All About Sage (A City of Sails Romance Book 2)

by Hill, Joanne

  Adam slowly took another drink of beer and pondered the statement. Was he doing something wrong? He questioned his parenting skills every day of his life. He was a single man raising a child and none of this came naturally.

  Debra joined them on the deck. "It’s because she’s an only child." She chose the deck chair over the hard timber but gave Adam a reassuring glance. She knew him well, knew his tendency to analyze everything to death. "Our lot have to go along with the flow. They’ve got no other choice or we’d both be crazy. Charlotte’s different."

  Adam focused on Charlotte as she jumped higher on the trampoline. Around her were Mike and Debra’s kids, all five of them. The neighbors were no doubt wondering what had hit town.

  That would all change later. When Debra and Mike packed up their tribe in the mini van and headed back to their home an hour east, there’d just be himself and Charlotte, together again. He’d spent the past few nights here alone; it would be Charlotte’s first in the new house.

  He took another slug of beer but suddenly, he’d lost his taste for it. He absently wiped condensation from the rim and set the can down on the deck. That feeling again. That feeling he'd just made the wrong decision and he was stuck with it. He tried to shake it but it was sticking hard.

  "Adam?" Debra looked shrewdly at him. "Something up?"

  He grimaced. Debra had always been able to read him like a book and there was no point denying it.

  "Just wondering." He let out a sigh. "Just wondering whether I made the right decision to move down here."

  Silence grew between them.

  She said, "It’s a little late for wondering if you made the right move."

  "I know." Adam let the silence stretch out further. "Yeah, I know."

  "You can second guess all you like, and you’ve probably been doing it since you took that job at the hospital, but the fact is you have bought this house, you’ve chosen this town to live in and you’ve got a dream job."

  "And I know I made the right move in coming here."

  "And you’ll make it work. I know you will. Although," Debra admitted, "I did think you were crazy. We all did. Mom hit the roof when she found out you were leaving Portland. Coming to live down here on the coast was the biggest insult of the lot. She thinks it's a backwater."

  "Not quite backwater," Mike cut in.

  "Try telling our mother that. Anything within fifty miles of a city center is the wild west."

  "She’s always hated the idea of small town living," Adam mused. He’d never seen himself living here either but the moment he’d taken the wrong turn off the highway on his way to see Debra and had crossed the river, he’d known Riverdale was it. He could see himself living here, and when a surgical position had come up at southern Oregon's largest hospital, it had sealed it.

  Stepping foot in this huge rambling house with its quarter acre section had been the icing.

  He felt Debra’s hand on his shoulder. "We all think you’re marvelous doing what you do. You turn people's lives around. Few people can do that."

  "I know, Deb." He gazed out over the lawn again to watch Charlotte and her cousins. They were playing tag, tackling each other, and somewhere in between was a ball they were meant to be fighting over. There were times his princess was one hell of a tomboy.

  "Whoa." Mike said then. He gestured to the fence. "Looks like you’ve got yourself a visitor."

  Adam followed Mike's gaze to the huge ginger cat balancing on the fence between the two properties. He’d noticed it lurking, strolling in a slumbering fashion that made him wonder if the cat considered this his home. Last night he’d fed him a piece of fish leftover from the takeaways he’d bought on the way home from the late shift.

  The cat had chowed down leisurely, licked his chops, proceeded to launch an assault on his tail before he strolled right on out of the house without so much as a meow.

  "Well fed," Debra commented and Adam grinned. "Too well fed." He gestured to the house on the other side. "I think he lives there. The owner’s a teacher, a widow. Went over the other day to introduce myself but she wasn’t around."

  "I wonder who’s feeding the cat?" Debra said.

  "Neighbor on the other side. I saw him yesterday."

  "Have you met many other locals?"

  "A couple," Adam shrugged. "There’s Dora Canfield. I’ve hired her to care for Charlotte after school. Her husband, Hank, is a retired lawyer, ran the town legal practice for the past thirty years. And I've met a few teachers at school when I went down to enroll Charlotte."

  "You’ll be fine," Debra said and Adam was grateful for the confidence in her voice.

  "And we’re only an hour away," Mike added.

  Adam nodded. "I know we’ll be fine. And you know what? I love it here already." He breathed in the air. The scent of Fall. Of dirt and fine days and laughter. Of fun.

  Of family.

  Of his new home.

  Of the knowledge that now he really was doing it alone. For the first time in six years he was being a father, without his family ten minutes down the road to pitch in and help.

  Had he made a mistake?

  Had he been chasing some illusion of happiness, a panacea to the years that had taken a toll on himself – and his family?

  No.

  He breathed in deep, felt it deal to the dread sitting low in his stomach.

  And hoped like hell that dread wasn't a portent of things to come.

  "Are you sure you don't want to stay for lunch?" Bridget Christie prodded, standing on the front porch of her bungalow as her friend flung open the door of her convertible.

