“Excuse me, boys.” Bryan slipped his computer and notes into his bag and pushed his unfinished beer toward Josh. “You’ll have to finish this for me.”
“Where are you going?” Cole asked. “We just got here.”
“I’ve got a job to offer someone,” Bryan said. “And,” he winked at Mitch. “a bet to win.”
Chapter Seven
Rylee wiped her gloved hand over the park bench and brushed away a handful of wet pine needles. She sank down as Raisin plopped by her feet. He tucked his tail around him and leaned his head on her scuffed rain boot. She’d picked up the boots along with a couple of heavy flannel shirts, a thick down jacket, and a pair of jeans at the Goodwill outlet just north of Cranberry Bay. Rylee shivered and wrapped her coat tighter around her.
She stared into the rushing river running below the park and tried to push away the headache forming between her eyes. In the last week, she’d been everywhere looking for work. She’d gone to every real estate agent in all the surrounding beach towns. She stopped in at all the hotels in the area. She’d even asked at the Cranberry Bay Historic Train Depot if they might need a receptionist or ticket seller. But, the story was always the same. People would hire if they had more business. The real estate agents apologized, saying that second homes just weren’t selling right now. The beach town hotel owners apologized and explained they were recovering from a couple seasons of low occupancy due to a series of unfortunate summer storms and a faltering economy. They didn’t have money to pour into remodels of rooms and entryways. Her headache pulsed, and she gripped the edges of the park bench. Yesterday, she had visited the local bank and asked to open a home equity line of credit. But without a regular steady means of income, the bank declined her request.
Rylee tightened her grip on the cold wooden slates. She wouldn’t give up. She couldn’t give up. There had to be something she could do.
Rylee looked toward the row of two-story brick buildings that lined the riverfront walkway below the park’s hillside. She remembered that there had been a candy store when she was a child, and she had selected different types of fudge from the glass cabinets. Chocolate almond had been her favorite. She always tucked a small package into her suitcase to eat on the plane ride back to Vegas. Now, darkened windows and storefront signs missing letters marred the buildings. A light flickered on in a small office at the end of the building with a real estate agent sign in the front.
Resolved, Rylee threw back her shoulders. If she couldn’t get a job and was unable to secure a home equity line of credit, it was time to face selling her grandmother’s home. The cost of the repairs could be taken out of the sale, or a buyer could be found for an “as-is” sale. She had to let go of her childhood dreams that her grandmother’s home was worth a lot of money. She doubted any real estate agent in Portland was going to be interested in her grandmother’s home. Rylee squared her shoulders and clenched her teeth. She’d have to use Bryan’s real estate services.
Rylee headed down a narrow pathway leading out of the park and to the riverfront walkway. Raisin trotted beside her, his toenails clicking on the cement pavement and his tags jingling. A seagull circled above her and landed on the marina’s ramshackle office building.
Rylee reached the last brick building and pushed open the small door. A steep and narrow staircase loomed in front of her. She grasped the banister and stepped up the stairs to a small door on the second floor. A “For Sale” sign rested against a wall. In large red lettering, it read “Cranberry Bay Real Estate. Bryan Shuster.” Raisin whined beside her and tried to turn around in the dark space.
“It’s okay, bud.” Rylee petted the dog and reassured both the dog and herself that things were going to be okay. “We’re just going to take care of some business.” She wanted nothing more than to bolt.
Suddenly, the door jerked open and Bryan stood in the doorframe. The light behind him cast a glow around his muscular frame, and his blue jeans hugged his muscular legs. A green sweater stretched across his broad chest, and the heat surged in Rylee’s face.
“Can I help you?”
“I’d like to list my grandmother’s home.” Rylee gripped Raisin’s leash and willed herself not to run. Her heart pounded in her chest. It’s just the sale of a house, she told herself, knowing full well that the sale of the house was not causing her surging emotions. It was the man standing in front of her.
“Not a problem.” Bryan leaned against the doorframe. “We can get that done.” He smiled at her, sending her heart crashing to her ribs. “I wanted to talk to you anyway.”
