Brussels. My friend Sophie had gone to school for a semester at the Free University of Brussels. “I’m in for any trip to Europe.” I said with a laugh. We each took a handle of a trunk and lifted.
With his help, a couple of near-accidents, and a few laughs, we got the trunks down two flights of stairs, out the front door—which had more steps—and loaded into Beverly’s back seat, where they barely fit.
“Thank you so much, Dr. de Wilde.” I grabbed two boxes and a roll of packing tape from the trunk, to pack the aprons and other sheets. “I literally could not have done it without you.”
“No problem,” he said. “And please, call me Lukas.” Laugh lines crinkled around his eyes. “Carrying awkward and heavy objects down steep stairs together qualifies us for friendship, does it not?”
“Yes, yes it does,” I agreed, returning his friendly gaze. “I hope I see you again during your visit. I’m Iris, by the way.”
“Iris. So good to meet you.” He shifted from one foot to the other. “Tonight I will be at the Taste O’ the Sea reception. Are you attending?”
Conflicting thoughts competed for my mental bandwidth. Was he asking me out? Surely not. But now I had to make sure Bella did go tonight, since he was attending. Hopefully her sitter wouldn’t cancel, but Grammie could sub in if so.
“I do plan on going,” I said, adding, “with Ian Stewart, my boyfriend.”
He didn’t seem to react to the mention of Ian. Bad for my ego, maybe, but good news for my friend. “I’ll see you there, then.”
The crunch of gravel announced another vehicle arriving. We turned to see a navy blue Mercedes sedan easing down the drive. As the car drew closer, I saw the driver, who had gray hair and a bulldog jaw, scowling at us. Another renter?
Never taking his beady eyes off us, the newcomer parked the car next to Beverly and climbed out. He was on the short side and stocky—squat-bodied, almost. “What are you folks doing here?” he asked, jingling his keys.
Striving to return rudeness with civility, I said, “I’m Iris Buckley, owner of Ruffles and Bows on Main Street. Maybe you’ve heard of it?”
His answer was a grunt as he focused on Lukas. “And what’s your story?”
Lukas ran a hand through his hair with a laugh. “I’m staying with Miss Brady. And you, sir?”
The front door flew open and Eleanor came trotting down the steps. “Craig. What are you doing here?”
My hackles went up. So this was the nephew, Eleanor’s only relative.
Craig pasted a smile on his flabby face as his feet crunched across the gravel. “I just came by to see how my favorite auntie is doing. Mwah!” He gave her a loud, smacking kiss on the cheek.
Eleanor scrubbed at her cheek. “I hope you weren’t bothering my friends.”
Craig glanced over his shoulder at us. “Nope. Just getting acquainted.” He slung a beefy arm around her shoulders. “Got a few things to talk about. Then I’ll get out of your hair.” Eleanor didn’t struggle as he marched her back into the house, but something about the situation made me uncomfortable.
Maybe it wasn’t any of our business, but I wasn’t going to stand by while someone took advantage of that sweet woman. Not even a relative. On impulse, I said to Lukas, “Keep an eye on her, won’t you? I don’t have a good feeling about Craig.”
The professor’s voice was a low growl. “Neither do I. You can count on me, Iris.”
CHAPTER 3
The Taste O’ the Sea reception was held in the function room at the Lighthouse Grille, a sizable space embraced by a wraparound deck overlooking the water. Tonight, double doors were open to the evening air and guests were circulating inside and out after stopping by the bar. White-jacketed staff was setting up food on buffet tables along the wall.
“White wine?” Ian asked, knowing my preference.
I smiled at my gorgeous carpenter guy, thinking he certainly cleaned up well. Oh, he definitely looked great in jeans and a tool belt, but just as yummy in an open-collar pale green button-down and white chinos. He had a light tan, a hint of scruff, and dark hair that was still slightly rumpled and damp from his shower. As I said, yum.
“I’d love a glass of wine.” As he shouldered to the bar, I looked around for my friends. Although Sophie and Bella weren’t here yet, Madison was out on the deck, leaning on the rail and chatting with an attractive man who used a lot of hand gestures.
