by Lois Richer
She pressed her lips together and lifted the lid. A model sat inside—a hotel model. She lifted it out, found a small card underneath.
Proposed development for Serenity Bay.
It had to be her father. Obviously he’d come to town and when he’d found her car unlocked he’d slipped this into the backseat, too chicken to face her outright.
Piper set the model down, grabbed the phone and dialed the number from memory. Her father never went anywhere without his cell phone.
As soon as it was answered she burst out.
“How could you? How dare you? This is my project. Keep—” She paused.
“—leave a message,” his voice ordered in that gruff, overbearing tone. A beep, then silence.
Piper thought for a moment then slowly hung up the phone.
She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. If he wanted to know where she was, his company spies would soon find her. If he wanted to talk to her, let him do the calling.
Suddenly she recalled those bright lights. Her stomach sank. It had been him. She was sure of it. He’d hung around, then followed her home. But he hadn’t had the guts to face her.
She walked over to the mantel, picked up Vance’s photo and stared into his beloved eyes.
“Why couldn’t you have talked to me then, Daddy?” she whispered, her finger sliding over the precious cheeks, so gaunt from cancer treatments that hadn’t worked. “Where were you when I needed you most?”
Several moments passed before Piper set the frame back on the mantel. Vance was gone, pain-free, in heaven, with God. And Baron was still out of her life. Apparently that’s the way he wanted it. There was no point in getting trapped in the past again. She’d come to Serenity Bay in search of the future.
The kettle whistled and she made herself a cup of mint tea, pinching the leaves before she dropped them into the strainer, just as Gran always had. While it steeped, she studied the small model her father had left.
The main floor lobby lay open to the street level, a kind of piazza fronting it. She could imagine people gathered there, sipping lemonade on a hot day, admiring an ice sculpture in winter. The perfect place to hold all kinds of events.
The second floor restaurant and dining room overlooked the water with big Palladian windows, their arches emphasized by molding that lent it a European style. Each of the rooms had a balcony large enough for two chairs and a table.
When she turned the scale view around she could see where the spa was located, the treatment rooms. An indoor pool had been included. It was bounded by huge glass doors that could open to a terrace with steps down to a rose garden and lawn below. A tiny sign indicated tennis courts, horseshoes and a golf course beyond. It was not the usual Wainwright style.
It was exactly the kind of hotel Jason wanted for the Bay.
But there was no way he could see this. To let Baron create this hotel, here, in Serenity Bay, would be a sacrilege to her grandparents. They’d savored happy times with their daughter here, stayed to mourn after her death.
This had been their paradise, a pure, unspoiled place of natural beauty untouched by greed, manipulation and anger—everything Baron Wainwright stood for. Even if he created everything he showed in the model, which Piper didn’t believe he would, she didn’t want him here, leaving the Wainwright impression on the only place she called home.
Piper knew she should destroy it, get rid of the evidence now and find someone else to build. But she couldn’t bring herself to crush the tiny edifice that must have taken hours to create.
So she returned it to the box and stuffed it into a closet, out of sight, just as the phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID and froze.
“Piper? It’s your father. Are you there?”
She couldn’t move. Even her gaze stayed riveted to the phone.
“I saw your number when I turned my phone on. I’m glad you called. We need to talk.”
No, they didn’t. Not now. Not ever.
“I wish you were there. I have so much to say to you.” Baron’s voice sounded different, quieter, more introspective. “Okay, well, if you want to talk, you know how to reach me. Bye, honey.”
The machine beeped then clicked off, its tiny red light flashing a reminder. In order to erase it, she had to listen to the message again. Tears welled but she gritted her teeth and got through it, then hit the erase button.
“Why, Dad? Why couldn’t you have been the father I needed? Why can’t you say you’re sorry?”
Finally she turned and walked to her bedroom.
There were no answers.
Tomorrow morning she’d accelerate her hunt for a hotel developer.
Chapter Eight
He’d done it again!
Jason walked through the door and took his place at the meeting table as if she’d personally invited him—which she had not!
This was no time to pitch a fit but Piper decided that once they were finished she’d lock herself in her office until she came up with a plan to force Mayor Franklin to back off. His need for control exposed his similarity to her father more now than she’d ever imagined. And that was not a good thing.
She held her temper and called the meeting to order. When it was finally adjourned she was ready to hit the roof.
“Thank you all for coming. Let me know if you run into problems.”
“Good meeting. This recreation board seems to be eager to get started on your ideas now that we’re into the heat of the summer.” Jason leaned against the board table, his smile appreciative. “You look beautiful, by the way,” he said, for her ears only.
“Thank you.” She felt the heat rise to her cheeks as he assessed the white silk jacket and skirt she’d chosen for today. She needed to think of something to get him off her case and she couldn’t think with him in the room.
Thankfully, Ida chose that moment to enter and hand her a pile of messages.
“The top two are urgent,” she grumbled. “I’m going to lunch.”
“Thanks, Ida.” Piper scanned the first one, realizing it gave her the excuse she needed for privacy. “Excuse me, Jason, but I need to answer these.”
He followed her out of the room, but when she turned to close her door, he stepped back, one eyebrow lifted.
