by Barbara Lohr
Anger tightened Kate’s throat. “I'm not changing my mind, Mercedes.”
“This isn’t up to you, Katie.”
Katie? Sure. Keep me in my place. Was Mercedes working on their mother with some crazy scheme? Kate wouldn’t be able to hold off the two of them. She knew that from experience. “We can talk about it when you get here.”
After the call ended Kate had to practice her deep breathing for a couple minutes. Didn’t work. Finally, she got out and locked the door. After all, she wanted it to be here when she came out.
But that would never happen in Gull Harbor. Kate was used to locking everything up tight. Boston habits died hard. Pressing another button, she heard the lock click open and smiled.
~~
The community room was jammed the night of the town meeting. Kate had to crawl over people to reach a middle seat in the back row. People lined the walls, voices rising in the low-ceilinged room. Up front, Cole Campbell was talking to a man who looked like he was in charge. The Gull Harbor Town Council reclined in their seats at an eight-foot table. Displays were set up in the front.
“Kate! Kate!” Chili waved from a front row. Next to her, Ignacio held an official looking roll of papers in his hand.
Business was happening tonight. What was Kate doing here? She’d come home to help her mother, but this was the Gull Harbor she knew and loved. The last outpost of sanity in her life. She perched on the metal chair.
The mayor had just called the meeting to order when Diana Palmer squeezed into the seat next to Kate. “Quite a crowd.”
“More than usual?”
“Oh, yeah. For sure.”
Tonight reminded Kate of her first years at the newspaper. In her community beat, she’d covered more meetings than she cared to remember. New parks. Dog control. Traffic signs. Pages of notes that had nothing to do with her. This gathering felt different. Personal.
The gravel rapped. “This meeting will be called to order.”
The next few minutes were filled with the details of government— reading of minutes, all stuff that made Kate yawn and papers rustle in the audience.
“Up late last night?” Diana asked in an undertone.
“Don’t I wish. Breaking my back to get my flower stand ready.” She’d been at Ignacio’s almost every day since their planning session. Her back and shoulders ached, and the smell of paint clung to her clothes.
“Can’t wait to see it.”
Ignacio was up next, whipping up the sheet covering one of the easels. “I wanted to give you an update on a new venture that will benefit everyone. Hopefully keep visitors in Gull Harbor so they don’t go farther up the road to Sawyer or Stevensville for fresh produce.”
The crowd nodded. They knew Ignacio and were receptive to the points he laid out for them.
“Great work,” one man called out when Ignacio wrapped up.
The mayor stood. “Any community enhancement is good for all of us. Cole Campbell is going to take us through another project to help Gull Harbor prepare for the future.”
Not that there was any bias on this project. The two men grinned at each other, like they golfed together once a week. Wasn’t until he smiled that Kate recognized the mayor as Billy Cramer, a total cutup in high school.
“Thanks, Bill.” Eyeing the crowd, Cole didn’t need any notes. He knew how to make any speech personal. Obviously, his debate skills had stayed with him. “As most of you know, Loretta has decided to retire, giving us an exciting opportunity to update the look of Whittaker Street.”
Update. Change. That’s what Cole was really talking about. Kate’s shoulders stiffened.
A restless shuffle rippled through the crowd. Cole whipped a sheet from an easel and flicked on a laptop. “For some time, we’ve needed an upscale hotel to accommodate tourists as well as boat owners who come into harbor.”
“Thought we already had that,” called out a man in the middle.
Bill was on his feet in a minute, chest puffed in what he no doubt thought was a mayoral stance.
Cole waved him aside. “That’s all right, Bill. Sure we do have some small hotels, Jeremy, but we’ve also had two go belly up along Lake Shore Drive. The backers were from outside the area and didn’t know the territory. Two weeks here during the summer and they dove in without a needs assessment. Do we need another outsider coming in to Gull Harbor? We need a tasteful hotel we’ll design and build ourselves. Right?”
“Damn, he’s good, isn’t he?” Diana whispered.
