He reviewed the engineering report on Cara’s property in Gig Harbor. The hillside was thick with trees and brush, and it wasn’t very steep. It was the underlying soil that concerned him. Would it split or slide? Would Cara be safe there? He didn’t want her hurt again.
Putting his preliminary sketches and floor plans of Cara’s house on the table in the sun room, Al said, “I’m not exactly sure what she wants, except she wants the house to step down the hill, with a guard tower on the top level.”
“Tower? Did she say tower?” asked Nick.
“No, but that’s the way I designed it.”
Nick pulled the drawing around to see it better.
“The garage and top level of the house is below road grade, but the property is wide enough for a gently sloping driveway. The peak of the garage roof will be about three feet above the road, with the guard tower on the left and the garage on the right, for balance. I made the tower tall enough to see over the road and the house.”
Nick smiled. “It looks like a lighthouse.”
One side of Al’s mouth curled up in a smile. “Except instead of a light at the top, it’ll be equipped with security monitors and one-way glass.”
“So nobody will know when the guard is up there. That’s good.”
“We’ll have to work with her security people on the final plan. They may not approve.”
“She’s gonna love it, Al.”
Cara walked into the room. “Love what?”
“The plans for your new house.” Nick motioned with his head. “Come look.”
Al showed her the sketch of how the finished house would look from the road and the one showing the house from the water.
“I love lighthouses, and it’s a clever way to design a guard tower,” she said with a smile. “Show me the rest.”
Al pointed as he talked. “I put your study and a sitting room with a big window seat, a fireplace, and a snack kitchen on the entry level. Each level steps out and down the hill, but the windows will look over the roof of the lower portions of the house, so you’ll almost always have a view of the water. I put four bedrooms on the middle level, and the living room, dining room, and kitchen are on the bottom level.” He glanced at Cara. “I know you have too many bedrooms to count in this house, but—”
“I don’t want another house like this, Al. Four bedrooms is plenty.”
Cara rested her hand on Nick’s shoulder and watched the interaction between him and his cousin. At only nineteen, Al was quite talented. It was evident in this plan and in the work he’d done on the apartment complex. Talent like this begged to be developed. Would he let her send him to college to study architecture? Asking him to work for Max and Company for the same number of years he went to school to pay back the investment would be one way to do it without bruising that tender Donatelli pride.
“I wasn’t sure where to put a sun room,” said Al.
“Here.” Nick pointed to the kitchen and dining area. “Wrap it around the dining room and kitchen, maybe ten or twelve feet wide.”
“Won’t that obscure the view of the water from the dining room?”
Nick glanced over his shoulder at Cara. “She’ll eat in the sun room anyway.”
She nodded.
“Switch the bedrooms around so the master is on the same side as the sun room.” Nick pointed at the plan. “Put a spiral staircase from the end of the sun room to the master bedroom or bathroom and plumb for a spa out here.” Nick pointed to the outside corner of the sun room. “Bump the wall out if you have to.”
“What if we make that corner the same shape as the lighthouse guard tower, only shorter and fatter? It would look awesome from the water.”
“Yes, it would,” said Cara. “The plan is great, Al, better than I’d dreamed it could be. I love the elevator from the main level to the kitchen. It’s perfect for bringing in groceries. And outside, we’ll have a landscape architect blend the house into the site.”
Al’s eyebrows rose. “My brother Vinnie has a landscape business in Tacoma.”
Cara laughed. “Sure, why not?” This would be a Donatelli project from start to finish.
<>
Al helped Nick with the work party at the hotel. He supervised some of the workers, showing them how to pull the carpet out without snagging their fingers on the tack strips. Nick felt proud of his youngest cousin. He’d always been the quiet one, but he often took on more responsibility than the others.
In a few hours, the hotel had been stripped of the old furniture and carpet. It was a good start. A plumber would come next week, then they’d patch the walls and paint. Some of the workers today offered to help with the other work, and Nick thought it was an excellent idea. All some of these people needed was a job, encouragement, and respect.
<>
After Nick and Cara made love that night, he told her he had to leave for awhile, but he’d come back in an instant if she needed him.
“I’ll always need you, Nick. Why don’t you stay?”
“I can’t, honey. I have things to do.” Nick had stayed in California long enough. He’d been shot at the end of April, and it was nearly July. It was time to go home and take care of business there.
He couldn’t make plans for the future until Lance was dead or behind bars. Since the authorities couldn’t seem to do the job, he’d have to do it himself. If he went back to Gig Harbor, maybe he could lure Lance there, away from Cara.
Nick refused to take any pay for the work he’d done with RASH, so Cara decided to pay him another way. She put the money he’d earned into the Max and Company account and had Gerry transfer the company to Nick’s name.
Cara told Nick what she’d done. “Max and Company belongs to you, Nick. It’s payment for the work you did for me on RASH. The company and all its assets are yours, including the boat.”
“I can’t take Max and Company, Cara. I was just helping a friend.”
“It’s a done deal. The company belongs to you.”
<>
Nick packed his things to return to Gig Harbor. Over the past eight weeks, he’d gained strength and grown more determined to do something about Lance. Cara insisted he take her plane back to Gig Harbor, and he agreed, only because he didn’t want to fight the reporters and stares at the airport.
Cara walked out to the airstrip with Nick, where they said a tearful goodbye. She cried. “I’ll come with you, Nick.”
He shook his head. “Not this time, Cara.” He didn’t want her there when Lance came. And he would come.
Walking away from Cara and listening to her cry tore at his heart. It was temporary, he told himself. They’d be together again soon. If she still wanted him by then.
As the plane lifted into the air and circled around to begin the flight north, he looked down to see Cara standing beside the airstrip, waving. Her curly hair blew around her face in the breeze, and he felt like he was leaving a big part of himself behind.
