Chapter 4
MITCH
The porch railing had been loose for weeks, one of those small repairs that kept getting pushed to the bottom of the list. Mitch tightened the final bracket and tested it with his weight. It was solid now and hopefully good for at least another few years.
He straightened, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm. The afternoon sun beat down warm on his shoulders, and the ocean breeze carried the smell of salt and beach roses. It was the perfect summer day for outdoor work.
The sound of bicycle wheels on gravel made him turn. Piper came flying up the drive, her dark ponytail streaming behind her, face flushed and happy. She skidded to a stop near the porch steps and hopped off, letting the bike fall onto the grass.
“Grandpa, guess what?” she said, already bounding up the steps.
“What?” he asked, gathering his tools into the toolbox.
“Emma’s mom said I could sleep over next Friday if it’s okay with you. Can I? Please?” Her voice had that edge that told Mitch she wasn’t going to let up until he said yes.
“We’ll see how the week goes,” Mitch said, which was parent-speak for probably yes, but he wanted to maintain some illusion of authority.
Piper grinned, recognizing the code. “That means yes. You’re the best.” She jumped off her bike and threw her arms around his waist in a quick hug, then pulled back, her expression turning serious. “So. Today’s the day, right?”
“The day for what?” Mitch asked, though he had a feeling he knew exactly what was coming.
“The day we welcome Mrs. Carlton properly,” Piper announced. “We’ve been putting it off for days, and that’s not neighborly. Carrie would want us to make her feel welcome.”
“Carrie would want us to give her friend space to settle in,” Mitch countered, but his heart wasn’t in the argument.
The truth was, he’d been thinking about the woman next door more than he should.
The way she moved through the cottage, visible through the windows.
The careful way she explored the beach with Misty.
The car he’d seen sitting on the road, watching.
He gave himself a mental shake. Good grief, Mitch, you sound like a Peeping Tom.
“We made those cookies two days ago,” Piper said. “We could take some over. Everyone loves cookies, and they’re still good. I checked this morning.”
Mitch looked at his granddaughter, at her eager face and determined eyes, and felt his resistance crumbling.
She was right, of course. It would be neighborly to introduce themselves properly.
And he wanted to assess the situation, see if his new summer neighbor had noticed anything unusual. Make sure she was all right.
“All right,” Mitch said with an exaggerated sigh. “Let me clean up and we’ll go over.”
“Yes!” Piper pumped her fist in the air, then raced inside, presumably to get the cookies. “I’m sure Misty has been missing me.”
Mitch put his tools away in the workshop and washed his hands at the outdoor spigot. He changed his shirt, ran a hand through his hair, then told himself he was being ridiculous. This was just a neighborly visit. Nothing more.
When he came back downstairs, Piper had arranged cookies on one of Julia’s good plates and covered them with plastic wrap. She stood by the door, practically vibrating with anticipation.
“Ready?” she asked.
“Ready,” he confirmed.
They walked across the grass that separated the two properties, following the worn path that generations of neighbors had created. Seabird Cottage looked peaceful in the afternoon light, its windows open to catch the breeze, white curtains fluttering.
Piper bounded up the porch steps ahead of him and knocked on the door with more enthusiasm than was strictly necessary. Mitch heard movement inside, the click of dog nails on hardwood, then the door opened.
They were greeted with a warm smile that lit up the woman’s very beautiful face as she stood in the doorway, and for a moment, Mitch forgot what he’d planned to say.
She was taller than he’d realized from a distance, maybe five-eight, with long chestnut hair that fell past her shoulders in soft waves.
Her eyes were an unusual color, somewhere between green and yellow, and they held a warmth that matched her smile.
She wore simple clothes, jeans, and a pale blue shirt, but there was something about the way she carried herself.
An elegance, a grace, like she glided rather than walked.
“Hi,” she said, her voice soft and genuinely welcoming as Misty pushed past Lori and launched herself at Piper with the enthusiasm only a dog reuniting with a beloved friend could manage.
The shepherd’s tail wagged so hard her whole back end swayed, and she made sounds that were half-whine, half-joy.
“Misty!” Piper dropped to her knees, wrapping her arms around the dog’s neck. “I missed you so much, girl. So, so much.”
Misty licked Piper’s face, her ears back in pure happiness, pressing against the girl like she couldn’t get close enough.
“I’m sorry,” Lori said, laughing. “She’s usually better behaved than this.”
“Don’t apologize,” Mitch said, finding his voice. “They’re old friends.”
