by Lindsey Hart
“Well don’t keep me waiting, child. My heart can’t take suspense like that any longer.”
Subtlety was never Maren Hartwick’s strong suit. She snorted. “You’re as fit as you were in your twenties. You could outrun me every morning, that’s for sure.”
“Because you don’t even try.”
“Because I hate it.”
“Practice makes perfect.”
“Anyway, back to what I said about the reservation. It was for Owen Carter.” She gave it a moment for her news to sink in.
“Owen Carter? What could he possibly want here in Monterey? Everyone here knows that Chelsea is long gone. Never did come back once she had him wrapped around her finger. That girl was trouble, always was.”
“There’s a difference between trouble and troubled,” Maren softly corrected.
“You’re a saint, Maren. That’s your problem.”
“Hardly. You’re just too nice.”
“My Harold would say different, god rest him.”
“Nonsense.” Maren waved her hand in the air, dispelling steam from the piping hot cup of tea in front of her. “You were my grandma’s best friend and she was the best woman I knew. She wouldn’t have picked you if you weren’t special.” Cue the tears. Both women choked up, reached up and dabbed at the corners of their eyes. Hettie offered a shaky, watery smile that Maren returned.
“I miss her. Every single day. You’re right. Everyone who ever met her would say she had the kindest soul. She’d let people stay the night at the bed and breakfast, even if they couldn’t pay, just because they needed a place to go.”
“She raised me, no questions asked. Some people might have been bitter or daunted when a child gets dumped on their doorstep, but she never was. At least, she never let me think so. That was the thing, she was always fearless, always happy, always the brightest light in the room.” Maren had to stop before the tears started again.
Hettie turned misty eyes her way. “She always knew Tiffany would give her trouble. She was always so worried about her. We talked about it all the time. When she took off after having you, it wasn’t a surprise. Monterey never was big enough to hold her.”
“I know grandma missed her.”
“Of course. She was her only daughter. But she loved you, honey. More than the entire world. When you said you wanted to stay and take over the bed and breakfast, you put her heart at ease. She knew it was in good hands when she left it to you and now look at it! No one would even recognize the old Raven’s Gem.”
Maren’s throat closed up. Her heart beat double time in her chest. “That’s actually what I came to talk about this morning. You know I borrowed money from the bank.” Her hands started to shake so she hid them under the tabletop.
“Of course. You couldn’t have restored the entire thing without a loan.”
“Yes- well- er- business hasn’t been so good. The loan’s interest is really high…”
“No, Maren…” Hettie’s use of her first name set off alarm bells. She never called her that. It was dear or honey or sweetie or child. Never Maren.
“I’m sorry, I’ve done all I can. Advertising. Working with different agencies. Half price sites and other promotions. I’ve gone everywhere, trying to figure out how to extend the loan or borrow more money to pay it down, at a lower interest rate. I’ve done everything I can…”
“So, you’re going to put her up for sale. The Raven’s Gem has been in your family for four generations. Your grandma’s father built it from the ground up.”
Maren gritted her teeth so hard it actually sounded like she was chewing on rocks. “I know, Hettie, but there isn’t anything else I can do about it. I’ve tried. I’ve tried for two years. I’ve hung on, but you can’t squeeze blood from a stone, no matter how hard you try. I either need a partner willing to invest a significant amount of money, or I need to sell.”
The warm, cheery, yellow kitchen fell silent. The lace curtains at the windows fluttered in the breeze. In Monterey, there was always a breeze and that term was kind. The tang of salt was heavy in the air, as it usually was in the early morning and late afternoon. Maren knew if she got up and looked out the window, she’d overlook the gentle waters of Monterey Bay and beyond that, the Pacific Ocean. It was the same view from her own kitchen window.
“Please, say something,” Maren begged. “I know how disappointed you are.”
Hettie reached forward and gripped the handle of her teacup. The china was dainty, white with little pink roses printed around the edges and another larger one inside the cup. The saucer below was mismatched. It had purple violas or pansies. Maren couldn’t actually be sure what the artist was trying to depict. They were scratched and faded, chipped, showing the wear and effects of time. She’d been drinking tea out of those saucers in Hettie’s kitchen since she was a little girl and her grandmother, Jane, brought her along on her afternoon visits. Hettie was practically a second grandmother. She knew the old woman was lonely, her children having long moved away. They only came for Christmas, sometimes not even then. Hettie had been a widow for nearly ten years.
“Sometimes I can’t believe it’s been seven years now that Jane’s been gone.” Hettie breathed out a forlorn sigh that wreaked havoc on Maren’s tender heart.
“I know.”
The silence resumed, louder than a roar. Maren filled her lungs with the crisp, fresh scent of the air drifting through the open window. She watched the lace curtains flutter up and down, up and down, before they stilled mysteriously for a moment, then again, moved once more.
“I… I have an idea.” Hettie slammed down her teacup so hard into the saucer that even the table rattled. Maren nearly jumped out of her seat.
“Oh no, why do I get the feeling that I might not want to hear it?”
“I never could hide anything from you. You know me far too well.”
Maren didn’t disagree. She braced herself, her tea forgotten, her hands clasped tightly on her lap. “Okay, well, what is it?”
