Margie beamed, relayed the praise to her significant other by hollering it at the top of her voice. “Hear that, Max. You have a fan.”
From the long window into the kitchen, Max waved his spatula in Eastlyn’s direction and yelled just as loud as Margie had, “The girl knows good food.”
“I never got that kind of reaction when I heaped compliments on Max for his meatloaf,” Cooper pointed out. “I’ve traveled all over, too, you know. And I’ve been here a hundred times more than Eastlyn.”
Margie waved a hand in Cooper’s direction. “We’re used to you. I’ve come to appreciate the newcomers. They breathe new life into this town. Just look at what Nick’s done. New ideas, new business, and new people, add in the school reopening and it does wonders for my bank account.”
“As long as it helps your bottom line.” Eastlyn gave the owner a strange look before trading glances with Cooper.
After Margie bagged up their food order, they left for the lighthouse. But when Cooper started to take a blanket out of the trunk of the car, Eastlyn stopped him.
“I think I’ll forego sitting on the ground and…”
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
“It’s no big deal.” Carrying the sack with the burgers, she pointed to a bench near the cliff. “I’ll opt for the view over the water.” She started toward what she thought of as the scenic observation point and said over her shoulder, “By the way, do you have any idea what this inscription means?”
“What inscription?”
Eastlyn stood in front of a raised base made from the same stone that matched the keeper’s cottage. On top of the platform sat a five-foot-long garden bench with a black and gold plaque screwed into the back.
She stepped up on the six-inch high foundation to read the words out loud: “In memory of Isabella Rialto, whose spirit lives on within those who loved her.”
“Beats me. But how can it read ‘in memory’ when Isabella is alive and married to Thane Delacourt?”
Eastlyn took out a burger, handed one off to Cooper. Peeling back the wrapper on hers, she dug in but she couldn’t let go of her curiosity. “That’s the same thing I thought the first time I read it. Why would you erect a memorial to yourself, especially since you’re alive? I didn’t want to ask and make it appear like I was a nosy busybody, but…it’s odd, don’t you think?”
Cooper reached in the bag and dug out a French fry. “It’s gotta be another Isabella.”
“What are the odds of that? That a woman we know as Isabella puts a bench here dedicated to someone else with the same name? I wonder… You did say Isabella had a run-in with an ex. Maybe it has something to do with that?”
“We should find out. Only way to know for sure is to ask the source. That’s your department.”
“Why me? You’ve been in town longer. Why couldn’t you utilize the handy rumor mill in town and dig deeper?”
“Because whatever we found out would probably be more speculation than fact. And I don’t really know Isabella that well to open up a dialogue about why she put the bench here. You work for her, see her every day. You’re the logical choice.”
“How do I bring it up in conversation?”
“You’ll find a way. I do know Isabella special-ordered this thing from Ferguson’s Hardware. I just thought she chose to place it here because of the scenic overhang. You know, so people could sit and look out to sea like we are now. I didn’t even know about the inscription.”
Eastlyn looked out over the water. “It’s a pretty spot, maybe my favorite in the entire town. This is where I’d like to plant lavender. I have to run it by Isabella first though. What I’d do is spread the seedlings along here to set this section apart from the rest. And over there by the lighthouse, I’d like to make that the strawberry patch, a pick-your-own-basket type deal.”
“Both plants should do well here along the coast.”
Abruptly she pivoted on her hip to face Coop. “There’s something that’s been bothering me since we left the farm. Why do you suppose that old chopper was covered up the way it was, like it was purposely hidden from view? You say there’s no paper on it that you’ve been able to locate.”
“Hey, I just helped with inventory. Lots of us turned out for that. Murphy might know the whereabouts of the title, or at least the bird’s history. Nick might be another one who’d know. I’ll find out for you.”
“Good, because I think I want it.”
“You think? When will you know?”
“As soon as I work out a few logistics.”
“Like what?”
