Читать книгу Safe In His Arms - Anna J. Stewart - Страница 16

“REMEMBER WHAT PAIGE at the diner said, Phoebe.” Hunter pushed open the door to Cat’s Eye Bookstore and ushered her inside. “Look up.”

Phoebe’s chin shot up, and she turned in circles. Hearing Phoebe’s soft gasp before she pointed a finger up at the ceiling had Hunter doing the same. Amid the chin-high polished wooden bookcases filled with tomes, an intricate maze of wide shelves, cubbies and platforms had been built into the walls for three, no, five cats of varying ages to enjoy. A yellow-eyed tabby blinked down at them from its regal perch, reminding Hunter of the Cheshire cat in Alice in Wonderland. “Well, hello there.” Hunter couldn’t stop the smile from forming.

“That’s Zacharia.” A man emerged from around the corner, his arms loaded with a stack of hardcover books. “And don’t worry, he’s not a leaper. He prefers to sit and rule over us from above.”

“Good to know.” The last thing Hunter wanted today was for a cat to land on his face. “Paige over at the diner told us to be sure to look up when we came in.” He trailed his gaze around the room, shaking his head at the cats darting in and out of sight. “This is amazing. How many cats do you have?”

“Officially? One. Zacharia there.” As if the books weighed no more than a bag of feathers, he stopped beside them. “We’re fostering four others at the moment. My daughter, Mandy, and I rotate them so they don’t get bored at the shelter. Also gets them acclimated to interacting with people and each other. Sorry. I’m rambling. What brings you by? Anything in particular?” He headed to the new releases table, placed the books he was carrying on the nearest shelf and started reorganizing the selection. “Or just browsing?”

“Phoebe’s in need of some new books.” Hunter took a long moment to appreciate the larger-than-expected store that stood on the corner of Monarch Lane Whispering Wing three blocks from the diner. “And I suppose I am, too. Especially anything having to do with Butterfly Harbor and the surrounding areas. I’m doing research for a project.”

“You must be Hunter MacBride. I’m Sebastian Evans.” The man offered his hand to shake. “Gil said he thought you might be stopping by. Welcome to Butterfly Harbor. And hello to you, too, Phoebe.” He bent down just as Paige had to meet Hunter’s niece eye to eye. “What kind of stories do you like?”

“She reads widely,” Hunter said when Phoebe looked up at him. “And she’s...shy around strangers.”

“Totally understand. Wish my Mandy had been shy at that age. Would have made things a lot easier.” Sebastian laughed. “She’d talk nonstop to anyone and everyone. Still does. That said, she’s thirteen now, so you must be seven? Eight?” he asked Phoebe.

“Seven,” Hunter confirmed.

“Right. I have a special going today on children’s and YA books. Buy three books, get the fourth for free. How about you and your uncle look around for a bit and if you have any questions, you can let me or one of the cats know?”

Phoebe pointed up as a sleek black cat emerged from a cubby.

“That one’s Ruby,” Sebastian told them. “And over there we have Bella. My daughter named her that because she’s so poofy and pretty. Not the sharpest crayon in the box, though. I can’t tell you how many times she’s mistaken a fur ball for a mouse. But a kind soul nonetheless.”

Phoebe looked confused.

Hunter wasn’t sure he’d ever seen a cat with so much fur. Almost pure white with a collar of gray, Bella had bright blue eyes that almost glowed even in the daylight. “What is she, a Ragdoll?” His great-aunt Eunice had had a Ragdoll cat when he’d been growing up.

“We think so. Part, at least. Mandy’s been looking into it. She’s hoping to be a vet, which explains the menagerie around here. The ones you have to look out for are Chuck and Lilith. They’re barely a year old and love little girls especially. Careful or they might try to follow you home.”

Hunter recognized a barely restrained plea when he heard it. “I’m not sure a cat is in the cards for us right now. We aren’t staying very long, and being so close to the cliffs—”

“That’s right. You’re staying up at the Liberty, aren’t you? Mandy and I have been dying to see how it’s coming along, but we’re trying to be patient while Kendall finishes it.”

Phoebe wandered down the aisle toward the children’s section.

“So there’s only one person working on the lighthouse?” Hunter asked.

“Yep. Kendall’s a bit of a one-woman miracle construction crew. Not much she can’t do on her own, but when she needs help, she knows who to call.”

“You?” Hunter picked up a new mystery by one of his favorite authors he hadn’t realized was out yet.