Tony picked him up at the airport in Gig Harbor and drove him to a gun shop in Tacoma so Nick could buy a small handgun. The only way to be free to build a future with Cara was to eliminate the danger, the killer she married. If the authorities wouldn’t or couldn’t take care of Michael Lance, Nick might have to do it himself. He would not allow the man to shoot at him or Cara again.
Next time, he intended to shoot back.
<>
That evening, Nick hosed down the deck and dock, and caught a flash from the hill above the beach. A man with a camera stood at the top of the steps, snapping pictures of him. Infuriated with the lack of privacy, Nick walked up the steps to face the photographer. The man’s camera clicked constantly as Nick approached him. The guy was short and fat and skuzzy looking, with greasy hair, food dripped on his shirt, and at least a two-day growth of beard.
The man finally lowered his camera. “Are you finished?” asked Nick.
The man stepped back. Nick grabbed the camera and smashed it on the ground.
“Hey, that camera cost a bundle.”
“If I ever see you hanging around here again, I’ll do the same thing to your head.” Nick leaned in close. “You got that, sleazeball?”
The man jumped in his car and sped away. Nick ground his heel into the broken camera and walked back to the boat. The last thing he needed was a photographer hanging around when Lance showed up.
<>
Lance packed his new car, one he’d stolen from a parking lot in the Marina District. He’d swapped license plates with another car to make it harder to trace. Time to leave the city before the cops caught on. With his picture in the tabloids, everybody and his uncle would be onto him soon.
He ducked out the back that night without saying a word to Jane and Ian. Jane’s shrill nagging about money was starting to get to him. He didn’t need them anymore anyway.
Donatelli was back in Gig Harbor, so he’d go there and wait until Cara showed up. And she would. She was all moony-eyed over the dumb ox, although he couldn’t see why.
<>
Cara missed Nick so much it was tearing her apart. She had to keep busy or go crazy. A guard always accompanied her to the city, as Nick and Gerry insisted, but nobody had seen Lance in weeks. She wondered if he’d left the country. Sally had stayed out of sight, too. She’d given Gerry a signed deposition for the divorce proceedings and said she’d make herself available, but Cara had no idea where she was. For all she knew, Sally and Lance were together again.
Hutch was doing a fantastic job as Ron’s replacement. Cara went into the office three days a week to spend time with him and Bart, and with Mary Margaret, of course.
After a work session in the city, Mr. Pettibone met her at the door. “Miss Andrews, Mr. Merlino called.” His eyes twinkled. “Apparently Mr. Donatelli has been charged with destruction of property and threats of bodily harm. Mr. Merlino said he would take care of those charges before he returns to California.”
“Nick threatened someone? Who?”
“A tabloid photographer. Mr. Donatelli destroyed his camera and threatened to do the same to the man’s head if he didn’t leave him alone.”
Laughter burst from her mouth. “Good for him. I’m sorry I missed it.”
“My thoughts exactly,” said Mr. Pettibone.
“Would you have lunch sent to my suite, please. I’ll call Mr. Merlino.”
“Yes, of course.”
Cara walked upstairs and kicked off her shoes. She’d been awake most of the night and was tired to the point of exhaustion, but she had to call Gerry about Nick. She started the tub running, poured in some bubble bath, and made her call.
“I’m on my way out the door, Cara,” said Gerry. “I have to bail Nick out of jail.”
“
Jail?
Why is Nick in jail?”
“That photographer again. Apparently one time wasn’t enough. He went down on the beach this time, right by the boat, and took pictures through the boat windows. Nick threw the camera into the sound, punched the guy in the face, and threw him in the water.” Gerry chuckled. “Nick warned him the first time to stay away.”
Poor Nick. “Do you need bail money?”
“No, this one’s on me.”
“Gerry, do I own the beach along there, too?”
“Yes.”
“Then he was trespassing on private property. Get Nick out of jail and charge the photographer with trespassing or whatever.”
Cara sat in her hot bubble bath, smiling at the picture in her mind of Nick throwing that photographer into the sound. She would have been there with him, but Nick had made it very clear that he didn’t want her there. It was so hard to stay in California when her heart was with Nick in Gig Harbor.
<>
Nick was still angry when Gerry bailed him out of jail. The guy with the camera wouldn’t stay away. He came right up to the boat and pointed that damn camera through the window. All Nick had done was defend his right to privacy. For that the cops arrested him for assault. He should have taken the photographer out on the boat before dumping him in the water. That way the creep wouldn’t be able to charge anyone with anything. He would have drowned or died of hypothermia.
Gerry dropped him off at the beach road and Nick walked down the stairs toward the boat. His eyes avoided the scarred, blackened spot that used to be his house. His chest hurt every time he thought of all he’d lost in that fire. Everything he owned had been in his house, and the insurance company had still not paid the claim.
Tony and Angelo would be down to help tear out those old cabins tomorrow. He didn’t want anyone around today anyway. He needed time alone to work off his anger and frustration. Being away from Cara tore a hole in his gut, but he had something to prove to himself.
He’d always wanted his own company, and now he had one. It wasn’t a gift or a handout. Cara said he’d earned the equivalent of one month of Ron’s pay and one design fee and part of the contractor’s fee, and that’s the amount she’d put into Max and Company. And then there was the boat. But the boat was a different story.
Nick glanced down the row of what used to be five cabins on the beach—Mrs. Martin’s house, three vacation cabins, and the blackened scar of his own house. The dumpster sat on the beach in front of the cabin adjacent to the collapsed Martin cabin. Cara had bought the Martin cabin, too, but the rubble from the earthquake still sat untouched. That one would have to wait until they got a bobcat in here to push it down.