Sweetheart Cottage (Cranberry Bay #1) (5 page)

Bryan smiled. Neatness had never been his twin’s strength. As children, her room always won the messiest-room competition. She spent hours on Saturday mornings trying to clean it up.

“Mom will never move out,” Bryan said firmly. His mother would never leave the home where she’d raised her family and lived with their Dad. Lisa didn’t understand the connection a person could have with a place or a home, not after moving to Seattle where she and Maddie had lived in half-a-dozen apartments.

“You’re right,” Lisa said. “Mom is not going to want to accept help if she knows we’re trying to keep an eye on her. But maybe she will understand if you move in because of Maddie and me taking over the carriage house.”

Bryan rubbed his forehead. Mom would love to have Lisa and Maddie in Cranberry Bay. But how would she feel about him living in his old bedroom? She often said how much she enjoyed her own space after years of raising a large family. How would he feel about being back in his bedroom? The same bedroom where he’d once spent nights dreaming of Rylee Harper.

“Rylee Harper’s grandmother’s home is just a few streets over from Mom’s house.” Sawyer leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Yes.” Bryan eyed his brother.

“What does Rylee Harper have to do with this?” Lisa asked and frowned.

“Nothing,” Bryan said, not wanting to explain to his twin about the bet. He turned to Sawyer. “I’ll move in with Mom.”

“Thanks, brother.” Lisa hopped over the stool and put her arm around him. Maddie slid off her stool and sulked to the couch, where she crashed in a heap, as far away from Lauren as possible. Lauren scrunched up her eyes like she might cry. But before the tears started, a hardened look that seemed a lot like Maddie’s crossed her face.

Bryan frowned. The last thing he wanted was Maddie’s bad attitude rubbing off on Lauren. As soon as possible, he was going to pull his older niece aside and talk to her. He wanted Maddie to know she was a part of this family, no matter what.

The furnace hummed as Rylee dunked her peppermint tea bag in hot water. Raisin lay in front of the brightly burning gas fireplace. Occasionally, he raised his head to eye the tall, heavyset man who stood on a ladder beneath the hole in the plaster ceiling. Rylee carried her tea into the living room and nodded in satisfaction at the glowing table lamps, the dusted coffee table, and the freshly washed curtains. In the last three days, she’d been able to make a good deal of progress on the home. The utilities were all in her name. The gutters were clean. She’d even found an old mower in the garage and trimmed the front and backyards on a cold, but sunny afternoon. Once the ceiling plaster was fixed, she’d get the home on the market.

The only problem was getting someone to look at the leak in the ceiling. She’d placed calls to four different plumbers, and it’d taken over two days for anyone to return her call and schedule a time to come out to look at the house. This morning, when Jim arrived, he took one look at the plaster and shook his head; for the last two hours, he had been scouting around the house, checking the pipes in the two upstairs bathrooms, the kitchen, and under the home.

Jim stepped down from the ladder and jotted a few more notes on what looked like a full yellow tablet.

“How does it look?” Rylee smiled brightly.

“Not good.” He shook his head. “You’ve got a serious water leak, and these can be complicated.”

“How much is it going to cost?” Rylee set her teacup down on a colorful fabric coaster. She’d made the coasters with a small plastic loom. The loom was probably still tucked away in a box in the attic; it was one of the places she hadn’t been able to face yet.

“I’m still working out the cost,” Jim said, looking at the paper and frowning. “But I think we’re easily into a couple thousand dollars.”

“A couple thousand dollars.” Rylee gasped, running her hand through her hair.

“Sorry for the bad news. But water leaks in the plaster don’t just come from where they are dripping. In your case, it’s actually coming from the roof, but the water ran down the upstairs floorboards before it pooled in the corner over there and caused the plaster damage that you see.”

“The roof needs to be repaired too?” Rylee could barely find her voice.

“It looks like it.” Jim said. “At least on the left-hand side of the home.”

“How soon can someone start work on all of this? I’m hoping to get it on the market as soon as possible.”

Jim frowned. “I’ve got a couple great guys who can do the work, but they’re pretty backed up right now. The new beach grocery superstore is trying to open for the holidays, and the guys are working twenty-four seven. It’ll be at least early December before I can get anyone over here.”

“You’re telling me the work can’t even start until after Thanksgiving?”

“We can patch things up for you,” Jim said. “We want to get the roof fixed first, so you don’t have any more leaks. But the bulk of the interior work, tearing out the ceiling and taking care of the damage, yes, that will all have to wait until the first week of December.”

“I see,” Rylee said, trying to keep herself calm and her nerves steady. “And how long will everything take?”

Jim looked up to the ceiling. “As long as we don’t have any big storms that cause roof damage to people’s homes and pull the guys off the job here, I’d say we’re looking at about a two- to three-week time frame.”

