Return to Magnolia Harbor

by Hope Ramsay

  She focused on the work and was about to transfer her rough sketch into her CAD system when the door to the street opened.

  This time more than one set of footsteps came up the stairs, and they didn’t take them two at a time.

  “Jessica, are you here?” Granny’s unmistakable voice floated up from the stairwell.

  Goodness, the mountain had come to Mohammad, hadn’t it? Jessica had never expected Granny to set foot in her office. Ever.

  She pushed up from her desk and met her grandmother at the top of the stairs. Behind Granny, Aunt Donna followed, her face a little red as she climbed.

  “I declare,” Donna said. “The next time you lease an office, find one with an elevator.”

  Granny strode past Jessica, into the unfinished room. “Well,” she said with an unmistakable sniff, “you haven’t really done much with this place, have you?”

  “No, Granny,” Jessica said as she swallowed back her annoyance and moved toward the conference table. “Come on in and make yourself comfortable. I’ve got Cokes and water in the fridge. Can I get y’all something?”

  “No,” Granny said in a grumpy tone as she plopped herself down in a chair. “Sit down, Jessica. We need to talk.”

  Jessica was tempted to tell Granny to stop issuing orders. It struck her right then that the rebellious girl that had once gotten Colton into trouble hadn’t really disappeared. She hadn’t been reformed. She hadn’t been forgiven. And she hadn’t really forgiven anyone for what had happened to her.

  No. That wounded child had only been on vacation. She’d returned, and she was angry.

  But Jessica was still in charge of that rebellious spirit. So she didn’t make a scene. She sat down. But not because Granny had ordered her to do so.

  Aunt Donna huffed across the room and sat down too, taking out a Kleenex and mopping her slightly damp forehead and upper lip.

  “I suppose you are aware that the whole town is talking about you,” Granny said.

  Wow, that hadn’t taken any time at all. But Jessica pretended innocence. “I have no idea what you mean. I’ve been busy with—”

  “Yes, you obviously have been busy. And I’m sure you know what I’m talking about, so don’t pretend you don’t. You went out to that island with Christopher Martin, and you didn’t come back until the next morning.”

  Jessica leveled a defiant gaze at her grandmother. “We went out there to take some measurements and to talk about his project. We were caught in a storm. We decided to anchor overnight. What did you want us to do, Granny, capsize?”

  “There’s no need to get ugly, Jessi—”

  “Barbara, let me handle this,” Donna interceded.

  Granny gave her sister an imperious look but shut her mouth for once. Jessica was two seconds away from telling both of them to get the heck out of her office. The job offer from Damon Brant was looking better by the minute.

  Donna put her elbows on the table. “Honey, we’re not here to bawl you out.”

  “No?”

  “Absolutely not,” Granny said in a tone that almost sounded reasonable.

  What the heck? She turned to study her grandmother, and it struck her that their relationship was built on a lie. Jessica had returned to the family fold but only after apologizing for something that had never really happened. While Granny had never apologized for something that had.

  “Honey,” Donna said in a kindly voice, “just take a big breath. The gossip isn’t entirely bad, you know.”

  Jessica bit her lip and said nothing even though she had a strong desire to cross the bridge and burn it down behind her.

  “Of course it’s not bad. He’s rich, and he’s a Martin,” Granny said.

  “What?” Jessica sat straighter in her chair. What the heck were they talking about anyway?

  “We’re here to help you land the fish,” Donna said.

  “Land the fish?”

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake. Are you stupid?” Granny asked.

  “I am not—”

  Donna put up a hand. “Of course she’s not stupid. But I think we can all agree that you are inexperienced.”

  “At what?”

  “Seduction, my dear,” Aunt Donna said.

  Jessica was rendered utterly speechless.

  “Don’t play coy,” Granny said. “You know good and well what we mean. Christopher Martin has money, connections, and a family name that means something. You could become the most important woman in this town if you handled this right, and that’s saying something considering the way you behaved as a teenager.”

  Jessica pulled in a breath and pushed another one out. She didn’t dare say one word for fear that something truly ugly would come out of her mouth.

  “Christopher Martin is a man like your grandfather and your father,” Granny continued obliviously. “If you played your cards right, you could be a true Cinderella. You could have it all. And all you’d have to do is overlook the scars. We’re here to convince you that his scars are a very small price to pay in return for what he could do for you.”

  Jessica went cold. At first she wanted to scream at them and tell them that his scars weren’t all that bad and certainly nothing she’d ever have to “get over.”

  And then it hit her like a gale-force wind that Granny was right. Topher was a lot like Daddy. He had money and an important family name. He was used to giving commands. He could get angry and rude at times. He was used to being obeyed. The thought made her tremble as she pushed up from the table.

  “I’m really sorry to disappoint you, but Topher is my client. That’s it. I suggest you avoid listening to or repeating the gossip in this town. Now, if you don’t mind, I have work to do.”

  “But, darling, you—”

  “I don’t want to be Cinderella. It didn’t work out for you, did it, Granny? And it certainly didn’t work out for Momma. Why on earth would I go looking for the same tarnished nightmare? Now, please leave.”

