by Nicole Ellis
He smiled at her. “Hey. Are you Tia?”
She nodded, surprised that he knew her name.
He rested his hand on the carved wooden post at the top of the stairs. “Shawn asked me to see if you were up here. Apparently Zoe’s been calling and you weren’t answering.”
Tia peered at her phone’s screen. He was right. She had three missed calls and two texts from Zoe. She must not have heard them come in while the phone was buried in her coat pocket in the hallway. “Thanks.”
She tapped on her text messages. Zoe wanted to discuss something with her ASAP about that night’s event.
Sorry, didn’t hear my phone. I’m at Cottage Twenty, but I’ll meet you at the Inn in a few minutes. She stuffed the phone back into her pocket and stepped forward, then halted. The man hadn’t moved yet, and was blocking the exit. He seemed to be examining everything upstairs, including her.
She had to be a mess from all of the cobwebs and dust she’d cleared out, and she wouldn’t be surprised if she had dirt on her face. She felt her cheeks flame. Now was not the time to be meeting strangers.
A text message vibrated through the thick fabric of her jacket. She really need to get back to the Inn to see what Zoe wanted. “Excuse me.”
His gaze traveled back to her and he blinked. “Oh, sorry.” He moved away from the top of the stairs. “I’ve been working on this house for a few days but I hadn’t been upstairs before. The view of the bay is beautiful.”
She grinned. “I know. I love it.” She moved past him, closer to the stairs.
“Hey, I think you forgot something in there,” he said.
Tia’s mind was jumbled, wondering what had gone wrong with that evening’s event. “I’ll come back for the cleaning stuff later.”
“I meant this.” He bent down to pick up the cigar box and held it out to her. “It doesn’t look like something you’d want to leave behind.”
“Oh.” She took it from him, frowning at the lock. “This isn’t mine. I just found it, and I’m not even sure what’s in it. Probably just some old cigars.”
He peered at the box and reached out to touch the hasp and lock. “I doubt it’s cigars. This doesn’t look like it was put on by the factory.”
“Really?” Tia took a closer look, then shrugged. “I can’t get it open. I was going to try to figure out how to open it later.” How she was going to do that without damaging the antique padlock or whatever was in the box, she didn’t know.
His chocolate-brown eyes met hers. “If you’d like, I can take it home with me. I think I can get the lock off without damaging the box.”
Tia hesitated. She’d just met this guy and the box wasn’t even hers. Then again, she didn’t think Zoe, Shawn, or Meg would care if she let him take it.
“I’m off work for the weekend, but I can bring it back on Monday, if that’s good for you.” He held three fingers up in the air and solemnly intoned, “Scout’s honor.”
She grinned, recognizing the salute from her brother’s time in the Boy Scouts. She was pretty sure that if she tried to get into the box, she’d end up breaking it. Shawn was a good judge of character, and if he trusted this man enough to be a member of his crew, she could trust him with an old box she’d just found.
“Well, how can I say no to an offer from a Boy Scout?” She grinned and handed the box back to him.
“I’ll treat it carefully, ma’am.” He chuckled and tucked it under his arm, before gesturing to the stairs. “After you.”
He followed her down the stairs and out the front door. In the corner of the yard, a few men had gathered around Shawn, who appeared to be giving them some instructions.
She stopped on the porch and turned around to face the man. “Oh. I almost forgot. You know who I am, but I didn’t get your name.”
He held out his right hand. “Cal Perkins. Nice to meet you.”
His hand enveloped hers as she shook it. “Nice to meet you too.” Her phone buzzed again. “I need to run, but I’ll come find you on Monday, okay?”
“Sure thing. See you later.” He ambled off toward the rest of the men as she hurried away toward the Inn.
While she’d admired the resort’s natural beauty on her morning walk, her thoughts were now consumed by the cottage and what she’d found in the closet. The mysterious cigar box had been an intriguing surprise – as had meeting Cal. She’d thought she didn’t want anything to interrupt the nice, predictable life she’d been building at the resort, but maybe she’d been wrong. Maybe she did need something to shake things up a bit – she only wished it could be something other than her parents coming to visit for Christmas.
5
Cal
Cal turned the antique cigar box over in his hands once he was home and able to spend some time studying it. His grandmother had kept her sewing supplies in one of these, but it had been substantially cleaner, and he didn’t remember a lock on it. So what could be inside that someone would need to lock up and hide under the floorboards in a bedroom closet?
He walked briskly over to the metal cabinet in his basement workshop and flung open the door, scanning the shelves for a bottle of rust remover. He’d used some on a project a few months ago, so it had to be there somewhere. He ran his fingers over the cans and bottles until they landed on a white container covered with black text.
With care, he sprayed some of the chemical on the box’s hinges, the hasp, and inside of the small padlock, jiggling the metal to make sure the phosphoric acid would penetrate deep into the device. The lock itself didn’t appear too corroded and he hoped it wouldn’t be too difficult or to pick. Sure, it would have been easier to simply cut the lock off with his bolt cutters, but the box was old and, if possible, he wanted to avoid damaging it. Besides, he liked a challenge.
