A Spot at Starlight Beach (Spotted Cottage #3)

Three

The tea shop door knocked into Liam’s shoulder. He stepped forward, his bag hitting the woman in front of him. She shot a snarling look over her shoulder.

“Pardon me,” he muttered, stepping sideways into a wall, rattling the pictures in their frames.

“Is she really here?” a woman whispered behind him.

“She’d better be. I left work for this.”

A voice called out, “Bailey Jo, I love you!”

More shouting, more shoving. Liam pressed himself against the wall.

This couldn’t be the right place. It was awful here.

A loud whistle rang out and the room fell silent.

“Listen up! If you’re here for Bailey Jo, you’ve just missed her.”

It was as though the space deflated, letting out a huge, collective groan.

“Let us see her!”

“We know she’s here!”

“If you’d like some tea,” the authoritative voice continued, “you’re welcome to stay. We have poppy seed muffins and an orange chai latte that’ll ease your sorrows. Otherwise, see you next time!”

The group of women who had forced him into the wall filed past him and through the front door. Others followed in pairs and trios. When the floodwaters receded, the room was empty save for Liam and the woman who’d done the yelling.

She was tall, nearly as tall as he was, with short blonde hair that was dark at the roots. She had unsmiling red lips and her gray eyes scanned the room as though looking for bombs.

Liam stiffened his shoulders and took a step toward her. “Hello, I’m Liam Yorkley.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Are you here for tea?”

Tea. What a dream it’d be to have a cup of tea. His throat was raw from sleeping with his mouth open on the overnight train to Anchorage. He hadn’t managed to catch any sleep on the flight to Seattle, and the seaplane ride into Friday Harbor had been delayed by five hours.

“Thank you, but I’m eager to get settled.”

Her brow furrowed. “Settled where?”

The knot in his stomach tightened. He’d meant to get something to eat when he landed but it had seemed like too much hassle.

He took a deep breath. “Is Russell here? He’d told me to have the pilot fly me to Stuart Island. I spoke to Joey, I think it was? He said he needed clearance first.”

“Who are you, exactly?”

“Liam Yorkley.” His voice rose. “I met Russell in Denali National Park. I was the artist in residence there, and he invited me to stay on Stuart for a few weeks as the artist in residence.”

A second woman rounded the corner, a black apron tied around her waist. She smiled when she saw him. “Hi! Can I help you?”

“Unless you can get me to Stuart Island, I doubt it.”

“Since when do we have an artist in residence?” the blonde asked.

The other woman gasped. “Oh wait. I think he mentioned this to me.”

“But not to me, his assistant?” The blonde rolled her eyes. “I’m going to kill him.”

“Great. Do that, then you can take me next.” Liam dropped his bag on the floor. “But at least have the decency to give me a cup of tea first.”

The blonde narrowed her eyes. “All right, Liam Yorkley, this isn’t about you. It’s about my mom’s boyfriend, Russell. He’s not great with details.”

Liam let out a breath. “I see that.”

“I’m Eliza. It’s nice to meet you,” the aproned one said. “I’ll get you something. Yorkshire tea? We get it from London.”

It was sure to be horrible. “Thank you.”

“With milk?” she added.

He nodded, rubbing his shoulder. The bag was heavier than he’d realized, perhaps adding to his snappiness. “Please.”

“I wasn’t aware you were coming,” the blonde said, her tone decided much flatter. “I’m Mackenzie. I’m filling in as Russell’s assistant.”

“Hello, Mackenzie. Liam.”

“You mentioned that,” she said with a smirk. “Have a seat. Joey should be able to fly you out once you finish your tea.”

“Thank you.”

He was already embarrassed by what he’d said, though he couldn’t remember exactly what it was, only the sentiment, which was pierced with flame.

He walked as far from Mackenzie as possible, slipping into a chair by a window. It was wood, and hardly comfortable, but each second sunk him deeper into it, the muscles in his back and legs relaxing.

How many hours had it taken to get here? He had lost count, but clearly his body had not.

Light streamed through the window, falling onto the pastel linens. Pink and white flowers danced on the wallpaper, and doilies dusted the tables. He stared at them, unable to decide which of the two women who had greeted him had come up with such garish decorations.

However, miraculously, by the time his tea arrived, he almost liked the décor.

“Sorry about the confusion,” Eliza said, setting a plate in front of him. “I got you a few treats too – on the house. Welcome to the island!”

He forced a smile, avoiding her eyes. “That’s very kind. Thank you.”

There was a scone glazed with lines of sugar, a cookie dusted with cinnamon, and a small lemon loaf. She’d supplied a ramekin of butter with a little knife.

Liam picked up the scone and took a bite. Bits of orange and cranberry balanced the sugar, the flavors bursting in his mouth.

The dull ache in his stomach released. He quickly took another bite.

“That is quite good. Thank you,” he said.

“I know how hard it is to be far from home.”

He glanced up. She was looking down at him, smiling. There was nothing like kindness to bring the shame of his rudeness into the light.

“I’m sorry for my crabbiness—” he said, but she cut him off.

“Please. I understand. Getting here takes forever and many, many things can go wrong. But you’re here now! I think you’re going to like it.”

Steam rose from his teacup. He tipped in a bit of milk. “You might be right.”

“I’m going to get you another tea to try.”

“No, that’s quite all right.”

Too late. She was gone. He took a sip of tea and, outside, the sun peeked out from behind the clouds.

It was, shockingly, quite good.