Nick and Jordan exchanged looks. “You don’t have to convince us. It sounds like a plan.”
“Good. I’ve already approached a few of the stores along the boardwalk near the pier to let me leave a stack of my business cards next to their cash registers. Malachi Rafferty thinks I should be able to pick up a few bookings each month that way by word of mouth. Most businesses in town seemed excited about spreading the word.”
“Did someone give you trouble about leaving the business cards?”
“Just one. But he’s left town now anyway.”
“Let me guess. Joe Ferguson.”
“You got it. He refused to let me leave a pack of cards. But his son, Tucker, called me a couple days ago and said it was okay if I still wanted to put them on the counter. So I said sure, left a tall stack there yesterday just to shove it in the old man’s face.”
“Tucker called me yesterday, too,” Nick admitted. “It seems the son understands his father might’ve left him a huge PR problem in his own backyard.”
“It sounds like Tucker’s taking action before it gets too big to overcome,” Jordan added.
“If you ask me, it’s already pretty far out of hand,” Bree stated. “I know Joe pissed off Troy and Zach. They’re both willing to give Tucker a second chance if he realizes the opportunity. What Joe didn’t get is that Tradewinds Boatyard will turn out to be a valuable customer.”
“Everyone in town should be treated like a valuable customer,” Nick declared. “This was a sore spot with me. I could never get Joe to understand that.”
“And believe me Nick spent a lot of time trying,” Jordan said with a smile. “Nick had more run-ins with Joe than anyone else in town. Dealing with that man became tiresome for both of us.”
“Then I guess we’ll reserve judgment until we see if Tucker does anything to improve,” Bree finished.
An irritated River Amandez Cody looked around at the morning surf as it clawed its way into the shoreline, ripping into beach, eating away the landscape. Because it had gotten worse over the summer, she’d shut down the dig site and watched her team pack up and move on. She’d known Julian and Laura for years and already missed her buddies. But she’d come to terms with keeping in touch with them via email. Her family took priority. Not only did she have a son to raise she had another on the way.
No doubt, she had a lot on her plate. Since Marcus had put her in charge of running the Chumash Museum in town, due to open next month, she’d find a way to work around her duties there. She had seven and a half months to get ready for the new addition. The clock ticked toward that family she and Brent wanted. Even though they hadn’t yet announced the news to the world, they would, probably this weekend at the barbeque they planned. From there, town gossip would do the rest.
Brent came up behind her carrying Luke. “I see that look on your face. You’re worried that you caused this erosion. You didn’t. The storm we had in August contributed to the drop in sea level.”
“I know, but I started this. When I got here it was such a beautiful spot. It breaks my heart to see the water this high.”
“Give it time, it’ll recede. But Dad put a call into the conservation group out of San Francisco. They’ll be here next week to evaluate the best way to handle it.”
“That’s something, I guess.”
“Feeling okay?”
“I’m fine. Stop worrying about me,” River said as she rested her head on Brent’s shoulder, which had him in turn, resting his hand on her still-flat belly.
“The next few months are sure to be busy but since crime is almost nonexistent in this town, I can help you with the museum.”
She looked up into his deep brown eyes so like her own. “Never let it be said that the top cop doesn’t know how to use his angles. I wouldn’t mind having your help but I was thinking about getting the word out that I needed an assistant, someone who knows their way around cataloging.”
“What about Isabella Rialto? Word has it she used to work in some type of art gallery.”
River ripped out a laugh. “I thought she was a former ballet dancer. That story came from Hayden who got it from Myrtle Pettibone. I suppose the only way to know is to go right to the source.”
“Now there’s a novel idea, the direct approach. Is that a polite way of telling me I don’t qualify as your coordinator?”
“Nope. Your input is crucial. Even with both of us though, I’m afraid I could use help getting ready for the opening. Besides, I don’t want to get accused of taking the police chief away from his duties in an official capacity.”
“Ah, there is that. Okay. Then go see Isabella. Who knows, maybe the real story is even more interesting and exotic than the one the wagging tongues made up?”
“Ah yes, real life usually is.”
Chapter Six
Over the years the Delacourt home on Landings Bay had seen its share of kids come and go through its doors. The Spanish Colonial where Thane had grown up with his younger sister, Tessa, had acted as the popular hangout on the block. Friends often gathered in the front yard, got into mischief in the treehouse built in the back, or watched cartoons in front of the TV set early on Saturday mornings.
It became routine for Thane and Tessa to share their after-school cookies and milk with classmates. In summer they’d gulp down glasses of cherry Kool-Aid with little league teammates celebrating a victory or sulking over a loss. Both were hosts to countless sleepovers, created enough batches of s’mores in the old kitchen to delight every chocolate lover within forty miles.
Even though Millie and James Delacourt had moved around a lot during their early years of marriage, once the couple settled down in Pelican Pointe, they put the focus on raising their kids. James hired on as a shrimper on one of the trawlers while Millie got a part-time job as a teller at the bank.
With a growing family some months the Delacourts had struggled with their finances, but for the most part, James and Millie had provided their kids with a typical upbringing. After a year on the job, Millie approached Milton Carr and talked him into giving them a loan to buy the single-story, three-bedroom stucco they’d been renting.
