Half Moon Harbor (6 page)

She smiled. “I live—lived—in a condo in Old Town, Alexandria. Virginia,” she clarified when he didn't nod in understanding. “And though it is across a river from where I worked in D.C., no, I did not row to work. Though, come to think of it, it might have been easier, not to mention faster.”

“So, you row out on this river to do what? Drop a line? Do you fish?”

She made a face. “No. Not that I have anything against it. The seafood here is so amazing, it's like I've never tasted fresh fish before. But me, putting bait on a hook? No, that would be my brother, not me. Although I'm not sure even he does that anymore.”

She'd mentioned family earlier, that she'd come to Maine for the purpose of reuniting hers. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask about her brother, but something flickered in her eyes. Pain? Regret? Something other than warmth or love, for sure. Whatever it was, it was gone as quickly as it came, but it was enough so that he left the topic alone. For now. “So you row for . . . ?”

She shrugged. “Fun. It's good exercise.” She grinned again at his confused expression and made a show of flexing her biceps, which admittedly had a fairly impressive curve to them.

He nodded and tried not to think about her other impressive curves. “So, in a canoe, then. A dinghy or dory or some such. You just row about?”

“You sail about, right? What's the difference? I row in a scull.” She laughed when his eyes widened. “You build boats for a living and you haven't heard of a scull?”

“Oh, aye. Those long, sleek laddies made to glide over the surface of the water, seats that slide so you can move legs and arms in unison to pull the long oars, sending yourself skimming through waters like a dragonfly skating just along the surface. Body, boat, and soul moving as one, master of your direction, and feeling, perhaps, the master of your own destiny as well.” He smiled. “Something like that, is it?”

Her lips parted slightly, and he knew he'd captured exactly what drew her to the sport, just as he knew his insight had startled her. He found he rather liked being unexpected. Maybe it was her dinging him on not being used to being thwarted, or that she so obviously thought she had him summed up, but whatever the case, he knew he could get used to finding new ways to surprise her.

“Something like that,” she said quietly and started to slide her hand away.

He tightened his hold then, just enough to keep her in his grasp. “Aye, I know of them, though I've never been called upon to build one. Perhaps I was just surprised that you did. Although I suppose I shouldn't be. The regimen of manning such a disciplined vessel and mastering such a sport would probably appeal to one as proper as you.”

Her lovely amber-green eyes widened a bit at that. “Why do you think me proper?”

“We're in a small coastal fishing town where the most formal attire is a new pair of wellies, and even that only lasts an excursion or two. Yet, you're out on my docks in your big city coat, fancy shoes, proper leather satchel.”

“I had just been at the bank to meet with—”

“Our sweet Sue. Aye, indeed. Who was likely wearin' a jumper made with more heart than skill by her granddaughter's own hands and a comfortable pair of denims.” He grinned, knowing from her expression he had the right of it.

He couldn't say what made him do it, only that it seemed the right thing in that moment. He lifted her hand to his lips, palm up. He didn't kiss the wound in the center of her palm, but instead pressed a soft kiss to the calluses, then rolled her fingertips over them as he let her hand go. “That you've found joy on the water is something I know and respect. It's a lucky thing to know, and an even luckier thing to have. Have you ever sailed?”

She blinked, absently shook her head, and protectively slid her curled hand to her lap, out of view. He knew she was dwelling on the kiss, or how he had described being on the water. Or some combination of the two. Truth be told, so was he. So much so that rising from his seat would once again prove a bit too revelatory. He was going to have to do something about that. The problem was, what he wanted to do and what was the wiser thing regarding his property, were on opposite ends of the solution spectrum.

And she was right . . . he wasn't used to encountering resistance.

Perhaps he'd go about finding a way to have both. “Well, that's something we'll have to rectify then, won't we?”

“I
'm not questioning that the property was legally available for the price of back taxes. I paid them myself. I have the deed in hand.” Grace propped the phone between her ear and her shoulder as she raked her free hand through her still-damp hair, then held onto it in a tail in her fist at the back of her head, trying to hold on to her patience, as well. “I just—I was curious why I wasn't made aware of the fact that there is a Monaghan currently living and working on the premises of Monaghan Shipbuilders.”

She knew instead of talking to Cami Weathersby, trying to find out what amounted to local gossip, she should be on the phone with her architect, plotting out the first steps toward turning her boathouse into the inn of her dreams. She owned the place, it was hers, the rest was Brodie's problem. But just because she'd pointed out to him that she was on to his charming ways didn't mean she was immune to them herself. Far from it. She'd be reliving that moment when he'd glanced up at her through those ridiculously thick dark lashes of his, just before pressing those warm, hint-of-a-smile lips to her skin for days. Weeks.

She couldn't risk that he'd somehow charmed her attention away from the giant red flag that might be waving right in front of her face. Something was going on between the town and Brodie and, like it or not, Grace owned a piece of the town and was likely going to find herself smack in the middle of it, whether she wanted to be or not. If Brodie was going to try to get the sale overturned—charm and palm kissing aside, she had every reason to believe he would—she had no choice but to arm herself with as much information as she could, right from the start.

