3. Chapter 3
three
Vinalhaven Ferry Service, Vinalhaven Island, Maine
Chris Sullens drove off the ferry that had taken him from Rockland on the mainland and followed his fellow travelers down a concrete path leading to a tiny terminal. He noticed a rocky cove and a patch of pine woods to his left, but beyond that, he only saw the curve of a two-lane road leading to town.
The ferry ride to Vinalhaven island lasted a little over an hour. It was a beautiful ride on a gorgeous day like today. The water was calm, and the slight wind on the open water brought the cool temperature down a bit, but the sun felt heavenly.
When they approached the island, the sight of the lobstering fleet peppering Carver’s harbor gave him a promise of an idyllic New England summer island retreat. However, he wasn’t impressed once he was on land and mainly met with asphalt and gravel.
Vinalhaven is definitely not Martha ’ s Vineyard , Chris thought critically. But his hotelier-scouting instinct warned him that there was more potential to be uncovered on this island. The ferry terminal wasn’t one to write about, but one just had to turn their gaze on the cove and rocky water’s edge to admit that it was beautiful here .
The few locals coming off the ferry got into their rides and drove away. Others—day-trippers or summer visitors—had a ride set up or started on foot into town. The ferry could only accommodate a few vehicles, and his motorbike didn’t take that much room.
He followed slowly behind a few cars and passed some tourists walking into town. He kept his eyes peeled and his mind opened. It wasn’t rare for him to explore a humble prospective location; it was his job to recognize the promises a place could offer. With that in mind, he absorbed everything he saw.
A short line of people in front of a red food truck parked in a small strip mall parking lot grabbed his attention. Curious, he turned into the lot and parked his bike. He was somewhat hungry, so he approached the small crowd and joined the line. With a nod of appreciation, he studied the menu etched on a chalkboard on the side of the still-closed truck. Creative sandwiches, burgers, and lobster rolls were in the offering, and the aroma wafting from the truck’s vent made his stomach rumble.
“What’s good here?” Chris asked the man in his early twenties in front of him.
The guy turned to him and grinned. “What’s not good?”
“Well, that’s a glowing review.”
“You just got off the ferry?” The guy looked over to where Chris’ bike was parked. “I saw you rolling in. Cool bike!”
“Thanks.” Chris smiled.
“What kind of a motorcycle is it?”
“It’s a BMW R 18.”
“Sweet ride. Where did you ride it from?” asked the excited man.
“New York.”
“No shit. How does it handle on the highway?”
“Steady. But I mostly drove the side roads, taking my time and enjoying the scenery. You know?” Chris grinned as he recalled his two-day ride.
He chose a slower, leisurely ride on the motorcycle he kept in the garage most of the year. He rode it on a beautiful day once in a while, but for a couple of weeks every summer, he liked to ride it home for his annual visit with his father. First, it was for the free feeling of riding alone on a powerful beast. Second, it pissed the hell out of his father. Yes, it was childish of him, but nothing tickled him more than to see the scowl on George Sullens’ face every time he rolled in on his motorcycle.
“Cool.” The other man nodded, agreeing that he knew exactly what Chris meant.
The proprietor of Gary’s Food Truck finally opened the windows for business, and the line quickly started moving. Chris glanced at his watch. Eleven. Perfect time for an early lunch of lobster roll and fries.
After a short wait, Chris finally got food. There were a couple of picnic tables near the truck, but he sat on a huge rock by the water’s edge, facing the harbor, to enjoy his lunch. He didn’t realize how hungry he was and went for his first bite.
“Oh, that is good,” he murmured as the taste of fresh juicy lobster meat dressed lightly in seasoned mayonnaise in a perfectly toasted bun hit his tongue. Such a simple meal, but it hit the spot.
He devoured the rest of the roll in four more bites. And while he munched on the fries, a seal popped its head out of the water less than ten yards from him.
“Well, hello there.” Chris grinned at the animal, which proceeded to swim around anchored boats toward a rocky islet across the other side of the cove’s mouth. Another seal wasn’t too far behind.
Great lobster rolls and casual seal watching—two points for Vinalhaven.
Chris pulled out his phone and sent some pictures of the view and the quaint port town to the person who was the reason he was on the island in the first place.
He texted, Arrived in Vinalhaven. It ’ s beautiful out here.
A few seconds later, his phone lit up with a call from his friend, Rae Allen.
“Those pictures are gorgeous,” Rae exclaimed after Chris barely said hello. “You saw seals?”
“I did.”
“My gosh, I can’t believe I’ve never been there.” Rae sounded like an eager girl who had never left her little town instead of the well-known world traveler that she was. That enthusiasm was what endeared her to her followers.
“You have a reason now. You’re a landowner,” Chris pointed out .
The reminder seemed to dampen her excitement. A couple of weeks back, Rae had received letters with devastating news, which had compelled Chris to offer her his assistance.
