“It’s not under the bed. Or in any of my pockets.” Mr. Rapp stood with his arms crossed, staring at Jamie. Jamie had set the load of bags down at the foot of the stairs, but remained there, looking afraid to go any closer.
Claire walked out of the kitchen and stood beside him, though she wasn’t sure he even noticed her there.
“We’ll check the room again. I’m sure we can find it,” Liza said in a calmer tone.
Mr. Rapp looked reluctant but finally nodded. “All right, see for yourself. But I tell you I’ve already looked high and low. He was the only person who went into the room this morning, besides me and my wife,” he added, looking straight at Jamie. “We were going down to breakfast. He came to the door and said he needed to fix the ceiling fan. I know the watch was in the room when he came in. I just realized a few minutes ago I didn’t have it on. I looked on the nightstand—and now it’s gone.”
Claire saw Liza take a deep breath. “We’ll look again. It will only take a few minutes. Claire, can you get the Rapps some more coffee while they wait?”
“I’ve had enough coffee, thank you.” Mr. Rapp’s tone was sharp. “I’ve had enough of everything around here.”
His wife walked up to him and said something quietly then led him out to the porch where they sat down at the very end of the row of wicker chairs.
Claire felt bad for everyone. It was understandable that he was so upset, losing such a valuable piece of jewelry. But it wasn’t right of him to accuse Jamie the way he had. She did believe the watch was misplaced and they would soon find it.
She went upstairs to see if she could help in the search. Liza and Jamie had already pulled the night table and bed away from the wall. Liza was on her hands and knees, looking under the bed with a flashlight.
“Do you need any help?” Claire asked from the doorway.
Jamie turned to look at her. She couldn’t tell what he was feeling. If anything, he looked a little angry. Of course he would be. No one liked to be so unfairly accused.
“That’s all right, Claire. We can handle this. You should stay downstairs and take care of anyone who wants to check out.”
“I’ll do that. Don’t worry.” Claire took a few steps then turned in the doorway. “I’m sure you’ll find the watch. I’m sure Mr. Rapp just misplaced it.”
Jamie was pushing a heavy six-drawer chest aside, his expression grim as he put his back into the task. He paused and looked over at her. “Thanks, Claire. I don’t get it. He seemed like such a nice guy. But now he’s like . . . wacky.”
Claire nodded. Not the way she would have described the situation, but he did have a point.
* * *
DOWNSTAIRS, Claire took care of the guests who remained while silently saying a prayer that the watch would be found. At least twenty minutes passed before Liza and Jamie returned from their search. Claire could tell from their expressions that they had not found the watch.
“Where are the Rapps?” Liza whispered to Claire.
“Out on the porch,” Claire answered. “Mrs. Rapp is reading the newspaper, and Mr. Rapp is just pacing back and forth.”
Liza went outside while Jamie stayed with Claire in the foyer. “We didn’t find it,” he reported. “I bet it’s in one of his pockets. Or his suitcase or something.”
“Perhaps,” Claire agreed. She had noticed the Rapps going through their suitcases, backpack, and even Mrs. Rapp’s purse while they waited for Liza to return. But maybe the watch had not been on the nightstand as Mr. Rapp recalled. If so, it could be anywhere. It could have fallen off while he was out yesterday on the beach or bird-watching. They might never find it.
Claire felt a sense of dread, pulling at her like weight. She wondered what would happen next.
More guests came down, and Jamie carried more luggage out to their cars. Claire followed, curious.
“I’d be happy to reimburse you, Mr. Rapp,” she heard Liza offer. “But I need to file a claim with my insurance company first. It will take a little time. Do you have a receipt for the watch at home? That will probably be needed.”
“I’m sure I saved it,” Mrs. Rapp said.
“Yes, you’ll need a receipt, and a police report would probably help, too.” Mr. Rapp’s tone was far less conciliatory than his wife’s.
