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“I have to be honest,” she continued, “I didn’t think much of the town ’til I saw the lighthouse. You’d love Mavis Freeman. She’s been running things since her husband died three years ago, but they still call her the keeper’s widow. The house is full of antiques, including her, and I’m convinced she’s memorized the history of every ship that ever went by.”
“You’ve got a love of the sea running through your blood. I’m not sure you remember, but one of my ancestors was a sea captain. Seamus O’Connell was his name.”
“I researched him. He was a pirate, and when the British finally caught him, they hanged him.”
“That may be true, but he still loved the sea. I’m sure that’s where you get it from.”
Thankfully, a beep alerted Bree that she had another call. When she checked the ID, her heart tripped over itself with the alarming combination of excitement and dread that had become all too familiar lately. “My editor’s trying to reach me, Mom. I’ll call you in the morning.”
“I’ll be here!”
Bree said goodbye and switched over to the other call. “Hello, Nick. What can I do for you?”
“Just making sure you got up there in one piece.”
Her intuition was sizzling, which meant there was more to this call than a simple check-in. Not long ago she’d have confronted him directly, but these days she was playing things a little closer to the vest. If she’d done that before, she’d still be working at her dream job in Boston.
She wasn’t thrilled about being flung so far down the ladder, and hopefully being more reserved would keep her from tumbling out of the business altogether. “My connecting flight was delayed, and the bus took a while, but I got here around noon.”
“Good. How’s everyone treating you?”
“Very well, thanks.” While she could tell he was fishing, she had no idea what he was angling for. “Is there anything in particular you want me to include in my article?”
“Lots of local color, anything unique that catches your eye. You’re not from there, so you should be able to pick up on things that’ll appeal to visitors. I want you to paint a great picture of Holiday Harbor so our readers can’t wait to book a ticket up there.”
After getting a few more similarly vague instructions, it dawned on Bree that her questions were too subtle. Despite her vow to be more reserved, she broke down and went the direct route. “What am I really doing here? I mean, it’s quaint and charming and all, but ‘sleepy little town’ is an understatement. The best article in the world won’t change that, and I can’t see why you’d pay me to come all this way to write about this place.”
“Cooper didn’t tell you?”
“Only that you grew up here.”
Nick chuckled. “Yes, I graduated a couple years after Cooper. He tutored me for a while, and without him I never would’ve gotten accepted at New York University. Anyway, when he asked me if Kaleidscope could do the town a favor, I was happy to help. We do have a national audience these days, you know.”
Nick had a reputation for being tightfisted, and she’d picked up on something totally unlike him. “So they’re not paying you to promote Holiday Harbor?”
“Nope.”
Nick had hired her to do a story that wouldn’t financially benefit his business? To her, that was a foreign concept. “That’s generous of you.”
“Hey, we do what we can, y’know?”
Actually, she didn’t know. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d met someone she honestly admired, but it seemed her prospective new boss fell into that category. She heard a smothering sound, then Nick’s voice came back full volume. “There’s a problem with tomorrow’s layout, so I have to run. Do a stellar job on this, Bree. There’s a lot of good people counting on you.”
The line went dead, and Bree shut her own phone off. Tapping it against her chin, she gazed out at the water, lulled by the rhythm of the waves crashing on the rocks. The sun played over the spray, forming minirainbows here and there in the mist. With the weathered lighthouse as a backdrop, it was a remarkable sight.
In spite of her earlier skepticism, Bree reflected on the possibility that her mother could be right. Maybe the old pirate’s love of the ocean was getting to her after all.
Chapter Three
On his way back out to the lighthouse later that afternoon, Cooper congratulated himself on a successful residential closing. Granddad had always handled those, so Cooper hadn’t done one in a while. Fortunately the two real estate agents knew their stuff, and all he’d had to do was dot the i’s and cross the t’s for his client. Before long another young family would be calling Holiday Harbor home. It was a great way to end what had become an interesting day.
Bree Farrell fascinated him. At a young age he’d learned to read people, mostly by shutting up and listening to them talk. During long days on the water Granddad had taught him to watch the fish closely, reading their movements to predict where they were headed. You could do the same with people, he’d explained, interpreting their body language as well as their words to get a clear picture of how they actually felt. That skill came in handy when their behavior contradicted what they were saying.
Based on what he’d seen so far, Bree was fighting a bigger battle than she was admitting to. Despite her bravado, he saw the uncertainty in her dark eyes, muting the spark of intelligence that managed to snap through frequently enough to intrigue him. Fortunately she’d be leaving soon. All he had to do was get through the Fourth, and she’d be on her way back to Richmond.
It was better that way, he knew. He’d once gotten in way too deep with a woman committed to her career, and her rejection of his marriage proposal still stung. He had no intention of making the same mistake again.
As he pulled in at the lighthouse, he shoved those old regrets to the back of his mind. Someday, when he finally had time to get back into the dating scene, it would be with someone down-to-earth who loved the ocean as much as he did.
