Last Chance Harbor (4 page)

Music to her ears, she thought now, as she closed the door on the car and stood at the curb staring at the renovation—the sooner the ugly duckling phase was behind them, the sooner the gorgeous swan could emerge. Julianne understood that, understood transformations.

Stepping through the main entrance, ever mindful of the school’s long history, she took the time to consider how many students had walked through these same doors. Her breath hitched at the realization of the huge job she’d taken on.

Bawdy language sailed down the hallway and mingled with eardrum-busting grunge rock. Conversations flew back and forth about how to get rid of a block of concrete. The men were in the process of knocking down walls and destroying the floors. To her, they seemed to be having the time of their lives. Much like her students did at recess.

She went in search of Logan and found him in the auditorium along with several of his crewmembers. But as she stood there looking around at the powder of dust coating what had once been a large stage, she couldn’t help but marvel at what a tremendous space it was. She pictured the amphitheater crammed to capacity. Parents and teachers would come to watch the cast of
A Christmas Carol
recite their lines. Going over a list of all the plays and programs in her head that they could put on here, she saw potential, even among the mess. It would be a perfect place for years to come where they could hold band concerts and talent shows and savor the community spirit she yearned to foster.

Daydreaming, Julianne had no idea she’d drawn the attention of every male on site. When she finally realized she was the center of attention and that every eye had landed on her, she suddenly felt self-conscious. She had the presence of mind to stick out a hand in greeting.

Every one of them grinned and waved back, but it was Logan who joined her below what used to be the orchestra pit.

“This is a surprise. What are you doing here?”

Julianne beamed at him. “I stayed away until now. But I just had to see what you’d done so far. I know it seems I’m anxious but I couldn’t come to Pelican Pointe without checking it out.”

Logan threw his arms out wide. “What did I tell you guys? Expect visitors to drop by on a daily basis just to check up on our progress. Unannounced.”

“Oops,” Julianne said in embarrassment. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize. Before you got here I was just explaining to the guys how we’d likely have to beat off volunteers with a stick once we get down to refinishing this place. I’m glad you’re here. You can provide your input now or whenever you want to drop by. Let us know how best to recycle what was here.”

“You mean like desks? That sounds perfect.”

“Desks and other things like light fixtures, tables and chairs. I tracked down the man who salvaged most of the inner furnishings, still lives on the outskirts of town. Cleef Atkins is his name, has to be in his eighties. Anyway, the man has most of the original stuff in his barn collecting cobwebs.”

“Oh Logan, you’re a wonder. Leave it to you to find out what happened to what was here. I would love to be a part of that. Count me in.”

“Hey, it’s all about upcycling what we can to keep costs down.”

“I also wanted to see if there’s any word yet on the accreditation while I’m here.”

“Nick obtained a temporary accreditation from the state board of education. They’ll audit us throughout the school year to see how we adhere to the curriculum and standards they set.” Logan glanced around. “Sorry about all the dust. But you’d better get used to it or grab one of those masks we keep by the main door to prevent breathing in so much of it. We need to get you a hardhat.”

“Oh. Well.”

All at once she felt a plastic helmet shoved into her belly. Her head turned to see one of the men, tall and lean, standing next to her.

“It’s heavier than it looks,” Julianne commented after gripping the bump cap in her hand and awkwardly plunking the thing on top of her head.

“Heavy, but necessary,” Ryder stressed to their visitor as he adjusted the hat down over her mahogany-colored hair. “Especially since you’re standing where the plaster may come down on your head at any moment,” he added.

“This is Ryder McLachlan, one of the talented guys who’ll be turning this place into your state-of-the-art school. Ryder this is Julianne Dickinson, the soon-to-be principal,” Logan explained.

“The principal?” Ryder’s eyebrows raised a good inch or two.

Logan grinned at his reaction. “Yeah, not really like any principal I ever had either.”

“There’s a compliment in there somewhere,” Julianne reasoned as she held out her hand to Ryder. She met the man’s ocean-blue eyes with a wide smile and did her best not to stare at his strong jawline and his coal-black hair that curled up at the ends.

“Thanks for taking on this disaster area. I’m hoping your skill will help turn it from the relic of the fifties into the ultramodern vision I have for it.”

She was the vision, thought Ryder. Wide chocolate eyes with little vanilla flecks floating around the edges stared back at him, giving off a doe-eyed innocence. His eyes darted to the little brunette’s left hand. Her ring finger was bare. Of course, that didn’t mean anything he reminded himself—and thought of Bethany. That put the kibosh on his attraction. When he noticed Logan was talking to him, he pulled out of his daze, feeling like an idiot. When would he ever learn?

“But hey, why don’t you give Julianne the tour of the areas we’ve gutted so far, show her the blueprints. Maybe get her take on the layout we’re planning.”

“Me? Why me?”

“Because you have better manners than Drake or Paul in mixed company. And Zach and Troy are in the back unloading a shipment of dry wall and flooring,” Logan returned easily.

“Ah, okay.” Ryder steered her away from the auditorium slash cafeteria to the front of the building where the administrative offices would get a revamp. He figured the woman should at least get a good look at where she planned to spend most of her day.

