Return to Pelican Inn (Love by Design) (15 page)

Her quivering inner voice added the rest.

Said the spider to the fly.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

T
HE
SHACK
SMELLED
of old wood and damp earth. It was cold, though the walls were in a condition good enough to muffle the roar of the sea. Rosa thought she heard an insect buzz, which stalled her in the threshold until she realized it was the hum of the old lightbulb, so she stepped inside. Raised on blocks in the middle of the floor was what had previously been a boat.

Now it was the merest outline of a seaworthy vessel, the boards cracked and warped, some completely missing from the body of the craft, leaving dark holes like missing teeth.

Pike beamed, running his hands over the nautical skeleton.

She was not sure what brought the naked joy to his face. “So...it was a boat?”

He nodded. “
She
is a boat. Don’t you recognize her?”

Rosa looked closer. “Er, not really. Is she yours?”

“Uh-huh. I shouldn’t have spent the money, probably, but she’s mine, every decrepit splinter of her since last year when I bought her.”

Rosa chewed her lip. “Well, I hope you got a bargain because this boat is a little, um, distressed.”

“You would be too if you sank before you found your way to a salvage yard.”

She gasped. “This is...?”

“Poppy’s Dream.”

She looked at the old wreck with new eyes. What had been, a moment before, only a pile of ruined wood, was now something altogether different. “Oh, wow. Can you fix it?”

“Eventually, I’ll restore her.” He sighed. “I don’t have the cash or the time right now, but the guy who owns this shack lets me keep her here in exchange for some legal advice.”

“Do you know how to restore a boat?”

“No, but I’m learning. Bought every book Julio’s got on the subject, and I visit the shipyards whenever I can to see what I can find out.” He wiped some dust off the exposed wood. “I’m going to captain this boat again one day, Rosa,” he said. “Do you think that sounds nuts?”

“Yes,” she said. “And I’m thrilled for you.”

A smile crept over his face. “You are?”

She nodded. “I remember how you were when you sailed her. There was something different about you then. You were relaxed.” She searched for the words. “It was as if you were at home.”

“Same way you look when you’re decorating.”

She shrugged. “I’m always trying to turn a place into a home.”

“Why, do you think?” He glanced again at the ruined boat. “Why do you and I have to seek out our homes? Why aren’t we happy where we are?”

Rosa picked up a bent nail and twirled it between her fingers. “Mom said home is where the heart is. Maybe we just haven’t let our hearts come to rest anywhere, yet.” The conversation was getting far too deep, too intimate, for Rosa’s comfort. She put the nail on top of an upended crate and steered them back onto safe ground.

“I’m glad you found
Poppy’s Dream
again, Pike.”

“Me, too. My dad was proud of himself for buying this boat, but he never loved it like I did. To him it was a possession, something people own when they live on the coast. Maybe a way to show off.”

“Did he teach you to sail?”

“A little, but it was mostly Rocky, before he was deployed and then while he was back on leave.”

“Rocky? Really? I had no idea.”

“Rocky’s an excellent sailor and he never took a penny for all the lessons. I...never gave him enough credit.” He shrugged. “Ah, let’s be honest. I was arrogant. He doesn’t have a higher education, no ambitious plans, doesn’t even own a car, and I looked down on him for that. Stupid of me, because I’ve come to learn the guy is way smarter and more noble than I’ll ever be.” Pike’s face clouded. “I hate to think of him losing his job when the inn is sold.”

“Maybe we can think of something to help him and Stu,” she said, taking his hand.

He squeezed her fingers. “Ever the optimist, Rosa.”

“If you can look at this wreck and see a boat, I’d say you’re an optimist, too.”

He laughed. “No, I’m a lawyer, and I’ve got some emails to return, so I’d better get you back to the inn.”

He carefully locked the door of the shack behind them.

“Afraid someone’s going to steal it?”

“Lost
Poppy’s Dream
once,” he said. “I don’t want to do it again.”

* * *

A
S
FORECAST
,
THE
weather began a slow change the following morning, which lowered the volume of people seeking cocoa handouts. Even so, Rosa was kept busy filling cups, replenishing toilet paper and preventing Baggy from scaring the children. By late afternoon, black clouds billowed over the horizon, promising a nasty storm.