“Oh, no. There’s a reason I own and operate a bookstore. Mandy’s more handy than I am. No, the deputies help Kendall out from time to time, as well. And some of the local teens. And Frankie Bettencourt, of course. You meet Frankie yet?”

“Afraid not. We only just got into town today.”

“Butterfly Harbor’s first female firefighter. Also been a pain in my backside for going on thirtysomething years.”

At Hunter’s curious look, Sebastian grinned. “She’s my best friend’s sister. Twin, actually. Older than Monty by three minutes, but you’d swear it was three years the way she talks. We grew up here together.”

“Then I’m definitely going to want to talk to you in the future. All of you,” he added. “For the book.”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever you need.” Sebastian finished adding the new books to the display and moved behind the counter that had a selection of hand-carved wooden bookmarks, hand-turned pens and butterfly-topped pencils. The glass case beneath the register displayed a sign signifying locally made jewelry, some of which were miniature books with real leather bindings. “I know a lot of people haven’t been happy with some of the decisions Gil’s been making, but we can’t argue with results. The town’s coming back to life. Should make a good angle for your book.”

“How close was it to dying?”

“About as close as you’d want to get. A little over two years ago, I was considering leaving. Would have killed me to give up this place. Starting over with a new store in a new town wasn’t financially feasible, not with Mandy so close to college. Gil’s revitalization plans, the building of a new butterfly sanctuary, bringing a national TV crew out here to cover one of our food festivals—it’s all helped. It’s helped a lot. Given us store owners some breathing room.”

“Gil’s never been one to let protests or detractors get in his way.” Not that Hunter knew Gil that well. To say he’d been surprised to get Gil’s call a few weeks back was a massive understatement. He hadn’t seen or heard from his friend in almost a decade, but while Hunter had lost touch, obviously Gil had kept tabs on Hunter and his career.

“We’ll see what happens come election time. If things keep running smoothly, he should keep his job.”

“And if things don’t run smoothly?” Hunter asked.

“Good question.” Sebastian shrugged. “Other than politics or banking, not exactly sure what the Hamiltons are made for.”

Hunter felt a tug on his shirt. When he turned and looked down, he saw Phoebe, clutching a hardbound book against her chest as if it were gold. “What do you have, kiddo?” He bent down, held out his hands and felt his heart break a little more when she handed over a brand-new copy of Charlotte’s Web. Her eyes shone, and it wasn’t the first time he had a difficult time deciphering grief from hope. “Well, this is lovely.” His smile made his cheeks ache. “We can add this to the stack, okay? How about we go explore together? I bet there are some math puzzle books around here somewhere? We’ve been homeschooling,” he explained to Sebastian.

Unfazed, Sebastian tapped his hand on the counter. “Then I have just the thing. Follow me.”

A little over an hour later, the sorrow over Phoebe’s main choice of book had been tempered by the half dozen other books Sebastian had talked her into trying. A few were ones Hunter never would have considered, given they were far above a seven-year-old’s reading level, but Sebastian had sat on the floor with Phoebe and explained each one, encouraging her by letting her know his daughter had loved these books at her age.

The science and math workbooks were a pleasant surprise and included lots of fun experiments they could do together.

“Depending on how fast she goes through these,” Sebastian told Hunter as he accepted Hunter’s credit card, “you might want to start visiting the library. Phoebe’s old enough for her own card.”

Gripping the edge of the counter, Phoebe’s eyes went wide, and she bounced on her toes.

“Won’t that cut into your profit margin?” Hunter joked.

“It’s good business sense. A reader like her is hard to find, and we want to keep readers interested. Alternating between will keep things fresh. You’ll find the library two blocks north from the elementary school.”

“Good to know.”

Phoebe inched closer to him at the mention of school. Hunter laid a hand on her shoulder and squeezed, their silent sign that he understood and she could relax.

“And, because I expect you’ll be repeat customers, here you go, Phoebe. Your very own Cat’s Eye book bag.” Sebastian placed a few of her books into the drawstring bag, then stepped around the counter to help her slip it on like a backpack. “You bring this with you whenever you come in, okay?”

She nodded so hard she almost tipped over. “Thank you.”

Hunter felt a burst of happiness at Phoebe responding without prompting. She must have decided that Cat’s Eye Books was a safe place.

