Love in Catalina Cove

by Brenda Jackson

  She could still feel the look he’d given her before leaving. His eyes had shone with male interest and when he’d shot her that half smile, a small dimple had appeared in one of his cheeks. She felt a stirring in the pit of her stomach whenever he looked at her.

  “I have some good news and I have some bad news,” Bryce said, returning to the table and interrupting her thoughts.

  “I prefer hearing the good news first,” Vashti said, taking a sip of her tea.

  A huge smile touched Bryce’s lips. “The good news is that I have a buyer for a house I’ve been trying to sell for almost a year.”

  Vashti returned her smile. “Bryce, that’s great. Congratulations.”

  “Thanks.”

  “So what’s the bad news?” Vashti then asked.

  “The buyer wants to close the deal right away. Today if possible. He’s leaving town later today for an extended trip out of the country, and I need to get back to my office to get the papers processed. That means I won’t be able to go with you to Shelby by the Sea.”

  Vashti shrugged, smiled. “No worries. I know how to get there on my own. Just drop me off at your place to get my car and I’ll be fine.”

  Bryce seemed to mull that over for a moment and then said, “I was hoping to go there with you.”

  Although Vashti had said no worries, she knew Bryce would worry. She and Bryce had talked about it last night. This would be Vashti’s first time back to Shelby since leaving town fourteen years ago. The hardest part was knowing that her aunt wouldn’t be opening that door with a welcoming and understanding smile and giving her a huge hug. Her aunt had always been there for her. She had understood her even when her parents hadn’t. Vashti had made sure her aunt left the inn at least a few times each year by bringing her to New York to visit or by going on cruises together.

  “I know, Bryce, but I can handle it. I’m a big girl.”

  Bryce nodded. “And what about that little red toy car? You won’t get another ticket, will you?”

  Vashti chuckled. “No, I won’t get another ticket.” She wouldn’t dare admit that the thought of getting pulled over again by Sheriff Grisham wasn’t so bad. “I won’t be at Shelby’s for long. I plan to be at the zoning board meeting on time and need to shower and change clothes first.”

  She stood. “Come on,” she said to Bryce. “You have things to do and so do I.”

  * * *

  “HOW WAS LUNCH, SHERIFF?” Trudy asked when he passed her desk.

  “Delicious as usual,” was his reply as he made his way to his office. The food had been delicious but he had concentrated on other things while eating it. Namely, another person.

  Before returning to the office he had driven around town to give himself time to get his thoughts back on track and to ponder what there was about Vashti Alcindor that captivated him. She was a good-looking woman, but he’d been in the presence of good-looking women before and none had ever gotten a reaction from him like she had.

  The story Trudy had told him about how the townsfolk had mistreated her just for getting pregnant had pulled at him because he knew how it felt to have people you cared about let you down. Like the Connors who’d taken him in at twelve, only to return him to social services a year later. He had liked them and their two children. He’d thought he had finally found a home. But then when money started missing from Mrs. Connor’s purse he had immediately become the guilty person. No one thought to question their oldest teenage son who Sawyer had known had a drug problem. But then he knew that episode with the Connors wasn’t why he was attracted to Vashti Alcindor. The attraction began before he’d heard the story. He clearly remembered picking up on it when he’d issued her that ticket yesterday.

  He was sitting at his desk and grabbing a stack of papers to go through when his cell phone rang. He recognized the number and smiled. Leesa was calling. Leesa Reddick was an old friend from the days they’d served in the Marines together. She hadn’t reenlisted after she got married and he and Leesa had lost touch. They had reconnected when he’d discovered through mutual military friends that she was living in New Orleans with her thirteen-year-old son. She had relocated there from Cincinnati after her husband, Todd, had gotten killed in a car accident three years earlier.

  Leesa was a wonderful person and someone he called a good friend...as well as an occasional lover for the past year. Leesa was the first and only woman he’d slept with since losing Johanna and he’d been her first after Todd’s death. They had a lot in common. Both ex-marines. He was a widower and she a widow. More importantly, neither of them planned to ever fall in love again and marry. What they shared was nothing more than what they referred to as RS, recreational sex. They were good friends who were convenient lovers for each other whenever the need for sexual fulfilment became overpowering for either of them.

  They had their own private getaway, a beautiful hotel in the New Orleans French Quarter. He’d never invited her to his home in the cove and she’d never invited him to hers. They preferred things that way. And because they both had kids, they’d never spent the night away from home. A few hours together during daytime were all they wanted and they didn’t feel the need to become enmeshed in each other’s lives. He liked the arrangement and so did she, with the understanding that in the interim if either of them met someone, they could end things with no hard feelings.

  He clicked on his cell phone. “How are you doing, Leesa?”

  “I’ll be better once I see you. We’re still on for Friday?”

  “We sure are.” They preferred meeting when their kids were in school. Stealing away during the summer months would be difficult.

  “Just name the time,” he said, forcing an image of Vashti Alcindor to the back of his mind.

  “How about noon? We can order room service.”

  He nodded. “I like that idea.”

  “Great! I’ll see you then.”

