by Zoe York
Seth howled, and Josh choked on the toast he’d just shoved in his mouth.
“Kerry seems to disagree,” Adam drawled.
Will sighed. They’d derailed again. It was for the best. But now all he could think about was how Catie Berton had some thoughts about the codependent relationship he and his brothers had, and how it was sort of true, but mostly so much better than that sounded.
Catie woke up early, for her, to meet Bailey at Bake Sale! for breakfast and real estate talk.
When she arrived at the bakery, Bailey was behind the counter, playing barista. “What can I get for you?”
“Extra-large flat white, please, and one of those savoury breakfast rolls. Oh, and a strawberry tart.”
Bailey put two of everything on a tray, then they moved to a small table in the corner. Isla took over at the cash register.
“Here’s what I know.” Catie passed over a neatly printed page. “The property is abandoned, as you know, but up to date on property tax. Those taxes are being paid by a law firm in Port Elgin who represent the owner. It hasn’t been listed for sale in the last decade. It’s already zoned appropriately for commercial development, so it’s unlikely they’re holding out for the town to change that. I recommend a fair market value offer.”
She handed over another sheet. “These are comparable properties that have sold in the last three years. None were abandoned for as long, and we would need a thorough inspection, but my guess is this property might sell for about the same as this one—” She pointed to the second on the page. “Or maybe even less.”
“Can they get an inspection before making an offer?”
“We can ask.”
Bailey bounced in her chair. “Excellent. My cousins are going to visit for the Canada Day weekend, and if they see the potential, we’ll want to proceed.”
“How involved are you going to be in the project?”
“I’m not sure. I like the idea. But I like a lot of ideas. And I don’t see myself actually being the proprietor of the motel. Motelier?”
“Ooh, that has a ring to it. But not for you?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Fair enough. I can relate to wanting to tackle new projects. I have the salon and real estate to pay the bills, and the volunteer positions are the ones where I play musical chairs.” Catie wrinkled her nose. “Not that I’m flighty about it. Just…I like change.”
Bailey bit into her breakfast roll and nodded happily. It was a refreshing change to talk openly about changing things up—personally, or community-wise—and not get immediate push back. Catie joined in her silently devouring their breakfast.
As they finished, Isla approached, taking off her apron, her attention on the street.
“Bailey, can you take the counter again if anyone comes in? Adam’s here.” The way Isla’s face lit up when she caught sight of her husband’s truck was a thing of absolute beauty.
Their friend had a rough first marriage and a rocky divorce. If anyone deserved the unreserved adoration of a hot firefighter—a younger man, no less—it was Isla. And a year into their marriage, it seemed like their love was only growing.
But Catie secretly believed that kind of true love was meant to be for most people, and the way Bailey’s gaze followed Isla as she darted out the door and launched herself into Adam’s arms made Catie want to play matchmaker for the younger woman.
“Speaking of community charities, it’s not too soon to start thinking about next year’s bachelor auction. Can I talk you into putting yourself on the auction block for a good cause?”
Bailey made a face.
“Think about it. Lore’s still dating the woman who bid on her.”
“I know!” Bailey grinned. “I’m thrilled for her. I don’t know. Maybe. If I’m not dating someone by then…” She glanced out the window and sighed. “Look at them.”
Catie followed her gaze. Adam brushed Isla’s hair off her face, holding it out of the way so he could kiss her forehead.
If they were in a cartoon, hearts would appear above them.
“Forehead kisses are so sweet.”
Catie snorted. “Forehead kisses are foreplay. I mean, yes, they’re also very sweet, but that brush of lips on skin…the way he lingers like that? That’s a deeply intimate promise of something to come.” She stood up. “All right, I need to get to work. That hair won’t cut itself. Let me know what your cousins think about the motel.”
Outside, she waved hello to Adam, who looked like he wanted to say something to her, so she slowed to a stop. “Morning.”
He nodded. “Yep.”
Well, if he had had a thought, he was keeping it to himself. “See you 'round.”
“Wait, Catie.” He looked faintly embarrassed, the tops of his cheeks turning pink. “I don’t want to get involved, but Will’s a good guy.”
“I’m aware.” She cocked her head to one side and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Don’t want to get involved with what, exactly?”
“Nothing.” Except clearly Will had said something to his brothers, about her.
“Your brother worries too much about what I think about him.”
“We agree on that.”
“And he should spend more time actually talking directly to me, rather than using intermediaries who have better people skills than him.”
“Whoa, no. Hey. Uh, no. That’s not…accurate. On the skills things, or that I’m some kind of intermediary. I’m not.”
“Mm hmm.” Across the street, she saw her first customer approach the front of the salon. “I have to go.”
“I think you have him wrong, that’s all.”
“I have him exactly as he presents himself. Did he tell you about ignoring my emails? Business related ones?”
Adam visibly cringed. “No.”
“Then maybe you don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“All right.” He frowned. “I can tell him—”
“Nope. Do not.” She took a deep if shaky breath. “I would prefer if we pretended we didn’t have this conversation, because you’re a good guy.”
