Sunrise Reef (Hope Harbor #11)

Chapter 1

1

Was something burning?

Bren Ryan stopped reading the instructions on the tube of hair dye in her hand, destined for use later today, and frowned at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Sniffed.

A faint acrid odor with a hint of fishiness prickled her nose.

Not quite a burn smell but close. And definitely worth investigating.

Leaving the dye on the vanity, she followed the scent, wincing as another slash of lightning strobed through the sky outside the window, followed by a boom of bone-jarring thunder.

Man, this was bizarre weather. Squalls on the Oregon coast were supposed to be confined to the winter months. They never ushered in August—especially storms that went on for hours. Besides, even in the winter, torrential rain and high winds were far more common than lightning and thunder.

Whatever the cause of this uncharacteristic outburst from Mother Nature, it was certainly a dramatic beginning to her thirtieth birthday.

And perhaps it was also an omen that her decision to create a birthday resolution to-do list and shake things up a bit during this new decade of her life was sound.

The smell intensified as she approached the kitchen, and she paused on the threshold. Gave the room a slow scan.

Everything appeared to be normal.

Could the unpleasant odor be coming from outside?

Bren crossed to the window above the sink, pushed it higher than the scant inch she’d left it cracked, and leaned over. Inhaled.

The air outside was damp but fresh.

This was weird.

She straightened up and swiveled back toward the room.

Where could the smell be—

Wait.

Was that smoke coiling out of the electrical socket at the end of the counter?

Heart stuttering, she dashed across the room and got up close and personal with the plate over the outlet.

The thin, vaporous wisps sinuously twisting from the prong slots were, indeed, smoke.

Which meant there was a fire inside the wall—or at the very least, smoldering wires or insulation that could soon morph into a fire unless she acted fast.

Bren grabbed her phone off the charger on the counter and tapped in 911.

After a crisp greeting, the efficient dispatcher elicited all the pertinent details and moved on to instructions. “Your fire department has been alerted. You should vacate the house and take shelter from the storm someplace safe until the crew arrives.”

Bren glanced out the window toward the driveway, where rain continued to pummel her older-model Kia as dawn gave way to day. “I could wait in my car.”

“A structure would be preferable. Is there a neighbor who could provide shelter?”

The older couple in the next house down the road would take her in if she showed up on their doorstep, but they never got up until after eight. Why ruin their morning too?

“No.”

“In that case, go ahead and move to your vehicle. I’ll stay on the line until you’re secure.”

“Thanks.”

Bren slid her phone into her purse, unlocked her car with the remote, pulled on the bright yellow slicker that always hung by the back door, and scurried through the rain.

Once she was behind the wheel, she put the phone back to her ear. “I’m in the car.”

“Stay there until the fire crew arrives.”

“Got it.”

As the dispatcher severed the connection, Bren checked the time.

Six twelve.

No way was she going to make it to work in eighteen minutes. She’d be lucky to get to The Perfect Blend when the shop opened at seven, let alone early enough to help with prep and setup. Who knew how long it would take for Hope Harbor’s volunteer fire department to arrive?

Dang.

From the day Zach Garrett had given her one of the two barista jobs in his new coffee shop three years ago, she’d never once missed a shift or shown up late. Reliability, punctuality, and diligence had been hallmarks of her employment.

Two of those were about to take a hit.

Sighing, she put in a call to Zach and peered at her tiny rental house through the rivulets of water sluicing down her windshield.

As milestone birthdays went, this one wasn’t off to an auspicious start.

Hopefully it wasn’t a preview of the year to come.

“Morning, Bren. What’s up?”

At Zach’s chipper greeting, Bren massaged her temple and gave him the bad news. “But I’ll get there as fast as I can.”

“Hey, no worries. I’ll manage.” His tone transitioned from upbeat to concerned. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Her throat pinched.

Zach might be her boss, but he was also her friend. As were so many of the people in her adopted town, all of whom were more like family than the blood relations she’d left behind in Kentucky long ago.

“Thank you for asking, but at this point it’s all in the hands of the fire department. I’m hoping the damage is minor and a quick fix will take care of it.”

“Keep me in the loop.”

“Will do. I’ll get there as fast as I can.”

“Like I said, I’ve got it covered. Nobody will get too bent out of shape if they have to wait an extra minute or two for their drink.”

That was true—and another reason she’d fallen in love with this town.

“Thanks again, Zach.”

“No thanks necessary. I’ll see you when I see you.”

Bren ended the call, set the cell on the seat beside her, and tapped a finger on the steering wheel as she waited for help to arrive, keeping an eye on her watch.

Five minutes later, a fire engine appeared down the road, the siren increasing in volume until the truck stopped in front of the house.

Not bad for a volunteer operation.

Flipping up the hood on her slicker, she opened her door and prepared to brief whoever was in charge.

The man who approached as she alighted got straight to business. After peppering her with clipped questions, he trotted off to confer with the members of the crew, who descended on her house with various pieces of equipment.

Including an ax.

Her stomach kinked as she slid back behind the wheel.

