A Shore Thing (12 page)

That was close. After the disappointing visit to my brother Jim’s office—a cliché if I ever heard one—it pained me to run into Gage Mitchell at the Kitteridge property. I had strolled the beach to regroup and planned on climbing the hill on my way home. I was unprepared to see him there, of all places. I tried, but he needled his way under my skin. What’s worse—I almost gave away June’s secret. After she begged me to keep the information to myself, I nearly threw it into the architect’s face as proof that all was not right with this deal.

For the first time since Friday, I could see that keeping this secret presented a challenge.

I disliked admitting this, even to myself, but there were moments when I noticed glimpses of something pleasing about Gage. When I reached the top of the stairs, he didn’t notice me at first and I studied him briefly, noting a wistful, almost longing expression on his face. It felt familiar to me. Could he have been having second thoughts?

Our eyes met and good sense rematerialized within me. In his gaze I saw a flash of appreciation and it turned me cold. Worse, he talked of God, then followed that by mocking the townspeople.

I trudged up the hill toward home, shaking my head with each step. Instead of Gage being the person that, for one irrational instant, I considered someone to confide in, I realized he may be playing me.

“There she is—Madam President.” Ruth stood to the right of the well-worn path, a sagging trash sack over one shoulder, her other hand formed in a salute.

My head jerked. “Didn’t see you there.”

“That’s all right. You got your head in the details I’m sure. Wanna give me a heads-up on what you’ll be reporting tomorrow night?”

I swallowed hard. The memory of June’s desperation clenched at my heart. “Worked all weekend, but I do have an idea I’d like to run with.”

Ruth’s face went on alert and she leaned in.

I inhaled and thought out my words. “But let’s wait until we’re all together. I’ve got to get home to take my dog for a walk—been a busy day, you know?”

The hand that had been raised in a salute moved to Ruth’s hip. “Sure. All right.” She raised her chin until her eyes were visible beneath the rim of her hat. “Been thinking about those Kitteridges lately. Have you talked to them yet? Must’ve been given some offer to go back on their word like that.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Things happen and people change their minds sometimes.”

“So you haven’t talked to them.”

Why did I get the feeling that, in Ruth’s mind, my leadership was in name only? “Actually I have. Like I said, I’ve got an idea, so I’ll see you at the RAG, okay?”

Carp, from camp, pulled up next to us on a mountain bike, her back tire kicking up dust as she went into a skid. “Hey Seabird! Thought maybe I’d see you around.”

Ruth cocked her head.

I smiled at the counselor, momentarily forgetting how much she likes to tease me about my age, then turned to Ruth. “Seabird is my camp name—it makes it more fun for the kids to call us by nicknames. And this is Carp. She’s one of our weekend counselors.” I gestured toward Ruth. “Carp, I’d like you to meet Ruth.”

Ruth nodded. “Nice to meet you. Is that Carp for the town of Carpinteria down near Santa Barbara? Or for the fish?”

Carp giggled. “The fish, definitely. I’ve never been that far south.”

Ruth puckered. “Haven’t seen you riding around here before. You new in town?”

Carp straddled her bike, and let her hands drape down the front of her handlebars. “I go to college down in SLO but decided to stay around today to check out the town more.” She flicked a look my way. “You’re my inspiration, Seabird.”

“Really?” My eyes widened. “Why?”

“Well, at first I was gonna drive down to my dorm last night, then drive back up here today. But then I started thinking about how you always talk about saving fuel and how you walk everywhere.” She shrugged. “Seemed like a waste of gas to do all that driving around, so I stuck this bike into the trunk of my car on Friday and just spent another night at camp.” She patted her bike. “You really can see a whole lot more when you’re not stuck in a car.”

I clapped my hands. “Cool. I love hearing that. You picked a perfect day weather-wise too.”

“I’ll say.” Carp’s gaze led to the horizon. “I’m usually so busy with the kidoodles at camp that I don’t have the chance to just be out here on the bluffs. It’s mesmerizing.”

