he drove away, she watched him with honest appreciation. That he’d devised another way to help with her work touched her in a totally unexpected way. Despite what he knew about her sketchy judgment, Cooper was treating her like a pro. Her confidence was still in tatters, but the respect he was showing her made her think she just might be able to turn the page and start a new chapter in her career.
She certainly hoped so. Because all through college and the past few years, she’d put every ounce of talent and energy she had into her journalism.
Since first learning to write, she’d loved nothing more than spinning stories. As she got older, she discovered she had a knack for describing things she saw and heard, and that people seemed to like talking to her. A well-placed question or two usually got them started, and all she had to do was listen. That, her father informed her, was a valuable skill, and he’d mentored her with great enthusiasm for her growing ability. As she’d progressed from local papers to national coverage of truly important issues, his pride in her had increased. He’d taken her recent fall from grace almost as hard as she had.
For his sake—and her own—she was determined to wrestle her career back on to its upward track. Without it, she was nothing.
Pessimism had gotten to be a nasty habit with her, and she consciously pushed the defeatist thought aside. She’d promised to call her mother when she got settled, so she pulled out her cell phone to check the signal. It wasn’t great, but good enough for a quick call, so she thumbed the speed dial for the number.
When her mother answered, Bree put on a smile she hoped would reach through the connection. “Hey there. I’m set at the hotel, so this is me calling you like I promised.”
“Thank you, sweetie. I know it’s silly, but I appreciate you calling.”
“No problem.” Bree craned her neck for a look at the mirrored light rotating overhead. “You should see this place, Mom. It’s an old lighthouse a stone’s throw from the water. Very Wuthering Heights.”
“It sounds wonderful.” An art teacher at a small college in Connecticut, her very creative mother admired anything with character. “Send me some pictures if you have time.”
“Hang on.” Strolling a few yards away, Bree snapped a photo with her phone and texted it over. It took longer than usual, but it managed to get through. “How’s that for service?”
“Oh, it’s beautiful! Think of how many ships have sailed past it on their way into the harbor. All the sailors and crewmen, just imagine the stories they could tell.”
“I’ll be finding out later on.” Bree shared her plans for interviewing the fishermen. “It should be good background for the article.”
“You like it there, don’t you? I can hear it in your voice.”
“It’s fine.” The mayor was especially fine, but she wasn’t going there. Mom would get all kinds of romantic notions from that, and Bree didn’t need the aggravation of having to fend them off. Completely focused on resurrecting her career, she had no time for distractions, however attractive they might be.
“I have to be honest,” she continued, “I didn’t think much of the town ’til I saw the lighthouse. You’d love Mavis Freeman. She’s been running things since her husband died three years ago, but they still call her the keeper’s widow. The house is full of antiques, including her, and I’m convinced she’s memorized the history of every ship that ever went by.”
“You’ve got a love of the sea running through your blood. I’m not sure you remember, but one of my ancestors was a sea captain. Seamus O’Connell was his name.”
“I researched him. He was a pirate, and when the British finally caught him, they hanged him.”
“That may be true, but he still loved the sea. I’m sure that’s where you get it from.”
Thankfully, a beep alerted Bree that she had another call. When she checked the ID, her heart tripped over itself with the alarming combination of excitement and dread that had become all too familiar lately. “My editor’s trying to reach me, Mom. I’ll call you in the morning.”
“I’ll be here!”
Bree said goodbye and switched over to the other call. “Hello, Nick. What can I do for you?”
“Just making sure you got up there in one piece.”
Her intuition was sizzling, which meant there was more to this call than a simple check-in. Not long ago she’d have confronted him directly, but these days she was playing things a little closer to the vest. If she’d done that before, she’d still be working at her dream job in Boston.
She wasn’t thrilled about being flung so far down the ladder, and hopefully being more reserved would keep her from tumbling out of the business altogether. “My connecting flight was delayed, and the bus took a while, but I got here around noon.”
“Good. How’s everyone treating you?”
“Very well, thanks.” While she could tell he was fishing, she had no idea what he was angling for. “Is there anything in particular you want me to include in my article?”
“Lots of local color, anything unique that catches your eye. You’re not from there, so you should be able to pick up on things that’ll appeal to visitors. I want you to paint a great picture of Holiday Harbor so our readers can’t wait to book a ticket up there.”
After getting a few more similarly vague instructions, it dawned on Bree that her questions were too subtle. Despite her vow to be more reserved, she broke down and went the direct route. “What am I really doing here? I mean, it’s quaint and charming and all, but ‘sleepy little town’ is an understatement. The best article in the world won’t change that, and I can’t see why you’d pay me to come all this way to write about this place.”
“Cooper didn’t tell you?”
“Only that you grew up here.”
Nick chuckled. “Yes, I graduated a couple years after Cooper. He tutored me for a while, and without him I never would’ve gotten accepted at New York University. Anyway, when he asked me if Kaleidscope could do the town a favor, I was happy to help. We do have a national audience these days, you know.”
Nick had a reputation for being tightfisted, and she’d picked up on something totally unlike him. “So they’re not paying you to promote Holiday Harbor?”
“Nope.”
Nick had hired her to do a story that wouldn’t financially benefit his business? To her, that was a foreign concept. “That’s generous of you.”
“Hey, we do what we can, y’know?”
Actually, she didn’t know. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d met someone she honestly admired, but it seemed her prospective new boss fell into that category. She heard a smothering sound, then Nick’s voice came back full volume. “There’s a problem with tomorrow’s layout, so I have to run. Do a stellar job on this, Bree. There’s a lot of good people counting on you.”
The line went dead, and Bree shut her own phone off. Tapping it against her chin, she gazed out at the water, lulled by the rhythm of the waves crashing on the rocks. The sun played over the spray, forming minirainbows here and there in the mist. With the weathered lighthouse as a backdrop, it was a remarkable sight.
In spite of her earlier skepticism, Bree reflected on the possibility that her mother could be right. Maybe the old pirate’s love of the ocean was getting to her after all.
Chapter Three
On his way back out to the lighthouse later that afternoon, Cooper congratulated himself on a successful residential closing. Granddad had always handled those, so Cooper hadn’t done one in a while. Fortunately the two real estate agents knew their stuff, and all he’d had to do was dot the