Rosa went into the garden to check on Cy, who was attaching nails to his evolving mirror project. Stu, gloves in place, removed nails one by one from a brimming bucket and laid them out in neat rows for Cy to glue down.

“How did you collect so many nails?” Rosa asked.

Cy grinned. “Stu found a bunch, and then I offered the festival-goers a deal.”

“What kind of a deal?”

“Dad hinged the top of the window seat, so I let the kids crawl down below with a lantern. Five minutes, and all they had to do was find a few nails to pay for their adventure.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope. They loved it and the parents got five minutes to sit down. Some even encouraged their kids to go for two tries. Slick, huh?”

“Huck Finn couldn’t have done it better.”

“That was Tom Sawyer, and I think I’d better get moving.”

The frame was nearly done when the first drops of rain began to fall. Rosa helped Cy move the nail art into the house. Since the stream of guests had slowed to a trickle, she’d finished the carpet tiles and was almost through applying the juicy pale plum color to the bathroom. The smell of garlic and herbs drew her into the kitchen.

Bitsy whistled cheerfully as she put a roast into the oven to cook for dinner.

“Where’s Dad? I haven’t seen him today.” Rosa snitched a clump of grapes from the fruit bowl.

“Taking a nap, I think,” she said. “We stayed out late last night to watch the boats. Too late, probably.”

Rosa’s mind turned back to an earlier conversation. “Bitsy, do you remember when Dad came to see you, claiming he had proof about Ben sinking the boat?”

Her hand froze above the oven dial. Then she gave it a twist. “I’m not sure. That was a long time ago.”

“He came to you and said he had photos proving that your brother sank
Poppy’s Dream.
”

“Scuttled is the technical term,” Pike said as he stepped into the kitchen in yet another pair of pristine painter’s overalls. “You must remember it Bitsy, unless Manny dreamed up the whole thing.”

“He’s confused now,” she snapped. “Don’t make fun of him for it.”

He frowned. “You know that’s not what I’m saying. This is an accusation from years ago and Manny lost his job over it, or so he says. What happened?”

“It’s old business. Why does it matter now?”

“It matters,” he said grimly. “I want to stop obsessing. My father wasn’t a criminal, was he?”

She wiped her hands on a dishtowel. “I remember that he came to the house and talked to Leo and me. Manny was regretful, not gloating, Pike. I want you to know that. He was almost sad to tell me about your father.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Anyway, he said he had photos that proved the boat was tampered with. He had another stop to make, and then he’d take the photos to be developed.”

Rosa wanted to stop the line of questioning, as it was obviously agitating Bitsy. “We can talk later, Aunt Bitsy.”

“No,” Pike said. “Now. What did you say?”

“I told him he was mistaken, that no matter how it looked, Ben did not commit fraud. He wouldn’t do that, especially when he knew how much the boat meant to you, Pike. The proof was stolen out of Manny’s car, he told us later.” She began to polish the handle of the stove.

“That was rather convenient,” Pike said. “Don’t you think? This supposed proof disappears from his car?”

“Pike Eugene Matthews. Manny is not a liar. As you said, he lost his job over that missing proof.”

Pike blew out an exasperated breath and ran his hands through his hair, which only served to enhance his boyish charm. “You’ve already said you believe my dad wasn’t lying, so which is it? Manny and my father can’t both be telling the truth. That’s a logical fallacy.”

“Young man,” she said archly, “you are my lawyer, so you will understand why I’m invoking my right to remain silent. I have potatoes to mash, green beans to string, and if you want to discuss the apple cobbler recipe then stick around and we’ll chat. Otherwise, please remove yourself from my kitchen, posthaste.”

Pike and Rosa exchanged a look and followed orders, stopping in the foyer.

“She would have made a great lawyer,” Pike said.

“I didn’t know your middle name was Eugene.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’ll need to take the fifth on that one, too, if anybody asks.”

“Or what?” She pointed to the brush in his hand. “You’ll prime and paint me?”

He gave her a wolfish smile, which made her regret her teasing tone.
Don’t let Pike take away your dream.

“I’m helping Rocky finish up the outside, but we had to stop because it’s raining,” Pike said.

