Chapter Nine
Caroline settled onto a stool at the counter, the torn cushion cutting into her leg.
“Are you wearing shorts tonight?” Sandy asked, sliding an empty mug in front of her. “Coffee’s brewing.”
“I am.” Caroline picked up the laminated menu and sighed, not even reading the specials. She knew them all. By heart. Every. Single. One.
“I don’t think I’ve seen you in shorts since you were a little girl.”
“You haven’t.” Caroline slapped the menu on the table. “I’ll do the Swedish meatballs, extra gravy, mashed potatoes, salad with ranch, and a piece of pie for dessert.”
“You never order the meatballs. You usually order the…”
“I want the meatballs tonight.” Caroline glared at her. “Extra gravy, please.”
Sandy scribbled on her pad and tore off a piece of paper, clipping it to a string for the kitchen. “What kind of pie?”
Caroline waved her hand. “I don’t care. I thought I told you to get these stools repaired. Torn vinyl looks tacky, not to mention uncomfortable when you are wearing shorts.”
Sandy leaned on the counter and tapped her fingers as she looked at Caroline. “What’s going on?” she finally asked. “Other than the new wardrobe?” She nodded at Caroline’s bright orange tank top.
“Nothing.”
“That shade of nothing looks suspiciously like Carter Beckett’s swim trunks.”
Caroline picked up the cup and examined it as if she could make the coffee appear. “Fine. Banana cream.”
“Not the pie, sweetheart.”
Caroline squirmed a little on the stool, her mouth setting in a reluctant line. “I refuse to be the headline of Boomer’s next song.”
“Hmmm.” Sandy grabbed the coffeepot and filled Caroline’s cup. “Speaking of which, I haven’t seen Beckett here in the last few days. Gigi said he wasn’t home when she stopped by to deliver a casserole.”
“He got called out of town,” Caroline replied, keeping her voice light even though she felt anything but.
“Is that so?” Sandy put the pot back on the burner. “When is he coming back?”
Beckett was expected to return in the afternoon, but Caroline couldn’t recall whether he had promised for certain or merely suggested he might return. She craved certainty. Spontaneity was not really her thing.
It had been three days since she’d last seen him.
He had spoken of an out-of-town commitment, but she hadn’t thought it meant he’d be out of town, out of touch, and completely unreachable.
She missed him more than she thought possible, yet she wondered if she was overreacting, feeling torn between longing and frustration.
“Why would I know? I’m not in charge of his schedule.”
“Uh-huh. How long has he been gone?”
“Three days,” Caroline said. “I’m not counting or anything.” She shifted in her seat, pretending she wasn’t bothered by his absence, as Sandy shook her head in a way that said she was done buying Caroline’s denials.
“Who’s got the mayor and Beck having a falling-out?” Gigi’s voice boomed from the booth in the corner as she waved a bottle of ink in the air. Several hands went up as Caroline groaned and put her face in her hands.
“What about romance?” Mabel joined in, her words carrying across the room. Gigi pinned Caroline with a gleeful look as Mabel continued. “Oh look. We can black out the entire third row if you say you kissed him goodbye.”
“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” Caroline said, deflecting the question with a playful but slightly tart smile. “What if I told you we barely said, ‘see you later’?”
“What if we said we wouldn’t believe you?” Gigi countered, unfazed as she scanned the bingo sheet with glee.
The door jangled again, bringing in a gust of wind with Boomer and his guitar slung over his shoulder like a troubadour on tour. He tipped his hat at Caroline with a dramatic flair, attention immediately drawn to Gigi, Mabel, and their cards laid out.
“Trouble in paradise?” he sang, inserting himself into the conversation with a conspiratorial wink. “Don’t worry, fair Mayor,” he crooned. “It’ll be alright … even if we have to guess your plight!”
“Do I have any privacy left in this town?”
“Are you playing, Boomer?” Gigi asked, holding out a paper.
“You printed more cards?” Caroline was mortified.
“Darling, you’re the big news for Memorial Day.” Gigi picked up another paper and pointed it towards Caroline. “Why don’t you try your hand as well?”
“Order up,” the kitchen called.
Caroline grabbed her tote. “Make it to-go, Sandy. I’ve got to check on some construction, and I’ll just eat at home.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. Put in a bottle of water and a sweet tea as well. I’ll go pay.”
After Caroline paid her check, she made her way down several blocks to where the fishing pier jutted out into the ocean.
