Far Harbor (4 page)

“Wouldn’t have taken you so long if you hadn’t been so damn slow.”

“If I was slow it was because I spent the first two weeks shaking like a leaf from my newly discovered fear of heights. I got more paint on me than I managed to get on the lighthouse.”

“Mebbe I should have you paint it again.” Henry waved a faintly palsied hand toward Savannah. “Since this little gal thinks it’s a bit run-down.”

“More than a bit,” Savannah corrected.

The way she tossed up her chin and stood up to a man who’d elevated the knack of being irritating to an art form had Dan suspecting that Savannah may have toughened up a bit since having been elected Miss Congeniality of her senior class.

“Girl’s got a funny way of charming me into selling the place,” Henry complained. Having come to know his irascible client well, Dan realized that the old codger was actually enjoying himself.

“I’m making you an offer for the lighthouse.” Savannah’s clipped tone revealed her growing frustration. “I’m not asking to become your new best friend.”

He cackled at that. “Gal’s got spunk, O’Halloran.”

“Seems to.” Dan nodded. “Perhaps even enough to save the place from a wrecking ball.”

Henry’s pale blue eyes narrowed. “That’s your job.”

“Fending off developers is my job. Replacing the wiring, reglazing the windows, sweeping spiders out of the corners, and chasing bats out of the attic is beyond the call of lawyerly duty.”

“Bats?” Savannah’s incredible green eyes widened. “Please tell me you’re not serious.”

“Now you’ve done it, O’Halloran,” Henry spat out. “Probably caused the price to drop another ten thousand bucks. Ten thousand I should take out of your fee.”

Dan refrained from responding that Henry would have to pay him first before he could go deducting anything. Old man Hyatt was not only Dan’s most irascible client, he was also the most time-consuming of his pro bono cases.

“Now there’s an idea,” he murmured.

“Actually, bats may be a plus,” Lilith offered in her usual blithe way. “Since they eat insects.”

“Anyone knows about bats, it should be you,” Henry barked on a laugh roughened by old age and years of tobacco smoke. “Seein’ how your own mother has a few in her belfry these days.”

“My grandmother served this community for fifty years,” Savannah reminded Henry in a flash of very un-Savannah-like anger. Dan resisted the urge to applaud. “Which undoubtedly means that she’s treated you.”

“From time to time, mebbe,” Henry muttered. “It’s hard to recollect.”

“I seem to recall Mother mentioning a case of pneumonia that nearly proved fatal because you were too stubborn to seek medical help,” Lilith interjected. “Why, if Gerald Lawson hadn’t stopped by that day to collect for the newspaper and called Mother, who, by the way, came out in a blizzard to care for you, you might not be here today, Henry.”

Lilith’s own flare of heat suggested she was on the verge of losing her temper. A woman of strong emotions, she’d advised Dan after his sister’s funeral that holding in one’s feelings was unhealthy for mind, spirit, and body. Months later, apparently practicing what she preached, she’d been arresting for dancing nude in Olympic National Park and ripping up Cooper Ryan’s citation book.

That little display of unbridled emotion had gotten her hauled into the park jail, but displaying a seemingly lifelong ability to land on her feet, a month later she’d become Mrs. Cooper Ryan. If there was any more nude dancing going on, Lilith was staying out of public parks and restricting her audience to her new husband.

“Only God can decide whether or not a body’s gonna live or die,” Henry argued. He raked his fingers through snow white hair as wispy as dandelion fluff. “Though I reckon Ida may have had a hand in the outcome,” he tacked on reluctantly.

Dan decided that it was time to move things along. “Well, now that we’ve got all that settled, what would everyone say to getting down to discussing what brought us here today?” he asked with forced enthusiasm.

“Might as well,” Henry muttered in a way that suggested since neither Lindstrom woman had turned out to be a pushover, there was no point in baiting them any further. He hooked his cane over the wooden arm of his chair, folded his arms, set his face, and looked straight at Savannah. “You want the place, here’s what you’d better be prepared to pay.”