Once Ian returned with my wine and a bottle of locally brewed ale, we walked outside to join her. The man had wandered off and was talking to a group farther down the deck. “Hey, lady,” I called as we approached. She looked great in a flowing floral summer dress and strappy sandals.
She turned with a grin and gave us one-armed hugs, since she was holding a glass of wine. “Beautiful night, isn’t it?” She turned and pointed at the cliffs across the bay, jutting rocks gilded by the sinking sun. “That’s where we’ll be tomorrow at sunrise.”
I sipped wine, ignoring a stab of trepidation. I’d made the commitment to go, so I would power through. But that didn’t mean I had to think about it too much. Changing the subject, I said, “I was out that way this afternoon. I bought the most wonderful stuff from Eleanor Brady at Shorehaven.” Where I bought things was no secret in this case, since the provenance would greatly enhance desirability. People loved aprons and linens with a history, and anything from the Gilded Age summer cottages was snapped up.
“Shorehaven?” they said in unison with almost identical expressions of interest and envy. Everyone raised in Blueberry Cove knew that house. “Tell me what it was like inside,” Madison added. “Was it amazing?”
“It was,” I said. I described some of the features of the place and told them about my purchases. At the shop that afternoon, I had researched prices, which had further reinforced what great buys I had made. “You’ve got to see the European linen sheets, Madison. They’re incredible.” As for the clothing trunk, I’d taken that home. “And I’m going to try to sell a trunk of Chanel clothes from the 1930s for her.”
“As in Coco Chanel?” Madison’s mouth was an O. “Wow. I want to see those.”
“And you shall.” I turned to the doorway, where Rich Hammond, owner of the Grille, was standing. Rich had bought the restaurant from the original owners a couple of years ago when they retired, but despite initial apprehension on the part of locals, who hated change, he’d done a good job. The Grille had been beautifully upgraded while retaining its historic charm. The menu still featured traditional seafood but he had jazzed it up with world cuisine.
“We’re about ready to begin, everyone,” he said, clapping his hands together once. “If you’d like to come inside.” As people filed past him, our jovial host slapped the men on the shoulders and offered women a cheek kiss or gentle shake, depending on how well they knew him. Madison and I got cheek kisses.
“How are you lovely ladies tonight?” he said. “We’ve got some really special items on the menu.” He lowered his voice to almost a whisper. “Seaweed.”
I felt my lip curl in disgust, but Madison said, “Awesome. Seaweed is a really hot trend.” She nudged me with an elbow. “You’re going to love it, Iris.” Madison was always trying to get me to participate in her latest health kicks, whether exercise or diet.
“I’ll stick with lobster,” I muttered. As far as I was concerned, seaweed was that slimy green and brown stuff strewn about rocks and sand on the waterfront. Stinky and best avoided underfoot.
With a grin, Ian nodded in agreement. “Although in years past, lobster was fed to pigs and prisoners. It wasn’t considered a delicacy.”
“Don’t confuse me with facts,” I said. “I love lobster.”
Inside the meeting room, a group of three men and three women hovered near the buffet table. With a lurch of surprise, I recognized Lukas among them. “Madison,” I whispered. “See that tall man with blond hair? I met him today. Dr. Lukas de Wilde is his name.”
She scanned him with sparkling dark eyes. “Holding out on
me, are you?”
“I thought he’d be perfect for Bella.” In months and years past, I might have thought of Madison first, but not since she and Anton Ball, our police chief, had begun a tentative mating dance.
“He sure is,” Madison decreed. She pulled me over to the wall, where the three of us stood to hear Rich’s welcoming speech. “His friend tried to hit on me earlier. But I’m not sure he’s my type.” She nodded at a good-looking dark-haired man, who was now standing beside Lukas. He was fit and trim, if on the short side, with piercing brown eyes and deeply tanned skin. His hair was cut short and sleek, like an otter’s fur. A gold watch glinted on his furry arm.
“Not bad, though,” I said, to be fair. Although I was rooting for Madison and Anton to get together, I didn’t want to be pushy about it. She shrugged in response.
The door to the main restaurant opened and Bella slipped in. She glanced around, spotted us, and worked her way around the room to where we stood. We merely mouthed greetings since Rich was beginning his welcome speech.
