Butterfly Cove (6 page)

The one thing Olivia had wanted most as a girl was to earn her father’s love and respect, but that had never happened. She had never measured up to his critical eyes.

Olivia shrugged off dark memories as Jilly breezed back from the kitchen. Steam poured off a big cup of tortilla soup. “So when are you due back in Seattle?”

Olivia winced. She had put off telling her friends that she had been fired. Her job hunt had been going nowhere even before the accident. Once she had learned that no one was hiring locally, she had sent résumés all over the state and turned up two possible openings, but both had been quickly taken. “I have two more weeks. But I may be able to swing some extra time.”

Jilly shot a measuring glance at Caro. “How can you do that?”

“I’ve built up some sick days.” Olivia sipped the hot soup slowly. “This is fantastic, Jilly.”

“You like it?” Jilly glanced again at Caro. “I—that is,
we
have a question for you. No, let’s call it a proposition. Caro and I have been talking, and Grace agrees. We want to hire you.”

Olivia frowned. “Hire me for what?”

Jilly sat down beside Olivia. “We want you to build a conservatory on the far side of the Harbor House. Your job would be official. We’d be hiring you as our architect of record. You know how hard it’s been to maintain the authentic details of this house during restoration. But with a new conservatory—something bright and welcoming—we could rake in tourists. Then we can add a separate restaurant there, someplace for weekend brunch with a tasteful bar. Every seat would have unmatched views of the coast. With luck, we can book private weddings. That’s where serious money comes in. A yarn shop and a café are nice, but the moneymaker would be the restaurant...and the drinks. I’ve been playing around with recipes, and Grace has already crunched some numbers.”

Olivia stiffened. “How long have you three been planning this? You never consulted me.” She looked away, hurt at being excluded.

“Hold on.” Caro put down her box of cleaning supplies. “You had enough on your plate. Your father’s funeral was barely over when we had all those zoning applications to finish. You handled every one so we could focus on the repairs here. We didn’t want to bother you again so soon. And I only heard about this conservatory plan last week. No one is sneaking behind your back.”

Olivia flushed. “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just a surprise.”

Caro sat down beside her. “Jilly and Walker had the idea first. Then Grace found a picture of a garden restaurant in Britain that was just perfect. We were going to discuss all this with you yesterday, but there was the storm and you were hurt. So what do you think?”

“It would be a great way to capitalize on revenues. And structure and design fees would be reasonable.” The renovations had run to twice the estimates. Olivia figured it would take five years to dig their way out of debt, but the women were willing to work hard. The Harbor House was a key part of Summer Island’s history. No way could it be lost, torn down for condominiums or a luxury resort.

And with her job gone, Olivia would have plenty of time to work on a design and then handle the construction plans. “I like the idea. But you don’t need to pay me.”

“Yes, we do,” Jilly said quickly. “You know how the zoning commission puts us through hoops because this is a historic property. It’s not going to be easy to find an exterior design that preserves the historic style while also serving a busy restaurant. You’re going to earn every penny of your salary.”

Olivia knew that was true. Dealing with historical buildings was a huge pain in the neck. They were beautiful outside, but their inner structure was usually a nightmare.

Despite the headaches, Olivia would relish the challenge of the new design. A garden and eating area around the conservatory would be perfect for the coastal location. They could also use the garden plantings to attract the monarch butterflies that migrated south each winter to Pacific Grove and Santa Cruz. Fewer and fewer could be seen near the coast at Butterfly Cove, as available wild land was built up for expensive shore communities.

“It’s a great idea. I’ll help any way I can.”

“What about your job in Seattle?” Jilly drummed her fingers on the table. “You can’t be two places at once. This may be more than we should ask of you, Livie.”

“I’ll make it work.” Olivia took a deep breath. “Now can I have another cup of soup? And this time crank up the heat, will you?”

Jilly gave a wicked smile. “You want hot? I can give you hot.”

CHAPTER FOUR

T
HREE HOURS LATER
Olivia had died—and gone straight to heaven. She was surrounded by a mound of cashmere, silk and merino, each yarn color-coded and separated by weight and fiber, to be displayed on rustic wooden shelves. Olivia had always been very organized, and she liked the security of knowing what was around her and how to find it fast.