He set the box on the workbench to let the rust remover work its magic. Now what? It would probably take at least ten minutes. He walked over to the laundry area and threw some clothes in the washing machine. Within seconds of turning it on, the water streamed over the clothes, and the humming of the pipes filled the small space. The background noise was welcome in the quiet of the cave-like basement.
He’d grown used to the solitude of life in a small town over the past year, even relishing it at times, but it was a far cry from the high-rise condo in downtown Seattle that he’d lived in while married to Marci. They had both been successful commercial real estate brokers in the city, and it had made sense for them to live close to their jobs. He’d loved his career and the trappings of success that had come with it, including the expensive condo, fancy dinners, and too many alcohol-fueled nights out with clients. In reality, he’d been caught up in a fast-paced rat race he couldn’t escape from – until it had become more than he could handle.
Marci hadn’t taken too well to his sudden desire to quit his job, and she’d hated the idea of moving out of the city. She’d grown up in a small town and had dreamed all her life of living in downtown Seattle. Eventually, it became clear that she preferred her fast-paced city life over being married to him. They’d amicably divorced a year ago and she’d bought him out of his share of the condo. He’d used the proceeds to buy a small, hundred-year-old house in Willa Bay.
He looked around the damp basement and grinned. She would hate this house. He hadn’t been sure in the beginning whether he’d like living in a small town either, but it had grown on him. He liked puttering around his house, having a place to work on his car, and not hearing the constant hum of the city. Most of all, he appreciated the lack of pressure and drama that he’d discovered in his new life.
The washing machine roared to life behind him, spinning and rumbling in place on the concrete floor. He returned to his workshop, giving the lock an experimental tug. The once-rusty shackle moved slightly in its housing. He stuck a tension tool into the bottom of the key hole, then inserted a lock pick above it, manipulating the internal mechanism until he felt the latch pop. As kids, he and his brother had spent countless hours learning to pick locks
, convinced they were going to be the next Hardy Boys. He now worked in construction and Max was a statistician, but Cal had held on to the old lock-pick set, and could at last claim that some good had come from all of that practice.
With the padlock off and most of the rust removed, the hasp flipped up easily. He stared at the box. Should he open it?
No. This was Tia’s mystery box, not his. Although the curiosity was already killing him, he put the hasp back into place and slid the open padlock through the loop. He hoped that after she opened it, Tia would share details about the contents of the box, but that was up to her.
He was surprised he’d never run into her before in the few months he’d been working on Shawn’s construction crew, but he’d usually kept his head down. It had been sheer chance that he’d been the first team member to arrive at the resort that day, and Shawn had asked him to check to see if Tia was at the cottage.
His lips curved into a smile, remembering her expression when he’d appeared at the top of the stairs. She’d clutched her phone like a weapon, but had been cautiously friendly to him. She’d obviously spent the morning cleaning the old cottage. He’d tried hard to hide his amusement at the cobwebs streaking her dark hair and the splotches of dirt freckling her cheeks by studying the architecture of the room.
He’d always been fascinated by old buildings and had once thought he’d enjoy a career as an architect, but instead studied business in college. Occasionally, in his old life, he’d had the pleasure of working with someone who’d wanted space in one of Seattle’s historic buildings, but most of his clients had favored a more streamlined, contemporary look. The cottage was much smaller in scale than the commercial properties in the city, but it had its own charming details, including original hardwood floors, crown molding, and prairie-style windows.
Those features hadn’t kept him from surreptitiously studying Tia too. Although she’d worn her hair up in a ponytail, strands of it had come loose, framing her face in wavy tendrils. Her expression had contorted with concern when she’d seen the missed calls on her phone, but even that hadn’t affected her attractiveness. She seemed completely unaware of her own beauty – unlike his ex-wife, who’d wielded her looks like a weapon to get what she wanted.
He frowned, and his gaze strayed back to the cigar box. It had taken a lot of hard work to get to where he was now. After the divorce and subsequent move to Willa Bay, he’d cut off ties to any bad influences in Seattle, including people he’d once considered friends. It had been difficult to do, but necessary if he wanted to move on with his life.
He’d worked in construction off and on since high school, and opted to pursue that field, at least for the near future. The work wasn’t as stable, but he had plenty of money in the bank and time to work on his priorities. Moving from job to job hadn’t given him many opportunities to make friends with co-workers like he’d always done in the past, so it had been over a year since he’d gone to dinner or hung out with anyone other than his family.
He hadn’t minded his solitary lifestyle while he got himself back on track, and he felt confident in his ability to avoid things that had caused him trouble in the past. However, relationships of any kind took work and had the potential to turn his life upside-down again.
He’d experienced an instant attraction to Tia, but was he ready to fall for someone new?
6
Debbie
Debbie spread the documents she’d gathered over the last few weeks across the surface of the catering kitchen’s small table. It was taking her longer than she’d expected to pull together the cancer fundraiser she was planning in memory of her good friend, Diana, who had passed away last summer. She’d intended to be much farther along in the process by now, but hadn’t anticipated the amount of research she would need to do first.