“Yep.” Kate assumed Diana was talking about Cole’s presentation.
As Cole held the audience’s attention, Kate marveled at how he could sound so objective, as if he were totally impartial to this project. Her cheeks burned. A three-story building would stick out like a sore thumb on their small main street of two-story buildings. What was he thinking?
When Cole finished, Bill entertained questions. That’s when it really hit the fan. Diana joined the line in front of the mic to ask a question… something about the restaurant in the hotel taking business away from Hannah’s across the street from her shop. “Hannah’s draws traffic to Hippy Chick. You put in another major restaurant, and well, I have some concerns.”
Diana wasn’t shy. Cole swatted her objections away like they were playing badminton. Hand on one hip, Diana served shots right back at him.
Kate could hardly stand it. Her head pounded. But if she joined that line of people behind the mic, she might make a fool of herself. She’d been gone for so long and didn’t know all the issues. She pressed her lips together so tight they pulsed.
Just when it seemed like everyone had said their piece, she jumped to her feet. Heck with it. She had to speak up. Diana’s brows rose as Kate stumbled over her. Hands shaking, Kate sucked in a deep breath as she took the mic and introduced herself.
“What we have in Gull Harbor is really special,” she began, hating the quaver in her voice. She took a steadying breath. “I’m visiting from Boston. You probably know that. You know my mom Alice. I grew up here.”
Some heads were nodding. She was going for the yes. Get the crowd to agree and then slide into the trickier points.
“I can tell you that Gull Harbor has something rare, a small community feel worth preserving.”
“Cold winters and high fuel bills, that’s what we’ve got,” one voice piped up.
Kate’s confidence wavered.
Cole held up a hand. “Let’s let Kate talk.”
“Thank you.” She widened her stance, aware of the paint spots on her tennis shoes. In Debate, Cole and Kate used to challenge each other during practices before competitions. Facing him felt familiar. She wanted that brash high school confidence back.
Her stomach was threatening to do an elevator dive, like when she lost her job. When her marriage broke up.
Didn’t matter. She pushed ahead, sucked in her stomach, and dove back in. “You tear down a historical building, and you can’t bring it back.”
The only sound was the whirr of the overhead fans.
Cole didn’t look pleased. “The plans for the hotel would have every modern convenience but retain that old fashioned charm.”
How strange for him to fall right into her point of differentiation. “Exactly,” she shot back. “But the people who visit Gull Harbor don’t come here for modern. They come here to escape the city. They come for old-fashioned. They come for the arched windows, etched glass, beaten tin ceilings and crown moldings. They come for what we have now.”
She was driving home her points with the parallel structure Theodore Sorenson had used writing John F. Kennedy’s speeches. They’d both studied Sorenson’s style, and now Cole paled.
Kate wasn’t finished. “They come for the plaque that says ‘Built in 1925.’”
That’s when it hit her. The historical society. Lifting her hands, she glanced around at the others in appeal. The slow boil of murmurs simmered through the crowd and grew.
“The latest features can have that appea
l, Kate.” Cole was losing them, and he knew it. The words historical and plaque were being whispered, persistent as sand gnats. A grin tickled Diana’s lips.
“Table this motion!” a man shouted. “Send it back to the Downtown Development committee.”
We have a Downtown Development Committee?
People applauded in agreement. Face hot, Kate walked back to her seat, shoulders straight and stomach shaking. She hadn’t meant to make a spectacle of herself, and embarrassing Cole in public sure hadn’t been her goal.
But someone had to say something. Maybe that person was her. Ten years back, they’d let Ned Ransom put up a cinderblock beach shop, and three stores had been demolished for that project. It still stood out like a sore thumb. She didn’t want to end up with a whole string of architectural abominations like that.
The committee agreed to send Cole’s proposal to the Downtown Development group. An update was scheduled for July. Head down, Cole shoved papers into his briefcase. She slipped out of the room before the meeting ended and dashed to Bonita. The breeze caught her hair, and excitement fired her blood. This called for action. The entire community needed to understand why bulldozing Michiana Thyme was exactly the wrong thing to do.
