by Lois Richer
“You keep saying that. Who are these ‘other options’?” he asked. He scanned the report, recognized the facts as those he’d already researched. He set it down, feeling that she was still holding something back.
Then something clicked.
“Piper, is there something you haven’t told me? Some specific reason you don’t want to work with Wainwright?”
She’d been peering at a notepad on the table but now she looked at him directly and blinked. “A reason?”
“Yes.” He felt slightly foolish saying this but if there was a chance… “Have you had some problem working with their team? Because—”
She shook her head, her curls bouncing wildly. “I’ve already told you my reasons. I don’t think Wainwright is a good fit for Serenity Bay.”
“Why?”
Piper fixed him with a hard look.
“This will probably sound sentimental and rather silly but this place was a haven for me. I found so much joy in Serenity Bay that I’m not sure I would have found elsewhere. I’d like to think I was passing it on.” She tilted her head. “I feel like I’ve been given a kind of trust to help develop the Bay. That carries a certain responsibility. I don’t want to ruin this beauty by allowing commercialism to overtake what God made. Do you understand?”
He nodded, feeling a hint of admiration.
“I understand very well. I think that’s one of the reasons I tried so hard to interest you in the job. It’s a goal we share.” He kept his focus on her. “I’ve noticed that whatever you do, a certain flair, a special touch or attention to detail shines through. I think that’s what makes each of your projects stand out from the others. You really care about the result. It’s not just about money for you.”
“No, it isn’t. I think the same is true for you.”
He nodded.
Their eyes met and held. A tiny flicker of current ran between them. Jason watched her moisten her lips, saw the way the fire caught the red undertones in her dark hair. Inside, a tiny ivy of interest sent down another root of interest and sprouted.
Piper could be trusted to help him accomplish this dream. Couldn’t she?
She tried to hide her yawn but couldn’t quite bring it off. Jason rose, carried his cup and plate to the sink.
“I’ll go. You’ve got to be tired after such a long day.”
“Thank you for coming to check up on me.” She walked him to the door. “It wasn’t necessary, but I do appreciate it.”
They stepped outside into a spring fairyland. Her grandmother’s lights twinkled in a misty breeze from the bay.
“I should have noticed the time sooner. I don’t want you to get lost in the fog.” She walked with him down to the jetty, pausing while he untied his boat. “Will you phone me when you get home so I don’t worry that you’re lost out there somewhere?”
Surprise ran through him. It had been a long time since anyone cared enough to ensure he got home safely.
“I’ll call,” he promised softly. Jason reached for her hand, held it lightly. “Thank you for an interesting evening. Whenever I talk to you I always come away thinking of more possibilities for the Bay.”
“That’s why you hired me, isn’t it?” She chuckled, using the cover of her laughter to draw her hand away.
He didn’t miss her reticence, but he didn’t comment on it, either. Instead he climbed into his boat, started the engine and waved.
“I enjoyed the pie, too,” he called. “Good night.”
As he headed across the bay, Jason glanced back once. A single light illuminated Piper still standing at the end of the dock, facing into the breeze.
Then she quickly moved uphill and soon disappeared from sight. He revved the engine and headed home.
“As promised, I’m phoning,” he told her later, relishing the low timber of her voice. “Home safe and sound.”
“I’m glad.”
“You’re all right?” he asked. “No more visitors?”
“Everything’s fine,” she told him. “Good night.”
But even after he’d hung up, after he’d talked to the police, after the lights were out and he was staring out his window over the water, Jason couldn’t shake the niggling worry that everything was not fine.
It was more obvious than ever that Piper didn’t want Wainwright Inc. involved with Serenity Bay and despite her protestations, he still didn’t understand why.
*
“You’re sure about this?” Piper held the phone pressed against her ear, desperate to hear the reassurance she needed. Even the May sun beaming through the window couldn’t chase away her worries.
“As far as I’ve been able to ascertain, there are no concrete plans within the company to push ahead on Serenity Bay. Everything’s been tabled.”
“I see.” Though she was relieved to hear it, questions bubbled in her mind. “Why tabled?”
“Mid-April, Baron ordered a halt on all projects until the problems in London can be investigated and settled. He flew over a week ago to do his usual hands-on checkup. He doesn’t feel the company is sending the right image and you know how obsessive he is about Wainwright Inc. being the top in its field.”
“Believe me, I know.” Probably more than anyone realized. “You’re sure he’s still there?”
“Yes, of course. I’ve been sending my reports there every day. I’m still his personal secretary, Piper.”
“And a very good one. Thank you for letting me know, Tina. I’ve been wondering and your call is very timely.”
“Not a problem. How are you, Piper?”
A shot of warm affection went straight to her heart. Tina had always been like a surrogate mom to her, remembering her birthday, cheering her on. Piper often wondered if Baron knew how much his secretary had done for her.
“I’m fine, Tina. Thrilled to be back on the Bay. Working hard. In fact, our first big promo is scheduled for tomorrow. We’re calling it a Spring Fling. We hope to get some interest from returning cottagers and those who are looking for a summer place.”
“I’m glad. I just wish your grandparents could be there to witness your success.”
