Sea Glass Cottage

by Vickie McKeehan

  “I’m about to head inside now to talk to Julianne Dickinson.” He told Izzy about his plan to befriend the troubled boy. “If it goes well this afternoon, I’d like to see if Bobby’s parents will let him come to a sleepover this weekend at my house.”

  Isabella stared at him. “You know what? You get more and more handsome every day that passes.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “Because you’re an amazing human being, Thane Delacourt, add in the fact that you’re completely in tune with who you are as a father, and it makes me want to…”

  About that time a voice from a nearby house broke up what promised to be an interesting offer. Logan came running up. Instead of finishing her thought, Thane watched as she waved over her shoulder.

  “Gotta get to work. Take good care of my dog. See you guys later...”

  He watched her walk away and glared toward Logan. “Did anyone ever tell you that you have rotten timing?”

  “Hey, you heard the woman. She has to get to work. She has no time to play kissy face with the likes of you standing in the middle of the street.”

  Thane shot him a sarcastic bent. “What would the town do without that artful bulletin from Logan Donnelly?”

  “It’s a gift, I know. I wanted to thank you for your help last night looking for the Prather boy. Did you see the way the town came together in such a short amount of time?”

  “Yeah. I kept thinking about that while I drove around. We might be a small dot on the map to many but the people who live here show up for each other.”

  “I’ve traveled the world and never experienced that sort of thing before I came here.”

  “I guess that says it all about why I came back. I want this for Jonah. Every child deserves to grow up knowing the people around them care.” Thane thought about Bobby and it made him more determined than ever to crack the kid’s veneer.

  A few minutes before nine o’clock Isabella reported for duty inside what looked like a warehouse. But she already knew the place had once been the town’s newspaper office. She liked to think that with the mural on the outside of the building next door, this part of Pelican Pointe held the beginnings of an art district, small but starting to come around.

  Once she stood inside the entrance looking up at the focal point—the tomol hoisted up on display River and her team had unearthed—that feeling doubled. The plank canoe had been positioned to look as though it had just washed up onshore. The exhibit popped with realism. The Chumash craftsmanship was evident as she took a tour around the vessel encased in glass. With nothing more than flints and sharpened shells, the early people had built their boats with redwood logs, tied the slats together using wooly milkweed fiber or hemp, and filled any cracks in the design with yap, or pine pitch before stretching shark skin over the shell to make it even more resistant to water.

  “On time. I like that,” River said with a glint in her eye from the opposite side of the room.

  Isabella stood back, tilted her head admiring the display. “This is an amazing representation of skill and workmanship.”

  “I had this idea to make it look as though the canoe rested on the rocks just like we discovered it, like it had been swept onto shore with the tides. Since this baby is our primary focal point, Logan took it a step further with the design. He’s in the process of building an authentic-looking beach scene complete with a series of faux boulders to make the exhibit really work. He’ll add that in layers in a couple weeks.”

  “It already pops. I’m guessing you couldn’t actually get boulders through the front door so his design works as the next, best thing.”

  “We could, but it would be a lot of wasted energy bringing in big rocks when Logan managed to solve the problem.”

  “Exactly. Where’s the rest of your inventory?”

  “There’s a lot more in the back. Follow me. We’ll have the main exhibit room and then several anterooms or halls holding the smaller items.”

  She followed as her boss led the way into a storage area packed with relics waiting to be cleaned and tagged for show. Isabella spent the rest of the morning listening to River spin a tale about each individual Chumash artifact. With each story, she got a better idea of the Native American people who had lived and thrived in the area for more than eight hundred years.

  As she analyzed each piece, Isabella became more and more fascinated with the lifestyle. “I’m impressed with what you’ve done here, River. People will definitely line up to get a look at all this.”

  “That’s what we’re hoping for—an ‘if you build it, he will come’ Field of Dreams type of moment.”

