The Inn at Ocean's Edge

by Colleen Coble

  Silverware tinkled against plates in the outdoor dining space. Claire skirted the line at the buffet table and exited the back doors onto the dining patio. The scent of fresh flowers from the outdoor tables hung heavy in the air. She spied her mother seated near an arbor and paused to take in her pale skin and shadowed eyes. Any stress usually took its toll on Mom, and Claire had expected her mother to be in bed most of the day.

  Claire pulled out a chair opposite her mother. “Good morning, Mom. I’m surprised you’re up this early.”

  “I couldn’t sleep.” Her mother went quiet when the server, a college-aged blonde, stepped to the table to refill her coffee. The server poured Claire’s coffee too.

  Claire ordered quiche. “Where’s Dad?”

  “He went to the airport in Bangor to pick up Ric.” A thread of stress ran through her mother’s tone. “He’ll be gone until dinnertime.”

  Claire poured cream into her coffee and took a sip. “I would have gone with him. I’m eager to talk to Ric.”

  “I’ve never liked that man, Claire. He has a terrible reputation with women.”

  “I’m just going to close the merger, not date him.”

  Her mother pressed her lips together and moved her scrambled eggs around on her plate with her fork. “Did you hear from the sheriff this morning?”

  “No, but I thought I might call him and see if they found Jenny.” At her mother’s blank expression, she explained the name. “The murdered woman.”

  Her mother shuddered. “I’d rather not think about it.”

  “Why did we have my birthday party here when I was four? I want to know more about what happened.”

  Her mother picked at her plate again. “My family often vacationed here when I was growing up. My parents had a vacation home in Bar Harbor. I met your father that summer. He was caddying for my dad. And we were married here and had our reception at this hotel. It seemed so romantic to be married in the area where we’d met and fallen in love. And we came back here every year for your birthday. At least until you went missing. Then I never wanted to see the place again.”

  At least her mother had faced her distaste and come rushing here to make sure Claire was all right. “Are you going home today?”

  Her mother’s lashes swept up, then back down. “I think I might stay, at least until you’re ready to leave.”

  What was her mother afraid of? Memories?

  Gulls, drawn by the pungent odor of the fish in Luke’s pail, swooped low and squawked overhead. One particularly bold one landed and tried to peer into the bucket.

  “Oh no you don’t.” Luke swatted it away, and it flew off with an indignant squawk.

  The day glowered with gray skies and the promise of a storm. Luke’s mood matched the dark clouds overhead. Night had brought little rest as he’d tossed and turned in bed all night. Had his mother finally been found, or would a final resolution be snatched away?

  The baby orca swam close when he dangled a fish over the water from his perch on the pier. When the little guy was close enough, he dropped the food into the calf’s mouth. “You look better today, fella.”

  Megan dropped onto her belly and dangled her arms over the edge of the pier. “He does, doesn’t he? His eyes are brighter, and he’s swimming much more strongly. I think he’s going to live.” She inclined her head toward the shore. “It’s a good thing, or you might have to answer to her.”

  He glanced up and saw Claire Dellamare picking her way along the rocky shoreline. Sturdy water shoes replaced the heels she’d carried yesterday, and she wore sensible jeans today. A bright-pink blouse peeked over the top of her yellow rain slicker. Her golden-tipped curls were up on top of her head, more neatly this time.

  The pier shuddered a bit under her footsteps. “He’s swimming better.” Her dimples flashed when she smiled at the little orca.

  The sweet scent of her perfume wafted toward him, pulling him toward her. “He’s hungry too. Want to feed him?” He suppressed a grin. No way would a woman like her touch smelly fish.

  “Sure.” Claire lowered herself onto the pier on the other side of the bucket and reached in. She must have noticed his shock because one perfect brow arched up. “I can bait my own hook with a worm too, just in case you’re wondering.”

  Meg burst into laughter. “She got you there, big brother.”

  An answering grin tugged at Luke’s mouth. “Appearances don’t tell the whole story, huh? I would have guessed you hadn’t set foot in a fishing boat, in spite of knowing about orcas.”

