Seaside Reunion (5 page)

Her stomach knotted.

The odds weren’t looking good.

“I don’t disagree with you, Susan.” Janice folded her hands, twin furrows etching her brow. “In these economic times, we do need to consider all sources of revenue to bolster our town budget. But I’m not certain I like this idea. A resort like that,” she gestured to the easel, “is lovely, but think how it would change the dynamics of the town. And as for The Point, I like the wild beauty of it, even if we never have the funds to make it a park. It’s a tough decision.”

So Janice wasn’t gung ho on the idea, either. Maybe there was hope yet.

A hand rose at the back of the hall. Clint Nolan worked for the National Park Service and had degrees in marine biology and forestry. He’d only been in Starfish Bay for a year, but he was well respected. And he didn’t like messing with nature or taming wild places. He might be an ally, too.

“Yes, Clint?” Susan tapped her pen against the table, the staccato rhythm echoing in the mostly empty hall.

He rose. “With due respect to the reputation of Mattson Properties, I have to agree with Janice. This sort of decision requires careful consideration and a full hearing before area residents. I’d suggest you schedule a meeting where we can see a more detailed plan for the site and listen to what other citizens have to say.”

“Hear, hear.” That from one of the other residents who’d attended the meeting.

“Well.” Susan huffed and adjusted her glasses. “And here I thought this was a no-brainer. I had no idea a proposal with such obvious economic benefits to the community would be contentious.”

The representative from the developer took down the photograph and folded up the easel. “I know Mr. Mattson would be happy to come himself and present some site renderings for residents to review. And to answer questions, of course.”

“Does anyone on the council object to a special meeting?” When no one spoke, Susan sighed. “Okay. Let’s talk dates.”

Ten minutes later, after offering the developer a couple of options two weeks down the road, the meeting wrapped up.

As Lindsey gathered up her notes, Frank wandered over, obviously sensing a kindred spirit. “I’d hate to see that developer tear down the chapel and ruin The Point.”

“Me, too.”

“You think the town will go for it?”

“I hope not.”

“He’s a smooth talker, though.” The man ran his fingers through his bristly white hair. “Think I might bend the Lord’s ear a little on this one. See you around.” With a wave, he walked toward the exit.

Lindsey followed close on his heels, hoping his prayer would be heard. Through all the turmoil and changes that had come her way, the headland and the chapel had been a stable, enduring element in her life. She’d found solace there in times of sorrow, joy in times of celebration, refuge in times of fear.

Losing it would be like losing part of herself.

Again.

So as she drove home through the night, she sent a simple but fervent plea of her own heavenward.

Please, Lord, help us preserve this special place.

Nate pushed through the front door of the Mercantile, the bell jingling overhead.

“I’ll take care of it, honey.” A masculine voice came from somewhere in the back of the store.

Spying a dome-covered plate of cookies near the cash register, Nate wandered over. Not chocolate chip today. But they looked tasty—even if he’d downed a hearty breakfast at the Orchid Café less than an hour and a half ago.

A movement to his right in the far corner of the store caught his eye, and he turned. A blond-haired boy, who appeared to be about ten or eleven, sat angled slightly toward him, elbow propped on the table, chin in hand, ankles wrapped around the legs of his chair. His expression was glum.

“You’ll get it, Jarrod. I’ll work with you until you do.” Lindsey’s encouraging words were muted.

Nate eased back for a better view. She was leaning across the small table toward the boy, posture intent.

“How can I help you?”

At the question, Nate swiveled away from the tableau in the opposite corner of the store toward the gray-haired man who was limping toward him. Nate didn’t have a clear memory of Lindsey’s father, but he could see the resemblance in the strong chin and shape of the mouth.

“Mr. Callahan?”

“None other.” The older gent moved behind the counter. “Let me guess. Nathaniel Garrison. Or Nate now, so Lindsey tells me.”

“None other.”

The man chuckled and extended his hand, showing none of the wariness his daughter had exhibited on Nate’s first visit. “Welcome back to Starfish Bay. And it’s Jack. Being addressed as mister by another adult makes me feel old.”

Smiling, he returned Jack’s firm grip. “Thank you. It’s nice to be back.”

“Hey, Lindsey, look who’s here!”

At Jack’s announcement, Nate shifted toward the duo again. Lindsey turned and leaned sideways. The light spilling in from the large front window drew attention to faint, half-moon shadows beneath her eyes and a pair of vertical creases above her nose that hadn’t been there two days ago. He lifted his hand. Lindsey responded, then settled back into her chair, out of sight.

Not the warmest greeting he’d ever received.

“The sisters treating you okay at the Orchid?”

He refocused on Jack. “Like a son.”

Jack grinned and propped a hip on the stool behind the counter. “That I can believe. They like to take care of people. When I broke my hip, they were at the house twice a day, like clockwork, delivering meals until Lindsey finished up the school year and could close things down in Sacramento. Have they baked you their famous cinnamon rolls yet?”

“No.” His mouth started to water.

“They will if you stay long enough. That’ll be a sure sign you’ve been adopted. Now what can I do for you today?”

“When I asked at the Orchid about internet connections, Genevieve pointed me here.” He lifted his laptop case. “And I wouldn’t mind trying a couple of those cookies. With some coffee.” He gestured toward the dome.

“We do have Wi-Fi. Lindsey’s idea. Make yourself at home over in the coffee nook. Also her idea.” He gestured toward the far corner of the store as he eased back to his feet, grasping the edge of the counter for a moment to steady himself. “And the cookies are great. Ginger today. You’ll like them.”

Nate rested an elbow on the high, antique counter. “So what’s going on back there?” He nodded to the coffee nook.