“You sure I can’t interest you in a cat?” Sebastian asked. “Or maybe two? Two is always better so they each have a companion. I’m sure Chuck is around here—”

“Nice try.” Hunter chuckled and purposely did his best not to look anywhere near Phoebe. A pet might be a good idea, but maybe something smaller. Like a goldfish. “Appreciate your help. And the information. I’ll be in touch about talking to you and Frankie and her brother. I bet you guys can give me some insights into this town few others can.”

“Count on it.”

Hunter held out his free hand once they were back outside. “Well, Phoebs. I have to say that’s the most fun bookstore I’ve ever been to.”

People roamed the street, darting across the road toward the beach. Seagulls cawed in the distance as the scent of briny seaweed coated the air.

“I’d say we’ve had a good first day in Butterfly Harbor. How do you want to finish it? The beach or...”

“Ice cream!” Phoebe tugged hard on his hand and pulled him to the next shop. Harbor Creamery.

“You sure?” Hunter feigned disbelief. “I don’t know. You had a big lunch.”

Phoebe scrunched her face, dragged him closer and jabbed a finger against the menu displayed in the window.

“Oh, they have kiddie scoops.” They also had gelato, which Phoebe pointed to next. Even at seven, she knew his weakness. “Okay, one scoop. But that means broccoli with dinner.”

Phoebe shrugged and led the way inside.

IF KENDALL WAS LUCKY, and had Frankie’s help, she’d get the scaffold erected on the west side of the lighthouse this week. She had a lot of painting to do. As the sun began to dip for the day, Kendall gathered up her tools, stashed them in the rebuilt shed and pulled down her makeshift workstation. Kids got into everything, and the last thing she wanted was anything enticing Hunter’s niece. Hopefully school would keep Phoebe occupied and away from...her.

She didn’t need, didn’t want, a daily reminder of little-girl needs and wants. That everything and anything that went wrong with the world could be solved with a mother’s hug.

She wasn’t a mother, though, Kendall reminded herself. She’d quit that dream when she’d lost Sam. She’d only come close when she’d all but adopted Samira and her family in Afghanistan.

Samira’s father was a translator, looking after his two sons and daughter along with his late wife’s parents. Samira, at ten, had become a bit of a caretaker, always helping her father. But she’d loved soccer. And soon, she and Kendall had a standing practice session that gave both of them something to look forward to.

“Stop it.” Kendall lugged one of her sawhorses back into the keeper’s house when Hunter’s and Phoebe’s bike tires crunched on the dirt and gravel road. Their bike baskets were filled to overflowing, and Kendall noticed Phoebe was wearing a familiar amber backpack. Obviously they’d found their way to Cat’s Eye Books.

Apprehension tugged at Kendall’s stomach as she quickened her pace in the hopes of finishing for the day before Hunter thought to...

“Hello.” Hunter steered his bike to the lighthouse rather than the carriage house and dismounted with that now familiar, friendly, if not quirky grin on his too-handsome face. He engaged the kickstand and plucked a small paper bag out of the front basket.

Because she wasn’t a complete curmudgeon yet, she gave him a quick chin jerk. “Hi.” She pushed the air out of her lungs to dispel the cloud of melancholy.

“This is for you.” Hunter offered her the bag.

She blinked at the bag as if it were filled with snakes. “Why? What for?”

“A peace offering of sorts. And a thank-you. For sharing this with us.” He motioned to the view of the ocean alight with the flame of the sunset.

Kendall needed him to understand she was not up for any social interaction where he or just about anyone was concerned. She shrugged and turned away. “Not necessary. This wasn’t my choice.” And the man whose choice it was had been dodging her all day long.

If anything, her refusal seemed to encourage him. Hunter darted over, stepping in front of her before she reached her door. “It would be rude not to accept. And even though you’re trying your best, I don’t think you’re inherently rude.”

Kendall shot him a humorless smile. “Guess again.”

“I know we’re intruding.” He tried again and moved between her and the refuge she sought. “And if you’re like most people, you don’t like change. But change happens. And we’re here. We need to find a way to get along. If not for each other, certainly for Phoebe. She’s been through enough this year. I don’t want her being scared of the person we live next door to.”

Kendall resisted the pull to look over her shoulder. She would not look. She would not... She glanced back to where Phoebe stood astride her bike, tiny hands clutching the handlebars with white-knuckled uncertainty.

Stiffening her spine, bracing herself, Kendall faced Hunter again, opening her mouth to argue. But when she found herself looking into determined eyes, she saw the one thing she knew she could lose to: a father’s resolve.