His principal certainly hadn’t resembled Julianne Dickinson. Not even close. As Ryder recalled Mr. Pointer had possessed a big nose to go with his pot belly and a mean streak toward boys who broke the rules. Even in fourth grade, Ryder had a tendency to break the rules. Which meant he had done all he could to avoid landing on Mr. Pointer’s radar.

He looked over at the pretty brunette walking beside him. “I was just thinking about my own days spent in the principal’s office. You look nothing like beak-nosed Mr. Pointer.”

She stifled a chuckle. “Ah, and what did Mr. Pointer look like?”

“Mean, with beady eyes. I’m sure he was into something seedy and sinister. Of course, that’s the take of a ten-year-old who was usually in trouble for something or other. I’ve matured since then.”

This time she burst into a laugh. “Oh, I can see you’ve moved on.”

“You’re much too young to be a principal,” Ryder observed. “You must be coming from another school.” Okay, that might’ve been one of the dumbest things he’d said to a female since sixth grade. Why all of a sudden did he feel like the biggest half-wit within seventy-five miles?

“I’m from Santa Cruz. And right now I teach first grade.” Inexplicably nervous, she went on, “I think they gave me the job because my experience is with young children. And let’s face it. Pelican Pointe is brimming with a good many kids enrolled in kindergarten and first grade for the fall classes. But that’s a good thing because they’ll get to progress together year after year for the duration they’re here. It’s the upper grades, fifth and sixth, that we’re having trouble filling out and which may prevent us from becoming the public facility we want. And you probably don’t want to know any of this,” Julianne huffed out.

“On the contrary, anything that pertains to the school is our priority-one for the next six months.”

“Then I’ll need a place to do interviews. I’d like to take the potential candidates on a walk-through of the place, have them get a feel for how wonderful it’s going to be.”

He took out the schematics, went over the design. “How about setting you up right about here, near the side door for now, so you can have easy access during business hours?”

“That’ll work.”

“Will you be disappointed if it turns out the school becomes a private institution?”

“Not at all.”

About that time, someone shouted, “Hey, Ryder, over here. Look what I found.”

Ryder wheeled around and stared at Troy who held out a rectangular, wooden box about fifteen-inches long and eight-inches wide.

“What is it? Where’d you get that?”

“I found it under a pile of bricks near an interior wall we knocked down. See how beat up the top is. According to the old drawings it was in the area that used to be a classroom, third-grade, I think.”

“Julianne, this is Troy.”

“Hi,” she said with a tilt of her head, studying the man toting the mini trunk. But it was the ornate carvings on the rounded lid that held her attention. “Could it have been hidden in a wall all this time? Is that even possible?”

Ryder tapped the layout of the master plan they’d been poring over. “Could be, or it was tucked away in one of the lockers that lined the front hallway, right about here. This building sat vacant for so long, anyone could’ve walked in at any time and stuffed it there for safekeeping.”

“What do you suppose is in it?” Julianne wanted to know. “Looks like a miniature treasure chest, doesn’t it?” She reached to touch, ran her hand across the top. “And check out the tiny ceramic inlay along the sides, beautiful work.”

Troy grinned. “A treasure chest was my first thought, too. It was the decorative insets that caught my eye underneath all the rubble.”

“Maybe it contains gold doubloons,” Julianne cracked, eyeing the intricate turquoise design around the sides. “This woodwork took some time to create.”

Troy had thought the same thing.

“Wouldn’t that be something if it had treasure in it? Did you open it up yet?” Ryder asked.

“Nah, I didn’t look, but Logan went through it already. There are some old papers, a few photographs. Some of them are class pictures. You know, like the ones you take as a group with your classmates and teacher.”

Julianne smiled again. “Lined up by height with the tall kids either sitting in chairs in front or standing in the back, lording their height over all the short kids.”

Her sense of humor made Ryder laugh. “Let me guess, you represented the short stack down in front.”

“You got it. And you probably led the pack in the back.” She turned to Troy. “Both of you did. What are you going to do with the box?”

“Logan said since you’re the principal I should give it to you.”

“Me?”

“Yep. He said you might want to use it to display in the trophy case for later. You know, like those time capsules they dig up. Some of those pictures are really old. Here,” Troy said, pushing the mementoes toward the teacher.

“What a cool idea,” Julianne agreed, latching onto the dusty box. “I’ll plan on doing just that whenever the school opens. I’ll make sure to put the relic of a box where everyone will see it, too.”

O
nce Julianne left the construction site, she made a right on Ocean Street so she could check out the cottages and bungalows in the neighborhood. Creeping along at a crawl, she took out her phone to make notes. Whether or not the property was for sale didn’t matter. She had a habit of pulling over to admire the lawns or the front porches or the architecture of anything that caught her eye. She could always find something interesting to appreciate in other people’s tastes or eclectic styles. Besides, she knew what she liked.

She didn’t often get to splurge on her decorating ideas though, at least not on her meager teacher’s salary—even if she did have a knack for finding discarded things and fixing them up for resale. In fact, it was one of the ways she managed to stretch her paycheck from month to month with a second income. It’s one of the reasons she drove the van, a 1967 refurbished minibus, she used to haul around her finds.

Not many people appreciated old things that could be upcycled. Julianne did. Thank goodness, Danny Panguino, a mechanic and her longtime boyfriend had, too. She remembered the day Danny had found the Volkswagen in the middle of a salvage yard, rusted out and needing a second chance, or maybe a third.