“Sure thing.” Adam shrugged.
She knew the feeling. This weirdness didn’t make much sense. “Look, Will just needs to get over…well, all the things he thinks about me. But this is between him and me, and it’s fine. Truly. Now I have to get to work, so excuse me.”
“He didn’t actually say anything. I was just inferring some shit. I’m sorry.” Adam looked genuinely pained now.
Catie thought about offering him her strawberry tart, but he could just go inside and get his own. He had the inside track with the baker. “I believe you.”
And the funny thing was, she really did.
Her feud with Will felt a bit like a mutual secret. Maybe a poorly kept one, because this was Pine Harbour after all, but she didn’t want anyone else taking sides, as she’d said to Bailey the other night. For one thing, nobody else would believe her if she told them Will was a jerk. For another, as much as she liked to critique the principal, the thought of anyone else picking on him made her queasy.
Plus people would start picking sides, and he already had a built in hockey team with his immediate family. Exhibit A, Adam, trying to smooth things over, even when he didn’t know what exactly had been ruffled out of place.
But an hour later, when Will strode into her salon in the middle of a busy Saturday morning, she thought it might be worth revisiting the secret nature of their quarrel. He scanned the space, searching for her, and when he found her, his gaze locked on her face. Serious, demanding. Like he wanted her to drop everything and tend to whatever urgent inquiry he had.
She jerked her head at the waiting area. Take a chair, bud.
He did. She finished the blowout she was doing, checked on highlights developing under the dryer, then made her way back to him. “Can I help you?”
“I’m here about the job posting you put up.”
That was funny. “I don’t think you’re qua
lified, frankly.”
He smirked. “I have a student who I think might be a good fit. He’s a bit of a hot head. If I send him to you, can I ask that you treat him with care? I’m not asking you to hire the kid necessarily, but give him a good—”
“Wow, Will. What a backhanded way of telling me not to be mean to a child.”
“He’s fourteen.”
“As I was saying.” She rolled her eyes. “Tell him to send me his resume. If you think someone is a hot head, they might just be perfect for me.”
“Yeah?”
“What? Do you think I’m going to punish some kid because you don’t know how to be nice to me?”
“I can be nice to you.”
“Evidence suggests otherwise.”
He nodded. “All right. Challenge accepted.”
She snorted. Sure, and pigs could fly.
Chapter Six
“Do you take walk-in appointments?”
Catie wanted to say yes—she never liked turning away a potential customer—but tonight was search and rescue training. Also known as, poke-the-bear night.
She couldn’t be late to trade zingers with Will. “I’m sorry, I’m just closing up.”
The customer made an appointment for the next day, then Catie locked the door behind them and quickly hustled through her clean up duties.
But when she arrived at the park, there were no zingers exchanged. Will didn’t approach her before training, and he didn’t roll his eyes at her once during the introduction to ground search techniques, even when she pulled out reflective wrist bands and a tie-dye neck gaiter to add to her already bright outfit for the night.
“Wouldn’t want to blend into the trees,” she said brightly.
No reaction at first. A slow blink, second. Then a smile. “Smart.”
The same pattern repeated itself when they split into small groups to discuss the different behaviours people exhibit when they get lost. She made a point of calling teenagers kids, twice, and both times he agreed with her without any hint of being annoyed. As if he didn’t even remember their conversation in her salon.
He was going out of his way to be courteous. Polite. Reasonable. She might hate reasonable. Grumpiness felt like he cared at least. This polite professionalism was cool, calm, and probably fake.
She wanted him to be annoyed by her. Outwardly. Then she would know where she stood.
Tom gathered everyone back together. “Let’s get outside and put this into practice. The person we’re looking for today is a twelve-year-old girl named Yolanda.” Everyone had a good chuckle at that, as Yolanda was in her fifties. “She is camping here in the provincial park with her family, and wandered away from their site a few hours ago. We’ve been assigned this quadrant to search.”
As Tom gave them their instructions, Catie remembered the order of operations they practiced the week before. She was able to anticipate what he would say next, which gave her confidence that she was picking this up after only a few weeks.
They lined up in a row, alternating experienced searchers and trainees. Will was at the far end, next to Jeong, then Tom, then Lore, then a guy called Tobin—his last name—then Catie, and a few more people after her. Tom’s clear instructions for what Yolanda was wearing rang in Catie’s mind. She didn’t have enough experience yet to recognize footprints or a newly broken trail, but she could keep her eyes peeled for movement, or clothing, or lost belongings.
As they moved into the brush, her thoughts wandered, annoyingly, to the man at the end of the line.
It was unrealistic to expect everyone in town to like her. That was a lesson she learned early in life, soon after they moved to Pine Harbour. Whispers about her mother—about why Catie didn’t have a father (he’s never been in the picture, apparently) about how flirtatious Suzanne was (gets around, that one does)—and then later on, about her, too.