Her heart nearly seized. “I like my solitude.” Like? More like she needed it as much as she needed air to breathe and water to drink. Small doses of interaction were fine. Doses of her choosing, but knowing this man and his little girl were steps away from the one place she’d been able to feel free again? Why was the universe playing with her again? “She doesn’t have to be scared. I might not be here much longer, anyway.” It was the first time she’d considered it, dropping everything and leaving town. But avoiding Hunter and Phoebe might be the simpler solution.

“Oh.” He looked surprised at that tidbit of information. “Well, for as long as you are here, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t glower at her.”

Kendall frowned. “Glower? I didn’t mean to hurt her feelings.” Something akin to guilt wrapped itself around her.

“Prove it. Accept this from us, please.” He lifted the bag again. “We guessed. Phoebe did, anyway, at the flavor. At least pretend to appreciate it.”

Kendall accepted the package, peeking inside. If she’d had a heart left to break, it might have shattered into a million pieces. “Strawberry.” The tears came, even after all this time. “Thank you,” she finally managed. At his arched brow, she took a deep breath, glared back. Then turned to Phoebe. “Thank you, Phoebe.”

Phoebe’s mouth curved up at the corners before she climbed off her bike and steered it toward the guest house.

“Thank you,” Hunter said. “Have a good evening.”

Kendall nodded, because she couldn’t speak. She waited until she heard the door close behind him before she hauled the sawhorse into the house, set the bag on the table and finished cleaning up outside. When she literally had nothing left to distract herself with, she went inside and dropped the bag of ice cream into the sink.

After taking a shower and changing her clothes, she returned to the one-room dwelling, knotting her shoulder-length hair high on her head. The newly restored electricity and lighting flickered and bathed the space in a dim glow. Even though her stomach growled, she didn’t feel like eating. That said, she hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and even that had been a scrambled egg and the last of the scones Abby Corwin had sent home with her last week.

Kendall opened the small fridge and stared at the assortment of fresh vegetables and eggs that local farmer Calliope Jones insisted on personally delivering every few days.

Kendall sighed. Salad didn’t appeal. Veggies were never her first choice. She’d eaten enough eggs lately she should be clucking. Surrendering, she plucked up one of the three spoons out of the crooked, handmade mug and pulled the pint of ice cream from the insulated bag.

She popped open the lid and looked down at the creamy, soupy, almost completely melted concoction. One dip of the spoon had her mouth watering. She could smell the fresh strawberries mingling with the cream and sugar. She took a bite and nearly swooned.

She walked over and sat cross-legged on her sleeping bag–covered mattress, making her way through the ice cream one soft, blissful, sorrowful bite at a time.

Closing her eyes, she accepted the truth. Her stay in Butterfly Harbor had come to an end.

“COME ON, PHOEBS. Finish up your breakfast.” Hunter sorted through his satchel to make sure he had everything he needed for the day. After getting into a solid routine over the past week, he was anxious to get to work and put his extensive internet notes to use.

Laptop, map of the town, cell phone. Notepad. His excessive purchases of legal pads probably qualified him for some sort of support group, but there was nothing he liked better than scratching pen or pencil against paper the good old-fashioned way. “Phoebe?”

He glanced over to the table and found Phoebe, Charlotte’s Web open, pushing half a bowl of cereal around in the milk with her spoon. “Not hungry?”

Phoebe shrugged.

“If you’re done, please take your bowl to the sink and rinse it out.” Mornings like this he remembered how his sister had been with Phoebe. His niece wasn’t a voracious eater. There were times she just didn’t want to eat or wasn’t hungry. Juliana hadn’t fretted over it too much. Neither did Hunter.

Phoebe did as he asked then returned to his side, tugged on his sleeve.

“Yeah? What’s up, kiddo?”

She just blinked up at him.

“Well, I need to get a good look at this town, but first I have a meeting with the mayor.” One that had already been rescheduled twice.

Phoebe’s eyes went wide.

It was all Hunter could do not to suggest she not be that impressed. But while Gil Hamilton might not inspire his admiration, their first nights in Butterfly Harbor certainly did. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept so well, but he shouldn’t have been surprised. He loved the ocean. Always had. And being this close to it, hearing every sound it made, settled his soul in a way he’d been hoping to find.

“Unless you’ve changed your mind about school, looks like you’ll be tagging along with me. Have you?”

Phoebe shook her head.