“A tutoring session. Jarrod’s been having some problems at school, and Lindsey offered to try and help get him up to speed before the fall session starts next month. He comes three days a week.” Jack deposited the cookies in a white sack and did a one-eighty toward the large urn on the back counter. “She was a teacher, you know.”

“Yes. She told me.”

Jack looked over his shoulder. “Is that right? You two must have had quite the conversation when you showed up Monday.”

“She told me later that night. I took a walk out to The Point and ran into her.”

“Room for cream?” Jack paused, hand on the dispensing lever.

“No. I take it black.”

“I kind of figured that.” He filled it to the brim, snapped on a plastic lid and set it on the counter. “Funny. Lindsey never mentioned she’d met up with you again.”

Nate lifted one shoulder, unable to decipher the man’s expression. But it made him a little uneasy. “It was impromptu. And brief. Sad thing about the chapel.”

“Now that’s a fact.” The man sighed as he settled back on the stool, rang up Nate’s purchases and took his money. “And it might get even sadder.”

“What do you mean?”

As Lindsey’s father told him about the developer’s presentation at the town council meeting the prior night, Nate pocketed his change. “You think it will go through?”

Jack shrugged. “There’s going to be another meeting in two weeks to give the residents a chance to voice their opinions and listen to the head honcho himself. But things are tough around here. And a resort like that would bring in a lot of new business. It’ll come down to sentiment versus practicality, I’m thinking. Hard to say which way it will go. I wouldn’t mind some extra business myself, but I’d hate to lose The Point. And Lindsey’s beside herself. I heard her prowling around the house at all hours. I think she was up half the night.”

That would explain the shadows under her eyes and the creases on her brow.

“I take it she was at the meeting?”

“Had to be. She’s on the council.”

As Nate digested that latest piece of news, the jangle of the bell over the door announced the arrival of another customer. He tucked his laptop case under his arm and picked up his coffee and cookies. “Time to go to work.”

“I thought you were here on vacation.”

“Can’t escape email.” Flashing the man a smile, he headed toward the coffee nook.

And nook was the right word. Three small tables for two were tucked into the far corner beside a large picture window that offered a distant glimpse of the sea on the opposite side of the highway.

Lindsey and the boy looked up as he approached. He lifted his cup and indicated the computer under his arm. “I hear this is the spot for Wi-Fi.”

She motioned toward the two empty tables. “Help yourself.”

Nate set the cup and cookies on the one closest to the window, took a seat and pulled out his laptop. As he waited for it to boot up, he sipped the coffee and listened to the conversation a few feet away.

“Let’s try another one, Jarrod. Remember, even problems that sound complicated can be simple if you break them down into small pieces.” She positioned a piece of paper on the table so they could both see it as she read. “‘Jason and Mark went to lunch at a café. They ordered a chicken wrap for $6.50, a hamburger and French fries for $7.95, and two glasses of lemonade for $1.25 each. The tax was $1.35. They gave the waiter $20.00. How much change should they receive?’ Okay. Let’s start by adding up the wrap and the burger.”

Lindsey patiently walked Jarrod through the problem step by step, offering encouragement when he made mistakes and praise for correct answers. Impressive. She must have been some teacher.

As Nate opened the white sack and took out a cookie, Jack walked over to Lindsey. “Frank Martinez is on the line. You want to talk to him or call him back?”

“I’ll talk to him. It’s about last night’s meeting.” She rose and put another sheet of paper in front of Jarrod. “Work on this while I’m gone, okay? Break it down, like we did with the last one. I’ll be right back.”

His laptop now booted, Nate clicked on the email icon and entered his password. Fifty-one messages came up.

So much for getting away from it all.

As he set his cookie down, he glanced over at Jarrod and caught the boy watching him. The youngster’s cheeks reddened and he dipped his head over the paper, his glasses slipping down his nose. The same way Nate’s had done as a kid.

And there was another similarity, too.

The boy’s eyes held a deep, abiding sadness.

Most people probably wouldn’t notice it. They’d just see a quiet kid who kept to himself and didn’t laugh a whole lot. But problems in school didn’t make a boy look that sad. There was something deeper going on with the youngster seated a few feet away.

Nate had been there.

And it was a tough place.

The boy peeked at him again, and Nate smiled. “Hi.”

His flush rose higher, but he mumbled a response. “Hi.”

“You like cookies?”

A spark of interest flared in the boy’s eyes. “Yeah.”

“Want my other one? I’m full.” Nate held up the bag.

Jarrod regarded it. “I’m not supposed to take presents from strangers.”

“A cookie doesn’t qualify as a present. And I’m not really a stranger. I’m Lindsey’s friend.”

The boy squinted. “What does
qualify
mean?”

“It means it doesn’t count. Now a bike or an iPod or a trip to Disney World—that would qualify as a present.”

Jarrod started to reach for the bag, but jerked his hand back as Lindsey approached.

“What’s going on?” She stopped beside the table.

“I have an extra cookie.” Nate gave the bag a little shake. “I thought your student might like it.”

“Mom told me not to take presents from strangers. But he,” the boy pointed at him, “said he’s your friend. Is he?”

Lindsey darted a quick look at him, a faint flush tinting her cheeks. “I knew him when I was a little girl. It’s okay if you take the cookie. And I just saw your mom pull up.”

She hadn’t confirmed they were friends.

Nate tamped down his flicker of disappointment.

Eyeing the cookie bag, the youngster approached him.

“My name is Nate.” He handed it over. “You’re Jarrod, right?”

The boy nodded as he took the bag, crimping the top tight in his fingers.

“Enjoy that cookie, okay?”

“Okay.”

Lindsey finished collecting the papers and started toward the front door. “Let’s go meet your mom.”