  * * *

  Later that afternoon, Topher picked up Jackie at school and drove him to the mainland. The kid had nothing much to say during the drive, and Topher felt for him.

  He certainly hadn’t wanted to get Jackie into hot water with his mother. He wished that Micah St. Pierre had kept his mouth shut about Rose Howland’s letters.

  After several futile attempts at getting the kid to talk, Topher drove all the way to the mainland in near silence. But as he walked the boy into the medical building for his appointment, Jackie looked up at him and said, “You know, the main public library is just around the corner. One time, we were way early for my appointment, and Mom took me there. You can walk from here.”

  Topher gave the kid his best parental look, which seemed to bounce off Jackie like bullets off Superman. “Oh no. I’m not going to get you into trouble again.”

  “I’m not asking you to get me into trouble. You can stay outside and I’ll go read some of the letters.”

  “And you can suddenly read handwriting?”

  The kid gave him an adorable look. “Please. Come on, Mom doesn’t have to know.”

  “No.”

  “We could look at the real letters. The web page says this library has a local history room with all kinds of old books.”

  “Did you look that up on the internet?”

  The kid nodded, proving that he was smarter than the average kid.

  “You know I promised your mother not to let you read any more of those letters,” Topher said.

  “Yeah, I guess. But we don’t have to read letters. Maybe they have some old books. I still need a topic for my Heritage Day project.”

  The kid had a point. “I’ll think about it.”

  They got on the elevator, and the kid looked up at him again. “There’s one other thing.”

  “Yeah.”

  “The cap’n wants me to visit that library and see what’s there.”

  The elevator doors opened with a ding. They exited and strolled down the hallway in silence until they go
t to the doctor’s office.

  Topher stopped right outside the door. “So, are you planning to tell the doctor about this?”

  “No,” the kid said, rolling his eyes. “Dr. Robinson freaks out every time I mention the cap’n’s name. I figured that out the first week. So now I come here and tell him I don’t ever talk to the cap’n anymore.”

  “You lie to the doctor?”

  The kid shrugged. “Yeah. I guess. Don’t tell Mom. She’ll kill me if she ever finds out.”

  “I won’t tell your mom. And if you want, we can go to the library and see what kind of books they have on local history. But…no letters. Is that clear?”

  An hour later, Topher found himself in the reading room at the public library, bent over an old “commonplace” book that had once belonged to Rose Howland.

  And since it wasn’t technically one of Rose’s letters, he and Jackie were safe. Of course, there was no way to explain how Jackie knew this diary was in the Howland collection—unless you believed in a ghost.

  The boy had waltzed right up to the librarian’s desk and asked to see Rose Howland’s books. And the librarian had asked to see his library card. And that was that.

  Kind of creepy. Or supernatural. Or something.

  “What does it say?” the boy asked.

  Topher studied the pages, which were dark with age, the brown ink fading in spots. But the handwriting, though cramped in places, was familiar.

  The book had more than a hundred pages, so they didn’t have time to read it from cover to cover. He scanned the pages, many of which seemed to contain copies of several of Shakespeare’s sonnets. All of them about love.

  Rose was clearly a romantic.

  Interspersed with the poetry were notations about her efforts to secure daffodil bulbs. “There’s a lot of stuff about daffodils in here,” he said aloud. “You could probably do a whole report on that alone.” He glanced at Jackie.

  The kid wrinkled his nose and shook his head.

  Topher turned several more pages containing recipes for rabbit and squirrel stew. Then back to more poetry that he didn’t recognize. Followed by a notation about where Henri St. Pierre was planting the daffodils in the autumn of 1720.

  And then, on a page dated November 1720, was this notation: Abimael arrived today in the early morning.

  The words were set apart on a new page. Which was odd, because Rose clearly regarded the paper in this book as precious.

  “Do you know anything about a person named Abimael?” Topher asked Jackie.

  The boy shook his head. “That’s a funny name.”

  “I think it’s Biblical. But I don’t remember anyone in the history of Jonquil Island with that name.”

  “Maybe Abimael was one of Henri St. Pierre’s pirate friends. I mean, Abimael kind of sounds like a pirate name, doesn’t it?”

  “It sounds more like the opening line of Moby Dick.”

  “Huh?”

  “Never mind,” Topher said. “One day some English teacher will make you read that book and you’ll understand. Anyway, I guess we don’t want to waste time researching this Abimael character, do we?”

  The kid shook his head.

  Topher went back to turning pages, skimming endless lines of poetry, recipes, and notations on tides and daffodil planting. And then, a few pages before the writing stopped altogether, there was a hastily scrawled note.

  You will find what you are looking for in the usual place, five paces west of the marker. Take care of what belongs to Abimael.

  Topher read the passage out loud, his heart suddenly racing. “Holy sh—” He caught himself before laying an s-bomb within hearing of tender ears.

  “That’s it,” the boy said, leaning forward to look at the words scrawled across the yellowing paper. “That’s like a treasure map, right?”

  “It certainly reads like one.” Topher took out his cell phone and took a photo of the page.

  “Where do you think the marker is? And who did she want to find the book?” Jackie asked.

