Читать книгу Rocky Coast Romance - Mia Ross - Страница 13

Chapter Four

Cooper had neglected to tell Bree the tan hatchback he’d borrowed for her was a standard. Shifting wasn’t her favorite thing to do at seven in the morning, and she ground her teeth along with the transmission. She vaguely recalled learning the basic concepts in high school, but stalled it several times before getting the hang of the clutch and shifter. Mavis paused in her laundry hanging to watch, and while Bree couldn’t hear anything, in the side mirror she saw the woman laughing at her.

Ignoring her, Bree finally slid the little car into gear, working the pedals to keep it running while she gradually built up speed. It was fortunate she didn’t have to use the highway, she thought as she drove up over the ridge and headed for town. She would’ve gotten a ticket for impeding traffic.

On Main Street the sleepy village had already come to life. Cars and pickups were lined up in the diagonal parking spots, and she had to park a good distance from the business district. Glancing toward the docks, she noticed those lots were full up, and the fleet of fishing vessels was gone. Every pier post was occupied by a seagull, snoozing while they waited for the boats to come back and toss out something for them to eat.

Since there wouldn’t be much activity down there for a while, Bree set her sights on what was going on in town. Cooper’s law office was closed, but she was surprised to find the neighboring door wide open. Brown paper covered the huge display windows, but classical music was playing inside. Taking a shot, she strolled in, hoping to find someone interesting to talk to.

The ceilings had to be fourteen feet high, and judging by the built-in shelving that ringed the open space, the building had once been a general store. The hardwood floors and trim had been recently sanded, with several patches of different stains scattered here and there. An archway led into a dark hallway at the back, and a carved door marked Private obviously led upstairs to offices or an apartment. It was pretty rough now, but it didn’t take much imagination to see how it would look when everything was restored to its former character-filled glory.

“Hello?” Bree’s voice echoed through the cavernous room, and she heard footsteps in the hallway.

When the shop’s owner appeared, Bree almost swallowed her tongue. The gorgeous blonde dressed for a casual day at the country club could be only one person. “Whoa,” she breathed. “You’re Julia Stanton.”

Irritation flashed through the woman’s blue eyes before she masked it with a smile. “Yes. May I help you?”

What a coup this was. The daughter of Ambassador Frederick Stanton had disappeared from public life nearly a year ago, and the various media had tried to locate her, without success. Neglecting her recent vow to be more circumspect about things, Bree blurted out, “What are you doing here?”

“Renovating my building. What are you doing here?”

“Looking for someone to talk to. People get up and going pretty early around here.”

“We like to make the most of the day.” She eyed Bree’s steno pad like it was a pit viper. “I don’t speak to reporters.”

“Sorry.” Bree shoved the pad into her bag and offered her hand. “Bree Farrell. I’m doing a story on Holiday Harbor for Kaleidoscope magazine.”