by Mia Ross
With that, he ended the service, and people streamed out to get to work. Bree hung back, and when Cooper noticed, he turned to her with a confused look.
“Aren’t you coming?” he asked.
Actually, since the town meeting she’d been trying to avoid him without seeming like she was avoiding him. As observant as he was, he’d notice something was bugging her, and he’d want to know what it was. Beyond that she felt awful for keeping Derek’s apparent betrayal from Cooper. She’d always been up front with him, even when it made her cringe. Staying quiet about such a huge secret didn’t feel right to her, but she didn’t want to start trouble unless she was 100 percent certain of her facts.
“I don’t want to be in the way while you’re setting up.” Evading his gaze, she fiddled with the settings on her camera. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
Apparently that wasn’t good enough for him, and he stayed until the last of the group had left the sanctuary. Coming closer, he stopped just short of where Bree stood and waited. When she refused to lift her eyes, he gently tipped her chin up with his finger. “Are you okay?”
The intimate gesture was so unexpected, she felt her jaw drop open in surprise. “You’re worried about me?”
“You look like you haven’t slept in days. What’s going on?”
She simply couldn’t lie to this man. Scrambling for words, she came up with something that was more or less the truth. “I’m having trouble with some details for my development article, that’s all.”
His frown eased a little, but he asked, “Anything I can help with?”
Typical Cooper, she thought with a smile. Always riding in to save the day. “Not really, but thanks for the offer.”
“Anytime.”
Grinning now, he stepped back to let her leave the church ahead of him. Even while she walked out, she felt his strong, protective presence behind her. She’d dated guys who were more guards than boyfriends, to the point of smothering her. She’d also known some who couldn’t have cared less what she did. Or how well she’d been sleeping.
Then there was Cooper. Bree didn’t doubt that when he finally found a woman to share the rest of his life with, he’d devise a way to shield her from the big bad world, without strangling her in the process. Bree had to admit, she was jealous of the future Mrs. Landry, and the woman didn’t even exist yet.
Shaking herself free of her pointless brooding, Bree took up residence on a vacant picnic table to watch Red Granger organize the volunteers. Consulting a paint-spattered clipboard, he found a job for everyone, from his ninety-year-old mother to toddlers who couldn’t do much besides fetch lemonade. Several guys lugged picnic tables farther out of the painting zone, and members of the Ladies’ Aid spread a lavish picnic over them. Pastor Allen got two enormous grills started, announcing that he’d cook the meat at noon. Every member of the congregation was involved in some way, and she found that endearing for some reason.
She was snapping photos when Mavis stepped in front of her viewfinder. “What’re you doing?”
“Documenting things for tomorrow’s installment.”
Scowling, the gruff woman pointed to an empty spot on one wall. “I need another set of hands in my section.”
“Oh, Mavis.” Bree laughed. “I’m more the call-the-landlord kind of girl. I’ve never painted in my life.”
Mavis folded her arms in stark disapproval. “You ever scrape a label off your windshield?”
“Sure.”
In reply Mavis handed her a wide scraper and went back the way she’d come. Well and truly shanghaied, Bree stowed her camera and trailed after her foreman. Georgia and Carolina, the bakery owners, were kind enough to show her the basic motion. After a few tries Bree managed to remove only the loose paint and not a chunk of the clapboards.
Several others were doing the same thing, and they all chatted pleasantly while they worked. Gossip flew on the warm breeze, and she snagged a few tidbits she’d never print but were entertaining, all the same.
During a lemonade break, she asked, “How often do you guys do this?”
“Every year,” the Southern sisters replied in tandem. They did that constantly, and at first Bree had considered it more than a little odd. She was used to it now, so she didn’t think anything of it.
“Salt air’s tough on the paint,” Mavis added. “If we don’t keep up with the maintenance, this place’ll rot where it stands.”
“You could put on vinyl siding,” Bree suggested sensibly. “That way the wood would be protected but you wouldn’t ever have to paint again.”
“Not as long as I’m on the church council,” Mavis retorted. “This chapel’s been here a long time, and it’s fine just the way it is.”
“Besides,” Carolina said more gently, “we enjoy our working picnics. It brings us all together, doing something for our church. I can’t think of a better way to spend a Sunday.”
“Well said,” her sister agreed, raising her lemonade for a toast. “To the Captains’ Chapel. May it always be a fitting home for God’s children.”
They all chimed in with an Amen, and Bree was stunned to hear her own voice among them. Even more stunning was the fact that she hadn’t merely parroted their response. She meant it with all her heart.
In that moment the knotted thoughts that had kept her awake all night fell loose, and she knew what she had to do. It wouldn’t be easy, but she had to find a way. These were good people, and they deserved better than what Derek had in mind for them.
Looking into the flawless blue sky, she sent up a silent prayer for strength. Normally she took great pride in doing things on her own, but this time she’d need all the help she could get.
* * *
By the time Bree finished her spy’s tale, Mavis was glowering over the rim of her teacup. “Traitor.”
