Harlequin Superromance November 2013 - Bundle 1 of 2

by Mary Brady

  As he climbed from the basement to the first floor, the daylight got brighter and his thoughts darker.

  Chief Montcalm motioned him into the office when he arrived. “I don’t have anything more to tell you, but I need to ask. Do you want Ms. Parker kept away from the site?”

  “Do you know something I don’t about Mia?”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Then she can have free access.”

  The chief gave a half nod.

  “Have a good day, Dr. MacCarey.”

  Daniel’s phone rang.

  “Please, take the call here. I have business elsewhere in the building.” With that the chief left.

  Daniel looked at the screen. It was his department chair, Dr. Donovan.

  “Dr. MacCarey, congratulations are in order for you.”

  “Thank you. What did I do?”

  “That find of yours in that little town is going to get you a chance to take a big leap forward.”

  “I’m listening.” This already sounded like good news that was very bad news for the little town and one of its entrepreneurs.

  “We have a donor family that is just itching to get behind what you are doing. All you have to do is prove that’s Liam Bailey you have in your lab and this family is willing to fund a pirate dog and pony show and launch your career with it.”

  A pirate dog and pony show... And ruin the charm and uniqueness of the town? As well as destroy Mia’s chances with Pirate’s Roost? “Sir, this sounds very interesting. Great for the university, but...do we know these people?”

  “What we know, Dr. MacCarey, is that they are very rich, a husband and wife each with family money to give away, and you are correct if you think this is a boon. Do this and you will have brought in a huge donation to the university, to our department more specifically, and that kind of thing counts more and more these days. And I haven’t even gotten to the best part for you.”

  He heard an ax fall somewhere in the back of his mind.

  “The best part,” his boss continued, “they will fund your work for two years with the option for three more if they see what they like. And if this comes off, I have to tell you your name goes to the top of the list for the next big project.” The older man coughed his decades-of-cigar-smoking cough. “I know I don’t have to remind you how long it has been since you were in that position. I wanted to tell you myself so you would understand how important this is to the department and the university and to you.”

  “What if it’s not Bailey?”

  His boss ignored the question and went on and on about how beneficial this would be for the university and how precarious the money for good projects was these days. Daniel replied, “Yes, sir,” several times until he just let his boss continue uninterrupted.

  “So come through for us, Dr. MacCarey. We’re counting on you.”

  The phone in his hand went silent and Daniel knew he was alone again. His boss hadn’t waited for a final “yes, sir.”

  The person who could change his fate with the stroke of a pen had just laid out his future in a crystal clear either/or. Notoriety or anonymity. Destroy or be destroyed.

  He pushed up from the chair at the chief’s desk.

  If it were just between Mia and him, the choice would be easy. Mia’s livelihood depended on getting the Pirate’s Roost launched.

  If he turned his back on this pirate show, he’d be turning his back on the dollars to keep people working on projects that really mattered to the study of humans on earth. The money for the serious work sometimes came from donors who wanted to be associated with something splashy, like pirates. Where humans really came from, and how we got where we are, often took a backseat unless a good spin could be added. The Blackbeard type of pirates had been good for spin for a hundred years.

  The most important factors weighed on his mind and to the man’s credit, his department head had not once mentioned the huge debt Daniel owed the university. For three years the university supported him, kept him on, gave him anything in their power to give while his life and his family fell apart. That was not a debt Daniel took lightly, and his boss had just called in a whole fistful of those markers at Mia’s expense.

  He left the chief’s office, said good-night to the evening dispatcher and stepped outside. At five forty-five, Mia would be long gone. He wondered where she went, who she was with, and wished it was him.

  The fresh, salty air took him by surprise. He’d forgotten how good it felt to breathe the sea air. He looked around as the lights of the town blinked on one by one.

  He hated himself for allowing things to go too far with Mia. She’d hate him for it soon enough and rightly so.

  In two hours he was staring out the window of his condo wondering if his life would ever be anything but rotten.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  MIA SAT IN her darkening living room. Monique would be shocked at how sparkly and orderly her place looked. She had worked fiercely to clean every trace of Daniel MacCarey from her house.

  Conversation fragments kept coming to her mind from the call he had made to her from his car, like I am so sorry and for the best and if there is anything I can do.

  Now that she could think clearly, yes, there was something he could do. He could return her building to her. He could love her.

  But what she had wished they could have had been a fantasy and the less she thought about him, the better.

  Her phone rang. Monique. The perfect distraction.

  “Hey, Monique, how’s it going?”

  “He’s packing.” Her friend could hardly speak for the tears in her voice. “He’s...he’s...”

  “Who is packing, sweetie? Lenny?”

  “Grand-père. I stopped over there after work and he’s going to Florida.” Monique only called grandfather by the French term when she was profoundly sad, like when her mother died and left the two of them alone. “It’s the beginning of the end.”

  “Monique, is he going for a visit?”

  “He’s visiting the Kellys. Says he wants to see how the other half lives.”

  “I’m coming over.”

  “It’s all right. Lenny’s coming over for his dinner break.”

  Mia could hear her friend trying to compose herself.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to come over?”

