Wind Chime Café (A Wind Chime Novel) (18 page)

“It is,” Will said, chuckling. “Your teacher caught the biggest fish of the day.”

Will squeezed Annie’s shoulders, and looked back at Taylor. “Maybe your mom would let me take you both out fishing sometime.”

Annie looked down at Taylor, who was gazing up at Will excitedly. “Can we go, mom?”

“We’ll see,” Annie said.

Will smiled, that slow easy smile that made her stomach flip-flop. He leaned down so his lips were only a breath away from her ear. “We’ll see,” he whispered, running his hand slowly down her back, “is almost a yes.”

W
ill didn’t get to take Annie and Taylor out fishing that week because the winds picked up and whipped white caps over the Bay for six solid days leading up to Halloween. Gray clouds blanketed the sky on the last day of October as Will walked into the kitchen at the inn, taking two cold beers from the fridge and handing one to Jimmy Faulkner. “How bad is it?”

Jimmy took the beer, twisting the top off and taking a long pull. “I’m not going to lie to you, Will. It’s pretty bad.”

Will looked out the window, where the branches of the trees bent in the strong gusts blowing across the yard. “How much are we talking about?”

“Eighty grand. Maybe more.”

“Shit.”

Jimmy strolled over to the sliding doors, running a hand over the curve in the wood at the top. “We could do some cosmetic patchwork, shore up the foundation a few inches. Hope the inspectors don’t catch it.” He walked out to the porch, lifting a rotted floorboard with his steel-toe boot. “But this entire porch needs to be replaced, and the roof is at least three years overdue to be re-shingled. I’m surprised it hasn’t already started leaking.”

It had, Will thought. It had started dripping in the attic the night before. He knew because he’d been lying awake in the room directly below when the storm had hit. The rain had only lasted an hour, but the dripping had gone on all night.

“How did the open house go?” Jimmy asked, letting the floorboard fall back into place.

“Not well,” Will admitted.

Despite Spencer’s protests, Will had hosted an open house for the inn a few days ago. He’d posted signs along the road and ran an ad in the local paper. But only one couple had shown up, and they hadn’t been serious about buying.

“I heard you got an offer from a resort company,” Jimmy said, strolling back into the kitchen.

Will nodded.

Jimmy leaned against the counter, taking another long sip of his beer. “You should consider taking it.”

“You think I should take it?” Will asked, surprised.

“It could mean a lot of work for my crew.”

Will set his beer down. “Morningstar wouldn’t hire a local crew to do the work. They’d bring in a team from the Western Shore, a big company with a national reputation.”

“To do the initial building, sure,” Jimmy agreed. “But after that there’d be regular maintenance and repairs, renovations they might want to hire a local contractor to complete.”

The wind battered the windows, snatching leaves from the branches of the trees. Will walked slowly over to the sliding glass doors leading out to the porch, dipping his hands in his pockets. Were there others who felt the same way Jimmy did, that the resort would bring jobs and opportunities to the island?

He knew Grace and Ryan were against it; they wanted to preserve the land for the islanders and the wildlife. Becca had been fairly neutral on the subject, and Della had said she’d support him in whatever decision he made.

The only people he knew wanted the resort to come here were Annie, Spencer, and Chase. But maybe there were others who hadn’t spoken up because they were afraid to, because they didn’t want to upset their friends and neighbors.

Surely, the owners of the shops on Main Street would benefit from an increase in tourism. The charter boat captains would have more people to take out on fishing trips. Even the watermen would benefit from a spike in the number of people who’d want to spend their weekends eating crabs and oysters they purchased straight from the docks.

Right now, there was more money on the table than he’d ever dreamed of making off his grandparents’ inn. He didn’t really need the money. He made a comfortable salary. His apartment in San Diego was subsidized by the military. He didn’t have any debt, and he’d built up a decent savings over the past ten years.

His retirement, if he made it to retirement, would be taken care of by the Navy. When the time came to make room for younger, faster guys on the teams, he’d planned to move into consulting and work for one of the firms who hired former operatives to carry out missions on a contract basis.

But if he took the money the resort company was offering, he wouldn’t have to take on contract work after he retired. He could buy a big house on the beach in San Diego and spend his free time surfing and fishing. But what was the point in having a big house if you didn’t have anyone to share it with? What was the point in having a yard if you didn’t have any kids or at least a dog to play in it?

All he wanted was to sell his grandparents’ house to a family who would restore the inn to its glory and care as much about the land and the islanders as their own profit margins. But he only had two weeks left to find a buyer. His time on the island was running out. He knew he couldn’t trust Spencer to find the right person after he left. He could hire another agent, but what if it took years for another offer to come along? What if the perfect buyer didn’t even exist?

How long was he going to hold onto this place, letting it rot down here at the end of the island, with the salt and the winds eating away at the siding?

Maybe all he had to do was sign on the dotted line and everyone would be better off.

