A Shore Thing (5 page)

“I’ll make some calls, you make some calls, and see who we can find to make some noise about this. Can you imagine Otter Bay without this open land?”

My listlessness returned. “No, I can’t. I don’t know what has happened to change the Kitteridges’ mind, but it must be serious.” I found Ruth’s eyes. “I’ve been hoping to speak with them directly, to see if they might work with us to come up with a solution.”

“Go ahead and do it, but I’m not holding my breath. Now, let’s figure this out.” She peered into the sky as if it had a mighty day planner stretched across it. “Let’s meet at the RAG, say, Thursday morning at nine, after the breakfast crowd goes. You in?”

I hesitated, a tightness squeezing the muscles of my chest. I loved the beachside diner located near a spattering of quaint inns north of here. But had I gathered enough information yet for a meeting? “Okay.” I paused. Still unable to fully fill my lungs with air. Agreeing to meet with others on this matter some how hadn’t given me the lift I expected. “I’ll come.”

Ruth grabbed the bag of trash and slung it over one shoulder. She took another look at Gage in the distance and curled her lip, her cheek scrunching into that familiar grimace as she tossed me a wave and continued on with her volunteer work.

GAGE

FROM HIS POST ON the hill, Gage stopped mid-pace. He straightened and shaded his eyes with a notebook, the other hand poised in a greeting. Even from this distance, he could see the scowl forming on her face. Callie’s dog tugged at the leash wound around her hand, and she spun toward the beach, giving Gage her back.

The congenial smile he hoped to convey, faded. He followed a path down the hill toward the sea, watching her use a boulder to steady herself for the climb down the cliff. He could’ve gone back to his work then. Maybe he should have. Instead, he found himself stopping an awkward distance away, watching her.

She spun back around then with a force that caused him to reel slightly before righting himself. He watched the sunlight glint of the waves of her hair as she stomped toward him, and wearing a look that told him she had something to say.

She cocked her chin. “Didn’t take enough notes yesterday?”

He felt a smile glide back onto his face. “Hello, again, Callie. Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

She paused. “You know, unless you’re being paid by the hour, your wallet might be better off if you didn’t spend so much time around here. Could be a big waste.”

He shrugged, still smiling, and glanced around. He let his arms rest by his sides, one hand still grasping a yellow legal pad and a fat pencil. “I don’t mind at all. I still have much to work through and besides.” His eyes found hers again, and he concentrated so she wouldn’t see laughter behind them. “Can’t beat the view.”

She gripped doggy’s leash and he strained against it. “But that’s exactly what you and your cronies are trying to do—beat the view.”

“Actually, I’m trying to work within it.” He held up his pad of notes. “That’s why I’m here again now studying the site. I like to sit, and to listen . . . to get a feel for what the land is saying.”

She crossed her arms, the leash still firmly in her grip. “I’ll tell you what it’s saying. It’s saying, ‘Mosey on now, there’s nothing for you here.’”

He couldn’t stop himself then and a guffaw blurted from him. Her eyes narrowed, the only reaction to his show of emotion. Gage cleared his throat and looked out to sea. “Have you ever watched closely where the sun falls at different times of day?”

“Sure. I guess.”

“Whenever I build anything, I study the light carefully. Make sense?”

Her pursed lips twitched before answering him. “Energy efficiency is important.”

“Sure it is. But there are other things to consider. For instance, northern light produces the most even rays. That’s what your typical artist studio would need. On the other hand, southern light may provide the best illumination, but it’s positioned so high that it won’t provide optimum heat.”

She pulled the leash taut. “So it wouldn’t be the best in cool climates, then.”

His smile grew across his face, slowly at first, then open and wide. She tried to keep up the bravado, but he could tell by the way her mouth and eyes relaxed, that she was softening. “You’re following me.”

She shrugged then, refusing to make eye contact with him. “I read.”

He paused. “Still upset about the plans for this property?” He knew the answer before asking the question.

