by Kathi Daley
Beyond the covered deck was a grassy area with tables and chairs that sloped right down to the water. The grassy area was closed this evening, but I was willing to bet it was as crowded as the rest of the place on a sunny afternoon or warm summer evening.
Josie continued straight through the building, only stopping when she arrived at a circle of chairs that surrounded a real wood fire on the covered deck. She placed her hand on the shoulder of an extremely handsome man around thirty with dark hair, dark eyes, and a body that was worth a second look. “This handsome bad boy is Cooper,” she informed me. “He lives in cottage five.”
“I’m happy to meet you,” I said, hoping I didn’t appear to be as overwhelmed as I felt.
“And this,” Josie said, nodding toward the woman sitting next to Cooper, “is my roomie, Jemma.”
“You must be Ainsley,” replied the woman with straight black hair that fell to her waist. She was dressed as a nurse, but due to the figure-enhancing outfit, I assumed she was going for a naughty nurse.
“Yes,” I nodded toward her. “I am.”
“Coop runs a helicopter tour, so he keeps odd hours, but he’s a good neighbor to have since he’s around pretty often and is always willing to lend a hand should you need one,” Josie continued, “and Jemma is our resident computer nerd. She works from home, so she’s around pretty often as well. If you have problems with your internet or need something hacked into, Jemma is the one to talk to.”
“Good to know.” I grinned at both Coop and Jemma.
Josie waved at the pair and then grabbed my hand and dragged me back inside toward the second room I’d come to think of as the patio room. While the main dining area in the front of the building was warm and cozy with orange lights, smiling jack-o’-lanterns, and fake cobwebs with rubber spiders, the bar was decorated in a slightly edgier version of Halloween fun with a severed hand, life-size monsters, and what looked like blood dripping down the wall. Josie headed toward the bar, and then stopped at the end where three people were laughing and pounding back shots.
“Hey, guys, look who I found.”
“Who did you find?” a brunette with curly shoulder-length hair dressed as a flight attendant asked.
“This here is our new neighbor, Ainsley.” She turned to me. “Ainsley, this is Tegan, Booker, and Jackson. Tegan lives in cottage one and owns the Rambling Rose, Booker lives in cottage two and works at the harbor, and Jackson lives in town and works at the harbor with Booker.
I smiled. “I’m happy to meet you all.”
“I’m so happy you stopped by,” Tegan said, jumping up to wrap me in a hug. “I was going to knock on your door tomorrow and volunteer to introduce you around, but here you are, taking care of that yourself.”
“I really just stopped in for takeout, but Josie somehow knew who I was. I am very happy to meet you all.”
A woman dressed as a cat walked up to Josie. “Your takeout order is up,” she said.
“Do you want to join us?” Tegan asked. “You can eat while we drink.”
“As fun as that sounds, I’ve been driving for days and really just want to get back to the cottage and settle in. I have two dogs who are probably wondering why I dropped them off in a strange place and then left.”
Tegan’s eyes widened. “You have dogs? What kind?”
“Bernese Mountain Dogs.”
“I love dogs,” she gushed. “I can’t wait to meet them.”
“Me too,” Josie agreed. “I make a big brunch on Sundays. If you’re up early enough, come by the cottage Jemma and I share for brunch. Bring the dogs. We can all meet them.”
“Okay, I’d like that,” I found myself saying. “What time?”
“Ten o’clock.” She hugged me again. “I think we’re going to be fabulous friends.”
I had to admit that by the time I retrieved my order and returned to my car, I was feeling totally overwhelmed. My friend, Keni, was spontaneous and outgoing, but even she couldn’t compete with the gang from Gooseberry Bay. They certainly seemed close, which was nice. I hadn’t come to the area with the idea of making friends, but I did have to admit that I’d been lonely since my father died. When I’d lived in New York with Keni, our lives had been busy, and at times even over the top crazy. We had boyfriends; we had jobs; we had social lives. And then my dad had been shot in the line of duty and been forced to retire. He’d opened his own detective agency, and I’d made the decision to move back to Savannah to help him. It wasn’t a decision I regretted, but my life had changed quite a bit. Instead of spending Saturday nights club-hopping, I’d spent Saturday nights playing poker with my father and his detective friends. Even that provided a social element to my life, and the work I’d done with him had been interesting, but then he’d died, and I’d found myself alone in the world for the first time in my life.