That wasn’t promising.

Nor was the muffled pounding that seeped through the frame walls minutes later, audible from inside her car.

When the man in charge reappeared and strode toward her, the grim set of his mouth telegraphed imminent bad news.

Bracing, Bren exited the car again, sans hood. At least the driving rain had stopped and the storm seemed to be dissipating. “What’s the verdict?”

“You have an electrical fire inside the walls. Good thing you have a sensitive nose. Most people don’t detect those until there’s significant damage.”

“Are you saying the problem is minor?” Please let that be the case!

“There’s no visible damage, but it’s hard to say what’s on the other side of the drywall. It could take us a while to verify the fire hasn’t spread. The wiring in the house should have been replaced years ago.”

At the hint of censure in his inflection, she straightened her shoulders. “For the record, I’m a tenant, not the owner. I don’t know anything about the mechanics of the house.” Except that lights did tend to flicker randomly, and several of the outlets were finicky. But every house had its quirks, right?

“Understood.” His manner softened. “If you’ll give me the owner’s contact information, I’ll apprise them of the situation. At minimum, drywall repair and wiring updates will be needed.”

In other words, she’d be living in a construction zone for the foreseeable future.

Oh, joy.

She passed on her landlord’s phone number and surveyed the house. “Do you want me to hang around? I’m already late for work.”

“No. We could be here another hour or two.”

“Then I’ll head out. If you’d lock the door from the inside and pull it shut as you leave, I’d appreciate it.”

“No problem.”

While he got back to business, Bren started the car, pointed it toward The Perfect Blend ... and tried to look on the bright side.

It wasn’t as if the house had actually caught fire. All of her personal possessions were safe. And if she had to live with drywall dust for a while, that was manageable. The house would still be a big step up from most of the places she’d called home over the past twelve years.

Eight minutes later, she hustled through the door of The Perfect Blend to find a long line stretching from the counter.

Zach’s expression shifted from surprise to relief the instant he spotted her. “I didn’t expect to see you this fast.”

“There was nothing for me to do at the house.” She stashed her shoulder bag under the counter and put on her apron as she gave him a quick briefing.

“What a mess—and on your birthday, no less.” He grimaced as he wiped the nozzle on the espresso machine.

“I’ve had worse birthdays.”

“Yeah?” He eyed her as he plated a piece of cranberry nut cake for the espresso customer.

Whoops.

Only Bev at the bookstore knew any details about her younger years. And Charley Lopez, the town sage and taco-making artist who always had uncanny insights, had discerned a number of facts. Other than that, she’d zipped it. Why dwell on a past she’d left behind, or let it pollute the fresh start she’d made here three years ago?

Bren pushed up the corners of her mouth. “Ancient history. On the plus side, I caught the fire early.” She turned toward the next customer in line, ending the exchange with her boss. “Morning, Fred. The usual?”

“Not today.” A fan of lines appeared at the corners of Fred Ward’s eyes as he winked at her and tucked the latest edition of the Hope Harbor Herald under his arm. “Charley finally convinced me to try the Mexican coffee he’s always raving about. I decided to broaden my horizons. Don’t want to get stuck in a rut, you know.”

“I hear you. One café de olla coming up.”

The silver-haired man cocked his head. “What’s this about a fire at your place? Couldn’t help overhearing while I waited in line.”

No point in being reticent about the incident. Few happenings of note slid under the radar in this tiny community, and a fire—or almost-fire—would be big news. Everyone would hear about it within hours.

“I’m hoping I caught it before too much damage was done.” She gave him an abbreviated recap of her morning as she prepared his drink, popped in a cinnamon stick, and snapped on the lid. “Here you go. Enjoy.”

“I expect I will. Charley’s never steered me wrong.”

He wandered over to one of the tables clustered around the freestanding fireplace in the center of the shop and settled in for his every-other-Wednesday perusal of the Herald —an activity he’d indulged in like clockwork since the opening week of the shop, often with his wife by his side ... until she’d died last year.

Pressure built in Bren’s throat as Fred took a tentative sip of his brew.

No surprise he’d become a regular fixture here several days a week now that Helen was gone. The Perfect Blend was a haven of warmth and welcome for all who ventured inside, staff and customers alike.

For the next hour, she was too busy filling orders to worry about what was happening at the house. But when her cell began to vibrate with a call from her landlord as the morning rush subsided, her pulse picked up.

Angling toward Zach, she lifted her phone. “I need to take this.”

“Go ahead. I’ll handle the counter.” He shifted his attention to the customer who’d pushed through the front door.

Moving off to the side, she greeted her landlord, who gave her the bad news fast.

“I’m at the house, Bren. The fire department is finishing up. I’m sorry, but I don’t think the place will be habitable for at least the next month. I’m going to have to tear out all the wiring, so the electricity will be shut off. There are also sizable holes in the walls that will have to be repaired. There could be other damage too.”

Dang again.

It appeared this birthday was going to be a total bust.

