Chapter 3
LORI
The morning sun slanted across the porch as Lori cradled her second cup of coffee, watching the tide roll in.
Three days at Seabird Cottage, and she was beginning to understand the rhythm of this place.
The way the wind shifted in the afternoon.
How the seabirds called to each other at dawn.
The particular creak of the third step on the front porch.
Lori couldn’t believe how time had flown, and she did nothing but potter around, painting, gardening, and taking long walks on the beautiful beach.
Misty sprawled at her feet, chin resting on her paws, completely content. The shepherd had been delightful company, showing Lori her favorite spots on the beach, the path through the dunes, and the sunny corner of the living room where she napped in the afternoons.
“What do you think, girl?” Lori asked, scratching behind Misty’s ears. “Should we explore town today?”
Misty’s tail thumped against the porch boards.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Lori laughed.
An hour later, they were in the SUV heading toward the Nantucket town center.
Lori had mapped out the route the night before, curious about the shops Carrie had mentioned.
The drive took them along the coast road, past weathered cottages and carefully tended gardens.
Hydrangeas bloomed everywhere, their blue and pink blooms bright against gray-shingled walls.
The town center was exactly what she’d expected from Carrie’s descriptions. Narrow brick streets, historic buildings that had been converted into shops and restaurants, tourists browsing alongside locals. Lori found parking near the town square and clipped Misty’s leash to her collar.
“Let’s go explore,” Lori said to the dog.
As they passed a bakery, a young woman in an apron rushed out, her face lit with pleasure.
She crouched down to greet the shepherd, who wagged her entire body in recognition.
“Hey Misty,” the woman crooned, then looked up at Lori with a warm smile.
“You must be Carrie’s friend she mentioned would be staying at her house for the Summer? I’m Jenny. I work at the bakery here.”
“Hi, I’m Lori.” She shook Jenny’s extended hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“How are you settling in?” Jenny asked. “Sarah at the vet’s office mentioned you arrived a few days ago.”
“Wonderfully, thank you. The cottage is perfect.” Lori’s smile was polite as she mused about how quickly word spreads in a small town. Especially when you’re staying at the police chief’s house for the summer.
“Seabird Cottage was always special. I’m glad Carrie kept it just the way it was.” Jenny gave Misty one more pat. “You bring this gorgeous girl by the bakery anytime. We always have treats for her.” Jenny pulled out a bag of dog treats. “Here you go.”
“That’s very sweet, thank you.” Lori took the treats. “Your bread smells delicious.”
“Oh, why don’t I get you one of our herb loaves?
” Jenny said, and before Lori could say anything, Jenny disappeared into the bakery and popped out a few moments later with a brown paper bag and a box of freshly baked donuts.
“A welcome to Nantucket gift.” She flipped out a larger paper bag and placed the items carefully in it.
“Please, come back and try some of our delicious pastries.”
“Thank you, Jenny, this is very kind of you.” Lori’s smile grew. “I’ll definitely do that.”
As they continued down the street, Lori realized this was going to be the pattern.
She’d lived on Sunset Keys long enough to know how small coastal towns worked.
Everyone knew everyone, and a new face, even a temporary one, was notable.
Add in the fact that she was a friend of the town’s police chief, who also had Carrie’s beloved dog with her, and of course, people would approach.
It was nice, actually. The friendly curiosity, the genuine welcomes. Different from the larger towns. Even in Key West, you could go days without speaking to anyone beyond a cashier.
Lori and Misty browsed through a bookshop that smelled of old paper and coffee. The owner, an older gentleman with kind eyes and reading glasses perched on his nose, recognized Misty immediately.
“Well, hello there, beautiful,” he said to the dog, then extended his hand to Lori. “Robert Maxwell. Welcome to Nantucket.”
“Thank you, I’m Lori Carlton,” Lori introduced herself for the umpteenth time that morning.
“Carrie mentioned you’d be coming. Are you a reader?” He gestured to the packed shelves surrounding them.
“I am. I’m already working my way through Martha’s collection at Seabird Cottage,” Lori replied.
“Martha had excellent taste. But if you need anything else, just let me know and if I don’t have it, I’ll order it for you,” Robert told her.
Lori thanked him and began browsing the fiction section while Misty lay at her feet. She ran her fingers along the spines, reading titles, occasionally pulling one out to read the back cover.
