Chapter 4 #2
Piper’s eyes went wide. “Really? That’s so cool. Do you think it’s Martha’s ghost?”
“Piper,” Mitch said, but Lori laughed.
“I don’t know what I think,” she admitted. “But it doesn’t scare me. It feels protective, if that makes sense. Like the house is taking care of me.”
She really listened when people spoke, Mitch noticed.
Lori made eye contact and gave her full attention.
Especially when she spoke to Piper. She wasn’t doing that adult thing of humoring Piper, the way some adults do with children, talking down to her or half-listening.
Lori engaged with his granddaughter as an equal, treating what Piper had to say as important.
“That makes total sense,” Piper said seriously. “Grandpa said that Martha loved this cottage. Of course, she’d still watch over it.”
They talked easily after that, the conversation flowing naturally from topic to topic. Lori asked about Piper’s summer camp, about what she liked to do. Piper peppered her with questions in return. Where was she from? Did she like Nantucket? What did she do for work?
“I’m an artist,” Lori said. “Watercolors, mostly. Landscapes and seascapes. I have a small studio back home in Florida.”
“That’s amazing,” Piper breathed. “I love art. I’m not very good at it, but I love trying.”
“The trying is the important part,” Lori said. “That’s how you get better.”
Mitch found himself watching Lori’s face as she animatedly talked about her painting. The way her hands moved was expressive and graceful. The way she smiled at Piper’s enthusiasm.
But he also noticed the moments when her attention drifted. The way she startled slightly when a car drove past on the coastal road, even though it was distant and they could barely hear it. The way her fingers traced the rim of her coffee mug, nervous energy that didn’t match her calm exterior.
Something had put her on edge.
“Can I walk Misty on the beach?” Piper asked suddenly. “I mean, if that’s okay with you, Lori. I know she’s not my dog, but we used to walk together all the time.”
“Of course,” Lori said. “I’m sure she’d love that. In fact, why don’t we all go? I could use the walk, and I’d love to see more of the beach.”
They cleared away the coffee mugs and headed down the path to the beach, Piper leading the way with Misty trotting beside her, the two of them already deep in their own world. Mitch fell into step beside Lori, aware of her presence in a way that made him feel like a teenager again.
“She’s a wonderful girl,” Lori said quietly. “Carrie mentioned that you raised her.”
“Thank you,” Mitch said. “I have and it hasn’t always been easy, but Piper makes it worth it.”
“Carrie also told me about your son and daughter-in-law,” Lori said, her voice gentle. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“It was eight years ago now,” Mitch said. “Piper was only two. Sometimes I wonder if it’s better that she doesn’t remember them, or worse.”
“I think it’s both,” Lori said. “Memory is complicated that way.”
There was understanding in her voice, the kind that came from personal experience. Mitch glanced at her wedding ring again.
“Carrie mentioned you lost your husband recently,” he said carefully.
“Yes, it was two years ago,” Lori confirmed. “It was very sudden. He had a heart attack.”
“That’s hard,” Mitch said, because what else was there to say? He knew that kind of loss, the way it carved you hollow and left you wondering how to keep going.
“It is,” Lori agreed. “But I’m learning to carry it better.”
They walked in comfortable silence for a moment, watching Piper throw a stick for Misty, the shepherd bounding after it with joyful abandon.
“How long were you married?” Lori asked.
“Twenty-five years,” Mitch said. “Julia, my late wife, died of cancer fifteen years ago. She was a combat medic in the Army and one of the toughest people I ever met.”
“And you?” Lori asked. “What did you do before retirement?”
The question was natural, expected. Mitch had his cover story ready, the one he’d been using for years.
“Government work,” he said, which was technically true. “Intelligence analysis, mostly.”
Also technically true, though it left out about ninety percent of what he’d actually done.
“That sounds interesting to me,” Lori said. “But then again, I find everything interesting. Trevor used to say I was too curious for my own good.”