“Me, too.” The sting of loss eased a little each time she pulled out another memory, reassuring her that she’d done the right thing in coming back.
Jason appeared in the doorway.
“I’ve got to go, Tina,” she said softly. “Thanks so much for everything. I appreciate it more than you know.”
“You take care of yourself. And come visit soon. You can’t keep hiding from him forever.”
“I know. Bye.” Piper hung up with a mixture of pleasure that Tina hadn’t forgotten her, and sadness that she wouldn’t be able to visit anytime soon. She wouldn’t walk through the doors of Wainwright Inc. again. Not as long as this knot of anger at her father still festered inside.
Let Baron come apologize to her. She was the one who’d been wronged. Sorry, God, but I just can’t forgive him. Not yet. Maybe not ever unless you show me how.
“You look upset. Is it because of the forecast?”
She swiveled in her chair, glancing out the window. The sun was gone. Dark, foreboding clouds were replacing the glorious blue.
“What’s wrong with the forecast?” she asked, frowning at him.
“I just heard on the radio. We’ve got a blast of arctic air coming down. Snow tonight and tomorrow. About two inches.”
“Oh, no!” Piper groaned. “We can’t have snow for Spring Fling.”
“Not my first choice, I agree. But guess what? We are.” He looked remarkably unruffled.
“You aren’t bothered?”
Jason shrugged. “We’ve done the best we can. I’ve certainly spent a lot of hours praying. But I’m not in charge of the weather. If God thinks we need snow, I guess we need snow. There’s nothing I can do to stop it, and I have to trust that He knows what He’s doing.”
“You’re right. I suppose there isn’t. It’s just that we’ve spent so much time organizing everything to th
e nth degree. The weather’s been fantastic. Now snow? What are we going to do?”
“We’re going to handle this. The barbecue will work just as well in the rink. We can get tables set up there.”
“Probably the best place for the kids’ games, too.” She caught his spirit and began writing notes to herself. “The sailing regatta?”
“Let’s just wait and see what happens, I guess.”
“Agreed. The artists are all showing indoors so there’s no problem there. But I was hoping to showcase the potential of the area and snow was not in my plans.” Piper tapped her pencil against her cheek, thinking. “We’ll have to hold some events outside, otherwise we lose our impact. What’s so funny?”
Jason’s chuckles grew louder; his whole body shook with laughter.
“Serenity Bay—a place for all seasons,” he sputtered, holding up the logo and artwork they’d approved to go on all the town correspondence and promo material. “Bet you didn’t know how appropriate that slogan was going to be.”
“Believe me, I had no idea,” she grumbled, irritated by his easygoing outlook on this near disaster.
He laughed harder.
“You’re not helping, you know.” The ideas began to whirl fast and furiously. She scribbled them down with little regard for neatness. If you wanted to offer your assistance, Lord, we might make this work.
“Stop laughing!” she hissed as Jason burst into another chuckle.
“Sorry. I’ll try to control myself.” But the grin remained firmly locked in place.
“If our Spring Fling is going to happen, I’ve got work to do.” Piper grabbed the phone and started dialing.
“Me, too. I’ll talk to you later.” Jason took a note from Ida, grimacing. “This health inspector is getting far too chatty. Can’t you block his calls?”
“No,” Ida snapped as they left the room.
Piper concentrated on the task ahead of her. By the time Jason reappeared she had revised the schedule to accommodate any conditions the weatherman tossed their way.
“That forecast is not getting me down, you know. We’ll have a snowman-building contest if we have to,” she told him, leaning back in her chair and rubbing her neck to ease the knot of tension. “Whatever it takes, we’ll make it work.”
“Snow’s the least of our problems.” He leaned against the door frame, shoulders slumped in a weary pose.
“What now?”
“The campground. They’re full with reservations. Some people have even begun to arrive.”
“And that’s a problem?”
“It will be. Their showers and bathrooms are operational only for summer. Thanks to the chill last night, the pipes froze and some burst. So far the units that have arrived are self-contained, but unless they all are, there won’t be facilities for our visitors. Public health will shut the place down.”
Piper winced, unable to believe that all their work would go for nothing.
“That’s not the worst of it. The tenting area is completely flooded. Nobody can stay there no matter what their equipment. I’ve just gotten a revised forecast and more snow is due. I think we’re going to have to call this off, Piper. I’m sorry.”
Defeat. It washed over her in waves of disappointment and the realization that a major portion of her budget would be wiped out. For nothing.
What a waste.
“There’s nothing we can do?”
“Short of tearing the place down and rebuilding it tonight, no. We’ll have to cancel.”
“Call me an eavesdropper if you want.” Ida stomped into the room, her face more dour-looking than usual. “I can’t believe you two are just going to give up.”
“It’s not our first choice, Ida. Piper’s been on the phone all afternoon trying to work something out.”
A river of warmth spread through Piper at Jason’s quick defense and sturdy support. His style of management was as far from her father’s taciturn orders as it could get.
“We can’t manufacture bathrooms for this many people overnight, Ida,” Piper murmured.
“Maybe you can’t. But you’ve both ignored the biggest resource Serenity Bay has.”