Flyers. Yes, flyers for every home and every place of business.
Frustrating Cole almost felt like old times.
Chapter 11
The plane was late. Sitting in the airport in South Bend, Indiana, Kate could hardly hold her head up. She took another slug of coffee. Memorial Weekend and she’d need more than caffeine to make it through three days with Mercedes.
The past week had been crazy. When she wasn't talking to her floral sources, she was helping Chili and Ignacio paint the walls or visiting her mother. She’d put her writing on the back burner, except for the flyer she pulled together after the town meeting. “Save Gull Harbor… protect history for future generations.” Mercedes would call it overly dramatic. No sense soft peddling it.
Whatever. Kate was sleeping better than she had in months.
The weather had turned warmer. Purple iris pushed through the damp earth outside Breezy Point and opened, lush and velvety. She threw open the French doors and windows to banish the stale winter smell. The gust of winds that blew through the house that day stoked Kate’s energy.
Did her restlessness have anything to do with seeing Cole Campbell so often? His truck showed up a lot at Ignacio’s, although he must have higher priority projects. She knew the sound of his pickup, the squeal of the driver’s door, and the spring of Prissy’s padded feet on the gravel. In college, Kate had studied Pavlov’s response. Every time Cole’s dark green truck pulled in, a tingling broke out in her chest like clockwork.
Crazy. How could she be disgusted with and long for something at the same time?
Waiting for her sister’s plane to land, Kate stared out the plate glass window. Dusk was falling. Her mind felt just as murky. All of the divorce self-help books said she was in a state of transition. She’d leave it at that.
Memorial Weekend and flight delays were announced with annoying regularity. Kate considered flipping up the arm rests and stretching out on the hard black vinyl cushions to snooze. Finally, Mercedes’s flight number flashed to “landed” on the Arrival and Departure board. Kate pitched her coffee cup into the trash and joined the others crowded behind the roped off area.
Within minutes, a stream of travelers burst through the doors. Lots of hugging and excited conversations. The burr of rolling luggage wheels abraded Kate’s nerves. So much depended on this visit. The two of them had to get along, never easy.
Not hard to spot Mercedes. The sleek black trench coat, dark stockings, and expensive heels set her apart as she took the hall with long strides.
“Mercedes! Over here!” Kate waved.
Her sister looked more annoyed than delighted to see her. “Feel like I've been to hell and back on these damn planes,” she mumbled, offering a cheek. A whiff of Tresor tingled in Kate's nostrils. “They route you from New York City all the way to Atlanta and then back up again. Makes absolutely no sense.”
“Where's your carry-on?”
By then, Mercedes was three steps ahead of her. “I'm not dragging around any luggage. That's what we pay the damn airlines for.”
Okay. Happy to see you too. Kate caught up with her, sandals feeling heavy. She’d be damned if she’d trail behind her sister. Did enough of that growing up.
“So how's Alice?” Mercedes always called their mother by her first name – except to her face.
Where to begin? “Think I mentioned she has a roommate.”
“When did that happen?”
“Right after I got here. I told you about it in a phone call. Marie McGraw.” Her sister often had selective memory.
Mercedes sliced her blonde bob with manicured fingernails. “Sorry, Katie. My mind is on autopilot. I appreciate everything you've done with Alice. Really I do. It's great that you can be here.”
Head down, Kate kept walking. She had to buy new sandals.
“You’re staying for a while, right?” Mercedes prodded.
“Is a bluebird blue? Of course I’m staying… for a while.” Because my life isn’t working out. You’re the successful sister.
Her sister cut her a narrow glance.
Kate sighed. She’d promised herself that even when her sister behaved like a bitch, she wouldn't be one. “Sorry, Mercedes. It's late. I'm tired. I wasn't planning on staying here all summer, but now I am.”