“Maybe it will clear up in a little while.”

“TV guy says it’s a whopper of a storm with another right behind it. Uncharacteristic of the season.”

“That figures.”

* * *

P
IKE
HAD
VANISHED
outside to help Rocky bring painting supplies to the shed. It was just as well. Flashes from the night before kept chasing each other around in Rosa’s mind, leaving her with a head full of fog. There was no place in her life right now for a heart stuffed with emotional goo. She’d finally got that stubborn organ hardened and sealed over, and there was no way she would let anyone flay it open again.

She returned to the upstairs bathroom to apply one more coat of a soft satin paint to the ceiling. The old steel cabinet fixtures had already been swapped out for some rustic pulls and the floor overlaid with Marmoleum panels to give the illusion of a painted wood floor without the expense. Even through the plastic tarp, it looked fantastic. Cy’s nail mirror above the sink would enhance the feel she liked to call “refined rustic” and, at the same time, magnify the space.

The decorating details soothed her until she saw the little bead of paint oozing from underneath the lovely antique lamp set into the ceiling.

“I must be tired to leave a drip,” she grumped, pulling over the stepstool and climbing up. She reached out with the paintbrush to dab the drop away. It left an oozy smear. She checked her brush. Perfectly normal. No contaminants from the bristles to explain the weird residue.

“Cy,” she yelled. “Can you come here for a second?”

Cy was out of hearing range. Rosa clumped up another step and noted it was not one drop oozing from the lamp, but two. “What in the world?”

She unscrewed the button at the bottom of the lamp and carefully eased away the glass dome exposing the drywall underneath. The mystery ooze had formed a sticky trail around where the dome had been. She could see now that the edge of the Sheetrock was slightly raised. She pulled a penlight from her pocket and shined it into the gap.

Her scream echoed madly in the freshly painted confines of the bathroom.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

R
OSA
HAD
ALREADY
slammed the bathroom door, raced downstairs and through the foyer and pelted outside, before she rammed into Pike, who was on his way inside. She bounced off his chest and would have fallen if he hadn’t gripped her forearms and steadied her.

“Whoa, there. Did you scream?”

She nodded, heart knocking against her ribs.

His eyes searched her face. “Why?

She was too panicked to reply. Bitsy and Cy arrived at the same time, followed by Manny.

“What’s the problem? I heard a scream,” her father said, eyes crusted from sleep. “I must have dozed off.”

Pike bent close and cupped her chin, tipping her head. “What is it, Rosa?” he said, voice calm and insistent. “Tell us.”

“There are...” she sucked in breath. “In the bathroom. Millions.”

Pike tried again. “Millions of what in the bathroom?”

“Bees,” she cried, feeling the horror wash over her again. “Millions of them.”

“Bees? In the bathroom?” Bitsy asked.

“Yes,” Rosa squeezed out.

“Oh, don’t cry. We’ll fix it. We’ll...smoke them out or suck them up or whatever you do to bees.” Pike looked helplessly around. “She’s hyperventilating. What do we do? Should I get water or something?”

Manny elbowed forward and wrapped his arms around Rosa, patting her on the back. “It’s okay, princess. I know how you feel about bees.” He rubbed comforting circles on her back, and though she did not want to allow it, his touch soothed her the way it had twenty years before. It seemed her body ached for her father’s presence, in spite of her mind. She pressed her head to his chest.

“She stepped on a wasps’ nest when we were camping at Big Basin. Only five years old and did she ever get stung. They swarmed all over and twined in her hair, terrified her to no end. She’s been afraid of them ever since,” Manny explained.

“But those were wasps at Big Basin,” Cy pointed out, returning from a peek into the bathroom. “I think what we’ve got here is a honeybee situation.”

“Close enough,” Rosa said, trying to grab hold of her mutinous emotions. “I pulled down the lamp and I could see them up there in the attic space. Honey was dripping down through the ceiling.”

“Uh-oh,” Pike said. “That does not sound good. I’ll get Rocky. He’s got bee experience.” He moved away a step and then stopped. “Rosa, are you okay? If you’re not, uh, I can go get Rocky later and, you know, do something or other to help you.” His deer-in-the-crosshairs look almost made her smile.