“I’m sorry, Jason, but this is personal.”
“Sure. When you get a minute, I’d like to talk about an idea I have. Call me at the marina. I’ve got bookings all afternoon.”
“Okay, I’ll do that.” Piper closed the door, leaned against it and heaved a sigh. Then she walked to her desk, picked up her cell and dialed. “Can you talk?”
“Sure. I’m on a lunch break. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong, exactly. Can’t I just call you?”
“Sure.” Rowena’s voice brimmed with laughter. “But you sound steamed. So what’s going on?”
“That man is going to drive me around the bend!”
“That man being the mayor, correct?”
“Oh, don’t sound so smug.” Piper swallowed her last words before she said something else to give herself away.
“What did he do now?”
“Most recently? He waltzed into a meeting I was having with a group who’s thinking of establishing a summer camp for the mentally disadvantaged. Anyway, they’ll be located about ten miles from town, but they wanted to see what we had to offer. Jason just sat himself down and took over the meeting.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing’s wrong with it, except that all the questions he asked, I already knew. I was hoping to get more details about other plans they have. Two hundred campers renting town facilities of any kind would certainly bring in some money, particularly because they have an autumn camp and a spring camp—traditionally slow seasons around here.”
Piper slapped a pile of reports Ida had left onto her console in an effort to suppress her ire. “He’s driving me nuts!”
“So get him something to do.” Rowena’s voice sounded muffled.
>
“Are you laughing at me?”
“Pip, would I do that?”
“Yes!” She thought for a moment. “He’s already busy. The fishermen are coming by the boatload, excuse the pun. The fishing derby we sponsor seems to be a big draw.”
“He’s not busy enough or he wouldn’t be at your meeting. Didn’t Ash tell me you said he did the same thing last week, twice?”
“Yes, he did.”
“But you were more forgiving then because he’d fed you dinner and kissed you, huh?”
“I wish I’d never told either of you that,” she grumbled, her face on fire. If Ida walked in now—
“Too late. We know. And we’re going to use it against you.” Rowena chuckled. “Seriously, Pip, he seemed like a nice guy. He sounds a little obsessed, maybe, but if this is his dream, as you’ve said, he probably just wants to make sure nothing spoils it.”
“You know, I have done this kind of thing once or twice before. And I’m working my fanny off to make sure his dream comes true. I can’t make him trust me.”
“No, you can’t do that.” The sound of a crunch transmitted over the line.
“Where are you, Row?”
“In a very posh part of Toronto, seated in the backyard, on a rich lady’s lawn, eating an apple. She’s watching me out the window. I think she’s been on the phone to my boss but she’s only emerged once and I don’t think she’ll do that again.”
“Why? What happened?”
Rowena snickered. “I asked her to help me with a juniper. A seven-foot one. She got dirt on her fresh manicure. And on her poodle.”
Piper could imagine her friend doing exactly that. She had to laugh at the mental picture it created.
“I can imagine she hightailed it out of there fast. Poor thing. Just because you like grubbing around doesn’t mean everyone does.”
She closed her eyes, imagining Rowena, never happier than in a garden, clad in her favorite tattered jeans and a T-shirt that said, The Earth Laughs in Flowers. After studying gardening in England, Row took a part-time job and parlayed it into manager of landscaping for a well-known nursery. Now her designs were winning awards all over.
“Don’t feel too sorry for her, Pip. We finished her pool and hot tub yesterday. She can rinse her nails off in there.” Rowena said something to someone then came back on. “I’ve got to go. A truckload of bedding plants just arrived and I want them planted in a certain way so I guess I have to do it myself. Call me tonight and we’ll think up a new strategy.”
“It’s okay,” Piper murmured as an idea blossomed. “I think you’ve given me the best advice I could get. Don’t work too hard.”
“I will. Bye.”
Piper set the phone aside, pulled her calendar near and scoured it with a tiny smile.
“Mr. Franklin, you’re about to become more involved than you ever imagined.”
*
“Sorry, boss. You never said you wanted me to work today and I’ve got a date. Her family’s here on vacation,” Andy said.
“Wish I was,” he muttered.
“Huh?”
“Never mind.”
“Okay. See you tomorrow.”
Jason frowned. The kid was far too young to date. Muttering about the irresponsibility of youth, he pulled off the top of an outboard and started tinkering with the spark plugs.
Just when he’d almost got it, the phone started ringing. Again. He turned to pick it up, knocking his screwdriver into the water.
“Franklin’s,” he growled into the receiver.
“Hi, Jason. Is something wrong?”
Wrong? What could be wrong? He’d been locked into meetings for four hours this morning, breathing in Piper’s exotic perfume and watching those elegant fingers take notes while some company discussed upgrading the town’s boat launches or the kind of seed a golf course would need or how many people it would take to rejuvenate the kiddie park.
After lunch Piper had included him in a meeting with government officials who asked a heap of silly questions ten times over, and took more notes than any bureaucracy could ever use.
He was heartily sick of meetings.
“I’m sorry if I’m bothering you, Jason.” Her voice was too soft, too sweet.
“No bother.”
