by Lois Richer
“Who are you suggesting, then?” he demanded, his gaze narrowed.
“I’m still checking into that. Ida mentioned a couple of local people who may be interested.”
“Locals?” Jason’s forehead furrowed. “I was hoping for someone with enough resources to make a big impact. I’m not sure a small local venture is—”
“It might be exactly what we want. The personal touch and all that. Besides,” she reminded him, “we can hardly turn away their request for development. We don’t want to be guilty of bias. The friendly, small-town aura a local would offer could be an asset, don’t you think? Wainwright is known for their big, expensive hotels. Intimidating to some.”
He didn’t look convinced.
Piper changed the subject and by the time the meal was finished, Jason had completely forgotten about Wainwright—she hoped. She insisted on paying for his meal. After all, he’d listened to her ideas. She could tell Jason wasn’t happy about that situation, either.
“I’ll agree, as long as you let me buy next time.”
“Agreed. Thank you.” So there’d be a next time? Piper checked her watch. “I’d better head home. I’ve got a lot of notes to make. I don’t want to forget anything we’ve discussed.”
“You really get caught up in a project, don’t you?” he asked, head inclined to one side.
“What can I say?” She grinned, spread her hands. “I love my job.”
He walked her to Shalimar, waited while she stowed her briefcase. But the engine wouldn’t start.
“That’s odd. It was working well this morning.”
“I didn’t notice you sailing over,” he murmured.
“You were probably still sleeping. I was in a bit of a hurry to get to work.” Casting all your cares on Him for He cares for you. It was a promise of God’s and yet she couldn’t just leave her father to Him, could she? She had to stop Wainwright cold—before Baron got a foot in the door. She pushed the start button again. Nothing. “I wonder what’s wrong.”
“Can I take a look?”
“You don’t mind?”
“Truthfully?” He waited for her nod, then climbed aboard. “I’ve wanted to check this baby out since the first day I saw her.”
She unlocked the door to below, waved a hand, then chuckled at the speed he used to uncover and display the motor.
“I never would have guessed you were interested in her. Well?”
“When and where did you last fuel up?” he asked after tinkering a few moments. He touched a spot of something, rubbed two fingers together.
“Yesterday. At home.” She saw tiny bits of grit on his fingertips. “What’s that?”
“If I was guessing, I’d say sugar. Or salt. Whichever, it’s going to have to be cleaned out. Thoroughly. You can’t go home in her tonight for sure.”
“How would salt or sugar get in my gas?”
Jason held her gaze, his own open, thoughtful.
“Someone put it there.”
“Someone…?”
He shrugged. “I doubt it happened here. Andy or someone would have noticed.” He checked the lock on the boat’s entry door to below. “Doesn’t look like anyone’s tampered with this. Maybe it’s your tank at home.”
“The whole tank?” She stared at him. “I just had it filled.”
“Do you keep it locked up?”
“Of course. In fact, it’s inside the boat shed. You have to have a key to get inside. Besides, I did cross the bay this morning. Could I have done that if it had been in the tank from Cathcart House?”
“No,” he admitted with a frown.
Piper didn’t like where this was leading. First someone had been in the house. Now her fuel had been sabotaged. She’d have to call the police again.
“Do you want me to run you home?” Jason closed up the motor and replaced the door, sealing it from the rest of the boat. “It’s no problem.”
“That’s kind of you. But I have my car. I’ll drive.” She dug through her bag for her car keys. “Would you be able to fix the motor, maybe tomorrow? I’ve really begun to enjoy those trips across the water.”
“Sure.” He held out his hand for her to grasp, waited till she’d stepped on the dock, then accepted the key for the boat after she’d locked up. “I’ll get at it tomorrow morning.”
“Thanks.” His hand still held hers and Piper decided she liked it. Part of her wanted to keep her hand in his but the other part told her to act like a businesswoman. So she drew her fingers away. “Let me know when it’s ready.”
“I will.” Jason’s gaze held hers. An odd light glinted in his blue-grey eyes. “Drive carefully,” he murmured.
“Uh-huh.” Feeling utterly self-conscious, Piper walked across the lot to her car, unlocked it and stepped inside. She adjusted the rearview mirror, saw Jason had remained where she’d left him.
Calling herself a fool, she shifted into First and pulled away, but couldn’t help fluttering her fingers in a last wave. Jason remained where he was.
Watching.
Piper drove the switchback road as twilight fell on the greening hills. As she gained the last crest, a small deer bobbed out from the bushes forcing her to slam on the brakes. Startled and slightly unsettled, she paused to draw a deep breath and settle her nerves before moving on.
Below her, Cathcart House lay nestled into the crook of the hill. The yard lights switched on as she watched, illuminating the budding rose garden her grandmother had coaxed to beauty each summer. Piper was ready to employ the lessons she’d learned to woo the biggest blooms from those bushes.
Her hand touched the gearshift just as Piper glimpsed a shadow by the hot tub move. Her breath caught in her throat as the figure lifted the lid, dumped something inside, then set the lid back in place. A moment later the intruder slipped into the darkened woods leaving no trace of a visit.