“You know I don’t care about the land my father left me,” Rae said.
“It is still a third yours, Rae. I know you didn’t ask for it, and sharing the estate with two other people you don’t know is complicated, but that’s why I’m here.”
Rae’s estranged father, Neal Kelly, had passed away, leaving a large estate to his children—Rae and the two children he’d actually raised. Chris felt it was thoughtless for Rae’s father to do this from the grave. Why wouldn’t he have reached out to the daughter he’d abandoned as a child while he’d still been breathing? Why push her into this awkward situation with practical strangers?
Blood isn ’ t always thicker .
“Thank you for doing this for me,” Rae said.
“I’d do anything for you and Dean. You need to take care of yourself first. What did your doctor say?”
“She wants me to take things easy for a couple more weeks until I get into my second trimester, but I feel great,” Rae explained. “Dean didn’t have to rope you into my problem, Chris.”
Dean Rowland, Rae’s husband, was Chris’ best friend. He’d reached out to Chris, telling him that Rae had inherited an over two-hundred-acre estate that included a working farm and an inn. Dean was concerned, as any husband would be, about how this inheritance and having siblings she’d never met before would impact his pregnant wife’s well-being.
On top of that, Dean was a very wealthy man. Being born into privilege himself, Chris was no stranger to people trying to be in his circle because of his last name. It was convenient that Rae’s estranged family suddenly contacted her now that she was married to a billionaire. Chris thought it wouldn’t hurt for him to poke around a bit.
Brandon Rossi, Rae’s best friend, and Chris had joined forces a few years back to reunite Dean and Rae. If it weren’t for their intervention, the stubborn couple might’ve not been married for over three years with a one-year-old daughter and another baby on the way.
Rae laughed. “Brandon keeps asking me for updates when he should be enjoying his time with Callie and Ella. ”
The recently married Brandon was in Paris for the summer after spending the last six months stateside. Chris could see Brandon worrying about Rae. Barring Dean, nobody else knew Rae and her tough upbringing better than Brandon did.
“Let him know I got this handled,” Chris said.
“We could’ve gone through the lawyers and not bothered you,” Rae still worried.
“It isn’t a bother, Rae. I was going to the Cape to see my dad anyway. This is merely a scenic detour. Besides, I’m the best person for this job. I’ll assess the estate, the farm, and the inn and tell you what I learn from the ground. I’ll gauge Kieran and Rowan Kelly for you and see what they’re up to.”
Chris was wired for this kind of work as a born-and-bred hotelier. He traveled worldwide, looking for the next picturesque spot for his series of resorts. Sometimes, spots that were quite remote had the best potential. One had to have the right eye to see them.
He’d be able to tell if Bright Head Farm & Inn was worth investing in or would cost Rae a financial and emotional drain. He just needed to see it for himself.
“Are you still planning to drop in on them unannounced?” Rae asked.
“Uh-huh.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Chris had told Rae he wanted to see the property in its natural state, just like she would prefer a hotel or B&B’s staff not knowing she was reviewing their establishment. It’d give them a more honest view of the property, the business, and the proprietors. To his thinking, why should he treat Bright Head any differently?
“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle,” Chris assured. “I just want to see the place as it is.”
“Tread lightly, please. Sooner or later, I will have to face my half-siblings.”
“I understand. I just want to see what type of people they are.”
“I trust your judgment. You have a good gauge of people. Thank you, Chris,” Rae ended the call.
Chris disposed of his trash and stared across the harbor toward the small town center. He put away his concern for Rae and got his scouting head on. To do this favor for his friend, he’d better put any bias aside.
Okay, Vinalhaven. Show me what you got.
Chris continued his short ride into town and noted a pizza parlor, convenience store, boat yard, fire department, bank, and small businesses. He spotted a contemporary-looking restaurant, a coffee shop, some stores, and a food market in downtown proper. There was also a hotel where he had a reservation for the night.
A parked red truck caught his eye. The words Bright Head Farm & Inn were painted white on the doors. He wondered if the driver was nearby. Maybe he could get insights from the Bright Head Farm & Inn staff before he made his way there.
From what he’d found through a basic web search, Bright Head was north of town, in Long Cove. He’d studied the island map and found the location would be ideal if he were to build one of his resorts here. It was isolated enough for privacy, with calmer and shallower water perfect for recreation. And it was only twenty minutes from town if guests wanted to check out the restaurants and stores.
The place would need to offer top-notch amenities to keep guests happy. Good food would be essential. Water sports and other outdoor activities would be a given. A great spa would be a plus. But on this island, transportation would be necessary because most tourists wouldn’t have their own cars.
He’d assess those matters when he got to Bright Head. But now he was in town. He found a spot to park his bike and started to stroll the short length of the Vinalhaven downtown strip.