Or at least the first time I could remember. There was still the nagging question of how I, as a child of three, had ended up alone in a burning building on Christmas Eve.
Once I returned to the peninsula and parked, Hope’s warning about having to schlep everything I purchased from the car to the cottage came to mind. I was tired and hungry, and starting to get cold, so I grabbed my takeout and my bottle of wine, and then headed toward the cottage. I figured I could unload the rest of the car after I ate. The soup was going to get cold if I didn’t eat it soon and I hadn’t had a chance to try out the microwave, so I wasn’t certain it even worked.
Someone had been by before my arrival at the cottage to lay a fire in the fireplace. All that was needed were matches, which were left lying on the dining table.
I lit a match and started the fire. I then sat down at my rickety dining table after wiping it down with a rag I’d found and eaten what really was the best clam chowder I’d ever had. Once I’d eaten, I called the dogs and headed toward the car. I figured they could walk back and forth from the car to the cottage while I unloaded my supplies, which would negate their need for a walk before bed.
Once the SUV was emptied and the items I’d purchased put away, I poured myself a second glass of wine, pulled on a heavy sweatshirt, and then headed out to the deck. There was an old Adirondack chair next to an even older looking swing. I chose the chair, slipping into it until my head tilted back to reveal the rising of the Halloween moon over the horizon. The view from the deck was breathtaking. The cottage faced east, which meant that I would be able to sit out on the deck to watch the sun rise. The peninsula had views from every direction, so once I’d settled in, I’d find a good place to watch the sun set as well.
Kai and Kallie laid down at my feet. It had been a long few weeks for them as well. They liked to ride in the car, but they weren’t used to so much travel and having different places to sleep each night. I knew that once they settled into our new home, they’d be happy here. There was forest well away from roads where they could run, water to swim in, and between the heavy tree cover and the breeze from the sea, it was unlikely to get all that hot. As I stared at the large orange moon, I thought of the friends I’d just met. I really was anxious to get to know all of them better. Taking a sip of my wine, I let it glide slowly down my throat. I’d get up early tomorrow and take the dogs for a long walk before heading to Josie and Jemma’s for brunch. I’d only been in town for a few hours and already had friends. “So, what do you think about that?” I asked, looking up into the starry sky, knowing my dad was looking down on me. “I feel good about this,” I added while staring at the moon.
Closing my eyes, I focused on the sound of gentle waves lapping onto the shore. I’d always wanted to live on the water. I couldn’t believe I was actually getting that chance. Not that I hadn’t been happy living in the other places I’d called home. My father, a single cop, brought me to live with him when I was around three. I say around three because when he adopted me, he had no idea who I was, where I’d come from, or how old I actually was.
If I stopped to think about it, my story was an odd one. It was a story I’d always
accepted as absolute truth, although recently, I’d come across enough inconsistencies that I’d been forced to stop and reconsider things.
My life with the man who’d raised me began on Christmas Eve almost twenty-five years ago. My father, a young detective, had been working on one of the first cases he’d been assigned and had been highly motivated to close the case quickly and prove his worth to his superiors. He’d picked up a lead about a suspect who’d been seen near an abandoned warehouse down by the river. Ignoring protocol, he hadn’t called for backup. When he arrived at the warehouse, it was on fire. He pulled his heavy coat over his head and went inside, where he found me, a child approximately three years in age, standing in the middle of a ring of fire, screaming my heart out. He carried me to safety, and then took me to his home where I’d lived with him until I’d gone off to college.
At least that was the story he’d told me.