She hated how much it mattered to her, even now, what other people thought of her. How deeply she wanted what had been denied to her as a child. She would give almost anything to make Pine Harbour into the ideal space her mother imagined it to be, but she knew now that wouldn’t mean universal acceptance.
Her goals were smarter, now. Majority acceptance, and fuck the rest of them.
It worked for everyone except Will Kincaid.
She was saved from examining that too deeply by a glint of purple plastic ahead. “I have something here,” she said loudly.
The whole line stopped, and she described the water bottle in front of her. They moved forward again, until she was close enough to pick it up. The vinyl name sticker on it read Yolanda Clarke.
SAR members were good about labelling their stuff.
“Let’s radio that back to the search coordinator,” Tom said, and Tobin went through those motions. That language was less familiar from the previous training, and Catie made a mental note to practice radio protocols more.
Then they resumed their ground search. The next person to find something was Jeong, who spotted a clear set of recent footprints, roughly the right size for Yolanda.
“If we map these two clues out, what does it tell us?”
“She might be moving in a diagonal direction north-west,” Lore said.
Catie clapped for her friend when Tom confirmed that was exactly his thought, too.
“The most important thing to remember right now, in this moment, is that we need to ignore the instinct to turn and go in that direction. The search coordinator will dispatch a hasty team to follow that potential lead. We need to finish clearing our assigned area, because it’s also possible she’s moving in a zig-zag pattern, confused or disoriented, or just trying to self-correct.”
If Catie were standing next to Will, she’d say something about it being more fun to go in search of the missing girl—to try to get his back up. But she didn’t want to sound foolish in front of the others, so she swallowed the joke.
It was an interesting test of their focus, to keep searching per their instructions, and trust that another part of the search effort would take what they found and try to find the girl elsewhere. And it underlined for Catie that she’d never really been one to rely on a team for anything, and that made it interesting to her that she’d embraced SAR.
Their dedication paid off, because less than twenty yards ahead, they found Yolanda pretending to be asleep next to a tree.
Catie got to be the one to gently approach her, “wake up” the girl and give her back her water bottle. Then, declaring the practice a success, the line broke up into a spread out group for the trek back to the training centre.
After they debriefed, the last task of the night was supply inventory. While each searcher was responsible for their own gear, consumables like batteries, first aid supplies, and ropes were purchased with SAR donated funds.
She helped Yolanda with the first aid checklists, then drifted to where Tobin was testing batteries once that was done.
There were only four other people left when the batteries were all sorted again. Tom was going over gear with Lore and Jeong, and Will was working with a pile of rope on the other side of the big room.
She thought about leaving.
She should leave, but then Will glanced up, like he felt her watching him. His expression didn’t change, but he held her gaze, and she found herself moving in his direction.
When she stopped next to him, he made an unexpected offer. “Do you want to learn about the rope? We’ll be practicing with it next week and the week after.”
Her response was uncharacteristically basic. “Sure.”
No sarcastic retort, no bristle. She barely recognized herself in that single syllable, but as he launched into it, she shook off that confusing thought. He gave her a brief overview of the equipment, most of which she wouldn’t remember, and then recommended a couple of YouTube channels to watch.
“Thanks.”
He gave her a polite nod before returning to his task. A momentary flutter, a weird panic to hold his attention a little long
er, rose inside her, and she pushed it back down.
Maybe it wasn’t that Will didn’t like her. Perhaps it was more that he just didn’t like her, a subtle distinction. One she would learn to live with, because it was fine for someone to not like her. Expecting everyone to think she was the bee’s knees was an impossible standard. She could only expect Will to do what everyone else on the team had done—make her feel welcome.
She moved to leave, and he looked up again. “Catie?”
“Yeah?”
“It’s good to have you on the team.”
She knew he was probably saying that because she was the fifth woman they needed to have a balanced slate for the competition. But it also felt a little bit like he had just read her mind, and a tinge of heat popped on her cheeks.
Catie knew she wasn’t anyone’s first choice for actual search and rescue. She was still working on her strength, and it would never be what the stronger people could bring. She ignored the way Will’s arms flexed as he started pulling rope again. Spare, efficient movements, his biceps bouncing with each pull.
How did a school principal stay that buff, anyway? Catie worked on her feet all day and he put her to shame. “I know I’m not as strong as…”
He didn’t seem to mind that she trailed off. He just shrugged. “The most important thing you might do is spot a water bottle. Or if you’re in the hasty team, and can move quickly to a coordinate, you might be the first one on scene with a survival blanket and some ibuprofen. Don’t underestimate the value of being fast, observant, or nimble.”
“Thanks.” But the warmth that came from his reassurance faded as he turned away, and this time kept his attention firmly on the ropes.
Will was done with her after two brief attempts at conversation.
The next afternoon, Friday, brought two unexpected people to the salon.
The door swung upon, and in stepped a big, heavyset man who buzzed his own hair off on a standard number one clipper setting. With him was a teenage boy with a slightly longer buzzcut of his own. If it weren’t for the white piece of paper clutched in the teenager’s hand, Catie would wonder if they were lost.