“I hate to beat this drum to a dull bang but getting my license back will likely be an uphill battle. It’s a very big deal to me. If things go south in that area and I find I’m the owner of a refurbished bird that I can’t fly, selling it to a collector might be the only option I have down the road.”
“Tell you what, let’s get your mind off this decision.” He offered his hand to help her step down off the platform. “Come on, I hear the seals from here. They’re calling our name. If we hurry we’ll make it before the Fanning Center closes its doors.”
They spent the rest of the afternoon watching the playful sea otters and stayed until Pete Alden, the caretaker, locked the gate.
“I feel like I’ve been to the circus and the zoo all in one day,” Eastlyn said as they walked back to the car.
He slid his hand into hers. “How do you feel about trains?”
She sent him a quizzical look, then decided she knew where he was going with the question. “Freight or passenger? Doesn’t matter. Why don’t you show me your trains, Cooper?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
After ten minutes inside the store, Eastlyn felt the draw of his model railway sets. Another playful side to him emerged as they fiddled with different configurations and layouts until Eastlyn was as captivated with him as she was the trains. They spent two hours, putting sets together that didn’t match and coming up with city designs they’d seen in their travels.
By the time he pulled up in front of her house it was almost eleven o’clock. They’d spent more than twelve hours together. It had been a long time since that had happened for either one of them.
But when they reached the front door, Eastlyn could tell he wanted to come inside. She wasn’t ready for more. “Look, I appreciate you taking me out to Cleef’s and letting me know about the chopper. I appreciate the hot make-out kisses since it’s been a while for me.”
She thought back to a boozy night around Christmastime of last year. The memory didn’t exactly bring to mind candy canes and tinsel. It wasn’t sugar plums she’d had dancing in her head, more like shots of tequila mixed with painkillers. That night, Durke had refused to serve her after ten o’clock so she’d moved on to another bar around the corner where she’d met an oilfield worker named Tex. Or was it Rex?
Cooper’s voice, tinged with irritation, brought her back to the present. “I’m not shoving you into the sack, am I? I just thought we could watch a little TV together. My mistake.”
He turned to go but Eastlyn latched onto his shirtsleeve. “Don’t go away mad and ruin what a great day we had together. Give me some time, okay? Right now, I’m in the middle of working out a lot of things about myself that I need to fix. I’m doing the best I know how to do. Every day is a struggle.”
Coop knew about inner demons taking hold and not wanting to let go. “You want to sleep with me,” he stated matter-of-factly. “There’s no point denying it. I can tell each time I kiss you.”
“Okay, I’m attracted to you. We already agreed on that. So what?”
As he started for the car, he turned back. “I’m not in the habit of rushing women. But I don’t play games, either. As long as you know where we’re headed, and that we’re on the same page, I’m okay with waiting for you to get your head on straight.”
Seven
After a good night’s sleep, that’s the first thing that popped into her head when
she stood under the shower trying to wake up.
Was she on the same page as Cooper? That was the thousand-dollar question.
She liked his no-nonsense manner, the way he delivered a punch line, his easygoing nature. She had a feeling there was more to this hunk than she’d had a chance to wrap her arms around.
As she hopped out of the shower to dry off and get dressed, she found herself annoyed with her thought process. She should’ve been focused solely getting her license back and moving toward what she wanted. Instead, she wasted her time like some schoolgirl thinking all mushy thoughts over a boy.
She knew better. Her track record with men—especially since the loss of her leg—was doomed to failure. The sooner she put Cooper Richmond on the backburner, the better off she’d be.
Eastlyn took that attitude to work with her as she walked the newly turned rows of dirt she’d fashioned for the co-op’s planting project.
She stood in the middle of the spot designated for growing spinach and Swiss chard, feeling skeptical about the whole venture.
When she heard a car door slam shut she glanced toward the keeper’s cottage, only to see Isabella bounding toward her in an energetic state.