I’m still not sure how it was that I never ended up in a foster home. What I do know is that there was a wide search for my identity, but one was never found. My dad told me he’d named me after his mother, who’d recently passed away after a long illness. He’d given me his last name, and somewhere along the way, we became a family. I never really missed not having a mother, grandparents, aunts, and uncles, but there were times I wished for a sibling with all my heart. Of course, Dad had been married to his work, and a wife and additional children were nowhere on his radar, but he loved me, and I loved him, so that was enough.
Opening my eyes, I looked up toward the moon, once again wishing with all my heart that my dad could share one more full moon with me. He’d been a young man, too young to die. The fact that fate had taken him from me long before I was ready to be alone created a resentment that festered and spread until I felt overwhelmed by its power.
Keni had tried to help me get my suppressed feelings under control. For the most part, she’d been successful in quelling the rage and guilt I couldn’t quite eradicate completely, but there were moments when the emotions I’d been suppressing came raging back, and I wondered how I was ever going to find the courage to move on.
And then there was the diary that had surfaced after my father’s death. The diary that would hint at the lies he’d told and the questions that had remained unanswered.
I’d come to Gooseberry Bay to find those answers, I just hoped that once I had them, I wouldn’t find myself wishing I’d left well enough alone.
Getting up, I headed into the cottage. I settled in at the dining table and logged onto my computer. I decided to look up the house on Piney Point as well as the owners of the house, Adam and Archie Winchester. Now that I had names to go with the house, it would give me a starting point for my research.
After a bit of digging, I found that the house and the land it sat on was originally owned by a man named Bram Hemingway. Bram built the house in nineteen forty-six, shortly after he was married to a woman named Anastasia. They had two daughters, Charlotte and Scarlett. Scarlett, a raven-haired beauty, married an Englishman and moved to London, where together they raised four children. As far as I could tell, Scarlett continued to live in London to this day.
Charlotte married a man named Ashton Winchester, and they raised three sons, Kingston, Conway, and Carlton. Kingston, being the eldest son, inherited the house and property. I wasn’t certain what happened to Conway and Carlton, but I jotted down their names for future reference and I wasn’t certain, at this point, what had happened to Charlotte and Ashton, but Kingston had inherited the house, so they must have passed away. That was something I’d need to verify.
When he was still a young man, Kingston married a woman named Chelsea Arlington, and they had two sons, Adam and Archie. Kingston and Chelsea died in a car accident in two thousand five. Adam, who was twenty-one at the time, took over as head of the household and guardian for Archie, who was just seventeen at the time of their parents’ death. If my math was correct, that would make Adam thirty-six, and Archie thirty-two. I remember that Hope had said that both men currently lived on the property. She hadn’t mentioned wives or offspring.
I wasn’t sure that knowing any of this would help me in my mission to identify the woman and two children in the photo, but at least I felt like I’d taken the first step in my investigation, which I’d always felt was the most important step. I supposed my next step would be to try to have a conversation with either Adam or Archie. It would be wonderful if, when I showed them the photo, they’d know right away who the woman and two young girls were and why they had been photographed on their porch. Of course, with my luck, things wouldn’t go quite that smoothly. In fact, the little voice in the back of my mind that nagged me into looking into the photo in the first place had pretty much assured me that the answers I sought were not going to be easy to find.
Once I had the history of the house mapped out, I decided to focus on the two brothers. Adam Winchester was a good-looking man in a stern and rugged sort of way. I found a photo of him that accompanied a feature story in a regional news magazine. He had dark hair, piercing gray eyes, chiseled facial features, and a serious expression. He looked to be tall and sturdily built. He wore a dark suit and was standing at an angle, but I was willing to bet the man towered well over six feet in height.
His photo had been taken at a ribbon cutting of some sort where he stood next to a man identified as his brother, Archie. While Adam was dark with somewhat of a brooding look about him, Archie had blond hair, blue eyes, and a generous wide-mouthed grin. His expression was mischievous, which was an odd quality to attribute to a photograph of a man I’d never even met, but while Adam looked bored by the entire affair and a bit irritated at being bothered, Archie had what could only be described as an expression of humor in his eyes.
According to the article that accompanied the photo, both men worked for the family foundation, which had recently opened an institute for local artists in Seattle.