  “I don’t want to scare Lenny. We’re a pretty intimidating pair. I think he took so long to ask me out because he knew he’d be dating a woman and her fierce protector friend.”

  “You’re afraid I’ll beat him up if I come over.”

  “Something like that. If he’s not breaking up with me, he’s in for a big test. He gets to see me all weepy-eyed and scared.”

  “Well, for sure if that scary sight doesn’t send him running in the opposite direction, he’s in for the long haul.”

  Monique bubbled a laugh. “I’m so glad I called you.”

  “Did your granddad say when he’s leaving?”

  “No. He needs to finish helping on Jim O’Connell’s boat, so he doesn’t have a definite date.”

  “I’m so sorry, Monique. Are you sure I can’t do anything for you?”

  “You already have.”

  “Call me back if you change your mind and want me to come over. And about your granddad, maybe he’s scared, too. To paraphrase a good friend of mine, I cannot see Edwin Beaudin sitting under a palm tree with an umbrella drink in his hand.”

  “Oh, Mia, I hope you’re right.”

  “Now go blow your nose and put a cold washcloth on your pretty face.”

  As soon as she hung up, Mia pushed up from the couch and headed for the door. She couldn’t fix her own heart. She couldn’t help with Lenny, but she knew where Edwin Beaudin hung out this time of day with his cronies. Maybe she cou
ld go swat some sense into him, or at least feel things out.

  In ten minutes, parked in front of Braven’s Tavern, Mia leaned against her SUV, looking into the darkness across the street. Pirate’s Roost would one day attract tourists, provide a few modest jobs and be her anchor. She hoped.

  She shook her head.

  Well, she couldn’t fix the Roost right now. She strode across the quiet street with purpose and opened the old door to Braven’s, one of those heavy, solid wood doors that held the mystery close until you pushed on the worn brass handles and let yourself inside. The tavern was almost as old as Liam Bailey’s building. Another town treasure serving beer for almost two hundred years.

  Inside, there were seven fishermen at the U-shaped bar, three at the bottom of the U and two on each leg. Each with an empty seat or two between himself and the men on either side. “In case a good-looking woman comes along. I don’t want to be sittin’ next to an old bag of wind when I can be sittin’ next to her,” Edwin Beaudin had explained to a twelve-year-old Mia, only he and most old-time Mainers pronounced “her” as a version of “h-ah.” He had gotten a swat from his daughter for such an explanation, but that didn’t make it any less the truth.

  The arrangement worked out well tonight. She took the seat on the bottom of the U between Edwin Beaudin and Whister Carmody, ex-brother-in-law of the widowed cat lady who pestered Monique with her fake Persian rug and cat poop.

  Both men turned to see who had come to invade the space between them. As one they grinned at her. Whister quickly turned back to his beer, red-faced. Edwin grabbed her in a big hug that made her wonder if her ribs would survive.

  “What brings you down here, a beauty among all these hairy beasts?”

  “I came to see you, Edwin Beaudin.”

  Edwin took a big gulp of his beer. “Well, I’d like to be all kinds of flattered, but what’d I do?”

  “What can I get for you?” the bartender asked, clearly happy to be serving someone that didn’t have bushy whiskers and rumpled clothing.

  “Whatever white wine you have open, Michael.”

  “My kind of lady. Not makin’ any trouble.”

  She didn’t take offence at that. Michael Erickson had been giving her a hard time since they were in the second grade.

  “How’s Francine?” she asked.

  “The sweetest woman on the face of the earth,” he said and went to get her wine.

  Mia sipped her wine and listened as the fishermen talked about what they had brought in that day or hadn’t. Edwin told her his granddaughter could be expecting another lobster soon. Jim O’Donnell was paying him in the catch of the day.

  “I could sell ’em, but I get the best kick outta seein’ that grand-daught-ah o’ mine smile when I give ’em to her.”

  “I hear you’re going down to Florida,” Mia said and carefully watched the look on Edwin’s face.

  He twitched a little and rocked on his stool. “I gotta check out my options, eh. Wint-ahs are hard on a’ old guy like me.”

  The conflicted look on has face told Mia he wasn’t set on anything. That should be encouraging to Monique.

  She leaned forward and back to see all seven of the men at the U-shaped bar. “Have any of you ever left Maine?”

  “Ah-yuh.” Charlie Finn around the corner from Edwin wrinkled up his face in distaste. “My wife made me go to Chicago for our honeymoon—in January. Colder than a— Oh, well, no palm trees growin’ there, I can tell you.”

  The other guys laughed.

  “I had to go to some tiny lake ne-ah Bemidji, Minnesota, with mine.” Barrel-chested Harley Davies sat near the end of one of the legs of the U, the closed end that abutted the wall, and he spoke without moving his darkly whiskered face from its position of hanging over his beer. “I still don’t know exactly whe-ah that town is. Stayed with a bunch of her cousins at a lake cabin. Good thing I didn’t mind sand in my bed sheets. Bless h-ah, she loved me for goin’ and that was enough for me.”

  Heads nodded and beer got sipped.