Rylee could do nothing but nod, too afraid to speak and reveal her emotions.
“Are you interested in a job?”
Rylee swallowed hard, forcing herself to concentrate. “I would love a job. Who do I contact?”
“Me.” Bryan’s eyes glowed. “Is that okay?”
“You?” Rylee stared beyond Bryan into the small office. He couldn’t expect her to work with him, could he? She’d never be able to be so close to him in his office and maintain an emotional and physical distance.
“I’ve just landed a listing. The owner would like it staged to sell. Is this something you could do?”
“Of course.” Rylee straightened and thought she saw emotion cross Bryan’s face. But before she could be sure she’d seen anything, it was gone. “I stage property. I did an entire condo building in Vegas. It was beautiful. My business partner and I worked for weeks on it. We used beautiful draperies and high-end furniture.” She paused and laughed. “I wanted to buy one by the time we finished.”
She flushed. Why had she gushed on to Bryan? He wasn’t asking her for a job history. He was giving her a job without any references or previous work experience. Rylee slipped her left hand into her pocket and stepped back.
Bryan cleared his throat and shifted. “I was just going to look at the property now. You could come along?”
“Where is it?” Rylee nodded to Raisin. “I can drop him off at home on the way.”
“We can walk. It’s on the other side of the park, near the west bank of the river.”
“A riverfront property?” Rylee frowned. “Is it one of the businesses near the marina?”
“Not exactly.” Bryan cleared his throat. “It’s the river cottages.”
Rylee swallowed hard as heat filled her face. “The river cottages?” Grateful for the poorly lit stairwell, she lowered her eyes to the dirty doormat. On her twenty-first birthday, Bryan had brought her to the cottage. He’d set a small kitchen table with real china place settings borrowed from his mother. He’d cooked a wonderful meal of lasagna and thick French bread and made her a chocolate cake. Afterward, he proposed to her. That night, she believed she could marry him. She believed she could move to Cranberry Bay. She believed she’d find a way to keep her father out of harm’s way in Vegas while she lived in Cranberry Bay. She believed it was possible to have her life in Cranberry Bay without telling the secret of his gambling addiction. She believed her world would come together perfectly. But everything changed the next day with one phone call from the Vegas police. Quietly, she packed her bags, knowing she’d never be able to marry Bryan and live in Cranberry Bay without betraying her long-held family secret. She’d never be able to leave her father without someone to take care of him.
Bryan stared into her eyes and sent her heart racing. “Will the location be a problem?”
“No.” Rylee shook her head firmly. This was a business deal. She needed the job, and there wasn’t time for sentimentality over the past. “It’s not a problem for me. Is it a problem for you?”
Bryan’s ears turned slightly pink, but he shook his head. “Not a problem for me. We should be able to attract a good buyer once the cottages are staged.”
Rylee nodded. It didn’t matter how she once felt about Bryan. That was in the past. Today all that mattered for both of them was getting the job done.
“Let me get my jacket.” Bryan stepped into the room and grabbed his co
at off a tall chair sitting in front of a desk. “We’ll walk over to the cottages.”
Rylee turned and headed down the narrow staircase. It was just business, she reminded herself. The job would give her the necessary means to secure the home equity line of credit, finish the work on her grandmother’s house, and leave.
Outside, Rylee took a deep breath of the crisp night air. Cranberry Bay always smelled like a Christmas tree farm with the towering evergreen trees that surrounded it. She led Raisin to a small patch of grass on the side of the building. As soon as the bank opened tomorrow, she’d secure the loan. It was a small town, and Bryan would verify her employment. She’d still list the home with Bryan, but at least it wouldn’t have to be sold “as-is.” Rylee had seen what happened to the older homes in Vegas that were listed “as-is.” Many of them were torn down to make room for apartment buildings. She didn’t know about the zoning laws in Cranberry Bay, but she hated to think of someone tearing down her grandmother’s beloved home.
