Pelican Point

by Irene Hannon

  “No real news. Just a call from a friend.”

  “Anyone we know?” Her mom’s casual tone was at odds with her keen, discerning eyes.

  “No. He’s only been in town a short while.”

  “Ah. A man friend.”

  True to form, her mother had jumped all over the fact she had a new friend of the opposite gender.

  “He’s passing through, Mom. In three or four weeks, he’ll be gone.” And she wasn’t ready to talk about him to her parents. “You know, Dad . . . I think I’ll take you up on the offer of the car. If Mom gets released sooner than anticipated, give me a call and I’ll come back to pick you up. Otherwise, I’ll try to sleep for a few hours.”

  “Sure thing, sweetie.” He fished the keys out again and passed them over.

  She gave him a hug and bent over to kiss her mom. “Take it easy till they let you go.”

  “I don’t have much choice. And you get some rest. Tonight, when we’re all home and life is more back to normal, you can tell me about this friend of yours—and give us an update on your save-the-lighthouse campaign.”

  “Let’s play the rest of the day by ear.”

  But as she left the room, she bumped a discussion about Ben to the bottom of her agenda.

  Because her mom would pick up too much—and she’d be astonished to learn that the friend her daughter had referenced was none other than the owner of the threatened lighthouse.

  It kind of surprised—and tickled—her too.

  And while she was grateful her whirlwind trip to Florida had been for naught, and wonderful as it was to see her parents, she was already counting the hours until she could get back on a plane and return to the town she loved—and the ex-army doctor who was fast making inroads on her heart.

  19

  So far, this had been a very good day.

  Smiling, Ben cranked down the window in Skip’s truck, rested his elbow on the edge, and inhaled the tangy salt air as he cruised down Highway 101 from Coos Bay under the cloudless blue Friday sky.

  If he wanted to change his resident status in Hope Harbor from temporary to permanent, finding satisfying work appeared to be a cinch.

  His early-morning meeting with the owner of the urgent care center had been encouraging. The man had been beyond enthusiastic about the possibility of an army surgeon taking over as director until a long-term replacement could be found. Details would have to be worked out, but the door was open.

  And the conversation he’d just had with Jonathan Allen had also been upbeat. The surgeon had been more than receptive to his query about the possibility of joining the growing orthopedic practice in Coos Bay. He’d also introduced him to his partner and promised the two of them would discuss the idea over the weekend.

  The sole question mark was Marci.

  And she was the lynchpin in his decision.

  Tapping a finger against the wheel, Ben passed a slower-moving car. The electricity sparking between the two of them was strong now, but it could fizzle. One, or both, of them might lose interest.

  If that happened, would he want to spend the rest of his life in Hope Harbor, knowing their paths were bound to cross?

  That could be awkward.

  Yet the town did have much to recommend it, as Father Murphy had reminded him the other day. Skip had loved it for all the reasons the priest had mentioned.

  Plus, Ben had his own fond memories of the place that had become a refuge during his turbulent younger years after his world flipped upside down.

  So what should he do?

  Despite his increasingly urgent prayers for guidance, the answer continued to elude him.

  All he knew was that he needed to decide soon. If he was going to change direction, it was only fair to let the practice in Ohio know ASAP.

  He rounded a bend in the road on the final approach to Hope Harbor, and Pelican Point light peeked at him through the spruce and fir trees, an imposing presence on the craggy headland.

  Hard to believe how much his life had changed because of that unexpected legacy. The weather-beaten structure had disrupted his plans, launched him on an unexpected journey, and opened doors to new possibilities.

  And who would ever have guessed that a lighthouse would link so many lives?

  Strange how Skip hadn’t had any takers when he’d put it on the market five months ago, but an offer had landed on the table within days of his demise.

  An offer that had rallied the town to save the light, started a romance, and perhaps helped save a marriage.

  A grin tugged at his mouth as he passed the Welcome to Hope Harbor sign. His grandfather would have had a field day with that scenario. Rather than view the events as random, he would have assumed there was a purpose behind them.

  Ben wasn’t as inclined as Skip to see the hand of the Almighty in everything—but in this case, his grandfather might be right. Everything had fallen into place too neatly to be explained by chance.

  Swinging onto Dockside Drive, Ben tooled toward home, one hand on the wheel as he scanned the wharf. Charley’s was open for business . . . and for a second he was tempted to indulge in some tacos for lunch.

  But the realtor was stopping by again in fifteen minutes. Better keep rolling.

  Charley stepped out of the back of his taco truck as he passed, and Ben waved at him through the window.

  The man watched him for a moment, then lifted his hand in reply—but there was no trademark flash of gleaming teeth today. Charley seemed almost . . . somber.

  A tiny niggle of unease snaked through Ben.

  During all their interactions through the years, the local artist had always radiated optimism, his sunny outlook and cheerful nature a balm for troubled souls.

  In fact, without him and Skip, Ben wasn’t certain he’d have survived his tenth summer. Between the two of them, they’d managed to brighten his world—and fill it with hope.

  But he wasn’t getting positive vibes from the man now.

  Could Charley be having a bad day for once in his life?

