Chapter 6
Chapter Six
The longer she trekked back to her family’s old house, the more the memories came alive.
Emma followed Luke down a gentle incline, the trail lined with mossy rocks and gnarled roots. Just past the first bend, she reached out and touched a jagged boulder jutting from the hillside. She and her parents had always stopped here to rest, especially when they carried groceries and supplies.
Then came the fork in the trail—the place where veering left led to a rocky outcropping instead of the house. She stopped to check for the telltale markings carved into the bark of a massive tree.
She pointed. “Remember?”
Luke glanced at the tree where he’d carved their initials, then drawn a jagged heart around them.
The letters and the heart were barely visible now.
Two pink splotches formed on his cheeks.
“Oh, I remember. Who could forget your dad’s reaction?
I thought he was going to push me off the end of the dock the next time he saw me. ”
“Ha.” She nudged his shoulder with hers. “Turns out he had bigger problems than you dating his daughter.”
Luke winced.
Uh-oh. Her insides twisted. “Sorry. That came out wrong.”
“No, you’re right,” Luke said, staring through the trees toward the water. “He must’ve wrestled with a ton of guilt. I hate that he had such good intentions, wanting to build that cannery and all, but somehow his plans went off the rails.”
Emma nodded. “I know it’s hard to believe, but he had a big heart.”
Luke turned, his expression filled with empathy. “He certainly loved you.”
She swallowed past the tightness in her throat. “I know.”
They walked in silence. Damp earth squished under their feet, and the rhythmic sound of waves lapping against the rocks filled the air, mingling with the rustle of the wind.
At fifteen, she’d walked this path feeling invincible, the whole world stretching out ahead of her. Now, the distance between her past and present felt insurmountable.
“You okay?” Luke’s voice was quiet, but it broke through the web of memories.
Emma forced a nod. “This is a lot to process.”
He didn’t press her. He never had. Not when they were kids, and not now. It was one of the things she’d always liked about him.
Dangerous territory, thinking about what she liked about Luke.
Her breath hitched as the house came into view.
The back side of the spacious one-story home didn’t look any better than the front. The sea lions hadn’t budged, their massive bodies still draped across the deck in lazy defiance.
Emma covered her mouth with one hand, her other pressed against her chest. This place used to smell like pine, cedar, and sea spray. Before her dad had made a mess of everything, it had been a sanctuary. Now, it was nothing more than a neglected piece of property with a massive pest problem.
“I tried to warn you,” Luke said, his words laced with empathy.
Emma wanted to tell him she didn’t care—that she was fine—but the words wouldn’t come.
Because that was a lie. She did care. A stupid, hollow kind of caring that made her feel like the scared fifteen-year-old who had begged her mom to let her stay, only to be told she had no say in her own future.
That leaving Redemption was her only option.
She turned away, blinking back tears. The past wasn’t supposed to feel this raw. Not after all these years, not when she was engaged to someone else.
Nathan.
She drew in a ragged breath. Nathan offered her a future. A stable, secure, glorious future. The sooner she evicted the sea lions, fixed up the house, then sold it, the sooner she could get back to her life—and her man—in Boston.
Luke cleared his throat. “We don’t have to do this today.”
“Yes, we do,” Emma said, more sharply than she intended.
But she couldn’t snatch the words back. She needed to do this. To face what was left of her past and prove to herself that it didn’t hold power over her anymore.
Even if, deep down, she wasn’t sure that was true.
“You ever distracted a colony of sea lions before?” Luke set his backpack on the ground, then gestured to the mass of blubbery bodies sprawled across every flat surface they could find.
At least on the side of the property facing the water.
The animals grumbled and shifted, unbothered by their presence.
Cradling her aching wrist, she shot him a dry look. “Oh, sure. All the time. It was an elective in college. Sea Lion Eviction 101.”
Luke grinned. “Good. Then you know that food might lure them away for a little while, but it’ll just make them stay longer.”
“I really don’t care about their meal plans. I need to get in that house.”
He nodded toward his backpack. “I’ve got a flare in here. We’ll try noise first. If that doesn’t work, we give ’em a little light show.”
Emma stared at him. “Is that legal?”
“Drake didn’t say it wasn’t.”
With a sigh, she took his speaker as he pulled up a playlist on his phone. A moment later, AC/DC’s “Thunderstruck” blasted through the crisp morning air.
The sea lions lifted their heads, some of them startled, others looking downright irritated. A few snorted and shuffled in place, but none of them moved.
