Pelican Pointe Boxed Set Books 1 - 3 (A Pelican Pointe Novel)

by Vickie McKeehan

  Newlyweds, thought Hayden, as she cleared her throat, slid off the stool and started for the back door. “Do I need a key?”

  When the couple came up for air, it was Jordan who answered. “Door’s unlocked. It’s across the courtyard. Take the stairs up.”

  When Hayden had gone, Jordan looked up at her husband’s lake-blue eyes and said with concern, “She’s in trouble, Nick.”

  “Yeah, I figured as much.”

  Hayden followed a walkway through the flower-filled outdoor quad and up a set of stairs next to the garage. As soon as she opened the door, the smell of lemon polish hit her along with the scent of the sea. A bank of windows on the ocean side had been left open to let in the breeze, as a result newly hung curtains fluttered in the air.

  The old hardwood floor gleamed in the sunlight that drifted in from another pair of windows flanking each side of the bed. The one-room studio was bright with plenty of natural light but had very little furniture. An ancient, sagging green sofa divided the living area from the bedroom space. The old, urn top Maplewood was covered with a goose down comforter, a set of over-sized, plump pillows along with crisp white sheets. At the foot of the bed sat an antique blanket box for extra storage. She looked around for a closet and realized a 1920s era armoire in the corner substituted for a place to hang clothes.

  She poked her head into the bathroom. There was a shower stall, but no tub. No problem, she could work with that as long as the water got hot. A small polished mahogany table next to the shower held a stack of fluffy, white towels.

  One of those soft, thick hotel robes hung on a wall peg by the glass door.

  The tiny kitchenette took up one wall and consisted of a two-burner stovetop, a twelve-inch sampling of counter with a stingy overhead cabinet, the only place to store groceries, and a built-in under-the-counter mini fridge.

  Parked underneath the bank of windows was a white three-piece wrought iron table set with two matching chairs with bright green cushioned seats.

  Hayden peered inside the little refrigerator, found a miniature bottle of wine chilling along with several little packages of cheese wedges. Tears wet her eyes again. She shook her head. These people were incredible. They didn’t know her from Adam and yet had shown her nothing but kindness since she had walked through their front door. For all they knew she could be a grifter looking for easy marks.

  She wasn’t sure what to think. The cynic in her, created by a con man named Jeremy Dochenko, couldn’t help but wonder if they had some kind of an angle she might be missing. Were they trying to convert her to some weird cult while they waited for their spaceship to trail after the next great comet?

  But the pre-Jeremy, Emile Reed, who’d been raised in the Midwest by honest, hardworking people, thought Hayden Ryan might have hit the mother lode when Ethan Cody had plucked her from the side of the road and led her here to Promise Cove and to Nick and Jordan’s front door.

  Over dinner, the talk was all about Hayden’s new digs. “So when can I move in?” She asked as excited as any ten-year-old would before walking through the gates at Disneyland.

  Jordan looked over at Nick affectionately. “I sure don’t remember you being this excited about living in that old place.”

  “At the time I just wanted to be close to you.” He grinned, wiggling his eyebrows up and down. “And it worked too. I’d have slept in a tent just to be here,” he said warmly. “And I never once complained.”

  “Aww, you romantic.”

  “Uh, guys? Could we focus here?”

  “Sorry,” Jordan said. “We have a hard time keeping our hands off each other.”

  “So I’ve noticed.”

  “You could move in tonight if you want. I know you said you didn’t cook but if you want to boil water for tea, we’ll have to replace that old stovetop. That thing hasn’t worked since the eighties. Otherwise, I’m sure there’s an extra microwave somewhere out there in that stuffed-to-the-gills garage we brought with us from the Bay. A microwave will come in handy until we can switch out the range. And I have an extra coffeemaker you can use.”

  “Thanks. And the rent?”

  Nick tossed out a ridiculously low number. “A night?”

