Seaside Blessings Page 5

  A wake for a tree. That was a new concept.

  But it was nice to know the lady had a soft heart.

  “Sure. Give me a minute to call the office with the particulars.” He pulled his radio off his belt.

  “I’ll wait on the bench.” After giving the tree a final pat, she retraced their route.

  As Clint punched in the numbers and watched her go, he found himself wondering what other surprises his new tenant might have in store for him.

  And was forced to admit he was looking forward to finding out.

  * * *

  Kristen let her daypack slip off her shoulders, set it beside the weathered bench and sat. Back by the downed tree, Clint was angled away from her, still talking on the radio.

  Thank goodness the man had no idea she was keeping him here under false pretenses.

  Yes, she did feel bad about the death of the majestic tree. But she’d seen a lot of downed trees during their hike, and Clint had explained that they had amazing powers of regeneration, sending up vertical sprouts from roots growing near the surface. This tree probably had many such offspring.

  No, her suggestion to pause for a few minutes was motivated more by curiosity about him. While the hike had been instructive, giving her new information about his background, it had also raised more questions.

  He’d been a cop, then changed careers midstream and moved across the country. He’d claimed it was because he loved the outdoors, because he’d visited this place as a kid and always said he’d come back. Yet people didn’t leave everything behind without a superstrong motivation. There was a piece of his story he hadn’t shared. Why?

  Also, as far as she could see, he was unattached. He wore no ring, nor did he appear to have a steady girlfriend. He hadn’t entertained any visitors at his house since she’d moved in. He seemed to lead a very solitary life. Why?

  As for the handful of personal questions she’d asked today, he’d answered them but offered no additional information. Talking about private stuff seemed to be off-limits. Why?

  Perhaps if she got him chatting in a casual, relaxed atmosphere he’d answer a few of the whys running through her mind.

  Keeping an eye on the mystery man, she lifted the daypack onto her lap, unzipped the main compartment and pulled out two bottles of water. After setting them on the bench, she opened the side compartment and took out a bag of trail mix and two granola bars. She arranged the provisions in the middle of the bench and returned the pack to the ground beside her.

  In the distance, Clint slipped the radio onto his belt and walked toward her.

  “You did come prepared.” He surveyed the mini buffet as he took a seat on the opposite side of the bench. “What else is in there?” He gestured to the daypack.

  “First-aid kit, compass, flashlight, matches, cell phone, digital camera, a small pair of binoculars and rain gear.”

  “The cell phone won’t do you much good here. Spotty reception. But you’re far better prepared than most of the hikers I meet.” He picked up one of the bottles of water and lifted it in salute as he unscrewed the cap.

  “You learn—sometimes the hard way.”

  “Can I assume there’s a story there?” He took a swig of water.

  “You can. I got dehydrated once on a desert hike. It wasn’t pretty.” She chose one of the granola bars and ripped open the wrapping.

  “Where was that?”

  “New Mexico, while I was working for one of the Mattson resorts near Santa Fe.”

  “You’ve been around.”

  She bit into the granola bar and lifted one shoulder as she chewed. “I go where they send me.”

  “What happened to the resort in Wisconsin? No interest in the family business?”

  She continued to chew, but the sweet cinnamon flavor soured on her tongue. This conversation was supposed to be about him, not her.

  On the other hand, maybe if she shared a little more about her background, he’d open up, too.

  “I would have gone back, but my parents had to sell it when I was twenty to raise funds for my dad’s cancer treatments—which weren’t successful. He died a year later. My mom still lives in the closest town, near my brother. I go back when I can, but it’s not the same.” Even after all these years, it hurt to talk about that painful period in her life. Loss of her childhood home. Loss of the dream of running the family business. Loss of her father. Loss of...

  Ruthlessly she stifled that last thought.

  She needed to get this conversation back on track. Her track.

  Forcing herself to refocus, she turned toward Clint—and found him looking at her hand. The one that was squeezing the life out of the granola bar.

  The man didn’t miss a thing.

  She loosened her grip, peeled back some more of the paper and took another bite she didn’t want. “So what about you? Do you have family back in South Carolina? And where did you live there?”

  He didn’t rush to answer. Instead, he draped an arm along the back of the bench and took another swig of water. The forest was silent around them for so long she wondered if he was going to respond—but at last he did.

  “Charleston. My sister and her family still live there, as does my dad. My mom passed away ten years ago.”

  “Do you get back often?”

  “No.”

  Why not?

  Kristen didn’t voice that question, but he must have read it in her eyes, because he spoke again.

  “They get out here now and then.”

  So he wasn’t estranged from his family. For some reason, she found that reassuring.

  She fingered a frond of the giant fern beside the bench. “My brother’s not married yet, but I’m looking forward to having nieces and nephews. Sounds like you have a few.”

  “Two. A boy and girl.” He studied her for a moment. “So you like children?”

  He’d done it again. Turned the focus back to her—and to a topic she didn’t want to discuss.