  “Almost left once.” Short, round, white-whisker-faced Bill Schroeder said, piping up from two stools past Whister. “One of my daught-ahs thought we should all go to New Aw-leans for her weddin’. Convinced her we could put on a much prettier show if we didn’t have to pay for all those hotel rooms. Gas wasn’t nothin’ then.”

  “Wasn’t that something? Imagine how good life would be if we paid a quarter a gallon again.”

  That raised a row of cheers.

  “What about you?” Harley leaned forward from his far-flung stool and asked her.

  “Ah-yuh, I left Maine for almost six years. In Boston, the university, a job, you know.” She couldn’t help but think she’d be down there still if she hadn’t been downsized out of two jobs and hadn’t failed at romance.

  “How’d that go?” he asked.

  “I’m back, aren’t I?”

  That got a round of chuckles and more sipping.

  Mia drank more of her wine because she was getting woefully behind. “Fellas, I had a lot of time to think about what’s important about where I live and I gotta say, it’s Maine things, the families raising children with good stout values, the young people who stay here because it’s home, and it’s you guys and all the older generation.”

  There was almost an embarrassed silence. She knew these guys loved compliments as much as anyone, but they had the hardest time taking them.

  “Older generation?” This was the bartender. “What about us youngun’s?”

  “And who’s you callin’ old?” Whister Carmody did have a voice.

  “Sorry about the old crack,” she said as she put a hand on the bar near him. “You have all lived here long enough to be the polished gems of the town.”

  “Ah-yuh, that’s us. Gems,” said Stan from the stool around the corner to the right.

  “Hey, Edwin, you an opal or a topaz?” Harley called.

  “He’s an opal. He’s soft in the head,” white-whiskered Bill piped in. “Me, I’m a nice shiny piece of quartz.”

  “Naw, you’re a big old chunk of watermelon tourmaline,” said Charlie around the left corner.

  “If I’m a watermelon, you must be—”

  “All right. All right.” Mia stood on the rung of her bar stool and raised both hands.

  “Careful, Miss,” Michael said as he leaned over the bar in front of her. “If you incite a riot here, I’m gonna have to charge you for a round just to quiet ’em down.”

  They all cheered.

  She sat back down. “You’re gonna get me into trouble here, Michael.”

  “So, how’s that coming over they-ah?” Edwin tossed a thumb over his shoulder toward Pirate’s Roost as he spoke, and Mia felt a pang that she was in no position to hire him and may never be.

  “Well, we are trying to figure out who that was in the wall.” Mia stretched and looked exaggeratedly around at them all. “I don’t suppose any of you were around when that guy got himself walled up.”

  “Bill was,” Whister said without missing a beat, and Mia knew he was kidding. Apparently when you got him into the conversation it got easier for him.

  “Watch out, Whiss, or I’ll collect on that bet I won off you in 1898,” Bill shot back.

  Laughter ensued and the guys ordered another round. When the bartender brought her wine he said, “You should come more often. A good-looking woman is very good for business.”

  “So you people are pretty hush-hush over there.” A new voice was heard from. Earl Smith, the only man who could be considered skinny in this group, spoke from the opposite end of the U from Harley. “Tell us wha’s going on ’cause if we have to wait for our wives to find out from those two at the yarn shop, we get way behind. We did hear about that man who keeps coming around from the university.”


  “Yes, that’s Dr. Daniel MacCarey. He’s a forensic anthropologist.”

  “Like that TV show where they study bones,” Whiss said.

  “He’s the one who’s going to tell us exactly how old the bones are.”

  “Is he a Maine boy?” Bill asked.

  “I didn’t ask him.”

  “He’s not bad-looking. You might want to snap him up if he is,” Edwin said from her elbow.

  “I guess I’ll have to check and see if he’s a Maine boy. But hey, you guys, I’m looking for information about what would make life around here better for people.”

  “We were kind of looking forward to that place of yours getting finished, eh,” Harley said as he looked up from his beer.

  “Wouldn’t have to drive so far from town to take our wives to a nice dinner,” Stan added with enthusiasm that was seconded by some of the others.

  That surprised Mia. She had no idea these men even thought of such things.

  “Or maybe a date, eh, Whiss?” Bill teased the other man.

  Mia expected Whister to dive into his beer mug, but he grinned. She wondered who the lucky lady was, but she didn’t want to push his burst of extroversion past its limits by asking.

  “A hand of cards in a nice warm place in the wintertime, maybe after a warm breakfast and a good cup of coffee.” Harley looked as if he were daydreaming as he spoke. “That might be good.”

  She thought of the big windows she would like to have put in the front of the restaurant and the smaller ones in the back. They’d let in a lot of light. She’d planned on supplementing central heat with a large stone fireplace. It should be cozy.

  She could even see these guys at a couple tables in the corner in the back laughing, harassing the waitstaff for more coffee. But what if this was the kind of thing that kept them here. Kept the heritage in Maine.

  If she ever got it built.

  “So what do you think?” Whiss leaned toward her. “Are you gonna make that place over there work for us?”

  She hadn’t thought about breakfast, or card games.