Something in the way she said her late husband’s name, with warmth and sadness mixed together, made Mitch’s chest tighten.
They reached the water’s edge, where Piper was splashing in the shallows with Misty. The girl’s laughter carried on the wind, pure and joyful.
“This is perfect,” Lori said, spreading her arms wide. “This place, this moment. It’s exactly what I’ve needed.”
Mitch looked at her, at the way the sunlight caught in her hair, at the peace that had temporarily replaced the tension in her shoulders, and felt something shift in his chest. Something he hadn’t felt in a very long time.
Attraction. Connection. He looked away quickly, focusing on Piper and Misty instead.
They stayed on the beach for another twenty minutes, talking easily, watching the dog and child play. The afternoon light turned golden, painting everything warm and soft. Eventually, they headed back up the path, Piper chattering about summer camp and her upcoming birthday party in August.
As they reached the top of the path, Mitch’s trained eye caught something that made his shoulders tense.
Fresh tire tracks in the soft shoulder near Seabird Cottage. Deep impressions where someone had pulled off the road and sat for a while. The grass was still compressed, the tracks still sharp-edged. It was recent and wasn’t there this morning.
His mind cataloged the details automatically. The width of the wheelbase. Tread pattern. The angle suggested the vehicle had been facing the cottage, not the road. Probably watching the cottages.
“Thank you so much for coming over,” Lori said, pulling his attention back. “It was wonderful to finally meet you both.”
“We should do it again,” Piper said. “Can I come walk Misty tomorrow? I promise I’ll be careful, and I know all her favorite spots and—”
“Piper,” Mitch said gently. “Let Lori have some peace.”
“No, it’s fine,” Lori said, and she sounded like she meant it. “I’d love the company. And I know Misty would too. How about tomorrow afternoon?”
“Really?” Piper’s face lit up. “That would be amazing. Thank you!”
Piper didn’t even realize that she’d made the perfect opening for Mitch to ask, “Have you not had any visitors since you’ve been here?”
“No,” Lori answered. “I don’t know anyone in Nantucket. All my friends are back in Florida.” She gave a soft laugh. “So is the one who lives here.”
Mitch nodded. “Well, we’re just next door if you need anything or want to share a cup of coffee.” He surprised himself by saying those words.
“Thank you,” Lori said, and that’s when he saw it. There was genuine relief in her eyes. Something definitely had Lori on edge. “Please, feel free to stop by any time,” she returned the invitation.
They said their goodbyes, Piper giving Misty one more hug before they headed back to Sunrise House. Mitch resisted the urge to look back at the tire tracks, to examine them more closely. He’d do that later, after dark, when Lori wouldn’t see him.
“I like her,” Piper announced as they reached their porch. “She’s nice. And she didn’t talk to me like I’m a little kid. She really listened.”
“She did,” Mitch agreed.
“And she’s pretty. Did you notice that?” Piper had a sly grin.
“Piper.” Mitch sighed.
“What? I’m just saying. You noticed too, I could tell.” Piper raised a knowing eyebrow.
Mitch sighed. “Go wash up for dinner. And no more matchmaking.”
“I’m not matchmaking,” Piper said innocently. “I’m just making observations.”
She disappeared inside, leaving Mitch alone on the porch. He looked toward Seabird Cottage, at the warm lights glowing in the windows, at the figure moving past them.
Lori Carlton. Widow. Artist. Friend of Carrie’s. A woman who moved with grace and listened with genuine interest and wore her grief quietly but visibly.
Mitch’s jaw tightened as he thought about the fresh tire tracks, and his protectiveness surged.
Something strange was going on. Lori had said she’d have no visitors, and he knew, besides Sally, who had stopped by about four days ago, he hadn’t had visitors either.
That meant someone was either lost or watching their houses.
Mitch decided to wait until full dark, then he’d examine those tire tracks properly.
See if they matched the sedan from yesterday so he could figure out who was watching and why.
Because his gut told him that someone was definitely watching.
And whoever it was had just made it Mitch’s business.