Sea Glass Cottage

by Vickie McKeehan

  Thane stood back, decided the woman knew her stuff. “Okay, let’s see if we can locate ten like these.”

  “Better make it twelve,” she suggested. “Just in case one isn’t as well-made as we think it is.”

  That afternoon at the corner of Tradewinds Drive and Pacific, Nick surveyed the empty lot, the same spot where Bradford Radcliff wanted to put his used car lot. The thirty-year-old was the brother of Nick’s business associate back in Los Angeles and was hoping to make a fresh start somewhere else.

  Bradford liked cars and wanted to turn that passion into his own business. Nick just wasn’t sold on the idea that Bradford could make a go of it in such a small market.

  “You have yourself a nice little town here, Nick,” Bradford said. “I’d like to be a part of it.”

  “We’d love to have you. New business is always welcome,” Nick returned easily.

  “I don’t need a loan from the bank. I have money I’ve saved over the years and my brother is willing to put in the startup costs. What I need from you is advice on how best to get this up and running. It wouldn’t look like your usual rundown used car lot with a mobile trailer on it either. I’d like to put up a small, tasteful permanent building. I’d like to sell reasonably priced, reliable transportation. People always need a ride.”

  “See, that’s what I don’t understand. You’d have a much better chance with that idea in a larger market near Santa Barbara or Santa Cruz. Why here? If your plan is to target a more upscale community this isn’t the place. Most people hereabouts are hardworking and don’t have a lot of money to waste on exotic cars.”

  “I know that. I want to provide them with a place to buy a used car without getting taken. Remember when Dave suggested I come up here to the B&B and bring my girlfriend for a romantic weekend getaway? Well, I did and left the smog behind in L.A. I ended up loving the area.”

  “And the girlfriend?” Nick asked with a grin.

  “Is long gone,” Brad answered. “Anyway, I wandered around the town that trip. I admit I wasn’t too impressed with the place. But by the third trip—”

  “Each with a different girlfriend, as I recall.”

  “Well, yeah. But by the third trip I noticed this town has started coming back from the dead. I began to wonder if it might just be the place for me to put down roots. I’ve fixed up a lot of cars over the years. I’m better at working with my hands than sitting in a cubicle all day. I’d like to bring my inventory up here, such as it is, along with all the ones I have yet to get running. I’d need a good mechanic.”

  “Wally Pierce is one of the best. Thane Delacourt also likes classic cars. He drives one of those old Range Rovers he and his dad fixed up when he was a teenager.”

  “I’ve already talked to Thane. His car caught my eye when I was here last month.”

  “So you don’t work on engines at all?”

  “I mostly work on the body but I’ve been known to tinker with a carburetor a time or two. My shop would be in the back of the property. I talked to Dave already and he thought the whole thing had potential. I think at this point he’d just like to see me happy at something.”

  “And? What are you not telling me, Brad?”

  Brad blew out a breath. “Look, I just want out of L.A. I have my reasons. For one, I’m tired of the commute to work that takes sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic for two hours every day just so I can sit behind a desk staring out the window of a thirty-five-story building. I want to do something I enjoy before I get too old.”

  Nick slapped him on the back. “Then welcome to Pelican Pointe. You’ll need carpenters to help with the building. You’ll also need a sign. It just so happens I know where you can get both. If you need anything else, let me know. We help our own around here.”

  Over the summer at Taggert Farms the newcomer, Gavin Kendall, might’ve assumed the role of overseer from Ryder McLachlan but he still had a lot to learn about growing crops. While he and his wife, Maggie, had done all they could to settle into the caretaker’s cottage—homelessness no longer an everyday occurrence for them—there were challenges. Gavin had his hands full helping to work the farm and learn the ropes. Milking cows hadn’t come easy for him. He hung out with Sammy and Silas as much as time allowed trying to pick up the basics from everything from planting the seeds to packing up the final product. Insecure in that knowledge, he worked hard each and every day to overcome that deficit.