“Good. Well, you said you wanted to be kept up to speed and I’ve scheduled a meeting with some magazine people who are going to help plan an ad campaign for our reunion next year. I know you want to be involved so we’re thinking we’ll meet about eight tomorrow morning. It’s an all-day thing.”
“All day?” Seventy-eight degrees, a little breeze and bright sunshine. He was supposed to toss all that to sit in an office and discuss advertising?
“Maybe two days,” she corrected.
“Listen, Piper. Don’t think I don’t care, but we’re getting into my busiest season and I have to be at the marina more. If you could handle this, I’d sure appreciate it. Just this once.”
“Well,” she temporized. “If you’re sure. I don’t want you to feel left out or anything.”
Why suddenly so meek? She never…suddenly Jason got it.
“Okay, you can stop now. I’m on to you.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
But he heard the laughter underneath that velvet tone.
“Just for that, you’re buying me dinner tonight.”
“Well.” She giggled. “If you think you can get away—”
“Six-thirty,” he ordered. “Here. And don’t think I’ll settle for some puny salad like you’re always munching on. I’ve been slowly dying in your boring meetings, and killing myself trying to keep up here. I need sustenance. Red meat is the only acceptable peace offering.”
“Have you got a barbecue?”
“Piper—”
“Never mind. It was a silly question. How about if I pick up a couple of steaks and we grill them at your place. I don’t expect you’ve got time to come to mine?”
“You’re right about that.” His mouth was already watering. “Have you got time to grill steaks?”
“Jason,” she chided in a teasing tone.
He laughed. “Never mind. Silly question. Nobody who’s as good at juggling seven different balls would find fitting in a meal difficult. Six-thirty?”
“Deal.”
She was as good as her word. She arrived promptly at six-thirty and started grilling two steaks. She wouldn’t let him help, so he fixed three engines while succulent aromas drifted to his nose.
“They’re ready.”
“Perfect.” He scrubbed his hands, washing away the grease and oil with his special cleaner. “Another hour and the fishermen will be coming back. Lots of time to eat.”
Piper had shed her jacket to display the sleeveless burgundy tank top underneath that showed off her delicately tanned arms. Her legs were bare and shoeless beneath her skirt, displaying her red toenails. In his mind red had become her signature color—the red of long-stemmed roses.
“You sit down, I’ll serve.”
He sat and watched, amazed by her ability to create this feast in such a short time.
“New potatoes, fresh garden asparagus, biscuits and the pièce de résistence—steak. Medium. I hope.”
“Wow.” He savored all of it, remembered he hadn’t had lunch and that cinnamon roll for breakfast seemed a long time ago. “This is great. Where did you get all the vegetables?”
“My place. Gran always had a little garden patch so I planted a few things. I ran home and picked them up after work. I actually picked the asparagus last night.”
“You planned this?” he asked, pausing with his fork halfway to his mouth.
“I was hoping you’d cave in pretty soon.” Her eyes sparkled with fun, her curls danced with an electricity that turned them as black as coffee without cream in the soft overhead light.
He opened his mouth to protest, then closed it. He’d been an idiot.
“Are you mad?” she asked hesitantly, as if afraid to h
ear.
“Furious.” He chomped down on another bite of steak, closed his eyes and let the flavors hit his tongue. “Enraged,” he added after swallowing.
“I did try to tell you,” she murmured, watching him from beneath her lashes.
“Yes, you did. But I have this thing about trust. I should have listened to you. I’d get twice as much done. I apologize for ever questioning you.”
“You don’t have to.” She picked at her own meat, a tiny portion a quarter the size of his. “It’s just—” She laid down her fork, looked him straight in the eye. “It’s important to me, too, Jason. I won’t do anything to jeopardize Serenity Bay’s future. You can believe that.”
“I do.”
The moment stretched between them.
Jason could have stared at her forever, but in twenty minutes, half an hour tops, there’d be a horde of fishermen returning his boats, so he kept eating until his plate was clean.
“Thanks for making dinner. It was great.”
“You’re welcome.” Her smile stretched from ear to ear. “But we’re not finished yet. I made a cake last night. Coconut. Do you want some?”
“Silly question,” he said.
She giggled.
“Okay, here it is.” He stared at the confection she presented to him. Fully three layers high, covered in white icing and golden, toasted coconut, it begged to be sampled.
She cut a slice, laid it on a plate and handed it to him. “Tell me if I goofed.”
He lifted a bit on his fork, placed it on his tongue and let his taste buds decide.
“Is it bad?” she asked, her brows drawn together. “I haven’t made it in a long time. I guess I’m out of practice.”
“Terrible,” he agreed. Then he took another bite.
“You don’t have to eat it. I’ll throw it out.” She rose, lifted the cake, her face drawn, slightly pale.
He grasped her wrist, lifted the cake away and took her other hand.
“Teasing, Piper. I was teasing. It’s great. Light, fluffy. It’s perfect.”
“It’s my grandmother’s recipe.” She stood, her wrists encased by his hands, and met his stare. “She always made a coconut cake every time I came home.” Her voice dropped. “She said coconut is to celebrate happy times and being together.”