Last Chance Harbor (25 page)

“I like it.”

They tried out the color wheel in each of the rooms, decided on shade variants from Bermuda Lagoon to Caribbean Spray, for each space.

“Have you thought anymore about the street fair? Because around here it’s a big deal. The town voted to hold a special one last fall just to donate all the proceeds toward the school project. It was my first foray into Pelican Pointe’s dynamics. It was pretty impressive.”

Her mouth dropped open. “And no one bothered to mention this to me until now? I feel like a total idiot. I was planning on putting what I made toward remodeling my house, namely splurging on the cabinets and the new plumbing fixtures.”

“As far as I know, Nick and Murphy aren’t planning to strong-arm anyone into handing over their profits next month. They held an auction the first of the year, made a tidy sum when Logan donated one of his art pieces to a collector back East. And if we’re running really lean come summer, they’ll have a huge community sale at the church as backup.”

“But that’s not the point. I’d love to contribute. I had no idea the townspeople had gone to such great lengths to get this off the ground. I mean, I knew about the fundraisers, primarily the individual donations from Nick and Logan. But I never once thought to turn over what I made at the fair. Which makes me feel…like a miser.”

“Don’t do that.”

When the live music kicked in across the street coming from McCready’s, Ryder tilted his head to listen. “It might be a good time to test the waters.”

“A little late for that since I already sunk my life savings into this house,” she reasoned. She spread her arms out wide. “The neighbors here don’t seem to mind. If it’s noisy I’ll just have to learn to live with it. Besides, if it gets too much, the town cop is right down the street. And he and River have a child to put to bed every night.”

“Then let’s go experience some of the local flavor for ourselves, get us a beer, celebrate your new digs.”

“Now you’re talking.”

They walked across the street to the bar—more like a combination Irish pub and pool hall. They squeezed into the standing room only crowd at the counter until Ryder heard his name over the din. He turned, caught sight of Troy who motioned them over to a tiny table.

“Word has it Kinsey went into labor,” Troy yelled over the roar of guitar strings from the new band, Ninth Dog, a group of twenty-somethings who’d started playing grunge.

“Logan will be relieved,” Ryder barked out.

Julianne hooted. “I’m sure Kinsey’s a lot more relieved than he is.”

Bree came over to take their order. “Hey, how’s it going? You gotta shout it out otherwise I can’t hear ya over the band’s kicking beat.”

Eyeing Troy’s soda, Ryder shouted, “Just bring us three summer ales.”

“You got it.”

Julianne’s eyes wandered to the smidgen of a dance floor. She grabbed Ryder’s hand. “You owe me a dance.”

She saw the wall instantly go up again, heard the bristle in his tone. “I can’t dance to that.”

Her heart sank. But she refused to let him see that. She turned to Troy. “What about you?”

“Not me either.”

She shot a look at the group of women gathered between the pool tables. “Well, this is certainly a fun outing. I think I’ll go see if anyone wants to play eight-ball.”

Ryder watched as she joined a group he recognized as Drea Jennings, Abby Bonner and Donna Oden.

“What’s up with you two?” Troy asked.

“Beats the hell out of me.”

“Oh come on, she asked you to dance and you acted all snotty to her.”

“She asked you, too. I noticed you turned her down.”

“Are you nuts? I’m not dancing with your girl and getting you pissed off at me.”

Ryder chewed on that. Was Julianne his girl? Just because he wanted to get her in the sack that didn’t make her his girl. They just weren’t a good match. It was better knowing that going in than later.

The women’s laughter had Troy turning his head to watch the game in progress. “Why aren’t you over there rooting her on against Donna?”

“Because I have news for you, Julianne Dickinson is doing just fine without me.”

S
unday morning when Julianne returned to the house with her dad, she learned the town had two new citizens. Overnight, Kinsey and Logan had become parents to a boy they’d dubbed Liam and a girl they’d named Leah.

But babies coming into the world didn’t mean Julianne could go into slacker mode. The way she figured it she only had seventy-five plus days to stay on schedule, less if the only time she could devote to remodeling was Saturdays and Sundays. If she meant to move in by Memorial Day, which she did, her goal was to spend every weekend in Pelican Pointe making headway on each room, one by one. The place didn’t have to be finished by the end of May, but it did have to be livable. That’s why the kitchen along with the plumbing took priority over everything else.

For the rest of the day, they pulled out the old porcelain tile in the house—the bath tub along with the toilet. They dragged it all to the waste receptacle at the curb.

“I hope you know you’re taking on an awful lot,” John told his daughter as he wiped the sweat from his brow. “Why is it you always expect so much of yourself? I’ve never understood it. You always think you can pull off the impossible.”

“That’s because I take after my old man,” she deadpanned. “He’s done the impossible on a regular basis for as long as I’ve known him.”