When he got to the end of the drive, he was surprised to find Bree waiting for him on the front stoop. He was even more surprised to see her scratching Reggie behind his ears, while the little pig grunted in delight.
“That’s not something you see every day,” Cooper teased as he stepped down.
Eyes twinkling with humor, she pointed a threatening finger at him. “If you tell a single soul I like this little oinker, I’ll sue you for defamation of character.”
“Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.”
“You’re a lawyer. Don’t you lie for a living?”
He knew she was joking, but her accusation brought up more memories he’d rather leave buried in the past. Reminding himself she had no way of knowing that, he took a deep breath and let it go. “Never to pretty ladies sitting on porches. Besides, it’s not your fault. Reggie’s a shameless flirt.”
“He sure is.”
Chucking him under the chin, she made kissing noises but stopped short of actually delivering one. Obviously smitten, the pig closed his eyes and gave her his version of a smile, wagging his tail for good measure. It was one of the cutest things Cooper had ever seen. He’d take a picture, but he suspected Bree would toss his phone in the water to destroy the evidence. Still it was oddly comforting to know there was a soft heart under all that bluster. Recalling his earlier musings about the pretty reporter, he firmly put the brakes on that train of thought. She was here to do a job, and that was it. With a sharp mind and a tongue to match, she was the kind of woman who could drive a man crazy with no effort at all.
“The crews should be coming in about now,” he said. “Are you ready to go?”
“Definitely.”
As she shouldered her camera bag and stood up, the breeze ruffled through the long curls she’d left loose around her shoulders. She was dressed head to toe in black like a pint-size burglar, and he couldn’t help grinning. While full-on black might be appropriate for life in Richmond, here she’d stand out like a sore thumb.
Apparently he was staring a little too intently, because she frowned and glanced down at her trousers. “Am I covered in pig hair or something?”
“No. Why?”
“Usually when people grin like that, they’re making fun.”
She didn’t say “of me,” but Cooper easily filled in the blank. Seeing the hesitance in her eyes, he wouldn’t even think of suggesting she change her clothes. So she’d stand out. So what? With her striking looks and fearless demeanor, he had the feeling she’d turn heads no matter what she was wearing.
“Not me,” he assured her. “I’m looking forward to spending the evening with you, so I smiled. I promise not to do it again.”
A grateful smile brightened her features, transforming them with the pixie look he’d glimpsed earlier when she’d briefly let down her guard. It made her seem much younger, and he could envision her as a fresh-faced journalist, eager to take on the world before it turned against her. What had she been like back then? he wondered.
Realizing he’d ventured into dangerous territory, he pushed the emotion aside and smiled as he motioned her toward the car. “After you.”
“Why did you put the top and doors back on?” she asked when he opened the passenger side for her.
“Earlier today I got the feeling you didn’t appreciate the open-air look.”
“You didn’t have to do this for me. I’m not that picky.”
Did anyone ever go out of their way for her? Cooper wondered as he started the engine. His guess would be no, which explained her fierce independent streak. Being a lifelong New Englander, he’d always admired self-reliance. But for some reason thinking that Bree had no choice other than to fend for herself really bothered him.
Shrugging it off, he headed for the wharf. “I talked to some of the captains, and they’re thrilled that you’re coming down.”
“I wish you hadn’t done that. I prefer to do candid interviews.”
“Trust me,” Cooper told her with a chuckle. “These guys have been out on the water for twelve hours. You’re better off giving them a chance to clean up a little before you meet them.”
After a moment she admitted, “Okay. That makes sense.”
While they chatted about nothing in particular, Cooper’s opinion of her continued to improve. Her queries were thoughtful and out of the box, and she asked things most visitors didn’t consider important. Were the crews local or from elsewhere? Full-time or day laborers? Were the docks maintained by the town or the county? How many women worked on the crews?
With each question she asked him, his confidence in her abilities grew. Many in town—himself included—had questioned the wisdom of promoting Holiday Harbor to random outsiders. Their debate had revolved around the best way to accomplish their goals without being viewed as a joke or a tourist trap.
Cooper was now convinced that Bree was perfect for the job. It didn’t take a genius to figure out she had something to prove, not only to her editor, but to herself. He sensed that she’d do whatever it took to write an exceptional article and show Nick she could handle any challenge he wanted to throw at her.
Cooper was only too glad to help her do it.
When they arrived at the busy waterfront, every boat, from two-man skiff to commercial lobster boat, was tied up in port. Judging by the relative cleanliness of the crews, the captains had passed Cooper’s message along over their radios and ordered everyone to clean up before coming ashore. They wouldn’t pass muster for a night at the Metropolitan Opera, but they’d all made an effort to spiff up after their long, grueling day.
As he and Bree made their way down the ramp, she pulled a steno pad and pen out of the front pocket of her camera bag.
Cooper chuckled. “Going old school, huh?”
“Some people don’t trust technology.” Casting a glance down the dock, she smiled. “I’m guessing these guys will feel more comfortable with me if I take notes the old-fashioned way.”
When they reached the landing, he stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Hang on a minute.”