Eastlyn searched the woman’s eyes for the reason. But the smile on her boss’s face said it couldn’t be that serious, certainly not bad news.
“I’m pregnant,” Isabella announced, slightly out of breath. “Due in seven months. Thane is about to burst wide open with the news. By noon when he opens the doors at Longboard Pizza he’ll no doubt spread the word one customer at a time.”
Eastlyn chuckled. “Congrats. He’s not the only one. I guess that explains why you look as though you’re about to burst wide open too,” Eastlyn noted, reaching out to give her a hug. “How is Jonah taking the news?”
Jonah, Isabella’s stepson, had recently turned seven. Eastlyn knew from seeing the boy around town that the kid considered Isabella his mom.
“Jonah is thrilled to have a baby brother. We’ve tried to explain to him, numerous times since yesterday when I found out for certain, that the baby might possibly be a sister. But Jonah’s got it into his head it’ll be a boy. And no matter how many times or how many ways we explain it to him, he won’t think of having a sister.”
“Uh-oh. You know what that means?”
“Yep, I sure do. It’s bound to be a little girl. Thane and I don’t care which though as long as we have a healthy baby. You know Jonah had medical problems when he was born because of his mother’s drug addiction.” Isabella’s olive complexion turned to gray as if she’d put her foot in her mouth. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up drug addiction…”
Eastlyn patted her arm. “Relax. It’s okay. I’m well aware of the problems I’ve had, brought on by myself without any help from anyone else. So there’s no need to tippy-toe around the subject.”
“At least you sought treatment. Alyson, Jonah’s mother, never had the foresight to do that. Look, there’s something I want to talk to you about. Thane and I discussed this in detail last night. I think because of the pregnancy, I’ll have to find someone to take over for me here at the co-op. Even though I decided not to use toxins on the crops, the blowing dust from the plowing is beginning to bother my allergies, a lot. I found that out weeks ago. Now that I’m pregnant, I don’t think it’s a good idea to be around all the blowing dust as much. Don’t worry. I’ll still manage the day-to-day operations, ordering and paperwork, getting the specifics ironed out, stuff like that. But as far as the hands-on role goes… I’m afraid it takes a backseat to everything else. Thane’s way too busy at Longboard Pizza to add to his schedule. The bottom line is, Thane and I believe you’re the person to oversee things on site.”
“Me? Why me? Okay, so I’m the only regular here, except for Silas and Ben. And they have jobs back at Taggert Farms. It’s just that I told you when I took this job that I’m hoping to eventually get my pilot’s license back. And when that happens…”
Isabella laid a hand on her arm. “Don’t worry. Thane and I know it’s just until you do. Your hours won’t change all that much. I promise it won’t interfere one bit with your other jobs, in fact, think of it as a pay raise. You take away a chunk of my daily responsibilities here and it frees up all kinds of time for me to handle all the other things at home.”
That had Eastlyn wondering about how she’d handle all the work on the helicopter and find the time to work on getting her license back.
But the hopeful look on Isabella’s face and the reminder that the woman had given her a job when she needed one had Eastlyn blurting out, “Okay. Sure. I’ll do it. What else have I got to do?”
“Great. I’ll make sure you’re caught up to speed on all the week’s plans, all the ordering, all the details on the volunteers I have lined up.”
Eastlyn saw an opening. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“What’s with the bench?”
“What do you mean?”
“The plaque says it’s in memory of Isabella. It doesn’t make sense that it would be you.”
Eastlyn noticed the topic had taken the happy glint out of Isabella’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so nosy and upset you.”
“No, it’s okay. Ever since I donated this land back to the town, it’s a public place. That includes the bench. But to answer your question, in a way, that Isabella and I, are definitely one and the same. You see, she and I shared a kindred spirit and a horrible taste in men. I was lucky enough to escape my situation. That Isabella was not. But there are many other Isabellas out there. Most wonder whether they’ll ever be fast enough or fortunate enough to get out of their miserable relationships and live a decent life. That bench is one way to always remember there’s hope, even if it’s only a fifty-fifty shot.”