  “Well, she wrote the note in 1721,” Topher said. “I’m thinking she must have written it to Henri St. Pierre, since he was the only other person living on the island at that time.”

  “Okay.” The boy frowned.

  “Yeah, I know. How did a book that was supposed to be found by Henri St. Pierre end up in the library?”

  “Maybe Henri never found the book.”

  Topher nodded, suddenly captured by the mystery.

  “What do you think the marker is?” Jackie asked.

  “If you want my first guess, I’d say it’s the tree.”

  The man and the boy locked gazes for a moment.

  “Because the ghost hangs out there?” the boy asked.

  “Have you got a better reason?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Jessica was so angry with Granny and Aunt Donna that she programmed her cell phone to send their calls directly to voice mail. She spent a whole day stewing over the things they’d said while also making plans for her trip to Miami, coming up at the end of the week. She was scheduled to fly out early Thursday morning and would be gone for a couple of days.

  Two days away from Magnolia Harbor seemed like a good thing right at the moment.

  Everyone was talking about how she’d been marooned with Topher. Half the gossips thought it was wonderfully romantic, and the other half were in a snit because she’d “cheated” on Colton.

  Who was, near as she could tell, conducting a stealthy affair with Kerri Eaton. Colton hadn’t dropped by the boutique in the last several days. Had he taken it underground, or was he being an idiot and staying away from a woman he clearly had a thing for?

  If she were a different sort of person, she might have started a rumor about them, just to bring them together. But that would have made her the same as Granny and Aunt Donna.

  No, Colton would have to manage his own love life. Just like she was managing her own nonexistent one.

  The gossips of Magnolia Harbor would be so disappointed to discover that absolutely nothing scandalous had happened on Lookout Island. There had been a kiss, but it hadn’t gone anywhere.

  And for some reason, Jessica couldn’t get that out of her mind. She’d wanted it to go somewhere. But now, thinking over what Granny had said yesterday, she ought to be glad that things turned out the way they had. She certainly didn’t want to get involved with a man like her father.

  If only she could drive Topher from her mind, but unfortunately she was designing a house for him. So he, and his kiss, were front and center in her thoughts.

  She’d just finished the final elevation drawing for Topher’s house when her front office door opened.

  She tensed, listening for footsteps. It wasn’t Granny or Donna, thank goodness. But when Caleb Tate came bounding up the stairs, she almost wished it were.

  “Hello, Jessica,” he said in a saccharine voice as he crossed the room and captured her side chair without being invited. “I hear you’ve been a busy girl.”

  She said nothing as her pulse jumped, pounding at her temples. She wasn’t going to feed the gossip. Heck, if she was a stronger person, she’d push him down the stairs and wait ten minutes before calling 911.

  The thought was so ugly it stunned her. Was she truly that angry? Maybe. Probably. Her rebellious spirit rose inside her chest, and she pointed her chin at Caleb. “If you don’t have business with me, I’d appreciate it if you would leave.”

  He smiled like a snake in the grass. “Who says I don’t have business with you?”

  She swallowed hard. “Okay. What can I do for you?”

  “It’s more a case of what I can do for you.”

  “Excuse me?”

  He leaned back in his chair, cocking one leg over the opposite knee, taking up his man space. She hated him.

  “I’m sure you are aware that I sit on the review committee for the City Hall design competition.”

  What a jerk. “I am aware of that, yes.”


  “Well, we’ve begun to review the submissions. And yours is promising.”

  “Thank you.” She tensed, waiting for the “but.”

  He smiled again, casting his gaze over her unfinished office space. “You know, I wanted this space. Oh, not for my district office. That’s on the mainland. But I have a little side business.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Just a little business that’s in need of capital.”

  “I don’t have any money, Mr. Tate.”

  “Oh, call me Caleb. We’re old friends. I remember you from the yacht club.”

  A wave of nausea hit her stomach, and she had to grab the arms of her chair to keep the room from spinning. She didn’t say anything, but it didn’t matter. He wasn’t looking for conversation.

  “See, the thing is,” he continued, “everyone says you have friends in town who do have money.”

  This was about Topher, then. The rumors had brought Caleb here dangling some kind of sweetheart deal, a tit for tat. She remained silent.

  He pushed up from the chair. “I think you understand what’s needed.”

  He turned and strolled from her office, leaving her breathless for a solid five minutes before she collected her wits, found her phone, and called her lifeline.

  “What?” Hillary said the moment she came on the line.

  “I think I’ve just been offered a bribe.”

  “Holy…What happened?”

  Jessica related the situation, then asked, “What do I do now?”

  “Maybe you take the job in Miami?”

  She closed her eyes, envisioning a new life far, far away from Caleb Tate and the gossips of Magnolia Harbor.

  Yeah, maybe that’s what she needed to do. But it was painful to think that the one place on earth where she couldn’t stay was her hometown.

  And then a vision of Topher came to her, standing out in the rain taking care of his boat, staring down at her as she vented about Daddy, holding her when she cried.

  Kissing her.

  “Should I tell Topher?” she asked.

  “Why would you? He and Caleb Tate deserve each other.”

  “No,” she said in a small voice. “No, I don’t think so.”