  Claire tossed the killer whale another fish. “There’s something about the sea and its creatures that call to me. I could sit for hours and just watch the waves.” She watched the orca swim away, then back for another snack. “If he keeps eating, we might be able to release him in a week. I might stay to make sure he’s okay.”

  “It’s not that easy. I need to see if I can find his pod. He’ll have the best chance of survival if he’s with his family.”

  “They’re probably close by.”

  He shook his head. “There are at least three pods out here.”

  Those gorgeous blue eyes turned his way. “How do you know that?”

  Meg rubbed her hand over the orca’s head. “Luke is an orca geek. He’s in the Coast Guard and has studied them for years. He cares more about this little guy than you can imagine.”

  Luke stifled a grin at his sister’s defensive tone. While she felt free to correct him, no one else had better try. “You probably know every pod has its own dialect of vocalization. I’ve been listening to him.” He pointed out his hydrophone strapped to one of the pilings. “I’m recording him, and when he’s ready, I’ll go out searching for his family. I’ll play the recordings and see if I can attract the right pod.”

  “It’s all gone, little one.” Claire rinsed the scales from her fingers. “Exactly what I would have done. You really do know orcas.”

  They watched the antics of the little orca for a few minutes in silence. The little guy vaulted into the air and emitted small chirps and clicks. Even though Claire laughed at the right times, Luke sensed a sorrow in her, some kind of distress that made her gaze off into the foaming waves.

  She finally blinked and sighed before turning to look at Megan and him. “Have they found the body yet?”

  How had she heard about the find already? “I was there when they found the bones.”

  Her blue eyes darkened. “Bones? How could there be only bones so quickly?”

  Of course, she was talking about what she saw last night, not about the grisly discovery in the cranberry field. “One of the deputies told us you thought you saw a murder.”

  “I didn’t think so. I actually saw it. Here, feel this.”

  She took his hand, and the shock of her touch sent a current through him. She tugged his hand to the back of her soft hair and pressed his fingers against a bump. “The guy hit me on the head.” She released his hand, then turned and pointed at Old Man Ledge. “I saw a man shove a woman off right there. I rushed to help her, but she was already dead. Then he clobbered me from behind. When I woke up, the sheriff was there, but the body I’d seen was gone.”

  “That’s crazy. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, but I’m eager to learn what happened to Jenny. It was pretty awful what that man did to her. And the police didn’t seem to believe me—”

  “Wait, how do you know the victim’s name?”

  “I met Jenny when I checked in to the hotel yesterday, and I’d spoken to her on the phone before my arrival.”

  “We had an eventful night too,” Meg put in. “One of our workers discovered some human bones on our property. We think we might have finally found our mother. She went missing the same night you did.”

  The bracelet on her slender wrist clinked when Claire gasped and put her hand to her mouth. “I’m so sorry. So that's why you asked if I saw a woman.”

  Meg nodded.

  “With Mom found, maybe we can all get on with life
again. She’s been gone from our lives for years, but our dad hasn’t been able to let her go.”

  “I can’t imagine how painful that must’ve been. Our identities are so tied up in our families, don’t you think? I’m still reeling from what you told me yesterday. I need to find out more about that missing year. Is there a newspaper in the area that might have an account of what happened?”

  He nodded. “Folly Shoals Soundings. The library might have old copies on microfilm, but there’s no telling.” The forlorn expression in her eyes stirred his heart. “I can go with you and show you if you like. I know the librarian.”

  Her eyes brightened. “Oh, would you, Luke? My parents told me to leave it alone, but I can’t. I have to know even if it upsets them. I have to be careful, though. Mom is kind of delicate.”

  He understood her urgency all too well and stood. “I’ve got time right now.”

  The lightening of his spirit had nothing to do with the thought of spending some time in her presence. A woman with Claire’s background wouldn’t look twice at a sea dog like him, even if he was interested.

