Reluctantly, Claire slipped her hand into his. His palm was large and warm, with interesting callouses along the knuckles. She gave him a firm handshake, refusing to show even the slightest bit of weakness. Chin held high, she answered, “I am. Claire Turner.”
“I’m Rob Bradford. I own the bakery across the street. Do you have a minute to talk?”
So, he was the owner. Claire hadn’t wanted to believe Jane. She wanted the owner to be the soft, balding, work-avoiding guy that she envisioned getting out of his flashy red car with the blond trophy wife. This guy didn’t look anything like that.
She took her phone out of her pocket, quickly checking the time left on the cupcakes she was baking. Seven minutes and counting. She stuffed the phone back into the pocket of her apron and looked Rob Bradford in the eyes, which—her brain happened to inform her, even though she really didn’t want to know—were a pleasingly deep sapphire blue. “I only have seven minutes. Let’s talk outside.”
Something flashed across his face, indefinable and gone in an instant, but it left something niggling in the back of Claire’s mind. The expression had reminded her of something, but she couldn’t think of what.
The sky had darkened. Appropriate for their meeting, Claire thought as she led him to the farthest table she’d set out on the walkway and sat across from him. Her fingers itched for something to do. Rather than drum them on the table, she linked her hands together in front of her and resisted the urge to look at the timer on her phone.
He flashed her a charming smile that emphasized the cleft in his chin, and she got a funny feeling of déjà vu. “So, I suppose you’ve noticed that I’m opening soon.”
Claire raised a brow. Did the guy think she was blind? “Of course. Is that why you came over?”
His smile faltered. Clearly he’d been expecting her to fall for his charms. The bakery owners that he’d surely put out of business in the other towns he’d infiltrated probably crumbled at those perfect teeth and the appealing crinkles around his eyes. He probably expected her to do the same and acquiesce to his plan for town dominance of baked goods.
Claire smiled inwardly knowing that her frosty response had thrown him off balance.
He cleared his throat. “I was thinking we should team up. If we combine our efforts, we could both benefit. Take the sale—there’s no reason customers visiting the grand opening of my store won’t want to step across the road and pick up a batch of cupcakes and vice versa. We can help one another.”
Sure they could. Claire imagined how he would maneuver things in his favor. If they worked together, he would know more about her resources. He would be able to figure out ways to hurt her business. That wasn’t going to happen, but she didn’t want to let on that she was on to him—better to let him think she was naive and unaware of his plans.
With a tight smile, she told him, “I’ll think about it. Right at the moment, though, I’m very busy.”
He looked surprised at her bluntness. Frankly she couldn’t blame him. She had come off a bit ruder than she’d intended. Oh well, better to let him know right off the bat that they were not going to be friends.
As she stood, he did too. He flashed her an uncertain smile. That time a dimple winked in and out of life in his left cheek, making him seem almost boyish. Something in his blue eyes, a twinkle, brought back memories.
It was him. Bobby from under the cedar tree. That one magical kiss of her youth that she’d never forgotten. He was standing right in front of her, thirty-five years later.
Memories of that night came rushing back to her, as if she were there again: the darkness sheltering their shyness and making them braver, her heart fluttering in her throat as she leaned into the kiss, the hope that she would see him again the next day, get to know him better, steal another kiss.
But then there was the bitter disappointment she’d felt at not finding him on the beach or in town the next day, the next night, all through the next week. She’d learned through a friend of a friend that he and his family had left Lobster Bay. Their vacation had ended. He hadn’t said goodbye. He hadn’t made contact with her again.
And even if their kiss had predated the days of Facebook or cell phones and she’d been too swept up to remember to give him her number, he could have found her if he’d only put in a little effort. If anything, the way he’d kissed her and left town without a second thought only proved that he wasn’t to be trusted.
She realized that she was standing in front of him, gawking, not saying a word. He appeared to be too absorbed in his own thoughts to call her on her peculiar behavior. His forehead was wrinkled with concentration, that teasing look replaced with something else. Something pensive.
He tucked his hands into his pockets, curling his shoulders inward like he was a sheepish teenager. “There’s something familiar about you. Have we met before?”
Panic surfaced. She couldn’t let him know she remembered. That might give him an advantage. And maybe her pride was a bit wounded that he’d never made an effort to contact her. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing she remembered that long-ago kiss.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Have you been to Lobster Bay before?”
“I have. It was a long time ago, when I was a teenager. I vacationed here with my family. I think I met a girl named Claire.”
“Really? Huh, I don’t remember you, but there are a lot of girls named Claire. I’m sure it wasn’t me.”
He stared at her for a few more seconds then smiled again. “Sorry. You seemed familiar.”
She cleared her throat and turned away. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a business to run. I’ll think about your offer to work together.”
She managed to reach the door to her bakery without turning back to look at him, but as she opened it, the itch between her shoulder blades grew unbearable. She turned to pull the door shut behind her, taking the opportunity to look at him one more time. He stepped off the curb to cross the street, his strides long and confident. His polo shirt clung to his shoulders, framing the line of his body as he crossed smoothly toward his store on long legs.
