Chapter 4
Natalie struggled for words as she gave Trent a tour of the house. From the kitchen into the front room, then upstairs to the bedrooms and back down to where they started. She reviewed the basic safety features and emergency numbers. “Any questions?”
“No, thanks. I’ve got it.”
He couldn’t possibly be as untroubled as he appeared.
Then again, she was seriously compartmentalizing things herself right now.
She felt fractured, like a mosaic in the early planning stages where the pieces didn’t quite fit together.
Part of her wanted to leave town and pretend nothing untoward was happening on the beach.
Another piece of her wanted to kick that body back into the ocean for wrecking what had been a lovely morning.
But her heart ached for whatever that body had been through and she worried what it would mean for the community if he was local.
And that rundown didn’t include the part of her that desperately wanted to kiss Trent.
Which might be the most out-of-line thought in her head. Good thing no one else would ever know about that particular thought.
“Okay.” She forced a smile. “Well, you’ve gone above and beyond with this whole mess. Thank you. I’ll just clean up the kitchen, grab some cookies for the folks out there, and the place is all yours.”
She was actually taking baked goods to the people dealing with the gruesome discovery. She deserved some hospitality bonus points for this.
“What kind of cookies?” Trent asked as she moved around the kitchen.
His curiosity amused her. “Will—Lieutenant Frasier—likes oatmeal raisin. The paramedics who will probably be here soon to move the body are chocolate chip fans.”
“They visit often enough that you know this?”
“No!” She felt the color drain from her face. “That’s not—I mean—no.” She struggled to catch her breath as tears clogged the back of her throat.
“Natalie?” He caught her gently as she swayed. “Breathe. Easy and slow.” He guided her onto one of the stools at the counter, standing close enough that his thigh pressed to her knee. His presence, combined with the gentle firm pressure, grounded her.
On the inhale, she drew in the crisp scent of his skin warmed by the sunshine. He was better than any cookie. “Thank you.”
“You’re good?”
“Better now.” She nodded. “Thanks. My apologies.”
“None needed.” Worry lingered in his eyes. “Walk me through this cookie plan of yours.”
“That’s hardly your job,” she protested.
“Is the customer always right in your business?” he challenged.
“Maybe,” she allowed. “Celeste would certainly say so.”
A grin teased the corner of his mouth. “Then humor me. The Hideaway experience I’m craving is cookie delivery.”
She sputtered a helpless laugh. “Fine.” She talked him through it until he had three boxes of cookies ready for the folks working on the beach. “What’s your favorite cookie?”
He didn’t blurt out an answer, he gave it some thought. Probably because he’d just been flooded with all the cookie yumminess that Celeste kept stocked for their guests.
“Today, it’s oatmeal raisin,” he said, bracing his elbows on the countertop. “I don’t have those often. And they’re not always as good as I hope.”
“Help yourself. Please,” she urged. “Celeste’s recipe is one that converts folks regularly.”
“What about you?” he asked as he opened the cabinet and pulled out two plates. He added an oatmeal raisin to one plate and then waited for her decision.
“For dessert, my go-to is a peanut butter chocolate chunk. But I consider oatmeal raisin a valid breakfast option. Add a slice or two of bacon, and it’s a good day.”
He grinned at her. “Not a bad rationale,” he said, serving her a cookie on the plate.
She wolfed down her cookie, not even sorry about rushing.
He was a guest and this exchange was filling her with a flood of inappropriate ideas and way too much wishful thinking.
After loading her plate into the dishwasher, she gathered up the cookie boxes.
“Thanks again for the help. And for sticking it out with the reservation.”
“No problem.” He watched her closely, as if worried she might collapse. “Be careful.”
“You do the same. I’m a phone call away if you need anything.”
His smile fueled more kissing fantasies and she turned away—a last ditch self-preservation effort. “Enjoy your stay. Y’know. After all the stuff out there is done.”
“I’ll be fine, Natalie.”
“Okay.”
She had to believe him, though it felt awkward to leave, despite his assurances.
Passing out cookies to the folks working on the beach was easier. Marginally.
Over the next two days, she kept her phone on and close, just in case Trent needed anything. Maybe more cookies. Possibly a date.
Though she nurtured the date fantasies, they didn’t keep the nightmares away. Her imagination kept exaggerating the way the body had bumped against her, pushed by the persistent tide.
