by Irene Hannon
He listened as Jarrod launched into an enthusiastic recap of the latest adventure novel Lindsey had recommended, three levels higher than his current grade. The boy’s reading skills had soared in the past few weeks. Another gratifying outcome of their tutoring sessions.
As they finished their lemonades and Cindy showed him out, Jarrod followed him to his car, then stood awkwardly, hands in pockets as they said their goodbyes. At the last second, though, the boy surprised him with a quick hug, then backed off and dipped his head to hide the telltale blush as he spoke.
“Thanks again. For everything. I sure wish you were staying.”
Throat tightening, Nate squeezed the boy’s shoulder. “I appreciate that.”
And as he climbed into his car, he couldn’t help hoping that if all went as he planned, a certain shopkeeper would respond with an impulsive hug of her own—and a similar sentiment.
Chapter Thirteen
Lindsey eased through the door of the Orchid Café, which was more packed than usual for Saturday lunch, the customers shoulder-to-shoulder in the small foyer area as they waited for seats. A quick scan told her Nate wasn’t among the diners who’d already been served, confirming what the absence of his car in the parking lot had already implied—he wasn’t around. For a man who’d said he wanted to talk, he was certainly making himself scarce. And he couldn’t have lost interest. Not based on that kiss two days ago in the Orchid office.
At the mere thought of that cozy encounter, a flush of embarrassment warmed her cheeks. What in the world had come over her? Nate might have initiated the embrace, but she was the one who’d taken it to the next level, despite her reservations about their future. Talk about acting completely out of character. Not that he’d seemed to mind, although…
“Lindsey? Is that you back there?”
At Genevieve’s query, Lindsey waved at the older woman. “Yes. Quite a crowd today.”
“I’ve got a counter spot if you’re alone.”
Truth be told, the only thing she was hungry for was Nate’s company. But maybe Genevieve could enlighten her about his vanishing act.
“That’ll work.”
Edging sideways through the crowd, she tried not to step on too many toes. Once she emerged from the crush, she followed Genevieve to the counter and slid onto the one empty stool.
“My goodness. I can’t recall ever having such a busy Saturday, except the time that movie company came up here to film for a few days. That was back when you were still in Sacramento. Best I can tell from doing a little eavesdropping, most of these folks heard about The Point in the media and came up to take a look. Might be a few donations out there.” She winked and gestured to the Save the Point brochures Lindsey had arranged to have printed. “I’m handing them out with every bill. What’s the tally now?”
“Close to twenty-five thousand, as of last night.”
“Mercy! That’s a chunk of change. And to think it all started with that piece Nate wrote.”
The perfect opening.
Lindsey made a project of unwrapping her silverware from the paper napkin. “I haven’t seen him in the past couple of days.”
“Oh. I thought you knew. He left this morning for Chicago.”
The fork slipped out of her fingers and clattered to the floor.
Heart pounding, she slid off the stool and bent to retrieve it. Nate was gone? Without a word?
A sense of déjà vu swept over her. Surely history wasn’t repeating itself.
“No. I hadn’t heard that.” She grabbed the fork and retook her seat.
“Here, let me replace that for you.” Genevieve gave her a knowing look, tugged the fork from her fingers, and pulled a clean one from below the counter. “He said he had some business to take care of. I don’t think he plans to be gone for more than a day or two.”
Lindsey let out a relieved breath.
He was coming back.
“You didn’t think he’d up and leave without saying goodbye, did you?”
At Genevieve’s slightly reproving tone, a wave of guilt crashed over Lindsey. “No. That wouldn’t be like him.”
“It surely wouldn’t.” Genevieve retrieved a sponge from below the counter and swiped at an imaginary speck on the spotless surface, using that as an excuse to lean close and speak more softly so the diners on either side of Lindsey wouldn’t hear. “But he will be leaving soon. Unless someone gives him an incentive to stay. As my grandma Wilson always used to say, when the Lord sends an opportunity your way, have the good sense to recognize it.”