One thing was for sure, he hadn’t lost any of his good looks in the past thirty-five years. If anything, he’d filled out from the lanky teenager into a distinguished man who probably drew the eye of any woman with a pulse.
That included Sally, who lurked by the doorway, watching him leave, and made an appreciative sound under her breath. Claire sighed, then her brows snapped together.
What was burning?
Jerking the phone from her pocket, she checked her timer only to find that she had turned it on silent by accident. Her alarm had already gone off.
Oh no—my cupcakes!
When Rob had left Lobster Bay on that last vacation thirty-five years ago, he’d been fresh with the memory of his first real kiss and eager to return and find that girl again. He’d kicked himself all the way home in the backseat of his parents’ car for not asking for her phone number. But he’d been fifteen. He’d been nervous. He hadn’t really known how to broach that subject or how his shy attempts at flirting had led to that one magical kiss.
Then his mom had gotten sick, and more important things had occupied his thoughts. But every once in a while, the memory would surface, and he would be looking into those gold-flecked hazel eyes again. The same eyes that Claire Turner had. He was positive Claire was the girl he had never forgotten, but apparently, she’d forgotten all about him.
She had changed. Her face and body had matured, but her eyes hadn’t. And her auburn hair—he remembered that, too, though now it was shot through with silver—was the same rich color that shone like copper in the sunlight. How had he not recognized her from the second he saw her?
Now, more than ever, he wanted to work together with her. Meeting her again was a sign. He was doing the right thing moving to Lobster Bay, making his fresh start where he had some of his fondest memories.
And even though Claire didn’t remember him
, it might be like a second chance. The timing was right. He hadn’t been able to even think about starting over with someone else after Caroline died, but now it was five years later. He was lonely. It was time. Claire didn’t remember him, but that was okay. He wasn’t fifteen anymore. He wasn’t a nervous kid. He was a man who knew how to capture the attention of a woman.
If only she wasn’t so intent on hating his guts.
Chapter Fourteen
Idiot, idiot, idiot. As Claire tossed cupcake after cupcake into the trash, the refrain flashed across her mind. She shouldn’t have even given Rob or Robbie or whatever his name was the time of day, let alone the more than ten minutes she’d allotted him. Where had the time gone? It seemed as though they’d been talking for only two or three minutes.
Two or three tense minutes.
Frustrated at finding every single one of the cupcakes she had in the oven charred, she upended the muffin tray and dumped them into the trash. Several bounced off the rim and scattered over the floor. As she bent to retrieve them, thunder rumbled in the distance. Her pipes creaked ominously in response, as if they were communicating with the building storm. Claire swore under her breath as she went on all fours to collect the chocolate cupcake that had rolled beneath the table she used for mixing and rolling. She fished it out and plopped it into the trash with the others.
She carried the muffin trays over to the sink to scrub away the charred remnants of cupcake batter. As the sink filled with hot, soapy water, her phone rang. Jane’s name popped up as the phone continued to ring in her palm. Jane never called during business hours. She always texted.
A foreboding feeling pinched her gut as Claire answered the phone. “Jane?”
“Oh my God. Claire!” Jane’s voice was thin and shrill. She sounded close to tears.
“I’m here. What’s wrong?”
“Please tell me you’ve seen my mom.”
“Addie? No. Why?” That feeling in Claire’s gut pulled it into a tighter knot. “Did something happen?” In her heart, she already knew the answer.
“She’s gone. I can’t find her. Please, I need help.”
“I’ll be there in five minutes. Don’t panic.”
As Claire hung up the phone, she heard another peal of thunder. Without even bothering to take off her apron, Claire bolted for the front of the shop.
Hailey looked up at her, her forehead creased. “Claire? What is it?”
“I know you’re about to leave, but I need you to stay on for a little while longer. There’s been an emergency.”
“An emergency?” The younger woman’s eyes were round.
Claire swallowed and nodded, struggling to maintain her composure. Jane’s panic had infected her. Addie would be fine. She had probably only wandered off to a spot where no one thought to look. But with the growing storm, that could be dangerous. If she’d wandered down to the beach… “Adelaide from Tides has wandered off. Jane is putting together a search group.”
At least she assumed Jane was doing that. Jane couldn’t search everywhere by herself. She’d called Claire, so she must have called Maxi too. Maxi had a head for organization. The first thing she would think of was organizing a search party. Even if that search party only consisted of Jane, Claire, Maxi, and Brenda. They would find Addie before anything bad happened. They had to.
“Go,” Hailey said. “I’ll call Mrs. Pease.”
“If you can’t stay, just close up shop. Business will be slow with a storm anyway.”
Claire might lose a few sales, but this was much more important.
Despite the cold wind now whipping in from the ocean, Claire bolted for her Vespa.
Word must have spread fast, as a dozen people were already at Tides ready to help. Jane stood on the porch, one hand clutching the hood of her raincoat to her head, the other pointing in various directions as she organized the search. She vibrated with nerves, her eyes scanning the small group of people as they broke into pairs to search the grounds and beach. Claire parked her Vespa and joined Jane on the porch.
Fat raindrops had just started to fall. It was going to be an interesting ride back on the Vespa if the storm didn’t blow through.