“Oh. Well. So, you've met Brodie then,” Cami responded.

Did you think I wouldn't notice he lived there?
“We've become acquainted,” was all Grace said.

There was a pause, and perhaps it felt like a pregnant one because Grace was on high alert.

“The sale went through late yesterday,” Cami said.

And in record time,
Grace wanted to add, but didn't. She'd assumed they'd pushed it through quickly so the back taxes would get paid and they could dump the property before Grace changed her mind. But that didn't excuse them not alerting Brodie to the impending purchase. Not that they had a legal obligation to do so, but surely an ethical or moral one. In small towns, those often took precedence.

When Cami had set up the list of Cove properties for Grace to look at a mere week ago, the boathouse wasn't even on the printout. In fact, it had seemed almost an afterthought on Cami's part, like something that came up because they were in the area, but she hadn't thought to mention as, surely, Grace wasn't interested in something like that. Cami had talked about the sad condition of the property, adding in the tax issue almost off-handedly. In fact, Grace realized it had been her own idea to stop in and give it a look. Had Cami intended that outcome? Grace really had no way of knowing.

When she'd decided to buy it and brought up the point that, since it was a tax buyout from the town, Cami wouldn't earn anything on the sale, the perky blonde had waved it off with a smile. She'd seemed very sincere about being happy she was able to do such a big favor for the community. She'd even mentioned that her husband Ted was head of the town council, and that he would also be thrilled to see even part of the property find renewed life. She'd gone on about how her family had ties to the community going back more than five generations and Ted's almost as many. Putting the legacy of the Cove above all else was something they tried to do whenever possible.

Admittedly, at that point Grace had thought Cami sounded a bit disingenuous. It didn't take a law degree to figure out that if the rundown waterfront property showed signs of regeneration, it would only mean good things for property values in the harbor area and therefore a greater likelihood that Cami would make commissions on other local properties that she did represent. But Cami's intent hadn't mattered to Grace at the time.

“Yes, I know,” Grace said in response, “and I was really relieved and happy that you were willing to work so quickly to get the paperwork done and processed.” That was true enough, though the chirpy tone that had crept into her voice was a bit wince-worthy. “I was so eager to get started, I went right down to the docks after my early appointment this morning with—”

“Sue Clemmons, at the bank, yes. I was in this morning myself and she mentioned it,” Cami added quickly.

Grace paused a moment then said, “Yes, well, my hope is to get the ball rolling on the boathouse renovation and take advantage of the good weather while we have it. So you can imagine how surprised I was when I went down there this morning and discovered someone living in the boathouse at the other end of the property. Someone whose last name is the same as the one on the side of the largest boathouse. He says he has claim to the entire property.

“Now,” she continued before Cami could speak, “I know the property I purchased is legally mine, but shouldn't he have been informed of the pending sale? I know it went through quickly, but . . .” She trailed off on purpose, hoping she simply sounded naturally inquisitive and not accusatory.

“Brodie was well aware of the situation regarding the property,” Cami assured her, all brisk business. “Is he—what did he say, exactly? Is he giving you problems because of this?”

At the honest concern in Cami's voice—though it wasn't so much concern, as, well, avid interest, perhaps?—Grace straightened and let her hair fall back around her shoulders. It felt heavy on her neck, and she felt silly for not putting it up again when she'd gotten back to the room she'd been renting on the outskirts of the Cove. She'd started to pull it up in a ponytail, but couldn't shake the way Brodie's eyes had gone all dark and hot when he'd first spied her on the iron stairs with her hair down and wild. Now she just felt silly and vapid.

“Should he be?” Grace asked, knowing she couldn't keep letting the man distract her. “Am I going to be facing some sort of battle over this?“

“I can't see why he would. If he'd wanted to do something to secure it, he's had plenty of time. As you could see, he hasn't really done anything.”

Grace wouldn't say that the total renovation of the boathouse he was using as his residence and office was nothing, but she wasn't going to argue the point.

“The property is yours,” Cami stated flatly. “And that's all that matters. We're all excited about this new venture,” she went on quickly.

Grace didn't ask who
all
was comprised of, but knowing small towns and how long the waterfront property had been dormant, she imagined word was spreading quickly. She hoped that was a good thing. She wanted to get to know her new neighbors and wanted them to have a positive attitude about her future inn.

“I'm really happy to hear that,” Grace said sincerely. “The thing is, living and doing business on the same property, Brodie and I will have to work in some kind of joint fashion, but we don't necessarily share the same overall vision. You can probably understand that he wasn't exactly thrilled to find out part of his property had been sold out from under him. So, being new to town and with you being so connected, what with your family background here and all,” Grace added, shamelessly sucking up a little if it meant getting the inside scoop, “I was hoping maybe you could shed some behind-the-scenes light on the situation.”

