he asked, “Which one of them came up with your unique name?”
Bree groaned. “My mother. She’s a hopeless romantic, and her favorite movie is Sabrina. You know, the one where the two rich brothers fall in love with the butler’s daughter who used to be a plain Jane and—poof!—turns into Audrey Hepburn?”
Grinning, Cooper forked up a cherry tomato from his salad. “Sounds familiar.”
“As if that wasn’t mortifying enough, she saddled me with Constance for a middle name. It’s a tribute to some aunt she adored, but really, who uses names like that anymore?”
He laughed, and even though it was at her expense, she couldn’t help joining in. There was something about him that made her feel at ease, as if he’d pushed some invisible “relax” button inside her that no one else had ever found. While they devoured their lobsters, they chatted comfortably about nothing in particular. Before long, it felt as if they’d known each other for years instead of only a few hours.
For dessert they ordered a humongous slice of Boston cream pie and two forks. It was like a scene from some gushy romantic movie, but Bree was having such a great time, she decided to ignore the sappiness and just enjoy the evening.
They’d nearly finished off their pie when he said, “I almost forgot to tell you how the lighthouse got its name.”
Actually Mavis already had, but Bree decided to let him have his moment. “That’s right. Go ahead.”
“After a dozen ships or so broke up on those rocks, the townsfolk got together and built the tower. They called it Last Chance because it was the captains’ last chance to correct their course before running aground.”
“Neat story,” she murmured, scribbling it down even though she’d recorded Mavis telling it earlier. Normally she wouldn’t humor a source this way, but Cooper had been so great with her, she didn’t want to hurt his feelings.
“So, that’s it.” Setting down his dessert fork, he checked his watch. “I guess I should get you back, then.”
It had been a long, exhausting day, and she was definitely ready to hit the sack. But when she opened her mouth to agree, she heard herself say, “If you’ve got time, I wouldn’t mind hearing some more about the summer-long regatta.”
What? Where had that come from? Betrayed by her suddenly unpredictable emotions, Bree forced herself to smile as if she hadn’t completely lost her mind.
Fortunately Cooper either didn’t notice her momentary lapse of sanity or he was so accustomed to odd characters it didn’t bother him. “Sure. What do you want to know?”
“Whatever you think people who aren’t from around here would find interesting. Quirky,” she clarified, pulling her steno pad over to take notes. “Like what kind of costume does Reggie wear?”
Threading his fingers together on the table, Cooper grinned. “He’s always Teddy Roosevelt. Even wears little glasses and a forest ranger’s hat.”
“Who does Mavis go as?”
“Mavis. She doesn’t think much of dressing up herself, but she’s got no reservations about decking out Reggie. She says he enjoys pretending to be someone else once in a while.”
Laughing, Bree jotted that down and set up her phone to record. If this first nugget was any indication, she was in for some Holiday Harbor gold.
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.”
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