“Ready?” Bryan stepped up beside her
“Yes.” Rylee and Raisin easily stepped into pace beside Bryan.
The rain had stopped, and some of the clouds gave way to a blue sky with puffy white clouds. Walking with Bryan felt so familiar and comfortable that Rylee soon found herself telling him about some of the homes she had worked on over the years. She recounted stories of owners’ demands and requests for furnishings which took her everywhere from estate sales to expensive home stores. The two of them were laughing by the time they reached the river rock path leading to the six cottages.
Rylee stopped. Time hadn’t changed the brown-shingled cottages, which sat in a circle around a grassy area that held a couple of Adirondack chairs and a fire pit. The cottages all looked alike, with large picture windows, chimneys and wooden front doors. A small metal sign hung on the front of the first cottage. Rylee peered closer and could barely make out the letters: “Fishing.”
Rylee slipped her hand into her pocket. She pulled out her cell phone and tapped notes into the small screen. “The first thing we’ll want to do is buy flowers for a large pot at each door. Probably at this time of year there is nothing left, but I’ll see if I can find something marked with a discount. There’ll need to be curtains on the windows, and we’ll want to leave them open and pulled back with a nice tie.” She eyed the gravel walkway. “The path could use new gravel, but we won’t worry about that for now. The important thing will be making each cottage have curb appeal.”
“I can clear out the weeds.” Bryan leaned over and yanked out a tall scraggly weed lodged in the gravel. “It should only take me a couple hours or so.”
“I’ll see what I can do about making up some new signs for each cottage. It shouldn’t be hard to find some old boards and paint names on them to hang as signs for each cottage.” Rylee continued to type fast notes into her phone.
Bryan leaned over and flipped up a doormat. He pulled out a small key. “I will have the locks rekeyed. Why don’t you take this one for now? The same key fits every cottage.”
Rylee took the key from Bryan, and his fingers touched hers. For a minute, neither of them moved. His eyes stared into hers, and she couldn’t find her voice. She felt twenty-one again, in love with the boy she’d had a crush on since she was fifteen.
Bryan reached over, and, with his thumb, caressed the side of her face. “Rylee,” he said. The longing in his eyes mirrored hers. Her chest ached with the unfilled promise of everything they’d left behind.
Rylee grabbed the key from Bryan and leaned down to pick up her cell phone. Her heart pounded as she inserted the key into the lock. She could not allow herself to remember the past. Not now. Not ever. Her hands shook as she inserted the key into the lock. She twisted the doorknob, but the door didn’t open.
“Something is stuck,” Rylee muttered. She leaned her shoulder against the door and pushed.
“Here.” Bryan stepped up beside her. “Let me.” His body brushed against hers, and she inhaled his spicy aftershave, sending her emotions back into overdrive.
Bryan grunted and pressed against the door as it swung open into a dark room. “I’ll get these doors fixed as soon as possible.”
Rylee followed Bryan into the cold room and shivered. A couple of used logs sat in the fireplace. The room was empty except for three folding chairs and a card table. Rylee stepped into the small kitchen area. A refrigerator, tucked into a red Formica countertop, clunked as if on its final legs. The small metal sink smelled of fish, and Rylee scrunched her nose.
“I’m sorry. “Bryan ran his finger along the dusty front window ledge “I haven’t been inside any of these for years. I didn’t realize the condition they’d be in. I’ll tell Dennis we can’t stage them, and I’ll just try to sell them as-is.”
“No. Wait. I think we can make this work.” Rylee turned in a circle and studied the one-room cottage. “They’re vintage cottages, and I’ll use that as the theme.” She pointed to the fireplace. “If it doesn’t work, I’ll place a set of candles in the middle. We can cover the fish scent with some good bleach. I’ll bake some cookies to serve at an open house.”
“Are you sure?” Bryan ran his hand through his hair. “This looks like a lot of work. And there are five others. I’m assuming they’re all in the same state.”
“I can do it.” Rylee nodded. “Why don’t we make a list of what needs to be done? There might be some things I can hire out. Is there a budget for the project?”