She disentangled herself from her father and forced a breath in and out. “No, thank you. Sorry for the outburst. You go get Rocky. Maybe he’ll know what to do. And tell him to be careful of the Marmoleum.”

“That’s flooring,” Cy put in helpfully.

“Sounds like something you spread on toast,” Pike mumbled as he trotted off, Cy following along.

Manny took her hand and led her to one of the rocking chairs under the porch cover. “You just set a minute and you’ll feel better. You’ve had a shock, is all.” He eased down next to her, and together they looked through the falling rain toward the horizon, which was shrouded in a cape of clouds. The air was fresh, so clean it almost hurt to breathe it in.

A boat bobbed far out on the water, a stalwart fisherman who probably lived his whole life lifted and let down by those fickle waves. They listened to the soothing, ceaseless rumble of the sea.

“Dad,” she said.

“Yes, princess?”

“Back then, at Big Basin, when I got stung by the wasps, you stayed up all night with me.” She hesitated. “Do you remember?”

“Sure do.”

“And every time I thought I heard a buzz, you would turn on the flashlight and check. Every single time.”

He laughed. “I remember. Neither one of us got much sleep that night, did we?”

She sucked in a deep breath. “Thank you. I mean, it was nice, when you did that for me.”

He blinked hard and puffed out his lower lip. “Princess,” he said, “it was a privilege.” He squeezed her hand again and she felt the rough calluses and the thick fingernails that he didn’t cut regularly enough. Her fingertips recorded the steady staccato of the pulse tapping inside his wrist.

She thought she might start to cry, but Bitsy forced a cup of water into her hand and Baggy waddled his way up onto her lap. He had serious jumping power for a dog with markedly short legs.

Pike and Cy returned.

“Rocky’s gone to get his bee suit and smoker,” Cy said.

“And a super Shop-Vac to suck them all up?” Rosa asked.

Bitsy eyed her watch. “Roast will be ready soon. We can have dinner when he gets here and then let Rocky do his magic.”

Rosa hugged herself. “I’m fine here. You all go on inside and eat. I’m not hungry.”

Bitsy frowned. “We can make sure the kitchen doors stay closed. I think we’ll be safe from bees.”

“Aunt Bitsy, no offense, but there are a bazillion bees in your attic that got in without any of us noticing a thing. They’re stealthy. I’m staying out here until Rocky checks it out.”

“But Rosa, honey,” she tried again. “It’s pouring and it’s just going to get colder and colder. Come inside. I promise it will be okay.”

“I’m fine out here, really.” Rosa said.

Eventually, she convinced them to go inside and eat, though Bitsy insisted on wrapping Rosa in a sturdy wool blanket that had been vigorously shaken to ensure no bee hitchhikers were present.

Rosa’s stomach tightened into knots as she thought about the newest catastrophe keeping her from her goal. Despite the knots, though, her stomach also reminded her that she was, indeed, hungry. The smell of pot roast and garlic made her mouth water. It occurred to her she’d been so deep in decorating details, she had bypassed the cold sandwiches Bitsy provided at lunch. Didn’t matter. She was not going back into the Pelican until Rocky assured her the situation was under control. Certainly it wouldn’t take too long to suck up the swarming plague with a bee vac or whatever beekeeping equipment was apropos.

Her stomach grumbled louder. “Quiet, stomach,” she said. “Pot roast is not worth braving the bees for.”

“I don’t know,” Pike said, stepping onto the porch. “It’s a pretty stupendous pot roast.”

Pike eased out the front door holding two plates heaped with food.

“What’s all this?” She took a plate as he settled into the chair and fished two forks from the pocket of his overalls. From the other pocket, he retrieved some napkins.

“Unbelievable,” she said.

He held up an index finger. “Hold on.” Out also came a small glass jar with a stub of a candle in the bottom. He lit it with a match struck on the bottom of his shoe. Carefully, he set the jar on the railing.

She stared at the flickering flame. “You brought me dinner.”

“A candlelight dinner,” he said, smiling. “Am I awesome or what?”

She laughed, a nervous tickle in her stomach. “Yep, you’re awesome.”