As Thane remembered those years, he looked around at the outdated kitchen cabinets and beyond to the interior in the great room. Early morning light fanned through the open sliding glass door and onto the Spanish tile flooring. His parents had long ago yanked out the old carpeting throughout and put in a stylish substitute with colorful inlay. At his mother’s insistence, they’d replaced the dark paneling with a coat of cranberry red paint and white crown molding which gave it a festive air.
He knew the outside needed another shot at repairing the cream-colored stucco and its brown trim, which he planned to get to first chance he got.
Labor Day weekend, the last time Tessa had visited she’d given him grief about the peeling exterior. He’d almost shoved a sandblaster in her hand and then challenged her to get it done herself and quit her bitching. He laughed at the image of his sister, or rather Dr. Tessa, as she was known to her younger patients, slapping on a new surface coat. Tessa the pediatric surgeon lived in Portland, Oregon. She’d never been a big fan of manual labor.
Thane threw coffee beans into a grinder, dumped the contents into a filter, and while it brewed placed a call to Lilly about the outside sign for the pizza parlor. When he learned she could get on it immediately, they agreed to meet later at the restaurant to go over ideas.
After he hung up the phone he filled a mug with caffeine. While sipping his first cup of the day, he glared at the ancient cabinets. He really did need to find out if it was feasible to install new by Thanksgiving when Tessa was due back in town.
He checked the clock on the wall and wondered if it was too early to call and check on Isabella. He shook his head at the eagerness he felt to hear her voice.
That wouldn’t do, he decided. There were a lot of reasons he didn’t want to find himself attracted to her. Namely, she was a distraction he didn’t need right now. Tessa
would surely bitch at him about that. But he had a kid to raise, a restaurant to open, a houseguest due in town in a couple of weeks. He didn’t have time to devote to getting a woman into bed. All that aside, he’d learned it was difficult to have an active sex life when he had a six-year-old for a roommate.
He tried to remember the last time he’d made love to a woman. Then it came to him. When they were still living in New York, the night Fischer had babysat Jonah two weeks before the move here.
As he finished his cup and poured another, he formulated a plan to do something about the drought. But this morning he had to quash his lust. He had a kid to roust out of bed, even on a Saturday.
He crossed through the great room and headed down the hall to what used to be his room from childhood. The very same bedroom that now belonged to Jonah. From the doorway he eyed his rumpled, still-sleeping son who had kicked off most of his covers. He sat down next to him, ran a hand over his head where dark blond hair stuck out every which way.
“Time to get up, partner. Time to wake up. Want to go surfing with me or eat breakfast first?”
Jonah rolled over in a sleepy groan. “Wanna surf,” he mumbled as he attempted to sit up, but in the same motion he slunk back down into the pillow, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.
Thane went over to the closet and pulled out the miniature wetsuit hanging on the peg. “Then let’s get you out of those pajamas and into this. Raise your arms up.”
Jonah knew the drill and obliged, wiggling out of the top that went to his Batman PJs. He let his dad help him get into the body-hugging outfit. But before Thane zipped him up, he tapped him on the shoulder. “Better go pee first.”
While Jonah busied himself in the bathroom, Thane got dressed. Afterward, he grabbed towels and sunscreen and watched as Jonah dashed out to the garage to get his boogie board. They walked to the end of the block, crossed over to Ocean and down to the beach.
With a six-year-old in tow Thane knew to avoid the deeper water and stick to the shallow part of the bay. After all, Jonah would never know the difference. As long as the little guy got to get in the water and splash around on his boogie board, spend a little quality time with his daddy, his little boy would be a happy camper no matter what.
After forty-five minutes though, Thane paddled the short way in, waded onto the beach with Jonah following him like a baby duck.
Flipping his surfboard up, Thane scooped it out of the water, and caught his son doing the same with his mini board. Tucking it under his arm, Thane bent to unfasten the leash strapped to his ankle and with his free hand shook the water out of his dark blond hair. Again, Jonah mimicked his father’s gestures down to the headshake. From behind, his son ran up to him and clapped his hands, stretched one up in the air for a high five.
Thane promptly reached down, tapped his son’s palm with the celebratory gesture the boy had come to expect after a job well done.
“Let’s do it again, Dad! Do it again!”
Thane slicked back the mass of locks that curled to the top of his wet suit and planted his board into the sand so that he could snatch up his son, who was bouncing on his toes.
“That was awesome,” Jonah yelled. “When do I get to do that again?”
“We’ll do it tomorrow. How’s that?” Thane reached for the towel they’d brought and threw it over Jonah’s head to soak up the excess water.
“It’s been a long time since we surfed.”
“Jonah, you went surfing last weekend the same as you did just now.”
“Oh. That’s right. I forgot. I’d remember better if I had my own surfboard like yours.”
Thane already knew that. He’d been listening to that same plea for the past several months. “Maybe Santa will bring you one for Christmas. How’s that sound?”
Jonah’s shoulders slumped in little boy disappointment. “But why can’t I have it now?”
