Chapter 5
Five
After a night in the coziest bed she’d ever slept in, Cretia woke to find her clothes folded in a stack on the desk in her guest room. Marie had asked if she could sneak in that morning and drop them off. She’d also left a fresh towel that smelled of sunshine and wildflowers.
The whole day before had turned into a bit of a blur in her memory. After the excitement of the morning and the following adrenaline crash, she’d napped for most of the afternoon. But she still hadn’t woken feeling rested.
Marie had invited her to join the Sloan family for dinner, but Cretia had skipped the meal in favor of inspecting her electronics.
Just as she’d expected. They were hopeless. All of them.
Surrounded by disappointment, she had crawled back into the comfy bed while the sun was still up.
With the warm sunrise, the day felt a little more manageable. Cretia skipped the shower but washed her face with the inn’s complimentary cleanser before donning her clothes, savoring the familiar jeans that hugged her waist but left plenty of room for her hips and thighs. Running her fingers through her dark waves, she tried to make sense of her hair but knew it was mostly a lost cause. All of her travel-size hair potions were somewhere in the harbor.
And her electronics might as well be.
She pinched the bridge of her nose as more memories from the day before rushed back to her. Finn and his beast. Losing everything. Her twisted ankle.
She stepped forward gingerly, which elicited a small twinge across the top of her foot. Nothing more.
At least she wasn’t seriously injured. And a quick inspection showed barely a bruise and no visible swelling. Nothing to keep her from getting back on the road.
Except her electronics.
Taking a deep breath, she eased open her door and stepped into the hallway. The inn was mostly silent, save for the friendly scratch of a tree branch against the window at the front of the house. Its bright green leaves were a beacon, an invitation to settle beneath its shade.
She didn’t have time for that.
Tiptoeing past a row of closed wooden doors on each side of the hall, she remembered that Marie had said the inn had no other guests at the moment. Which explained why she’d had her first uninterrupted night of sleep in years. No slamming hotel doors or the thunder of little feet running up and down the hall. No cars driving along busy streets outside her window.
Surely, being the only guest in the house contributed to her brain shutting off as soon as her head hit the pillow. Well, that and the mattress that welcomed her like a long-lost friend. And the lavender-scented sheets. And the utterly exhausting day.
The old Victorian house felt homier than any other place she’d stayed in her travels. Or before, for that matter. It was lived in and loved on, child-size jackets hanging from pegs on the mudroom wall above the bucket of rice, nonsensical pictures covering the front of the stainless-steel refrigerator in the kitchen.
The inn was far from empty. It was just ... peaceful.
Cretia shook her head to clear away her ridiculous thoughts before taking a careful step onto the wooden stairs. The handrail held steady as she cautiously made her way toward the foyer and front door, the third-to-last step squeaking under her weight.
“Cretia? You awake?” Marie’s voice sounded like it had come from somewhere near the kitchen, so she moved in that direction.
“Yes.” When she pushed open the swinging door with the jingle bell, she found two little girls eating breakfast at the island. One was maybe five or six. Cretia had seen her briefly the day before but hadn’t realized she was an exact copy and paste of her mom—all inquisitive blue eyes and brown curls. The other was a few years younger. From her high chair, the toddler grinned, unconcerned with the red jam smeared across her cheeks.
“Mama said we had to be quiet because you needed rest after your...” The older girl looked at the ceiling for a second before finishing. “Or-ordeal.” Her eyes narrowed, and then she nodded firmly. “You look okay to me.”
“Julia Mae.” Marie sighed as she slipped into the room through a side door. “You can’t decide that for someone else. You don’t know how she feels.”
Julia Mae frowned at her mom but finally nodded a reluctant agreement.
Marie gave her daughter a soft kiss on top of her curls before turning toward the door with a warm smile. “How are you feeling, Cretia? How’s your ankle?”
“Better. Much better. Thanks to your bag of peas.”
Marie’s smile grew. “I’m glad someone appreciated them. The kids refused to eat them.”
“Daddy too,” Julia Mae offered.