“Genevieve! Tony’s going down for the third time.” Lillian bustled over, a stack of menus in hand. “Unless you want to lose the best kitchen helper we’ve ever had, you better get back there and pitch in. I’ll handle the hostess duties. But if this keeps up, we’re going to have to hire more help!”
Without waiting for her sister to respond, Lillian hurried toward the front door.
“Duty calls.” Genevieve pulled out an order pad. “What’ll you have, Lindsey?”
“Scrambled eggs to go with my scrambled brain?”
The older woman grinned at her rueful inflection. “I’ll bring you a chicken Caesar salad. You missed the boat on breakfast.” She wrote on the pad, tore off the sheet and winked. “Just don’t miss the boat with Nate.”
With that, she pushed through the door to the kitchen.
“Lindsey!”
Her mind still on Nate, it took Lindsey a few seconds to shift gears after Susan Peroni called out to her. As she turned toward the mayor, the woman said a few words to her husband, who continued toward the door while his wife joined Lindsey at the counter.
“What’s up, Susan?”
“I had a call from Louis Mattson while Dale and I were eating. He saw your interview on the news, and he’s been reading the articles that have been cropping up about The Point. The PR backlash has apparently made him rethink the project. He asked if we could defer making plans for a citizen vote at our meeting next week and instead let him come back to discuss the project again with residents. I’m going to send an email out to the council members this morning. And we’ll need to put up flyers around town and at the Mercantile. I expect we’ll have another full house.” Twin creases appeared on the woman’s brow. “I have a feeling he’s going to withdraw his proposal for a development.”
Though tempted to cheer, Lindsey did her best to maintain a neutral expression. “If he does, we’ll survive.”
Susan shot her a disgruntled look. “I know this is what you wanted. And I love The Point, too. But sometimes love isn’t reason enough to preserve something. Not if there are greater benefits in letting it go.”
“I’m not certain there are.”
The mayor regarded her. “Did you know Janice is thinking about closing her gallery?”
Lindsey blinked. “No.”
“It’s not public knowledge. Janice mentioned it a few days ago when I stopped in to buy one of those handmade greeting cards she sells. There’s not enough business in Starfish Bay to cover her expenses and provide her with a living wage. But there might be if we had an upscale resort nearby.”
Susan let that sink in for a moment before she continued. “And Janice isn’t the only one struggling in this tough economy. It seems to me part of our responsibility as council members is to do everything we can to make this community not only an appealing place to live, but a viable place to do business. Don’t you?”
Guilt tugged at Lindsey’s conscience. “Yes. But on the flip side, don’t we have a responsibility to preserve the natural beauty of this place for future generations?”
“Assuming there’s still a town here for future generations to live in. Dennis is having financial issues at the fishing camp, too. So is Jaz.” Susan adjusted the strap of her bulging shoulder purse. “Well, I’ll get the notices printed up and drop off a few at the Mercantile. Spread the word about the meeting, okay?”
“Sure.”
As Susan wove through the tables, Li
ndsey swiveled back to the counter. Her gaze fell on the placemat, which featured a slogan the sisters had written soon after they opened the café.
Wish upon a star in Starfish Bay—where dreams come true.
Was Susan right? Were the dreams of a lot of people—like Janice and Dennis and Jaz—about to go belly-up? Would Inn at The Point save them?
Yet if it did, other dreams would die. Starfish Bay Chapel and the headland—a touchstone for many residents—would disappear. Should those irreplaceable assets be sacrificed on the altar of economic prosperity?
A few weeks ago, her answer would have been an unequivocal no. But if Janice and Dennis and Jaz were in trouble, others were, too. Even the Mercantile was feeling the pinch. So where did her loyalties lie—with the town, or with the touchstone?