  “A month,” Nick confirmed. “I stayed there rent-free as I recall, got meals thrown in, as a matter of fact. At the time, I might have felt like I’d lived in better, but I found it comfortable. And Jordan has it fixed up nice, even brought up a little table and chairs we found in the garage. There’s also an old TV I found in the garage. No matter what I tried I couldn’t get anything but snowy reception, so I hooked it up with a DVD player. Feel free to watch as many movies as we have in our inventory. Like I said before, the bed’s not bad, although it’s not as good as the one I’m in now.” He paused long enough to wink in his wife’s direction then take her hand in his, place a kiss on the palm. “The ghost, however, is free.”

  “Now, Nick,” Jordan admonished, when she saw Hayden’s eyes go wide. “He’s kidding.”

  “She says that now,” Nick said casually. “After the fact…I still see him sometimes when I’m digging around in the garage or mowing the grass or when I’m down at the cove. Hayden might not be able to see him.”

  Okay, now Hayden was just plain curious. “A ghost? For real? Who?”

  Jordan sighed. “Scott Phillips. My first husband. He died in Iraq. He was Nick’s best friend. This was his childhood home. It’s so strange how Nick sees him walking around the grounds, or down at the cove, or walking along the path in the courtyard.” She shook her head. “Scott never shows himself to me. Maybe he’s mad at me or something for falling head over heels in love with his best friend.”

  Jordan tilted her head in Nick’s direction. “But somehow, I don’t think that’s why. I lived here for a year after he died and not once during that time did Scott ever manifest, or whatever, to me.”

  Although Hayden liked to think she kept an open mind about most things, ghosts were one of those gray areas she’d never actually considered existed. “But…that’s…”

  “Crazy?” Nick offered. “Yeah. Maybe. But I know what I see. I thought maybe after everything had settled down, after everything we’d been through, after Jordan and I got married, he’d leave me alone. But… I used to think I was nuts. Now I think it’s just Scott’s way of telling me he’s here to protect the place he loves so much, maybe oversee things, keep an eye on things.”

  “So Hutton is…” She glanced over at the little girl with blonde hair sitting in her booster chair practicing scooping up macaroni and cheese with a spoon.

  “Scott’s,” Jordan said, glancing lovingly at her daughter. “But Nick is in the process of adopting her. And we’re trying to have a baby.”

  “Every chance we get,” Nick added without a trace of self-consciousness.

  “Well,” Hayden said, not knowing what else to say to that. She changed the subject. “That price is incredibly low… for the apartment, I mean. Are you certain?”

  “It’s a room over a garage, Hayden. Not the Taj Mahal,” Jordan pointed out.

  “But it’s a roof over my head when I really need it and is incredibly generous. Not to mention perfect for me right now. You couldn’t possibly know how grateful I am. To both of you.”

  “And just so you know,” Nick assured, “we have no plans to check your references or your rental history.”

  Hayden nibbled at her lip to keep from misting over again. She had to say something to these people to reassure them she didn’t have a checkered past. “I just don’t believe you guys. I won’t let you down. I’m not a risk. I don’t do drugs or abuse alcohol. I’m not a grifter looking for an easy mark no matter how suspicious Deputy Cody is. I’m not running from the law. I own my car out there. I don’t have a lot of money, but then I don’t have a lot of bills.” She’d paid them all off with her savings before she’d changed her name. Kate had helped her take care of all the details when she’d spent time with her friend in Nebraska.

  “Gla
d to hear that,” Nick said, smiling.

  “Uh, I looked around town…made a list of all those empty storefronts along with all the things Pelican Pointe doesn’t have. There’s no coffee shop in town, or bakery. Nor is there a bookstore, a gym, or a day care center.”

  Nick looked at Jordan. “Well, I don’t know how Jordan feels but I think a coffee shop wouldn’t work because the Hilltop would be stiff competition. And Murphy sells coffee to-go, too. Most people buy theirs at Murphy’s though. Same with baked goods. Margie bakes her own pastries, pies, that sort of thing. And they’re pretty good. I think she buys her donuts from the Costco over in Santa Cruz though.”

