Lavender Beach (5 page)

“I should probably confess I’m a bit of a nerd when it comes to what I sell. For instance, I can tell you which types of trains run where and in what areas of the country, which planes were used in what war. I carry the most popular models. But I don’t get much call for the helicopters. Tell you what. Let’s look up Cobra in the catalogue from the manufacturer.” Cooper reversed direction, turning on his heel to head back to the counter with Eastlyn trailing after him.

He grabbed the fat book, about an inch thick, and flipped it open, turned to the pages dealing with historic aviation. As soon as he found the right one, he pushed the listing toward Eastlyn for her to see. “It’s pricey. And it’ll take a couple days to get here. By the way, I’m Cooper Richmond and you are Eastlyn Parker. Ina Crawford said you used to fly Black Hawks in Iraq.”

Eastlyn winced at the phrase “used to.” But since it was true, she couldn’t very well debunk some woman named Ina’s assessment of her situation.

“Used to fly Black Hawks,” she acknowledged. “My dad’s the one who flew the Cobra.”

“In Vietnam? Wow, that’s amazing.”

Eastlyn studied the photo of the ad in the catalogue, its description and its price. “I guess Kaeden’s worth fifty bucks. Go ahead and order it. I hope you ship internationally because it would be great if you could send it to Germany for me.  It’s a birthday present for my brother.”

“How soon does it need to get there?”

“Two weeks.” She grinned. “I didn’t wait til the last minute this year.”

“Let me check shipping prices and how long it takes the manufacturer to ship overseas.” Cooper went to his computer, logged into the website he needed. “By the way, if you like old choppers some of us in town recently uncovered one in a barn south of here.”

He saw her eyes light up with interest and went on, “A junk collector by the name of Cleef Atkins died last year.” He didn’t want to mention the man had been murdered.

“Nick Harris found out that in Cleef’s will he deeded the farmhouse and the land to the town. The property is filled with all kinds of odds and ends, lots of stuff just sitting there for decades collecting dust. So a few of us spent a couple weekends out there taking inventory. Imagine my surprise when I spotted the old movie marquee Thane and Isabella hoped to use to reopen the theater. But what sat behind it was even better, at least in my mind, an old helicopter with the glass bubble.”

Eastlyn moved closer, leaned on the counter for support. “You can’t be talking about the Bell H-13, that’s the military version.”

“I’m not sure. Let’s look it up, too.” Cooper shifted gears, opened up a new window on his computer and went to another website. He scanned through a lot of photos until he found the right one. “It looks similar to this.”

She stepped around the counter to peer over his shoulder to get a better look. “Unbelievable. That’s a Sioux three-seater, a single engine with a bubble canopy. It’s also known as the
MASH
helicopter. You know, the one they used on the set of the TV show. What kind of shape is it in? Do you think it could be refurbished? Are you certain this is the aircraft you saw and not some replica? Because it could be the commercial version of the same model, the Bell-47.”

Cooper smiled at her enthusiasm. “You could judge for yourself. I could take you out there Sunday. It’s the only day of the week I’m closed.”

Getting a look at an actual Sioux chopper warred with the idea of starting up anything with one of the locals. There would be talk. Even a newcomer understood that in a small town one of the notable pastimes included a certain amount of leeway for gossip.

It wouldn’t be a date, Eastlyn told herself after a few long seconds, more like an excursion to see a part of town she had yet to explore with someone who could show her the sights. “Okay. What about ten o’clock?”

“Works for me. The manufacturer will ship on Friday.” Cooper handed her a sticky note. “Write down your brother’s address for me, and an email address or phone number so I can send you the tracking information when the order ships.”

“What’s the damage?” Eastlyn asked, as she busied herself with writing down the details Cooper had requested.

He tossed out the amount as he keyed the address information into the website’s order form.

Eastlyn dug out her Visa from her jeans pocket, handed it off. While he ran the credit card, she stared at the collection of photographs on the wall. “That’s Redwood National Forest. My dad took my brother and me there the summer I turned ten. Kaeden was twelve. The three of us had such a great time on that trip exploring, camping, fishing.”

Distracted ringing up the sale, Cooper asked, “Where was your mom?”

“My mom had died of breast cancer the previous winter, January eighteenth to be exact.”

Cooper’s head snapped up. He noticed the light had gone out of her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“Me too.” Uncomfortable now, she had to think of something else to say while she waited for Cooper to finish the transaction and her receipt to be printed. “Did you go to all these places? I mean, I recognize most of them. That one there is from the Grand Canyon. That one’s fairly obvious. But then there’s the third one from the left. That’s Ireland, Leixlip in County Kildare, Castletown, if I’m not mistaken.”

Cooper gaped. “Not a single person who’s come into this store recognized that spot. Not one.”

“Oh, come on, it has centuries-old Irish castle written all over it. The whole gothic design and rolling green hills in the background wasn’t a dead giveaway?”

“I guess not.” Cooper narrowed his eyes. “You’ve been there. You’ve been to Ireland.”

“I had an Irish granny at one time and lots of cousins who call the place home. I’ve taken the tour around Leixlip a time or two just like thousands of other tourists. Funny though, my pictures never quite turned out the same way yours have, no blurry images.”

Cooper did his best to keep a straight face, but failed. “Now that’s just sad. Robert Capa would probably tell you to stand closer to your subject.”

“Capa, the guy who covered the D-Day landing at Omaha Beach?”

“One and the same. What was your favorite room there, at Castletown?”

“If you’re going for fancy then I’d have to say the red drawing room with all that damask. I mean, who uses damask on their walls anymore? But my favorite has to be the entrance hall with the brass balustrade staircase because it screams classy elegance. Wake up with that every day and you feel like you’ve stepped back into the nineteenth century. Let me guess, I bet your favorite was the little room where they kept all the maps.”  