“You know that boy likes you.”

“Boy? Oh. You mean Ryder.”

“He likes you otherwise no one in their right mind would volunteer to put in the work he did yesterday in his spare time. I like him.”

“Good for you. But he seems to have had a change of heart in a short amount of time. He barely said a word to me on the trip to Santa Cruz last night. If that wasn’t bad enough, when we got back to my house, I got a peck on the cheek at the door. He couldn’t get in his truck fast enough. I felt like I had the plague and he was afraid of catching it.”

“That’s odd. He was fine at the house yesterday. Although he did seem odd after you got back with the food.”

About that time John pointed to the corner of the block. When Julianne followed his trail of vision, she spotted Caleb and Drea Jennings walking their way.

“That’s two of Layne’s three kids.”

“The guy who used to live here, the one who went missing?”

“Yep. Wonder what they want.”

“I guess we’re about to find out,” John mumbled.

Julianne noted that warm smile of Drea’s must be why she was so good at retail.

“We stopped by to officially welcome our new addition to the Pelican Pointe family.”

“Thank you for that.”

“When you get closer to moving in we’d like to landscape both the front lawn and the backyard for you.”

“You’re kidding? Really? Why would you do that? I…I…don’t know what to say. Thank you. I’m…blown away by your kindness… Everyone’s been so amazing. In fact, I’d love to have you all over for an open house as soon as I get settled.”

“We think opening the school back up again is a wonderful first step to attracting young families to the area,” Caleb finally said. “It’s exactly the one thing this town needs, an influx of new blood.”

“That’s such a noble sentiment.”

But she wondered if she should mention to these two who stood in what was now her front yard what she had planned. The kids who’d lost so much—their mother, their father. Would they have any interest in seeking out a psychic, a ceremony that might shed light on what happened to their father? After seeing the sparkle in Caleb’s eyes, the smile on Drea’s face, Julianne didn’t have the heart to bring up a painful period from their past. At least not until she had more answers. All she could do was keep to her promise.

The house needed TLC. And she intended to see it get there.

All day Ryder had been MIA which was fine by Julianne. She had a house to renovate and plenty of other things on her plate. She didn’t need a sulky man giving her a hard time.

But around five o’clock River showed up with Brent in tow. In Julianne’s mind, Brent was just another impossible broody male to deal with today.

“We wanted to invite you to that get-together with Marcus and Ethan—the one that you thought was a good idea,” River explained.

“I’d rather not.”

Brent couldn’t believe his ears. “Why? You’ve been nothing but a pain in my ass since you found that damn shirt. Now that you have my attention, you’re taking a pass? Why?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a little busy at the moment,” she snapped back. “I have better things to do than stick my nose where it doesn’t belong, especially when it isn’t appreciated.”

“Since when?”

“Since I realized it pissed you off. I was only trying to suggest that a mystical approach might be just the ticket to produce at least one new clue in a twenty-year-old cold case.”

“And I’ve tried to explain that I’m doing just fine on my own without any input from a psychic,” Brent argued.

“Then why bother?”

“Because… It’s not a bad idea.”

“What! All this grumbling and you’re giving in.” She shot a look at River. “You prodded him into this, didn’t you?”

River raised a hand for peace. “Does it matter how we arrived here? The point is Marcus and Ethan might add some insight. You were the one who thought of it. Look, the meeting isn’t until Tuesday night. If you’re able to come, we’d love to have you.”

“Fine. Where?”

“Ethan’s place over on Landings Bay. Their house is bigger and will accommodate more people.”

“Okay, I’ll see you then.”

After they left, she still wasn’t convinced she’d go.

John had been listening from the other room and came out into the hallway to add his two cents. “Getting involved in a decades-old mystery is coming at a bad time for you.”

“You’re telling me.”

“But what’s really eating at you is that Ryder didn’t show up today. Admit it.”

“That’s just it, Pop. I have no idea what I did to scare him off.”

“Go ask him.”

“No way. He’s the one who acted like an ass. He ought to be the one to make things right.”

Ryder spent his
Sunday in a foul mood, bitching at other people. He yelled at Marty about leaving his tools out. He wrote up one of the field hands for being late without listening to the reason. He took advantage of his bad disposition to fire off a scathing email to his private investigator for lack of results.

When his cell phone rang, he picked it up, found he was disappointed to see it wasn’t Julianne’s number on the display. Instead, he saw a Philly area code.

“Hi Mom.”

“Does my wayward son ever think to call his mother?”

“Sorry, I’ve been busy.”

“Too busy to tell me you’re alive and well? It takes five minutes to let me know, twenty seconds to compose a text. Ryder Shane McLachlan, do I have to come out West and check on you? Because I will.”

Chastised, he caught her up with his work schedule and the goings-on in small town versus the big city. But he didn’t mention anything about Julianne.