  Isabella continued to skim through the assortment of shells and beads used to make jewelry, the crude pieces of pottery, the numerous steatite carvings of animals in grayish green or light brown. There were pretty ornaments in soapstone, many different animals of various shapes. Bears, wolves and deer showed off their creative use of paint. She picked one up and dangled it at her earlobe. “These are beautiful. You do realize they’d make fantastic earrings.”

  “I know. The temptation is definitely there. Look at this.” River held up a rock with a colorful drawing of village life depicted on it. She waved her hand over a table replete with stones. “There are enough arrowheads and simple shells here to fill up several baskets.”

  “All this came from the beach below the cliffs?”

  “Every single piece dug out of the sand and grit. What you see here is two years of my life’s work.”

  “You must be so proud of what you’ve discovered here and brought out into the open for the rest of us to enjoy.”

  At noon Thane showed up at the museum with Jax and Jazz on leashes to take Isabella to lunch.

  “Hey River. Any chance I could borrow your slave, feed her, and then bring her back to you ready for a brutal afternoon.”

  “Sure. Isabella, get out here. There’s a hunky guy standing near the display willing to take you to lunch. I have to run home anyway to see if Brent remembered to feed Luke.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  “Yeah, I am,” River said with a grin. “Brent’s probably waiting with tuna sandwiches at the ready.”

  “The ones with apples and pecans in the mix?” Thane asked.

  “This guy knows his way around the kitchen,” Isabella said with a nod of her head when she appeared from the backroom.

  “I just like to eat,” Thane admitted to the women.

  “I’ll have to try that combination,” River told them as she locked up for lunch. “In the meantime I don’t expect culinary genius from the town’s top cop. I know my guy. Just as long as he remembered to throw together a ham sandwich or an omelet, I’ll be happy.”

  The three took off walking until Thane and Isabella turned the corner on Pacific Street to head to his house.

  “What’s on the menu?”

  “Nothing as fancy as tuna sandwiches.”

  Once he unlocked the door to his house, the dogs bounded inside ahead of them. She noticed he’d tidied up quite a bit from last night. Standing in the great room, she caught sight of the table already set for two with a snappy white tablecloth and crystal. A smile broke out on her face. “This is above and beyond what I was expecting.”

  “It’s never too early in the day for ambiance.” He lit two candles for a centerpiece.

  “Why Thane Delacourt, I do believe you’re a romantic.”

  “I never said that I wasn’t. I know how to wine and dine with the best of them. Today, I picked up one of Perry’s specialties, crab cakes, fingerling potatoes and a broccoli-cabbage salad.”

  “That is so funny. I’ve smelled those crab cakes ever since I left home this morning. You’re a mind reader.”

  “Take a seat. How about a glass of wine?”

  “Absolutely. In celebration of my first day on the job, how can I refuse? I’m sure one glass won’t prevent me from cataloging artifacts.”

  “How’s that going?” he asked as he pulled the cork out of a bo
ttle of chardonnay.

  “It’s interesting work because it’s directly related to the history of the area which makes for a fascinating real-life walk out of the past.” She went into a detailed account of some of the relics, saving the best for last. “You saw the canoe. Logan’s creating a base that will give it a natural setting so that when you walk in the whole thing blows you away. Imagine, that piece buried under all that sand for hundreds of years.”

  “It’s an impressive piece. But then I always thought the Chumash were talented. If you haven’t been to the Santa Barbara Museum of Natural History, they’ve dedicated an entire exhibit hall to the Chumash way of life.”

  “River mentioned it. I believe her goal is to make this one as notable one day. Not changing the subject but I’m curious. What did Julianne say when you suggested that you’d like to help Bobby Prather?”

  “She was totally onboard with the idea. I just hope befriending him helps the kid, you know?”

  “It’s a shame his homelife is so chaotic. But maybe by reaching out to him you’ll at least find out the reason.”