With a chuckle, Marie conceded. “Yes, Daddy too.”
Cretia cracked a smile at the sweet exchange, letting herself wish for just a moment that she had memories like that from her own childhood.
“Did you sleep well?” Marie bent over to wipe the cheeks of her youngest.
“It was lovely. Really. The best I’ve slept in years.”
Marie beamed up at her.
“I’ll pay you for the room as soon as I—”
Marie shook her head quickly. “We’ve covered that. You don’t owe us anything. I’m returning a favor to Finn, who definitely owes you.”
Cretia opened her mouth, but Julia Mae filled the silence instead. “Mama says we’re not supposed to argue with her. She says when she makes a decision we have to go with it. It’s for our own good. Even if we don’t understand.”
Cretia nearly snorted. Of course, Marie had to have had that conversation with her precocious daughter.
But Cretia wasn’t part of her family, and she wasn’t about to give in. She didn’t take charity from anyone. She had more than enough in her bank account to rent a room, so if Marie didn’t let her pay for it now, she’d do so later.
“So, do you know what you’re going to do today?” Marie asked.
“Um...” Cretia bit the corner of her lip and shot a glance at the mudroom, where the bucket of rice and ruined electronics still sat. “I suppose I’ll get to work on replacing my things.”
Marie frowned, her gaze shifting over her shoulder toward the room off the kitchen. “I want to help, but our computer guy is upgrading our system this week. I only have my phone to make bookings right now.”
Cretia waved off her concern. “No worries. I’ll figure something—”
“Finn can help you.”
Finn, who thought her job was a joke. Finn, who had all but pushed her into the water. Finn, who had dug through what was left of her personal things.
Finn, who had raced to the store to buy a bucket’s worth of rice the minute she’d asked.
“He has a...” Marie paused. “Well, he can help you order what you need.”
Marie’s pause made her teeth clench, but Cretia finally nodded. “Yeah, yesterday he said he’d help me figure it out.”
“He lives a few minutes out of town. My husband Seth picked up your rental car last night. You’re parked right out front, and the keys are next to the rice bucket.”
“Thank you. But he didn’t have to—”
“Nonsense. I traded him for dish duty. He got the better end of the deal. Trust me.”
Cretia didn’t know how to respond, which wasn’t a problem since Marie kept going.
“Finn lives just down the road. It’s about a five-minute drive or a twenty-minute walk—if you’re feeling up to it. Do you think you can make it on your own? I have to take the girls to an awards ceremony at Jack’s school this morning. But I’m sure Finn can help you figure out your rental car situation too.”
A bubble of something like uncertainty rose in her throat at the thought of navigating this town on her own. Of course, she knew it was the size of a postage stamp. And sure, she’d found her way through a hundred international cities. But always she’d had a map as close as the tap of her finger.
This time she was alone alone.
Except for the people here who insisted on helping her.
She swallowed at the worry, but it only seemed to grow.
Just fake it until you make it.
That had been her motto when she’d booked her first flight out of Phoenix. And it hadn’t changed, whether it was holding her head high and walking with a purpose through an unfamiliar airport or using the two semesters of French she barely remembered in Paris.
Fake it until you make it.
She’d keep moving forward into the unknown until it made sense, until she was confident in the next step. Until then, she’d hold her head high and pretend she knew what she was doing.
Plastering a smile on her face, she forced out a perky, “I’ll go see him in a little bit, then.”
“Can I get you something to eat? Our kitchen isn’t officially open, but you can help yourself, or I can get you...”
“Mom’s real good at toast.”
Marie shushed Julia Mae with a chuckle, but Cretia jumped in before she could continue. “I’m fine.”
Marie hoisted her youngest out of the wooden high chair and set her on the floor. “Okay. We’ll be back this afternoon. Feel free to come and go as you like through the back door.” Nodding toward a folded yellow flannel sitting on the edge of the counter, she added, “Will you take Finn his shirt while you’re over there?”
The shirt he’d literally given Cretia off his back when even her bones had been shivering.