“Hey, it’s not my fault! I’m just the messenger.”
Mavis looked confused, then comprehension softened her stern expression. Reaching over, she patted Bree’s hand in a comforting gesture that seemed strange coming from the brusque keeper’s widow. “Not you, honey. I was talking about that no-good traitor Derek.”
That was a relief. The vengeful gleam in her hostess’s eyes was making her nervous, so she quickly got back on track. “I wasn’t supposed to be there, and Cooper will probably be furious with me for eavesdropping. But this is important, and I have to tell him. I just don’t know how.”
“You’re right, on all counts.” Mavis sighed, the deep lines on her face bracketing her disappointment. “Those two boys have been thick as thieves since they were babies. I never thought much of that Timms whelp, but I can’t believe he’d sell out his own town like this.”
“Maybe he needs the money,” Bree suggested. “Did he take out loans for Yale?”
“And then some. But he was bent on following Cooper, so he did. Never did half as well, though,” she added proudly, as if it was her own son’s accomplishment.
“Then there’s his fancy car, and starting up his own firm. It could be he’s strapped for cash.”
“So’m I,” Mavis retorted with venom. “You don’t see me makin’ shady deals with no-good mansion builders set on destroying this place.”
“I wasn’t making excuses for him, just thinking out loud. What he’s trying to do is wrong, and someone has to stop him. The problem is, I’m the only one who knows what he’s up to, and I didn’t exactly walk up and ask him about it openly.”
“This ain’t a court of law. You heard what you heard, and it’s up to you to tell Cooper.”
Bree did some scowling of her own. “He won’t believe me. At least not at first.”
“Then you have to convince him. When he sees what’s going on behind his back, I know he’ll do the right thing.”
“Which is what?”
“Run
for mayor,” she replied immediately. “Stop this nonsense before it gets outta hand.”
“There’s no way to get him on the ballot now. He would’ve had to declare his candidacy months ago.”
Her logic didn’t faze Mavis in the least. “We’ve written in folks before. We’ll do it again.”
“But he doesn’t want to be mayor,” Bree pointed out. “He never did.”
“I know that, but we needed him, and he agreed to do it.” Another proud smile. “Cooper Landry’s the kind of man who always steps up and does what’s right. He won’t let us down.”
During her time in Holiday Harbor, Bree had watched him do just that, time after time. Whether it was saving a dog that needed a home or presiding fairly over an issue that tore him apart inside, he did what was best. But before she went to him with something this explosive, she needed more than a few words overheard from a dark hallway.
She needed proof. She just had to figure out how to get it.
* * *
“No.”
In her shop Monday morning, Julia emphatically shook her head, her teardrop sapphire earrings jangling their own protest. Turning partially away, she put a little more energy into ripping open a box of office supplies than was strictly necessary. Pausing midtear, she gazed at Bree with a stricken expression. “We’ve spent a lot of time together, and I thought we were friends. How could you ask me to do something like this?”
“Because we’re friends.” Hoping to show some moral support, Bree reached across the counter and patted her arm. “I know I can trust you not to say anything about this to anyone. Derek’s aware that I’m a reporter, and he won’t talk to me candidly. You can steer the conversation around to money, ask about investments in the area, something like that. He might offer up information he shouldn’t, just to impress you. It’s worth a shot.”
“This is a very small town, and while I’m no crusader, I’ve never hidden my views from anyone. He probably knows I’m against the development.”
That hadn’t occurred to Bree, but she sensed Julia was teetering on the verge of agreeing to help. This was important, and she wasn’t about to let anything derail her plan. “You can tell him you’re interested in more details about the project. That wouldn’t be lying, and it will give him a chance to brag a little.”
That got her a flicker of a smile. “Appeal to his male ego, you mean.”
“Exactly. If I’m wrong about his involvement, only you and I will know about it, and there’s no harm done.”
“What if you’re right?” Julia asked, her brow puckering with concern. “Derek’s more or less the mayor already. No one’s running against him.”
Bree relayed Mavis’s prediction, and Julia’s frown deepened. “Cooper doesn’t want the job. He never did.”
“But if Derek really is cozied up with this developer, Cooper would run, to make sure the town has a choice.”
“I suppose.” Julia picked at the shipping label, obviously trying to buy herself some time.
Patience wasn’t Bree’s strong point, but she quietly waited for Julia to make up her mind. She knew she was asking a lot of her new friend, but it was the only way to force Derek to reveal his true intentions before the unsuspecting residents of Holiday Harbor handed over control of their town’s future to him.
How she’d explain it to Cooper was another problem entirely. She’d think about that later.
“If I agree to this, it has to be legal,” Julia said in a firm voice. “I won’t record him without his knowledge, or search his office or anything like that.”
Bree nodded in understanding. “I’d never dream of asking you to. I’m not trying to put him in jail, just get some confirmation of the half conversation I heard the other night. What he’s doing isn’t a crime, but it’s still wrong, and I can’t stand by and let him get away with it.”