“This year we’re doing something a little different,” Rich said. “Oh, we’ve got the classics here, don’t worry.” He chuckled. “But College of the Isles is honored to be hosting a team of aquaculture experts this summer. A project called Farming the Sea.”
I’d heard of aquaculture, which was a form of farming, only with sea animals or plants. It was said to hold promise in areas with declining fish or shellfish stock, like Maine.
Rich introduced the team. Lukas, who I’d already met at Shorehaven, was a professor at the University of Brussels. The man who spoke to Madison was Dr. Ruben Janssen, also from the university. A younger man with sandy curls was teaching assistant Theo Nesbitt. His fellow teaching assistant was Hailey Piper, petite and pretty, with long blonde hair, pointed features, and full, pouting lips.
“Hailey’s local,” Madison whispered. “Poor thing lost both parents to cancer a couple of years ago.”
My heart gave a twinge of sympathetic sadness. I too had lost my parents, during a car accident when I was eight. Thankfully my wonderful grandparents had stepped in to care for me. I hoped Hailey had other family.
Lukas stepped forward. “Good evening, everyone.” His gaze scanned the crowd, landing briefly on me with a smile. “On behalf of my team, I want to say how excited we are to be in beautiful Blueberry Cove.” He paused for light applause. “In a time of high demand on our ocean resources, aquaculture offers much opportunity. Through environmentally sensitive techniques we can increase the supply of fish, shellfish, and yes, seaweed without further stressing the planet.”
Dr. Ruben Janssen stepped forward. “And I’d like to add that seaweed has many uses. Including biofuel. Think of it, powering your automobiles with energy from the sea.”
I imagined Beverly puttering down the road, emitting clouds of seaweed-scented exhaust. Would it only be sold at Shell stations? I bit back a snicker.
With a tight smile at his colleague, Lukas took back the reins. “Now I’d like to introduce you to Jamaica Jones and Patrick Chance, two local seaweed entrepreneurs. They’ll tell us about the delights we’re going to enjoy tonight.”
The first thing that struck me about the farmers was their hair. Jamaica was dark-skinned, with long braids confined by a folded red bandana. She wore white overalls, a tie-dye tee, and red clogs, cute but practical. Tall and lean, Patrick rocked a man bun and was dressed in a plaid shirt over jeans and a thermal tee. He wore unlaced work boots.
“Hey,” Patrick said with a wave. “We’re real happy to be here and share our creations with you.” He held up a packaged snack bar. “Including Seaseme Power Bars. Take one for dessert.”
Jamaica darted him a look I couldn’t quite decipher before adding, “The kitchen didn’t know what to think when we delivered fresh seaweed and the recipes to make these dishes.” She gestured to platters with flair, like a game-show host. “We have seaweed burger sliders, Asian deep-fried seaweed bites, and cucumber seaweed salad. Step right up, everyone. And enjoy.” She delivered a final flourish with a grin and stepped away from the table.
People began to line up, picking up small plates and napkins and moving along. My friends and I joined the tail end. “Sophie and Jake still aren’t here,” I said to Ian. “Did Jake text you?” I checked my phone. Nothing.
“Maybe they got hung up.” He waggled his brows at me.
I got his meaning immediately. Both of them worked hard—Sophie running the Bean and Jake out pulling lobster traps—and time together was precious. An inspiration to the rest of us, they had sizzling hot chemistry but were best friends too, with great communication and lots of laughter. I half expected to hear news of an engagement any minute.
“Probably so,” I said with a laugh, turning my attention to the food. Scallops wrapped in bacon, check. Mini lobster roll, absolutely. Clams casino, you bet. All of it fresh and local. In fact, Jake had probably caught the lobster.
A familiar voice whispered in my ear. “Come on, you have to try the slider.” Madison took two. “They might notice if you don’t.”
She knew how to get to me. I certainly didn’t want to hurt the feelings of the farmers, who were chatting with guests nearby. “All right.” I gave in and took one. I skipped the other dishes, not quite adventurous enough yet to try them.
We found spots at one of the tiny round standing-height tables lining the walls. As Madison began telling us why seaweed was so nutritious, I sampled the lobster roll, half listening. My view was of the deck, and I saw Brendan Murphy, who worked at the Bean with Sophie, out there cleaning up empty glasses. This must be a second job for him, which wasn’t unusual in the coastal economy.