“Okay, then. Load up that new bag of yours. Choose one of your schoolbooks and one new book we bought at Cat’s Eye. And grab us each a bottle of water from the fridge.” He’d unloaded the last of their gear from the motor home last night. And caught himself once again stopping to look over to the keeper’s house that lay almost dormant against the darkness, its flickering light a reminder of the woman who lived inside.

Hunter had to have been blind not to see the sense of grief that surged into her eyes as she’d looked down at the ice cream. The same grief that flashed the first time she’d set eyes on Phoebe. The possibilities running through his mind about the source made his heart ache for her. Nonetheless, he wasn’t about to enquire further.

She didn’t have to tell him she enjoyed her solitude—that was as clear as a spring morning every time he caught sight of her.

This morning was no different than the past few. He’d purposely tried to keep his distance and certainly didn’t want Phoebe getting under her feet, but honestly, going out of his way to avoid Kendall Davidson was becoming a full-time job. One he didn’t have time for. Not if he was going to get that new book proposal off to his agent and come up with a decent draft of the Butterfly Harbor manuscript for Gil sometime soon.

When Max Miller, literary agent to the semi-famous, had suggested he spread his wings and try his hand at fiction, Hunter had thought the man might have finally slipped his tether to reality. Hunter dealt in facts, facts caught by a camera and detailed by the words that flowed out of him as a result. But the challenge of doing something new had intrigued him. Even better, it excited him. Of course he’d locked in that promise seven months ago; three weeks later his entire life had been flipped upside down. His rather carefree, go-anywhere, film-anything lifestyle had ground to a screeching halt when Juliana and her husband had been killed. Now he was a single father living on the road, taking every freelance job he could in order to build up the coffers he suspected he was going to need in the very near future.

Coffers that could do with the serious dose of coinage a solid new publishing contract could bring.

Hunter’s chest tightened. The money was one thing. Time was another. He was down to one month. One month to deliver a saleable proposal to Max who, now that he was getting up in years and was culling his client list, was getting more difficult to please. So yeah. Hunter had four weeks left. And not a single, solitary idea.

The job offer from Gil had been a lifesaver, and while the project itself was going to take a tremendous amount of work, he knew one thing for certain: Butterfly Harbor could very well be his last chance for inspiration.

Phoebe was struggling with the strings of her new bag, trying to get her arms into them. Hunter quickly got her situated, then himself, and they headed out for their bikes.

Phoebe came to a stop on the top step, thumbs hooked in the straps of her bag. As she did every morning, she watched as Kendall reassembled her sawhorses and worktable and unloaded tools.

Phoebe pointed at Kendall and looked up at Hunter. “Yeah, I see her. Morning, Kendall.” He doubted he’d ever sounded cheerier in his life as he waved at their neighbor.

Kendall gave a quick wave before returning her attention to the plank-and-pipe scaffold erected around the lighthouse.

Why the gesture felt like a massive triumph, he couldn’t say. Still, she’d waved. Progress.

It wasn’t long before they reached the mayor’s office, currently housed in a two-story old saloon-style building that soared to the top of Hunter’s must-photograph list. Butterfly Harbor was fully awake. People strolled up and down the streets. Cars carrying daily tourists slid into parking spots as families and couples unloaded beach chairs, coolers and jackets to keep off the morning chill of California air. Personally, Hunter loved the brisk coastal mornings. It got his blood moving.

His cell phone rang after he’d checked in with Gil’s assistant. Hunter glanced at the screen, felt his body tighten at the familiar number. With Phoebe settled in one of the lobby chairs, he stepped outside to take the call. “Good morning, Lance.”

“Hunter. I believe you were supposed to check in once you and Phoebe got settled.”

Hunter wasn’t a man normally quick to temper, but Juliana’s in-laws’ lawyer had a way of triggering even the most calm of pacifists. “We only arrived in town a few days ago, so you saved me a call.” As if he’d been champing at the bit to report in.

“Is the child adjusting adequately to her new surroundings?”

“Phoebe is doing fine,” Hunter explained. “As the court-appointed social worker stated in an affidavit only three weeks ago.” A social worker he’d driven half a day out of his way to meet with.

“Has she returned to school?”

“Not yet, no.” But she would. Soon. At least he hoped she would. Otherwise her paternal grandparents were going to have even more ammunition to use against him. “But other than that, she’s functioning as she should be and within expected parameters.”

