Chapter 2 #2
“I’m not sure that’s why she’s here.” Mitch kept his voice neutral, but he recognized the territorial undertone in Sally’s words.
She’d always been jealous of his friendship with Carrie, reading things into it that weren’t there.
“I believe she’s here for peace and quiet, and you don’t really live in our neighborhood. ”
“Then, maybe we could welcome her together,” Sally suggested. “Since you and Carrie are such good friends, it would be neighborly of you as this is your neighborhood.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Sally,” Mitch cut off her plan. “I have a lot of work to get done before I fetch Piper, and she has quite a busy afternoon.”
Her expression tightened just slightly. “Of course. How silly, I forgot it’s summer vacation.” She waved it off. “Well, I’d best get going.” She glanced at the dish in his hand. “Enjoy the lasagna. I used that recipe you both always liked.”
“Thanks, Sally.” Mitch walked her back to her car and held the door open as she climbed in.
He watched her drive away, then carried the lasagna inside and put it in the refrigerator. Through the kitchen window, he could see Seabird Cottage. The woman, Lori, sat on the front porch with a sketchbook, and Misty sprawled at her feet.
Something about the scene pulled at him. The quiet contentment of it. The way the morning light caught in her hair. The gentle rhythm of her hand moving across the page.
He turned away and went back to his workshop.
The day passed in the steady rhythm of sanding, measuring, and fitting pieces together. At one-fifteen, he cleaned up and drove back to town to collect Piper from camp. She bounced into the pickup truck, full of stories about the papier-mache volcano they were building.
“Can we stop and get a birthday card for Emma?” she asked. “I remembered we didn’t get one of those with the present.”
“I already got her one,” Mitch told her. “The one you pointed out that day and then forgot to buy.” He leaned over and opened the glove compartment. “It’s in there with a pen for you to write in it.”
“You’re the best, Grandpa.” Piper pulled the card and pen out and quickly wrote in it.
He dropped her at Emma’s house at two o’clock sharp, a renovated captain’s house near the harbor. “I’ll be back at five to pick you up.”
“And then we can meet the new neighbor?” Piper asked once again as she slid out of the pickup.
Mitch sighed. “We’ll see.”
“That still sounds like no.” Piper stood staring at him with a hand on the door.
“That sounds like maybe. Now go have fun.” Mitch waved her away, then flinched as she slammed the door. Why can’t kids ever just close doors? He remembered his sons did that too when they were young. In fact, his youngest son, Ryan, still did it.
He watched Piper run up the walkway and disappear inside before driving back home. The afternoon stretched ahead of him, quiet and open. He could finish the bookshelf, maybe start on the deck repairs.
But when he pulled into his driveway, he found himself looking at Seabird Cottage again. Lori had moved from the porch to the small garden beside the house, pulling weeds from the flower beds. Misty supervised from the shade of a beach rose bush.
She worked methodically, her movements patient. Every so often, she’d sit back on her heels and look out at the ocean, like she was drinking in the view.
Mitch went inside and tried to focus on his own tasks. But his mind kept wandering to the woman next door. Carrie’s friend. A widow, Carrie had mentioned, who was coming here as she needed time to heal in a different environment.
He understood that. Understood the weight of loss, and the way it changed you. It had been fifteen years since his wife Julia’s death, and there were still moments when he reached for her in the morning, forgetting she wasn’t there.
The afternoon drifted by. He worked on the bookshelf, made himself a sandwich, and checked the news. The normal rhythms of a normal day.
At four-thirty, he cleaned up and headed back to town to collect Piper. She emerged from Emma’s house with a goodie bag and a smile, chattering about the party games and the cake that had three layers as she climbed into the back and buckled up.
“So,” she said as they drove home. “Now, can we meet the new neighbor?”
Mitch glanced at her. “You’re relentless.”
“I learned from the best.” Piper grinned smugly.
He couldn’t argue with that. And truth be told, it would be neighborly to introduce himself. Carrie would expect it. And Piper clearly wasn’t going to let this go.
“All right. But let her have her evening. We’ll stop by tomorrow morning.”
“Promise?” Piper’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“Promise.” Mitch’s eyes met hers in the mirror.
Piper settled back in her seat, satisfied. They drove home in comfortable silence as the sun began its descent toward the horizon.
As they turned onto the private road to Pelican Bay, Mitch noticed something that made his shoulders tense.
A sedan sat parked on the narrow shoulder about fifty yards past their houses. It was dark blue with Massachusetts plates. The engine was running, a faint shimmer of exhaust visible in the evening air, and someone sat behind the wheel.
Mitch drove past slowly, not turning his head but using his peripheral vision to gather details.
It was a male driver. From what he could gather, the man was of average build and appeared to be looking at his phone.
But the angle was wrong. From where the car sat, the phone would be in shadow. The man wasn’t looking at the screen.
He was watching the houses.
Mitch pulled into his driveway and helped Piper out, keeping his movements casual. By the time he glanced back at the road, the sedan was pulling away, heading back toward town.
“What’s for dinner?” Piper asked, oblivious to his tension.
“How about we heat up that lasagna Sally brought?” Mitch said without thinking
“Sally was here?” Piper stopped dead in her tracks. “Why?”
Mitch shrugged. “To bring us some lasagna she baked.”
“Yeah, right,” Piper scoffed knowingly. “Although she does make great lasagna.” As they got to the front door, Piper’s head turned toward the Seabird Cottage. “Can I go say hi to Misty first? Just really quick?”
Mitch looked at Seabird Cottage. The lights were on inside, warm and welcoming. He could see Lori moving past a window. “Not tonight. Carrie’s friend is probably having dinner.”
Piper’s shoulders slumped, but she nodded and headed inside. “Fine,” she did her grumble thing that made sure he knew she was irritated.
Mitch followed more slowly, his mind already cataloging details of that sedan that was loitering on their street. His mind ticked over with the sedan’s make and model. Partial plate number. The way it had been positioned for surveillance rather than just parking.
It was probably nothing. A tourist who got turned around or someone checking their GPS. It happened. Especially in the summer when tourists flocked to Nantucket.
But thirty years in intelligence had taught him to trust his instincts. And his instincts said the car didn’t belong here, and whoever was in it wasn’t a lost tourist, no matter how hard they had tried to portray it that way.
Mitch made Piper her dinner and sat with her while she ate, half-listening to her continued stories from the party. After she’d cleaned her plate and headed upstairs to read before bed, Mitch stepped out onto his porch.
Full darkness hadn’t fallen yet, the sky still holding onto the last traces of twilight. The ocean murmured its endless conversation with the shore. Next door, Seabird Cottage glowed with warm light from the windows.
Mitch stood there for a long time, watching the road.
The sedan didn’t return.
But he had the feeling, deep and certain, that it would.
And when it did, he’d be ready, as he didn’t like strangers lurking about watching like a predator waiting to pounce.