Call the police? Or check out the tub first? If it was nothing, just a nosy neighbor, she’d rather find that out for herself.
But a neighbour would have asked to use the tub first.
Piper sat in her car trying to imagine who would sneak into her yard. It had to be the kids from Lookout Point.
She put the car in gear and slowly glided down the hill.
“I’m an idiot, God. It’s gotten so I suspect everyone. I want to get over that but with Dad—it’s hard. Please help me.”
She pulled into the yard. The place looked the same as she’d left it this morning.
Piper unlocked the door, carried her things inside, then moved to the deck. With a flick of a switch the entire area was illuminated.
No one.
“I need to soak in that tub and do some serious praying,” she muttered.
She lifted the cover of the tub to turn on the jets and immediately stepped backward as a pungent odor filled the air.
Just then she heard a rustle behind her.
“You can come out now, Dad. And you can quit playing these silly games. It doesn’t matter what you do. I’m not leaving Serenity Bay.”
Piper waited for Baron to slip out from the shadows. Nothing could have prepared her for the sight of Jason.
Chapter Five
“What are you doing here?” Piper asked, her voice ragged, harsh-sounding in the quiet of the forest surrounding them. The tremble of her voice bothered him.
“After you left, I spotted some unusual lights flashing over here. At first I was going to ignore them, but then I thought about the salt in your tank and decided to check things out. Didn’t you hear my boat?”
“No. I didn’t hear anything.” She sounded odd—confused as she glanced around as if searching for something—or someone.
“What happened?” He took her arm, guided her toward a chair and when she was seated, squatted in front of her. “What’s wrong?”
“What makes you think something’s wrong?”
He raised an eyebrow, glanced at her fingers clenching the side of the chair. “Call me intuitive?”
She made
a face, then explained about the shadow and the excess chlorine. He noticed the strong odor as well.
“If you breathe in too much of the fumes they can do damage,” she whispered. “Not to mention the effect on the skin.”
He watched as she opened the small door of a niche, pulled out a plastic box which held various chemical bottles. She chose a pack of test strips, threw open the lid and when the cloud of steam disappeared, dipped one strip into the water.
Then she compared the dark navy square with the normal shade on the bottle.
“Way too much.”
He noted absently how the tub seemed to fit into the deck, as if it had been built when the original house had been erected, though given the age of the house, that wasn’t likely. “Do you keep the chlorine out here?”
She shook her head. “Never.”
“So they brought their own. Nice of them to think of it since they’re using your tub.” In Jason’s opinion, Piper was too pale. “I’m going to call Bud Neely, ask him to take a look.”
“There’s nothing the police chief can do.” She put the test strips into the box, returned the kit to its storage place.
“You don’t know that.” Something about her body language, the way she looked at him, pricked his curiosity. “Do you?”
He could hardly believe what he saw register on her face.
“You saw someone—a prowler’s been out here before?”
“Yes. A couple of times, I think.”
“When?” He thought a minute. “The night I brought you home?” Every hair on his arms stood up. “You mentioned seeing a shadow.”
“Yes. I’ve seen something several times. But it may not be as bad as it sounds. I think my visitors have something to do with Lookout Point,” she told him. “There are always kids going up there to meet each other. Even when I was a teen it was a popular place. I’m sure those were the lights you saw.”
“Maybe. But, Piper, this isn’t just a prank. It’s dangerous. If you hadn’t noticed—” He stopped, hating to finish the thought.
“Not necessarily dangerous,” she amended. “Chlorine is one thing you smell as soon as you open the hot tub lid. After you add it, you’re supposed to leave the tub open to circulate and off-gas. Since the lid was closed immediately, the smell was kept inside. I’m sure I noticed something wasn’t right as soon as I lifted the lid.”
She touched a button on the control panel that soon had the jets whirring. Clouds of steam rose upward. Along with them, the odor of chlorine dissipated into the night air.
“I’m calling Bud anyway. If he can’t come out tonight, he or someone from the department can make a trip tomorrow and check things out.” Jason frowned as he scanned the woods, saw the flicker of lights some distance away. “I don’t think it’s advisable to have Lookout Point open after dark. The terrain’s rugged up here.”
“There’s hardly a reason to have a Lookout Point if you close it after dark,” she murmured. “The lure of the place is the darkness. And the scenery, of course.”
“What do you mean?”
“Teenagers. Moonlight. You can’t have forgotten. You’re not that old!” Piper smiled at him, her wide mouth tilted in a teasing grin.
Jason found himself blushing as he wondered what it would be like to go to Lookout Point with Piper. “Watch it,” his brain warned.
“Thank you for your concern,” she said, her voice back to normal. “You came a long way just to make sure. That warrants a reward.”
“What did you have in mind?” he asked, his brain still busy with thoughts of moonlight and Piper Langley.
“I have some apple pie, if you’re interested. And I could make some tea.”
“You don’t have to.” Jason stopped when she cast a look behind her at the call of an owl. She was still nervous. “But I’d love some pie.”
“Great. Come on inside.” She led the way into the house, turning on lights as she went. “Make yourself comfortable.”