If Lance Dunbar, Esquire, picked up on Hunter’s sarcasm, he didn’t let on. “We would like the address of where you’re staying on record.”

Hunter rattled off the oddly structured address; it wasn’t as if the carriage house at Liberty Lighthouse had a street number.

“And how long will you be staying at this address?”

“For as long as the project takes me,” Hunter said as Gil’s assistant poked her head out of the door to wave him inside. He held up a hand and nodded. “I’d guess about two to three months.”

“And where will you be going next?”

“To be determined,” Hunter said. He could recite these questions in his sleep. When he could sleep. These questions, which were posed to him each and every time he took a new job, were what kept him awake most nights. “There’s a video-chat session scheduled for tomorrow evening with Stephen and Eleanor,” Hunter reminded the lawyer. “Can I assume this is a confirmation call for that?”

“My clients see no use in video chatting with their grandchild who refuses to speak to them. It’s a waste of everyone’s time.”

Hunter cursed himself for not having the forethought to record the call. “They could see her. She speaks just fine.” To people she trusts. When she feels like it.

“As I said, a waste of time. Please be sure to notify us of any location change as soon as it takes place.”

“Noted,” Hunter grumbled into the already-disconnected phone. These conversations were getting more abrupt and more disconcerting. Not for the first time, Hunter wondered how Stephen and Eleanor Cartwright had raised such a likable son. Brent had become one of Hunter’s best friends almost as soon as it became evident he and Juliana were serious. Hunter had served as one of his groomsmen at the wedding, and it had been Brent who had asked Hunter to be Phoebe’s godfather a few seconds after the little girl had entered the world. Losing both his sister and his friend had gutted Hunter, but he hadn’t been able to give in to the grief—not when Phoebe needed him. And she did need him.

No matter what Stephen and Eleanor might think.

Doubt crept in. A very small part of him wondered if she’d be better off with them, living a more traditional life with a home, school, friends, never wanting for anything because she’d have financial security. But then he remembered how Brent’s face would darken whenever the topic of his parents was raised, and how he’d say money didn’t equate with love and if it was the last thing he’d do, he’d raise Phoebe knowing she was utterly and completely accepted.

Which was why, no doubt, he and Juliana had designated Hunter as Phoebe’s legal guardian should anything happen to them.

Shaking off the unease that always descended after one of these calls, Hunter headed inside. “You okay, kiddo?”

Phoebe gave him a thumbs-up without even looking up from her book, the latest How It Works on astronomy.

“She’s good as gold,” the assistant told him. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that. I’ll be back in a bit, okay?”

Another thumbs-up. Hunter headed up to the second-floor landing and the mayor’s office.

Had Hunter forgotten about Gil Hamilton in their years since college, it would have all come rushing back the instant he stepped into Gil’s space. The sports awards and medals lined highly polished redwood bookcases. Certificates of achievements, letters of commendation, photographs of Gil and his father shaking hands with some of the biggest political names of the time spoke of a life dedicated to...well, Hunter wasn’t entirely sure what. Clearly Gil had been busy in the last ten years.

But it was the sight of Gil Hamilton himself that had Hunter doing a double take. The man hadn’t aged a bit since they’d graduated college. Same sandy-blond hair, same classic polo shirt and khakis, although Hunter would bet he wore a suit more often than he’d be willing to admit. They’d cut classes a lot to surf, as the beach had only been a hop, skip and a jump from campus, and judging by the look on Gil’s tanned features, including that same self-assured grin, his old friend still found time to catch some waves. Chilly waves, but waves nonetheless.

“Hunter. It’s good to see you.” Gil came around the desk, hand outstretched. “Thanks so much for taking the job. And for going along with my schedule. I didn’t expect it to be so long before we met.”

He returned the greeting, then slung his bag from around his shoulder and set it on the floor next to the chair across from Gil.

“Can I get you coffee? Tea?”

“Ah, no, thanks.” Hunter smiled.

“I appreciate you coming in.”

“No problem. Phoebe and I enjoyed the morning ride.”

“Ride?” Gil’s eyebrows disappeared beneath the sweep of hair that barely missed his eyes.

“Yeah, bikes. Easier to tote around than a car. I left the motor home up at the lighthouse. With Kendall Davidson,” he added just so he could watch Gil’s expression.

As predicted, Gil Hamilton did not disappoint.

“Ah, right. Kendall.” He scrubbed a hand against the side of his neck. “Probably should have given you a heads-up about her.”