“A police report? I don’t think that’s necessary.” Liza sounded alarmed, and Claire felt the same way.
“Too late then. I’ve already called. I would tell you what time that was, but I don’t have a watch,” he added sharply.
Mrs. Rapp sighed. “About ten minutes ago,” she said quietly. “I didn’t think it was necessary either.”
“Let them come. When a uniformed officer asks that boy a few questions, I’m sure my watch will magically appear. At least he’s had no time to get rid of it.”
Claire felt her heart pound in her chest. The police were coming? To question Jamie? That sounded so unfair. So extreme.
She was about to speak up in Jamie’s defense when Liza glanced her way and gently shook her head, sending a Don’t worry, I’ll handle this message.
“I think it’s unfair to single Jamie out with no proof, Mr. Rapp,” Liza said firmly. “But if the police want to ask him questions, I’m sure he’ll cooperate. He has nothing to hide.”
Claire breathed a sigh of relief. At least Liza believed Jamie was innocent. That was something.
“We’ll see . . . Here they are now. Sooner than I thought.”
A white-and-blue police car pulled up the drive to the inn.
Claire recognized Tucker Tully at the wheel, familiar in his uniform.
He got out and came up onto the porch steps. “Liza, Claire.” He nodded quickly in greeting. “Someone here reported missing property?”
“Stolen property,” Mr. Rapp quickly corrected him. “A very expensive watch, stolen out of our room this morning.”
Tucker took a pad out of his back pocket. “All right, let me take down some information, sir. Your name, please . . .”
Tucker talked with the Rapps a few minutes at the end of the porch and made notes. Jamie had finished loading the suitcases and came up onto the porch.
“The police are here?” He looked nervous and scared, Claire thought. But that was only natural if you were being accused of such a thing.
Liza rested her hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Jamie. The officer is just trying to sort this out. He’s going to ask you a few questions. He’s going to ask me questions, too. And even Claire.”
That was true, Claire realized. The explanation should have made Jamie feel better, but he didn’t look much calmer. He just stared down at his shoes.
Tucker soon walked over to them, Mr. Rapp trailing him.
“Mr. Rapp says the room has been searched twice, and he’s looked through all his baggage for it and in his car,” he said to Liza. “Have you looked around the rest of the inn?”
Liza shook her head. “We haven’t had the time yet. But we definitely should,” she added. “You never know.”
“That’s right. Something is lost because it’s not where you thought it should be, so you have to look in unlikely places for it,” Claire said. She had a feeling her circuitous reasoning was not very convincing, but it was true. You rarely find something you’ve lost in a place you expected it to be. Or it wouldn’t be lost.
Tucker turned to Jamie. “You’re Jamie, right?”
Jamie nodded. “That’s me.”
“This guest says you came into his room this morning to fix the ceiling fan. Did you see a watch on the nightstand?”
Jamie thought a moment. “I don’t know . . . I wasn’t really looking around the room. I was just there for the fan, wondering if I’d be able to figure out why it wasn’t working.”
“He’s lying.” Mr. Rapp suddenly stepped forwa
rd. “I know he liked the watch. He had his eye on it. He complimented me when we were here in June, and I was showing him all the gadgets and features. He was quite impressed.”
“I’m not lying. I didn’t lift your watch,” Jamie shouted back. “Maybe you dropped it down at the beach or running around in the woods, chasing birds,” he added angrily. “Now you’re trying to find someone to blame it on.”
“Now, now, simmer down, pal.” Tucker pressed a hand to Jamie’s shoulder. “We’re not going to get anywhere arguing over this. Liza, I think you should keep searching the inn. The Rapps can come down to the police station if they want and file a report.”
“That’s all? That’s all you can do is file a report? The thief is standing right here, right under your nose, Officer,” Mr. Rapp insisted.
Claire swallowed hard. Now she really had to speak up. “You can’t call Jamie a thief. That’s not right. You have absolutely no proof.”
