No Ordinary Summer

by Linda Barrett

  The current lessee, Laura McCloud, had rented off-season. The house had been vacant in March, and although Bart was under no obligation to rent it, Laura had proved to be a wonderful choice.

  Shelley Anderson, too, would be another feather in his cap. Her kids were more important than her pride about the adjusted rent. Yes, indeed, Shelley Anderson was just the kind of tenant they sought.

  Bart rubbed his hands together. The professor was paying full freight; the kindergarten teacher was reaping the benefits. They both needed a summer in Pilgrim Cove. Sea View House was a perfect match for each. And all arranged by Bartholomew Quinn.

  He reached for his sweater and walked to his office door. Jane Fisher could handle the last hours of the day. “I’ll be at the Lobster Pot with my daughters,” he told the new employee as he left the building. “My work for today is finished, and a bowl of their prize-winning clam chowder is my reward.”

  “Mr. Quinn, you’re always at the Lobster Pot at the end of the day!” said Jane.

  “And why not?” replied Bart. “My two daughters own it, and my family hangs out there. Maggie and Thea would call the police if I didn’t show up!”

  “Then go, go, go.” The woman made sweeping motions with her hands before reaching for the ringing phone.

  “I’m on my way. And you close up on time. Your own daughters will be waiting and they’re a lot younger than my two.”

  She waved him away and started chatting with the caller. Asking questions, taking notes.

  Bart watched for a moment, nodded and then walked out the door. Yes, indeed. He could still pick ’em. With a jaunty step, he almost danced to his car.

  Memorial Day weekend promised to start the season with a whoosh. Not only would Sea View House have two lovely people, but the town would also celebrate the marriage of longtime residents Rick O’Brien, retired chief of police, and Dee Barnes, manager of the Diner on the Dunes. And none other than Bart Quinn was standing up as best man for the chief.

  After opening the car door, Bart paused, the key jingling in his hand. Summer in Pilgrim Cove looked more than promising. Heck! Summer be damned! He loved the town in every season. Life in Bart’s stomping grounds was never dull.

  ON THE MONDAY before the Memorial Day weekend, Daniel Stone pulled away from the Quinn Real Estate and Property Management office, the keys to the second-floor apartment of Sea View House in his pocket.

  “We got hoodwinked, Jess,” he said to the golden retriever sitting next to him on the front seat of his SUV. “The old man never said anything about a woman and two children sharing a house with us. And it’s too late to move. Everything else on the beach is rented.”

  The dog thumped her tail in reply, without taking her eyes from the passing scenes outside the window of the moving vehicle.

  “Not concerned about an invasion of privacy, are you?” asked Dan as he scratched his loyal friend behind her ears. Jess crooned with pleasure and for a moment, Daniel’s heart was light, his mind on nothing but the moment. An ocean breeze, a lovable dog, a car ride. Sweet and innocent.

  He turned onto Beach Street and pulled into the driveway of the big corner house. “The hell with it, Jess. We’ll just ignore the neighbors and go about our business. We may be starting over on the East Coast, but that doesn’t mean we want a lot of people in our lives. Especially not a woman whose hair—now what did Bart Quinn say? Oh, yeah—had ‘red dancing lights in it.’ Why would we care? You and I know that no one can ever replace Nikki.”

  The dog whined at the sound of the beloved name, and Dan almost joined her in chorus. After two years, he still choked whenever he thought about his wife. His beautiful wife, who’d cried with happiness at hearing the news of her pregnancy three months before the accident. A pregnancy they’d both thought would never happen.

  He’d tried to teach himself to be strong, but he’d learned by now that grief couldn’t be banished. At least, not by him. Not when he thought about his Nikki—joyful woman, childhood sweetheart, best friend. She would have been a wonderful mother. He blinked hard. He’d loved her from the moment he’d met her in junior high.

  Damn that bus! Damn that rain! She hadn’t had a prayer of surviving. They’d all known it, but they’d prayed anyway. Of course, neither she nor the too-small infant had survived. In the beginning, Daniel hadn’t thought his in-laws would, either. Nikki was their first-born. Their bright, beautiful girl. Her death had devastated them as much as it had him.