The price was at least twice what the property was worth.

“That’s a bit more than I’d planned.” Dan admired the way Savannah kept her voice calm even as the outrageously inflated price caused the color to drain from her face.

“After all,” she said, obviously mustering strength, “as I mentioned before, according to the inspector who examined the property, there’s a great deal of work to be done to even bring the lighthouse up to code.”

She opened a manila envelope, pulled out some papers, and held them toward Henry. When he refused to take them, she placed the papers on the pine coffee table between them.

“That cost doesn’t even factor in what it will take to make it livable.” She countered with a price half what he’d stated.

“Some high-flying resort company from down in your old neck of the woods offered a helluva lot more than that.”

“I have no doubt they did. Having worked for a number of resorts, and knowing how they operate, I also suspect that the first thing they’d do is raze the house.”

Henry held his ground. “Can’t see why they’d want to do that. Wouldn’t be much market for a Far Harbor lighthouse resort without the keeper’s house.”

“It’s not that large,” she pointed out. “If the new owners tore it down, they could construct one of those huge redwood and cedar resorts that are springing up all along the coast.”

She’d obviously done her homework; as Henry’s attorney, Dan knew that International Timeshare Resorts had indeed suggested a plan to tear down both houses.

“Of course, they might decide to keep the lighthouse,” she allowed. “After all, they could always use it to sell fake scrimshaw, miniature totem poles, and CDs of whale songs to tourists.”

“No jackass is going to be selling fake scrimshaw made in Taiwan or Tijuana outta my lighthouse,” Henry warned.

“I’d hate to see that as well,” Savannah replied smoothly. “But if you sell it to ITR, it won’t be your lighthouse any longer, will it?”

Henry harrumphed. “Won’t be my lighthouse if I sell it to you, either.”

“I was thinking about that on the drive over here.” Savannah reached into the folder again and pulled out a sheet of handwritten figures. “I believe I may have a solution that would suit both our purposes.”

He gave her the long, unblinking stare that Dan had gotten used to. If she was even slightly intimidated, Savannah didn’t show it.

“Well,” Henry demanded crankily, “you gonna share this idea or keep it all to yourself? I’m not a damn mind reader.”

“I was thinking we could become partners.”

“Partners?”

Savannah nodded. “That’s right.”

“Why in sam hill would I want to be partners with you?”

“Perhaps because it would allow you to retain part ownership of a home that’s been in your family for three generations. At the same time, you’ll be making a profit from the property.”

“What makes you think you can even turn a profit from that ramshackle old place?”

Dan flashed Savannah a discreet thumbs-up for having gotten Henry to agree that the property was far from livable. The only indication that she’d seen the gesture was a fleeting glint of satisfaction in her eyes—a glint that came and went so fast, Dan would have missed it if he hadn’t been watching her carefully.

“I’m very good at what I do, Mr. Hyatt. I know the hospitality business and I’ve been preparing for this all my life.” Her expression and her voice softened. “Also, quite frankly, I can’t afford not to, either financially or emotionally….

“There’s one more thing,” Savannah offered. “If we’re partners, you’ll always have a home at Far Harbor.” She glanced around the plant-filled room that, despite the staff’s attempts at cheeriness, couldn’t overcome the odor of illness and despair. “You could move out of here.”

Henry blinked. Once. Twice. A third time, reminding Dan of an old owl that used to live in the rafters of his grandparents’ barn when he was a kid.

“Place won’t be ready any time soon,” Henry pointed out. His voice had lost its usual sardonic edge. It now sounded faint and frail.

“That shouldn’t prove a problem.” The way Lilith slipped so smoothly back into the conversation made Dan realize that she and Savannah had planned this tag-team approach ahead of time. “Mother only has one foster child living with her at the moment, and as it happens, Gwen is away at science camp. Of course I’ve moved out since my marriage, which means there’s more than enough room for you at the house.”

A three-generational female tag team, Dan thought with admiration. There was no way either Savannah or Lilith would have dared volunteer such a thing without first getting Ida’s okay.