She avoided her sisters and struggled to find any sense of calm beyond her workspace behind the art gallery on Central Avenue.
There she found the quiet solitude she needed to process the tumultuous emotions careening from delight at seeing Trent again to sorrow for a person she’d never met.
Add in the shock of it all and a swirl of grief that death had stained the private haven of her childhood, and it was no wonder the materials she’d gathered from the storeroom were dark and sharp.
The sculpture taking shape was like nothing she’d done before.
The warmth of the sunny afternoon barely cut through the chill clinging to her skin as she worked, lost to the undertaking once again, testing one piece after another until it fit into the design she hadn’t dared sketch out.
“Nat?”
“Hm?” She wasn’t ready to be distracted.
“Natalie Hargrave!”
The snap in Veronica’s voice might as well have been a bucket of ice water dumped on her head. “What?” She whipped around only to wrench her neck and trip over her stiff legs as she tried to stand.
Veronica’s severely disappointed expression cut through the creative fog. “Sorry. What time is it?” And what had she missed?
But her sister moved closer, her gaze softening in sympathy. “Oh, Nat. I’m sorry. I was just worried.”
“You sounded pissed.”
Roni turned Nat around to rub at her shoulders, immediately soothing the tense muscles. Having a physical therapist in the family was wonderful. “That was when I thought you were ignoring us deliberately.”
She’d been doing better at staying connected and answering calls. Especially when she was the primary contact for Hideaway guests. “Did something happen? I kept my phone on.” She patted the worn pockets of her overalls, discovering the phone wasn’t actually with her.
“The storeroom,” she muttered. But she glanced at the sculpture just to be sure she hadn’t used her device somehow.
“I found it.” Veronica handed it over. “And I let it piss me off,” she admitted. “Sorry.”
“Please don’t apologize. It’s not like I haven’t earned your wrath.” Natalie attempted a smile. “This time it wasn’t deliberate.”
Roni was staring at the work-in-progress. “I can see that.”
“Did I miss something?” She checked, but didn’t find any messages from Trent. What she found were several missed calls and texts from Roni and a voicemail from Celeste.
“Celeste filled me in,” Roni said. “About the, um, situation on the beach the other day.” She pulled Nat into a hug, despite the risk to her own clothing. It was always hard to tell what might transfer from Natalie’s work overalls. Could be paint or dust or some other type of grease and grime.
“I’m okay.” Still, she let herself cling for a moment, soaking up the love.
The bond she shared with Celeste and Veronica was priceless.
The three of them were so different and yet they remained close.
She couldn’t imagine her life without her sisters, though her first husband had nearly succeeded in isolating her from the family.
Stepping out of her sister’s embrace, she said, “We got lucky the, um, situation happened with a Guardian Agency booking.”
“I’ll say.” Roni walked a full circle around the work space. “This isn’t…”
“Me?” Dark, heavy, and brooding were not her typical descriptions of her artwork.
She shook her head before meeting Natalie’s gaze. “It’s you. One hundred percent. Just not the you I’m used to.”
Self-conscious, Natalie shrugged. “I had to get it out.”
“Definitely better out than in,” Roni agreed. “It must’ve been awful.”
“Yes.” No sense sharing the horror by describing the way the tide had pushed the body against her.
“Celeste wants us all home for dinner,” Roni said. “I’ll cover for you if you need to finish this.”
Celeste was definitely the maternal one among the sisters with an off-the-charts commitment to responsible behavior.
She’d taken the lead in caring for their mom during her final days.
And after, she’d convinced them to turn their family beach home into a business opportunity.
One that quickly became profitable enough to support all three of them.
Veronica and Natalie continued their professional pursuits, and Celeste continued to find ways to diversify the asset of the Hideaway and its growing reputation.
“Is she cooking?” Nat asked, trying to get a sense of how dinner might go.
“No. Take out from Parker’s.”
“Oh.” That changed things. Parker’s fish camp was Celeste’s go-to for both big celebrations or when delivering difficult news. “Can I change my answer about finishing this?”
“No,” Roni laughed. “I don’t think it’s terrible news. It could even be good news that she’s not ready to discuss publicly.”
“Right.” Anything was possible. She rolled her shoulders.
“Whatever the topic, I’m down for our favorite food at home tonight.
” Going out wasn’t a good idea anyway. Folks would naturally ask about the situation on the beach.
She pressed a hand to her stomach, unwilling to run that gauntlet anytime soon.