4
How could so much go so wrong so fast?
Expelling a breath, Matt swiped the mop at the noxious-smelling waste that had spilled onto the bathroom floor and trickled into the hall from the toilet in the first-floor guest bathroom.
If this was an omen of what was to come, he was in serious trouble. Kay had only left five hours ago, for crying out loud.
Teeth gritted, he scrubbed at a stubborn glop of muck.
Taking his coffee out to the patio after using the facilities had been a big mistake. If he’d stayed inside, he’d have realized much sooner that the commode had morphed into overflow mode.
Instead, the modicum of calm he’d managed to achieve during the half hour he’d spent watching the ocean while he sipped his java was evaporating as fast as the capricious fog that had briefly descended after Kay drove away.
A splatter of gunk from the mop arced toward his light beige chinos, and he grimaced.
A shower and change of clothes would be in order as soon as he cleaned up this mess.
Averting his nose from the stench, he leaned down and wedged the mop behind the commode to scrub the floor back there.
As soon as he was done here, he’d have to plunge or snake-out the toilet. Assuming Kay had the appropriate tools on hand, of course. If she didn’t, he’d have to scrap his plans for the day and round up a plumber who could—
The doorbell chimed.
He straightened up.
Seriously? Someone wanted him to answer the door now?
Not happening.
No guests were booked, and he didn’t know a soul in town. If this was a delivery, the driver could leave the package at the front door.
He went back to mopping.
Thirty seconds later, the bell rang again.
He ignored it.
Another half minute passed.
Ding-dong.
Blast.
Whoever had come calling wasn’t going away.
Jamming his fingers through his hair, he tossed the mop aside, marched to the door, and flung it open. “Yes?”
At his abrupt greeting, the slender, thirtysomething woman on the other side gave him a fast once-over and took a step back. “Um . . . is Kay Marshall here?”
“No.”
“Do you know when she’ll be back?”
“Not for a month.”
“Oh. Um . . . who’s in charge of the B&B?”
“You’re looking at him.”
Her nose twitched, and she retreated another step.
The stink must be wafting her way.
“I was, uh, hoping to . . .” She gave him another perusal as her voice trailed off.
The woman was clearly discombobulated.
Apparently being greeted by a disheveled man reeking of sewage had freaked her out.
While she inspected him, he took his own inventory.
Five-fourish, using his six-foot frame as a reference. Wavy, long brown hair secured by barrettes on either side of a center part. Jeans that hugged her curves and had designer written all over them. A soft-looking sweater the same deep blue hue as her eyes. Slightly asymmetrical features that kept her from being a classic beauty but gave her face an arresting quality more than sufficient to prompt a second glance from men in the market for female companionship.
Which excluded him.
But what was she doing here, and why did she want to talk to Kay?
“You were saying?” He folded his arms.
“Um . . . that’s okay.” She groped through her purse and withdrew her keys. “It wasn’t that important. Have a nice day.”
She swiveled away and took off at a trot for her car. Even from a distance, he could hear the locks click into place after she slid behind the wheel and closed the door. Then she backed out, leaving the B&B behind in a spurt of gravel. Fleeing as if the hounds of hell were after her.
Weird.
And she’d never said what her business was with Kay.
As the dust cloud behind her car dissipated and she vanished from view, he shrugged and closed the door.
Back to his revolting task.
But he jolted to a stop when he caught sight of himself in the large mirror above the credenza in the foyer.
Whoa.
His hair looked like he’d stuck his finger into an electrical outlet, there was a smear on the front of his shirt, and the sewage splash marks on his pants had migrated upward.
Add in the smell, and it was no wonder the woman had turned tail and run.
Plus, he hadn’t exactly been welcoming. A smile might have spooked her less than a scowl.
He continued back to his discarded mop and resumed cleanup duties. It wasn’t as if he’d ever see her again. Unless he’d misread her, the lady had no intention of darkening the Beachview B&B doorway again anytime in the foreseeable future.
Fine by him.
He had work to do here, starting with this misbehaving toilet, and he didn’t need any distractions.
Especially the kind an attractive woman could cause even for a man with zero interest in romance.
Well, that strange visit had dashed any hopes of finding a temporary home at Beachview B&B.
Halfway down Starfish Pier Road, Vienna finally slowed her car after escaping from the house of horrors.
From its rutted road to its wobbly shutters to its missing shakes, the place was in desperate need of sprucing up. As was the foul-smelling, glowering man who’d answered the door.
Who was he, anyway?
And where was the owner?
He hadn’t offered either of those pieces of information—but it was doubtful he would have answered her questions if she’d broached them. He hadn’t come across as the warm, welcoming, talkative type.
Not that it mattered.
If the owner was gone, she was out of luck.
It appeared a daily commute was in her future.
She hung a right on 101 and accelerated back toward town. A Sweet Dreams brownie would help mitigate her disappointment over the B&B while she lined up other accommodations.
If nothing else, the drive back and forth between wherever she landed and Hope Harbor might spur her to get on the stick and begin giving serious thought to her future instead of spending her days taking walks on the beach, sightseeing, and putzing around with her resume.
She turned off the highway and drove through town, passing the street that was home to Mom’s bookshop. On Dockside Drive, she hung a right, scanning the street for a parking place near—
Wait.
Charley’s window was up.
The resident sage and taco-making artist must be back from Mexico.
Great news.
Switching plans, Vienna grabbed the closest parking spot she could find and picked up her purse. In her present state of mind, an order of tacos served with a side of philosophy would offer much more comfort than a brownie.
No one was in line as she approached the stand, a rarity based on past experience. She and Mom had always had to join a queue during their visits.