“You should have given her one about me and Phoebe,” Hunter corrected. “Look, I’m used to being a surprise to people. Part of the job. But that woman looked positively spooked when we arrived.”

“You’re right. I messed up with that. I’ll head up there and apologize. Easy fix.”

Hunter bit the inside of his cheek. He didn’t think anything with Kendall Davidson would be an easy fix, but it would be a testament to Gil Hamilton’s people skills. “She’s interesting. Been here long?”

“A few months. She’s a friend of one of our deputies. Matt Knight. They served in Afghanistan together.”

Afghanistan. Explained the burn scars, Hunter supposed. And probably more. “I met him at the diner our first day in town. Seems like a good guy.”

“He is. So I made up a list of people it would be good for you to talk to about the history of the town.” Gil handed Hunter a file folder. “Most of them have lived here all their lives.”

“This is a start, thanks.” Hunter wasn’t about to tell Gil he preferred to move organically through a place, talk to people on their own, see who they thought was worth his attention. “I know what you’re looking for in this book.”

“Do you?” Gil’s bright eyes dulled a bit. “I don’t want a hatchet job, that’s for sure. It’s mainly for tourists and for promotion. Encourage people to move here. It’s a special place. You know, sell self-published copies in the stores, send them out to the media who might be interested in covering upcoming events or holidays. A press package on steroids.”

Hunter settled back into the conversation he’d been expecting, the same conversation he’d had with countless others in his career. “I don’t go looking for dirt, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I wouldn’t say worried, exactly. The town has a colorful history.”

“If you mean what happened with your father, I already know about that.” And Hunter had no plans to include any of those controversial details in his manuscript.

Gil’s normally open, friendly expression did a vanishing act. “I’m sure you do. This is about the rebuilding of a community, the coming together of a town. The way we’ve banded together and saved it.”

“Then that’s where I’ll start.” He was definitely going to be spending a lot of time at the library. “I appreciate having the place to stay while I’m working. Phoebe loves it up there.”

“How’s she doing?”

“Fine. I think.” They’d discussed, peripherally, at least, Phoebe’s issues since the accident. “Emotionally, she has her good days and her bad. I’d say I was hoping a change of scenery would help, but she gets a lot of that.”

“There’s a lot to be said for silence.”

“True enough.” Hunter’s lips twitched. “Still, I wouldn’t mind hearing a bit more about what she’s thinking from time to time. There’s nothing wrong with her. She’s grieving. It’ll take patience on both our parts.”

“Sure. It makes sense.” Gil nodded. “We all handle grief in our own way. She’s got someone who cares about her looking after her. That’s what makes the difference. Still a few months left in the school year in case you’re worried about her not hanging out with kids her own age.”

“That would be nice. But she’s not budging on that.” Hunter shook his head. With respect to that subject, Phoebe had not remained silent.

“Then maybe check the events at the youth center for her.”

“A youth center, huh? Your idea?” Once upon a time Gil had considered running charity organizations for a living—until Gil’s father had gotten wind of that and put his foot down and insisted he follow him into local politics. One thing Gil had always had problems with was stepping out from under his father’s shadow. Even now that Senior had been gone a good few years, Hunter could still see the specter hovering not only in this office, but over Gil himself.

“The former sheriff’s actually. Jake Campbell. He and Luke Saxon, his replacement, worked on the project together. Been doing pretty well so far, well enough that they’re looking for a new, larger space. In fact, they’re also looking for new instructors. If you’re still as handy with that camera as I’m hoping you are.”

“Not a lot of call for photography classes that don’t include a cell phone, but I’ll check it out.” It was on the tip of his tongue to ask if the position would pay, but given it was a community center, he already suspected the answer. Didn’t mean he wouldn’t be willing, though. “Well, I’m sure you have a lot of work to get to. I’m heading to the library to get a jump on my research.” Hunter got to his feet.

“Sounds good. Oh, and here. This should help settle you in.” He handed Hunter an envelope. “It’s half up front, as we discussed. Other half on delivery. You said maybe two or three months?”

“Should be,” Hunter confirmed. Gil was right. The check in his hand would absolutely ease a bit of the burden weighing on him. He’d played a bit of hardball with his old friend, but given he’d had to make a cross-country drive to get here, he didn’t feel too guilty about it—and if he had, that phone call from the lawyer would have tipped the balance. “I’ll be in touch in a few weeks to let you know how I’m coming along.”