Olivia had done a big part of the planning for the yarn shop. She had carefully chosen patterns for sale to reflect all ages and all skill levels. Each pattern was carefully inserted in a plastic folder and arranged by garment type. Her own hand-knitted shop samples were displayed on wooden dowels and antique dress forms. She and Caro had chosen the pink toile wallpaper and the curtain fabric. They had found an antique rug at a flea market in Seattle, and Olivia had brought two antique wing chairs of her own down to the shop on loan.

Now the space was bright and cozy, filled with a sense of welcome and inspiration, ready to become part of the community.

She put down the last ball of alpaca yarn and studied her list of invoices, pleased with the neat rows of numbers and check marks. All the yarn was accounted for. All the shop samples were finished. The yarn store would be ready to open on time, even if the plumbing repairs held up Jilly’s café opening.

She reached down for the file folder with the shop yarn orders and winced as pain shot through her shoulder. The pain reminded her that she had at least a week of rest before she would feel even close to normal.

“Livie, what’s wrong?” Jilly scowled at her. “I told you
not
to lift anything. That’s what we’re here for. Why didn’t you call me?”

“Because I forgot, okay? I was distracted, thinking about the yarn shop and how beautiful it will be. I forgot that I’m a helpless mess.”

“You’re not helpless and you’re not a mess. You did a brave thing in the storm. So stop arguing when we try to help you.” Jilly picked up the box of sorted yarn and carried it to the nearby counter. She read each tag and put the ball in its color-coded shelf. “Besides, the lasagna is almost finished. I also think you should sleep here tonight. We have that spare bedroom nearly finished on the second floor. If you have a problem or need anything, you won’t be alone.” Jilly glanced at her watch. “Now it’s almost time for you to take a pain pill.”

Olivia rolled her eyes, but secretly enjoyed Jilly’s concern. Olivia’s role had always been to handle details quietly. She was usually the organized, capable one who worked without drama or attention.

Jilly crossed her arms, ready for a fight. “Well?”

“Well, it’s a good idea. I’ll stay.”

Jilly looked surprised that Olivia hadn’t argued. Before she could say anything else, car lights swept across the front porch. Jilly smiled. “It’s Walker. Let’s get ready to eat.”

A second set of car lights swept the front of the Harbor House.

Olivia glanced at the door as footsteps hammered across the porch. Walker opened the door and Olivia saw that he was nearly hidden behind a stack of boxes from the post office. “Mail delivery. I’m guessing this is more yarn. Why you would need more yarn is beyond me.”

Olivia stiffened when she saw the tall figure who followed Walker inside, carrying more boxes. She felt heat flood across her face.

Jilly took some boxes from Walker and carried them to the far wall of the yarn shop. “Rafe has been working around the clock. I figured it was our civic duty to feed the new deputy.”

Olivia shifted restlessly. It had been one thing when she lay in the hospital, hazy with pain pills. It was another thing entirely to face Rafe now, clearheaded and acutely aware of their tangled past. The whole thing was awkward—and stirred up far too many emotions better left forgotten.

Rafe put down his pile of boxes and turned slowly, studying Olivia’s face. “Is my being here a problem?” he asked quietly. “If you’d rather I go...”

“No.” Olivia answered in a breathless rush. “It’s fine. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“You tell me.” Rafe’s voice was rough. “You’re the one who looks like she was just broadsided by a truck.”

Did she really look that way? Or was it only Rafe who could see through her?

Somehow he had
always
been able to see through her.

“What makes you think you’re so important? I’m hearing a Carly Simon song here.”

The corner of Rafe’s mouth twitched. He leaned down, his face inches from her mouth. Slowly he picked up the heating pad that had fallen onto the floor at her feet.

“This isn’t going to do much good on your feet.” The soft fabric curved over her shoulder. Olivia felt the brush of Rafe’s fingers.

That simple touch hit her hard, leaving her breathless and off-kilter. It had always been that way. If Rafe was in the same room, she felt it. As a girl, she hadn’t understood where that kind of desire could lead.