“We have?” Piper blinked, looking to Jason for answers. He shrugged.
“Serenity Bay was started by people who accepted the hardships of this place along with the beauty. People who didn’t give up, didn’t call it quits when the going got tough. The folks around here have hung on for a long time, hoping something would help this place.” Her chin jutted out. “Jason came with his ideas and some of us caught a glimmer of hope that maybe the Bay could be a better place. Then you came along.”
Piper shifted under the beady-eyed scrutiny. “Uh…”
“You put ideas in our heads. The painters and potters, the quilters and silversmiths, the glass artists—all of them, they thought maybe it wasn’t too late for this place. That maybe they could live and work here, bring people in instead of chasing after a sale.” Ida’s bony finger stabbed the air between her and Piper’s face. “We started to think big because of you.”
Piper didn’t know what to say.
“Do you know how many cottages were up for sale when you came? Do you know how many listings have been pulled since you got here?” Ida clamped her hands on her thin hips and glared at them both. “We had more than a hundred places for sale. That’s down to less than thirty since the buzz about this place got out. People were just starting to think it wasn’t quite time to write off the Bay. You quit now and you’ll kill whatever morale there is in this place.”
“I don’t want to cancel, Ida. But what can we do?”
“Call a meeting,” the woman declared, her eyes blazing. “Get the townsfolk together and decide what you’re going to do. Find out their solutions. Give them a chance to be part of the new Serenity Bay.”
As Piper watched the small, vibrant woman, her brain began to simmer with new ideas.
“Why not?” she asked Jason. “What have we got to lose?”
“It’s their town,” he agreed after a moment’s pause. “It should be their decision.”
They both turned to Ida.
“Where do we start?”
“I’ve got phone numbers here.” She split the pages among the three of them. “We’ll call them all, tell them there’s an emergency town-hall meeting tonight at seven o’clock. Tell them it’s urgent they be there. If they fuss at you, mention canceling your Spring Fling.”
Piper nodded, scanned the list of names. But her mind was busy with something else.
“Let’s get to work,” Jason said.
Before either of them could leave, Piper blurted out her idea, the receiver still clasped in her fingers.
“Wait!” They turned to stare at her. “You do know what could solve the biggest part of our tenting problem, don’t you?”
Ida frowned; Jason looked confused.
“Wingate Manor.”
Both faces registered skepticism.
“Doesn’t open till late May, three or more weeks from now,” Jason reminded.
“But someone has been getting the place ready so I know they’re around.” Piper glanced from one to the other, wishing they could envision what she did. “The brothers have been doing repairs for weeks now. Someone told me about their new catering plans. I tried to get an appointment to speak with the Wingates last week. When they didn’t return my call, I drove out there. Have you seen the place lately?”
Jason shook his head.
“They’ve built a great canopied area out in the back that I understand will be used for some kind of summer theater. It’s high and dry,” she said quietly, watching their faces. “Perfect for camping.”
“Camping? At Wingate?” Jason didn’t look impressed.
But Ida caught on. One finger tapped against her bottom lip. “Wingate Manor does have a surplus of bathrooms,” she mused. “The old house was used as a training lodge during the war.”
“How do you know that?” Jason demanded.
“I know a lot of things you don’t,” Ida told him pertly. “I’ve been doing a little research for a local history book I’m working on. Also, Hank and Henry Wingate have kept the ground floor bathrooms updated. Do you know why?”
“No.” Jason watched her, waiting.
“Because they’ve got their eyes on building their business. All those fairy lights in the summer aren’t just pretty. Folks wander the grounds, look at Henry’s lily ponds while they wait for their reservation. They don’t mind waiting when there’s so much to see. And those who have already enjoyed a meal often amble around afterward to take a look at the Wingate gardens—though they’re not up to much yet.”
“My friend Rowena’s landscaping company had a call about working on a project there,” Piper murmured.
“All part of the plan.” Ida looked smug. “Most everybody who goes to Wingate ends up paying to dip something into that chocolate fountain they put out on the patio. Some folks even go to Wingate specially for the high-priced desserts.”
Piper’s brain began to percolate.
“Not that I’m saying it’s a good thing, you understand.” Ida scowled. “The prices those two charge, they should have a full orchestra and black-tux waiters to serenade everybody while they throw away their money.”
“Smart men! The ground-level bathrooms would make it easy for people to stay on the property without bothering the restaurant clientele. Theater groups with facilities nearby would draw even more patrons.” Piper looked at Jason, who was watching Ida.
“If people come just for the desserts, they don’t have to dress up for dinner so the chocolate fountain on the patio makes perfect sense.” Jason nodded. “Very clever.”
“And good for us if we can get them to let us use those bathrooms,” Piper inserted. “Do you think the Wingate brothers will come to the meeting? I mean, they’ve been fairly reclusive. I’d hoped to include their place in our plans for the town but I’m not having a lot of success. Maybe if they came—” Piper glanced from Jason’s sly smile to Ida’s scowling countenance. “What?”
“They’ll come—if Ida asks them.”
“Oh?” She waited for a clue that would explain the flush of color on Ida’s pinched cheeks. “Why?”