  After clicking off the phone he smiled thinking how his relationship with Leesa, although mostly sexual in nature, had helped him through those teenage woes with his daughter. Whenever he and Jade had a major disagreement it was Leesa who would help guide him through how the young female mind worked.

  Likewise, Leesa claimed he helped her as well. When her son, Nelson, had been going through what seemed to be the beginning of the unmanageable teen years, Sawyer had been there to offer her advice on how to not only cope but to rein him in so he wouldn’t be lost to her forever.

  He glanced at his watch. He had a few hours before leaving for the zoning board meeting and there were a lot of items he needed to clear off his desk before then. Rolling up his sleeves he began working.

  * * *

  VASHTI TURNED THE little red Corvette onto Buccaneer Lane, the tree-lined street that led to Shelby by the Sea. Moments later she pulled into the long driveway of the large historic mansion with the well-manicured lawn that sat on the gulf. Years ago, as a registered nurse, her aunt Shelby had been the caretaker of the mansion’s owner, Hawthorn Barlowe.

  Vashti didn’t remember Mr. Barlowe but others in the community did. She recalled the stories of everyone saying he was a mean, crabby and wealthy old man who didn’t get along with anyone. Especially his neighbors who bordered his property, the Lacroixes. Evidently her aunt was able to break through the old man’s meanness because when he died with no living relatives, he had bequeathed the mansion and all the land surrounding it to Aunt Shelby.

  Her aunt decided to make the twenty-guestroom mansion, built in 1905, into a bed-and-breakfast and named it Shelby by the Sea. Vashti was told that within a year the inn had become so popular, newlyweds would come from all over the country to spend their honeymoon there and married couples checked in to reignite the flame in their marriage. Vashti brought the car to a stop and as she stared at the huge structure she swallowed her misgivings and was surprised she had any at all. But then how could she not? Sh
e had considered this place more her home than her parents’ house.

  Vashti had talked to her aunt often and hadn’t known how run-down Shelby by the Sea had gotten until Bryce had told her. The inn had been close to shutting down and her aunt had only a bare-bones staff with few reservations. Whenever she asked, her aunt would tell her all was going well, but after Aunt Shelby’s sudden death of a heart attack and Vashti’d gotten Bryce to put the inn up for sale had she only found out the truth.

  Shelby by the Sea, which had once been one of the premier places in the cove, had fallen in more despair than Vashti had known. After Bryce checked the books it was discovered over the past couple of years there had been fewer and fewer reservations. Why? How? And why hadn’t her aunt told her?

  Vashti had used her aunt’s life insurance money to give the few employees left, some of whom had been with her aunt for years, a severance package. She’d felt it had been the decent thing to do. According to Bryce, the majority of the people had found other employment elsewhere in town.

  In the past her aunt had depended on word of mouth advertising of the inn’s reputation to build and retain business. She had a feeling her aunt had never embraced the social media age or the idea of brand ambassadors with the use of a marketing firm.

  Even with the obvious needed repairs, the inn was more impressive than she remembered. It was massive, stately and beautiful. It held so much of Catalina Cove’s history since it had been in the Barlowe family for generations. Some claimed Mr. Barlowe’s great-great-grandfather had been one of Jean LaFitte’s right-hand men and LaFitte had awarded the man the land the mansion sat on for his loyalty.

  Vashti couldn’t imagine anyone tearing it down to build anything else here and in a way she understood the town for trying to block it from happening. A part of her knew her aunt would probably not want it to happen either.

  She quickly pushed that thought from her mind. The structure no longer belonged to her aunt. It was hers to do whatever she wanted with and she wanted to sell it. Even if she entertained the thought of keeping it, she didn’t have the money it would take to bring the inn back to the grandiose place it had once been. Besides, her life was in New York now. Convincing the zoning board to remove their restrictions was her top priority and what the buyer decided to do with it was no concern of hers. But still...

  She remembered the good times she used to have here. Shelby by the Sea had once been her lifeline. When she and her parents hadn’t seen eye to eye during her pregnancy, it had been her home. Aunt Shelby had always been her champion. Someone who’d understood her when her parents had not. And this inn had given her an escape when she had needed it most.

  And she’d never forget that the property adjacent to the inn was where her child had been conceived. At sixteen she was convinced she was in love and the thought of sneaking around behind her parents’ backs seemed like no big deal at the time. It had been first love. Innocent love. Until one day during a picnic in the marshes by the sea, at what they thought of as their private place, things had gotten out of hand, passion had overtaken good sense and neither of them had been prepared for it. Nor had they been prepared for how their lives had changed afterward.

  Pushing those memories to the back of her mind, she opened the door to get out of the car. Even with the For Sale sign posted near the street, it was hard to tell the inn was vacant. It had that open-for-business look. Vashti glanced at the huge wooden front door, expecting it to swing open and for her aunt to step out, directly into the sunlight with a huge smile on her face and a welcoming glint in her eyes. But she knew that wouldn’t happen. Shelby Riggs was no longer here.

  She glanced down at the ground a moment, feeling her aunt’s absence more deeply now than when she’d gotten the call from her parents that her aunt had died. It had been a shock since Vashti had just spoken with her the night before. It was their usual routine to talk to each other every Saturday night and the topics of conversation were to be anything other than the cove. That was why Vashti hadn’t known about the town’s new sheriff or that Kaegan had returned home. So they discussed other things like fashion, her work, the inn, movies and when they would take their next trip together.