Charley swiveled toward her from behind the serving window as she approached, his long gray hair pulled back into a ponytail beneath his usual Ducks baseball cap.
As she drew close, a gleam of recognition sparked in his dark irises, and he gave her one of his dazzling smiles. The kind that had always made her feel like he was delighted to see her and that she’d have his undivided attention for as long as she needed it. “Well, if it isn’t Vienna Price. Long time no see.”
“You remember me.” A rush of warmth filled her heart.
“Of course.”
“But Mom and I only visited a few times, and our last trip was ten years ago. You must have a remarkable memory.”
“Not for everything. But the people who cross my path? Absolutely. Can I make you an order of tacos while we chat?”
“Please.” Her lips flexed at the “cash only” sign taped to the window. “I see you still haven’t entered the electronic age.”
“Never. I prefer greenbacks in my hand to digital wallets, and face-to-face conversations over texts. Both are much more real.” He opened a cooler and pulled out a couple of fish fillets. “What brings you to our charming little town, aside from visiting your mom?”
She narrowed her eyes as he began chopping a red onion.
Why would he think she had another reason for coming—unless her mother had mentioned her visit to him since he’d returned from Mexico?
“What did Mom tell you about my trip?”
“Not a thing.” He tossed the red onion on a sizzling griddle, set three corn tortillas on the grill beside the fish, and angled toward her. “I left ten days ago and only returned last night. You’re my first customer of the day. I assume your trip was spur of the moment or Bev would have mentioned it before I left.”
She gave the wharf a sweep.
No one must yet have noticed Charley was back in business or there would be a steady stream of customers descending on the stand.
An ideal, private opportunity to share her story.
“As usual, your reasoning is astute. I lost my job.” She gave him a quick recap of her career crisis.
Concern softened his features. “I’m sorry to hear that. From everything Bev’s told me, it sounded as if you’d found your niche. But I’m glad you came here to regroup. Hope Harbor is a wonderful refuge for those seeking healing and peace.”
“I’m searching more for direction than anything else.”
“You may find that here too. Stranger things have happened.” He flipped the fish. “Are you staying with Bev?”
Another sticky subject.
“No. We have very different personalities that sometimes clash. Sharing her small apartment could be problematic. I was staying at the Gull, but that fell through this morning.” She filled him in.
“Have you tried Beachview B&B? It’s not far from Bev’s apartment. I know it was shut down for a while, but it may be open again.” He began assembling the tacos, sprinkling them with seasoning from a shaker can and adding a dollop of his special sauce with a squeeze bottle.
“I just came from there. It’s still not open, but I was hoping to convince the owner to let me have a room, minus the breakfast. The man who answered the door told me she was gone for a month.”
“Kay was gone, and a man answered the door?” Charley began wrapping the tacos in white paper. “I’ll have to catch up on everything I missed during my trip. So what are you going to do?”
“Find a spot in Bandon or Coos Bay, I guess. The commute will be manageable for a short-term stay.” If inconvenient.
“Maybe other accommodations will turn up closer to home.”
Not much chance of that with the Gull unavailable, Seabird Inn booked, and Beachview B&B out of service.
But Charley had always been the optimistic sort.
“I suppose that could happen.” She dug her wallet out of her purse, counted out several bills, and slid them across the serving window.
“Anything is possible.” His confident tone suggested that a better solution to her housing dilemma was already a done deal. “I added a bottle of water to your bag. Why don’t you mosey over there and enjoy the view?” He motioned to an empty bench down the wharf, past one occupied by a young couple.
“I’ll do that. I can’t wait to sink my teeth into these.” She lifted the bag from the counter. “My mouth always waters whenever I think about them from past trips.”
“Music to a taco maker’s ears.” He flicked a glance past her shoulder as several people converged on the taco stand.
“News of your return must have spread. I’m glad I got here first.”
“I am too. Enjoy your lunch. And welcome home.”
Before she could respond, he greeted the approaching customers.
Leaving the stand behind, she mulled over his parting words.
Welcome home, not welcome back.
Hope Harbor was a lovely place to visit, but it would never be home. There were no jobs in her field here. At least none with the potential to give her the perks and benefits and salary that came with the executive-level position she’d always set her sights on.
As she approached the man and woman who were deep in conversation on the first bench, snippets of their exchange filtered toward her.
“—never expected to have to start over.” The woman’s comment was tear-laced.
“I’m sorry, Paige. If I could change what happened, I would.”
Dejection hovered over the duo like a dark rain cloud.
Vienna gave them a surreptitious peek as she passed.
Twentysomethings, dressed in casual attire, shoulders slumped, heads bowed, seemingly oblivious to their surroundings.
She kept moving, but their voices followed her.
“I still can’t believe Jack betrayed us.” The woman’s words were choked.
“I know. And why would he take a chance that could ruin his life? Did ruin his life.”
“It also ruined our reputation. Oh, Andrew.” Her voice caught on a sob. “Now we’ve lost everything we worked so hard for. And the leaky tent is—”
Their voices faded as Vienna continued down the wharf and claimed the empty bench.
Apparently she wasn’t the only one in town with problems. Others, it seemed, had even bigger issues than she did. She may have lost her job, but she hadn’t lost everything—including her reputation. She’d rebound. Yes, getting sacked had been a terrible blow, but the resume she’d been revamping was impressive. She’d find another position long before she had to dip too deep into her financial reserves.
It didn’t sound like that couple’s prospects were anywhere near as hopeful as hers.
Vienna pulled out her bottle of water, giving them another quick assessment while she unwrapped the first taco.
Their huddled posture was defeat and misery personified.
It was a shame she couldn’t help them in some way.
But they were strangers. All she could do was offer a prayer on their behalf and hope they found a resolution to whatever calamity had befallen them.