  Jordan nodded. “Margie doesn’t make her own donuts. I know the Methodist church has a day care program for working moms. Lilly uses it whenever things get crazy at the service station. But when she’s working here she usually brings the kids with her. I’m not sure the church has enough of an overflow that a day care center would make it. But we could check it out. As for the gym…”

  “There isn’t a big following around here for people who want to work out, at least not at a gym,” Nick finished. “The locals jog, surf, hike or have some other kind of workout routine on their own. A gym, down the road, might make a good investment but I don’t see it happening now.”

  “But a bookstore might be a viable option.” Jordan thought for a moment. “That might be an idea worth following up on.”

  “Pelican Pointe doesn’t even have a library,” Hayden pointed out.

  Nick nodded. “A bookstore is a better bet.”

  “I was thinking a used bookstore,” Hayden continued. “Nothing fancy at first, maybe a small area in front where people could sit and read, a couple of comfy chairs, something we might pick up at the thrift shop, or a little overstuffed loveseat maybe, where customers could drink a cup of coffee, work on their laptops, that sort of thing. We wouldn’t need a retail counter when an old desk might work just as well, and again, we could find that at a thrift store for next to nothing.”

  “You know, I’ve got a ton of used books. And there are some shelves in the garage we could use. What do you think, Nick?”

  He considered the pros and cons as he realized he’d collected quite a bit of books himself over the years that he kept in storage with all his other stuff he’d brought with him from L.A. when he’d married Jordan.

  “It would depend on what kind of lease you could get, for say, no more than six hundred square feet. That might sound small, but you wouldn’t feel so overwhelmed like you might if you had to fill up a larger size space. Six-hundred square feet is large enough to hold books from floor to, let’s say, mid-ceiling, without biting off a huge chunk of space you’d have to struggle to fill up with inventory right away. Think about how tough it would be to fill up six hundred square feet of books, think how many books would fit in a space that size. Books don’t take up that much room. Your displays might, and the sitting area you suggested might, but depending on the storefront, you could use the windows for display.”

  “You’re right, start off small, work up. I like that. How many books do you think you two have?”

  “A lot. Maybe not enough to fill up six-hundred square feet, but a start anyway.”

  “I’d say between the books Jordan has and mine we have enough to get you going. I could put the lease in my name for now.”

  Okay, that was the last straw. More and more, Hayden found she couldn’t lie to these people. She shook her head. “Look guys, you’ve been so nice there’s something I should probably tell you.”

  “Okay, shoot,” Nick said mildly.

  “My condo’s up for sale in another state. It’s taking longer to sell in this bad economy than I’d hoped. But when it sells, I’ll have some money to put down on a place to live and maybe start that business, which was a good idea you had, Jordan. It’s just that, I’ve had expenses lately and that’s why I’m running a tad short.

  “But the money from the Diner will help, even though it’s less than thirty hours a week, I’ll keep looking for another part-time position to make up for it. I could also help you out here when you need an extra pair of hands.”

  Hayden held up a staying hand. “You wouldn’t need to pay me. I don’t fluff off and I’m a hard worker. I haven’t taken a vacation since college. I’m dependable. That’s all I can tell you right now―about myself, about my past. If I could tell you more―I would. But no way do I want you to think I’m a deadbeat or a freeloader, or that I’m running from the law.”

  She looked first at Jordan and then at Nick, hopeful, trying to determine if they were disappointed or upset with her because she wouldn’t divulge more.

  It was Nick who asked, “Just tell me one thing, Hayden. Are you in danger? Is someone out there trying to hurt you?” Nick could see her swallow hard as if trying to gauge whether or not she should admit it.

  When her eyes dropped to her lap and she didn’t look back up, Nick had his answer. His first thought was that she was hiding out from an abusive relationship.

  “Okay, you don’t want to say, I get that. But promise me one thing. I’ve got Jordan and Hutton to think about, their safety, their security, you understand? I won’t ask for references but you have to promise me to keep us in the loop. If it looks like there’s any chance that this person might find you, whoever’s out there, you have to be honest with me and give me a heads-up.”

  Hayden went white, the idea had her panic-stricken. This time she met his eyes. “Oh. God. Maybe I should move on. I didn’t think about endangering anyone else by just being around other people. My plan is to keep a low profile. Or try to.”

