Lavender Beach (17 page)

Plus, she had a dinner guest coming. Tonight Cooper was headed to her house for a home cooked meal, which meant she’d have to go to the market.

As she indulged in a third cup of coffee, she decided it was time to touch base with Durke’s parents back in Bakersfield. She’d known Shirleen and Dale Novack for more than two decades. She’d corresponded with them once via email while she’d been in rehab, but now she needed to do more.

Shirleen was probably wondering if Eastlyn had fallen off the face of the earth right along with Durke.

Eastlyn let the phone ring until Dale picked up.

“Hi, Mr. Novack, this is Eastlyn Parker. Any word at all from Durke?”

“Not a thing. We’re worried sick. It’s not like him to do this. You know Durke would never let his mother worry herself sick like this.”

“I do know that. Durke’s always been one to call his mom.”

“The local cops say there’s been no activity on his credit cards, no ATM withdrawals. Shirleen and I watch our share of crime shows. Even we know that’s not a good sign. We’re worried, Eastlyn.”

“Look, I know you guys are going out of your mind. But remember, Durke is smart and savvy. He also knows Kern County like the back of his hand. If he went on the run for any reason at all, he has a plan. I feel it in my heart he’ll turn up.”

“Thanks for that. I hope you’re right. I hope you have a few minutes because Shirleen wants to talk to you.”

“Sure. I’ll try to keep her mind from…” Eastlyn’s voice trailed off. She sighed into the phone. “Okay, I know that’s impossible, but I’ll do my best to put her mind at ease.”

Later, as Eastlyn walked through the produce section at Murphy’s Market, she had to admit her attempt had failed. Shirleen had started crying halfway through their conversation, which had caused Eastlyn to tear up as well. The whole phone call had ended up an emotional rollercoaster along with a stroll down memory lane. In the absence of her own mother, Shirleen had played a key role during the teen years, giving Eastlyn plenty of tips on applying makeup and buying clothes. 

In the process of replaying her chat with Shirleen, Eastlyn wasn’t paying attention and bumped her shopping cart into someone else’s. The woman pushing the other basket was a sleek, longhaired beauty, who brought to mind Native American royalty. Her cart was filled to the brim with groceries and kids—a sleeping infant tucked into a carrier and a little boy demanding to be set free.

Eastlyn immediately began to apologize. “I’m sorry about that. I wasn’t watching where I was going. I was a million miles away, thinking of something else.”

The woman sent her a disarming smile. “That’s okay. I’m often distracted myself. I’m River Cody, Brent’s wife.”

River scooped up the toddler before he got restless and set his feet down on the floor. The exotic eyes zeroed in on the child and she pointed a stern finger in the air. “No running off. You stay beside me or back in the cart you go.”

Eastlyn lifted a brow in surprise and introduced herself. “You’re the noted archaeologist? You look more like a model.”

River snorted with laughter. “Ah, words to inspire a woman who’s recently given birth and feels like a fat cow.”

“Not a thing wrong with the way you look. I met your husband early on.”

River slapped Eastlyn on the arm in a friendly gesture. “If it’s any consolation I tried my best to discourage Brent’s trip to Bakersfield and dissuade him from taking part in dragging you back here. But it’s difficult to derail the Scott power train whenever it gets going in one direction. Besides, we’re glad you’re in town now. And look at you, settling in, becoming a part of the community so fast.”

“Scott seems to have a hold on the people in this town,” Eastlyn grumbled. But peering at the baby softened her mood.”

“That’s Seth,” River explained.

“He’s beautiful.” Eastlyn noticed the little boy at River’s side growing bored with the conversation so she bent at the waist to the tot’s eye level. “And who are you?”

“Luke Cody. I’m four, and I go to school. My dad’s chief.”

River rubbed a hand over her son’s hair. “Luke goes to preschool three days a week at the Community Church to get him ready for kindergarten next year. Brent’s working today and I have grocery duty. We switch off chores to keep it fair. And I’m rambling. Another sign I’ve been caged up in the house too long without having another adult to talk to.”