“Sure. But you’ll have to point me in the right direction.”
“Go through the intersection and past the bakery on your left. You can’t miss it. Smells like cinnamon and sugar from heaven. Finn’s is the green farmhouse across from the Kane Dairy sign.”
Following Marie’s directions, Cretia had no problem finding the bakery—and making a mental note to come back to it. Indeed, it did smell like heaven, and her stomach growled as she imagined the treats coming from its ovens.
She’d decided a walk sounded nice after being inside most of the day before, and the flat road didn’t bother her ankle much as she ambled past the gray house set up on a little hill. She lifted her nose for another sniff, and the sun’s rays made her skin tingle.
As she strolled out of the bakery’s reach, her mind wandered to thirty minutes before and the useless pile of rice in the bottom of the bucket. She’d pretty much written off her electronics the night before, but she’d checked for a miracle just in case. Her phone screen had barely flickered when she tried to turn it on. And her laptop hadn’t done any better.
Her tablet at least had pretended to turn on, the screen blinking a few times—though mostly green lines. Then it froze. No poking, prodding, or cajoling could bring it back to life.
She’d seriously considered throwing it across the kitchen for the pure satisfaction of watching it explode against a wall. But she wouldn’t repay Marie’s kindness by risking any damage to her pristine kitchen—every white cabinet spotless and tiled counter wiped clean. Marie had joked about her own cooking skills—or lack thereof—but everything about her kitchen screamed that it was loved and cared for. There were no stacks of dirty dishes in the sink. No slices of moldy bread by the stove. No overflowing trash bags in the corner.
This was the kitchen she’d dreamed of as a child. Just like the ones she’d seen on the DIY TV shows.
Instead of throwing her tablet, Cretia had dropped it back in the bucket, gathered up Finn’s shirt from the counter, and marched past the wall of shelves across from the coats in the mudroom and out the door.
By the time Cretia cleared the memories from in front of her eyes, there were only pine trees and hayfields in front of her. The two-lane road continued, dipping and twisting, but there was no telling where it led. No sign of the promised dairy farm or Finn’s green house.
She’d probably been too lost in her thoughts and taken a wrong turn. Must have.
But when she whipped around, she realized she’d walked right by it all. The big white house next to a Kane Dairy sign that proudly announced “North Rustico’s Favorite Cheese” beside a stack of yellow wheels. A red arrow on the grass-green wood pointed toward a small structure added to the end of the white barn. The neon sign in the window read “Open.”
Maybe this was the home of Mama Cheese Sandwich—and the cheese that had melted not only in her sandwich but also in her mouth. Cretia could still taste the sharp cheddar and spicy pepper jack combination. She needed to stop by the dairy store too.
Across the street, right where Marie had told her it would be, sat a square two-story farmhouse. The green exterior didn’t match the grass or blend in with the tree in the front yard. It wasn’t teal like the bowl she’d eaten out of the day before. It was softer than that. Quieter than the island’s natural hues. It wasn’t harsh or hard on the eyes. The front boasted white trim and sweet shutters. It was ... serene.
She took a deep breath and realized she was smiling.
For absolutely no reason. Other than that it was a pretty house.
At least on the outside.
Her gut twisted hard, the muscles in her face falling as she strode down the gravel driveway. She had no business assuming anything about the interior of Finn’s home, but her mind still pictured the worst. Always.
Not that she’d seen the inside of any personal homes in a while. Hotels. Inns. B and Bs. Train stations. Airports. Those were the spaces she’d occupied. But homes were ... different.
Homes were private.
Homes were places where secrets were never thrown away.
Her shoulders tensed as memories of her childhood flooded through her.
Finn had said he had kids. Maybe he’d made a home for them that he was proud of. A home where they could invite friends over. A home filled with the scent of lavender potpourri or home-cooked meals.
Finn and his ... wife?
She hadn’t bothered to ask the day before. To be fair, she’d been recovering from a dunk in the harbor and had a few other things on her mind. But still. She should have asked. Marie hadn’t mentioned a partner that morning—only that Finn would help her.