  Incentive to succeed came easy. After spending six months living out of the family minivan going from place to place, no one wanted to make a go of it at the farm more than Gavin did. What he faced working the land was a piece of cake compared to not having a place for his family to live.

  That’s why Gavin tried hard not to make waves. But as the months progressed into fall, something wasn’t right.

  Once a week, Ryder stopped in to check on things. Today was one of those days.

  “Why don’t you just spit it out and tell me what’s wrong?” Ryder asked after Gavin had spent an hour hemming and hawing.

  “Look, I don’t want to lose this job.”

  “And I sure don’t want you to do that either because I might have to go back to farming. Believe me I’d rather work with boats. Now tell me what’s bothering you.”

  “I’m pretty sure we’re running out of growing space here.”

  “What? That’s a joke, right? That’s the last thing I expected you to say. What makes you think that?”

  “I may only have a high-school education, but I can do math. The numbers don’t add up.” Gavin took out a map of the farm, unrolled the paper and flattened it out on the table so Ryder could see.

  “If you break it down per acreage, we’re using every inch of available dirt. Seven acres of lettuce, up from five, five acres of kale, increased by two.” Gavin went on to describe each plot of vegetable in detail and the space each took up. “If you want to maintain output and production and keep up the pace, there’s a problem with the projection.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “That we will, as farmers, eventually run out of land to plant and keep up production.”

  Ryder rubbed the back of his neck considering that. “Wow, Nick and Jordan decided to expand two years ago by merging the land they already had with the Taggert property.”

  “Silas mentioned that. But I saw right off that we have the cliffs to the west, the road to the east, which means we’re locked in on the other two sides.”

  Ryder shook his head. “I take it you’ve gone over the numbers?”

  “Three times. I came up with the same thing.”

  “Then let’s check them again. If we come up with it the fourth time then one of us will have to meet with Nick and Jordan and plan to give them an update as to how things stand.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  October arrived the same day Fischer Robbins rolled into town driving his Volvo station wagon. After a trip cross country and a few dozen text messages to get him to Pelican Pointe, Fisch pulled up to Longboard Pizza to a welcome committee. Thane and Jonah were standing on the sidewalk eager for Fischer to get out of the car.

  “Man, it’s good to see you,” Thane said, throwing his arms around his friend in a hug.

  “Same here.”

  “Uncle Fisch!” Jonah yelled, jumping into the man’s arms. “Are you gonna stay with us?”

  Fischer fell back a step as if weighted down with more than he could handle. “That’s the plan. But who is this big guy? This can’t be Jonah otherwise he’s grown ten inches since I saw him last.”

  “I did not,” Jonah claimed. “Daddy measured me this morning. I’m still the same size as I was before.”

  “That can’t be,” the man insisted. “The Jonah I know is this little bitty guy who is so ticklish he squeals when I do this.” To prove his point, Fischer proceeded to tickle the boy wildly in the ribs before setting him back down on the sidewalk. “What’s new with you, shrimpster?”

  “I got a puppy named Jax. And
she has a sister named Jazz. Jazz is Izzy’s dog. We’re dog sitting for Izzy while she works. Wanna see them? The puppies are around the corner where the patio is. Wanna see?”

  “Sure. Jax is the name for a boy dog,” Fischer noted as they started around the other side of the building.

  “Not in our house,” Thane stated. “Tell me, how is it that it took you three days to make the drive here anyway? Seventy-two hours when it usually takes about forty-five.”

  “Maybe if I’d paid better attention to directions the last time I was here I might’ve cut several hours off the trip.”

  “Don’t give me that. You could’ve shipped your car and flown like Jonah and I did. That drive along I-80 is so boring I started to wonder if you’d fallen asleep at the wheel and got lost. I know you. What side trip did you take?”

  The big man sighed. “No big deal, just a little unplanned excursion outside Salt Lake City, a little detour to Wendover, Wyoming.”

  “What on earth for?”