Cami was more than eager to reply. “Well, there's no light to shed, really. I'm not sure what he told you, Grace, but he's been here a full year, and other than fixing up that boathouse he lives in and one of the outbuildings where he's building one of his boats, he hasn't made any real headway or shown any real interest at all in reinvigorating his family's former business. Not in any appreciable way that we can see, anyway. I mean, one boat does not an empire rebuild, you know? The town officials, the council—everyone was excited when he showed up, believe you me, thrilled even, that the eyesore the Monaghan property had become was finally going to get some attention. I know from my husband that they bent over backwards to come up with a payment plan regarding the back taxes, all with the hope of seeing some change come to pass. Only it hasn't.”

“Well, a year isn't that long when most of it's winter, and he's only one man. Property of that scope and size is a pretty massive undertaking. I—” Grace broke off, realizing she was actually supporting Brodie's argument. Her plan when she'd called Cami had been to remain neutral, the newcomer eager to work with everyone, wanting her business to be the right fit, etcetera. All true. But something about Cami's explanation, the air of condescension toward Brodie, rubbed Grace the wrong way, and she'd spoken without thinking. “I just want to make sure we're all on the same page. I've explained to Mr. Monaghan that I intend to honor his family's legacy and, if anything, my ownership has lightened his burden somewhat.”

“Exactly!” Cami chirped. “Win-win for everybody, just as I said. And don't you worry about his feathers being a little ruffled. I'll speak with my husband and make sure everything is fine there. Frankly, like you, I thought he'd be happy about it; that's why I didn't give it a second thought.”

Now Cami, that's not really true, is it?
Grace thought, her instincts and Cami's too-eager-to-gloss-things-over chirpiness telling her something else was definitely going on. Grace wasn't looking to be best pals with her Realtor, but she did wish Cami respected her intellect a little more. She'd been quite happy with how quickly Cami had moved everything through, even patting herself on the back for picking someone with Cami's extensive connections. But while Cami's family history was a strength when it came to making things happen, Grace was well aware those same connections could work against her if Cami got it in her mind that maybe Grace wasn't such a good fit for Blueberry Cove after all.

“Well, as I said, we'll be practically living on top of each other and, as someone with a vested interest in launching a new business in town and being part of the hoped-for growth potential for Half Moon Harbor that you spoke of, of course, I want to make sure it all goes as smoothly as possible. For everybody's sake. Win-win.” She tried to strike a balance between too-chirpy and giving away her true feelings, which were going to be a little more complicated than she'd initially thought. Maybe a lot more.

“Yes, well, as you said, all on the same page,” Cami echoed. “I'm so glad you called me so I could clear up any anxiety you might be feeling.”

If muddy waters are clear,
Grace thought.

“It's exciting, isn't it? This new project of yours. I hope you don't mind, I've already spread the word a little. I figure we fellow businesswomen should always support each other. Small towns are still such men's clubs, and this far up the coast, it can be even more retrograde, trust me.” She laughed in an overly bright way that made Grace wince a little and decide right then and there that no matter the stakes or people involved, she was personally all chirped out.

“If they only knew how easy they were to read, right?” Cami went on. “If we can't work over them, we just work our way right around them.”

Sort of like you just worked your way around Brodie.
Grace opened her mouth to make some kind of polite response and bring the conversation to a close. She was thankful for Cami's help in securing her inn property, but bosom businesswomen buddies wasn't where she saw things heading.

“Is it true you've retained Langston deVry as your architect?”

Whatever Grace might have said to end the conversation went right out the window. “I—how did you know I'd retained Langston?” She swore under her breath, realizing she'd confirmed Cami's query. But she had retained him, and that wasn't any kind of big secret . . . though she hadn't told a soul in Blueberry Cove about him as yet. In fact, she hadn't even mentioned his name since arriving in town.

“Oh, I don't even remember now.” Cami's perky voice took on an even higher chirpy note, indicating Grace's query had unnerved her a bit. Maybe she wasn't used to dealing with people who actually paid attention to what was being said. “Is he—Langston, I mean—will he be coming to the Cove soon, then?”

Every instinct Grace had went on full alert. There
was
more going on. She just had to figure out what, exactly. “He does such great work,” Grace said carefully, saccharine free. “I guess it's not surprising that you've heard of him. Do you know him personally, then?”

“As it happens, Langston is a good friend of my father's. They were Harvard men. Small world, right?”

Grace didn't think of Harvard grads as collectively being all that small a club, but she said nothing.

“With Langston's business being based out of Boston, they've lost touch over the years. You know how that is. When I mentioned it to Daddy, naturally he was excited about the prospect of seeing his old friend again.”

“I imagine so,” Grace said, still trying to figure out how Cami had even heard whom she'd hired, much less how Langston's connections to one of the Cove's oldest families might affect her plans. Now that Grace thought about it, she had taken a call from him while she'd been waiting for the loan papers to be drawn up. She'd probably said his first name when she'd answered the phone, but she'd been sitting alone by Sue's desk. Who would have overheard that or even cared, much less put two and two together to figure out who Langston was?
What the hell kind of town am I moving to?

The town where Ford lived. Ultimately, that was really all that mattered.

“I don't know what his plans are,” Grace cautioned, “or even if he'll make a stop personally.“