  He continued down the street, watching the man in his rearview mirror.

  Charley stayed where he was, gaze fixed on the truck, uncharacteristically solemn.

  Too bad he couldn’t stop and talk to the resident sage. Find out what was going on.

  With the realtor on her way, however, he’d be late if he dallied.

  Maybe once she left, though, he’d wander back down for a chat with the man. After all the times Charley had cheered him up, the least he could do was try to return the favor.

  Depressing the gas pedal, Ben picked up speed and completed the short drive to Skip’s street in less than five minutes. An unfamiliar car was parked a few doors down from the house, and he gave it a quick once-over as he turned into the driveway. Not the one Rachel’s parents had rented. And no one was inside, so it wasn’t the realtor waiting for him to get home.

  Someone on the block other than his neighbors must have company too.

  He pulled to the end of the driveway and swung out of the cab, taking a quick inventory of the house as he approached the back door. The lawn needed mowing . . . but he could do that after the realtor left. A pile of yard waste in the corner was ready to be bagged and hauled away. The fence could use a few repairs too.

  Pushing through into the kitchen, he headed for his never-ending to-do list on the counter and . . .

  The doorbell rang, and he frowned as he retrieved a pen to jot down the new additions. Much as he admired punctuality, people who came early were as annoying as those who showed up late.

  The bell rang again.

  Muttering to himself, he tossed the pen on the counter, strode toward the front of the house, and summoned up a smile for the realtor as he pulled the door open and—

  The air whooshed out of his lungs, and he reared back as if someone had head-butted him.

  “Hi, Ben.” Nicole tossed her mane of blonde hair in an all-too-familiar gesture that curdled his stomach. “I bet you’re surprised to see
me.”

  Lips frozen—along with his insides—he gaped at the woman who’d sucked him into danger as mercilessly as a riptide.

  Surprise didn’t come anywhere close to capturing the emotions churning through his gut.

  Heart pounding, he gripped the edge of the door and stared at her, the cloying scent of the climbing roses that hid the porch from street view activating his gag reflex.

  Her pleasant expression morphed into a pout. “I wasn’t expecting you to greet me with open arms, but I didn’t think you’d be rude.”

  Somehow he found his voice. “What are you doing here?”

  “We have unfinished business.”

  “Our business was finished in Germany.”

  “The army said it was. I don’t agree.”

  “You admitted you lied about me. End of story.”

  “Not quite.” She shrugged. “I might have exaggerated a little about our—”

  “You didn’t exaggerate. You lied.” Fury nipped at his taut words.

  “Oh, come on, Ben. You might not have done all the stuff I said, but you were interested in me at first. And I bet you still have feelings for me—like I do for you. Why can’t we let bygones be bygones?” She flashed him another smile.

  The woman was certifiable.

  “The only emotion I feel for you is anger and disgust.”

  The corner of her eye twitched. “You’ve found someone new, haven’t you? That local newspaper editor, maybe?”

  His palms began to sweat, and panic paralyzed his lungs again. “Have you been watching me?”

  “I just got here—but my private investigator earned his money.”

  Sweet heaven.

  She’d paid someone to spy on him.

  He clenched his free hand into a tight fist and tried to keep breathing as his world began to unravel.

  This couldn’t be happening.

  The nightmare in Germany was supposed to be over.

  No, not supposed to be. It was over.

  He gritted his teeth.

  Whatever her sick plan, Nicole was getting nowhere this go-round.

  Bracing, he summoned up a fierce glare and ground out his edict syllable by syllable. “I’m going to say this only once. You’re trespassing. Get off my property. Don’t come back. And don’t ever bother me again.”

  Before she could respond, he slammed the door and locked it.

  Without looking to see if she was lingering on the porch, he methodically went through the house and tested the latch on every single window. Closed the blinds. Bolted the back door.

  Once Skip’s home was as secure as he could make it, he called Lexie Graham Stone.

  This was a matter for the chief of police.

  “Knock knock.” Rachel stopped at the doorway to the spare bedroom, where Greg had been holed up every free minute he’d had since the lighthouse meeting Wednesday night.

  He swiveled away from the laptop. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “I’m not surprised. You were totally absorbed. Is the grill ready to fire up? Mom and Dad will be here in an hour.”

  “Yeah. What else can I do to help?” He closed the browser and stood.

  “You’ve already gone above and beyond. Thanks for taking them up to the lighthouse today and giving them a tour of the town while I worked.”

  He grinned. “I couldn’t believe how much I remembered from my old spiel. I’m sorry you couldn’t come with us.”

  “Me too. But Marci’s been so kind to me—to both of us—I had to help out during her family emergency. ”

  “When’s she coming back?”

  “Sunday.”

  “Good. We need to keep the project moving.”

  “Have you given any more thought to the proposal she made to you after the meeting?” Whether Greg realized it yet or not, the job with the lighthouse foundation was a huge blessing that would tap into his natural leadership and entrepreneurial abilities.

  “Yes. It’s sounding better and better—if I can do it. Dan thinks I should take it.”

  “Did you talk to him today?”

  “Yeah. He called to check up on me. I have one nosey brother.”

