Chapter 7
7
Who was the suitcase-lugging woman—teen?—following Bren across his father’s backyard?
From the table in front of the guest room window where he’d set up shop, Noah watched over the screen of his laptop as the two figures hurried through the rain toward the cottage and disappeared inside.
Did his father know his temporary tenant had invited someone to stay with her? Did their agreement include weekend guests? Or was Bren taking advantage of his father’s generosity?
At the very least, his dad should know if someone else was staying overnight on his property. For insurance purposes, if nothing else.
After finishing his interrupted calculation, Noah left the problematic spreadsheet he’d been laboring over open on the screen and strode down the hall.
As he entered the kitchen, his father pushed through the door that led from the adjacent laundry room to the garage.
“It’s a wet one out there. I’m glad we finished our game before the skies opened.” Dad shrugged out of his jacket and hung it on a hook by the door. “Did you enjoy The Perfect Blend?”
“The coffee was fine, but I didn’t stay long. They don’t have Wi-Fi.”
“I know. Isn’t it refreshing to find a place where the only way to get wired is by drinking coffee?”
“Not if you have work to do.”
“I thought you were on vacation.” His father entered the kitchen and set a small, flat box on the table.
“It’s a working vacation. After I had my coffee, I came back here so I could log in to the secure server at the office.” He motioned toward the cottage. “Did you know your tenant invited someone to stay with her?”
His father’s eyebrows arched. “No. How do you know?”
“I saw her arrive about ten minutes ago.”
“Maybe a friend came to visit her for the weekend.” His dad moseyed over to the sink and began putting away the dishes in the drainer, as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
That made one of them.
“Don’t you think she should have asked you first?”
“Why?”
“Because you did her a favor by offering to let her use the cottage, and she’s renting it for a song. Did she give you a deposit for damages?”
His father shot him a get-real look. “Of course not. I trust her to take care of the place. If she does happen to break anything, I expect she’ll offer to pay for it.”
“What if she doesn’t? Not everyone is honest.”
“Bren is.”
“How do you know?”
His father angled toward him, plate in hand. “My goodness, Noah. When did you become so cynical and suspicious?”
He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’ve seen a fair amount of deceit—and situations that aren’t what they seem to be—in my work.” And elsewhere.
“You must have. Makes me glad I was a draftsman.” Dad slid the plate into the cabinet. “You don’t have to worry about Bren. We go to the same church, and she’s been known to step forward if a need arises at Helping Hands. That young woman has a heart of—”
A knock sounded on the back door, and Noah swiveled toward it.
Bren was visible through the window.
“Speak of the devil ... though that doesn’t fit in her case.” His father crossed the room and pulled the door open. “Are your ears burning?”
“Should they be?”
“We were just talking about you.” His father hooked a thumb over his shoulder.
Bren peeked sideways. Moistened her lips as she caught sight of her pepper gel victim. “I can, uh, catch up with you later. I don’t want to interrupt.”
“You aren’t. Come on in.” His father pulled the door wide.
She stayed put. “I tried to call earlier, but no one answered.”
Dad pulled out his phone. Rolled his eyes. “I forgot to take it off silent mode after my golf game. What did you need?”
“I wanted to ask if it would be okay to have someone stay with me for a few nights. If you like, I’ll be happy to increase my rent for the week to cover two people.”
His father sent him a smug “see what I mean?” glance before continuing his exchange with Bren. “You’re welcome to have a guest. And there’s no extra charge. The place is yours while you’re here. Did a friend come to town for a visit?”
“No.” She wiped her palms down her black slacks. “This wasn’t planned. She’s a customer, actually. Her car died in front of the shop, and I don’t think she has the money for a hotel while she waits for it to be repaired.”
Noah stared at her.
She’d taken a stranger in off the street?
Who did such a thing in this day and age?
What if this was a scam? A setup? It could even be dangerous. Why would Bren put both his father and herself into such a tricky—
“That was very kind of you.” Dad’s tone was warm and approving.
Noah almost choked on his spit.
How on earth could his father be on board with this crazy idea?
Someone whose brain was working needed to step in here. Fast.
“Dad.” He moved forward, ignoring Bren. “Letting a stranger stay on the property may not be wise. I got a glimpse of her, and she looks very young. If she’s not of legal age, you could get into trouble for—”
“She’s eighteen. I asked.”
As Bren spoke, Noah transferred his attention to her. “Did you see any proof?”
“She showed me her driver’s license. She’s from Nebraska.”
“She came a long way.”
“I expect she had her reasons.”
“You do realize the license could be a fake.”
“It’s not.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do, okay?” After giving him a narrow-eyed glare, she directed her next comment to his father. “If you’re uncomfortable with this and want me to ask her to leave, I will. I can give her enough money for a couple of nights at the Gull. But I really think she could use some TLC, and I hate to turn someone out who’s hit a rough stretch.”