  SIX

  Folly Shoals was a fishing village straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting. Shingle and clapboard cottages in pastels of blue, yellow, and white stair-stepped the hillside, and lobster traps lay heaped in the yards. Boats of all sizes and conditions, from pleasure boats to fishing boats, bobbed in the waves at their moorings in Sunset Cove. Bigger, nicer homes with manicured lawns sandwiched the older homes occupied by fishermen. People with coolers awaited the fishing and lobster boats chugging toward the pier.

  Claire clung to the armrest in Luke’s old truck as he drove the narrow and winding streets to the library. She was only too glad to get out of the cab, rank with the odor of fish and bait. She stood on the brick sidewalk and looked up and down the street. The aroma of fudge mingled with the scents rolling out of the candle shop next door. She would have to stroll through the shops when she had time.

  She’d tried to find out about her missing year online, but Folly Shoals was still stuck in the last century and only the last few years of articles were online. She hoped Luke was right and they’d find stashes of microfilm or even the physical papers themselves in some dusty room inside. Though, surveying the small, sea-weathered building, she had her doubts. And what if she found something that rocked her world even more?

  “Wait here first. I’ll check and see if they have any old papers.” Luke touched her shoulder, then bounced up the steps to the library.

  While he was gone, Claire observed the town. Had she lived in one of those houses when she was four? Doubtful. Not with so many people searching for her. Whoever had kept her likely lived out in the forest somewhere, miles from here. How did she go about finding out the truth when it happened twenty-five years ago? Could her nightmare about the man with the fox be something she actually experienced during that missing year?

  Luke came back down the steps shaking his head. “No papers, but the librarian was sure the newspaper would have them.” He pointed to a building two doors down.

  The acrid odor of ink assaulted her when she stepped inside, but the young man named Victor was pleasant enough, and minutes later she and Luke were in the archive room. Wooden tables nearly groaned under the weight of stacks of newspapers.

  The old floorboards creaked under him as Luke approached a stack in the back-left corner. “He suggested we start here.”

  She joined him, leaning in close enough to feel the warmth emanating off his skin. Moving away a few inches, she took a stack of newspapers from his hands and carried them to the old wooden table in the center of the room. Half an hour later, black ink covered her hands, but they were getting close. The last paper she’d looked at was only a week away from her disappearance.

  Luke held up a paper. “Got it! Front page news.” He moved beside her and smoothed open the newspaper.

  TINY HEIRESS LOST IN THE NORTH WOODS

  Searchers fanned out Saturday over the island of Folly Shoals and into all of Hancock and Washington Counties in a quest to find the only child of millionaire Harry Dellamare and his wife, Lisa. Claire Dellamare, four years old, wandered off during a birthday party at Hotel Tourmaline. The blond, blue-eyed girl was last seen wearing a pink lace party dress, white tights, and patent leather shoes.

  A K-9 search-and-rescue team showed up to assist in the search, but so far, no trace of the child has been found. The child’s mother, Lisa Dellamare, has been hospitalized for hysteria and remains under sedation. Anyone with information leading to the child’s whereabouts is instructed to call the sheriff’s office. A reward of a hundred thousand dollars has been offered for information leading to the child’s discovery.

  Claire’s chest felt tight, and her eyes prickled. She would not cry. All this happened years ago. It had no power to affect her life now. She only wanted to know what happened. Sniffling, she reached for a wet wipe and washed her hands, then handed him one. She didn’t look at him as they cleaned off the ink in silence.

  Luke’s hand, warm and strong, came to rest on her left shoulder. The press of his fingers conveyed reassurance, support, and comfort. “You okay?”

  “Fine.” Her voice came out hoarse and choked. “It’s just all so shocking to find out something this dramatic happened to me and I don’t remember anything about it.” Her gaze fell farther down the front page. “There’s no mention of your mother’s disappearance.”

  He leaned down, his breath stirring her hair. “My father couldn’t do anything for twenty-four hours since she was an adult. It should be in the next week’s paper. Let me see if I can find it.” He shuffled through the papers and retrieved one. “Here it is.”