“I’m so sorry you lost your friend,” Eastlyn said again, not knowing what else to say. “I…”
“Surprisingly not all that many in town ever asked me about the bench. I think most people consider me a little eccentric. I’m just the weird newcomer who stuck a bench near the cliff and put my own name on it. I appreciate you asking. It gives me the chance to talk about her. Someday when we have more time, I’ll tell you the whole story.”
“I’d love to hear it. That kind of statement only heightens my curiosity.”
“Now I’m the one sorry. But today isn’t the day for stories.”
“Then I’ll get back to work. Do you still want me to get Landon’s input on whether eggplant is doable?”
Isabella laughed at the abrupt change in subject matter. “Oh yeah. Eggplant and cilantro.”
“I spoke with Shelby in detail and she agrees with me that we should try growing at least five different herbs. I’d like to make it six and include lavender on that list.”
Eastlyn noted the grimace on Isabella’s face and quickly added, “Yes, I’m fully aware that lavender’s more decorative than practical. But Hayden Cody, who runs the bookstore, said she could extract oil from it to make fragrant candles.”
“That sounds promising.”
“And the other day when I picked up a pizza from Longboard’s, I asked the man there who makes the pies…”
“Fischer Robbins.”
“That’s the guy. Anyway, I asked him about its practical uses in cooking and he said that he’d buy whatever we have on hand to use it to make lavender ice cream.”
Eastlyn saw the concern drain of Isabella’s eyes and turn to amusement.
“Now see, that’s another reason you’ll be perfect at supervising the planting and everything else out here. So we’ll add lavender to the rosemary, chives, mint, sage, and basil plot we already picked out.”
“Thanks. But… I thought we could spread the lavender seedlings out near the overhang, that area near the bench where people tend to sit and look out over the water. They use it as a scenic observation point. That area will look amazing when the plants get big enough to bloom and spread.”
E
astlyn noticed Isabella dabbing at her watery eyes. She didn’t think it was allergy related.
Isabella sniffed and said, “That’s a wonderful idea. I can picture it now. Has anyone ever told you that you have a knack for this sort of thing?”
“My father was an avid gardener. Since getting here I’m finding I like playing around in the dirt.” Eastlyn lifted a shoulder. “Who knew?”
Eastlyn decided to get Isabella’s mind going in a different direction. “For example, if we put raised beds up near that patch of open space at the corner of the lighthouse where the sun is practically an all-day thing, it would serve as an ideal spot for growing strawberries. We could offer a pick-your-own-basket day. Which brings me to another question? How does all this get divvied up?”
“Whenever they sign up to volunteer their time, they’re asked to list which crops they’re interested in taking care of and then receiving?”
“I’m impressed. So you’re still getting plenty of volunteers to help us out with the planting?”
“You bet. The list gets longer every day. People are enthusiastic and eager. So it’s our job to see their excitement stays at a fever pitch during planting and keeps going until it’s time to harvest. You say the word and I’ll have thirty people willing to sow the seeds by this afternoon.”
“Then you should probably know there’s been considerable lack of interest toward butter beans,” Eastlyn quipped.
Isabella grinned again. “Ah, well, Fischer and Jonah predicted that might be the case. We’d better scratch that crop.”
“We could always add more tomatoes, they grow vertical and it would free up space to plant a patch of red and yellow peppers.”
Isabella patted her on the back. “I love the way we’re always on the same page.”
“At least with vegetables.”
The boss smiled again as if she knew a secret. “We have good taste in men, too. Cooper Richmond’s a real hottie.”
Eastlyn sighed. “I knew it. I suppose if I’m willing to dish out dirt on Sydney Reed, I ought to be able to take it when it comes back around to me. I knew it would be a matter of hours before the tongues started wagging. The thing is, how did word spread so fast? This is Monday.”
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