“A little kindness goes a long way toward smoothing rough paths and healing hearts.”
As Charley’s words from their meeting at the lighthouse replayed through his mind, Noah studied Bren.
Had she hit a rough stretch in the past too? Is that why she recognized the signs in the younger woman?
“What would it take for you to be comfortable with the arrangement?” His father directed the question to him.
If Dad was willing to offer concessions to appease him, he’d take full advantage of that.
“I’d feel better if law enforcement ran her through their system.”
“She’d have to agree to that.” Bren folded her arms, a mutinous tilt to her chin.
“Fine. Ask her. If she doesn’t have anything to hide, why would she object?”
“I don’t want her to think I don’t trust her.”
“Given the crime statistics in today’s world, I don’t see how she could object if you exhibit prudent caution. Blame it on me, if you want to.”
His father’s gaze ping-ponged between the two of them. “Practically speaking, I see Noah’s point. However, I also trust your instincts, Bren. Why don’t you ask if she’d mind letting the police run her license? If she agrees and it comes back clean, she’s welcome to stay as long as you want to host her. If the request offends her and she decides to leave, I’ll contribute toward a room at the Gull while she’s waiting for her car to be fixed. Everyone agreeable to that?”
Noah mashed his lips together.
No, he was not agreeable. No one took in strangers these days, nor would any reasonable person accept such an invitation. This was a disaster waiting to—
“Yes.”
As Bren responded in the affirmative, two sets of eyes swung toward him.
Blast.
If he balked, he’d come across as heartless. And this was his father’s property. His dad could do whatever he wanted.
The wisest plan would be to go with the flow until they found out whether the woman was open to a background check.
If she refused or red flags popped up, end of story.
If she agreed and her record was clean?
He’d have to make certain Dad didn’t forget to lock his doors—a habit he and Mom had begun to neglect after they moved here.
“I can live with that.” His tone was grudging, at best.
“Problem solved.” His dad turned to Bren again. “Let me know what she says. If she agrees with our plan, I’ll have a chat with Lexie. That’s our police chief.” Dad tossed the last part of the comment over his shoulder to him.
“I’ll ask her and let you know. Give me a few minutes.”
“No hurry on my end.”
Noah didn’t say another word.
Without sparing him a glance, Bren pivoted and disappeared.
Only after his father closed the door did Noah speak. “I realize Hope Harbor is a tiny town, Dad, but bad stuff happens everywhere. Letting that stranger stay here is like picking up a hitchhiker.”
“Not quite.” He returned to the dish rack and continued putting away the dry plates, glasses, and silverware. “The young woman Bren took in wasn’t seeking a ride—or a place to stay. Bren offered.”
Noah fisted one hand on his hip and raked the fingers of the other through his hair. “What on earth would compel her to do that? Doesn’t she read the paper or listen to the news?”
“I expect she does. But from what I’ve seen of her, she also has a caring heart.” His father’s mouth tipped up as he folded the dishcloth and set it on the counter. “You know what this situation reminds me of? The time you climbed that tree to rescue a kitten when you were a kid. You always had a soft spot for critters in trouble.”
Noah grimaced. “That isn’t a pleasant memory. If you’ll recall, I got my foot stuck in a branch and the fire department had to extricate me. I also remember how that sweet kitty raked its claws down my arm before it leapt to the ground of its own accord. I still have the scars. Which reinforces my point. Sometimes trying to help backfires. Someone could get hurt here too.”
“Let’s see what Lexie has to say. There’s leftover pizza in that box, if you’re hungry.” He motioned to the table.
Discussion over, apparently. At least for now.
“No, thanks. I should get back to work.”
“You know what they say about all work.”
“I’ll find time for fun while I’m here.”
But as he retraced his steps down the hall, fun was the last thing on his mind.
Even if Hope Harbor was as idyllic as everyone claimed, that didn’t mean a person should wear blinders.
And whether or not Bren’s unexpected houseguest was cleared by the police, he intended to keep his eyes wide open for the duration of her stay.
The owner was going to kick her out.
Twisting her fingers together, Emma reached the end of the living room in the cottage, pivoted, and paced back.
It would be hard to blame him if he wanted her to leave. In his place, she’d be nervous about a stranger on her property too.
In truth, she was more than a little nervous about being on the property. After all, who took a stranger into their home in this day and age—unless they had a hidden and perhaps questionable agenda?
Except Bren had offered her pastor as a reference.
She wouldn’t do that if there was anything sketchy about her motivation, right?
It was possible she was a genuine Good Samaritan. A rare breed for sure, but they did exist, and—
The doorknob rattled, and a moment later Bren entered.
“Sorry. The owner’s son was there, and we ended up having a longer conversation than I expected.” She motioned to the couch. “Why don’t we sit for a minute?”