Thank goodness they’d reached the baggage claim where luggage was already thumping onto the conveyor belt. No ragged yarn or ugly bungee cord on her sister’s bag, only a discreet red tag on the handle. Probably to match the soles of Mercedes’ shoes. Grabbing the suitcase, Kate wrenched it from the spinning turnstile.
“I’ll take it, Katie.”
“No, you must be tired.” After yanking out the handle, Kate headed for the door. Her breath tightened like an annoying allergic response.
The night air blew cool against Kate’s cheeks when they exited the terminal and headed for the parking lot. When they reached the SUV, Kate stowed the bag in the back.
“Nice car. Blue, huh?” A frown appeared like an exclamation point between Mercedes’ eyes.
“Awesome, right?” Kate couldn’t resist. Her sister always bought black cars. “Bonita.”
“What?”
“My SUV. I named her Bonita.”
With a snort, Mercedes yanked open the passenger door. “You and your names.”
“It means pretty.” Kate slid inside. She could practically taste the cloud of Mercedes’ expensive perfume.
“I took Spanish too, Katie, remember?” Mercedes ripped out the seat belt and clicked it shut.
The three-day weekend began to feel eternal.
“How’s work?” Mercedes asked. Then the light went on. “Oh, that’s right. You lost your job.”
No I’m sorry, Kate. How do you feel? “That was a while back. I’ve been freelancing.”
“So are you going to take a vacation, a marriage break, and then go back to Boston?” Mercedes was chuckling at her own joke. “You always liked it there, all those museums.”
Kate started the engine and put it in reverse. Thank God for backup screens, although she was ready to run someone over. “I’ll be working, not vacationing. No need to get back because my marriage is, well, over.”
The bomb dropped so easily. She liked the way Mercedes’ mouth fell open.
“Wha-what?”
Ah, now she had her sister’s full attention.
“Brian and I. Over. Finito.”
Her sister was gasping like a beached fish.
Kate swallowed a chuckle. “I’m setting up a flower stall with Chili and her husband Ignacio—you remember Chili from school?”
Glancing over, she saw Mercedes’ eyes had widened. That bright green must be contacts.
“Flower stall?” You would've thought it was a bordello.
�
�Right. Where I’ll sell flowers. Part of Ignacio’s large produce establishment.” Sounded much more glamorous than the abandoned gas station.
“Well, I…” Mercedes at a loss for words? Priceless. “Oh, I suppose you need that time off. Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
Kate was having trouble keeping her eyes on the road. Selling from a stand for eight hours a day hardly seemed like “time off.” “Gull Harbor needs a vegetable stand, and everyone needs flowers.”
Okay, that sounded corny. Kate didn't care.
“Sure. Right.” Fanning out one hand, Mercedes studied her nails in the darkness. “Wish I could have had my nails done before I left, but it was so damn busy.”
Her sister was an expert on moving beyond things she didn’t want to understand.
“I'll be working at the flower stand a lot this weekend. Sorry about that. But there's nothing I can do. Memorial Day should be busy. You can drop me off at the stand, er, store in the morning and use the car. I'm sure you want to see Mom.”
“Right. Good.”
Kate glanced over. Her sister was silent, gazing at the dashboard like it held the mysteries of life. “Everything okay? Business good?”
“Fine. Great.” Mercedes turned to look out the window.
The rest of the ride was quiet. Kate snapped on some jazz and let the mellow saxophone soothe the tension in her shoulders. She didn't want to get into it with her sister. It was late. They were both tired.
When they reached Red Arrow Highway, the four-lane highway was dark and silent except for the Chicago people whipping off Highway 94, eager for a holiday weekend. Next to Kate, Mercedes sat strung tight and awake. Trees rustled overhead and the light glowed over the back door as they approached the house on the winding driveway. Thank goodness she’d left that back door light on. Darkness in Michigan could be so absolute. Kate hoped the peeling paint wasn't obvious. She wanted the house to look welcoming. Almost felt as if she were staging it for showing. That thought rankled, and Kate struggled to erase it from her mind. Mercedes had to see Breezy Point as their home, for cripes’ sake.