“How does it look?” Rylee smiled brightly.
“Not good.” He shook his head. “You’ve got a serious water leak, and these can be complicated.”
“How much is it going to cost?” Rylee set her teacup down on a colorful fabric coaster. She’d made the coasters with a small plastic loom. The loom was probably still tucked away in a box in the attic; it was one of the places she hadn’t been able to face yet.
“I’m still working out the cost,” Jim said, looking at the paper and frowning. “But I think we’re easily into a couple thousand dollars.”
“A couple thousand dollars.” Rylee gasped, running her hand through her hair.
“Sorry for the bad news. But water leaks in the plaster don’t just come from where they are dripping. In your case, it’s actually coming from the roof, but the water ran down the upstairs floorboards before it pooled in the corner over there and caused the plaster damage that you see.”
“The roof needs to be repaired too?” Rylee could barely find her voice.
“It looks like it.” Jim said. “At least on the left-hand side of the home.”
“How soon can someone start work on all of this? I’m hoping to get it on the market as soon as possible.”
Jim frowned. “I’ve got a couple great guys who can do the work, but they’re pretty backed up right now. The new beach grocery superstore is trying to open for the holidays, and the guys are working twenty-four seven. It’ll be at least early December before I can get anyone over here.”
“You’re telling me the work can’t even start until after Thanksgiving?”
“We can patch things up for you,” Jim said. “We want to get the roof fixed first, so you don’t have any more leaks. But the bulk of the interior work, tearing out the ceiling and taking care of the damage, yes, that will all have to wait until the first week of December.”
“I see,” Rylee said, trying to keep herself calm and her nerves steady. “And how long will everything take?”
Jim looked up to the ceiling. “As long as we don’t have any big storms that cause roof damage to people’s homes and pull the guys off the job here, I’d say we’re looking at about a two- to three-week time frame.”
“Two to three weeks.” Rylee mentally ran through the dates. “The work won’t be finished until just before Christmas.”
“That’s right, but,” Jim said, and smiled at her, “that’ll be perfect because people aren’t really looking to buy a house in the holiday season. You can get a good jump on the spring listings in January.”
“Yes,” Rylee muttered. “Perfect.” She had wanted to be out of Cranberry Bay by the end of the month; now it looked like she wouldn’t be able to even get the house on the market for two months. Her savings account would never stretch, let alone cover the repairs. She’d have to find a job and, most likely, take out a small home-equity loan to cover the repairs.
“Do you need some time to think about it?”
“No.” Rylee shook her head. The last thing she wanted was more delays. “Let’s go ahead and schedule. If you can take care of the roof now, I’ll wait until after Thanksgiving for the rest of the work.”
“Sure thing,” Jim said. “I’ll get the guys over here tomorrow morning, and we’ll get everything squared away for you.” He slipped the yellow tablet into his black bag and grabbed a thick black coat from the hall tree. “Nice place you have here. Too bad you’re selling. It looks like someone loved this house very much.”
“Yes,” Rylee said as an unexpected bubble of tears gathered in her throat. Her Grandparents weren’t the only ones who had loved this house. Cranberry Bay was her place of warmth, comfort, and family. But all that had changed. Now, with her Grandparents gone, she just wanted to sell the house and start over in a city where she could be anonymous, the way it had always been with her family.
“We’ll see you in the morning, bright and early.” Jim pulled open the door, and a gust of wind brought leaves dancing into the hallway.
With her left foot, Rylee pushed the leaves back onto the porch and shut the door behind Jim. She leaned against the wood and rubbed her eyes. Where would she find a job in Cranberry Bay? From the looks of what she’d seen so far, there wasn’t much in town for someone with a background in design or even a small job working as a clerk in a bustling shop. She stepped away from the door and walked to the end of the living room. Opening a small door, Rylee walked into her grandmother’s sewing room. White built-in shelves lined the walls. Colorful fabric was stacked neatly on the shelves. An old Singer sewing machine covered with a paisley cloth sat on a wooden table. A set of pillowcases was tucked into a large basket on the floor. Rylee picked up one of the pillowcases and ran her hands over the pale pink fabric. For as long as she could remember, Grandma always had a booth at the annual Cranberry Bay Holiday Craft Fair. Held in a small church, the fair was filled with local residents who hoped to buy a handcrafted item. As a child, she spent summers helping Grandma create small cloth-ornament dolls or green-and-red tree-skirts with festive sparkles.