  “Also one who loves you very much.”

  “I know. I’m going to discuss the job in more detail with Marci after she gets back.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” She started to turn away . . . then swung back. “By the way, that blonde woman who was sitting in her car across the street at lunchtime? She’s still there. Did you notice any activity this afternoon?”

  “No. I’ve been glued to my computer.” Brow creasing, he crossed to the front window and tipped the blind slightly. “That’s weird.”

  “I agree.”

  “If she doesn’t clear out in a couple of hours, I’ll call the police.” He let the slat slip back into position. “In the meantime, let’s forget about her and enjoy our last evening with your mom and dad.”

  “I intend to.” She leaned against the doorframe. “It’s been a lovely few days.”

  “I’m glad I had the chance to get to know your parents better. They’re nice people.”

  “Yes, they are—but I wasn’t just talking about the fact we’re all back on speaking terms. It’s also been better between us.”

  He moved toward her, stopped three feet away, and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I told you I was going to work on that.”

  “And you’re proving to be a man of your word—but I already knew that.”

  He was close enough for her to see the tiny cleft in his chin and the slight stubble from his five-o’clock shadow.

  Close enough for her to touch.

  Her fingers began to tingle, and before she could stop herself, she took a step toward him and laid her hand on his chest.

  His breath hitched, and his irises darkened as he slowly pulled his hands out of his pockets.

  “I’ve missed this.” She splayed her fingers against the soft cotton T-shirt stretched over his firm skin.

  “That makes two of us.” He lifted one hand and placed it over hers, then captured her other hand in his. “I was thinking . . . after your mom and dad leave, why don’t we drive up to Shore Acres State Park? Charley said the roses are blooming in the gardens, and we could take a picnic. I’ll even provide the food.”

  Her throat tightened. “That’s the kind of outing you used to plan when we were dating.”

  “Those were happy days—and I want us to get back to that, Rachel. Re-creating some of those dates might help.”

  “You don’t have to twist my arm. I think it’s a wonderful idea. Like something from a romance novel.”

  He cringed—but the corners of his mouth flexed. “Just don’t tell Dan about this, okay? He’ll approve—but he’ll rib me no end about being sappy and sentimental.”

  “My lips are sealed.”

  “Not forever, I hope.” He gave her a slow, intimate smile that jacked up her pulse.

  “Don’t flirt with me, Greg Clark—or that moratorium you imposed might not last until tomorrow.”

  “Is that a threat . . . or a promise?” He waggled his eyebrows.

  At his comical antics, a giggle bubbled up inside her. “I’m not sure.”

  All at once, tenderness softened his eyes. “You know . . . that’s the first time I’ve heard you laugh in months. I’d forgotten how much I love that sound.” He held out his hand. “Let’s make a vow to put more laughter into our lives.”

  She grasped his fingers. “Shall we seal that pledge with a hug?”

  “I like that idea.”

  He pulled her close, and she wrapped her arms around him, the worry that had weighed down her shoulders all these months slipping off and evaporating like a Hope Harbor mist.

  This was where she belonged.

  And absent any new glitches, this was where she would stay.

  Forever.

  “Ben? It’s Lexie Graham Stone. Do you have a few minutes?”

  “Yes.” Cell against his ear, B
en dumped the remains of his frozen dinner into the garbage.

  “Is your visitor still in front?”

  “Last I looked—but let me verify that.” He strode toward the front of the house and peered through the peephole. “Yeah. Her car’s there. I don’t have a clear view from this angle, but I assume she’s inside. What did you find out?”

  “She’s staying at the Gull Motel in town. The clerk on duty said she checked in this morning for an indefinite stay.”

  He closed his eyes.

  Not what he’d wanted to hear.

  “Anything else?”

  “The address on her driver’s license is in Omaha—and it’s legit. She does have an apartment there. I couldn’t find any kind of work history. In terms of criminal activity, her civilian record is clean. I can’t speak to her army history.”

  “I know all about that history—at least the part that involved me.” So did Lexie. He’d given her a thorough briefing during her earlier visit.

  A beat passed.

  “This is a tough situation.”

  He already knew that.

  “Is there anything we can do to get her off my back?”

  “Civil trespassing charges are difficult to make stick. I can cite her if she breaks any of the laws in town—littering, speeding, parking in a no-parking zone—but otherwise there’s not much recourse unless she attempts to inflict harm or begins to manifest severe mental issues. Sitting in front of someone’s house or following them with no evidence of physical threat isn’t a crime. It’s a nuisance—and an annoyance.”

  As far as he was concerned, it went way beyond that.

  But Lexie was in a bind here too. Her hands were tied unless Nicole broke a law.

  “Any recommendations?”

  “Given your history, I’d say avoid her at all costs. Don’t get anywhere close to her unless you’re in a public place with witnesses around. Keep your house and car locked. And hope she gets tired of this game and goes home.”

  “I’m not holding my breath on that. She can be persistent.” Not to mention vindictive. “Unless she runs out of money, she could hang around here until she makes my life totally miserable.”

  “Except you’ll be leaving soon yourself, right?”