  Vashti missed those calls. Now more than ever she appreciated the times she and her aunt had managed to spend together over the years. It was sad that she and her mother had never developed that same closeness. It was as if after getting pregnant her mother couldn’t stand being around her at times. She knew she had let her parents down, had caused them embarrassment in town, but she hadn’t expected them to blame her for everything. Her father had wanted the name of the boy who had gotten her pregnant, and when she’d refused to give it to him all hell had broken loose in the Alcindor household. That’s when they began making plans for her, although she hadn’t agreed with any of them. Nothing she said would change their minds. Even Aunt Shelby tried reasoning with them and offered to take care of the baby while she finished school. But her parents didn’t want to hear anything. She had agreed to go to the unwed home, but she never signed any papers to give her child up for adoption. Her baby had been born a few weeks early and due to complications at birth, her son hadn’t lived.

  Lifting her head up, Vashti looked into the sky as the sound of the gulf filled her ears. The sky was a beautiful blue and the few clouds she could see appeared a snowy white. A part of her believed at that moment her aunt was looking down at her smiling. Or was she? Did Aunt Shelby have anything to smile about knowing Vashti had decided to let someone destroy the home that had meant so much to her?

  Vashti bristled at the thought, reminding herself that at no time had her aunt asked her to not sell the place. But still, there was that niggling thought that wouldn’t let her be now that she was here. Was it something her aunt just assumed she wouldn’t do?

  She rubbed a hand down her face, hating she’d begun second-guessing her decision. Especially when ten million dollars were at stake. That was the only reason she had returned to the cove and no matter what, she must not forget it. Nothing else would have brought her back here.

  Turning, she moved toward the steps, taking them two at a time like she’d always done. Bryce had given her the code to the Realtor lockbox and within seconds she was opening the door to go inside. Although the house had been closed up for a while, the scent of gardenias was in the air. It was a good smell and one she remembered. It came from all the gardenia bushes planted around the side of the house. Magnolias were another of her aunt’s favorite flowering trees and you would catch their scent when you walked in the backyard toward the gazebo.

  Vashti stepped from the foyer into the living room parlor and glanced around. All the furniture was covered. Now that she knew if the Barnes Group did buy the inn they would tear it down, she hoped they planned to sell all the furnishings. Most of it was costly and were original pieces.

  “Stay focused,” she told herself after seeing how run-down the place looked. Paint was peeling off the walls and there were brown stains on the ceiling that indicated some type of water damage. The inn had been vacant for about six months. At least it hadn’t been vandalized or anything and she was grateful for that. She headed for the stairs, deciding to check out the kitchen and dining room later. “Whatever the developer decides to do is not your business. Remain detached from this place,” she muttered to herself.

  When she reached the landing to the second floor everything looked the same. Like downstairs, paint was peeling off the walls and she noticed a number of items needed to be placed on a “to be repaired” list. In addition to the bedrooms downstairs, there were ten bedrooms on the second floor, five on the third floor, and two huge studio-sized bedrooms on the fourth. The majority of the bedrooms faced the cove and provided a panoramic view of the gulf. From there you could see the boardwalk that led to the beach. She recalled when that boardwalk had been constructed with steps that led down the marshy path to the cove. In the evening lan
terns were timed to come on at dusk to light the path. Vashti remembered how she would sit on those boardwalk steps for hours to stare out at the gulf.

  She took the stairs down to the living room. Too many feelings were crushing down on her, but she refused to give in to emotions she wasn’t ready to deal with.

  Squaring her shoulders, instead of moving toward the front door, she turned toward her aunt’s bedroom. She stopped in the doorway and drew in a deep breath. The room didn’t smell of gardenias but of vanilla, her aunt’s favorite scent. Vashti was convinced the aroma had seeped through the floors and walls. Inhaling it now reminded her so much of her aunt and so many cherished memories.

  She’d always loved her aunt’s bedroom with the massive bed and complementing furnishing. The triple windows provided a beautiful view of a number of oak trees covered in Spanish moss. There was also the gazebo where many weddings had been held over the years. With the gulf as a backdrop, it was the perfect place for such celebrations. Leaving her aunt’s room she saw the guestroom that had been Vashti’s. Same furnishings, same decor and noted repairs needed.

  She glanced at the trophy rack her aunt had bought to hold all the trophies Vashti had received in baton twirling. There were a number of them for all the years she’d aced the competitions and had once even gone on to win the national championship before finishing high school. Funny, she hadn’t twirled a baton in years. She knew somewhere in this room she would find her baton.

  Vashti smiled when she saw it hanging on a rack on the wall. She was not surprised her aunt had kept it and her trophies. When the inn was officially sold, she wasn’t sure what she would do with them. She could donate the trophies to her high school since she’d represented them at all the competitions. The baton was hers. It had been a gift from her aunt on her tenth birthday along with six months of baton-twirling lessons. Her instructor had convinced her parents she was a natural and should continue the lessons and so they had.