She turned her head toward the ocean and he did as well, taking in its variant blues and greens. Who wouldn’t be upset to lose access to something so mighty yet peaceful all at the same time? But she knew . . . she
had
to know that the sea didn’t belong to the people of this town, and neither did this land. Leaving it untouched as the Kitteridges had all these years was more than generous, and yet, if one could view a heart aching from disappointment, then Callie’s appeared to need some medical attention.

The only kind he could offer was education. He detected a kindred spirit underneath all that animosity. If only he could explain to her his plans . . .

She swallowed, clearing her voice. “I played here when I was little.”

He nodded. “So it’s a sentimental attachment then?”

One side of her mouth clenched, and her eyes grew hard and small again, marring her pretty face. “Something’s not right,” she said, finally. “I can feel it, and I’m going to do everything in my power to halt this supposed project from going forward. Maybe the Kitteridges just need to rethink it.” She dropped her gaze to the ground, as if trying to shake off some distant memory.

Gage felt his brows lift—both of them—and his mouth tightened against his cheek. “What’s to rethink? They’re being offered a ton of money for bare land that runs to the sea. If they’re like most people, they’ll take the money and head out of here.”

“This is where their friends are.”

“They’ll make friends elsewhere. Believe me, people do it all time, and with money in the bank, it’ll be easy for them.”

A beat of silence passed. He tried not to stare as she tamped down her frustration. He could almost read her mind:
Who is this man to suggest that the Kitteridges would turn away from their friends and their promises that easily?
But he knew the human condition could be greedy and unkind. Surely she wasn’t as naive as she appeared.

Instead of acknowledging the truth in what he said, Callie toyed with the rope in her hand and challenged him with a stare. “Something you know about personally then?”

His jaw jerked upward and he shook his head slowly. “I’m not the enemy, you know.

“You just work for him.”

He nodded once and stepped backward. If she wanted to feel his dismissal, then so be it. “Enjoy your walk, Callie. I don’t doubt that we’ll be running across each other in the near future.” Even he knew that statement could not be accurate in a town so small that even stray animals run into each other.

A gull floated down on a gust of wind and landed on a rock. Callie’s dog whined and tugged at his leash. Gage geared up to walk away from her then, even though he sensed that her every nerve stood at attention, as if preparing for battle.

She spoke to his back. “Once the Kitteridges return from wherever they’ve gone, we’ll all see how wrong you are.”

He sent her a wave knowing full well it looked more like a salute. A patronizing salute.

Chapter Five

“Still no one missing a dog, huh?” I lean into the receiver and swiveled my chair to take another peek at Doggy. Those soulful eyes melted me.

Aida, the harried director from the rescue shelter, assured me again that my new companion, the one with shedding hair, who begged for scraps and expanded my heart, was all mine.

After I hung up, I bent forward in my chair as the doggy scurried to my feet. “Well, boy, if you’re going to live here, you’re going to have to have a name.” My hands dug into his fur and massaged behind his ears. “Do you prefer a regular guy name like Jack or Steve? Or how about a beachy name like the counselors at camp get?”

He leaned his head to one side, one floppy ear grazing his shoulder.

I cooed in his face. “So you’re saying it’s up to me, huh? All right then, I’ve decided. With those big round eyes of yours, you, my dear, are now
Moondoggy.
” This time my head cocked to the side. “What do you think?”

In a flash his front paws landed in my lap and he leaned against me, his tongue bouncing. I laughed. “I take that as an approval.” With a sneeze, he pushed away from me and his nails clacked down the hallway.

So like a man.
With a sigh I dug into my purse. Unlike the rest of the world, I didn’t carry my cell phone everywhere, so I was not surprised to find three voice mails. Did I have time for this? I still had to revise the cabin assignments for this coming weekend’s camp and then fax them to our cabin coordinator, Luz. The mail symbol throbbing at the top of my screen won out and I dialed.

