Stillwater Rising

by Steena Holmes

  Arnold had given her a list of people to interview. There were those names she’d expected to see on the list: Anne Marie, the baker from Sweet Bakes; Fred Gibbons from Fred’s Tavern; Shelley Peterson, her landlady. There were also others that she really hadn’t gotten to know very well during her stay, like Dorothea Peters, the manager of the retirement home, or Blake Casser, the glassworker.

  Arnold had numbers beside each name listed, fifteen in total. That was four months of articles with Julia’s being the very last one. Four months where she could stay in this town and soak in the peace she needed. She knew Alex wanted her home and would tell her she could write these on her own time, that she didn’t need to stay here until Thanksgiving . . . but she did.

  “How about I refill your cup with some hot water?” Shelley appeared at her side with a teapot in hand.

  Sam smiled. Before coming to Stillwater, coffee with an extra shot of espresso was her go-to beverage of choice during the day, but somehow, Shelley had managed to switch her over to tea in the afternoons.

  “What are you working on?” Shelley set the hot pot down on a tea cozy and then sat down across from her at the dining room table.

  Sam toyed with her pen, twirling it in circles. “Arnold asked me to head up a new column for the paper.”

  “Arnold?”

  Sam nodded.

  “Arnold isn’t known for his . . . generosity when it comes to columns in the paper. My husband used to write for him off and on.”

  Samantha leaned forward and rested her elbows on the table. “Really? You never mentioned this during our talks about him.”

  Shelley shrugged. “George was a lot of things. Being a writer was just one part.” A soft smile played with her lips, and Samantha knew she was lost to memories. It happened every time her late husband was brought up.

  She reread what she’d written and knew immediately whom her first article would be about.

  “Shelley.” She waited a few seconds for the woman to look at her. “I’m going to be writing a series of articles about the people in this town, and I’d like my first article to be about you. Would that be okay?”

  Shelley placed her hand over her heart as her eyes widened. “Me? Why would you want to write about me?”

  “Because I think you’re an important part of whom this town is, and I’d like to help refocus people on what makes this town so family oriented.”

  Understanding covered Shelley’s gaze. “Of course. Just promise me one thing?”

  The doorbell rang, and Shelley pushed her chair back.

  “Who’s that?” Sam said as she watched her head toward the front door. Shelley knew with the upcoming weekend that her bed-and-breakfast would be filling with guests, and in fact, all but one of her rooms were already booked.

  “Don’t share any of my recipes,” Shelley called over her shoulder. Sam smiled. No, she wouldn’t share any recipes. It was something Shelley had made her promise when she first arrived, to never divulge any information regarding her baking. Apparently she made a few closely guarded dishes, ones that normally won contests, and she took great pride in the fact they were well-kept secrets.

  Instead of new guests, it was Blake Casser who walked in. She was about to raise her hand in greeting but caught the steel look in his eyes.

  “I heard what you’re up to, and we need to talk.” Blake stood beside her, his massive arms crossed over his equally massive chest, and he glared down at her.

  Sam shrunk back a little. The man had intimidation down pat, that’s for sure. She had to remind herself she’d dealt with men like him before, men who liked to push women around and who thought their muscles held more sway than her words, and she stood up, forcing her chair to squeak backward and him to take a step back.

  “So talk.”

  The room was silent. Shelley stood there, not saying a word. But there was a hint of a smile, a hint of something Samantha knew she didn’t want any part of. She’d been warned by Charlotte that her landlady was quite the matchmaker in town.

  “If this is going to be done right, then we need to work together.”

  “This?” Sam asked. How did he know what this was, and who had blabbed?

  Right then her cell phone rang and she knew by the ringtone it was Alex, her editor. She contemplated not answering, but she’d already ignored his calls the past three days.

  “How do some tea and cookies sound?” Shelley stepped forward and placed her hand on Blake’s arm.

  Sam smiled in gratitude as she grabbed her phone and made her way out of the room. She didn’t need anyone listening in.

  “Alex,” she answered.

  “It’s about time you picked up. I’m about to drive out there tomorrow to drag you home.”

  “Please don’t,” she said.

  “Too bad. I need you here.”

  “I mean it, Alex. Don’t come. I’m not ready to come back yet.”

  Alex groaned. “Ready or not, you need to come back. And don’t tell me there’s still a story here. If you haven’t been able to dig up anything on the principal by now, then the story is cold.”

  Sam wrinkled her nose in disgust. Jordan Stone. There was something about him, something that still didn’t sit right. He was next on her list, and it would be a great excuse to try to dig deeper into his story of what had happened that day. But Alex was right. Jordan Stone wasn’t enough to keep her there.

  “Fine,” she said. Her gut churned as she said the word before really thinking about her answer.

  “Fine? What do you mean, fine? Fine you’ll come home, or fine you’re taking time off?”

  “I want the summer.”

  “The summer?” Alex sputtered. She’d caught him off guard, and that was good. He might be open to her suggestion.

  “You don’t have to worry about my column. I’ll fill it with some special pieces I’m writing. But give me the summer. I need it, Alex. I’ve seen too much, done too much. I just need time.”