“Two to three weeks.” Rylee mentally ran through the dates. “The work won’t be finished until just before Christmas.”

“That’s right, but,” Jim said, and smiled at her, “that’ll be perfect because people aren’t really looking to buy a house in the holiday season. You can get a good jump on the spring listings in January.”

“Yes,” Rylee muttered. “Perfect.” She had wanted to be out of Cranberry Bay by the end of the month; now it looked like she wouldn’t be able to even get the house on the market for two months. Her savings account would never stretch, let alone cover the repairs. She’d have to find a job and, most likely, take out a small home-equity loan to cover the repairs.

“Do you need some time to think about it?”

“No.” Rylee shook her head. The last thing she wanted was more delays. “Let’s go ahead and schedule. If you can take care of the roof now, I’ll wait until after Thanksgiving for the rest of the work.”

“Sure thing,” Jim said. “I’ll get the guys over here tomorrow morning, and we’ll get everything squared away for you.” He slipped the yellow tablet into his black bag and grabbed a thick black coat from the hall tree. “Nice place you have here. Too bad you’re selling. It looks like someone loved this house very much.”

“Yes,” Rylee said as an unexpected bubble of tears gathered in her throat. Her Grandparents weren’t the only ones who had loved this house. Cranberry Bay was her place of warmth, comfort, and family. But all that had changed. Now, with her Grandparents gone, she just wanted to sell the house and start over in a city where she could be anonymous, the way it had always been with her family.

“We’ll see you in the morning, bright and early.” Jim pulled open the door, and a gust of wind brought leaves dancing into the hallway.

With her left foot, Rylee pushed the leaves back onto the porch and shut the door behind Jim. She leaned against the wood and rubbed her eyes. Where would she find a job in Cranberry Bay? From the looks of what she’d seen so far, there wasn’t much in town for someone with a background in design or even a small job working as a clerk in a bustling shop. She stepped away from the door and walked to the end of the living room. Opening a small door, Rylee walked into her grandmother’s sewing room. White built-in shelves lined the walls. Colorful fabric was stacked neatly on the shelves. An old Singer sewing machine covered with a paisley cloth sat on a wooden table. A set of pillowcases was tucked into a large basket on the floor. Rylee picked up one of the pillowcases and ran her hands over the pale pink fabric. For as long as she could remember, Grandma always had a booth at the annual Cranberry Bay Holiday Craft Fair. Held in a small church, the fair was filled with local residents who hoped to buy a handcrafted item. As a child, she spent summers helping Grandma create small cloth-ornament dolls or green-and-red tree-skirts with festive sparkles.

A white flyer tossed haphazardly in the side of the basket caught Rylee’s eye. She reached in and read about a spring fabric sale at the New Leaf Sewing Shop. Had Grandma gone to the sale, or did she only hope to get there? Rylee noted the address as Main Street. It wouldn’t hurt to stop in and see if they knew of anyone who needed design work. Maybe there was no one in Cranberry Bay who wanted a commercial designer, but perhaps one of the hotels at the beach needed a redo of a few of their rooms or a front entry. She didn’t need a huge job, just something to tide her over for the next two months and pay for repairs.

Rylee stepped out of the room to find Raisin waiting at the door, his tail banging against the wall. She glanced outside. The wind still blew at a good clip, but the sun had come out.

“Come on, boy,” Rylee said, picking up his leather leash. “Let’s go for a walk.”

Fifteen minutes later, Rylee stood in front of the New Leaf Sewing Shop. The lights shone brightly, but she couldn’t see anyone working at the front counter. Pulling the door open, Rylee turned to Raisin and lifted her hand to her lips as if the dog would understand her. “Shh…don’t bark.”

A burst of laughter came from the back of the store. Four women were gathered around a long table with an assortment of pattern pieces and colorful fabric.

“I’m sorry.” Rylee stepped backward and pulled on Raisin’s leash. “I didn’t realize this was a private class.” Raisin didn’t budge. He wagged his tail and let out a sharp bark, as if to say hello. Mortified, Rylee jerked his leash and pulled him toward the door.

A tall, slender woman stepped out from behind the table. She wore a long, colorful brown-and-tan striped knit skirt and a matching cream sweater. “Welcome to New Leaf. I’m Katie Coos, the owner. Excuse me for not greeting you when you came in. The apron club is a little excited about our project this week,” She smiled brightly at Rylee. “How can I help you?”

Katie Coos. The name was instantly familiar to Rylee. “You probably don’t remember me. But I used to visit my Grandma. We stopped by the scrapbook and paper shop at least once a week, sometimes more if I could convince Grandma.” She laughed to herself. “I had so many craft and business ideas. I think Grandma was always glad to see me leave at the end of the summer, so she could rest.”