“Well, you said you need a partner. Then you might not have to sell…” Hettie’s rheumy blue eyes sparkled with life. The woman might be in her late seventies, but she jogged miles every single morning, rain or shine. When she wasn’t out running, she was gardening or puttering around the yard that adjoined the Raven’s Gem. It was Hettie’s magic touch that had kept the gardens around the bed and breakfast looking as good as they were. She was trim and petite and didn’t let her aches and pains slow her down. Her gnarled hands and the wrinkles lining her eyes and mouth were really the only indicators of her true age.
“Yes, I did say that, but there isn’t anyone around here interested in investing. Believe me, I’ve asked.”
“But you also said you had a strange reservation. Owen Carter.”
“No, Hettie!”
“Yes, just hear me out.” Hettie straightened even further. She reached up and brushed her long, white hair off her shoulders, twirling it behind her neck in a bun that she let fall out a second later. “The guy’s loaded. He has investments out the ass. There’s not a person in this town who hasn’t looked him up and followed him since that tramp took off with him.”
“Chelsea became his wife. And she didn’t just take off. They dated on and off for six months before she moved to Seattle.”
“That lying little witch.”
“Hettie…”
“Well she did, lie to him I mean, from the second they met.”
“No, she didn’t. He made an assumption and she left it at that.”
“She still lied. Maybe if he knew-”
“No.” Maren shook her head emphatically. “There isn’t any point going over the past.”
“Why is he coming back then? We all know about the divorce. Chelsea moving in with that other man before it was even settled. It’s all out there, online, for anyone with eyes to read. Why would he come back here, where everyone knows who he is?”
“I have no idea,” Maren admitted.
“I’ll tel
l you why. You don’t get to be this old and not learn a thing or two about people. He’s looking for something. A sense of peace or that feeling he had here the first time. He’s been chasing it, probably ever since he was here. Once you’ve stayed at the Raven’s Gem, you remember it forever. People who leave here, they take a piece of Monterey with them.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“I do. Now drink your tea. It’s getting cold.”
Maren didn’t move. “But what does that have to do with needing a partner?”
Hettie smiled so slowly it was almost a little sinister. “Well, he obviously liked it the first time if he’s coming back, despite everything. Maybe he wants to stay. To get away to the only place that gave him a little peace.”
“I’m sure there are other places in the world.”
“He has money. The whole world knows his name. He came because he was exhausted the first time, five years ago. I could see it in his eyes, he was weary. Lonely in a way that you can only be when you’re surrounded by people all the time. People who always want something from you. And then he came to the Raven’s Gem and he met you. You were the one who never, ever asked for anything in return. Whether he knows it or not, he’s connected to you. Actually, he doesn’t know it, but we both know that’s the reason I would spit in Chelsea’s face if she ever showed back up here.”
Maren didn’t doubt for a second that Hettie meant what she said. She was as protective of Maren as her own grandmother had been, more so since Jane passed away and left Maren and the crumbling bed and breakfast alone with each other.
“So, you want me to what? Ask him?”
“Well, not like that, girl. Come on! You have assets. Beautiful, huge green eyes. Long hair the color of a sunset on the bay. A shapely body. You are a woman. Use it.”
“To seduce him? Wouldn’t that make me as bad as Chelsea? And no one likes red hair, in case you haven’t noticed.”
Hettie tittered softly, which seemed to Maren, completely inappropriate. “I’m not talking about leading him on like Chelsea did, ensnaring him and marrying him and running off with the next man who took her fancy and taking him for half his fortune. I’m talking about just using your natural beauty, both inside and out, to make him- care. Let him know how much Raven’s Gem means to you and your family. It’s all you have left of your grannie. Men love a damsel in distress.”
“Hettie!”
“I’m just saying, if he needs some persuasion. Don’t come right out and ask. Get to know him. Let him get to know you. Let him care a little so that he can see why the investment would be worth it and why it would mean so much.”
“But not deceive him.”
“No. You’re not capable of that, Maren. Thank god.”
“Yes. Thank goodness. I don’t even know how to get to know someone like that… it seems like a bad idea. I’m nearly thirty and I’ve been on all of three dates.” She didn’t mention the fumbling in the back seat of John Handerson’s car when they were sixteen or the one night stand she’d had with Ray McGovenor before he left town nearly eight years ago. God, I’m pathetic. Dusty. Who is thirty and has had sex like, twice in their lifetime?
“Just be friendly. You’re a nice girl, Maren. You have a lot of your grandmother in you. That’s why guests keep coming back year after year.”
“It’s because they like the house or Monterey.”
“It’s also because of you and your personality. You can be warm and charming when you want to be. You just have to learn how to let someone in.”
That’s easier said than done. Do you know how much it damages a person to be left by their mother and never hear from her again?
“Chelsea was my best friend. Obviously, I wasn’t enough for her to keep in contact after she left.”
Hettie snorted again, loudly. “I’ve said all I’m going to say about that girl. Trust me, Maren, you’re special. You’re more than worth getting to know. Let this guy in. Just a little. Show him even the briefest glimpse of your heart and he won’t say no. Let your guard down just a little, be friendly, compassionate. You’re not the only one who struggles with rejection and hurt and loneliness.”