“Claire has a point,” Tucker said before anyone else could speak. “You need some physical evidence or a witness to bring charges against somebody. Once we file a report, we can figure out if there’s sufficient evidence to follow up with legal action.”
Mrs. Rapp tugged on her husband’s sleeve. “Let’s just go home. I’ll call the insurance company from the car. I’m sure we have coverage for this.”
“That’s not the point. I want to make a report, Officer. I want you to ask that young man more questions.”
“You can follow me to the station. It’s on your way out of town,” Tucker replied, ignoring Mr. Rapp’s final demand. “I’ll send you a copy of the report, Liza. I might have more questions. I’ll be in touch.” He looked directly at Jamie. Claire felt a chill.
The Rapps followed the police car out of the drive and disappeared down the road.
Liza, Claire, and Jamie went back inside. Most of the guests had checked out. Others had gone out to enjoy the beautiful weather—off to the beach or bike riding.
Jamie looked at Claire and Liza. “What should I do now? Do you want to look around more?”
Liza nodded. “I think we should. At least we can tell the Rapps—and the insurance company—that we did a thorough search.” She reached out and touched Jamie’s arm. “Don’t worry, Jamie. Even if we don’t find it, it was very wrong of Mr. Rapp to accuse you that way without any proof.”
“Tucker knows that, too,” Claire assured him. “Come on, let’s look around the first floor. Let’s each take a room,” she proposed. “We might find it.”
The three split up. Liza took the front parlor, Jamie took the sitting room, and Claire took the dining room and patio. She already knew the watch wasn’t in the kitchen, though she planned to check again, just in case.
Her thoughts wandered wildly while she searched. She didn’t want to think of what might happen if somehow Mr. Rapp convinced Tucker, or some other law officer, to pursue this. What if he made something up? He seemed so determined to find Jamie guilty; he might resort to such a thing.
If Jamie was found guilty of stealing the watch, he would probably have to spend time in jail. She knew that he’d been in trouble with the law before, as a kid. But he had been so young, he had always gotten off fairly easily.
It wouldn’t be so simple this time, now that he was an adult. Even a few months in jail would be dreadful, a black mark on his life that he might never recover from. Just when he was getting some momentum in a positive direction. It didn’t seem fair.
* * *
BRUNCH at the Peregrine—especially the Baked Apple French Toast, one of Avery’s recent creations—was the highlight of a rave review that had appeared in a Newburyport newspaper the past week. So many customers showed up at noon on Sunday that a line formed out the door. While Gena took pictures with her cell phone, Avery wondered how to keep her potential patrons from losing patience and walking off. But Teresa calmly sent Brittany out with a tray of cold drinks and mini-quiches, which kept the customers calm and tantalized.
Later that afternoon, Avery was in an upbeat mood as she prepped for dinner. She thought about sending Mike the photo of the customer line, with a silly caption like, “Miracles happen!” Then dismissed the notion. She wanted him to see that the Peregrine was doing well, but she didn’t want him to think she was gloating.
She hadn’t seen him much on the boardwalk the last few days and suspected the Tuna was very busy as the summer wound down, even more than her café. The tour group had marched by the other day, as scheduled, but an older gentleman with silver hair and a handlebar mustache had led the parade. The vivacious Cindy was nowhere in sight.
Avery thought that was a good sign. She decided she had read too much into seeing Mike and Cindy together. She had let it scare her off too easily. What she really needed to do was march down to the Tuna herself and take Mike up on her rain check for that sailing date—any kind of date. He probably thought she wasn’t interested. She wasn’t sure how that had happened, but she felt ready now to make it clear that she was interested in seeing where their relationship could go. Very interested.
As Avery mulled this over, Gena pushed open the door that led to the dining room. “Someone’s here to see you, Avery.”
Avery looked up from the red pepper she had been chopping. Was it Mike? She hoped so. Maybe her thoughts had summoned him.
But before she could even smooth down her hair, someone peeked over Gena’s shoulder and smiled. Her heart fell. It wasn’t Mike, not even close.