Interesting, I thought to myself as I ran a finger over Adam’s intense stare and resolute features. Archie looked by far to be the more approachable of the brothers, but I felt immediately drawn to Adam.
Pulling up additional photos of the brothers, I quickly ascertained that Archie was the fun brother who traveled and spent his time at clubs and parties, while Adam was the workaholic who never seemed to smile or let his guard down. If I had to guess, Archie, the younger of the two, had a childlike quality and a natural way of navigating life, while Adam, the orphan ripped from innocence and left with too much responsibility at too young an age, had been marked by the experience.
Logging off my computer, I decided to let the dogs out one more time. Once we returned, I banked the fire, and then headed to the bedroom where I’d already changed the sheets on the tall bed I’d piled high with enough blankets and comforters to ward off the chill in even the coldest of climates. Of course, it really wasn’t all that cold this evening, so I opened the window, hoping the steady rhythm of the waves would lull me to sleep.
I felt the mattress shift as Kallie jumped up onto the bed and settled in next to me. I knew that Kai wouldn’t be far behind. At times, I’d considered teaching the dogs to sleep on the floor, thereby allowing more room in the bed for me to stretch out, but then a feeling of security would wash over me as I snuggled up with their warm bodies, and I knew that having room to actually roll over was highly overrated.
Chapter 3
The sun was shining brightly in the sky the following morning. I’d promised to meet Josie and Jemma for brunch, but I’d awakened early and had plenty of time to go for a run. After changing into dark blue running shorts with a matching running jacket covering a light blue tank, I pulled my blond hair back into a long ponytail and then dug around for my dark blue running shoes. Once I’d pulled my Nike’s out of the suitcase I’d yet to unpack, the dogs realized that a run was in their future and began to dance around.
There were trails on the peninsula that connected the five cottages to each other as well as a trail that led to a
community fire pit. There was a trail leading out to the road, which I knew would take me back into town, as well as a trail through the forest, which I’d yet to explore. Deciding on the as of yet unexplored route, the dogs and I set out at a comfortable pace. I’d been a runner since I was a child. There was a feeling of contentment that washed over me as my feet rhythmically hit the pavement, or in this case, a hard-packed dirt trail. The dogs knew the drill and settled in behind me. Kai always made certain to take up the rear, while Kallie fell in between us.
The forest was breathtaking at this time of the year. Bright green pines and firs were mixed in with the yellows, oranges, and reds from the aspens and vine maples. Ferns that had turned yellow and berry bushes whose leaves had taken on an almost purple shade fronted low-lying shrubs, which had turned a bright orangey-red.
Once we left the peninsula where the cottages were located behind, the trail narrowed, and the canopy of trees grew denser. I could still hear the waves in the distance, but as the trail wound its way up a small hill, the view of the sea disappeared altogether. Eventually, the trail opened up into a large meadow. The grass had turned brown as fall approached winter, but I imagined the area was brilliant with wildflowers in the spring. As I ran across the meadow, I found myself wondering if I’d be here next spring. Probably not. But if not here — where? I didn’t really have a reason to return to Savannah now that my father was gone, and while my best friend, Keni, hoped I’d eventually return to our lives in New York, I sort of doubted I would. I’d made friends and had enjoyed my brief trip to Maine, but something about Gooseberry Bay seemed familiar. I wasn’t sure why exactly. I’d been here less than twenty-four hours, but it already seemed as if the town was an old pair of shoes that fit just right, but had been pushed to the back of the closet and temporarily forgotten about.
Once the dogs and I reached the top of the hill, the trees thinned, and after a few minutes of heading in a northerly direction, a view of the bay opened up. I paused to look out over the expanse of water that could be seen in every direction from the top of the hilltop. The peninsula where the dogs and I currently lived, jutted out between Gooseberry Bay on the west side and the Piney Point inlet to the east. It appeared that I was now on the Piney Point side of the body of water. I suspected that if I continued down the trail, I’d eventually end up on the northernmost point where the house I’d come to find was located.