Maren’s face heated. Okay, so maybe she does know. “Still, Hettie, I don’t think it’s a good idea. Like you said, everyone knows who he is.”
“He doesn’t have to live here to make an investment. All most people with money want is for their money to make more of it. He’s made a fortune investing. Start-up companies, stocks, doesn’t that say something?”
“Those are probably sure bets.”
“So is the Raven’s Gem. You both just have to believe. This is just a rough patch. You’ll get through it.”
Maren nodded slowly. She didn’t promise anything. She didn’t have to. Hettie knew exactly what that bed and breakfast meant to her. Everything. It was her entire world. It had always been her entire world. She’d do just about anything to keep it that way.
CHAPTER 3
Owen
It was funny, how some things never changed. Monterey was the same as Owen remembered it being. Quiet. Quaint. Beautiful. An endless blue sky over colorful houses. A place steeped in history and soaked in salt water breezes. It stirred his soul. Each breath he took felt like freedom.
The town was very much the same, so he was surprised to see that the Raven’s Gem had undergone a transformation. Chelsea had said nothing about a renovation. The woman who owned it, Maren, had been her best friend. Owen knew how that went. Chelsea had cut ties after she left. She never had been able to make friends and keep them. He should have taken heed long before he even married her, of what some people would term a toxic personality.
The shape of the house itself was still the same. The sprawling bed and breakfast, a little too Victorian for his taste, stood three stories tall. Little juts and peaks rose from the lofts. A round turret rose from the ground up, curving towards the sky. The roofline was at odd angles, the house as well. A huge wrap around porch made the house seem even larger.
Gone were the peeling boards, the broken porch railing, the missing, peeling, worn shingles. In their place were new windows, fresh cedar shakes and blonde cedar trim and dark blue siding that didn’t exactly look like vinyl. It was somehow classier than that. Even the porch looked new, though the broken railing spindles could have just been replaced and the whole thing restained.
Owen was good at many things, but renovations and building had never been his forte. He couldn’t say, just by looking at it, how intensive the overhaul had been.
He realized he was standing on the street, the handle of his rolling suitcase clenched tightly in his left palm, gawking at the building. Just behind it lay a strip of beach and the cool blue waters that had nearly taken his life.
He repressed a shudder. Maybe this was a mistake. He almost turned around and went back to his car, but something stopped him. Something pushed him forward, an unseen force that seemed to come from both inside and outside of himself.
The driveway with the parking stalls just off the street was freshly graveled with dark grey rock. He had a devil of a time pulling his heavy suitcase through it and was relieved when he finally stepped onto the winding concrete path that led to the front steps. The sidewalk parted the sea of vibrant green grass and flowers edged in every space possible. There were also a few freestanding beds carved out of the lawn.
The whole thing was picturesque. Exactly as a bed and breakfast should be. Owen tried hard to recall what he felt walking up to the Raven’s Gem the first time, but he couldn’t. It had been five years ago and there was too much history between that time and the present to recapture the same feeling of hope and serenity he was sure washed over him then.
He was about to take the first wooden step of the porch, definitely new wood, he realized up close, when the front door opened and Maren Hartwick, owner of the sprawling B&B stepped out.
Owen halted, his body frozen, his foot suspended in mid-air. He finally realized, after a lon
g few seconds, that he was gawking at her and placed his foot down. He couldn’t help it. Women like Maren were meant to be stared at.
Long red hair, actual red, not orange or copper, hung nearly to her waist. Her eyes were a strange grey, almost devoid of color, mysterious, otherworldly. Her eyebrows and lashes matched her hair, almost an exact shade, making it obvious that Maren’s color was the product of genetics and not some shade from a box or an afternoon spent at the salon. Her lips were full and the most beautiful shade of coral. Her face shape was dainty, almost pixie-like. She had high cheekbones and a sharp jawline, alabaster skin that needed absolutely no makeup to be flawless. Set off with all that blazing hair, she looked absolutely exotic.
“Hello!” Maren smiled freely, revealing a set of pearly whites. Owen noticed that her front two teeth were just the slightest bit crooked, but somehow even that was charming. “I’m so glad that you made it. How was the drive?” Those grey eyes flicked to his sports car, parked behind him.
“Fine, thank you.” Owen found his throat suddenly dry. He wished he’d thought to bring a drink with him, a bottle of water or something. He’d driven like a man possessed, intent on arriving. He’d made only one stop, for gas and that was it. He realized that he was starving and that a background headache was forming behind his eyes.
Maren treaded softly over the porch. She wore a green maxi dress, the straps made up of little woven ropes. It plunged low in front but not nearly low enough to be indecent. It outlined full breasts. He could just make out the peaks of her nipples and glanced down to his suitcase, a slow burn spreading through blood that hadn’t felt the joy of being awakened in a long, long time. When she turned slightly he could see that the back of the dress dipped low, revealing an expanse of creamy skin. He could make out her shoulder blades and the little bumps of her backbone. She was tall, just shorter than he was by a couple inches, yet she had all the required curves that height often robbed.