  “There’s this sculpture there by Swedish artist, Karl Momen, I wanted to see.” Fischer took out his cell phone, slogged through a ton of images until he held the device out to Thane. “See, it’s an eighty-foot-high tree out in the middle of nowhere.”

  Thane stared at the photo, shook his head. “This is what you wanted to see? An ugly cement tree? You worry me sometimes, Fisch. You know that? Who else would drive out of their way to capture a picture of such a weird-looking monument? If you wanted to see something really unique, why not set your sights on the big ball of twine?”

  “Hey, laugh if you want but Momen’s sculpture is a kitschy, quirky abstract that shows what one artist decided to do to liven up an otherwise stark stretch of landscape in the middle of the desert.”

  “It’s a tall slab of cement with balls in the air.”

  “Such a critic. It’s more than that. It commemorates the desolation of the Great Salt Lake Desert using tons of native rock and minerals from the same area where the Donner Party once got stuck before they headed into the Sierra Nevada.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t try to follow the path.” Thane stared at his friend. “You did, didn’t you? You took off into the wilderness and that’s why it took you so long to get here.”

  “Not all the way, no. I wanted to see Momen’s Metaphor. He’s been compared to Kandinsky.”

  “Who?”

  “Kandinsky, the great Russian expressionist. Sheesh, you know nothing about art. I suppose you could do better?”

  “No, I wouldn’t even know how to top a concrete tree out in the middle of nowhere.”

  “Smartass.”

  About that time, Jonah came through the gate and dropped to his knees to hug the dogs. “See, Uncle Fisch, this one is Jax and this one is Jazz.”

  “Good-looking mutts. I can’t believe you sprang for a dog. Living here has turned you into a total Mr. Mom. If I hadn’t known you for ten years I wouldn’t recognize who you’ve become.”

  Thane slapped Fisch on the back and said, “You don’t know the half of it. Come on in. I’ll show you your new domain.” Holding the door for Fischer and Jonah, the three made their way inside and the bickering came to an abrupt halt when Fisch got a look at the restaurant.

  “The guys finished out the interior paint job yesterday afternoon. They used that quick-drying stuff. Troy hung the surfboard this morning.” Thane motioned toward a brightly colored red and yellow striped longboard suspended over the counter. He turned to Lilly as she worked on the wall with her paints. Thane introduced the two. “Lilly’s still in the process of working her magic on the mural and she’s just the person who might appreciate your photos of that Tree of Life in Utah.”

  “You have pictures of that, the one near the Bonneville Salt Flats?” Lilly asked, clearly impressed. “I urged Wally to take the kids out there this winter break on an adventure.”

  Fischer grinned. “I have a feeling I’m going to love the people in this town.”

  Fisch moved past the artist and near the counter area to stand under the hardwood surfboard with the logo and the words, “Longboard Pizza.”

  “Wow! What a difference. It’s hard to believe this is the same place I saw when I was here last.” Fischer took in the gleaming floor, the colorful walls, the rehabbed kitchen area and exclaimed, “This was nothing but an empty shell. These guys you hired must be miracle workers if they got this place ready on time.”

  “Pretty much. How do you like the work and prep areas? What do you think of the commercial range and refrigerator? Do they meet Your Highness’s long list of requirements?”

  “Hey, Delacourt, my pickiness is what’s going to save this joint from ruin before it ever opens.”

  They’d been friends long enough that the sarcasm between the two men was expected. Still, Thane was pleased when Fischer gave his nod of approval and turned to wrap him up in a hug.

  “This joint’s going to rock this town,” Fischer boasted.

  “Yeah, that’s what I hoped you’d say.”

  As soon as Isabella got off work she dropped by Longboard Pizza to pick up her dog. Her goal was to do a quick in-and-out and head home. But that turned out to be impossible as soon as she spotted Jonah playing with the puppies on the patio.

  The boy greeted her with a hug.

  “Was Jazz any trouble to watch?”

  “Nope, she was good, like Jax.”