A white flyer tossed haphazardly in the side of the basket caught Rylee’s eye. She reached in and read about a spring fabric sale at the New Leaf Sewing Shop. Had Grandma gone to the sale, or did she only hope to get there? Rylee noted the address as Main Street. It wouldn’t hurt to stop in and see if they knew of anyone who needed design work. Maybe there was no one in Cranberry Bay who wanted a commercial designer, but perhaps one of the hotels at the beach needed a redo of a few of their rooms or a front entry. She didn’t need a huge job, just something to tide her over for the next two months and pay for repairs.
Rylee stepped out of the room to find Raisin waiting at the door, his tail banging against the wall. She glanced outside. The wind still blew at a good clip, but the sun had come out.
“Come on, boy,” Rylee said, picking up his leather leash. “Let’s go for a walk.”
Fifteen minutes later, Rylee stood in front of the New Leaf Sewing Shop. The lights shone brightly, but she couldn’t see anyone working at the front counter. Pulling the door open, Rylee turned to Raisin and lifted her hand to her lips as if the dog would understand her. “Shh…don’t bark.”
A burst of laughter came from the back of the store. Four women were gathered around a long table with an assortment of pattern pieces and colorful fabric.
“I’m sorry.” Rylee stepped backward and pulled on Raisin’s leash. “I didn’t realize this was a private class.” Raisin didn’t budge. He wagged his tail and let out a sharp bark, as if to say hello. Mortified, Rylee jerked his leash and pulled him toward the door.
A tall, slender woman stepped out from behind the table. She wore a long, colorful brown-and-tan striped knit skirt and a matching cream sweater. “Welcome to New Leaf. I’m Katie Coos, the owner. Excuse me for not greeting you when you came in. The apron club is a little excited about our project this week,” She smiled brightly at Rylee. “How can I help you?”
Katie Coos. The name was instantly familiar to Rylee. “You probably don’t remember me. But I used to visit my Grandma. We stopped by the scrapbook and paper shop at least once a week, sometimes more if I could convince Grandma.” She laughed to herself. “I had so many craft and business ideas. I think Grandma was always glad to see me leave at the end of the summer, so she could rest.”
“Rylee Harper!” Katie said, and smiled. “Mom wanted me to be just like you, and I didn’t want anything to do with the scrapbook shop. I only wanted to play softball and swim in the river.”
“And now you own this place.”
“Yes.” Katie’s face darkened, and her eyes dropped to the floor. “Mom got sick and couldn’t keep up. I took the store over, but,” she shrugged, “scrapbooking never was my thing. I’ve always loved fabrics and textiles, and once I figured out how to sew, well…” Katie looked up, her eyes shining bright. “Here we are.”
“And she has one of the best shops in the northern part of Oregon. People come from all over to
purchase her fabric and special order.” A dark-haired woman spoke as she cut into fabric, carefully following a pinned pattern.
Katie shook her head, but a smile tucked into her lips. “Friends. What would we do without them?”
Rylee’s chest ached as she thought of her best friend. She believed Ericka would have stood up for her no matter what, but that hadn’t happened.
“I’m looking for work.” Rylee pushed the sharply painful memories away. She cleared her throat. Her palms felt damp, and she resisted wiping them on her jeans. She gave Raisin’s leash a tight little tug. He looked up and leaned into her left leg, sensing she needed comfort. As a top designer in Vegas, she’d grown accustomed to not looking for work. Now, she felt awkward and uncomfortable, but she didn’t have any choice. Rylee squared her shoulders and faced Katie. “I wondered if you knew of anyone who might want a designer.”
“No. I’m sorry.” Katie turned to the women gathered around the table behind her. “Ivy? Gracie? Sasha? Do you know of anyone looking for a designer?”
“I wish,” Gracie said. “The River Rock Inn could use a new look in the rooms. But,” she shrugged, “it’s not exactly like business is booming in Cranberry Bay.”