“Because you’re six and I’m the daddy in charge. And because your boogie board works just fine for you.”
As he always did, Jonah changed the topic of discussion in his rapid-fire way without much warning. “I like Izzy. Can we go over there today and check on her head?”
Thane ruffled the kid’s mop of wet hair so like his own. “Sure. That’s probably a good idea. I’ve worked up an appetite. What do you say we grab us some breakfast? What sounds good?”
“Waffles. And bacon.”
“Now we’re talking because I was thinking the same thing.”
From the dew-covered grass in front of Sea Glass Cottage, Isabella still wasn’t used to having the vastness of the ocean as a front yard. She had only to look out over the water to take in the power and awe at the water’s unrelenting force and beauty.
She was about to hobble back inside the house out of the morning chill when something in the waves to the south caught her eye. Looking down at Smuggler’s Bay she watched the byplay between Thane and Jonah. From the height advantage of the cliffs, the two surfers might’ve been mere dots in the sea of foamy crests and breakers, but she found herself unable to turn from the scene. Even from where she stood the sport looked like it took precision and balance along with a healthy dose of adventurous spirit.
While the waves churned, she continued to stare at Thane as he timed the break to perfection so that his son could pop up on his smaller board. She noted he saw to it that the little guy rode the barrel, such as it was, through to its end. Izzy envied such skill and dedication. But that didn’t complete the whole picture. Something about the way father and son interacted with each other tugged at her emotions. It wasn’t the first time the yearning had stirred inside her. The same thing happened whenever she spent time around Kinsey and Logan’s babies.
It didn’t take a therapist to understand the feelings were not-so-subtle reminders of what might have been. Reminders that included how much time she’d wasted with the wrong man.
These last several years, time had somehow gotten away from her. Pretty soon another birthday would mark the calendar and she’d have nothing to show for it.
She shook off the gloom and proceeded to tug at the weeds outside the front door among her patch of fragrant angel trumpets and sturdy ice plants. She was alone for a reason. Her resolve was to never again allow a man to dominate her, to control what she did, what she thought, where she went. Never again would she allow anyone to keep her from doing what she wanted to do. Not ever.
The problem now was to explore the things she wanted to do with her life. Too bad she had no idea what they were. That’s why she wouldn’t quit until she happened upon that key that would unlock her passion for something.
She could only hope she’d recognize it when it did.
Somehow settling on a name brought the restaurant idea full circle and into the “this is really gonna happen” zone for Thane. As he and Jonah sat inside the future location for Longboard Pizza at a makeshift table—a sawhorse with a hunk of plywood on top—the sounds of whirling drills and swinging hammers soon became difficult to overcome.
As father and son went over ideas for the sign with Lilly, Thane raised his voice and asked, “I guess this wasn’t the best place to do this. We can barely hear a thing.”
“It’s okay. I have kids, which means, I don’t need silence to work,” Lilly said, never looking up from her sketch pad, pencil in hand.
“I know how that is. I don’t trust anyone who needs complete quiet to work.” Thane watched as the talented wife and mother drew a rough draft of what they’d discussed earlier on the phone.
“It has to have a longboard on it,” Jonah prompted. “This long,” he added, holding out his arms wide, hoping to show length and width. “The surfboard’s the most important part of the name.”
“I won’t forget,” promised Lilly with a smile, still engrossed in her design.
“You don’t think the pizza is the most important part?” Thane questioned. “I’ll remind you of that when you’re begging me for pepperoni.”
“I like pepperoni.�
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“Who doesn’t like pepperoni? Am I right, Lilly?”
“I guarantee you the whole town can’t wait for their pepperoni fix,” Lilly promised. “You’ll be so busy the line will snake out the door and into the street. Wait and see. I hope you hired plenty of help.”
Thane hoped so too. He’d talked to Fischer after breakfast. His longtime friend had already signed the papers to sublet his Lower East Side loft and make the move west. Fisch couldn’t wait to pack up the car and make the drive cross-country, which was good news for Thane. It meant things were going as planned, staying on schedule. Once Fisch arrived, he could bunk in the spare room until a new place surfaced. It would all work out.
“Everywhere I go around town, people seem excited to have us open. I hope you’re right,” Thane said to Lilly.
About that time Perry Altman came through the door and walked up to where they were sitting on crates. The owner of the elegant, fine-dining establishment, The Pointe, stuck his hand out, introduced himself over the hum of an electric saw in the background. “Hi, Lilly. I came to check out my competition.”
“You serve New York-style pizza?” Thane wanted to know with a grin. He already knew the dish wasn’t on Perry’s menu.
“No, but I should have added it a long time ago. You have a great idea here and a perfect Main Street location to boot, right across from the church will get plenty of action.”
“I’m not here to take business away from you,” Thane stated.
“Oh, I know that,” Perry said with a friendly smile. “If anything you’ll cut more into McCready’s business than mine. He serves the microwave cardboard stuff that makes people want to puke. When do you think you’ll be open?”
Thane thumbed a shot over his shoulder in the direction of Ryder, Zach, and Troy. “If these guys have anything to do with it? Hopefully in about four weeks.”
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