“That explains my near-perfect SAT scores. I can’t take credit for the cooking, but the delivery service is all me.” He held up a fork and they clinked tines. “To bees, long may they buzz.”

Rosa clinked with a shudder. “They need to buzz somewhere else.”

An awkward silence grew between them. She forked up a mouthful of creamy potatoes followed by buttered peas. “Heaven. How does she do it?”

“She says she adds love, but I think there may also be dairy products and garlic involved.”

“No doubt.”

They ate in silence, enjoying the succulent beef and potatoes. Pike had even managed to pilfer two sourdough rolls, which he revealed in magician’s style from his wide front pocket. Her roll’s tender interior was still warm and she enjoyed every tiny morsel. The storm pushed at the little candle flame, sending it reeling in the night, but it steadfastly refused to go out. How delicate was a flame, she thought, and how tenacious.

If things were different, how could she not enjoy the company of a handsome, thoughtful man? But she would not, could not risk it.

As they settled back in their chairs, full of excellent food, Rosa sighed, snuggling the blanket around her. “Do you want to get another blanket?”

He shook his head. “I’m very manly, always warm.”

“Seriously. I don’t want you to be cold after you did such a nice thing and brought me dinner out here.”

“Helping you made me feel better.”

“Really?” She cocked her head. “Why?”

He shrugged. “Trying to improve the reputation of my lawyer clan, to show you we’re not all so bad.”

“Don’t try, Pike. Don’t try to make things okay for me. I let myself get used. I was a fool to let my heart get in the way of my head.”

“Doesn’t the heart ever get to win?” he asked quietly.

“Not now.” A throb of pain rose inside.
Maybe not ever.

* * *

A
HALF
HOUR
LATER
,
Stu helped Rocky pull on the bee suit and ready the smoker. Rocky waddled down the hall and stood ready at the foot of the stairs. Rosa peered through the front door. “Be careful, Rocky. They’re all armed.”

He nodded and headed upstairs for the bathroom. Rosa shut the front door again and pressed her face to the window. The minutes ticked by. Rocky would no doubt have smoked the bees into a trance by now.

She strained to see if Bitsy or Stu was standing by with the Shop-Vac. Rocky clomped down the stairs holding a canvas sack. Rosa bit back a scream and scooted off the porch into the rain as he emerged.

“Got the hive. Queen and all. Taking it to my place.” He eased the bag into a wooden box.

Rosa felt like cheering. “You’re fantastic, Rocky. I’m naming my first child after you, even if it’s a girl.”

“Had to saw a hole in the bathroom ceiling.”

She swallowed hard. Plenty of time to patch and mend a hole.

“But I think I sealed off their entrance into the inn.” Rocky took off his beekeeper’s hat. “I’ll come back and make sure there are no strays.”

It was a dream come true. The horrid bees were gone. It would be back to work in the morning. She hardly felt the rain pattering down on her head.

“And there’s the comb problem.”

“The what?” She circled around behind him as if he was a man-eating tiger.

“The comb. I removed most of the bees, but they’ve built a pretty massive honeycomb in the walls. Gotta remove it all.”

“The walls, plural?”

“Yeah. It extends through the downstairs and into the first floor bathroom. Some in the wall that adjoins the sitting room.”

Her moss-green and pearl-gray stripes. She took a breath. “Do you have to cut it out? Right now?”

“If you leave it in, the bees are just going to keep coming back. Other bees might decide to take up residence, too.”

“I’ll be running an inn for bees?” Bitsy said. “Leo would have found that hilarious.”

“There’s nothing hilarious about it,” Rosa wailed. “I’ve got two weeks left for this project. How can I finish with holes cut in walls and bees on the loose?”

“I’m good with drywall and texturing,” Manny said, munching on a roll. “I’ll deal with the repairs.”

“But what about the bees?” Rosa tried to glean an answer from the bewildered faces of her helpers. “How can I work with stray bees flying around?” She saw the solution in Rocky’s hands and grabbed the beekeeper’s hat, the netting fluttering in the wind.

So it’s come to this,
Rosa thought, grimly. She put the hat on and fired a look at Cy and Pike. “If either one of you so much as giggles...”

Cy and Pike almost managed to hide their grins.