That was when she first noticed him.
A man in a tan windbreaker, standing near the back of the store in the history section. Average height, average build, sandy brown hair. Nothing remarkable about him at all. But something made her look twice.
He seemed to be reading a book, but his posture was wrong. Too still. Too aware.
Lori gave herself a mental shake. She was being ridiculous. The man was just browsing, same as her. This was what happened when you spent too much time alone. You started seeing things that weren’t there.
Lori selected two novels and brought them to the counter, where Robert rang them up with cheerful efficiency.
“Excellent choices,” he said, sliding them into a paper bag. “The mystery, especially. That author grew up here on the island.”
“Really? I’ll have to pay extra attention to the setting then.” Lori smiled before saying goodbye and leaving.
Outside, the morning had warmed into a beautiful summer day. Lori walked Misty through the town square, past art galleries and a small historical museum. She stopped at a café with outdoor seating and tied Misty’s leash to the table leg.
“I’ll just be a moment, girl,” she told the shepherd, who settled down in the shade.
Inside, the café smelled of espresso and fresh pastries. Lori ordered an iced coffee and a blueberry muffin, chatting briefly with the barista, who also recognized Misty through the window and asked how Carrie was doing in Florida.
When Lori emerged with her order, she glanced across the street, and her steps faltered.
The man in the tan windbreaker stood on the opposite sidewalk, looking down at his phone. The same man from the bookshop. Lori was sure it was him as he had the same jacket, the same build, and the same sandy hair.
Lori told herself it meant nothing. It was a small town with only a few shops. Of course, she’d see the same people. He was probably a tourist, doing exactly what she was doing. Exploring, browsing, and enjoying the day.
She sat down at her table and broke off a piece of muffin for herself, trying to ignore the prickle at the back of her neck. The man was still there across the street. Still looking at his phone. Not moving.
Misty lifted her head and looked in the same direction, her ears forward.
“See something, girl?” Lori asked quietly.
The shepherd watched for another moment, then lay back down with a soft huff, but she noticed that her ears stayed trained and her eyes were focused on the spot where the man stood.
Trying her best to ignore the creepy feeling, Lori sipped her coffee and deliberately turned her attention to the town square.
Families strolled past. A street musician played guitar on the corner.
A couple browsed the window of an antique shop.
It was a normal summer day of activities in a tourist town.
When she glanced back across the street, the man was gone.
Relief flooded through her, followed immediately by embarrassment.
She was being paranoid. Jumpy. Maybe it was the nights in the cottage, the sounds of the old house settling, the sense of Martha’s presence.
Maybe she was more on edge than she’d realized.
Lori needed to get a grip, or she wasn’t going to make it through the summer without going crazy on her own.
She gave a soft laugh. She was turning into a crazy, paranoid person.
Next thing she’d be buying dozens of cats.
Maybe that’s why crazy cat ladies had so many cats: they lived in creepy houses, and cats were supposed to be sensitive to that kind of thing.
She finished her coffee and muffin, then untied Misty and headed toward the market. They needed groceries, actual food beyond the basics she’d brought from Boston. The market was larger than she’d expected, well-stocked with both local produce and standard items.
Lori grabbed a cart and began filling it methodically. Fresh vegetables, fruit, chicken breast, pasta, and cheese. The simple task of grocery shopping grounded her, pushing away the lingering unease from earlier.
At the checkout, the young woman scanning her items smiled at Misty, who waited patiently by Lori’s side.
“She’s so well-behaved,” the cashier said. “My dog would be begging for treats by now.”
“She’s not mine, actually,” Lori explained. “I’m staying at her owner’s house for the summer.”
“Oh, you must be Carrie’s friend. Sarah from the vet told me about you.” The cashier grinned. “I’m Melissa. Welcome to Nantucket.”
“Thank you. Everyone’s been so welcoming.” Lori smiled.
“That’s island life for you. We take care of our own, and anyone who’s a friend of Carrie’s is one of ours.” Melissa told her.
The words warmed something in Lori’s chest. She loaded her groceries into the SUV, Misty hopping into the back seat with practiced ease. As she drove back toward Pelican Bay, the tension from earlier faded. She’d let her imagination run away with her. Simple as that.