But Olivia was grown-up now. She knew exactly how passion could dull your logic...and open you to heartbreak.

She pushed away a flood of memories. “Is there something I can do, Jilly?” She ignored Rafe. “Maybe I should get the napkins—”

“You just sit there, rest and entertain Rafe,” Jilly called. “Tell him all about the yarn shop. I’m sure he’ll be fascinated by the fiber density and staple count of merino in comparison to alpaca,” Jilly said dryly.

Then she vanished back into the kitchen, rattling pans and laughing with Walker.

Olivia looked down at her hands. She couldn’t think of anything to say. Once she could have spoken about any subject with him.

She cleared her throat. “You must be exhausted from dealing with this storm.”

Rafe rubbed his neck. “One day normal, the next day traffic pileup and roads closed. This one storm could drain half the state’s total winter-road budget.” He walked to the window, studying the sweeping green lawns that led down to the rugged coast. “You four have really made something remarkable here. All I remember about this place is boarded-up windows, weeds in the grass and graffiti on the sidewalk. But you four always did have great vision, didn’t you? You saw what this place could become. That takes guts.”

Olivia felt her jangling nerves relax slightly. “It hasn’t come cheap. The house was in worse shape than any of us realized. Given its historical designation, we’ve been limited in the materials and kind of improvements that we can make. Jilly just told me that she wants to add a conservatory on the south side of the house so she can cater private weddings and have upscale brunches in the summer. It’s a fantastic idea—but it will be difficult to get zoning approval. The neighbors may object to the noise. There are groundwater issues to consider with a new business, and we need to maintain the house’s historic look. It will all be complicated.”

“If anybody can smooth-talk the bureaucrats, it’s you,” Rafe said gravely. “You were always the one to talk your friends out of trouble. You always knew the right words to say.”

Olivia stiffened. For some reason his description made her angry. “You mean, I was the town
good
girl, so no one could say no to me.”

“That’s not what I meant. I—”

Olivia cut him off. “Isn’t it? Well, let’s get this straight. I did my share of bad things growing up. Jilly wasn’t the only one who got into trouble. You make me sound like a sleazy manipulator.”

Rafe shook his head. “I didn’t mean to. It was a compliment, believe me. It takes skill to calm people down. As I recall, you always had that skill.”

Olivia couldn’t find anything to argue with there. But arguing seemed much safer than letting down her guard. “So what are your plans? I expect you’ll move on to more exciting places like South America or Asia. You always said you wanted to see the world.”

Rafe looked at her gravely. “You remember that?” His voice hardened. “Then you should also remember that I wanted to go to those places with you. That never happened, did it?”

Olivia took a sharp breath. Suddenly the room was filled with memories and unspoken emotions. “Not through any fault of mine.” Olivia stopped right there. The last thing she wanted was to open up old wounds. They couldn’t go back.

Rafe had made that decision over a decade before.

He rested an arm on the windowsill and studied her, eyes narrowed. “What about you, Livie? Did you ever see the world? I seem to recall that Italy was on the top of your list.”

“I got to Italy. It was everything I’d expected. If things had been different...I might have stayed. There was an old olive mill that would have made an amazing bed-and-breakfast. I could have started a lavender farm and maybe raised some sheep.” She stopped, angry at how easy it was for him to draw her out.

“So what happened?” Rafe frowned. “Why aren’t you in Italy right now raising those sheep?”

“Because I have responsibilities. Because I made a promise to my friends and to myself. We’re going to get the Harbor House on its feet as a stable, long-term business. And because—”

She looked away grimly. Her father’s financial choices had crippled her own plans for the future, and she didn’t have all the details yet.

“What else?”

Why was it a surprise that he could read her so easily and knew there was much more that she had not told him? That had always been one of his skills. “My father died earlier this year. You might not have heard. I have his legal affairs to settle. Between that and the Harbor House opening, I won’t be free for any travel for the next couple of years. Pretty boring, isn’t it?”

“Not boring. Not with the right person. With the right person, a little patch of mud can be heaven.”