“Rylee Harper!” Katie said, and smiled. “Mom wanted me to be just like you, and I didn’t want anything to do with the scrapbook shop. I only wanted to play softball and swim in the river.”

“And now you own this place.”

“Yes.” Katie’s face darkened, and her eyes dropped to the floor. “Mom got sick and couldn’t keep up. I took the store over, but,” she shrugged, “scrapbooking never was my thing. I’ve always loved fabrics and textiles, and once I figured out how to sew, well…” Katie looked up, her eyes shining bright. “Here we are.”

“And she has one of the best shops in the northern part of Oregon. People come from all over to purchase her fabric and special order.” A dark-haired woman spoke as she cut into fabric, carefully following a pinned pattern.

Katie shook her head, but a smile tucked into her lips. “Friends. What would we do without them?”

Rylee’s chest ached as she thought of her best friend. She believed Ericka would have stood up for her no matter what, but that hadn’t happened.

“I’m looking for work.” Rylee pushed the sharply painful memories away. She cleared her throat. Her palms felt damp, and she resisted wiping them on her jeans. She gave Raisin’s leash a tight little tug. He looked up and leaned into her left leg, sensing she needed comfort. As a top designer in Vegas, she’d grown accustomed to not looking for work. Now, she felt awkward and uncomfortable, but she didn’t have any choice. Rylee squared her shoulders and faced Katie. “I wondered if you knew of anyone who might want a designer.”

“No. I’m sorry.” Katie turned to the women gathered around the table behind her. “Ivy? Gracie? Sasha? Do you know of anyone looking for a designer?”

“I wish,” Gracie said. “The River Rock Inn could use a new look in the rooms. But,” she shrugged, “it’s not exactly like business is booming in Cranberry Bay.”

“I would love help at the bakery, too.” Sasha’s piercing dark eyes darted to Rylee and then back to Katie. “But I can’t afford to hire anyone. Tiffany comes in on weekends, and I rope Tyler into helping me package up some of the mass orders for the sports team celebrations.” She smiled at Raisin. “But I do have one ten-year-old boy who would love to walk your dog if you need someone.”

“Thank you.” Rylee took a step backward and tugged on Raisin’s leash. “I’ll remember the offer.”

“I’m afraid I don’t need help either,” Ivy said from the left-hand corner of the table. “The antique shop isn’t exactly booming these days. Old items from attics and garages barely cover the bills. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.” Rylee fiddled with Raisin’s leash. “I’m sorry to have interrupted your sewing club.” Don’t give up, she told herself. This was just the first stop. She didn’t expect to find a job immediately. In the morning, she’d drive over to some of the towns along the coast and look for design work in the beach hotels.

“Wait.” Katie said. “If you’d like to sew, we’d love for you to join the sewing club. We’re just beginning this month’s apron pattern.”

“I do sew,” Rylee said, thinking of the bolts of unused fabric sitting in her grandmother’s sewing room and the sewing machine. “But…” Her mind raced for an excuse. She wasn’t in Cranberry Bay to make connections. She planned to take care of business and leave.

Before she could find the words, the bell on the shop tinkled and a woman called out, “Hello. Katie? Sasha?”

“Lisa!” In a smattering of excited voices and hugs, the four women rushed forward and engulfed the tall, thin woman at the door. As the group’s voices rose in chatter, Rylee stared past the woman to Bryan standing behind her. He smiled broadly at her.

“I was hoping I might find you here,” Bryan said, stepping around Lisa and into the shop. “I thought I might ask a favor.”

“Yes?” Rylee tried to control her beating heart, which sped up every time she saw Bryan. The tone of his voice reminded her of how well he could charm her. She vowed not to let it happen this time.

“Well,” Bryan said, smiling his boyish grin at her. “I hope this isn’t too forward. But your grandfather had a lot of great car tools. My brother collects vintage cars. I’d like to stop by and take a look at your grandfather’s tool collection. That is, if you didn’t have something else you were doing with it.”

Rylee took a step backward as Bryan stepped closer to her. “I don’t have anything else I’m doing with it. I didn’t really know the collection was still in the garage.” She swallowed hard. She wanted so badly to lean against him and feel his arms around her. She wanted to press her cheek against his scratchy shirt and hear the beating of his heart. In his arms, she always felt safe and protected.

“I could stop by one day this week?”

“Yes.” A memory flashed across her mind of Bryan working with her grandfather in the garage, wearing his cut-off shorts and tank top. She flushed thinking of how she’d been so enamored with him in those teenage summer days. Who was she kidding? She was still affected by him. The only difference was she wasn’t a teenage girl, and she could control her emotions. She hoped.