Bryan shifted his weight back and forth. “No.” He lowered his voice. “I need you to keep something to yourself.”
Rylee nodded. “Of course. Client confidentiality is important.”
“Mrs. Perkins is ill. Dennis mentioned needing the money, so they could move to be closer to their grandchildren in California. I’m guessing it is also to cover her medical expenses.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Rylee said, softening toward Bryan. “I remember how much you cared about her.”
“Yes.” Bryan’s voice cracked. “I do. The whole town loves her. I’m sure we could do a fund-raiser to help with her costs, but I doubt she’d accept it.”
“The staging won’t be a problem,” Rylee said firmly. “I’ll poke around in the antique shop and see if I can scout out a few thrift stores or garage sales. If needed, I’ll head into Portland for the day and look around. We can get this done.”
“Thank you,” Bryan said. His blue eyes swam with emotion.
“Not a problem,” Rylee said, her voice brisk as she resisted the urge to reach out and take Bryan’s hand. “I’ve dealt with worse situations.” She checked the time on her phone. “In fact, why don’t I head over to Ivy’s shop now? We’ll put a colorful tag on anything that comes from her store, so prospective buyers know where to purchase the item.”
“That’s a great idea,” Bryan said. “I’m going to stick my head into the other cottages, and I’ll let you know how bad they look.”
The boyish grin she loved broke across his face, and her heart cascaded in small flutters. For a minute, she couldn’t move and felt the old swirl of joyful emotion in her stomach.
Raisin’s sharp bark jerked her out of her thoughts. The dog had placed his paws on the window and pressed his nose against the glass. “Down.” Rylee called Raisin to her side. She clipped his leash to his collar and stepped out the door. Her pulse raced. She needed to put distance between herself and Bryan. Rylee pulled her hood over her head and headed for Main Street.
By the time she had walked the three blocks, her pulse had returned to normal. The cool breeze whipped around the sides of the buildings and chilled her heated body.
In the doorway of the antique shop, Ivy struggled, trying to fit a large nightstand through the door. “Let me get that.” Rylee stepped up to the glass door with “Antiques” etched in gold lettering on it.
“Thanks,” Ivy said, as she and Rylee set the nightstand down in front of a large front counter. Light-green paint was chipped in the corners, and
a bottom drawer missed a knob. Otherwise, everything looked in good condition. The piece would be perfect for a small table beside a thick couch in one of the cottages.
“What can I help you with?” Ivy wiped her hands on her jeans.
“I’d like that nightstand,” Rylee said, and briefly explained her plan to stage the river cottages.
After she finished, Ivy waved her hand toward the vast store. “Feel free to look around for whatever you need. I’ll be happy to donate some of this stuff. People use the store as a dumping ground for their old junk.”
“Why don’t you tell them the store doesn’t accept the items?” Rylee asked, puzzled at Ivy’s policy.
Ivy shrugged. “I’m too much of a softy to say no. I know what it’s like to have an attic full of treasures you don’t know what to do with.” She lowered her voice as a shadow crossed her face. “The store helps people out, even if no one will ever buy the items. They have a place to keep those things that once were special.”
“And if Cranberry Bay becomes the next big thing, people might want these things.” Rylee said. She smiled at Ivy. She understood why Ivy chose to keep people’s treasures, whether or not they could sell. She knew what it was like to have a houseful of things that had once been filled with meaning and purpose and had become only part of what they used to be.
“That would be great,” Ivy said. “But until we get a reason for people to stay longer than an hour or two in Cranberry Bay, none of this stuff is going anywhere. I’m happy to let you take what you need.”
Raisin nosed toward a tall stack of old records. Ivy held out her hand. “I’ll keep Raisin up here. I had a dog for fifteen years. She saw me through everything. She passed away a few months ago, and I haven’t had the heart to get another one.” Ivy leaned down and rubbed Raisin’s ears. “But I can borrow you, right buddy?”
Sweetheart Cottage (Cranberry Bay #1) Page 7