“I would love help at the bakery, too.” Sasha’s piercing dark eyes darted to Rylee and then back to Katie. “But I can’t afford to hire anyone. Tiffany comes in on weekends, and I rope Tyler into helping me package up some of the mass orders for the sports team celebrations.” She smiled at Raisin. “But I do have one ten-year-old boy who would love to walk your dog if you need someone.”
“Thank you.” Rylee took a step backward and tugged on Raisin’s leash. “I’ll remember the offer.”
“I’m afraid I don’t need help either,” Ivy said from the left-hand corner of the table. “The antique shop isn’t exactly booming these days. Old items from attics and garages barely cover the bills. I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.” Rylee fiddled with Raisin’s leash. “I’m sorry to have interrupted your sewing club.” Don’t give up, she told herself. This was just the first stop. She didn’t expect to find a job immediately. In the morning, she’d drive over to some of the towns along the coast and look for design work in the beach hotels.
“Wait.” Katie said. “If you’d like to sew, we’d love for you to join the sewing club. We’re just beginning this month’s apron pattern.”
“I do sew,” Rylee said, thinking of the bolts of unused fabric sitting in her grandmother’s sewing room and the sewing machine. “But…” Her mind raced for an excuse. She wasn’t in Cranberry Bay to make connections. She planned to take care of business and leave.
Before she could find the words, the bell on the shop tinkled and a woman called out, “Hello. Katie? Sasha?”
“Lisa!” In a smattering of excited voices and hugs, the four women rushed forward and engulfed the tall, thin woman at the door. As the group’s voices rose in chatter, Rylee stared past the woman to Bryan standing behind her. He smiled broadly at her.
“I was hoping I might find you here,” Bryan said, stepping around Lisa and into the shop. “I thought I might ask a favor.”
“Yes?” Rylee tried to control her beating heart, which sped up every time she saw Bryan. The tone of his voice reminded her of how well he could charm her. She vowed not to let it happen this time.
“Well,” Bryan said, smiling his boyish grin at her. “I hope this isn’t too forward. But your grandfather had a lot of great car tools. My brother collects vintage cars. I’d like to stop by and take a look at your grandfather’s tool collection. That is, if you didn’t have something else you were doing with it.”
Rylee took a step backward as Bryan stepped closer to her. “I don’t have anything else I’m doing with it. I didn’t really know the collection was still in the garage.” She swallowed hard. She wanted so badly to lean against him and feel his arms around her. She wanted to press her cheek against his scratchy shirt and hear the beating of his heart. In his arms, she always felt safe and protected.
“I could stop by one day this week?”
“Yes.” A memory flashed across her mind of Bryan working with her grandfather in the garage, wearing his cut-off shorts and tank top. She flushed thinking of how she’d been so enamored with him in those teenage summer days. Who was she kidding? She was still affected by him. The only difference was she wasn’t a teenage girl, and she could control her emotions. She hoped.
“Rylee.” Katie spoke above the chatter of women. “You will join us, won’t you? The sewing circle meets on Wednesday nights. We’re sewing a pleated Thanksgiving apron.”
“Yes.” Rylee said, seeing a way out of spending more time with Bryan. “I would love to come Wednesday nights.” She turned to Bryan, “Why don’t you stop by on Wednesday evening; I’ll leave the garage door open for you.” She took a deep breath. Bryan did not have to rule her every thought and feeling. She was no longer a teenager falling all over her first love. She was a grown woman who knew how to handle life on life’s terms.
“Sure thing.” Bryan nodded to her. His face was void of any emotion except politeness. Rylee’s stomach turned with sadness. She didn’t want to fall in love with Bryan again, but she did want to know she had once mattered. Of course, he’d been married. He’d fallen in love with someone else. Although he was no longer married, she couldn’t expect him to remain in love with her forever. But she still wanted to see something in his eyes. Something to tell her she had once mattered to him the way he had to her.
Bryan turned away and sauntered over to the sewing circle women. “So, who is going to make me an apron?”