Maybe he was a single father.
Plenty of single fathers ran around pulling strangers from the water and carrying them like they weighed nothing. With strong arms. And a warm smile that seemed to come from his core. Dripping in seawater, she’d needed that warmth. And he hadn’t disappointed.
Yeah, there were lots of single dads like that.
Probably.
Cretia let out a loud sigh, ready to bang her forehead against the dark wood of the front door. She was overthinking this. Per usual.
Finn’s life was none of her business. What was on the other side of the door didn’t matter either. She needed to get off this island and back to her regularly scheduled life.
It was just a house. A boxy farmhouse.
She didn’t have to live there. Whatever it looked like on the inside, it wasn’t her problem.
She didn’t even have to go inside.
There. Easy enough. She’d just stay on this side of the threshold. She’d hand Finn his shirt through the open door. And then she’d walk away.
A little voice inside her whispered a not-so-gentle reminder that this plan conveniently failed to account for replacing her electronics and calling the rental car company—and the help Finn might offer.
Maybe he had a laptop that he’d bring out to the front stoop so they could enjoy the sunshine.
Sure. That was a totally normal idea. But she wasn’t going to know how this would play out until she talked with him. And that required getting him to the door.
Forcing her hand into a fist, she knocked twice and waited. The house was still. No children’s voices, no barked greeting from Joe Jr.
She knocked again, louder and longer this time.
Still nothing. Maybe the kids were at school. Maybe Finn was at the same awards ceremony that Marie had hurried off to.
“Come on, boys! Go get it!” The voice was unmistakably Finn’s, though Cretia couldn’t figure out exactly where it was coming from. Or who he was talking to. Until a chorus of high-pitched barks followed.
Cretia followed the sound of playing dogs across the yard and toward the big red barn. The sliding door on the front side was closed, so she tiptoed around the end of the building, running a hand along the bright wooden planks, the paint smooth and unmarred by time and sun.
The barks grew louder and more frenzied until Finn broke through them. “Sit.” He cleared his throat. “George.” He sounded both mildly annoyed and amused, and Cretia hurried toward him, curious if his expression matched his tone.
“Good boy, Ringo.” His praise was immediately followed by the telltale sounds of a dog devouring his crunchy treat.
When Cretia finally rounded the corner, the scene before her was not what she’d anticipated. Finn stood in the center of a small fenced-in corral, a fluffy black puppy under one arm and three identical copies around his feet, jumping at his knees. Behind him, a full-sized Newfoundland was rooting for something in his pocket.
“Joe, stop it,” Finn said over his shoulder.
She barely recognized Joe Jr., all dry and fluffy, his tongue lolling out of the corner of his mouth. The dog’s big nose didn’t stop his mission.
“I’m going to put you inside,” Finn threatened.
Joe remained undeterred. But suddenly his nose tipped into the air, and he looked around Finn’s leg. With a guttural woof, he bounded toward her, nearly tripping over his own feet. He wasn’t nearly as scary on land when she didn’t think he was about to jump on top of her. But he was still a beast—immense and intimidating.
Except there was something like a goofy grin on his face and maybe a bit of joy in his bark.
He plowed into the chicken-wire fence, shaking his head over the top and sending drool flying toward her. She raised her elbow as a shield just in time for his slobber to coat her arm instead of her face.
“Cretia!” Finn’s eyes flew open wide, and he fought his way free of the three puppies trying to trip him. “I’m sorry. Joe isn’t used to having—That is, what are you doing here? How’s your ankle?”
With one hand she held out his flannel while trying to surreptitiously shake her other arm dry without wiping Joe’s slobber on her clean sweater. “It’s fine—much better today. Marie asked me to bring this ... Actually, I wanted to say thank you. To you and Joe.” The latter happily accepted her rub of his head. “You didn’t have to pull me out of the water or take me to Marie’s, and I wasn’t very ... appreciative yesterday.”
“More than understandable. That was quite an ordeal. And I was a little bit ... well...”
