Surprised at hearing her earlier thoughts voiced out loud, she said, “I don’t know. Small towns don’t usually take to newcomers.”
Jordan grinned knowingly. “Yeah, I wish I could tell you Pelican Pointe is different. But it’s not. It has its own problems. But the town sorely needs some fresh blood, new residents and new businesses to keep it thriving and growing. We need people with new ideas so that the town keeps going, keeps changing, doesn’t die off.”
Jordan stared at one of Lilly’s paintings, a watercolor of the Pelican Pointe fishing pier. Since the B & B had opened in May, Lilly had sold at least fifteen of her framed artworks to Jordan’s guests.
By working the full summer season for the B & B Lilly had saved enough money to officially put an end to her dependency on county welfare. By the end of the summer season she had moved out of Derek Stovall’s trailer and into a rented two-bedroom cottage bungalow two blocks from the wharf, known locally as Smuggler’s Bay.
Jordan knew Wally Pierce had been instrumental in helping Lilly find her little house to rent since she and Wally had been seeing each other steady for several months now. Lilly’s life had infinitely improved over the past six months.
Jordan liked to think she’d had a little something to do with that.
If Ethan was right and Hayden was in trouble or running from something, Jordan knew for certain an outsider like Hayden could use a friend. Anyone could use a friend. And Jordan personally knew something about needing one. She had spent too many lonely months out here by herself not to appreciate how important friends could be. So she intended to nudge Hayden toward a friendship―and to staying.
“Is there anything besides accounting you’ve always wanted to do, maybe a hobby you really liked, something that interested you enough to spend time doing? It’s just that I’m not sure an accountant could make a go of it in Pelican Pointe. Most people own small businesses and tend to do their own books.” She knew Murphy did. And Lilly kept Wally’s. And Margie had a head for numbers.
Jordan spread out the county newspaper to make her point. “The thing is, as you can see there aren’t a lot of help-wanted classifieds. This is a pretty depressed area right now, and that includes Santa Cruz.”
Hayden turned from the window and stared at Jordan. She’d been afraid of not being able to find a job even with her accounting background what with the economy so dead.
“You’re suggesting I stay in Pelican Pointe and…what, open a business? But…”
“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting. Before you say no, hear me out. There are plenty of vacant storefronts along Ocean Street and Main that need a tenant. Right now they’re dirt cheap, leasewise.”
“But you just said it’s a depressed area.”
“For jobs. But Pelican Pointe needs some―local flavor, new businesses to keep locals and tourists interested in the town. I’m not saying that we get a lot of tourists here, yet. But with the opening of the B & B, we’re getting more than we used to. I’m not suggesting it’ll be easy. It won’t be. But…”
It was sweet of this woman to want her to stay but Hayden had to make her understand. “Look Jordan, I appreciate the thought, but I don’t have the kind of capital needed to start a business. I’m stretched a tad thin right now.” And couldn’t get a loan as Hayden Ryan even if she begged. But she couldn’t tell Jordan that.
“It wouldn’t take much. Look, I have a friend, her name’s Lilly. See that painting over there on the wall, the one of the fishing pier? That’s one of Lilly’s. She too, was a newcomer to Pelican Pointe. Not six months ago she took a hobby and turned it into her own little business.
“Now granted, she still works here three days a week, helping me. And she has a part time job at Wally’s service station running the counter, keeping the books, ordering parts, that sort of thing, while Wally concentrates on the repair side. She also paints signs. Lilly is hardworking and industrious because she has two kids to support.”
Jordan took a breath before going on, “The point is if you’re looking to set down roots, looking for a friend or two, we could put our heads together and see if we can find something for you here. Maybe think outside the box. God knows, it worked for Lilly.”
“Why on earth would you do that, for a complete stranger? You don’t even know me.”
Now where had she heard that before? “Because at one time or another everyone could use a friend and I wasn’t kidding when I said the town needs new blood. Those storefronts are sitting there wasting good space because Pelican Pointe’s been dying for years. Nick and I think it’s time we brought it back.”