“House?” Shaggy white brows flew upward like startled pigeons. “You suggesting I stay at that crazy old woman’s house?”

“I’m going to say this one more time, Henry,” Lilith said with a swish of silk as she crossed her legs. “I do hope you’ll listen. My mother is not crazy. She can, admittedly, be eccentric. However, since it appears that your life has settled into the doldrums these days, perhaps having it shaken up a bit might not be such a bad thing.”

Henry rapped the cane on the Berber carpeting with scant, muffled effect. “My life’s just dandy the way it is, damn it.”

Not a single person in the room challenged the obvious lie.

“All right,” he surrendered finally on a wheezing huff of breath. “Since you seem so determined to buy the place, but can’t meet my asking price, I reckon I don’t have much choice but to give you a break.”

“Thank you, Mr. Hyatt.” Her eyes swimming, Savannah stood up and took both his hands in hers. “I promise you won’t regret this.”

“I’m already regretting it.” He tugged his hands free, pushed himself out of the chair with a mighty effort, and looked up at Dan. “It’s time for
Wheel of Fortune
. You take care of the paperwork, then bring it to me to sign when it’s done.”

“No problem.”

“Better not be.” Warning stated, he shuffled away.

The three of them watched him go. Finally, Savannah sighed. “I hope I never become that dried up and bitter.”

“Of course you won’t.” Lilith’s full sleeve fluttered like a brilliant butterfly’s wing as she put her arm around her daughter’s shoulder. “Despite that horrid man you made the mistake of marrying, you’re still my sweet, open-hearted little girl who used to bring home stray kittens.”

Savannah was watching Henry make his slow, painful way down the hallway. “I seem to recall you saying something about my aura being muddy these days.”

“So I did,” Lilith agreed blithely. “But it seems to be glowing again.” She looked at her younger daughter with approval. “It does my heart good to see things finally working out for you, darling. And now that we’ve got this little transaction settled, I must run.”

“I thought we’d go out and celebrate,” Savannah said.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’d dearly love to, but I only have an hour to get ready for the dance at the VFW.”

“The VFW?” Savannah was clearly surprised. And no wonder. Dan was also having trouble envisioning this former Vietnam War protestor—who’d been arrested back in the late sixties for throwing red paint on army recruiters—doing the two-step at a hangout for former military personnel. “You do realize that those initials stand for Veterans of Foreign Wars?” she asked. “Which you’re not.”

“Well, of course I’m not.” Lilith combed a slender hand through her long slide of silver hair. “But Cooper is. Since my behavior after he shipped out to Vietnam all those years ago was admittedly less than admirable, I feel I owe him this one.”

Savannah’s smile was soft and fond. “Better watch it, Mom. You’re entering the danger zone. Any moment now you might discover maturity.”

“Wouldn’t that set tongues wagging?” Lilith’s laugh reminded Dan of the silver wind chimes his mother had given him for a housewarming gift. She kissed Savannah’s cheek, then Dan’s. “Have fun, you two.”

She left in a fragrant cloud, her skirt swirling around her still-shapely calves and her hips swaying in a way that caused a host of masculine eyes to watch her leave. Dan couldn’t help chuckling when one elderly man, apparently enthralled with this voluptuous goddess who’d suddenly appeared in their midst, actually ran his wheelchair into the wall.

He exchanged a look with Savannah, who burst out laughing. Enjoying the sound that was half honey, half smoke, Dan realized that it was the first time he’d heard her reveal an iota of humor since she’d returned home.

Savannah Townsend had been the quintessential small-town girl most likely to cause boys to hold their notebooks in front of their jeans: prom queen two years in a row, pep squad all four years, yell queen her senior year. The male membership of the senior class had voted her the girl they’d most like to be stranded on a deserted island with, and she’d been equally popular with the girls. The fact that her father had been world-famous bad-boy rock guitarist Reggie Townsend hadn’t hurt her reputation, either.