Less than a half hour later, Chris sat on one of the few seats in the small coffee shop he’d seen earlier. He’d walked the entire rows of businesses, gone into every store, checked the menu of every food establishment.
He sipped his coffee and nodded his approval. He loved his cup of joe dark with a full body, and the girl behind the counter served him a potent brew. They offered a selection of cappuccinos, lattes, teas, and the like, with pastries to go with the drinks, so tourists who were used to fancy coffee wouldn’t feel too deprived .
Chris checked his emails on his phone. He was supposedly on vacation, but he always had difficulty disconnecting. After working to establish three resorts in five years, he could use the rest. Maybe he’d stay a day or two longer to relax. He’s got a feeling there was more to Vinalhaven than what he’d seen.
There were two emails from his father’s assistant. One to remind him that his father expected to see him next week and another to ask him to confirm his ETA. Chris ignored those emails and concentrated on the ones he cared about.
Chris looked up from his phone when the door to the coffee shop opened. Two women walked in having a discussion. The contrast between the two ladies caught his interest.
The taller one was dressed in a white shirt tucked into a pair of loose blue jeans that looked more comfortable than fashionable. Her braided black hair and almond-shaped brown eyes indicated she was of Asian descent. She listened to the more petite one in cutoff jean shorts and a rust-colored T-shirt that flaunted her curves, with her hair wound and tucked under a trucker’s hat. The cap’s bill shadowed her eyes.
He overheard the tall one say, “I have a couple of new recruits I’ve been training. They’re new to the island—starting over, you can say.”
“Are they trustworthy?” Petite asked with a slight frown.
Chris’ ears perked at the rich alto timbre coming out of Petite. Not what he expected at all.
“They’ve been vetted.”
“All right.” Petite shrugged. “I’ll see you at Bright Head at nine, then?”
“I’ll be there.” The other lady smiled. “Can I buy you coffee before you go?”
“Thanks, maybe another time. I have to pick up the chefs at the ferry and then head back.” Petite winked and flashed a toothy grin. “Until tomorrow.”
Did the sexy-voiced-petite say Bright Head?
Before Chris could gather his cup and stand, the petite woman had already disappeared out the door. He rushed out and spotted her walking around the red truck he’d seen earlier.
“Excuse me, miss,” Chris called out as he approached.
The woman stopped, turned her head toward his direction, then looked up at his face as he smiled at her. “Yes? ”
“I’m sorry to bother you, but do you work at the Bright Head Farm & Inn at Long Cove?” Chris asked.
Her gaze behind her sunglasses went slowly to the truck’s door as if saying duh . “Why do you ask?”
“I’m heading up there to see the owners.” Chris turned up the wattage in his smile to look as harmless as possible. “I was wondering if you could give me—”
Her eyes narrowed as she cut him off, “Do you have an appointment? I wasn’t informed to pick up anyone besides our chefs from the ferry.”
“I want to surprise them,” Chris casually answered. He bluffed his way through conversations with or about people he should’ve “known” all the time.
“How are they, anyhow? Rowan and Kieran?” Dropping first names always helped gain trust.
She finally smiled. “Oh, you’re a friend of the Kellys?”
“Uh…” Chris didn’t want to lie outright, so he just shrugged while maintaining an amiable expression.
“I’m sorry, what’s your name again?” she asked.
“Chris.”
“I tell you what, Chris,” she said as she retreated. “I won’t spoil your surprise, but unfortunately, I can’t give you a ride. Not enough room in the cab, you see. Two people are waiting for me at the ferry terminal with their luggage. You understand?”
“I wasn’t—”
“A shuttle from the hotel down the street runs past us.” She didn’t listen to his answer as she walked to the driver’s side door. “I’m sure they’ll be willing to drop you off.”
“Don’t you have a shuttle for your guests?” Chris questioned, a little miffed by her brusque dismissal. But he might as well try to get some information.
“Currently, I’m all there is,” she flashed him a cheeky grin. “I’m sorry, I can’t accommodate you unless you’d be willing to ride on the…”
She gestured to the bed of her truck, which was already filled with cans of paint and what looked like maintenance supplies.
“It won’t be comfortable, though.” She added, “Can I suggest a bicycle? It’s a great day for it.”
“I have a bike,” Chris answered. “But—”
“Perfect! I’m sorry, but I have to go.” She opened her door. “Maybe I’ll see you up there later? ”
She hopped behind the steering wheel and started the truck.
“Count on it.” Chris stepped onto the curb by the passenger door and watched her check her side mirror.
The leggy Asian woman from earlier suddenly came running to her friend in the truck. “I forgot to tell you I’ll have to print out a new contract. I’ll bring it with me in the morning.”
“Great,” Petite replied.
“All right. See you tomorrow, Rowan.” Legs waved as she walked away.
Rowan .
Chris’ rounded eyes flew to Petite’s face. She grinned and pulled out of the parking spot, leaving him standing at the curb like a deer caught in a headlights.