“It’s an intriguing idea. I’m just not sure I have any potential. Accounting came easy for me in college so I really never strayed far from my major. It was what I did for four years.” She thought back to all those job interviews she’d had in Chicago after her career was destroyed by her association with the Ponzi King.
People hadn’t exactly been warm and fuzzy at the prospect of hiring someone who had been associated with the likes of Dochenko. Nor would they be so inclined anywhere in the USA. for that matter because she had no real references except Kate.
Okay, so her career was in the toilet, DOA even. So what was she going to do to earn a living now? When she saw Jordan waiting for further explanation, Hayden sighed. “As for hobbies I’m not sure I have any to speak of that I could turn into a moneymaking proposition. I like to ice skate, go hiking when I have the time, used to love the outdoors. But I don’t think that’s what you mean.” Hayden gave her a wry smile.
“Well no.” Jordan chuckled. “Not exactly what I had in mind.”
“I was a camp counselor in high school, a life guard during the summer. I worked my way through college as a waitress. The tips were pretty good. And I spent some time working in the university day care center as an assistant. See the problem?” She eyed the newspaper on the kitchen table. “Could I take a look at those classifieds?”
“Sure.” Jordan slid the paper across the table, watched as Hayden ambled over and sat down, began to peruse the want ads. She already knew there wasn’t much in them for a career woman like Hayden.
“It isn’t like it has to be decided right now. Stay here another day or two, enjoy the sights, go into Pelican Pointe, maybe check out the town and see what you think. Maybe seeing it up close and personal something will inspire you.”
Jordan laughed. “Okay, that might be setting your expectations a tad high. But make sure you go down to the wharf though. Check out Smuggler’s Bay. That’s the area of town with the best view. And the best place to get a feel for what the town has to offer, get the most local flavor. You know a bar for the locals, a gift shop for the tourists, the bait and tackle shop, that sort of thing.”
“Okay. But I need gas. I’m running on fumes. Oh, look here’s something,” she said, as she read over the ad. “Springer Real Estate needs a receptionist. It’s part time but…”
“You stay away from Springer Real Estate,” Jordan warned. “Kent Springer, the owner, will more than likely be serving jail time soon, probably before the holidays.” At least she hoped he didn’t get off after getting caught trying to set fire to Promise Cove. “I don’t see how his real estate business will be able to stay open if he’s convicted and is serving time in jail.”
“Really, what did he do?”
“A very long list of bad things, each worse than the last. Kent Springer’s a snake in the grass and shouldn’t be trusted. Don’t go near that place.” She took a breath before going on, “And you have enough gas to get to town. Ethan put five gallons of gas into your car early this morning. You’ll have to return the gas can to Wally’s service station it’s on the corner of Main and Beach Street, you can’t miss it.”
When Hayden’s jaw dropped open, Jordan added, “You left your car unlocked. Ethan just popped the gas cap and bingo.”
Left her car door unlocked? Sheesh, could she get any worse at this security thing. “He didn’t… He shouldn’
t have bothered.”
“That’s the thing. I think he felt bad about being so hard on you last night. Ethan’s a good guy but…”
“He’s a cop,” Hayden finished.
“That too, but he’s kind of―psychic.”
Hayden’s mouth dropped open again. “Get out.” “People say Ethan takes after his dad. His father is one of those people who helps law enforcement out every now and then, finds missing people, and uh―you know, dead bodies. Markus Cody has had some success at that. He has a fair rep up and down the West Coast from Washington State to Baja.”
“Wait a minute, I’ve heard of him. Markus Cody was the one who helped locate that little girl, the one who went missing from Eugene, Oregon, two years back.”
“That’s him.”
“He lives here?”
“Santa Cruz. Ethan’s brother, Brent, lives there too. Brent’s the county sheriff. Ethan lives… Gosh, I don’t know where exactly, somewhere near the pier, I think. But Pelican Pointe is part of his assigned patrol area. We see him around town all the time.”
“Great. I don’t think the deputy likes me very much.”