  In the end, however, they’d had each other for comfort. They had other children, grandchildren and the promise of more. And, like his own parents, they’d worried about him, too. Included him in family events. But, at the end of the day, it was Daniel who was truly alone, his pain a constant companion.

  “And now, Jess, we’re three thousand miles away from home so there won’t be reminders everywhere we go.” Except for the memories in his own head. A person couldn’t escape those.

  He opened the car door and let the dog jump out. Nikki’s dog, really. He didn’t doubt for a moment Jess’s ability to grieve, either. She knew Nikki was not coming back, and had attached herself to Daniel as though afraid to lose him, as well. Or maybe to protect him from harm.

  “Okay, Jess. Time to unload.” He unlocked the side door to the house, his private entrance to the Crow’s Nest, grabbed a suitcase from the car and started up the inside staircase.

  The door at the top of the stairs opened directly into a large, bright kitchen with sliding doors leading to a deck at the back of the house. The deck had been the deciding factor for Daniel. He could sit out there enjoying the sights and sounds of the beach. Enjoying an unimpeded view of the ocean. Watching everything and everyone to his heart’s content while still maintaining his privacy.

  He carried the first suitcase into the big bedroom, then went downstairs for more items. He grabbed Jess’s water bowl, took fishing rods, a baseball glove and a surfboard and stashed them in the tiny bedroom along with a carton of law books. Out of the car came a bag of paperbacks—all thriller reads. Pure escape. Perfect for the summer. His laptop, printer and supplies went into his large bedroom, which contained an oversize desk and chair.

  When Dan’s vehicle was empty and his possessions stored, he stepped from room to room and nodded. The Crow’s Nest was a fully functional, compact apartment—perfect as a temporary home for a single man, with or without canine. Curtains bordered the windows; oval rugs covered the bedroom floors. That was the extent of the decorating. Plain and uncomplicated. Just as he hoped his new life on the East Coast—both here and later in Boston—was going to be.

  He wanted nothing more than calm, uncomplicated days. A summer at the beach should provide him with just that. Except… Mr. Bartholomew Quinn had probably ruined that expectation. Why couldn’t the Realtor have rented the downstairs to a quiet retired couple?

  CHAPTER THREE

  SHE SHOULD HAVE WAITED until Saturday morning to make the trip to Pilgrim Cove with the kids. The Friday-night holiday-weekend traffic had been horrific getting out of Boston, and a normal two-hour trip had lasted six—especially with dinner and more bathroom breaks than a human bladder could possibly need. In reality, using the rest rooms had become an excuse for stretching their legs.

  And now Shelley was approaching Sea View House at almost eleven o’clock at night and had to bother her upstairs neighbor for the key to her apartment. That’s what Bart Quinn had suggested when she’d called him on her cell phone two hours earlier to say she’d be arriving much later than anticipated.

  “I’ll leave the key with Daniel Stone,” Bart had said. “He’s home most evenings, so it’ll be convenient for everyone. Especially me!” And then Bart had invited her and the children to breakfast the next morning at the Diner on the Dunes, a popular eatery near his office, which he’d said was very easy to find.

  How could she argue about anything when Bart was being so helpful and she was the one at fault? But she felt awful about disturbing the professor tonight. Su
rely, an older gentleman would want to retire early, probably had a routine he followed, and because of her would now feel obligated to stay up late. Annoying her closest neighbor was not the best way to start the summer!

  Shelley sighed as she turned onto Outlook Drive and headed toward Beach Street. Nothing she could do about it now, but she’d try to make it up to Professor Stone with a homemade peach pie or, better yet, a home-cooked dinner. Bart had said the man was a widower. Maybe he’d enjoy one of her soft-as-butter Yankee pot-roast meals, or one of her Italian specialties, or… Recipes shuffled through her mind like a deck of cards in the hands of a Las Vegas dealer. She felt herself relax. One problem solved.

  She signaled left on Beach Street and realized she’d have to park in front of the house. Professor Stone’s big car, or whatever his vehicle was called, sat in the driveway. If she pulled in behind him, he wouldn’t be able to leave until she did. They’d have to work something out very soon about using the driveway, because on-street parking was limited in the summer due to the large numbers of beach goers.

