s, often said. “Still good fifty, sixty years, if you don’t abuse them.”

Of course, who was to say the ranges at Walsh’s hadn’t been abused?

And the big refrigeration unit—she’d bet just about anything it was a True. She’d know for sure when she could see it in the light. It might need a new compressor, but there was a good chance it could be revived.

Not that she’d share any of this with her brother. At least not until she had a game plan, which right now, she did not have. She’d been honest with him about that. She wasn’t about to resign from her job without
giving it much thought. It would be a big move, to pull up stakes in Ohio and move here to start something new. She liked thinking about the possibility, but she wasn’t sure that in reality she was ready to take such a leap of faith. No, Jesse needn’t worry that she was going to pull up stakes and leave her law career in Ohio.

At least, not yet.

Chapter 7

“S
O
what’s on your agenda for today?” Jesse packed a stack of yellow pads into his briefcase, which lay open on the coffee table in his sparsely furnished living room. “Where did I put that file … must have left it up on my desk. ’Scuse me …”

He blew past his sister, who stood in the doorway trying to decide whether she had an agenda, and if not, whether she should. One of the nice things about taking time off from your job was that you didn’t have to
have
an agenda if you didn’t want one. For Sophie, a Monday morning that didn’t find her racing out the door with a twenty-pound briefcase in one hand and a pair of shoes in the other had all the makings of a good day.

“Gotta run.” Jesse reappeared, stuffed some folders into the briefcase, closed the lid, and headed for the front door. “Stop in at the office later. I should be back from court by noon.”

“Maybe,” she called after him as he closed the front door behind him.

Sophie sat on the bottom step of the staircase and contemplated the free morning—the free day—that
awaited her. The house was so quiet, she could hear herself breathe. She got up and went into the living room and turned on the television just to hear something other than the exhaling of her lungs. She flipped from one channel to the next until she hit on one of the morning shows, where a well-known, bestselling author was talking about her new book and the movie deal that had just been cemented. The conversation held Sophie’s attention for about three minutes before her mind began to wander and she started to think about what might be going on back at the office.

She pulled out her phone and sent a text to Gwen:

Miss me? What’s hot?

Sophie’s joy at having a free morning began to fade into guilt. She probably should be at work today. She shouldn’t have let her emotions force her into leaving town, tail between her legs, to hide out until the office chatter died down. There were other things she should be doing besides sitting on the arm of her brother’s sofa in his little rented house in this pretty bay town, watching morning television and wondering how to spend a Monday for which she had no plans.

Her phone alerted her to an incoming text.

Damn right. C. & A. are the talk of the office. Everyone’s appalled. Having fun?

Great
. The entire office now knew that she’d been dumped for Anita.

A. can have him. Fun abounds here. Miss you 2.

She turned off the TV and went upstairs to change out of her pj’s and robe. It was cooler this morning, so she pulled a heavy sweater over her jeans and zipped up her ankle boots. After grabbing her bag from the dresser and her jacket from the chair onto which
she’d tossed it yesterday afternoon, she ran down the front steps and into the morning air.

The walk to Charles Street was invigorating, if without destination, and she paused at the corner of Cherry and Charles, debating which way to go. The door to the coffee shop across the street opened and a small group went in. Cuppachino, the town’s coffee shop, drew the locals like a magnet every morning by seven. The best coffee in town, she recalled, so she crossed the street when the light changed and pushed open the red door.

From past visits, Sophie knew to place her order at the counter. While her coffee was being prepared, she glanced around the room. A lively discussion was taking place at the table next to the front window, and Sophie recognized several of the participants, who were too deeply engaged in their conversation to notice her arrival. She knew the white-haired woman seated with her back to the room would be Grace Sinclair, owner of the town’s only newspaper, the
St. Dennis Gazette
. The family of Grace’s late husband had built and still owned the Inn at Sinclair’s Point, the town’s most celebrated inn and destination wedding venue. Next to Grace, Steffie Wyler MacGregor leaned on the back of a chair as she chatted. Steffie was the town’s well-known ice-cream maker whose shop, One Scoop or Two, sat down near the Bay and drew visitors all year long. Next to Steffie was Brooke, and Clay Madison, Brooke’s brother, sat next to her. A woman with black hair pulled into a severe bun sat across from Clay. Sophie couldn’t hear what was being said, but it was obvious that several differences of opinion were being voiced.

The door opened and another customer came in just as Sophie’s coffee was placed on the counter.

“Hey, Sophie. Good morning.”

She turned as Jason Bowers approached the counter.

“Oh, Jason. Hi.” She opened her bag and drew out her wallet.

“I’ve got this one, Josh,” he said to the young man behind the counter.

“Oh,” she said, surprised. “You don’t have to …”

“Hey, it isn’t every morning I get to buy coffee for a beautiful woman. Especially one who appreciates the chaos of an eight-year-old’s basketball game.”

“How can I refuse when you put it that way?” She smiled up at him. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He leaned one elbow on the counter, his body half-turned in her direction. “You’re up and out early. Aren’t you supposed to be on vacation?”

“I needed some good coffee. The stuff my brother has is barely two levels above swill.”

“Best coffee anywhere, right here,” he agreed and placed his order.

Josh reached for a ceramic mug from the array that lined the shelf behind the counter.

“I need it to go,” Jason told the young man. “Sorry. I should have told you.”

“What are those mugs?” Sophie pointed to the shelf.

“Special mugs.” Josh grinned. “For our special customers.”