“I’ll be honest, Hayden, he thought you were running from something, someone.”
Hayden’s eyes went wide. “For chrissakes, am I that transparent?”
“Not to me. Are you in trouble?”
Hayden sighed, propped her chin on her fist and looked away, not meeting Jordan’s eyes.
Jordan wasn’t surprised. It wasn’t the first time Ethan Cody had nailed someone’s particular circumstance. “Okay. Here’s the deal. Everyone’s entitled to their secrets. Everyone has troubles.”
She thought of Nick and how he had come to her so unhappy. “Everyone’s entitled to privacy. But like I said, in my experience, most people could use a friend. You don’t owe me an explanation. Not until you want to talk about it, that is. But, I could be your friend if you need one. You have no reason to trust me, but if you want to talk…it sometimes helps.”
Hayden finally managed to squeak out, “It’s behind me now. I hope. I don’t want to talk about my problems though. You sound like you’ve had your fair share.” She couldn’t imagine that. This house, this place, seemed so perfect.
“If you stay, I’ll tell you about it some time,” Jordan promised.
Ethan Cody might be a sheriff’s deputy but it hadn’t been his first choice as a career. He’d wanted desperately to write.
As in, earn a living at it. From the time he was eight years old he remembered listening to his grandfather tell stories about the shamans and all the folklore from his Chumash heritage.
He’d been captivated enough to begin his writing career with his own one-page newsletter, reinventing the stories his grandfather told him before he’d moved on to events and activities in his own little Santa Cruz neighborhood. Sometimes he’d come up with fictional stories of his own enough to entertain the family and close friends until he landed an actual paper route at twelve.
In between playing junior high basketball and baseball in high school, he’d made good enough grades to get into community college where he’d taken every writing class they had offered. By the time he enrolled in UC Santa Cruz he had quite a few of his own manuscripts under his belt.
But after college graduation, bills had to be paid. During those years afterward, he’d knocked around playing lead guitar in a local band, something he still did on an occasional Saturday night at a little dive near the boardwalk in Santa Cruz, not far from the house where he’d grown up. He’d tended bar there, even worked as a waiter.
When his brother Brent had been elected sheriff four years ago, he’d offered Ethan a steady job. Because bills still had to be paid, Ethan had reluctantly taken the position, not because of his love for law enforcement or the vocation, but out of necessity.
Some days Ethan felt like he’d sold out, given up his quest without so much as a struggle. He hated to think about spending the rest of his life sitting on his ass in a patrol cruiser hauling drunks to the county jail.
But paying the rent couldn’t wait for a writing career to take off.
Even though he worked sometimes a sixty-hour work week, he still managed to dabble with his stories, murder mysteries mostly, a few espionage thrillers.
Once a month or so he’d send a few off to agents and those publishers who happen to still accept unsolicited manuscripts. After all this time, he still had yet to be published. But in his time off, he loved spending time reading other people’s work, reading other people’s books. And Ethan loved reading books almost as much as he loved to write.
But after so many years of rejection he had to admit the truth. Maybe he just didn’t have what it takes to be a writer.
As he made his rounds from San Sebastian down to Pelican Pointe, the way Ethan saw it he’d already done his good deed for the day. He’d brought gas out to the lady with the big green eyes, the one hoarding a secret, the one who couldn’t remember where she came from.
He never deliberately set out to use his ability. Unless someone gave him reasons to travel down that path. The vibes usually just poured out before he could put up a roadblock to stop them.
That’s how it had been the minute he’d locked eyes with Hayden. He’d gotten a serious reaction from the woman and not the kind that itched at his libido. He’d gotten that one of course. You couldn’t look at a woman with her body and that face, not to mention those long lanky legs, without getting a pull in that direction.
But even though the woman was a looker, it didn’t cancel out the fact that she remained shrouded in mystery, hiding some dangerous aspect about herself. She all but reeked with secrecy.
The two-week-old driver’s license and registration were a dead giveaway she was on the run from something. And even though he might not be in love with what he did for a living, he took his job seriously.