It smelled like rain, but the sky was still clear, with just a few gray clouds in the distance.
She closed her eyes as she walked, enjoying the warm breeze as it caressed her skin.
A few months ago, the only things remaining on the pier were seagulls and the smell of fish. The surrounding buildings were slowly dying.
Now, all the shops had a fresh coat of paint.
Even if the shop didn’t have a business, it was ready to be rented out.
Colors more reminiscent of Key West than bluebells decorated the storefronts, while freshly planted flowers in bright pots lined the walkway.
String lights linked the buildings, swaying softly in the wind.
They reminded her of the cool nights on Beck’s porch.
Several stores had large Coming Soon signs or dates announcing when they would open.
At the end of the row of shops, detached from the others, but between the street and the start of the pier, stood the former bait and tackle shop.
The new one had been moved further down, allowing Caroline to convince the town to purchase the old one for a visitor’s center.
Faint traces of the large, stenciled letters declaring the former bait and tackle shop closed for business could still be seen on the shop window, and a bright red REOPENING SOON! took its place.
Taking the keys from her pocket, she jingled them in the lock until the door opened.
She made a note to put in her binder about the sticky lock and to let the construction crew know about it when they returned.
Pushing open the door, she entered the shop, greeted by the smell of small fish and stale water.
Flipping on the lights, she waited while they sputtered before finally coming to life before dropping her tote and bag containing her dinner on the counter.
Her flip-flops slapped the floor as she walked over to the large window facing the ocean and pier and turned to survey the inside of the store.
The building was in a perfect location for lots of foot traffic.
She could picture the boutique racks and displays lining the sides, poster-sized displays of the town’s history hanging on the walls like gallery exhibits, tempting visitors with tasteful nods to Bluebell Bay’s past and present.
She could see it filled with souvenirs from local artists, vibrant stickers, colorful hats, and T-shirts screaming “I ? Bluebell Bay” hanging on plastic hangers.
Thunder rolled in the distance.
Caroline froze.
She was so busy thinking about when Beck would arrive back in town she hadn’t been paying attention to the weather. Looking out the window, she saw the sky had gone from a clear sky with gray clouds to almost night, as a crack of lightning lit up the sky and she counted.
One.
Two.
Three.
Boom.
The thunder made her jump. Running to the counter, she grabbed her tote bag and dinner and raced to the door. The bait shop was about five short blocks from the diner. City Hall was three blocks away, but there were people at the diner, and she didn’t want to be alone in the storm.
She gripped the door handle and gave it a firm tug, but it remained stubbornly shut. The wood had expanded from the humidity, causing it to wedge tightly into the frame, and she could feel the resistant scrape of the swollen door against the threshold as she struggled to pull it open.
What was she going to do?
Per her unscientific calculations, the storm was about three miles away, which meant she had about …
Another large crack streaked across the sky simultaneously with the thunder. She shrieked and jumped backward. The skies opened, and suddenly rain came battering down on the roof of the small building.
“Great,” she muttered. It sounded as if the building was under siege.
A high-pitched buzzing filled the room, and the lights flickered with an ominous stutter, plunging Caroline into a mix of dimness and panic.
Feeling like the walls were closing in, her pulse thumped loudly in her ears as shadows danced around her.
Trembling, she frantically rummaged through her tote, its contents a chaotic jumble as she desperately searched for her phone.
Finally, she found it, but her hands were shaking so much she struggled to swipe up the screen.
Her eyes darted over her contacts until they landed on Beck’s number.
She wondered if he was back in town, or somewhere close.
Tapping the phone icon, she listened to the digital ring until she heard a click.
“Beck! I’m…,” she started, only to be interrupted by the automated message.
“Hey, you’ve reached Carter Beckett. I don’t check this voicemail. Send a text.”
“Arrrgh!” she growled in frustration, quickly disconnecting and pressing Gigi’s button with a sense of urgency.
Her voice trembled as she whispered, “Come on, come on,” a plea mingled with the tension in the air as the lights flickered and went out, plunging her into complete darkness.
The oppressive silence was pierced only by the thunder and relentless rattle of rain pounding against the windows, a chilling soundtrack to her mounting anxiety.
“Caroline!” Gigi’s voice crashed through the void, clear and reassuring on the first ring.
“I’m at the bait shop…” Caroline blurted out, her voice strained.