  Shelley pulled to a stop in front of Sea View House and glanced up at the second floor, glad to see lights on inside. Then she released her seat belt and twisted around to look at Josh and Emily asleep in the back. Still in their own safety belts, they’d somehow managed to lean toward each other, fingers touching across the pillow between them. A true picture-perfect moment. Her heart filled as she studied them. Beautiful. Innocent. Confused.

  She quietly opened her door, stepped out of the car and, on impulse, lifted her eyes to the vast star-studded heavens. “Dear God,” she breathed, her hands clutching the door’s edge, “please grant me the wisdom to help make my children happy again. That’s all. Amen.” Short and simple, but fervent, and with as deep a yearning as any mother’s prayer ever uttered. She felt a tear escape the corner of her eye and wiped it away with an impatient stroke. Darn! She should have prayed for courage and strength!

  She closed the door gently, walked to the back of her car and opened the trunk. If God helped those who helped themselves, then she’d better get busy! She grabbed the first suitcase.

  FROM HIS BEDROOM, where he lay propped against the pillows catching up with the adventures of Jack Ryan, Daniel heard the soft click of a car door through his open window. He glanced at his watch, then checked the street. Jess stood on her hind legs, front paws on the sill, looking out next to him. Yeah, Toyota Camry. Woman standing by the open door. His neighbor had finally arrived, just as Bart said she would.

  He was about to go downstairs and hand over the keys, when in the combined light of the moon and front-yard pole lamp, he saw her look at the sky, then dab her face. Damn! Forget his intentions. He wasn’t going anywhere near a crying woman. He turned from the window, walked to the kitchen and downed a glass of water. Jess stood at the kitchen door, whining to go out. Nature wasn’t calling; adventure was.

  “Hang on a minute, girl.” Daniel stepped to the front window again and checked his neighbor’s actions. Good. The woman—what was her name? Susan? Sheila?—was unpacking the trunk. Safe enough. He grabbed the keys to the downstairs apartment from the kitchen table, opened the door and jogged down the flight, Jessie at his heels.

  He turned left when he reached the driveway and continued to the front of the house. The woman was on the concrete path halfway to the porch, the large duffel bag in her arms bigger than she was in every direction. Maybe her short straight hair and her slender neck just made her seem delicate. From his six-foot vantage point, she looked…small.

  “Need some help?” he asked, good manners overcoming his need to toss her the keys and beat a hasty retreat.

  She screamed, twirled, and the bag dropped to the ground. Her wide-open eyes reflected their terror. Her hands fisted at her sides. The dog barked once and trotted toward her.

  Daniel stopped in his tracks. “Heel, Jessie.” The golden came right to his side, sat and looked up at him. “Good girl.” He patted her with automatic movements, but kept looking at the petrified woman.

  “It’s all right,” he said. “I’m Daniel Stone, your upstairs neighbor, and this is Jessie. As gentle as they come. I’m sorry you were startled.”

  She said nothing. Just stared.

  “Look,” said Dan, holding out his hand, keys dangling. “These belong to you.” Great. Just great. He’d be sharing his summer with a lunatic. He’d murder Bart Quinn the next time he saw him.

  The woman’s eyes narrowed. She glanced toward the car and back at him without moving her head. He wondered how she did that. He already understood the why. She was protecting her kids. So maybe she wasn’t crazy.

  “Didn’t Bart Quinn tell you I’d have the keys?” Scintillating conversation. Daniel didn’t know what else to say or do, except get a cell phone for her to call Quinn. And that’s what this plan had been all about in the first place. Saving Bartholomew Quinn from having to be up so late.

  “You’re the professor?” Her voice, laced with incredulity, squeaked at the end of her question.

  He nodded.

  And then she started to laugh. And couldn’t stop. She flopped onto the duffel bag, holding her stomach. “The—the professor?”

  Certifiable. The laugh was wholesome, lyrical, but the lady was definitely certifiable.