She opened her mouth to say something just as one of the veteran crewmen announced, “Off with your hats, fellas.”
They all removed their caps, lowering their heads as he continued. “Heavenly Father, we thank You for a beautiful day free of breakdowns and injuries. We pray the catch in our holds brings us a good price so we can afford to keep working the sea we love. In Your name we pray. Amen.”
Cooper echoed the sentiment and caught Bree’s look of surprise from the corner of his eye. “Something wrong?”
“No, I just didn’t expect to hear a sermon on the dock.”
“Their jobs are incredibly dangerous,” he explained patiently. “It’s important for them to know they’re not alone out there on the water.”
Still looking perplexed, she let the subject drop, and he stepped back to give her the spotlight. While she introduced herself to the fishermen, he marveled again at her ability to make people feel at ease. Everyone but him, it seemed. Unfortunately he still hadn’t figured out why.
“So tell me,” Bree addressed the oldest captain, a sixty-something old salt fondly referred to as Cap’n Jack. “What’s the biggest threat to your business these days?”
“Them over there.” Nodding toward a chartered fishing yacht, he scowled. “These rich guys plow into our fishing lanes and scare off half the catch. They just want to come back with something to stuff and mount over the fireplace in their den. But this is how we make our living and take care of our families.”
She cocked her head as if considering her response, but Cooper wouldn’t be surprised to learn she had most of her questions memorized. “They spend money here in town, though, at the hotels and restaurants. If they stop coming, how would you replace it?”
“Dunno.” His leathery face cracked into a scowl he aimed in Cooper’s direction. “Ask our new mayor.”
“You don’t approve of the job Mayor Landry’s doing?”
“No, missy, I don’t. Nothing against Cooper, o’course,” he added in a grudging half apology. “It’s just I don’t see the need to change things that’ve been workin’ the way they are for generations.”
There was some grumbled agreement, and Cooper carefully kept his expression neutral. All these men liked him well enough, but to them he was still wet behind the ears and in need of seasoning. The fact that Granddad was gone had no bearing on their opinions. They wanted the judge, and barring that, they wanted the town to continue running the way he’d done it for the past twenty years. Period, end of story.
“Aw, lay off, Jack,” one of his crew members chided. “Cooper ain’t like most college boys. He’s done his time out on the water.”
Bree turned to Cooper with undisguised astonishment. “You worked a fishing boat?”
“My uncle was a lobsterman. I worked with him in the summers when I got old enough.”
“Tough job,” she commented, then turned back to the crews. “I lived in Boston for a while, so I’ve got real respect for how hard you all work.”
“Boston.” One of the younger hands spat into the water. “Their winter’s got nothin’ on ours. In the spring we gotta chop a path through the ice just to get to the fish.”
Grinning, Bree jotted a note on her pad. While the others chimed in with their own tales, the interview devolved into general boasting. Then she did the worst thing possible.
“Can I get some pictures of you guys?”
Shouting agreement, they pushed and shoved to be in front. Finally Jack hollered for them all to knock it off and waded into the mix to sort them by height. While they got organized, Bree glanced over at Cooper and gave him a little wink, which told him she knew exactly what she was doing. Who’d have thought their very intense visitor had a playful streak? Cooper mused with a grin. She had these rough-and-tumble men right where she wanted them, playing up to her, falling all over themselves to give her unusual personal details for her article.
And photos? What man didn’t want a pretty woman taking his picture, telling him it just might wind up on the internet?
“Grab that camera, lawyer boy!” Jack called out. “We want a picture with the little lady.”
Shaking his head, Cooper grinned and took the 35mm from her. Then he waited while they did rock-paper-scissors to decide who got to stand next to her. As he focused in, he marveled at how quickly she’d gotten them all eating out of the palm of her hand.
If she was like this with men in general, he pitied the one who actually fell in love with her someday. The poor guy wouldn’t stand a chance.
* * *
Once she and Cooper had chosen their lobsters, Bree followed him up the metal gangplank, away from the commercial docks humming with activity. It was pretty warm, and the smell of fresh fish and seaweed permeated the salt-laden breeze.
Oh, her mother would love that one, she thought, scribbling it down. It was poetic and earthy at the same time, just like Mom. With seagulls circling overhead, the bustling port looked busy enough to support five towns.
Until she noticed the other side.
The far end of the U-shaped dock was completely empty. No boats, no people, even the access gate had been welded shut. Some of the wooden deck boards were missing, and algae covered the lower areas of everything that remained.
“How long has it been that way?” she asked, motioning toward the abandoned section.
“Five years, give or take. It got to be so expensive to maintain, the town council voted to close it down and save the money.”
It looked lonely and unwanted, tangible proof of the decline Cooper had described to her earlier. Now she understood his eagerness to entice tourists into the area. He didn’t want the rest of his hometown to end up like this.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his brow wrinkling with concern.
She’d been in lots of places that had seen better days, but she’d always managed to keep her professional distance. For some reason this old fishing village was different, and she’d need to put in more effort to remain objective. “Fine. Just hungry.”