Giggles and laughter rose from the five women clustered together, and Rylee couldn’t help but notice how Sasha’s arm went around Bryan’s waist in a light hug as she gazed up at him. Not wanting to see any more, Rylee pulled on Raisin’s leash and slipped out the door. The cool rainy breeze blew across her cheeks, and she took a deep breath. She simply needed to put Bryan back in his place as someone she once knew and get on with her plan to get out of Cranberry Bay.
Chapter Six
Bryan frowned at the photos on his computer screen. He took a sip of cold coffee and swallowed. The late afternoon shadows crept into the small room, and he flicked on the seashell desk lamp. It’d been in the throwaway pile at Ivy’s antique shop. Ivy said the shop already had five seashell lamps, and they didn’t need one more. She handed it to him for free, and he set it up on his desk as his first piece of office furnishing. The large conch shell reminded him of a trip he’d taken with his brothers and Dad to Hawaii. It had been one of the only trips they’d taken where Bryan could remember his Dad enjoying himself.
Restlessly, Bryan shifted on the hard swivel chair. For the last hour, he’d tried to come up with catchy captions that would encourage buyers to request a showing. Former agent Rob Decker hadn’t believed in using technology to promote his business. He’d been in business long enough that he had a long list of satisfied clients who, in turn, gave him a steady stream of new clients. As a new agent, Bryan needed the online Multiple Listing Service to attract buyers. He only wished writing one-liners about a home’s marvelous backyard with a play-area for kids didn’t have him staring at the screen for over an hour.
A gust of cool wind blew inside the small office as the door opened, and a burly man entered the room. He wore a thick, heavy black down coat, jeans, and tall leather boots. Bryan pushed back his chair and squeezed between the large maple desk and the wall. He stepped forward and embraced the man in a large bear hug. “Dennis. How have you been?”
“Good.” Dennis returned the hug. “Got a minute?’
“Always.” Bryan gathered a stack of manila folders from a chair and placed the files on the floor. “Sorry about the mess. I’m trying to update some of Rob’s listings.”
“Allison and I heard you took over for Rob. How are things going?”
“Slow. But it’s the time of year. How is Mrs. Perkins?” Bryan asked, and smiled at
the thought of his first-grade teacher. Allison Perkins was a longtime resident of Cranberry Bay whom everyone still called Mrs. Perkins. She’d retired last year after a thirty-five-year teaching career. The town held a large celebration for her in the park. Her former students had returned from all over the country, and the day had included a marvelous afternoon of stories, tears, and joy.
“She’s getting used to retirement.” Dennis ran his hand over his lower jaw. “But, we’ve decided to sell the river fishing cottages. Our grandkids are in California, and we’d like to buy a condo closer to them.”
A memory of the old fishing cottages flashed across Bryan’s mind. On the night Rylee turned twenty-one, they had slipped into one of the cottages with a key he’d found tucked under a flower mat. The rustic cottages offered very little comfort, but that hadn’t mattered to them. He’d brought a thick blanket, and they’d placed it in front of the stone fireplace, talking all night and dreaming of a future together. He had proposed not soon after. Foolishly, he believed that night would lead to her spending the rest of her life with him. Their lives seemed wide-open and filled with promise.
“Do you think you can help us with the sale?” Dennis repeated.
Bryan flushed and cleared his throat, embarrassed to be caught lost in his daydreams and not paying attention to business. “I’d be happy to help you with the sale of the cottages. These are the six cottages alongside the west bank of the river, correct?”
Dennis shifted in his chair, leaned forward, and tapped his fingers on the desk. “Yes. Those are the ones. I’ve used a couple for storing fishing gear and other items from our house.” Dennis shook his head. “I’m afraid one of the cottages is loaded up with nothing but Christmas boxes. I’ll ask Allison to clear it out as soon as possible.”
Bryan chuckled. “Mom would love a spare cottage to store Christmas decorations. She must have saved every snowflake and Santa picture my brothers and sister and I ever made. Mom keeps saying one day she’ll have a house full of grandkids to enjoy the old things. So far, there’s only two, and it doesn’t look like any more are on the way.” He ran his finger over the edge of a manila folder on his desk. His chest ached with the unfilled longing for children, his children, running around his home.
Sweetheart Cottage (Cranberry Bay #1) Page 5