  He picked up her hand and kissed the palm. “You’re an understanding soul. For one so young, you seem to have come to terms with your past, your trouble with the ex you’ve put behind you. Not everyone does that.”

  “There’s an old saying or maybe it’s a Chinese proverb, I forget which. ‘Make friends with your misfortunes, otherwise you’ll always be angry.’ I made friends with my past about three years ago. I’ve moved on from the past and I’ll never go back to living that way ever again,” Isabella admitted.

  “To a certain extent, that’s what I’ve learned, you pretty much better accept the things that have happened and move forward, give up clinging to the past, otherwise you’re bogged down in making the same mistakes.” When he saw that she’d finished her meal, he took her hand and led her over to the sofa.

  Without a word, he snatched her around the waist and brought her onto his lap.

  Throwing her arms around his neck, she latched on to his strong shoulders. Like gripping a lifeline to keep from going under for the third time, she held on. For a brief moment, a tremble of doubt ran through her. But that dissipated once his lips met hers.

  Somewhere inside, a force kindled to life within her. It built slowly like an ember glowing along a dark road. She felt herself warm, then get burner-hot. With each of his kisses, the past slipped farther and farther into the distance until the wound had seared closed.

  He nudged her shirt aside, undid her bra so he could nibble on her bare breast. The sucking motion had her calling out his name. He lifted her up slightly, slid his hands up her skirt, dragged down her panties. He shifted her position slightly to gain better access. Her breath hitched while his fingers traveled to wet folds. As his mouth worked its way around curves, the climax slammed into her. A state of bliss she’d never known before swallowed her up, healed her completely.

  A liberating freedom moved through her. She pressed him to lift his hips so she could help him out of his jeans. Leveraging herself up, she climbed onto his lap and straddled him again. Opening, moving as he moved, like two souls stirring to dance—two connected as one. They formed that one link as old as time.

  Pleasure took hold, erupted and slipped into every nerve and core, overriding everything else. The air sizzled around them with sensations. They let loose like two teens in the backseat of a car on a Saturday night. Clinging to each other and dizzy with the fervor that built up, they raced along the edge of a cliff. When she shattered again it was into a million brilliant shades of red like sparkling sea glass scattered on white sand.

  Breathless, she rested her head on his. “You’re good, I’ll give you that.” She threw out her arms, raised her voice and announced, “The drought’s over.”

  “In a big way. You were phenomenal. What happened to ‘I wasn’t all that great at it’?”

  “You think I was great? Really?”

  Thane chuckled even though he didn’t really want to let go of her hips. “Yeah. I opt for a replay. Give me twenty minutes and I’ll see what I can do.”

  She laughed and slapped his hand away as it wandered up to her breast to toy with a nipple. “I don’t have twenty minutes. I’m late getting back to work on my first day as it is. I’ll probably get fired.”

  He finally released her and watched her shapely form extract from his. “You’ve got some body there, Rialto.”

  Grabbing her underwear, she wiggled into them, and caught Thane staring at the showy movement.

  He grinned and patted her ass. “Next time I promise to last longer.”

  “You lasted just fine.”

  “Come on then. I’ll zip up and drive you back. It’ll be a lot faster than walking.”

  Once back in the main room at the museum, Isabella’s assignment was to log each artifact into the computer. There was a folder for weapons—harpoons, bows and arrowheads. There was one for tools, which included those items used in the day-to-day running of the village. River’s team had found an abundance of rudimentary utensils used in the communal cooking chores. Most were made from the hard natural substances like quartz and obsidian which were prevalent in the area. Some were used to scoop out the meat from abalone shells while others were honed and sharpened and used in place of knives. A variety of bones from deer, bear, swordfish and whale were used in the same manner.

  Which meant Isabella had a fair share of data entry to complete. As she got down to her work, she wouldn’t allow herself to rethink how she’d spent her lunch hour. Instead of second thoughts, she decided to ride the tidal wave Thane had provided for as long as it lasted.

