Seaside Reunion (12 page)

Lindsey stared at him. “You’ve been praying that I find a new man?”

“It’s a father’s job, especially when a mother’s not there to do it.”

For a long moment, she studied him. “You never remarried after Mom died.”

He picked up his mug. “I was a lot older than you are. And I wasn’t alone. I had a wonderful daughter to love.”

“I’m not alone, either. I have a wonderful father.”

“Thank you for that.” He lifted his mug in salute. “But it’s not enough. And if you’re honest with yourself, you’ll admit that.”

Lindsey took a sip of her cooling tea, the liquid as tepid as her heart had been until Nate had walked back into her life and awakened all sorts of dormant—and troublesome—emotions.

“I do get lonely sometimes.” No harm admitting that much. “And I still miss Mark every single day.” Especially when she awakened in the predawn hours and recalled how he used to pull her close in a warm, sleepy embrace for a few minutes before he left for an early shift. She’d always hated how his side of the bed cooled after he left.

Now it was always cold. And empty.

Like her heart.

“That’s natural, honey. But so is wanting to have someone to love.”

She set her mug down and pushed it aside. “Even if I was interested in Nate—and I’m not saying I am—he’s a combat reporter, Dad. That’s a high-risk profession.”

“Doesn’t mean he’ll always be in a war zone.”

“Maybe not. But from what he’s told me, he’s been in a lot of other dangerous places, too.” She folded her hands on the table. “No, thanks. Been there, done that.”

“Life is all about risk, Lindy. You can’t let fear get in the way of living. Matter of fact, as I recall, you used to preach that to Nate. ‘Take a chance, or be scaredy-pants.’ That’s what you used to tell him.”

Lindsey furrowed her brow. “Did I really say that?”

“Yep. Has a catchy ring. I guess that’s why it stuck with me.”

She shrugged. “I’ve learned a thing or two since then. It’s more prudent to be cautious.”

“No arguments there. Not since this broken hip cramped my style.” He drained his mug and pushed himself to his feet, using the table for leverage. “But I haven’t given up gardening. I’m just a little more careful about where I step. Same’s true with love. And now I’m done playing Dr. Phil for the day.” He gestured to her empty mug. “Want some more tea?”

“I’m finished, thanks.” When he reached for it, she touched his hand. “And thanks for the advice. I’ll think about what you said.”

“Good enough. And I’ll keep praying. Join me if you want to.” With a wink, he moved back to the sink.

She watched him, a rush of affection tightening her throat. He never gave up on his quest to help restore her faith. And thanks to his pushing and prodding, she was going to church more regularly now. Sending a few more prayers heavenward. Working harder to reestablish the once-strong link she’d felt with the Lord.

In the meantime, she was glad her dad was praying for her. Because with Nate shaking the foundations of the calm, placid life she’d established after returning to Starfish Bay, she could use all the help she could get.

Bingo.

Nate squinted at the screen of his laptop, felt for the glass of lemonade Lillian had offered after she’d agreed to let him plug into the modem in her office at the Orchid, and took a sip.

He should have started with the
Sacramento Bee
instead of wasting time Googling Mark Collier and wading through a bunch of unrelated pages. He’d hit pay dirt with the first blue headline on the
Bee’s
archives page dated two and a half years earlier.

Mark Collier Memorial Fund Tops $350,000

That had to be Lindsey’s husband. How many Mark Colliers would have lived in Sacramento? But why such a publicized memorial fund? Who was this guy, anyway?

He read the first two teaser lines of text below the date.

“Contributions to the memorial fund established in the name of Sacramento police officer Mark Collier…”

Lindsey’s husband had been a police officer?

Not liking where this was heading, Nate clicked on the link to the full story and continued reading.

“…continue to arrive on an almost daily basis, according to a Police Department spokesperson, who predicted the total may exceed half a million dollars. At the direction of Mark’s widow, who authorized the establishment of the fund, college grants will be given to area students who have demonstrated high academic abilities and an interest in pursuing a career in law enforcement.

“Collier was killed two years ago when he stepped in to break up an altercation between two youths in a parking garage and found himself in the middle of a drug deal. Off duty at the time, he suffered multiple stab wounds—including one to his aorta—and bled to death at the scene. His wife was also injured in the attack.”

The sweet aftertaste of Lillian’s lemonade soured in Nate’s mouth.

Lindsey’s husband hadn’t just died, as she’d told him that first day at The Point.

He’d been murdered.

And she’d watched him die.

Nate closed his eyes and gripped the arms of the desk chair as the words he’d spewed out to her earlier replayed in his mind.

Do you know what it’s like to lay there, too stunned to move, too stunned to help, and watch someone bleed to death an arm’s reach away? Do you have any idea what it’s like to feel that helpless?

Yeah, she did.

No wonder she’d looked shell-shocked at his tirade.

No wonder she carried a gun.

Sucking in a deep breath, he found himself turning to the God he’d distanced himself from for too long.

Lord, forgive me. Let
her
forgive me.

But truth be told, he didn’t deserve forgiveness. He’d hurt a grief-stricken widow who was still recovering from her own trauma. A woman who, despite the chaotic state of her world, had upended her life yet again to return home to assist her ailing father. To tutor struggling students. And now, to launch a crusade to save a place she—and others—loved.

More evidence of her strength.

Yet today, her emotional scars had gotten the upper hand. Because an experience like that affected you for the rest of your life. He knew.

But what of her physical scars? How badly had she been injured in the attack that had killed her husband?

Opening his eyes at last, Nate searched through the remaining stories about Lindsey’s husband, looking for more information. But though he learned a lot more about Mark—he’d not only been a decorated police officer, but in his spare time he’d coached a boys’ softball team in a troubled neighborhood and served on the board of Big Brothers—Nate found no more references to Lindsey’s injuries.