“How do you get to be a special customer?” she wondered aloud.

Josh grabbed several mugs and placed them on the counter so she could read the names on them.

“Bling. Book ’em. Petals and Posies,” she read aloud.

“For the regulars who have businesses in town,” Josh elaborated as he rung up Jason’s order.

“Jesse’s is the fifth one in,” Jason pointed out. “Guess he hasn’t been in yet.”

“He has court in Ballard,” Sophie told him. She turned to Josh. “Could I see Jesse Enright’s mug, please?”

He held up the mug that read
ENRIGHT & ENRIGHT
in black script on one side, and
J.C. ENRIGHT
on the other. She was tempted to reach for it, to pour her own coffee from its plain white mug into her brother’s, but felt it would have been the mug equivalent of cheating. She didn’t work for the firm, and she wasn’t a regular, though she might be this week.

Josh handed Jason his change, then showed Sophie the mug he’d returned to the shelf moments earlier:
BOWERS FOR LANDSCAPE
in green block print.

“Very nice touch,” Sophie noted.

“The mugs were the owner, Carlo’s, idea,” Josh told her. “His wife makes pottery, so every time a new business opens, she makes the owner a mug. It encourages them to become regular customers if they aren’t already.”

“Any of them ever sit unused?” she asked.

“Nope.” Josh grinned.

“Clever idea.” Sophie nodded.

“People seem to like it. Keeps ’em coming back.” Josh added, “And the coffee, of course.” He pointed to a table near the back wall and told Sophie, “Creamer, sugar, over there.”

“Right.” She picked up her coffee and moved to the table. She’d just finished adding half-and-half when she sensed Jason behind her, not touching, but there. The awareness went up her spine in a slow tickle.

“So how are you spending your vacation week?” He set his large Styrofoam cup next to her mug on the table. “Any special plans?”

“None.” She added sweetener to the coffee, then stepped out of the way to give him room, which also gave her space between herself and Jason. The man was imposing, tall and broad-shouldered, and needed the space to fix his coffee, she told herself, ignoring the fact that being close to him was causing an embarrassing albeit involuntary flush to spread from her neck clear up to her hairline.

“Everyone needs a little downtime.”

“I’m not used to downtime,” she admitted. “I feel as if I should be doing something.”

“You
are
doing something.” He turned those blue eyes on her. “You’re having a great cup of coffee on a Monday morning, maybe even sitting a while and chatting with some friends who are happy to see you.” Jason gestured toward the front of the room.

Brooke was waving to get Sophie’s attention, and the others at the table had turned to wave as well.

“Sophie! Come join us,” Brooke called.

“So, there you go. You’ve got something to do.” Jason smiled and touched the small of her back.

She felt that light, brief touch all the way to her toes. It was unexpected, but definitely not unpleasant.

“Grab a chair, Sophie.” Brooke motioned to the chairs that stood around the table behind her.

“Take mine,” Steffie told her. “I was just leaving.
Stop in at the shop while you’re in town. I’m playing with new ice-cream flavors this week.”

“Count on it.” A number of articles had been written about Steffie’s ice cream, which had been selected as Best of the Bay by several publications. Sophie never visited St. Dennis without making at least one trip to Scoop, as the locals referred to the ice-cream shop.

“Well, this is a nice surprise,” Grace Sinclair greeted her.

“It’s a nice surprise for me, too.” Sophie took the chair Steffie had vacated.

Grace nodded in the direction of the woman with the dark hair. “You’ve met Nita Perry? She owns Past Times, the antiques shop a few doors down from Bling.”

“We haven’t met, but I’ve passed by your shop several times and have admired your window displays.” Sophie smiled across the table at the antiques dealer.

“Come in next time. I’ve all sorts of wonderful things besides what you see in the windows,” Nita told her.

Drawn into conversation about how long she’d be in St. Dennis, and what she should not miss while she was there, Sophie was still aware of Jason’s presence at the table, though he and Clay stood off to the side and were involved in a quiet discussion. She’d been hoping to ask him about his plans for her grandfather’s property, but one minute he was there, just at the periphery of her vision, and the next he was leaving.

“Thanks again for the coffee,” Sophie told him.

“Anytime, Sophie. Good seeing everyone this morning.
Miss Grace.” He patted the older woman on the shoulder as he turned from the table. “Sophie. I guess I’ll see you at Logan’s school on Wednesday.”

“You will,” Brooke nodded. “Sophie just doesn’t know it yet.”

“What about Logan’s school?” Sophie tried hard not to watch as Jason left the shop and crossed the street directly in front of the window, where she had full view as he walked to his pickup.

“Science fair at Logan’s school on Wednesday. There’s a sort of meet-and-greet the teachers and cookies and punch, that sort of thing,” Brooke explained. “Logan asked me to ask you if you’d come.”

“Of course I’ll come. I imagine Jesse is going, too.” Sophie took a sip of her coffee. It was every bit as good as she remembered from her last visit. “This leaves Jesse’s stuff in the dust.”

Brooke laughed. “Tell me about it. Sometimes I wonder if he actually has taste buds. We’re hoping he’ll be able to make it on Wednesday. He said he’d try his best to be there.”

“Why wouldn’t he be?” Sophie asked. “I’d think he’d be happy to go. The annual science fair was a big thing when we were growing up. Jesse always took one of the top prizes. He loved science.”

“That’s what he told Logan. He’s just been so jammed with work lately. Most nights he’s at the office until seven or eight, and he brings work home.”