  SEARCH CALLED OFF FOR CLAIRE DELLAMARE

  After a week of unseasonably cool night temperatures, four-year-old Claire Dellamare remains missing. Searchers from the island and all of Hancock and Washington Counties have been unable to locate the child. Her shoes were found in a small islet north of Sunset Cove, and the sheriff’s department has surmised she went swimming and drowned. Her father, millionaire Harry Dellamare, checked his grieving wife out of the hospital and took her back to Boston yesterday, where she was admitted to a local psychiatric hospital. The community offers its prayers and condolences to the Dellamares.

  And underneath that article, she saw the one about his mother. Judging from her picture, she’d been very beautiful, with long dark hair and eyes that seemed to take in the world with a hint of humor. Megan looked a lot like her.

  CO-OWNER OF ROCCO CRANBERRIES MISSING

  Victoria Rocco went on her customary evening walk and never returned. Available searchers were thin because of Claire Dellamare’s disappearance, but friends and neighbors fanned out over her known path. Victoria’s husband, Walker Rocco, asks anyone with information to call him personally.

  Claire glanced up to find his gaze on her. “That’s all? It almost sounds like no one expected to find her.”

  “I don’t think the town did. Most folks thought she left of her own accord, but we never believed she’d do that.” His lips flattened, and so did his voice. “And now it appears we were right.”

  “There isn’t much to go on for either of us.”

  His brow furrowed. “I was a kid myself, so I don’t have any clear memories of it other than searching for her and crying myself to sleep every night.”

  She winced. “Whom can we talk to about it? Your dad?”

  “He had a stroke and isn’t making a whole lot of sense these days. Let’s start with Mom’s sister, my aunt Nancy. She runs a day care here in town.” A dimple appeared in his right cheek, then he reached over and rubbed his thumb, still damp from the hand wipe, over her cheek.

  He was a man who worked hard with his hands. His thumb was rough against her skin. “Got it. I should probably wash my face too.”

  Her face heated when she rose and followed him after such a curiously intimate exchange. She never let people close this fast. Never.


  It took five minutes for Luke to drive Claire to where his mother’s sister lived. Nancy Prescott kept an immaculate yard around her shingled house. Her roses were impressive. She’d already cut the shoots back and had prepped the beds lining the front of her gingerbread house. He eyed Claire to see what she thought of the blue house with its crisp white shutters.

  Claire’s eyes widened. “How cute.”

  He parked at the curb. “When we were kids, Megan thought Snow White’s dwarves used to live here. It looked like the picture in her book. The house has all these great nooks and crannies too. Perfect for hide-and-seek.”

  “Will she mind us dropping by without calling first?”

  He shook his head. “I’ll get what-for since this is the first I’ve stopped by since I got back to town, but it’ll be worth it for her peanut butter cookies and coffee.” He got out and shut his door.

  They strolled up the brick walk lined with freshly upturned dirt. His aunt would be dying to get her annuals planted along the sidewalk. She took pride in trying new varieties every year. He mounted the steps and pressed the doorbell. The windows along the front of the house stood open, and he caught the faint scent of lemon polish.

  The door opened, and she beamed up at him. “I wondered when you’d find time for your old aunt.” In bare feet and cropped pants, she grabbed him in a fierce hug, then stepped back to survey him. “You’re too thin.”

  “I haven’t had your cookies in six months.” He followed her into the sunny living room with its warm wood floors and bright rug. “Aunt Nan, this is Claire—”

  Claire interrupted him, holding out her hand. “So nice to meet you.”

  He shot a glance her way, and she smiled back blandly. Maybe she didn’t want his aunt to know her last name yet.

  The dimple in his aunt’s cheek was like his and his mother’s. About fifty-five, she had bright-pink polish on her toenails and her dark hair up in a ponytail. “I do believe this is the first time Luke has ever brought a girl to meet me, Claire. You must be very special to him. Have a seat, you two.”