You couldn’t wear the uniform every day to work, strap on a .45, crawl into a police cruiser, and not. So when he’d seen ‘Miss-I-can’t-remember-where-I’m-from’ his law enforcement radar had gone off full tilt along with his second sense.
He might be a writer at heart, but being a cop paid the bills. And like most cops, he had trust issues, especially when it came to placing a certain amount of confidence in a total stranger, one that couldn’t remember where she hailed from.
So as long as Hayden Ryan stayed with Nick and Jordan he planned on keeping an eye on the woman. And if she did happen to end up over in Santa Cruz, he’d get his brother to do the same there as well.
Because of Jordan, Hayden stayed on another day.
She told herself it was because she wanted to check out the town, but it wasn’t true. At the reduced, off-season rate they were giving her, she figured she could afford one more day to indulge herself before she had to face Santa Cruz.
And Promise Cove was so lovely, her bed so comfy, her room so homey and cheery, it was the closest thing in months she’d found that reminded her of what she’d left behind in her own house, the one she’d so reluctantly placed on the market. It hadn’t sold yet and might not. The way the shaky real estate market was right now she had to prepare for the fact it could be six more months before the agent found a buyer. And when it did sell, all the details and paperwork would be handled by her sister, Sydney, who now had power of attorney for Emile Reed.
There was no denying her life right now was a complicated mess.
And it shouldn’t have been. She hadn’t been the one to swindle and defraud thousands of people out of billions of dollars. Yet because of someone else’s greed her life had infinitely changed for the worse.
Hayden had to admit she certainly hadn’t found a motel since she’d gone on the lam that offered the same type of amenities Promise Cove did. Where else could she chow down on Jordan’s home-cooked cuisine, dry off wrapped in luxuriant Egyptian cotton towels, and sleep burrowed into twelve-hundred-thread-count sheets?
She really didn’t want to think about leaving just yet
.
Around ten-thirty, telling Jordan she wanted to wander around town, she set off for Pelican Pointe with directions from the pretty innkeeper. She enjoyed the twenty-minute scenic drive, as she gawked at the wooded landscape, the chunks of wildflowers along the way, and the fields of plumping ripe strawberries growing next to the road. All kinds of towering trees grew in the area, junipers, oaks, noble firs, and Douglas. Christmas trees maybe? Hayden wondered, as she spotted the mountains to the east in the distance.
When she passed the city limits sign she thought Pelican Pointe looked like any typical small town along the coast. Ancient trees lined Main Street as did neatly trimmed houses that mingled with the business district.
There was the Snip ’N Curl, the First Bank of Pelican Pointe, Murphy’s Market, Knudsen’s Pharmacy, and Drea’s Flowers, which looked as if the woman named Lilly had been busy creating a brand-new, hand painted sign that hung smartly from the overhang.
Unlike the one over the Hilltop Diner, which looked like the design hadn’t changed since the sixties. Then there was Ferguson’s Hardware, Springer Real Estate and finally, Wally’s Pump-N-Go.
She pulled up to fill the tank with gas and return the gas can. An old-fashioned ding announced her presence. She opened the door to crawl out, but before she’d taken two steps, a gangly man came out of the garage area, wiping his hands on a red rag. He wore his sandy-blond hair long, and pulled back in a squat ponytail. With a wave of his hand he offered, “I’ll do it. Pop the gas cap for me, wouldya? Don’t worry, there’s no price difference.”
In one smooth motion, he tugged on the pump, twisted off the cap to the tank, and stuck in the nozzle. “Nice car. I don’t see many of these. Does it get as good a gas mileage as they claim?”
“It does. I drove almost four hundred miles yesterday without having to fill up.”
He whistled. “Impressive. So you’ve put some miles on her lately, huh? I’ll check the tire pressure for you then and the oil just to be on the safe side.” Wally couldn’t help but note the woman’s Nevada plates. What they had here was an out-of-towner, he realized.
Pelican Pointe Boxed Set Books 1 - 3 (A Pelican Pointe Novel) Page 34