  “I’m sorry,” she finally said. “But I expected an elderly man. I had the whole scenario in my head. White hair, maybe a walking stick…” She fell suddenly silent, and looked at him with compassion, before pushing herself to her feet.

  Daniel knew exactly what she was thinking. Bart Quinn had undoubtedly told her about Nikki. Not about the pregnancy. Bart only knew what Dan had chosen to tell, and Dan had drawn the line at that revelation.

  She walked to him and offered her hand. “I’m Shelley Anderson, who’s just learned that Harvard professors can have only—” she squinted at him “—a few strands of gray.”

  He took her hand in his. It was small. Small, soft but firm when she grasped his palm. Her eyes were dark brown, darker than his. “And I’m Daniel Stone, who can tell Bart he was right.”

  She tilted her head in question.

  “My downstairs neighbor has strands of sparkling red in her hair.”

  To her left, a car door slammed, distracting her, and suddenly two children appeared and started running toward their mother. Shelley eyed the dog and took a giant step back, allowing more room for her youngsters, preventing them from crowding the dog.

  Jessie’s tail wagged in quick-march tempo, sweeping the ground where she sat. She started to rise, her attention on the young newcomers. Dan knelt down and patted her. “Stay,” he whispered. The dog loved children, but Dan could tell that Mrs. Anderson was apprehensive. All he wanted was a peaceful summer, not trouble with the kids downstairs, or their attractive but questionably sane mother.

  But trouble stared at him from the scowling face of a brown-haired boy. A boy who’d stepped in front of his mom as soon as he saw Daniel. He could have just as easily been wearing a sign saying Keep Away From My Mother.

  The little girl, on the other hand, leaned against her mom’s leg and sucked contentedly on her thumb, her eyes half-closed.

  “Who’s he?” asked the boy.

  “Josh!” Disapproval rang in the woman’s voice. “No need to be rude. This is Professor Stone, our upstairs neighbor.”

  The kid’s expression didn’t change, his mom’s words bouncing off him like arrows bouncing off an armored knight. Nothing was getting past the boy. Certainly not the upstairs neighbor.

  “And these are my children, Joshua and Emily, who definitely need to be asleep.” She glanced at Josh, then at Dan with an apologetic smile.

  She was fooling herself if she thought Josh’s attitude came from lack of sleep. Dan shrugged. Not his business!

  “I’ve still got these,” said Dan, holding out the set of keys. He looked at Jessie. “Stay.” Then he walked toward his neighbors and handed Shelley the key ring.

  “Thanks,�
�� she said, looking at him, then the dog. “I guess you’d better introduce us.”

  “An excellent idea.” Finally, something sensible out of her mouth! He studied the youngsters. Both sets of eyes were on Jessie, who was as alert as ever. Sitting tall and waiting.

  “Come on, Jess,” invited Dan, motioning the golden to his side. He swore the dog actually grinned. “This is my friend Jess,” he began, directing his speech toward the children. “She loves to swim and she loves to play, and she loves…to be loved.” Dan scratched Jess behind the ears, patting her the entire time while the dog crooned in ecstasy. “She’s a golden retriever, and she’s six years old.”

  “Ooh. I’m six years old, too.”

  Dan looked at Emily, who looked back at him, her eyes as round as the moon in the night sky. Seemed she surprised herself by speaking up. “Six years old?” Dan said. “Well, isn’t that something?”

  “She’s big.” The child stared at Jess. “Bigger than me.”

  Daniel didn’t need to be a Harvard professor to understand what she was telling him. He knelt next to the dog. “She is big, Emily, but very, very gentle. She loves people. Especially children.”

  The girl looked up at her mother.

  Shelley smiled. “Let’s go say hello to Jess.” She turned to her son. “You, too, Josh. The dog needs to know you, so she knows you belong here, at Sea View House.”

  Within seconds, the youngsters were petting his dog and lavishing attention on her. Jessie was in doggie heaven, returning their affection, licking them both as though they were the most important people in the world. But it was Joshua Anderson who captured Daniel’s attention. His eyes sparkled, and he giggled. Every time Jess snuggled her snout under the boy’s arm and licked him, he laughed again. The child was finally acting like a regular kid. Not that Dan knew a lot about child development.