“There she is, chopping away. Making the magic happen,” her visitor called out.
Avery felt a knot in her stomach. She couldn’t hide her surprise and didn’t even try. “Paul. What are you doing here?”
Her ex-fiancé’s dazzling smile grew wider, his blue eyes shining. He stepped past Gena and sailed through the doorway. “You look terrific, Avery. The sea air really agrees with you. And this place is beautiful. It’s awesome. Honestly.”
Avery quickly wiped her hands on a towel and pushed the chopping block aside. Paul was here. Could that possibly be?
She had been working hard all day and suspected she looked terrible, but suddenly realized she didn’t really care.
He walked over to the worktable and smiled down at her. “I know I should have called first, but I just stopped by on a whim.
“I was on my way back to the city from Bar Harbor. I wasn’t even sure I would find this place. It’s barely on the map,” he joked. When Avery didn’t answer he added, “Your sister told me you set up shop out here.”
“Right. She told me she ran into you. Too bad about the Tulip. I was sorry to hear that,” she said sincerely.
“Yeah, we had some good times at the Tulip, didn’t we? But what can you do? That’s the way this business is, up one minute, down the next. How are you doing out here? It’s a little off the beaten track, wouldn’t you say?”
His tone was half teasing, half mocking. Or maybe she was just extra-sensitive to his opinion. She always had been . . . for no good reason, she realized now. Paul seemed different to her, diminished somehow. He even looked . . . shorter. Could that be because Mike was so tall? She had always thought so well of Paul, maybe just because he thought so well of himself? He was, as always, perfectly dressed, in a black T-shirt and khaki shorts and expensive sunglasses that gave him the “celeb on vacation” look.
“We’re doing very well,” she told him. “It took a few weeks, but when you have good food, people find you.”
“You’re a fabulous cook, no question about that.”
“Thanks,” she said stiffly. “So, really, why are you here?”
He shrugged. “I just wanted to say hi, make sure you’re all right. I’ve been thinking about you,” he added. “Are you doing okay, Avery? Really?”
Avery blinked, unable to believe he had asked that. He certainly hadn’t been so concerned about
her welfare when he dumped her.
“I’m better than ever, Paul,” she said honestly. “What did you think happened to me after we broke up? Did you think I was hiding away in my apartment—alone with a bunch of cats?”
He laughed nervously. “I never thought that. You were always more of a dog person.” His thin joke fell flat. “I can see you haven’t been pining away over me. I didn’t mean that. I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for way things turned out between us. The way you left the business . . . When I heard you started this place . . . well, I just wondered if you were managing all right on your own. It’s hard to do it all, Avery. The staff, the books, the permits, the insurance. I think I owe it to you to offer some help, some support. That’s all.”
Help, from him? Was he serious? He was the last person on earth she would allow to help her. An image of Mike flashed into her mind. She had let Mike help her and didn’t regret that for a second—maybe because when Mike offered help it was genuine; he was never trying to manipulate her. Paul and Mike were night and day, and Avery knew now that she preferred the daylight.
“You’ve always hated bookkeeping,” Paul reminded her. “I remember that much,” he added in a teasing tone.
Avery suddenly understood Paul was trying to weasel his way into her life again—and into her new business.
Handsome, smooth-talking Paul, who was used to being able to charm anyone, was down on his luck and out of work. Despite the Peregrine’s rocky start, she was the one who was doing better now, and he was hoping she would throw him a lifeline—though, of course, he was so arrogant that he tried to sound as if he were the one doing her a favor.
Avery felt a little sorry for Paul. But that was all she felt. The hurt and even the anger were gone. She had finally gotten over him and was more than ready to turn the page. And that, she suspected, had a lot to do with Mike Rossi.
“I’m sorry, Paul, but I don’t need help. The Peregrine is doing just fine.” She shrugged. “I think it all worked out for the best.”
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