Cooper’s eyes lit with wonder. “How did you guess that? Although I did admit to being a geek, remember? And when it comes to stuff like maps and charts, I have a hard time resisting getting to spend several hours studying all those old atlases.”

“I know the feeling. I felt that way about flying once. Oh, hell. I’m tired of looking at blank walls every night when I get home. How much do you want for the photograph? Knowing there’s an empty place on my wall, how could I possibly leave without buying it?”

“That’s what every store owner likes to hear. In my case, the photographer in me wants to help you fill up your walls.” He named his price then added, “But since you’re buying the model and have to wait for it to ship, I’ll cut you a deal on the artwork.”

“Do I get to keep the fancy frame it’s in?”

He chuckled. “Absolutely. Want me to run the charge on the same credit card?”

“Might as well. I’m splurging.”

She slid her receipt for the first purchase into the pocket of her jeans, rocked back on her heels to study him. “Even if only half of what you’ve told me about that chopper is true, I’m looking forward to seeing it for myself.”

Cooper took down the wall art, began to wrap it in brown paper for her to carry with her. “Why would I exaggerate about the condition of an old helicopter?”

“It’s been my experience that if a man’s lips are moving, I’d say the percentage is sky high that he’s embellishing the highlights.”

He laughed again, shook his head. “You need to find new men.”

“Now see, that’s the tough part,” Eastlyn noted as she tucked the package up under her arm and turned toward the door. Just before reaching for the handle, she tossed her head back and said with a wink, “You be sure to let me know where I can find one of those, will you? You’ve got my email address.”

Two

Haunted, that’s how Eastlyn felt tonight.

For the past few years she sometimes had to fight not to relive the way her father had died. Sometimes, like tonight, her lower leg hurt. Which was impossible since it wasn’t there anymore. The doctors referred to it as phantom limb syndrome. Didn’t matter what they called it. The tingling and shooting nerve pain felt real to her.

Between the blues and the aches, both gave her cause to crave the pills again.

Lying in bed, Eastlyn twitched and stirred and couldn’t get comfortable. She’d been tossing and turning for an hour. It was time to throw in the towel and give in to defeat.

She rolled over, reached for the lamp on the nightstand. Instead of picking up the novel she’d tried to read before going to bed, she crawled out from under the covers, her one foot hitting the floor. Good thing she’d earned high marks in balancing on one leg during gait training. As a former pilot, she’d embraced stellar equilibrium a long time ago.

She hoped a walk on the beach would fix her insomnia, which meant she’d need her prosthetic. She reached for a sweater first before putting on her jeans. The prosthetic came next. After buckling up the strap top and bottom and clamping it down snug over her limb, she stood up.

Her gait looked normal if one didn’t stare for too long. Since losing her lower limb she hadn’t tried to hide it. She wore dresses if the occasion called for it. Okay, maybe she didn’t go out of her way to put one on because wearing it made her prosthetic clearly visible. Sometimes it made other people uncomfortable or made them feel they needed to pay homage to it.

In warm weather, she even wore shorts like anybody else. She rarely wore high heels, though, but it wasn’t because of her prosthetic foot. She’d never been into Louboutins or Jimmy Choos—too fancy for her taste even before when she had two perfectly good feet.

After tying the laces on her tennis shoes, she headed into the living room. Grabbing her jacket for the chilly April evening outside, she looked forward to the three-block walk to the beach.

She loved nights like this when the stars glinted overhead like diamonds poised to rain down in glittering clusters. The decorated night sky made the air pop like crystal glass.

She made her way down Crescent, crossed Ocean Street, and found the stairs down to the stretch of rocky shoreline. High tide told her it might be difficult to walk in the dark so she found one of the large boulders near the pier where she could sit and clear her mind.

It hit her then. She needed to have her head examined. What had she been thinking to blow so much money on a picture of an Irish landmark much like one she had taken herself some years back? If only she could remember where exactly that photo was now. Probably buried in the storage unit she paid for every month back in Bakersfield with the rest of her junk.

If she kept squandering her cash on stupid stuff she’d never save enough to buy her own place.

And agreeing to go see the old helicopter with the hunky Cooper? Another stupid move on her part.

“Why do you always question yourself like this?” Scott asked from his spot near the end of the wooden pylons as the water swirled around his legs.

Eastlyn jumped at the voice. “What the hell? You scared the crap out of me. Warn a person next time you’re in the vicinity. Make some noise or something so I’ll know you’re there before sneaking up on me in the dark.”

“Sorry. It’s a nice night for being under the stars.”

“Aren’t you poetic? You look familiar.” She tilted her head to study the man and decided the friendly approach was best, so she introduced herself. “Now it’s your turn.”

“You don’t know who I am?”

“Should I? Oh wait. You’re the guy I saw staying out at Promise Cove the same time I was there. Are you new in town, too?”

“Not exactly.”

Alarm bells started to go off. How did he get in the water if the crunch of rocks on shore didn’t alert her to his walking around? She’d heard no splash or splatter, just the hard waves battling the boulders.

It hit her then that she was sitting in the dark with a total stranger in close proximity who appeared to have an agenda. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. “It’s a little late to play twenty questions.”

“I’m Scott Phillips.”

“I’ve heard that name,” Eastlyn admitted, wrinkling her brow in thought. Her shoulders relaxed a little. “There’s a Phillips Park over on Main. One of your relatives?”

“Not exactly.”

“Are you always this mysterious, Scott Phillips? Do you always wander around town in the middle of the night?”