But bemoaning her misfortune wasn’t going to solve her housing dilemma. She’d just have to book a room at the Gull Motel until she came up with a plan.

“Okay. I’ll find somewhere else to stay for the duration. Can I get inside later today to pack up my clothes and personal items?”

“Yes. I cleared that with the fire crew. I’ll keep you apprised of the progress on the repairs and get you back in as soon as it’s practical and safe.”

“Thanks. Do they have any idea how the fire started?”

“Their theory is that energy from a lightning strike nearby entered the house through wires or pipes that extend outside the structure. Or it could have come in through the meter and moved to the electrical panel. They said a whole-house surge protection device would have prevented that, but storms like the one we had today are rare. I never thought it was necessary to install one.” He expelled a breath. “This wasn’t my lucky day, I guess.”

Hers, either.

But she left that unsaid.

As they ended the call, Zach finished with his customer and joined her. “That didn’t sound reassuring.”

“It wasn’t.” She filled him in. Swiped a cloth over a coffee stain on the counter. “I never expected to end up homeless on my birthday.”

Although it wouldn’t be the first time.

Another piece of information she didn’t intend to share with anyone—her boss included.

“What a bummer. Maybe you could—”

“Excuse me. May I interrupt?”

She swiveled toward Fred, who stood on the other side of the counter, his folded newspaper under his arm.

“I wasn’t eavesdropping, but I picked up the gist of your plight. If you need a temporary place to stay, you’re welcome to use my guest cottage.”

She arched her eyebrows. “I thought you rented that out to vacationers.”

“Used to. Haven’t had much interest in doing that without Helen. She was always the more sociable half of our partnership. She could chat up guests like nobody’s business.” His smile held a hint of melancholy. “Anyway, the cottage is sitting there empty. I expect it’s dusty, but the plumbing and electricity are in tip-top shape.”

Bren wiped her palms down her apron, vision misting at the man’s kindness.

Nice as his offer was, though, she couldn’t afford the rates tourists paid for private cottages in this picturesque town during high season. The Gull Motel would have to do until she lined up a place in the same price range as her present lodging.

“I appreciate that, Fred, but my budget won’t accommodate an extended stay at the kind of prices your usual guests paid.”

“You’re not a usual guest. You’re a Hope Harbor resident. That makes you a neighbor. Since the place isn’t generating income anymore, you’re welcome to use it free of charge.”

She did a double take.

Seriously? He was willing to let her stay in his cottage gratis?

Amazing.

Yet tempted as she was to accept his generous offer, she shook her head. “I couldn’t do that. It wouldn’t be fair.”

Fred studied her. Pursed his lips. “Do you mind telling me your current rent?”

“No.” She gave him the monthly amount.

“For how many rooms?”

“Four.”

“The cottage only has two. A living room/kitchen combo and a bedroom. You can pay me half what you’re paying your current landlord. We can break it down into weekly payments to give you flexibility on the length of your stay.”

Her jaw dropped.

Was this for real?

“Take the deal, Bren.” Zach grinned and gave her a shoulder bump before he moved away to assist another customer. “Never look a gift horse in the mouth.”

Bren bit her lip.

Taking handouts didn’t sit well. And this was a handout, no question about it. When Fred rented the cottage to tourists, he no doubt charged the monthly amount he’d quoted her for a mere handful of nights.

“Don’t overthink it, my dear.” Fred’s mouth bowed. “Helen would be happy to see the cottage occupied again, and she was all about extending a helping hand to those in need. Let me do this for you in her memory.”

Smart strategy to position it as a favor to him .

And since he’d put it that way, maybe she should think of his out-of-the-blue offer as a birthday gift on this day that had otherwise been totally unbirthdaylike.

“If you’re certain, then I accept.”

“Wonderful. Come by whenever you like later today, and I’ll give you the key.” With a courtly dip of his head, he strolled across the shop and exited.

As the door closed behind him, Bren went back to work, heart lighter, spirits buoyed.

See? Even on an otherwise bad day, there was goodness to be found.

And there was yet more goodness after the shop closed at one o’clock and a dozen of her friends from Hope Harbor spilled out of the back room bearing brownies from Sweet Dreams Bakery and tacos from Charley’s stand to help her celebrate her milestone birthday.

Warmth bubbled up inside her as they all indulged in a hug fest.

This was why she’d settled here. Put down roots.

Maybe she didn’t earn a lot of money working as a barista. Maybe she didn’t live in a plush house like the one of her youth. Maybe a carefully vetted special someone to share her life with wasn’t in the cards for her.

But look at her friend at Bev’s Book Nook. The bookshop owner lived a simple life too—on her own terms, with no apparent regret about the lack of romance in her life. She was a role model, for sure.

And as Bren gathered up her things, thanked everyone for coming to her surprise party, and set off for her house to pack up the items she’d need for the next few weeks, she made a resolution.

In this new decade of her life, she was going to embrace her solo life and put to rest the insidious, romantic daydreams that crept up on occasion. Banish once and for all any illusions about happily ever after.

Because as she knew firsthand, illusions could lead to nightmares.