After that first interview, before she’d moved here, whenever he’d thought of Piper, Jason envisioned chrome, glass and glittering stainless steel. Cathcart House was as far from that as the prairies were from Serenity Bay.
Big, comfy chairs and couches lay scattered around a room with vistas on three sides, hidden now by the night. Jason sat down in a leather recliner placed near a fireplace and found it exceedingly comfortable.
“I love this chair,” he told her.
“So did my grandfather. Some of the chintz Gran favored went to the city with them and was later sold off, but that chair had to stay here.”
“You said you stayed with them?” he asked, hoping his curiosity wouldn’t show too much.
“After my mother died. I came here mostly for summers and Christmas. I went to a boarding school the rest of the time.”
That tiny bit of tension in her voice only added to the questions he had about her past, but before he could ask more she was carrying in a big, brown teapot and two chunky mugs to match.
“Can I help?”
“The pie is on the counter. Help yourself.”
He did, then returned to his seat. Once she’d poured the tea he sat back and savored the flavors of cinnamon and cloves he tasted, watching Piper light a fire.
“Did you bake this? It’s great.”
“Nope. Sorry. I went to a bake sale the art guild was having. I wanted to buy something to support them. The pie looked good so I chose it.” She sipped her tea, watching him eat.
“I missed a bake sale?” He frowned. “I never miss bake sales. It’s my one rule.”
“Wow, you’re lucky if you have only one.” She giggled at his dismay. “I think I heard Ida say something about you holding a boating class that day. Don’t feel bad. You can take the rest of it home if you like. I’m not much of a pie eater.” Piper leaned back in the wing chair, her face lit by the flickering fire. “I was thinking about the hotel as I drove home. I have a couple of ideas floating around.”
“Shoot.”
Her head jerked up, her eyes widened. “Excuse me?”
“Go ahead. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
The dark curls bobbed back and forth as she shook her head. “I don’t know if I can.”
“Why not?” Jason put his empty plate on the coffee table, picked up his mug. “Is it some kind of secret?”
“No, of course not.” Piper’s attention was on the fire as she spoke. Her words emerged quiet, hesitant. “It’s just…my brain doesn’t work the way you might expect. I don’t have a hard-and-fast schedule or plan. Nothing is concrete. For now they’re just ideas.”
“So?” Something was going on behind those dark eyes, something that made him curious and set a peculiar little nerve to twitching at the back of his neck. As if she was hiding something. “Tell me the ideas.”
“It’s not quite that easy, Jason.” She raked a hand through her curls, tousling them even more. “They’re more like nebulous thoughts, glimmers, if you will. I have to let them mull for a while. I ask myself a question, poke around. Things start to gel and then I can really plough ahead. Do you understand?”
He didn’t. Not really. But he tried to sound supportive. “Why don’t you tell me about your glimmers? Maybe we can brainstorm together.”
Jason watched her closely, saw tinges of red dot her cheeks. He understood her embarrassment; the scoffing of some council members when he’d first presented his plan for the Bay still rankled.
“I’m not going to laugh,” he promised.
Piper studied him as if assessing his truthfulness. After a moment she let out a pent-up breath and began speaking.
“This is purely brainstorming,” she warned.
“I know.”
“Serenity Bay is such a perfect name for this place,” she murmured. “I mean, think about it. That word conjures up peace, relaxation, no worries—all the things you want a vacation spot to be. But it has to work for everybody. Moms, dads, kids, seniors, young people, rich, not so rich.�
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“Yes,” he agreed, liking what he’d heard so far. Where was this going?
“The beach will take care of a lot of the kids’ entertainment. Then, of course, there’s the miniature golf course and I expect other venues will pop up as time passes.”
“But.” He knew he heard it in there somewhere.
“But I got dreaming about a real golf course. Is it feasible? Could the town chip in enough land or perks, something that would make it attractive for a developer to put in his hotel, include a pool, a couple of conference rooms and maybe nine holes of golf?”
Jason stared. He opened his mouth but she held up a hand when he would have spoken. Her smile held a hint of self-mockery.
“In the beginning I thought, not too luxe. But if a businessman or woman brought their family along, while attending a training seminar in the hotel’s conference rooms—wouldn’t having some nearby links make sense? You know—meet for a round of golf and not feel guilty because the rest of the family are enjoying their own activities. Think about Banff. That’s their draw. The scenery, something for everybody. We have that right here.”
“Wow!” He couldn’t help admiring her ideas.
“I know you think it’s too big, nothing like you were envisioning for a start. And I agree. It’s just one of those ideas that’s been floating around. Still, thinking ahead could save us problems down the road, if we plan carefully.”
He liked the way she included him, as if they were partners in this venture.
“Wainwright Hotels could certainly offer all of that,” he murmured, assessing her reaction.
Piper’s head jerked the tiniest bit. She turned to look at him but her face gave nothing away.
“They could. But right now I doubt they’re in a position to commit to that much development in an untried area. And they have labor problems.” She held out a piece torn from a newspaper detailing the issues. “Look at this. It’s unlikely we’d command their focus at the moment. I’d prefer to look into other options.”