  “Time for what? Time to relax? Then let me talk to my friend who has a time-share in Mexico. Heck, I’ll even come with you and bring some of your friends that you seem to have forgotten about.”

  She shook her head. “No, Alex. That’s not . . . ,” she sighed deeply. She didn’t need this guilt trip from him.

  She glanced behind her and caught Blake watching her. Her cheeks flushed, and she turned her attention back to the wall in front of her.

  “You have a life here, Sam. Or did you forget that?” His voice softened and Sam could picture him, sitting there in his office, his elbows resting on his knees while his shoulders sloped. Alex was small and lean, unlike the man behind her whose gaze bored holes into her back.

  “I know. I just . . . give me the summer, okay?” She didn’t know how to explain this to him. They’d been friends for so long, but she doubted he would understand why she had to stay here. “I’ll take unpaid leave. Whatever it takes. I just can’t come back yet, okay?”

  She didn’t even wait for him to respond. She hit the button to end the call, stowed her phone in her pocket, and then turned around.

  Both Blake and Shelley stood there, watching her. Shelley was concerned; she could see the worry lines etched on her face. But Blake . . . well, he looked like he’d just eaten a rotten mushroom but was too manly to spit it out.

  “Looks like I’ve got the summer off,” she said. “I hope you haven’t booked my room yet.”

  “You’re staying?” Blake spat the words out.

  “Is that a problem?”

  Blake grumbled something beneath his breath before he stormed past her and let the wooden screen door slap behind him.

  “Oh dear,” Shelley mumbled.

  “What did I miss? If I need to find someplace else to stay . . .” She really didn’t want to have to leave Seaglass; she loved it here.

  �
��Oh no.” Shelley waved her hand dismissively. “And don’t you worry none about that boy. He’ll be back. Now, where were we?”

  Sam sat back down at the table, reached for her tea, and winked at Shelley.

  “I think you were about to spill the recipe for your strawberry-cream muffins.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHARLOTTE

  Charlotte nursed her mug of coffee between her hands as she sat on her back deck steps and waited for Jordan to return from his morning jog.

  She was mentally preparing herself for today. It was their first Teddy Bear Picnic of the summer, starting the first Wednesday of July and then every week until end of August, and Charlotte was more than a bit nervous. For one, she didn’t normally do this . . . help with the picnics, and two, she wasn’t all that sure of the turnout. The online registration had fallen to the wayside this year, and it hadn’t been until late last night when she’d received an e-mail from one of the parent volunteers that Charlotte realized the registration link had never officially opened.

  She couldn’t believe no one had noticed it.

  She was jittery, and sitting here was almost torture. Where was Jordan, and why wasn’t he back by now? He’d said it would only be a short run as he’d offered to help her this morning. But a short run for her meant jogging on the spot.

  Would there be enough kids today? Did she have enough volunteers? What if there were too many helpers? What if there weren’t enough? What if the kids hated the activities she’d put together? What if it all flopped?

  Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t see or hear Jordan until he squatted down in front of her.

  “Hey, I thought you would be dressed by now.”

  “I was waiting for you.” She put her hand out to pat their dog on the head. She wrinkled her nose in disgust when her hand met wet fur. “In the water, again?”

  Jordan shrugged. “He’s a natural, what can I say.”

  “He’s not coming in the house like this.” The last time they left their dog in the house alone while he was wet, she’d had to wipe down their walls and clean the carpet.

  “Why don’t we bring him? He’d love it, and I’m sure the kids would too.”

  Charlotte was about to say no until she realized it was a good idea.

  “We’re taking your Jeep then.”

  Her husband nodded before he headed into the house. “Go get dressed. I’ll meet you in the Jeep.”

  She followed him inside and then made her way up to their room while he went down to have his shower. Should she wear a sundress, shorts, or capris? Why was this so difficult for her? Ever since she woke up, she’d been struggling with every little thought, every small decision. This wasn’t like her.

  She was still standing there when Jordan came up.

  “Capris,” he said as if he could read her mind. It probably wasn’t difficult since she stood there with a sundress in one hand and capris in the other.

  “What’s going on? You seem . . . off somewhat. You okay?” He sat down on their bed and pulled on his jeans. She eyed his body with appreciation before she nodded and then shook her head.

  “I’m not sure.” She shrugged before hanging the dress back up in her closet. She looked over the multitude of tops and sighed.

  “This one.” Jordan reached for a blue top with a scooped neckline. He then reached for a cream tank top off her shelf and handed it to her.

  Charlotte shook her head. Here she was, a grown woman, and her husband had to dress her today.

  “I don’t know what’s wrong, but my world feels off-kilter.”

  Jordan squeezed her shoulder before he pulled a shirt off a hanger for himself. He chose a deep blue, a complementary color to her outfit.

  “You’ve had a rough week. Maybe it’s all just catching up to you.” His fingers hesitated as he buttoned up his shirt. “Why don’t we go for a drive later? Maybe along the coast, and do some secondhand store shopping?”