“I can see that,” Lori said, her smile warm as she watched the girl and the dog.
Piper looked up, still hugging Misty. “I look after Misty for Carrie all the time,” she explained. “I walk her after school, and sometimes I watch her when Carrie has to work late. We’re best friends, aren’t we, girl?”
Misty responded by licking Piper’s face again, making the girl giggle.
“That explains the reunion,” Lori said. “I’m Lori Carlton, and I know you are my neighbors.”
“Yes, sorry. I’m Mitch Brandon, and this is my granddaughter, Piper,” Mitch introduced them.
“Sorry, we were rude,” Piper said, standing up but keeping one hand buried in Misty’s fur.
Then she seemed to remember why they were there.
“Oh!” She grabbed the plate she’d dumped in Mitch’s hand when she’d bent to pat Misty.
“We brought you cookies. We made them two days ago, but they’re still really good.
Grandpa and I make cookies all the time. It’s one of our things.”
She held out the plate, and Lori accepted it with evident pleasure.
“How thoughtful,” she said. “Thank you both. Would you like to come in? I could make coffee to go with these.”
“Only if we’re not interrupting your afternoon,” Mitch said politely.
“Not at all,” Lori assured them. “I was just reading, and I’d much rather have company. Please, come in…” She glanced at the porch table, chairs, and swing. “Or we could sit out here if you prefer?”
“We can sit here,” Mitch said.
“Give me a few minutes and I’ll go put the kettle on,” Lori told them and disappeared inside with the cookies.
Mitch settled into one of the wicker chairs while Piper sat cross-legged on the porch floor with Misty sprawled across her lap.
“She’s nice,” Piper whispered. “And pretty, don’t you think?”
“Piper,” Mitch said in a warning tone, rolling his eyes.
She was getting to the age where she was starting to like love stories, which she’d noticed he didn’t have, and had been hinting that he was going to grow old alone and become a grumpy old recluse.
To which he told her he was already a grumpy old recluse and was doing just fine.
“What? I’m just saying. You said she was Carrie’s friend from Florida, right? Did Carrie tell you what her story was?” Piper’s eyes shone with curiosity.
“That’s not polite to ask,” Mitch told her. “And, no, all Carrie told me was her friend would be staying in her house for the summer.”
“You should’ve asked,” Piper informed him. “You usually ask more questions about people.”
Before Mitch could respond, Lori emerged with a tray holding three mugs of coffee and the plate of cookies, now unwrapped. She set it on the small table between the chairs.
“I hope you don’t mind that I brought some chocolate milk for you, Piper,” Lori addressed her.
“Thank you, Mrs. Carlton,” Piper said politely. “I love chocolate milk.”
“Please, call me Lori,” she said, putting the tray with the coffee pot, mugs, chocolate milk, and cookies on the table and then settling into the other chair. “Mrs. Carlton makes me feel about a hundred years old.”
Lori poured the coffee and passed out cookies, playing hostess with an ease that spoke of years of practice.
“These are delicious,” Lori complimented after taking a bite of the cookie. “What’s in them? I taste chocolate and something else.”
“Toffee bits,” Piper said proudly. “That’s Grandpa’s secret ingredient. Everyone always asks.”
“Well, the secret’s out now,” Mitch said, taking a sip of his coffee. It was good, strong, but not bitter. He noticed Lori’s wedding ring, a simple gold band that caught the sunlight. He also noticed the way her eyes kept drifting toward the road, like she was expecting someone.
“How are you settling in?” Mitch asked. “Everything working all right in the cottage?”
“Oh, yes, it’s perfect,” Lori said, but there was something slightly distracted in her tone. “Carrie left everything so organized. Notes on where everything is, how things work. It made moving in very easy.”
“That’s Carrie,” Mitch said. “She’s thorough.”
“She mentioned you were a good friend,” Lori said. “That you’ve been neighbors for years.”
“Yes,” Mitch confirmed. “Since she bought the cottage.”
“From Martha Stanton’s estate,” Lori said, her expression softening. “I feel like I know Martha from living here. Her presence is everywhere.”
“Martha was a good woman,” Mitch said. “She lived here for fifty years and raised three kids in this cottage after her husband died. She had a strength about her. Quiet but unshakeable.”
“I can feel that,” Lori said, and something in her voice made Mitch think she meant it literally. “Sometimes at night, I hear footsteps in the hallway. Pacing, like someone walking back and forth. But Misty doesn’t bark. She watches, like she knows who it is.”