Hailey Piper went out onto the deck and approached Brendan. He glanced up sharply, his shoulders stiffening. She moved closer, playing with a lock of her long hair, and he backed up. Interesting. Hailey was local, as was Brendan. Did they have a history? She continued to talk, throwing her head back in laughter, and even daring to put a hand on his arm. She must have broken through his reserve because I saw Brendan give one of his rare, beautiful smiles.
He made motions indicating he needed to get back to work, and she let him. But instead of coming inside, she moved to the railing to look at the view.
“I think I might go for seconds,” Ian said, bringing me back to my friends.
I looked at his plate, which was empty. “Don’t fill up. We’re going out to dinner.” This reception was supposed to take the place of appetizers, not be the whole meal.
“How did you like the seaweed dishes?” Madison asked Ian.
“Not bad,” he said. “I might try another sample.”
Traitor. I still hadn’t even taken a nibble of mine. With a sigh, I bit the bullet, er, the seaweed slider. Lukas was out on the deck talking to Hailey now, and as with Brendan, I could easily read the body language. The professor and teaching assistant were not happy with each other. Crossed arms, tapping feet, and scowls said it all.
Hmm. It wasn’t bad. Kind of like a salty veggie burger. “It’s good,” I admitted to Madison, wiping my mouth with a napkin to nab a dribble of aioli mayo.
“Told you.” Madison leaned close. “Do you know that man? He keeps looking over here.”
I followed her gaze. Craig Brady was chatting with Dr. Ruben Janssen in the corner. She was right, he did keep darting glances my way. I waved and smiled and he averted his eyes with a frown. Lovely chap. “That’s Eleanor Brady’s nephew,” I said. “I got the impression he wasn’t very happy to see me at her house today.”
Madison snorted. “He probably thinks you’re taking advantage of her. Isn’t that a concern many people have about their elderly relatives?”
“I suppose so,” I admitted. “But actually, I was thinking the same about him. I get the feeling he bullies her.”
“That’s despicable.” Madison scowled at Craig, who was fortunate he had his back turned. Her glares had the ability to strike fear into the biggest, baddest bully out there.
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Bella joined us at the table. “Hey, ladies. How are you tonight?” She smiled over her shoulder at Theo Nesbitt, who was talking to Patrick, the seaweed farmer. “I would have been here sooner but I picked up a puppy dog.” Theo glanced our way then averted his eyes, his cheeks reddening. The teaching assistant had sandy curls and the type of fair skin that showed every emotion. Right now he was mortified.
“Brave man,” Madison cracked. “What is he? Twenty?”
“Twenty-two,” Bella said, pursing her lips. “He just graduated from college.”
I nudged Bella with my shoulder and looked at Lukas, who was talking to Ian. “I was thinking more along those lines for you. Dr. Lukas.”
“Dr. Delicious, more like,” Madison said, deadpan. Her dry delivery set us off and we all giggled like schoolgirls.
“You are too much, Madison,” Bella said. She looked over my shoulder, and suddenly the laughter left her as her brow creased in concern. “There’s Sophie.” She set down her wineglass. “Something’s wrong.”
I turned to see Sophie standing in the doorway, alone. Her hair was windswept and her eyes were red, as if she had been crying. Craning her neck, she searched the room until she spotted us, then rushed over to the table.
“What’s wrong?” I asked in alarm. “Is it Jake? Is he okay?” Terrible scenarios ran through my head. Had his lobster boat sunk? No, I saw the Maggie May at harbor this afternoon. A car accident, maybe? I held my breath for the answer.
Sophie shook her head. “No, nothing like that.” Her lips began to tremble. With an effort she swallowed and said, “We broke up. Jake and I are over.” Her voice rose to a wail and she burst into tears.
The three of us exchanged glances of dismay and disbelief. “No way,” Madison blurted. “You two are per—” She broke off, no doubt realizing that Sophie wouldn’t want to hear how great she and Jake had been.
Bella swept Sophie into an embrace. “Oh, cara, I’m so, so sorry.” She patted Sophie’s back. “We are here for you, whatever you need.”
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