“Judgmental. I think the word you’re looking for is judgmental. And nosy.”
A grin broke through his beard, crinkling the corners of his eyes as he finally took his shirt. “Yes. Those things. I’m sorry about that.” He adjusted the puppy under his arm with a shrug of his shoulder. “Maybe we can start over?”
“All right.” She moved to shake his hand but realized they were both full. “I’m Lucretia—Cretia—Martin.” She laid heavily on the last syllable again, emphasizing the long e .
His eyebrows rose and his forehead wrinkled. “Mar-teen?”
She nodded firmly. “It’s Spanish.”
“And I’m Finn Chaffey.”
“Finnegan,” she clarified.
He frowned. “To my parents and a select few women who enjoy bossing me around.”
“So, just Finn?”
The puppy under his arm wiggled, apparently bored with their conversation, so Finn put him down and he joined his identical siblings.
“Marie doesn’t have internet at her place right now. But she said maybe I could borrow yours to order some new equipment.”
“The rice didn’t work?” He didn’t sound particularly surprised, but there was a note of sadness in his voice.
“No. They’re all shot. My phone won’t even pretend to turn on. I think the salt water demolished it. I need to borrow a computer with internet. It won’t take me very long.”
His gaze darted toward the house. “I’m ... Can you wait an hour? I just started with the puppies, and I’d like to keep them on schedule.” Something like hope flashed in his eyes. “You can join us.”
Cretia looked around for evidence of what they’d been up to but spotted only a few tennis balls scattered across the green grass. “For what exactly?”
“Puppy training.” Finn waved at the four pups. “Or, more precisely, puppy socialization. It’s good for them to be around other people, to get used to various voices and smells.”
“And I’m other people?”
He motioned for her to climb over the fence, which reached to just above her waist. Clearly he thought she was some sort of track and field star. She was the queen of walking tours and the occasional sprint to catch a train. But leaping fences was not on her résumé.
She shook her head firmly as he sized up her proportional height.
“Um ... do you mind if I ... again?” He was already leaning down to scoop her up and over, and before she could respond, her feet landed inside the corral.
“Do you do that a lot? Pick people up, I mean. It seems like you’ve had quite a bit of practice.”
He chuckled from somewhere low in his chest, the sound reverberating and making the dogs bark. “Not people so much.” He nodded toward Joe Jr. “Not until I met you anyway.”
She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to take that, but Finn didn’t stick around to clarify. Turning toward the puppies, he caught their attention and brought them into a line in the shadow of the barn. Holding out a treat between his fingers, he commanded them to sit, with mixed results. The two in the middle did as they were told. The one on the far left spun in a circle, chasing his tail, while the other caught sight of a dragonfly and leapt after it.
But the minute Finn rewarded the middle two with treats from his pocket, the other two rushed him for equal treatment.
“Uh-uh,” he said firmly, holding his open hand toward their noses. After a few more attempts, they finally obeyed and received their biscuits. “Good boys,” he cooed, giving them extra ear scratches.
At her side Joe gave a little ruff , pressing his damp nose into her hand. Cretia stroked his soft fur from between his eyes to the back of his head, but she couldn’t take her gaze off Finn. He moved with a steady assurance that both commanded the dogs’ respect and spoke of a deep love for the little guys. Every action practiced yet relaxed, putting them all at ease.
“You want to come play with them?” he asked from his squatted position, pushing the sleeves of his gray Henley up to his elbows.
It took her a moment to realize he was talking to her, but she agreed before she could think about the consequences of getting on the ground with the black furballs in the only clothes she owned.
The pleading faces with big black eyes could not be denied, and she sat down in a particularly soft patch of grass. Joe circled at her side and plopped down along her thigh. Then four little bodies jumped against her, nearly sending her backward. Their warmth and silky coats invited hugs and snuggles.
“Meet John, Paul, George, and Ringo.”
“The Beatles?”
Finn shrugged as he stood and strolled toward them. “They’re definitely a Fab Four.”