“Did you get everything hooked up okay?”

At Lillian’s question from behind him, Nate blinked. Took a breath. Tilted the screen of his laptop down. She’d offered to let him use her computer, but he’d wanted no record of his search anywhere except on his own machine. He didn’t want the older woman to think he’d been prying into Lindsey’s affairs.

Even if he had been.

Swiveling in the chair, he nodded. “Yes. No problem. In fact, I’m almost finished.”

“That didn’t take long.” She cocked her head and gave him a once-over. “You know, you look a little peaked. Didn’t the lemonade agree with you?”

“It was great.” He picked up the half-empty cup to take a sip, grasping it with both hands when he discovered his fingers were trembling. “I’ll be out of your hair in a few minutes.”

“Don’t worry. I’m done for the night.” She gave him another keen perusal. “Are you sure you’re all right? Maybe you caught a chill out on The Point. I hope Lindsey’s okay.”

He shot her a puzzled look. “How did you know I was at The Point? With Lindsey?”

She chuckled. “Our mayor and her husband were driving our way on 101 for dinner and saw you and Lindsey start down the path back of the dental office. She told Genevieve. Word travels fast in Starfish Bay. You two keep stepping out together, gossip will have you paired up in no time. So a word to the wise—watch your p’s and q’s, unless there really is something going on between you two.”

Although he tried to respond to Lillian’s grin with a smile of his own, it was hard to fake good cheer. Much as he wished there
was
something going on between them, he had a sinking feeling the episode on The Point had dashed any chance of that as effectively as the sharp rocks at the base of the cliffs crushed the fragile shells carried by the waves.

“I’ll keep that in mind. But I won’t be around long, anyway.”

“More’s the pity. Genevieve thinks Lindsey’s taken a fancy to you, and I have to say I agree. I also think the feeling is mutual.”

He pivoted back toward his laptop, hoping the heat on his neck stayed below his collar. “And I think you two are jumping to too many wrong conclusions.”

“Your pink ears tell a different story. But don’t you worry, young man. Genevieve and I aren’t ones to spread rumors. Our lips are sealed. We do wish you luck, though. And now I’ll leave you to finish up.”

The door clicked shut as the older woman departed, and he once more lifted the screen of his laptop, then powered down. He’d found the information he’d been after.

Now he had to find a way to make amends.

The fate of The Point wasn’t looking rosy.

From her seat at the table in front of the room, Lindsey surveyed the town hall. Every chair had been claimed, and people were standing three deep around the perimeter. She’d been watching the faces as Louis Mattson made his presentation, and hostility had given way to receptiveness on many as he walked them through not only a preliminary design for Inn at the Point, but several examples of how Mattson Properties had integrated boutique hotels into other natural landscapes. He’d now moved on to a discussion of his very favorable projected economic impact on Starfish Bay.

She doodled on her notepad as he talked, anxious for them to get to the Q&A session. During his presentation, she’d jotted down a number of questions to supplement the ones she’d put together over the past few days. If none of the residents asked them, she intended to jump in.

“Well, that wraps up our formal remarks.” Louis Mattson took in the town council and the residents with a sweeping smile. Tall and slender, his silver hair set off by his perfectly tailored dark gray suit, the man reeked class and integrity. This wasn’t some sleazy operation that would make promises it never intended to keep. The company’s record was stellar, based on Lindsey’s research. It had won both architectural and environmental awards. There was no question in her mind that the proposed development for The Point would be tasteful.

But that still didn’t mean it was the right thing to do.

“Thank you, Mr. Mattson.” Susan adjusted her glasses and motioned toward the microphone in the middle of the center aisle between the rows of seats. “We’ll now open the meeting to questions. Please line up behind the microphone and state your name for the record.”

A third of the audience rose. Or so it seemed to Lindsey. She glanced at the mayor. Susan was frowning.

Lindsey positioned her own sheet of questions in front of her and settled back.

It was going to be a long night.

Things had not gone in Lindsey’s favor.

From his seat in the last row of the town hall, Nate watched her pinched face as Susan prepared to wrap up the meeting. During the hour Q&A session, Louis Mattson had handled himself with aplomb, deflecting hostility and antagonism with reasoned, persuasive and empathetic responses. Nate estimated he’d won over at least half of those who’d come to the meeting tonight in full opposition to the plan. Some would revert to their previous position after Mattson packed up his dog-and-pony show and went back to San Francisco, but the scale appeared to be tipping in favor of approval.

Susan rose. “Thank you all for coming. And special thanks to Mr. Mattson and his team for their excellent presentation. The motion for a citizen vote on this matter has passed, and we’ll work out the details at our next regular meeting in two weeks. You are all welcome to attend that as well. This meeting is adjourned.” She banged her gavel.

As the crowd began to mill about and the murmur of conversation swelled to a crescendo, he felt a tap on his shoulder.

“I thought I saw you over here.” Jack Callahan smiled at him as the crowd began to disperse. “You didn’t say anything about attending when we chatted at the Mercantile today. And Lindsey didn’t mention it, either.”

“It was a spur-of-the-moment decision.” Not that Lindsey would have known even if it hadn’t been. Since their traumatic parting at The Point six days ago, she’d gone out of her way to avoid him. He always saw her for a couple of minutes when he showed up at the store to work with Jarrod, but her handoffs were quick and cool. And by the time he finished with the boy, she was always gone, leaving Jack in charge. He’d taken to dropping by at odd hours, hoping to catch her, but if she’d been there, she’d spotted him through the picture window by the counter and ducked out. Nor had he run into her at The Point, though he’d made several trips out there, too.