  “How was school? Any trouble out of Bobby or Doug?”

  “Nope. Want to come in and meet my uncle Fischer?” Without waiting for a reply, Jonah took her hand and tugged her inside making an announcement of her arrival as soon as he hit the door. “Izzy’s here.”

  Meeting Fischer Robbins caused her to stick around longer than she intended to get acquainted with the new chef in town—or tried to. Despite his “just-arrived” state of mind, Fischer seemed already in his element. The guy had to be six-foot-three, almost equal in height to Thane. But as fair-haired as Thane was, Fischer was just the opposite. With coal black hair and huge warm brown eyes, he evoked the typical, brash New York attitude in voice and demeanor.

  She’d heard chefs could be quite temperamental. Fischer didn’t disprove that. But it seemed the man had taken to his new kitchen like a duck to water. She stood by watching him busy himself in his galley, organizing cookware and utensils. “Talk about hitting the ground running, you’re already getting organized?”

  Thane laughed and answered for his cook. “We got a shipment delivered ten minutes after Fisch pulled up to the curb. What you’re seeing now happens to be a Fischer Robbins’ trademark.”

  “He doesn’t like people to touch his stuff,” Jonah threw in.

  “That’s a fair statement,” Fischer said in agreement, turning to get a good look at the woman who’d captivated his friend.

  “He refuses to let anyone lift a finger to help put anything away. He has to have everything arranged just so, and refuses input from anyone else,” Thane explained from the sidelines where he’d been relegated. “The earlier you accept the fact that this guy’s a control freak when it comes to his cooking, the better off you’ll be.”

  “I see that. Like the rest of the town, I can’t wait to sample your New York-style pizza, especially your crust. I’m fairly picky about the texture.”

  “Since I’m a culinary genius, I’ll dazzle you with my dough. No pun intended,” Fischer shot back.

  “Have you thought about where you’ll get your supply of herbs and vegetables? Will you use fresh or frozen?”

  Fischer sent her a haughty stare. “I always use fresh. When I was here over the summer I checked out this farm out on the highway, north of town. That is, I think it was north of town. Anyway, it has a reputation for quality.”

  “Taggert Farms. And they’re organic,” Thane added.

  Isabella frowned. “But isn’t most of what they grow targeted for commercial use already headed to grocery stores? What you guys could use is a place to grow your own ingredients.”

>   Thane exchanged looks with the chef.

  Fischer raised his eyebrows in agreement. “I like this woman. She obviously recognizes the costs involved in running a kitchen. Not a bad idea at all.”

  “Maybe when you get your own place you’ll hunt for one with acreage,” Thane tossed out in jest.

  “I’m no farmer,” Fischer shot back. “Do you garden, Isabella? If I remember correctly, you’re the one who has all that room up on the cliffs.”

  She thought of her former life, the ex that used to go ballistic if she so much as ruined a nail from weeding. “I used to be able to grow things. I’m a little out of practice now though. I do know the value of using seasonal veggies to lower your costs. And that land on the cliffs isn’t mine. It belongs to Logan Donnelly.”

  “Ah, yes, the sculptor. I bet he’d appreciate my stopping to take pictures of the Tree of Utah.”

  “Karl Momen’s Metaphor? That Tree of Utah?” Isabella queried.

  Fischer flashed an “I told you so grin” in Thane’s direction and walked over to hand her his cell phone. “Take a look at these photos. I snapped the very treasure of a monument that embodies the pioneer spirit.”

  “Out in the middle of nowhere,” Thane said, unable to resist yanking Fischer’s chain.

  Isabella’s lips bowed up in a smile at the two who couldn’t seem to keep from giving each other a hard time. “You’re an interesting sort of renaissance man, Fischer Robbins.”

  “Ain’t that the truth? You know what they say, looks can be deceiving. Here’s a woman of obvious style and substance who appreciates a man of many talents,” the chef said.

  After that, a discussion broke out about the best available property around town suitable to growing a vegetable garden.