“What do you want me to do?”
Jane turned to her, despair clear on her face.
Claire enveloped her in a hug. “We’ll find her. I promise. Where do you want me to look?”
Jane pushed herself taller, sniffling. “I don’t know. Maxi took a group down to the neighbors on all sides to see if they’ve seen Mom. I want to go, too, but what if she comes back?”
Claire had never seen her friend look so lost, so helpless. She squeezed Jane’s arm. “Staying here is a good decision. If she comes back, you can text us and let us know so we can too.”
Jane swallowed hard. “With the storm, what if…?”
“We’ll find her,” Claire said with feeling.
“I’ve been sending people out in pairs, just in case something happens. You know how quickly thunderstorms can sweep up and how treacherous the beach can be, especially if there’s lightning. I don’t want anyone to go out alone. It’s dangerous.”
“Don’t worry about me. I can go alone. In fact, I know where I want to look.”
“Where is that?”
The male voice made the hairs on the back of Claire’s neck stand on end. She hadn’t realized that someone had come up behind them. She turned, back straight, to face Rob Bradford.
To her surprise, he looked as concerned as Jane was. Claire noticed the grateful look on her friend’s face. Of course another hand in the search was welcome. She would have to set aside her feelings toward her competitor for Jane’s sake. Finding Addie was the important thing.
Rob must have noticed the questioning look on Claire’s face. “I heard about Adelaide in town. I want to help. I have experience with dementia.”
He and Jane shared something unspoken, and she nodded.
When Jane turned to her, Claire was proud of the confidence she projected, even if the truth was far from it.
“You’ll go with Claire, then. Claire, you don’t mind?”
“It’s fine,” she said without looking at the man standing next to her. She pushed her hair out of her eyes. “Let’s go. We’re wasting time standing here.” She turned, taking off down the beach without waiting for him.
Rob fell into step beside her without question. “Where to?”
“Addie used to take Claire and me to the beach all the time as children. There’s a spot just north of here, a pool in low tide where we would find small fish, hermit crabs, seashells, that sort of thing. It’s cut off from the ocean itself by this rocky shore, so we weren’t in danger of getting swept out to sea. We’d go every week, sometimes more often.”
As Claire spoke, she was already leading him away from the white Victorian house and down the narrow path to the beach below. She hadn’t visited that pool since she was a teenager, preferring to walk on the beach or along the Marginal Way. The spot was close enough to Tides for the community to consider it Adelaide’s property and tucked in between dunes and rocky outcrops, which discouraged tourists.
Thunder rumbled overhead, and the ocean spat fingers of spray at them. It slickened the rocks over which she led Rob, who neither complained nor hovered at her elbow like an overprotective mother duck. At the bottom of the path, they came to a crude footbridge of flat wooden boards. The bridge crossed over the dunes to the alcove where the pool lay.
Rain pummeled them, soaking Claire’s hair and sending bedraggled strands in front of her eyes. At least she’d thought to put on her raincoat. Despite the pounding in her heart, she moved more slowly, testing each foot in front of the other. Between the sheets of rain, she squinted, hoping to see a familiar figure.
What if Adelaide wasn’t there? What if no one found her in time and she was washed out to sea?
Lightning split the sky, sharpening the dim scenery. Not far, on a flat rock overlooking the pool, a shadow moved.
“A
ddie!”
Claire bolted for the pool, waving her hands for balance as she navigated the slippery rock-lined path that had changed in subtle ways since she was a girl. The entire time, she never looked away from that shape.
It resolved into Adelaide sitting on the rock with her shoulders hunched and her knees to her chest like a little girl. She’d lost one of her shoes. The other one hung impotently from her toe. When she saw Claire, she reared back, startled.
Claire stopped. Rain drizzled down the back of her neck into her shirt. The chill made her shiver. “Addie, it’s me, Claire. Jane is looking for you. It’s time to come home.”
Addie looked at Claire as if she didn’t know her. What was she supposed to do? She didn’t want to scare Addie, but the tide was coming in fast, and the rain would only make the path more treacherous.
Rob knelt at Addie’s feet, putting his head at the same level as hers. “What did you do to your foot?” His voice was soft, warm, patient despite the rain pelting down on him.
“I stepped on a rock and lost my shoe. Does it look bad?” Addie’s voice was small.
“Let me see.” Slowly, he stretched out his arm, watching the old woman for cues that she might bolt. When he touched her naked foot, she jerked it back but otherwise showed no signs of fear.
Only then did Claire notice the gash in the bottom of Addie’s foot. How much worse could it have been if they hadn’t found her?
“Nothing a Band-Aid won’t fix,” Rob pronounced.
Claire was fairly certain he was lying. The cut looked deep enough to need stitches.
“But we need to get you home first. If you can’t walk, will you let me carry you?”
Adelaide looked at him through lowered lashes, shy. “I’m sure I’m too heavy for you.”
He laughed. “A little bird like you?”
Addie glanced up at him from under her lashes. Despite the cut, it didn’t seem to be hurting her too much. Claire couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Her heart was in her throat, and she was afraid to speak, afraid to confuse the old woman further.
Saving Sandcastles Page 8