For the first time, a niggle of doubt undermined Lindsey’s resolve to save the chapel and The Point. Strange, when the tide of opinion now appeared to be turning in her favor.
Genevieve slid her salad in front of her, but as Lindsey picked up her fork and poked at the chicken, her appetite evaporated. What was she supposed to do? Stick with her original plan and fight the development? Or put practicality above principle?
And she was equally confused on the personal front. She’d kissed Nate two days ago, sending a clear message she cared for him. She’d panicked this morning when she’d thought he’d left. Yet she also felt panicked about pursuing a relationship with him. Would he end up in a body bag on some distant battlefield? Would she find herself alone in Chicago, as she had in Sacramento, forced to once again pick up the pieces of her shattered life and start over?
Lindsey closed her eyes and gave up any pretense of eating.
Lord, please show me what to do so I don’t make a mistake with either Nate or The Point that I’ll spend the rest of my life regretting.
“That’s an interesting proposal, Nate. And I’m impressed you came all the way back here to present it in person…at your own expense.”
One side of Clark Gunn’s mouth hitched up as he tacked on the final four words, and Nate flashed him an answering grin. His editor was notoriously tight with the Tribune’s money—and his own—an idiosyncrasy often joked about by the reporters and staff. His legendary frugality was, in fact, one of the reasons Nate had made this quick trip. This discussion was too important to be relegated to phone or email, and he wanted Clark to know that.
“So what do you think?” Nate’s pulse tripped into double time, much as it had whenever things got dicey during a dangerous recon assignment in Afghanistan. There’d always been a risk he could be shot down on one of those missions. Just as his proposal could be shot down on this one.
“You sure this is what you want?”
“Yes.”
Clark studied him. “I’m not going to ask, but I’m guessing there’s a woman involved. Someone you’re willing to change your life for after a handful of weeks.”
His boss had been a formidable investigative reporter in his day, with rock-solid intuition. Nate wasn’t surprised the man had come to the correct conclusion. But neither did he intend to provide details.
“There’s more to the story than that.”
“Good to know. You’ve never struck me as the impetuous type. And I’d hate to see you make such a dramatic change only to later regret it.” Clark tapped his pen on the desk. “You sure you wouldn’t rather extend your leave a few weeks, think things through more thoroughly? I could arrange that.”
“Thanks for the offer. But I’ve already thought this through.”
“Okay.” He leaned forward in his chair, set his pen down and propped his elbows on the desk. “I’d rather have what you’re offering than nothing at all. But this isn’t a decision I can make. I need to run it by Frank. He might want to talk to you, too. He’s out until tomorrow afternoon, though. How long are you staying?”
Nate had assumed Clark would need to confer with the managing editor on this. But he hadn’t counted on extending his stay. He had an appointment on Wednesday on the West Coast he didn’t want to postpone.
“I was planning to fly out tonight. I can delay thirty-six hours. No more.”
One of Clark’s bushy gray eyebrows rose. “She must be some woman.” When Nate didn’t respond, the older man chuckled and picked up his ringing phone. “I’ll let you know as soon as I talk to Frank. And we’re running the piece on kids who’ve lost parents next week. It was even better on a second read-through. Should resonate with a lot of people.”
“Thanks.” Nate rose.
“Any more think pieces in the hopper?” He put the phone to his ear.
“Yeah. Depending on what Frank says.”
Lifting a hand in dismissal, Clark barked his last name into the phone. Nate’s cue to leave.
Less than five minutes later, he emerged onto Michigan Avenue. The cacophony of big-city sounds he’d once found energizing, the tall concrete towers that had once seemed glamorous, could no longer compare to the quiet of a small northern California town where the highest thing in sight was a soaring redwood.
He was even immune to the interested glance of a passing twenty-something woman wearing a fashionably short skirt and skinny high heels. Compared to Lindsey? No contest. Clark had been right about the motivation for his proposal.
And if all went well here and in Arcata on Wednesday, the major obstacles Lindsey had to their relationship should be history.