  Caroline dropped her overnight bag on the passenger seat. "I’d love to but I’ve really got to get back. I’m showing an apartment at two so I better get home and make myself beautiful for all the prospective buyers."

  She squinted up at Bridget, her long brown hair in need of some serious styling after a night crashing on Bridget’s couch. "You know what? That was a heck of a night."

  "I’m glad you talked me into going."

  "When I ring up my friend and she’s sitting at home with her face in a bowl of ice cream, there's no way I'm sitting by and not helping."

  Bridget grinned at the exaggeration but it hadn’t been far off the truth. She'd met up with Diana and their friend, Farrell. They'd spent hours at a restaurant in the city, stayed out way beyond midnight, she and Caro had come back and drunk too much wine and she hadn’t laughed like that in… Years? She hated to think.

  "There is one thing though," Caroline called out as she slung on her seatbelt. "One thing we managed to avoid discussing the whole night."

  Bridget walked down the porch steps, noticed the paint was cracking badly. The house needed work. Lots of work. She looked away. "What’s that?"

  Caroline reached for her sunglasses. "Phillip."

  Bridget let out a silent groan. "I’m not talking about Phillip."

  "Then you’ve got your head in the clouds. The man just asked you to marry him and if you want my advice–"

  "I'm not asking."

  "Just don't do anything rash. Don't make a decision either way, not yet. Farrell agrees. You’re confused. I can see that."

  Understatement of the year. "You think I’ll say 'yes' and doom my life?"

  Caroline’s eyes widened. "I think you’ll say 'no' and miss out on a life."

  A movement by the fence, a blast of pink color, caught her gaze. A girl was peering through a gap.

  "It looks like you’ve got a visitor," Caroline said. "I guess that’s your new neighbor."

  Bridget hadn’t even noticed the new neighbors but then she’d been out of state visiting the boys, had caught up with old friends and had only arrived back yesterday.

  "A girl," Bridget murmured. "I heard a family was moving in. George Summerville was determined to sell the house to the right people, people who'd love the place like he did. He said a small family had bought it."

  "Well, she looks pretty cute from here." Caroline switch
ed on the ignition and gave the car an unnecessary roar.

  "Call me later," Bridget said. "Let me know how it goes with that apartment. I hate to think what those vendors are paying in commission."

  "I’ve had some major interest in this place and you wouldn’t believe the view looking out to the range. Could be a big celebration."

  "Good luck. And thanks again for last night. You and Farrell are terrific friends."

  "Any time. And I mean it. Any time."

  Bridget waved as the convertible headed off down the road. Friends were everything, especially Caroline. She'd been a rock and had prevented Bridget from going crazy these past few months. She glanced back at her place, a four-bedroom house with just herself and the cat rattling around inside. Two years ago there'd been Jon and Liam as well. Last year Jon had left home when he'd got a place at a university out of state. Liam had joined him.

  A cough snapped through her thoughts, and she turned to the fence and to the face peering through the slats at her.

  The neighbors.

  Even now after eight years of living next door to George and Flo Summerville, Bridget still couldn’t believe the couple had sold up and gone. They'd been like parents to her, grandparents to her boys. They’d made her transition from fast-paced city life to slow country town easy, an ease she hadn’t anticipated.

  The new owner had huge boots to fill.

  Bridget went up to the fence and bent down so she was eye-level at the timber slats with the girl. "Hi," she said.

  The girl stared wide-eyed back. "Have you got a cat?"

  "I do."

  "A big orange one?"

  "So you’ve met my cat. Bruce." At least, she thought, he’s meant to be my cat. Sometimes she had the feeling he took liberties all over the neighborhood. "Is he at your place?"

  The girl nodded and Bridget said, "I might have to come and fetch him home then."

  "You don't have to do that." The girl’s wide eyes were blue, the color of the Riverdale sky on a stunning summer day, her long hair pitch black, barely restrained by a band.

  "So do you live here?" Bridget asked.

  The girl nodded.

  "What’s your name?"

  "Charlotte Elizabeth Grainger."

  "Well, Charlotte, mine’s Bridget."

  "Not Mrs. Something?"

  "Not to you. Just Bridget."

  "What did you say your cat’s name was?"

  "Bruce."

  "That’s not a cat’s name."

  She grinned. "You know what? I totally agree with you. But my boys named him that and it kind of stuck."

  Her mouth gaped open. "Boys? You have kids? Can we play?"

  "They don't live at home anymore. They’re away at a university. They’re going to become animal doctors."

  A frown crossed Charlotte’s face and she said, "My dad told me there'd be heaps of kids to play with but we’ve hardly seen any, only old people."

  No doubt at 36 Bridget was one of those old people. "I’ll show you something," she said. "Not a lot of people know about this but it's a secret way to get from your place to mine." She pointed to the back of the section, and in a flash, the girl had taken off and Bridget walked down. When she reached it, she peered over.