Luke turned the volume up. “Come on, guys. Get the hint.”
Emma bounced on her toes. “Maybe something more annoying?” She grabbed the phone from his hand and scrolled until she landed on a banger. “Aha! ‘Baby Shark’!”
The infamous children’s song filled the air, and several sea lions let out distressed barks. One let out a deep, almost humanlike groan and flopped onto its side as if personally victimized. Another began moving toward the water.
Emma gasped. “It’s working!”
Luke glanced at her, shaking his head. “Diabolical.”
“Desperate times and all that. Right?”
Luke laughed as another sea lion flopped into the water. “Guess they do have taste.”
Dancing to the beat, she tipped her head back and let out a loud whooping noise. Yeah, okay, so she probably looked and sounded ridiculous, but she’d try almost anything to get these beasts to move on. More sea lions shifted, some scooting toward the dock, others simply barking in protest.
Then a burst of red light streaked across the sky, fizzling over the water.
She turned around. “What was that?”
Grinning, Luke tucked a lighter back in his pocket. “Flare.”
Several sea lions bolted for the water, flippers smacking against the dock. It was chaos. Emma whooped again, and more of the animals made a raucous, grumbling exit.
Her phone buzzed in her jacket pocket, and she fished it out, wincing as the motion tugged at her tender wrist. Nathan’s name lit up the screen. She swiped to read the text.
Nathan
Everything okay? How’s the house look?
She sighed, then tucked her phone away without replying. When she looked up, Luke was watching her, his expression unreadable.
“He worries,” she said.
Luke lowered the volume on the music. “Understandable.”
She hesitated. “He wants what’s best for me.”
A muscle in Luke’s jaw twitched. “Does he know what that is?”
Before she could respond, a low buzzing sound squelched their conversation.
She whirled back around toward the water. “Is that—?”
“Uh-oh,” Luke said. “We’ve got company.”
A drone hovered a few yards away, its small camera lens locked onto them. Out in the water, a fishing boat bobbed not far from the end of the partially ruined dock. The men on board hooted with laughter as they held up their phones, clearly recording the whole spectacle.
Her stomach twisted. “Yikes. Hope our seal-lion eradication efforts don’t go viral.”
“Yeah.” Luke dragged his palm down his face. “Drake might not be real impressed.”
She studied him as he glanced toward the boat. Honestly, Fish and Game were the least of her worries. How in the world was she going to get this place cleaned up and on the market in the next six days?
Ethan liked to say that pie could solve almost any problem, a lesson he’d probably learned from Tisha and Sadie, but tonight Luke was not convinced.
“Did you guys save room for dessert?” Charlie, their server at Homestead Café, stopped beside their booth. “Tisha baked a fresh apple pie this afternoon.”
“I’m still working on my fries,” Luke said. “Thanks for checking in.”
“No problem.” Charlie glanced at Ethan and Tate. “Need refills on your pop?”
“I’m good,” Ethan said. “Thanks.”
Tate glanced up from his phone. “No, thank you.”
“Let me know if you change your mind about the pie.” Charlie smiled, then crossed to the L-shaped counter and chatted with two customers sitting on stools. The aroma of cinnamon and sugar mingled with the familiar scent of french fries and the half-eaten cheeseburger on Luke’s plate.
Luke stared at the note he’d started on his phone. The words MORE CUSTOMERS served as the heading in bold capital letters, but he and his brothers had only come up with a bunch of half-formed ideas in a bulleted list. None of them were good enough to generate much income though.
At least not compared to the reservations he’d canceled, including six people tied to prepaid heli-flights. That was nearly ten grand in revenue. Gone. So now it was on him to replace what they’d lost.
Across the table, Ethan bit into his chicken sandwich. Tate sat beside him, his fries untouched as he scrolled through his phone, brow furrowed. Probably thought he’d find the perfect solution to their financial woes somewhere on the Internet.
Luke glanced around the dining area. Only five other customers in the whole place.
Charlie stood behind the counter, tucking clean paper napkins into the stainless-steel dispenser.
How did the Binfords plan to stay open with so few customers?
Ethan might know since Tisha baked all the pies the café sold, but it wasn’t really any of Luke’s business.
“What about a spring-break promo for the resort?” Ethan dusted crumbs from his fingertips. “Easter and the public schools’ spring break are at the same time this year. Something like…cozy winter getaways, hot cocoa by the fire—”