Eastlyn stood up, grinned. “I’m not at home much but if you ever want to spend time away from the kids and Brent agrees to babysit…”

“I’d love to,” River said quickly. “Whatever it is, I’d love to do it. As long as we aren’t robbing a convenience store, I’m in. Now that I think about it, Jordan holds this ‘mother’s day out’ event once a month. The husbands are required to take the kids for an entire afternoon so we meet for lunch at Promise Cove. It’s four hours of no crying, no diaper changing or wiping snotty noses. We’d love for you to join us.”

“But I don’t have kids.”

“Doesn’t matter. Julianne McLachlan doesn’t have kids either. It’s girls only. You’ll fit in perfectly.”

“There’s Scott,” Luke announced, sticking one finger in his mouth and waving toward the dairy section. “Hi, Scott.”

“Where?” Eastlyn asked.

“Over there.” The little boy pointed to where the milk and cheese were kept. “Scott gave me a firetwuck for Cwistmas. It’s my favorite twuck.”

Eastlyn’s eyes roamed the store. Sure enough, Scott stood by the refrigerated section. “Your son actually sees Scott? Doesn’t that alarm you? Is everyone around here used to the Scott Phillips bandwagon?”

River turned to stick Seth’s pacifier back in his mouth. “Why would it alarm me? Scott isn’t malevolent or anything close, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“It’s just that…reasonable people don’t see ghosts.”

“Are you saying my son isn’t reasonable?” River teased with a glint in her eye. “Who says any of us around here fit into the reasonable column?” The archaeologist leaned in and asked in a low voice, “So you aren’t a fan of living in a real life ghost story? Understandable.”

Eastlyn resisted the urge to take a step back. “But reasonable people should be able to think on their own.”

“If only we could find reasonable people most of the time, who always do the right thing,” River cracked. “That’s the problem.”

Eastlyn wasn’t exactly sure what River meant by that. But since Scott seemed to have everyone under his spell, she tried to change the subject. “I stopped by your museum last Sunday, spent several hours getting to know the history of the Chumash. As docent, you’ve done a tremendous job there.”

“Thanks. It’s been both a dream and a nightmare rolled into one. But now that tourists and school groups are streaming through the doors, all the hard work is behind us, for the most part anyway. You say you went through the entire gallery from top to bottom? Then you should know Native Americans are big on spirit guides. It’s evident in the museum. Since you’re caught up in Scott’s role here, maybe it’s best if you think of it this way. It isn’t voodoo or witchcraft or ghostly interference. The hold Scott has stems from how he feels about his hometown. He helps people through their life choices, helps them make the right decisions. Scott’s nothing to fear. You may accept him for what he is or not. No one will force you to do either one. Scott wouldn’t want it that way.”

“You talk as though he’s a real person.”

River tilted her head to make a point. “You were a pilot, right? Pilots depend on their instruments to land or an air traffic controller telling them the best flight path to take to avoid bad weather. You’ll fare better if you think of Scott as the one who’ll make sure you have a smooth flight.”

The tiny baby boy in the infant seat began to squirm. “Uh-oh. That’s my signal to wrap this up, Seth’s getting hungry. Come by and see me and we’ll finish this Scott thing. Better still, next Saturday plan to make it to Promise Cove for lunch.”

Eastlyn stood there and watched River take off down the aisle feeling as though a Mack truck had whizzed by her doing ninety-five.

While finishing up her shopping, it occurred to Eastlyn that a scientist like River who dealt in facts could so easily believe and readily accept Scott’s existence. It made her wonder what was in the Pelican Pointe water.

Eastlyn’s idea of
throwing a meal together meant making the best use of her go-to kitchen appliance—the ever-reliable Crock-Pot. For a girl who’d lost her mother at the age of nine, she’d perfected the art of cooking the four basic food groups all in one pot. Whether it was beans, a hearty winter soup with vegetables, or a simmering stew, if it couldn’t be dumped into a slow cooker, she didn’t bother fixing it.