  Charlotte was patting the slumberous Bruce. She looked up. "I love him."

  Smiling, Bridget began to pull back some of the creeper from the fence, tugged hard until it had loosened, then began to push at the gate. It took several heaves – the bolt had rusted – and then she pushed it open and stepped through.

  Charlotte’s eyes lit up. "A top secret gate."

  "The boys used to come through the gate to your house all the time when they were small." Bridget glanced back up toward the house and wondered if Charlotte Elizabeth Grainger’s parents would mind their daughter popping through the fence the way Jon and Liam had. Or would they guard their privacy staunchly, even forbid their daughter to visit? Bridget tucked a red flower into Charlotte’s pink head band. "How old are you, Charlotte?"

  "I’m going to be seven soon."

  "Seven. That is such a good age." She glanced at the house again. "I'd like to come over and say hello to your parents. Are your mom and dad home?"

  "It’s just me and my dad." She kicked out at a loose piece of bark on the grass, then gasped as Bruce came up and his furry body rubbed against her calves.

  Squatting, she began to pat him in long strokes. "I don't have a Mom anymore."

  Bridget bit down on her bottom lip. So Charlotte had only one parent. Just like her boys.

  But losing a mother?

  Had her mother died? Had the marriage broken up and she’d left, and hadn’t wanted to take her child with her?

  And it’s none of your business.

  "Come and sit on the swing," Charlotte said, her voice light and sing-song. And irresistible. But even so. It was a stranger’s home now.

  Bridget followed her towards the flimsy construction and fudged, "I might be too big."

  "My dad went on to test it," she said, "and he’s way bigger than you."

  It was tempting. The last time she’d been on a swing would have been when the boys were in grade school, when they’d lived in the city. Before she moved out here to leave that old life behind to try and get a grip on the one she needed to make for her sons. "Well, if you’re sure your dad is really bigger than me?"

  Charlotte stood with her arms outstretched. "Way bigger."

  "Okay then. Here goes my dignity." Bridget sat on the wooden board, gripped the ropes, and pushed herself off. She shivered at the giddy rise and fall of her body, of her hair around her face and for a moment she allowed herself to forget that her life was at a crossroads and that she had no idea which path to turn down.

  For now, as she pushed herself higher and higher to Charlotte's high-pitched encouragement, she let a long forgotten feeling of absolute joy take over and let herself forget all about her life.

  And the confusion surrounding it.

  Adam Grainger opened his front door and came face-to-face with a man of medium height and brown hair who had purpose gleaming in his eyes.

  "Dr Grainger?" he queried, holding out his hand.

  Adam nodded, shook his hand. "Adam Grainger."

  "I phoned earlier this week. I’m Phillip Craig, president of the local Business Association. Here to welcome you to Riverdale."

  Adam remembered. Phillip Craig had called a few days ago and left a message saying he'd call back. He thought Adam might benefit from meeting a few of the locals.

  It was a nice gesture and he appreciated the show of friendship, but he’d leave the socializing to Charlotte. His idea of downtime involved a long, slow run or a movie. Not sitting around a table getting into a heated argument over civic affairs. He stepped back. "Come on in."

  "Actually," Phillip said as he followed Adam down the hall, "it’s quite a co-incidence you bought George Summerville’s place. My girlfriend lives next door." He beckoned to the western side.

  "She’s the teacher?"

  Phillip waggled his hand. "She teaches marketing when there’s a course on at one of the local institutes. But mainly, she writes for text books."

  "She’s got the ginger cat?"

  "Bruce." Phillip's mouth tightened.

  Doesn’t like cats, Adam surmised. He wondered how that little fact went down with Miss Christie. So far his new neighbor was turning out to be a stereotype – she lived alone and she owned a cat. She probably read Jane Austen, too.

  "I‘m a landscape designer," Philip explained. "Cats aren’t my favorite creatures."

  "Aaah. I understand completely."

  "Here’s my card." He handed it over and said, "You’ve got a great yard here. Have you spent much time outside?"

  "Not too much. But my daughter loves it. We lived in a townhouse before with a courtyard so a piece of land like this is new to her. Which reminds me…"

  He went over to the French doors looking out across the back yard. He hadn’t seen Charl
otte for over half an hour. He’d heard her, though. Heard her laughter, heard her chatting to herself and to that cat, and he marveled that he felt so safe she was out there alone.

  Except she wasn’t alone.

  That thought froze on his mind as his gaze zeroed in on the woman sitting on the swing, her blonde hair flying out behind her as she pushed herself higher.

  Part of him was intrigued. Correction. All of him was intrigued. He was about to take a step to introduce himself, to find out what a stranger, especially a gorgeous blonde stranger, was doing in his backyard when Phillip turned to him.

  "I see," he commented, "that Bridget is here."

  Charlotte's Wish is available on Amazon, along with book 2 of the series, Finding Farrell.