A sly smile creased Ruth’s face and she slid a look my way. She was in recruiting mode, I could feel it. So I stepped to the plate—and changed the subject. “I’ve got a doggy that needs some love, so I’ll leave you here to soak up the beauty. By the way, on Wednesday I am going to meet with Squid and a few others on the board. If you have any comments for me to take back, I’d—”

“I do! Some of the kids, well, they don’t seem to be understanding the message as well as they should. The counselors have been doing a good job of filling in the gaps, but I don’t know. I just think we need to make the presentation more clear.” As soon as the words tumbled from her mouth, Carp waved both hands in front of herself, as if wanting to take them back. “I didn’t mean that Squid or anybody was doing a bad job or anything.”

I touched her shoulder. “I’m sure you didn’t. If it helps, Squid’s been reworking the presentation and looking for reviews and suggestions. Like you said, I had some great discussions with my kids over the weekend and that could go a long way.”

Carp’s face lit up. “Oh, that’s right. You got a chance to play counselor. Fun, huh?”

“Oh, sure. No sleep, freezing toilet seat—yeah, that was cool.” I laughed. “Seriously, though, the girls were so ready to grow. I’d forgotten how precious it was to see their transformation.”

Ruth fidgeted. It appeared that she was looking for her escape so I addressed her. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, Ruth.”

She nodded, her hat flapping up and down. “That’s right. And I’ll be expecting a full report.” She turned to Carp. “And good meeting you, missy. Just be careful you don’t ride that bike of yours too close to the edge. There’s some erosion going on that could be dangerous.”

Carp hopped onto her bike. “Aw, thanks. That was sweet of you to warn me.” We watched as she waved goodbye and coasted downhill.

“Warn her, my foot.” Ruth muttered loud enough for me to hear as I hiked up the hill. “I’m just hoping not to see any more damage caused by careless humans.”

I brushed aside Ruth’s thoughtless comment and focused instead on my brief conversation with Carp. She was right. Something was missing in the weekend presentation. Still, as Gage said, our God is a big God and I had no doubt that he would fill in the gaps for our campers.

My feet froze in place. Did I just agree with something Gage said?

GAGE

GAGE TYPED IN HIS voice-mail code, hoping he didn’t have to hear his client’s gruff voice right now, issuing him commands. Hearing Marc’s voice on the line, however, wasn’t much easier.

“Dude, Lizzy wanted me to call you . . . you know, just to check on your status Are you settling in? Found a church? Things like that. Put me . . . I mean, help me put my wife out of her misery here, ’kay?” Marc lowered his voice to a conspiratorial tone. “You know how she worries about you.”

Gage squeezed his eyes shut, drew in a breath through his nose, and stretched his shoulders toward his ears. He gave his head a tight shake. What did he ever do to deserve such a friend?

Gage dropped his face into his hands and muttered to himself. “Hypocrite.” He felt his cheeks flush at the single word spoken into the air. Of course, he wasn’t referring to Marc. Never! Instead, he spoke the word about himself.

Gage leaned back against his squeaky chair, his head a tangle of heavy emotion. He recalled the way he let Callie Duflay believe that he prayed on a regular basis. He knew better. Worse, God did too. He sighed, not the feathery exhalation of someone who’s been inconvenienced, but the kind of wretched sigh that escapes from lungs held taut from discontent with oneself.

This move to Otter Bay had not solved all his problems. On the contrary, everywhere it seemed, he found land mines ready to explode. His phone rang again, but he immediately switched off the sound, not caring to see who was on the other end. Instead, he kept his head bowed, and began, “Dear God . . .”

Chapter Thirteen

“Here, put this on.” Greta handed a white face mask to me and snapped the elastic band.

I hopped backward. “Why do I have to wear one? I’m not pregnant.”

My sister-in-law dug one elegant fist into her now ample hip and hung the mask from the fingers of her free hand. “Because if I’m going to look like an alien, then so are you.”

I sighed. Pregnancy-brain affected us all. I secured the mask around my mouth and immediately felt remorse for having eaten so much garlic with dinner last night. “Where to?” My voice sounded muffled.