“Hello, Callie, it’s Marie from the church. I’m wondering if you’ll be here on Thursday for food distribution? Since it’s still somewhat chilly outside, we’d also like to give away sweaters and sweatshirts that we’ve collected, which means we’ll need you for a longer time. Oh, I hope you’ll be here. Call me.”

Food distribution! I’d forgotten all about that when making plans to meet Ruth. I made a note to call Marie with my regrets.

“Callie. Meredith Smythe from the American Cancer Society. Are you available to make phone calls for us this week? We’d sure love to have you. Please return my call. Thanks.”

I jotted it down.

“Hello? Oh, my. Timothy! Timothy! Turn down that racket! I can’t hear myself think. Callie? Oh, for heaven’s sake. This is June Kitteridge returning your call from . . . yesterday was it? Oh, dear, I’ve already erased the message. Anyhow, we were out of town but we’re home now and . . . Timothy! I can’t hear! Oh, never mind. Feel free to call me back, dear, if you need something. So long.”

Faster than rolling thunder, guilt spread through me like those hot flashes Mother always went on about, burning and unforgiving, making me sweat. Could I not have waited a few days before pursuing answers about the Kitteridge property? The more I played it over in my head, the more my body began to suffocate as if wrapped in a wool blanket during a summer heat wave.

I pictured my confrontation with those survey goons from yesterday. And today I blabbed about the development rumors to Ruth—a woman who had no qualms over making Steph Hickey, our perpetually pregnant town librarian, cry. Not to mention the tutorial Gage gave me today on sustainable housing that evolved into a standoff.

Maybe all of it was for naught. Could a heartfelt chat with June Kitteridge bring about a speedy antidote for our town’s affliction?

My phone buzzed in my palm, causing me to yelp. Moondoggy came running and I hurried to pick it up from where it bounced across the hardwood then plopped onto the floor. “Hello?”

“Hello, Auntie Callie.” Greta’s voice sounded more like a giggle when she spoke.

My mind lurched toward another concern. “Hey G—you’re not—”

“No baby yet.” Greta giggled, this time for real. “Silly girl, it’s still two months off. Just calling to see if you’ll go paint shopping with me this afternoon.”

I scooted my butt up against the wall and leaned back. Moondoggy licked my cheek and I pushed him away, trying not to get a mouthful of dog spit. “Pregnant women shouldn’t be buying paint. It’s not safe. How about we go check out this cool organic cotton store that just opened in downtown SLO instead.” Greta loved San Luis Obispo, a college town just south of us.

“A lot of good that’ll do me if I don’t have a nicely painted room to put them in.” Greta’s voice picked up speed. “I want to buy low VOC paint for the baby’s room.”

Good for you. Low Volatile Organic Compound paint will be better for everyone.
“Try no-VOC, if you can. Low still has some dangerous fumes.”

“This is exactly why I called you, girlfriend. See? You know all about this
green
stuff. Anyway, since I’ve finally decided on a color, I want to see how it looks on the walls. Bobby promised me some time this weekend. Did I tell you? I’m going with teal.”

My head rested against the wall and I smiled at the ceiling. “You sure? ’Cuz no VOC paint ain’t cheap.”

“I’m sure. So will you go? I need you to make sure I’m getting the right stuff and the correct shade of teal.”

“There’s more than one shade of teal?”

Greta’s giggles filled the phone. “Stop that. Laughing makes me have to tinkle. Yes, of course there’s more than one shade. Think of all those trees you’re always going on about. They’re not all the same shade of pine green, now are they?”

“No, I guess not.”

“No, they are not. So are you going to help me or is little Tsunami or Bluebella going to have to live in a plain, ol’ beige room?”

I smacked my forehead and leaned my head into my hand. “Enough with the weird baby names. Okay, I’ll go. What time?”

“Afternoon-ish?”

“I’ll pick you up at one.”

With plans for the rest of the day made, I considered whether now would be the perfect time to call the Kitteridges and ask the burning questions. Or not. The pacing began. Was this really any of my business what the Kitteridges did with their property?