Stomach clenching, Emma focused on the irregular grain in the hardwood floor beneath her feet as Bren moved across the room.
This was it. The woman who’d unexpectedly come to her rescue was going to tell her she had to go. She’d have to shell out the bucks for the Gull Motel for at least one night until she—
“Emma.”
At Bren’s soft summons, she lifted her head.
“Let’s sit.” Bren patted the seat beside her.
She stayed where she was. “If the owner wants me to go, you can tell me. I understand why he’d be concerned.” Hard as she tried for a matter-of-fact tone, a quiver ran through her voice.
“No one’s kicking you out. The decision about whether to go or stay will be up to you after we talk.”
Not what she’d expected.
Maybe there was hope after all.
In silence, she walked over to the couch and perched on the edge.
“The owner was fine with the idea of you staying. His son is the one who has concerns.” Bren leaned toward her, radiating empathy. “He’s got a big-city, crime-conscious mindset, and he’s having difficulty understanding why I would invite a woman I just met to share my living quarters.”
“I can’t blame him. I’ve been wondering the same thing.”
Bren’s lips flexed. “Let’s just say I’m paying it forward. There was a fire at my house, and Fred offered to let me stay in this cottage until my place is habitable again.” She smoothed out a wrinkle in the fabric of the couch, her expression growing more serious. “Plus, your situation struck a chord with me.”
That was all she offered, but it didn’t take a genius to read between the lines.
The woman sitting beside her had found herself in a bad situation once too.
Which raised a ton of questions.
But since Bren hadn’t expounded on that comment, Emma confined herself to the matter at hand. “What did you mean about the choice to stay being up to me?”
She listened as Bren explained the plan.
It was hard to find fault with the request.
And what could it hurt to let the police run a background check? It wasn’t as if she had anything to hide. Her record was spotless.
“I’m fine with that.” She picked up her purse from the coffee table in front of the couch and extracted her wallet. “Do you want my license?”
“Let me talk to the owner first. Give me a sec.” Bren pulled out her cell, had a brief conversation that involved more listening than talking, and ended the call. “He’s going to contact our local police chief and explain the situation. We’ll either run over to her office, or she’ll swing by here.”
Frowning, Emma set her purse back on the coffee table. “I’m causing you an awful lot of bother.”
“No, you’re not—but I do have to work this afternoon. If you’d like to explore the town, feel free. The rain seems to be over.” She motioned toward the window, where a patch of blue sky was now visible among the dispersing clouds.
“I thought the coffee shop was closed for the day.”
“It is. But I also do calligraphy. It started as a hobby, but the business kept growing.” She stood. “There are benches on the wharf, if you want to wander down there. It’s a perfect spot to—” She lifted her phone, scanned the screen, and put it to her ear. “Hi, Fred. That was fast ... Yeah ... We’ll be here. Thanks again.” She slid her cell into her pocket. “Lexie will swing by at the end of her shift. So you have what’s left of the afternoon to stretch your legs and see the town. Hopefully Marv will call soon with news on your car too.”
Emma rose as well. “Let me give you my cell number in case anything comes up.”
After they exchanged numbers, Emma left Bren to her work.
And as she strolled down the street in the direction of the harbor and filled her lungs with the tangy salt air, a gentle peace enveloped her.
Challenges lay ahead, no question about it. The biggest one at the moment being her car repair bill.
But somehow she felt less overwhelmed and alone than she had since Mom died six months ago.
Odd, considering that she was among strangers in a strange town, her bank balance was dwindling, and she didn’t have a job or a permanent place to live.
Yet as the sun peeked out, brightening the world, her heart felt lighter.
It was possible, of course, that her more upbeat attitude would be short-lived. She could wake up tomorrow feeling just as anxious and unsettled as she’d been since she’d crossed the state line in Nebraska, leaving Justin behind in the Cornhusker State.
Wouldn’t it be wonderful, though, if she’d turned a corner? If a better life was ahead? If there were more people around like Bren, who were willing to take a risk and reach out to a young woman who desperately needed to know that this new adult world she’d entered wouldn’t be filled with users like Bill?
And if such an outcome came to pass, it would trace its origins to the car problem that had landed her on Bren’s doorstep.
She paused at the corner, checked both directions for traffic, and continued across.
Funny.
A handful of hours ago, she’d prayed for a miracle as she’d twisted the key in the ignition. When the engine didn’t start, she’d assumed her request had fallen on deaf ears.
Yet what if it hadn’t? What if her car issues ended up not being a disaster but a literal godsend? What if meeting Bren and getting stuck in this little town ended up being the best thing that could have happened to her?
Wishful thinking, perhaps. Fairy-tale outcomes were more often found in books than in real life.
But maybe, just this once, real life would turn out to hold a happy ending for her.