  Nick rubbed his chin. “Unfortunately in this age of technology, a low profile isn’t always enough.”

  Chapter 3 Book 2

  It didn’t take long for Hayden to unpack the meager clothes she’d picked up along the way. She owned two pairs of jeans, one skinny, one Capri, a couple of tops, a silky white pocket shirt she’d worn with her interview suit, a berry-colored cashmere turtleneck, a green hoodie, the midnight-blue wool dress Katie had given her, the charcoal-gray suit jacket and matching pencil skirt she’d had on the night the beast had attacked her in the parking garage, and four pairs of shoes.

  Good thing she’d worn her prized pair of Jimmy Choo, peep-toe heels to the interview that day, otherwise she wouldn’t even have those, she thought miserably, as she set them inside the armoire next to her canvas sneakers, ancient hiking boots, and a pair of wedge sandals she’d picked up on sale at a shoe store in Missouri.

  Now that she thought about it, maybe it was a good thing she had to wear a uniform to work every day because her wardrobe, limited as it was, couldn’t handle a five-day challenge.

  Looking at how out of place the black Jimmy Choo’s were next to her other thrift store finds, she did her best to come up with a place in Pelican Pointe she could wear the heels. She decided it didn’t matter. Those days of obsessing over footwear were over. She had other more pressing things to deal with than the best place to show off five-hundred-dollar pumps.

  Her first night in her little studio apartment she didn’t intend to spend dwelling on what she didn’t have, but rather what she did. Thanks to Nick and Jordan Harris she had a place to live and it wasn’t the backseat of her car.

  When she spotted the stash of DVDs stacked in the little cabinet next to the old vacuumed-tube TV set, she decided to plant herself on the sagging green sofa and veg in her new space.

  She flipped through the selections until she found one she liked, opened the plastic, and popped in the shiny disc. She couldn’t go wrong with the musical, Mamma Mia. It offered plenty of lively songs and starred three hunks, Pierce Brosnan, Colin Firth, and Stellan Skarsgard. They didn’t know it yet, but they were about to spend the night with her in little Podunk Pelican Pointe―singing and dancing their way through Abba’s greatest hits.

  What better way to christen her new digs than spending it with three hot celebs when you couldn’t
have the real thing? She settled back on the sofa, suddenly craving salty, buttered popcorn, pistachio gelato, and dark Belgian chocolate.

  First thing the next morning Hayden drove into Pelican Pointe and picked up the uniform from Margie.

  It wasn’t the solution to her wardrobe problem she’d hoped it would be. The dress wasn’t just pink, it was an ugly polyester thing with a wide, white, V-collar and a huge old-fashioned fake apron attached to the waist.

  Not only did it look more like a Halloween costume than an actual uniform, it had some horrible stains spattered here and there, back and front. It looked like something Alice had worn at Mel’s Diner and forgotten to wash decades earlier.

  And luckily for Hayden, it was three sizes too large and didn’t even reach her knees.

  Margie wasn’t sure what to do. “You could alter it,” she suggested optimistically. “But then what if you don’t work out? Maybe you could wear it with a belt or something.”

  Not in a million years, thought Hayden. “But I doubt I could alter it before my shift starts at four o’clock,” she pointed out tactfully.

  “Hmm, well, we’ve always worn pink here before. It’s tradition, kind of like a 1950s thing. I don’t have another one.”

  Thank God for small favors, thought Hayden. “I’ll come up with something close, I promise,” Hayden assured her, as she turned to leave, stuffing the pink thing down in her bag, hoping it didn’t contaminate the contents.

  “I’ve got a million errands to get done before work though. See you this afternoon.” She didn’t wait for Margie to approve or disapprove or add anything, she simply took off like a shot out the front door of the Diner and out onto the sidewalk on Main.

  At a fast clip she walked down to Murphy’s, the only place in town to buy groceries, hoping to pick up some food to stock in her little fridge and a few frozen meals she could heat up in her microwave, the one Nick had managed to dig out of an incredibly packed garage.