She’d long ago come up with creative ways to spice up taco meat and make it tasty. She even found ways to fix eggs by tossing all sorts of breakfast ingredients in and serving them up like casseroles. Her Crock-Pot acted as her source for making just about any meal edible.

Her father used to say that when he turned the corner coming in from work, he could always smell Eastlyn’s special dishes from the end of the driveway. But he never knew what was in store for him until he walked through the door.

So tonight for a sit-down supper with Cooper, she’d taken extra care to tenderize brisket, slow-roasted it all day smothered in the homemade barbeque sauce she’d created at fourteen from scratch. The meal had been a family favorite, with her dad and brother always filling their plates with seconds. That’s one reason she trusted that the food would melt in Cooper’s mouth without complaint.

From her tiny kitchen, she heard footsteps on the porch. She moved toward the door where Coop greeted her holding a huge cluster of snowy gerbera daisies mixed with plum-colored lavender. The flowers were already in a stunning turquoise-colored vase.

Like most females, her nose went straight into the blossoms. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

“No problem. Shelby told me you had a fondness for them. And the other day I saw that you’d spread out the same ones all across your stoop.”

She’d never known a man who noticed such things. “I love the color of the container. You had to know I probably wouldn’t have anything to put them in.”

“It crossed my mind. Something smells good.”

“What would you like to drink? I picked up an inexpensive bottle of red at Murphy’s. Or I have beer.”

“The red’s fine. I talked to Nick the other day. He thinks there’ll be no problem swinging the deal for the chopper.”

“Wow, that was quick. So how much are we talking about?”

Cooper tossed out an extremely low number.

“You’re kidding? This thing might really happen? I’d be the owner of my own bird.” She hooted with laughter and went over to set the flowers down in the center of the table. “Now that’s some major irony—me without my pilot’s license.”

“While making it air-worthy, you’ll deal with that little detail.”

“I should go back out there and examine it more carefully first before taking that giant step. It truly might be more of a headache than I can handle right now.”

Cooper looked puzzled. What had happened to turn her excitement into hesitation, or more like indecision? “You’re having second thoughts.”

“I’m cautious, there’s a difference.”

“No, it’s more than that.”

“Does it look like I’m rolling in dough? That I have cash to waste on what will likely be nothing more than a hobby?”

“So we’ll find a use for it. You could start a charter service, carry tourists out to sightseeing locations along the coast.”

“Doesn’t Bree Dayton already do that for Promise Cove?”

“A variation. She hauls guests back and forth to Treasure Island.”

Eastlyn began to fuss with dinner, setting the main dish out along with a huge bowl of salad. “I hope you like brisket.”

“I’m a carnivore. What’s not to like about barbeque?”

Eastlyn got down glasses, poured the wine. When she noticed he was still standing in her little living room, she said, “Go ahead and take a seat. I don’t bite.”

“That’s a shame. I bet I could sweet-talk you into changing your mind.”

She actually blushed and tried to maintain a measure of poise and control. “I don’t usually need much coaxing,” she fired back.

“That’s good to know,” he said with a grin, taking his first bite of tasty beef. “This is good.”

Feeling as though she’d regained the balance of power, she went on, “I bumped into River Cody at the market today. Believe it or not, her little boy actually spotted Scott hanging around the dairy section, which led us into an interesting conversation. River’s premise is that Scott acts as a spirit guide for the whole town, or at least those who believe in such things.”

“That’s not far from the truth. Throughout various cultures people have believed in protectors of sorts, like the gatekeeper whose role is to drive away evil spirits. Then there are the message bearers. Think of them in the same vein as the three wise men. Then you have the Native American shamans, who act as the spiritual backbone of the tribe. The monks of olden times were thought of in much the same way. The Irish believed in the fairies, the magical creatures that spread merriment and joy wherever they went. As you can see, Scott is a little bit of all of those things.”