  Charlotte smiled at the idea. They used to take off on weekends and do that, something to get away from their jobs, their commitments. She used to love those weekends and looked forward to them, but it had been a while, years actually, since they’d done that.

  “I’m not sure.” Could they actually get away? Was now a good time to do so? The fair started tomorrow . . .

  Jordan reached for her hand and tugged her backward until she rested against his chest. They stood in front of their full-length mirror, and Charlotte looked at them, together. She wasn’t really familiar with this sight. Any intimacy between them had petered off until they were more like comfortable roommates instead of husband and wife.

  “You’ve put committees in place to ensure everything is going ahead smoothly, so trust them, okay? This isn’t our first summer fair; this town knows what they are doing. Besides, we’ll only be gone for a few hours.” When she hesitated, he placed a soft kiss on the back of her head. “We need this, Charlotte.”

  How could she say no?

  “Maybe all you need is time away to get a fresh perspective while we drive. You always did find inspiration that way.”

  Which was true. The more she mulled over the idea, the more she liked it.

  “Just think on it, okay? We can ask Gina to put together a basket lunch and take it with us. We can be back before it’s dark.”

  She saw the hope in his gaze and the feel of his arms around her felt warm, right. It had been too long and maybe . . . maybe this would be good for them. Not just for her, but for them.

  “Okay.” She nodded in agreement. “Let’s do it.” She turned around and tilted her head up for a kiss. “Let me tell Sheila so she can field all my calls.”

  “Thank you.” The relief in Jordan’s gaze was noticeable. “I’ve been meaning to mention it for a while, but it was never the right time.”

  Charlotte searched his gaze, suddenly nervous. Why was going away so important to him?

  “Maybe our problem is we don’t know how to make time,” Charlotte said quietly.

  She saw the answer in his face and knew he didn’t need to reply. Time wasn’t their only problem. Their marriage had been placed on the back burner for a long time. Her position as mayor and his role as principal was paramount in their lives. Who they were as individuals was so tightly meshed into their careers that the line was blurred.

  Just as Jenn had said. Sometimes she didn’t know when to stop being the mayor and start being a friend.

  One afternoon away from it all wasn’t going to solve all their problems. But it would be a nice distraction.

  Charlotte dusted the sand from the top of the picnic table before she unfolded the plastic tablecloth and spread it out. Her hands shook, and she mentally scolded herself for being silly. There was no reason to be nervous. Everything was going to turn out just fine.

  Ever since she’d agreed to their afternoon getaway trip, Jordan couldn’t contain his smile or laughter. Even now, when he was supposed to be up here helping to spread out the food and art supplies, he was down by the water, throwing a ball out for their dog to fetch. Around him gathered some small children. She hoped they were here to take part in the picnic.

  Ten minutes ago, Amanda and Charity had arrived and were placing blankets down on the sand, stations where they would host activities for the kids. Having them here and having Jordan help eased the nervous jitters but not completely.

  “Stop being so silly,” she muttered to herself. Place her in a room with adults, and she was fine. But with children, that was a different story. Especially these children. She wanted today to be a happy day for them, a day they could look back on with happiness. It was the first official day of summer for Stillwater, and she wanted it to be perfect.

  “Excuse me, is this where the Teddy Bear Picnic is taking place?”

  Charlotte looked up and found a couple standing in front of her with their da
ughter, a little girl who carried a stuffed bear in her arms.

  “Sure is. I’m Charlotte.” She stretched out her hand and shook first the mother’s hand and then the father’s.

  “This is Hayley.” The mother, Debbie, had her arm around her daughter’s shoulders. “We were up at the lighthouse and noticed a flyer. Are we able to join in? I’d love to help if possible.”

  Charlotte smiled. “Of course, that would be lovely. We’re about to get started.” She bent down until she was eye level with Hayley. “Do you see that man down by the water with the dog? That’s my husband and our school principal. And that’s my dog, Buster. Why don’t you go and give him a pet? Be careful, though; I think he’s a bit wet.” She caught the sparkle of interest in Hayley’s eyes at the mention of Buster and was glad Jordan had thought to bring him down with them.

  “She was so excited when we found out about these picnics,” Debbie mentioned as they turned to watch as Hayley’s dad led her down to the water.

  “She’ll have a great time. It’s something we do every week during the summer for the little ones. Are you just passing through, or will you be staying here for a bit?”

  “We’re here for the fair actually, staying at the bed-and-breakfast. We went up to the lighthouse to watch the sunrise, and that’s when we saw the notice.”

  Charlotte smiled. “Did Shelley tell you how she came up with the name for her bed-and-breakfast?”

  The story was probably one of Charlotte’s favorites. Every store in Stillwater Bay had a name that was unique, not only to the town, but for themselves as well. Shelley’s place was one such example.

  Years ago, after losing her husband to cancer, Shelley decided to turn their century-old home into a bed-and-breakfast. After months of construction and redecorating, just before she was about to officially open, she realized she needed a name but couldn’t think of anything that held any sort of meaning. One of their dreams, as a couple while her husband was still well, had been to operate a bed-and-breakfast, so she wanted the name to be special and have meaning.