  “Sure. Who doesn’t like kids?” She crumpled the remainder of her granola bar and the wrapper in her fist, finished off her own water in several long gulps and bent to stow everything in the daypack, hiding her face from his view. “Are you ready to go?”

  “Yeah.” He handed her his empty water bottle.

  She stuffed it in the main compartment, zipped the pack shut and rose, keeping her back to him as she gave the downed tree one final sweep. “You know, impressive as the redwoods are upright, you get a whole different perspective on them when they’re down. And maybe even a greater appreciation for their nobility.”

  Behind her, she heard him stand. “That can be true of more than trees.”

  At his quiet comment, she turned to him, her fingers clenched around the straps of her pack. He had the most intense, delving eyes. The kind that could strip away layers of pretense and see into a person’s soul, where heartbreak dwelled.

  Or perhaps she was being too fanciful.

  Because if he could see into her soul, he wouldn’t find nobility. He’d find cowardice and selfishness and secrets even God couldn’t forgive.

  And he’d want nothing to do with her.

  Throat tightening, she hefted the pack into a snugger position, brushed past him and took off down the trail.

  They didn’t talk on the hike back, and the return drive to the visitor center was mostly silent as well. He, too, seemed reluctant to share any more personal history.

  When he pulled up beside her car, she opened the door and slid out the instant the SUV came to a stop. “Thanks for the guided hike.”

  “No problem.” He rested his forearm on the wheel. “I didn’t get a chance back there to tell you I was sorry about the loss of your family resort, but I am. It’s hard to give up a future you’ve planned.”

&nbs
p; Somehow she sensed he had personal insight into that experience. That his future, too, had been different than the one he’d anticipated. But in what way?

  Before she could think of a reply, he put the SUV in gear. “Drive safe going back.”

  “Yeah. I will. See you around.” She shut the door and stepped back.

  An instant later, he pulled away.

  Slowly Kristen walked to her car, deposited the daypack in her trunk and changed back into her sport shoes. By the time she slid behind the wheel, he’d disappeared down the road.

  Two minutes later, as she exited past the herd of Roosevelt elk that had come to graze in the pasture near the visitor center, she couldn’t help wondering what Clint’s real story was. Why had an intelligent, educated, good-looking man left his life behind and moved to tiny Starfish Bay? Why did he never go home? Was there an unhappy romance in his past, perhaps? Possibly a divorce? Some other secret buried deep in his heart?

  Frowning, Kristen merged onto 101. Given his reticence, it wasn’t likely the man himself would provide the answers to any of those questions.

  But she had other sources. Genevieve seemed to know everything about everybody in Starfish Bay. And Lindsey was privy to a lot, too, since the Mercantile’s coffee nook was a social hub in the tiny town. It might be possible to ferret out a few details with some discreet questions.

  As for why she cared about her landlord’s background—she’d leave that troubling question for another day, too.

  Chapter Five

  “An open house! How lovely! Lillian, come look at this!” Genevieve called the last sentence to her sister through the pass-through in the café that separated the stool-lined counter from the kitchen, then turned back to Kristen. “That Louis Mattson is so thoughtful. He never fails to stop in here for a bite and a visit when he’s in town. And inviting all the residents to a preview of the inn before it opens—everyone will be thrilled! We’ve all been dying for a peek inside.”

  “What is it, Genevieve? I have pies to bake, and Barbara will be stopping by any minute to whip up a couple of her carrot cakes for us.” Lillian bustled through the swinging door off to one side, wiping her flour-dusted hands on a towel. “Hello, Kristen.”

  “Hi, Lillian.” She smiled at the two energetic seventy-something sisters, who bore absolutely no resemblance to one another. While Genevieve was short and a bit rounded, with white hair she always wore in a soft chignon, Lillian was tall and spare, and her cropped dark hair sported only a few streaks of gray.

  “Look at this.” Genevieve handed Lillian the flyer Kristen had just delivered. “Won’t that be fun? I haven’t been to a cocktail party in years. I’ll have to dig out that fancy dress I wore to the wedding we attended last time we went home to Georgia.”

  Lillian scanned the flyer. “Goodness. It’s been quite a while since Starfish Bay had such a fancy party.”

  “Like never,” Genevieve declared.

  “In any case, I expect everyone will have a fine time. It’s a very thoughtful gesture.” Lillian smiled at Kristen.

  “I was hoping you’d post this in the café. Everyone in town seems to stop in here once or twice a week. I also put one on the bulletin board at the Mercantile, and a few other businesses are displaying them in their windows, too.”

  “We’d be happy to.” Genevieve took the flyer from her sister. “We’ll tape it by the cash register, where all our customers will see it. And we’ll talk it up, too.”

  “Well, back to work for me. Nice to see you, Kristen.” Lifting a hand in farewell, Lillian hurried back toward the kitchen.

  “Speaking of working...you must have pulled weekend duty if you’re delivering these.” Genevieve waved the flyer. “Though I suppose concierges work a lot of Saturdays.”

  “I’m not on the clock today. I just wanted to get these out as soon as possible.”