  That’s why she was stunned to see Drea walk through the door carrying a huge vase full of two dozen purple and white orchids.

  “Who are those for?” River asked from across the room where the glass cases would hold the weapons display.

  “These are for Isabella, with a card.”

  River turned to stare at her employee. “What kind of lunch did you have anyway,” River teased.

  “Uh, the usual,” Isabella said getting up out of her chair to take the bouquet. She read the card, which thankfully held no indication of what the two had spent their lunch hour doing.

  “Brent didn’t send me flowers, but then marriage tends to take the romance out of everything.”

  That comment brought wide-eyed looks from Isabella and Drea alike.

  “Just kidding,” River said with a wink. “How’s the dating thing going with Zach?”

  “Oh. Well. Zach’s been super busy with everything he has on his plate and I’m swamped with homecoming approaching and helping to plan two weddings. That’s why it isn’t easy to find time to get together. Plus, I’ve never been both the florist and part of the wedding party. That creates its own challenges.”

  “Both Bree’s and Julianne’s? That’s a lot of pressure for you,” Isabella noted.

  “It is.” Drea tilted her head to study the newcomer. “Thanks for that, not a lot of people understand that flowers are a big deal to the bride-to-be.”

  “Flowers are a big focal point of the ritual, getting it right will be a reminder for years to come that you did a great job,” Isabella offered, remembering her own unfortunate, misguided nuptials where she’d wanted to toss the pictures into a roaring fire and obliterate the bad choice she’d made.

  Drea blew out a breath. “Tell me about it. A lot of people don’t understand what work it is to make sure the bride, in this case two, both Bree and Julianne, get the perfect flower arrangements that reflect who they are on the big day. And then if I do a lousy job, the photographer is right there to capture it all in pictures.”

  “For the bride and groom to revisit over and over again,” Isabella finished in empathetic-mode. “After all, every woman has her favorite flower she wants to see in the background.”

  Drea smiled. “I hope you like orchids.”

  “Oh, I do,” Isabella said, inhaling the fragrant buds. “I
t’s a romantic gesture I appreciate more than he could possibly know.”

  “Then don’t forget to tell him that.”

  “When exactly are Julianne and Ryder getting married?” River wanted to know as she leaned over and took a whiff of the buds.

  “Two weeks before Christmas so I’ve got more time to prepare for theirs. But Bree’s is closing in fast at six weeks. And she’s so busy getting her new business off the ground that it’s been a challenge.”

  “Well, just for the record, if Brent ever asks you, my favorite flower is tulips or maybe sunflowers. Yeah, sunflowers are cheaper.”

  Drea burst out laughing. “Okay, I’ll give him a head’s up and a nudge the next time I see him. If you ask me every man needs to keep that kind of info available in the data bank.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  That afternoon on the playground, Jonah and Tommy looked on as Bobby Prather and his buddy, Doug Bayliss, ran roughshod over a group of second graders. The scene frightened the onlookers so much it had Jonah admitting, “Can you believe my dad wants me to invite him over to my house? No way am I doing that.”

  “That’s because Bobby’s mean. Look at him over there. He’s picking on Brennie Davis.”

  “I know you like her.”

  Tommy lifted his shoulders. “She lives right next door to me. I’ve known her my whole life. Uh-oh, Bobby’s spotted us. He’s coming over here.”

  “What are you two jerkwads lookin’ at?” Bobby demanded.

  “Nothing. We’re just standing here talking,” Jonah stated.

  “Well, knock it off or I’ll flatten your nose.”

  Intimidated, Jonah chewed his lip but managed to sputter out, “Want to come over to my house after school?” Jonah heard the words and couldn’t believe they’d come from him. He hoped this wasn’t a huge mistake but took comfort knowing it would make his dad happy.

  “Why would I want to do that?” Bobby asked. “You’re in first grade. I don’t want to hang out with a six-year-old. That would be lame.”