“The election is only a month away, so we need to do this soon, I’d think.”
“The sooner, the better,” Bree confirmed. “Cooper needs time to let everyone know he’s running.”
“Do you think he’ll tell them why?”
“I’m not sure.” After the shock wore off, it wouldn’t surprise her if he called out Derek for lying to the town—and to him. Like her, Cooper valued loyalty above everything else. Considering the stakes, trashing Derek would be totally understandable.
“All right, I’ll do it.” Sounding far from confident, Julia fixed worried eyes on Bree. “I just pray you know what you’re doing.”
“So do I.”
“You do what?”
She’d been so engrossed in her conversation with Julia, Bree hadn’t noticed the door opening. At the sound of Cooper’s voice, Bree plastered on a smile and winked at Julia before turning to face him. “Hope the bakery gets a cappuccino machine soon. I really miss my foamy morning coffee.”
He didn’t question her response. She felt a twinge of guilt about deceiving him, but she knew it was the best course for now.
Coming farther into the shop, he glanced around with an approving smile. “This is really starting to come together, Julia. When do you plan to open?”
“In the fall sometime, so people will know where Toyland is when it’s time to do their Christmas shopping.”
Cool and composed, she sounded completely normal. Bree knew Julia didn’t feel any better about their arrangement than she did, and she smiled her appreciation.
“Sounds good,” Cooper said. “Well, I better get to the office.”
“I’ll come with you.” Bree tucked her pad back into her messenger bag. “I was just getting some input from Julia about business here in Holiday Harbor, and Nick’s probably wondering where this week’s installment is. Thanks again,” she said to Julia, waving as they headed outside.
That was close, she mused as she followed Cooper next door. If she was going to keep her lead quiet until it was time to break this story open, she’d have to be more careful. Her mind was spinning so quickly, she barely registered anything beyond the fact that he had Sammy with him again today.
“He didn’t like being left alone yesterday?” she asked as they entered the lobby.
“When I got home, he acted like I’d been gone a week. I felt really bad.”
“You’re such a softie.”
He didn’t say anything more. When they reached his office, he motioned her inside and closed the door behind them. Feeling like a kid sent to the principal’s office—and justly so—Bree fought the urge to start fidgeting. “Is something wrong?”
“That depends.” Leaning back against his desk, he folded his arms and leveled a cool lawyer’s stare at her. “What are you up to?”
“Local color for my articles.” To prove it, she pulled out her notes and offered them to him. Anticipating just such an occasion, she hadn’t written any of her suspicions down. “You can check if you want.”
He didn’t move a muscle, but his eyes still bored into her, unrelenting. She couldn’t imagine how his former clients could successfully lie to him. They must have had ice water in their veins.
After what felt like forever, Cooper handed her notes back unread. “I’ll trust you on this one,” he said gravely. “Don’t make me regret it.”
Fortunately the phone rang and he turned away to answer it. Otherwise she would have had to respond somehow, and for the first time she could recall, she couldn’t think of a single thing to say.
* * *
If there was one thing he’d learned near the end of his time with Felicia, it was how to recognize when a woman was keeping something from him. Now it was Bree, and Cooper was at a loss for how to handle the situation. He was glad she and Julia had gotten to be friends, for both their sakes. His mother had taught him long ago that certain subjects were “girls only,” and he liked knowing these two had someone to share those
things with.
He and Bree had grown considerably closer, and she’d opened up several times about the mistakes in her past and her dreams for the future. But there was still an unmistakable line separating them. The kind of line a man crossed at his peril.
While he considered several scenarios, his eyes drifted to the sofa between the windows that looked out on to the square.
What he saw there made him smile. With Sammy stretched out like a furry backrest behind her, Bree seemed perfectly content there, typing away on her latest story.
“Staring, counselor?” she asked without looking up.
“Admiring,” he admitted with a chuckle. “You two look cozy over there.”
“We are.”
Sammy thumped his tail in agreement, and Cooper laughed. “I was also thinking.”
“About?”
“I need the surveyor’s map for the property one of my clients wants to sell.”
“Okay.”
“Not really. I asked Mrs. Andrews where it is, and she has no clue. That means it’s floating around somewhere in Granddad’s bizarre filing system.” Pushing his chair away from his desk, he went to open the door connecting their offices. “If I’m not back in half an hour, send Sammy in.”
“You’re in and out of that room constantly. Why don’t you just move your stuff in there and call it done?”
Feeling himself stiffen defensively, Cooper made a conscious effort to relax. Her suggestion made complete sense, and his mind recognized that. It was his heart that protested. “That’s Granddad’s office.”
Her expression softened, and very gently she said, “It was your grandfather’s office. Now it’s an unused room next to yours storing things you need to have on hand. What would he think of that?”
Cooper wasn’t crazy about how this conversation was going, but he recognized she was only trying to be helpful. “He’d think I was a nut, wearing out a perfectly good carpet.”