“You’re awful quiet today, Lindy.”
At her father’s comment, Lindsey looked up from the doodles she’d been drawing on a pad of paper to find him lugging a box of canned tomato sauce from the Mercantile’s storeroom.
“I can do that, Dad.”
She started to rise from the stool behind the counter, but he waved her back down. “I’ve been working in the garden all summer, honey. My biceps are in excellent condition.” He set the box down next to the shelf that needed restocking and flexed his muscles.
It was his balance, not his upper body strength, that concerned her. And he seemed to read her mind.
“Sit, Lindy.” He motioned her down. “I’m learning to compensate for this limp. And I’m doing fine. You need to stop worrying. About me, anyway.”
She sank back down. Knowing, from his caveat at the end, that more was coming.
Brushing off his hands, he walked over to her. “So how come you’re so quiet? Thinking about the meeting tomorrow?”
“Yeah.” She planted her elbow on the counter and set her chin in her palm. “Things aren’t quite as clear-cut as they once were. Susan told me several businesses are seriously hurting. Janice might even have to close.”
“I heard a rumor to that effect myself.” He rested his forearms on the opposite side of the counter and leaned forward. “Life’s never simple, is it?”
“No.”
“I guess all we can do is weigh the consequences and then make the best choices we can with the information we have.”
“I don’t know what the best choice is in this case. The long-term consequences aren’t clear.”
“They rarely are.”
He glanced down at the pad in front of her. She followed his gaze, only to discover she’d been doodling hearts. As a flush rose on her neck, she repositioned her hand to cover the telltale scribbles.
To her surprise, he didn’t comment. “Maybe you should see what that developer has to say tomorrow night. You might be able to strike a compromise.”
“I’m not holding my breath.”
“You could pray about it, though. And about that.” He gestured toward the pad in front of her. “Compromise might go a long way toward resolving that situation, too.”
“Aren’t you the one who raised a caution flag about Nate not long ago?” A defensive note crept into her voice.
“I did. But I’ve been doing a fair amount of praying about you two. And I’ve come to believe God brought him here for a reason that includes you.”
She swallowed past the sudden lump in her
throat. “I can’t imagine leaving Starfish Bay again. Or you.”
“Love requires give and take, Lindy. And Chicago isn’t that far away by plane. We wouldn’t have to be strangers.”
“But this is home. And much as I loved Mark, not a day passed when I lived in Sacramento that I didn’t miss Starfish Bay.”
“It would always be here, waiting for you to come back.”
“Maybe not the way I remember it.” Her throat tightened, and she stared out the window toward The Point. “Why does life always have to be hard? Just when I was settling back in, Nate shows up and changes everything.”
“Like Mark did.”
“And look how that turned out.”
“Are you sorry you met him?”
She angled back toward her father. “Nate asked me the same thing.”
“And?”
“No. But I’ve learned that the happy endings I used to believe in sometimes only happen in fairy tales.”
“Depends how you define happy ending, I guess. They come in a lot of different forms.” He straightened up and gave her a gentle smile. “When your mom died, everyone called it tragic. They said she was too young. That it wasn’t fair. And for a long time I bought into that and was angry at God for taking her from us too soon. But you know what? The truth of it is, I was blessed to find someone who loved me so deeply. Who gave me a beautiful daughter I cherish. Who graced my life for fifteen glorious years, the memory of which still fills my heart with joy. If you ask me, that’s a happy ending.”
Steadying himself on the counter, he leaned closer and patted the hand she’d placed over the telltale hearts. “Give it to God, Lindy. And don’t rush Him. He’ll send you the guidance you need in His own time.”
As her father limped back over to the box of tomato sauce and began to restock the shelf, Lindsey moved her hand aside and inspected her unconscious doodles. Some of the hearts were single. Alone and separate from everything else. But most overlapped.
A sign—or wishful thinking?