Greta motioned for me to follow her down the hall to a room with tall windows and partially painted walls. Bobby rolled color onto the previously dull surface while wearing ear buds and humming “I Heard It Through the Grapevine.” He couldn’t hear me cackling behind him.

Greta smacked his rump to get his attention, and I turned away from the marital display.
Please.

Bobby pulled one bud from his ear. “Hey, Callie. What do you think?” He waved the saturated paint roller around his head.

“I think you should keep your day job.”

He stuck out his tongue then leaned and gave me a swift smacker on the cheek. “You’re in good spirits today I see. Nice mask.”

I blew him a raspberry and quickly regretted it. With one hand, I pulled the thing off and handed it to Greta. She wagged a shaming mommy finger at me, but I only laughed. “So you really did go with teal.” I paused and looked around. “You know, it really looks good.”

Greta perked, her eyes smiling. “Really?”

I gave her an appraising nod. “Really,
really
pretty.”

“You mean handsome.” Bobby’s paint roller froze midair.

I clasped my hands. “You’re having a boy?”

Greta shook her head and led Bobby back to painting. “No. We don’t know. He’s just worried that if we do, this room will look too pretty.”

I sent him a mock glare. “You’re not into that whole pink for girls and blue for boys thing, are you little brother?”

He looked to Greta, then at me, as if this were a trick question. “No comment.”

Greta laughed. “You two are so weird. Speaking of boys, I wanted to tell you that I gave out your number yesterday.”

Bobby quipped. “Nice segue.”

His wife slapped his shoulder, then grabbed me by the elbow. “Remember that girl we met? Suzanna? She was in the paint store yesterday at the same time we were, and we got to talking, and well . . . she asked for your phone number.”

Bobby stopped but didn’t look at us. “You’d better explain that, G.”

She gave her head a tiny shake. “For her brother. The one who’s the architect. Remember him?”

“Tell me you’re kidding.” I pulled away from her. “Why would you do that?”

“Well, she asked about you and thought you were so nice to help her. She said you saved her a trip to another paint store! Anyway, she thinks her brother is lonely and that he needs a friend and thought that since you two are so much alike that you’d be a good match.”

Had pregnancy caused Greta to lose all sense? “You do remember who Gage Mitchell is, right? The architect who wants to desecrate the Kitteridge property?”

Greta smoothed back a curl. “Are you angry? It’s just, I don’t know. The more she told me about her brother—how cute he is, and ‘green’ he is—I just thought you might be able to get past your differences and at least show him around Otter Bay a little. He’s new around here. Did you know that?”

Bobby stood in silence. He was like a cat. Maybe if he froze in place, I wouldn’t see him. But oh, I saw him all right. “And where were you when I was being set up with the enemy? Huh?”

“No me recuerdo.”

“Right. Don’t pull that high school Spanish on me. You
do
remember, mister. Thanks a lot for watching my back.”

He dropped the paint roller into a pan, shrugged, and opened both palms. “You expect me to get in Greta’s way when she’s doing God’s work?”

I threw my head back and scoffed. “Don’t bring God into this!”

Greta gave her stomach several
there-there
pats. Her face had begun turning a darker shade. “I’m sorry I upset you, Callie. It just felt like a divine appointment to me. What were the chances of running into Suzanna at the same store two times in a row? I haven’t gone to a paint store in years, then all of a sudden I’m in there twice and meet a woman whose brother speaks your language. He’s single and you’re single so . . .”

“So you figured you’d meddle.” I unfolded my arms and glanced away once I became aware that tears were forming in Greta’s eyes. “Listen, forget it. It was a nice thought, but be assured, Gage Mitchell would never call me, especially for anything personal. You can take that to the bank.”

“Why?” Greta wasn’t giving up. “Wait. Have you and he had more encounters?”

My pause swelled like Greta’s belly. Silence hung for an uncomfortable beat. “Let’s just say that I’m moving forward with a plan that will send him back to where he came from, and he’s not too thrilled with me.” I scoffed. “He even had the audacity to make fun of my group’s efforts.”