  And ask a few of the questions about my landlord that popped up during our hike yesterday.

  So far, however, she’d been batting zero with those questions. Lindsey genuinely hadn’t seemed to know as much as Kristen did about Clint, and after the owner of the Mercantile had commented that the man kept to himself and everyone respected his privacy, Kristen had let the topic drop. She hadn’t wanted the other woman to think she was nosy.

  Even if she was.

  If anyone in Starfish Bay had any additional background information on Clint, however, it would be Genevieve. Might as well give it one more try.

  “So do you think everyone will come?” She spooned a few M&M’s out of the always-overflowing bowl beside the cash register, dumped them in her palm and popped one in her mouth.

  “Are you kidding? The inn’s been the talk of the town for months. The whole place will be there with bells on.”

  “I suppose we’ll miss a few residents, though, if they work odd hours. Lindsey says they’ll close the Mercantile early that night, but I’m not sure about people like Clint. I guess rangers keep unusual hours.”

  “Not this time of year. He’s mostly nine to five, though I know he works some weekends and then gets a day off during the week. But that will change in high season, starting next month. Still, he might not come. He’s on the quiet side, and he keeps to himself.”

  “I noticed that. I live above him, and our paths don’t cross very often. Plus, I rarely hear any noise from below. He seems nice enough, though.” Kristen strove for a casual, conversational tone.

  “Salt of the earth. He was a great help during the Save the Point campaign, quietly doing what needed to be done, never taking any credit. And he’s put in a lot of personal hours on the interpretive trail, too. Nice man. Too bad he’s all alone.”

  The perfect opening.

  “Is he?” Kristen adopted an indifferent air, feigning an interest in the chalkboard behind the counter that listed the day’s special. “I thought he might have a girlfriend.”

  “Not that I know of.” Genevieve leaned close and dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “If you ask me, there’s a tragic romance in that man’s past.”

  At the candid comment, which mirrored her speculation from yesterday, Kristen gave up any pretense of reading the daily special. “Why would you think that?”

  “He has the look.”

  “What look?”

  “The one that’s sad, real deep in his eyes. Like he’s lost something—or someone—important to him. I’ve seen it before.” The older woman sized her up with a shrewd expression.

  Kristen’s palms started to sweat.

  Did the café owner have psychic powers?

  She juggled the M&M’s in her hand—hoping they lived up to their claim of melting in the mouth, not the hand—as she debated her options. She could make a fast exit...but she might not have the opportunity again to pick Genevieve’s brain without raising suspicion.

  Better to see if she could refocus the conversation on Clint and glean a tad more information before she escaped.

  “It is interesting that he moved so far from home.”

  “And left everything—and everyone—behind.” Genevieve gave a knowing nod, as if that proved her point. “From what little he’s said about his past, I gather he was close to his family. There’s a woman at the root of his cross-country trek, mark my words.”

  “Maybe he’s a widower or went through a nasty divorce.”

  “Nope. He’s never been married.” Genevieve rummaged through a drawer behind the counter and pulled out a tape dispenser.

  For once the garrulous café proprietor didn’t elaborate, forcing Kristen to press for details. “How do you know?”

  Genevieve tore off two pieces of tape and attached them to the flyer, then affixed the whole thing to the front of the counter. “He came in on my anniversary a few months ago, when I was feeling kind of low. I still miss my
Sam something fierce, even after fifteen years, and it’s always worse on our anniversary. Anyway, we got to talking, and he told me that while he’s never walked down the aisle, he hopes to meet the right woman someday. So there you have it.” She pressed the tape in place and stepped back to examine her handiwork.

  Mulling over that news, Kristen hoisted her purse higher and prepared to leave. “Thanks for posting that, Genevieve.”

  “Happy to do it.” The woman propped her hands on her ample hips and studied Kristen. “So how are you settling in here in our tiny town? Starfish Bay must be a lot different than Maui.”

  “Yes, but it has its charms.”

  “Must have been hard to leave such a tropical paradise, though. Not to mention all your friends.”

  “Not really. I’m a Wisconsin girl. The tropical climate always felt a bit artificial to me. And I was only there three years, so I didn’t make many friends. With the long hours I work, there isn’t much opportunity to socialize.”

  Nor did she want to. It was easier to leave when the time came if you didn’t connect with people or put down roots.

  “No boyfriend, then?”

  “No.”

  “Well...” The woman beamed at her, obviously pleased by that news for some reason. “I’m sure you’ll have the chance to mingle with some nice, eligible young men at the inn—or closer to home.” Genevieve winked at her.

  Oh, great.

  The owner of the Orchid Café was now playing matchmaker.

  She was out of here.

  “Considering the demands of my job, I doubt I’ll have the time or energy to do much dating for the foreseeable future.” She edged toward the door.

  “Sam and I didn’t date at first, either. We just kept running into each other around town when out of the blue, sparks started to fly. And there wasn’t a thing we could do about it. That’s how romance happens sometimes. Bang. Hits you between the eyes, when you least expect it.”