Will looked back out the windows as a cluster of sailboats rounded a red buoy in the distance. Their white sails whipped in the wind as they picked up speed, heading back to one of the country clubs hosting the Friday night races. All he had to do was reach into his pocket, pull out his cell phone and give Spencer the word.

He could go back to San Diego, say goodbye to this house and this place forever.

He should just do it, make the call, get it over with.

A flock of barn swallows wheeled and dipped over the lawn, their high-pitched trills rising over the wind. Why couldn’t he bring himself to do it?

“How do they
feel?” Annie asked, adjusting Taylor’s butterfly wings. “Too tight?”

Taylor flapped her elbows, testing the elastic straps around her arms. “They feel fine.”

She could hear the excitement in her daughter’s voice. They were downstairs in the café, waiting for Della, who’d insisted on coming with them trick-or-treating tonight. Taylor was wearing all black, with bright orange wings attached to her shoulders. A black headband with black pipe-cleaner antennae held her hair back from her face.

“There,” Annie said, putting the finishing touches on her wings as Della rushed in wearing an elaborate witch costume and carrying a broom just like Taylor’s.

“Sorry I’m late,” Della said, pausing in the doorway when her gaze landed on Annie. “Why aren’t you dressed up?”

Annie pulled a pair of cat ears from her back pocket and stuck them on her head. “I almost forgot.”

“
That’s
your costume?” Della asked, her expression dismayed.

“What?” Annie asked, adjusting the ears and looking down at her black top and dark jeans. “I’m a cat.”

“You could have put a little more effort into it.”

Annie bit back a smile. When Della had said she was dressing up as a witch earlier, Annie had figured that meant she’d be wearing a pointy black hat over a sweatshirt and jeans, not a costume that looked as if it had taken months to put together.

Annie dug in her purse for a black eyeliner pencil, swiping it across her cheeks to add whiskers. “Better?”

Della huffed out a breath and turned to Taylor, smiling broadly. “Now
that
is a costume!”

Taylor giggled as Della took her hands, twirling her around to admire her wings.

“Where’s Joe?” Annie asked, peering out on the porch to look for Della’s husband. After hearing that some of the kids were making fun of Taylor at school, he had offered to join them tonight and act as a buffer.

Joe Dozier was six-foot-three and over two hundred pounds of solid muscle. Born and raised on Heron Island, he had spent most of his life hauling his living from the Bay. When he wasn’t on the water, he was fighting fires with the volunteer fire department or helping out Jimmy Faulkner on his construction crew.

He had the shoulders of a linebacker, a deep gravelly voice that commanded authority, and he didn’t take crap from anyone.

Della batted at a cluster of leaves that blew into the room with her broom. “He overheard a few of the middle-school kids plotting a prank earlier. He’s trying to track down Don Thompson to warn him.”

“What are they planning to do?” Annie asked. She was used to kids playing pranks on Halloween. In D.C., most of the little kids went trick-or-treating before dark, so they didn’t get caught in the teenagers’ mischief. Heron Island was such a small community, she’d assumed the parents would keep a tight leash on their kids tonight. She hadn’t given the pranksters much thought.

Della swept out the last of the leaves. “Don was storing the leftover fireworks from the Fourth of July celebration in his garage. They’re planning to set them off tonight.”

Annie’s gaze snapped up. “Fireworks?”

Della nodded.

“Did you find Don to warn him?”

“His truck was gone. We think he might have gone into St. Michaels to run an errand. Joe’s trying to track down the kids.” Della smiled at Taylor, snagging her candy bag off the hook by the door and holding it out to her. “Are you ready?”

Taylor nodded excitedly, picking up her broom.

“Wait,” Annie said. She didn’t want to keep Taylor from trick-or-treating, but she also didn’t want her to mistake the sound of a firework going off for a gunshot. “Do the middle-school kids have the fireworks?”

“Don’s garage door was open,” Della answered. “There’s a pretty good chance they already took them.”

Annie looked out at the dark streets. Children dressed in costumes were already starting to wander up and down the sidewalks. “Where will they set them off?”

“They’ll probably take one of their father’s boats out. Don’t worry,” she said when she caught Annie’s worried expression. “Joe called the Fire Chief. He and a few of the guys are searching the docks now to see if any of the boats are missing. They’ll find them soon.”

Annie hesitated. She knew she couldn’t protect Taylor from every loud noise. She wouldn’t be there to hold her hand every time an engine backfired or thunder struck. But Halloween could be a scary holiday. She hadn’t given enough thought to the older kids who would be dressed as ghosts and skeletons, the teenagers who would jump out from behind dark corners to scare the younger children.

“Taylor,” she said, kneeling down so they were eye-to-eye. “You know the sound a firework makes when it goes off?”

Taylor nodded.

“If you hear that sound tonight, I want you to look up at the sky. I want you to look for the fireworks.” If she could get Taylor to focus on the beautiful sparkly display in the sky, instead of on the sounds and the terrible memories they could stir up, they might be able to make it through the night.