She picked up the “Fundraising for Idiots” book she’d checked out of the library, and opened it to the first page. She didn’t care much for the title, but it was the most comprehensive book she’d found on the subject so far. Between business and family obligations, time had been in short supply, and there was still so much to learn. Gathering this much information had already taken much longer than she’d expected, so she would any advice she could get at this point.
Debbie really wanted this event to be a success, both for her friend’s family and for the local Cancer Society. Diana’s death had been devastating to her, and she hoped this project would not only memorialize her friend, but make a difference in people’s lives – like Diana had made in hers.
“How’s it going, Mom?” Libby asked from where she stood near the center island in the catering kitchen.
Debbie looked up and smiled at her oldest daughter. “So far, so good, but that might change after I start looking at these.”
Libby laughed as she plunked a canister of flour on the table. “Well, I’m glad you decided to do this. I think it’ll be good for you – and for Diana’s family, of course.”
“I hope so.” Debbie stared at the mound of papers in front of her. The last few weeks had been a whirlwind of activity. She’d contacted the Cancer Society and visited City Hall to find out if she needed any permits for an event. She still wasn’t sure what she was doing for the actual fundraiser, but she was leaning toward a benefit dinner and auction. She glanced up at Libby. “So what did you decide to make today?”
Libby picked up a box from the floor and tipped it toward Debbie to show her the red and green apples inside. “Remember when Gabe and I went to Boise a few weeks ago?”
Debbie nodded. “Of course.” Libby’s husband Gabe had needed to attend training for his new job at the company’s headquarters in Idaho, and they’d okayed having Libby travel with him. Knowing her daughter and son-in-law badly needed some time alone, Debbie had been happy to watch the kids while they were gone. As Libby eyed the box, a brief sadness crossed her face, and Debbie wondered if their couples-only trip hadn’t been everything her daughter had hoped for.
The expression disappeared quickly though, and Libby gave her a wide grin. “Well, we visited an orchard nearby and we went a little bit crazy picking apples. I thought I’d try using them to make apple galettes for the Wedding Crashers potluck tonight. I’ve never made them before, but I figured we had extra apples, so why not experiment?”
Debbie smiled. “Sounds good. I volunteer to be your guinea pig.”
Libby laughed. “I’ll hold you to that.”
Debbie watched as her oldest daughter jetted around the kitchen gathering supplies. Libby had always been a dynamo, and Debbie wasn’t sure what she’d do without her, both in the business and in her everyday life. Reluctantly, she forced her attention away from Libby and got back to working on the fundraiser.
Debbie planned to make her dishes later in the afternoon for that evening’s potluck, so she hadn’t objected when Libby had asked if she could use the kitchen while Debbie worked on her fundraising project. There was something familiar and relaxing about having another person there with her anyway. In fact, it probably would have been too quiet if Libby hadn’t been there. The humming of the refrigerator and the ticking of the clock on the wall would have driven Debbie crazy.
An hour later, Debbie pulled herself away from the fundraising book and wearily rubbed her eyes. The delicious aroma of baked apples wafted through the kitchen, making her stomach grumble.
Libby turned away from the sink where she was washing dishes. “It should be done in a couple of minutes. Do you want me to make a pot of coffee and we can take a break together?”
“I’d like that.” Debbie took a long look at the information in front of her. She’d thought reading the book would help, but now she was more anxious about this huge project than she’d been before. When she’d declared she was going to host a fundraiser in Diana’s honor, she hadn’t really thought it through. Now she had a better idea of how she wanted to proceed, but it was going to be a lot more work than she’d expected. She’d been procrastinating on hiring an assistant for
Willa Bay Provisions, but maybe it would be best to hire someone soon and get them up to speed before the start of the holiday catering season.
While the galettes finished baking, Debbie took out a lined notepad and wrote down everything she would need for the event and estimates for their associated costs. By the time Libby had removed the dessert from the oven and set it on a cooling rack in the center of the kitchen, Debbie was starting to realize she had bigger problems than simply organizing the event. She sighed loudly and Libby came over to her bearing two steaming cups of coffee.
“Is something wrong?” Libby asked.
Debbie buried her head in her hands. “I don’t know how I’m going to pull this off.”
Libby gave her a sympathetic look. “I’m sure you’ll do fine.” She sat down at the table across from Debbie with her own cup of coffee. “Is there something I can do to help?”
“Do you have this much money to lend me?” Debbie held up the notepad and pointed at a figure she’d circled at the bottom. “This is how much a dinner and an auction will cost.”
Libby’s eyes widened and she set the mug down in front of her. “That’s a big number!”
Debbie grimaced. “Unfortunately, yes. And this is an at-cost estimate, with us providing much of the labor.” Debbie was accustomed to catering large functions, but she’d never had to budget for an entire event.
Libby looked up from the notebook. “You’ll sell tickets in advance though, right? And I’m sure Meg and Zoe would be happy to give you a significant discount if you want to hold it at the Inn at Willa Bay.”
“I hope so.” Debbie had considered having the event at the Inn, but she hadn’t finalized anything yet. Her stomach twisted at the thought of everything she had left to do.