Christmas on the Coast Read online

  “Sit down, Trey. Want some coffee?” Without waiting for an answer, Amber turned and reached high for a cup, her sweatshirt rising to reveal a thin slice of skin above those skimpy leggings. Women shouldn’t wear them, Wendy had always said; she’d thought them too tight and revealing. Paul had agreed, just to keep the peace. He hadn’t been the best husband in the universe, but he’d known enough not to defend other women’s revealing clothing choices to his wife.

  He looked away and realized that Trey had seen him checking her out. He hadn’t been, not really. He’d just noticed what any guy would notice, probably including her brother-in-law. Still, his face heated. He didn’t need to add “creepy old guy” to the list Trey was no doubt making in his head.

  Not that he was that much older than Amber. Ten years, at the most.

  But ten years could be a lifetime.

  Amber put coffee in front of Trey and then looked at Paul. “Want a refill of hot chocolate? Or some coffee?” She glanced down at Davey. “I’m thinking he won’t need a refill.”

  Indeed, Davey was resting his head on Sarge now, his eyelids fluttering like he could barely keep them open.

  “Thanks, I’ll just finish this off.” He wrapped a hand around the still-warm mug.

  Trey pulled out his phone and started texting. Apparently, he’d decided Paul wasn’t an immediate threat. “Letting Erica know everything’s settled down,” he said to Amber. “She’s worried.”

  “Take a pic so she knows I’m okay,” Amber said, and struck a pose, her own coffee cup lifted in a toast, pasting on a big smile. “And then I’ll fix you some eggs because I know you’re always hungry. It’s the least I can do, calling you out in the middle of the night.”

  That last was directed at Trey, and again, Paul felt shame. “Sorry to get you up, man,” he said.

  Trey shrugged. “Goes with the territory.” He snapped a photo and went back to his phone, and Paul once again had to tear his eyes away from Amber. She was a character, all right: hair frizzing out wildly behind a colorful headband, tattoos up one arm and rings on most of her fingers. And those bright flowered tights that fit her so well.

  It wasn’t just her clothes or hair, though. He remembered thinking her a little eccentric, in a good way, when she’d come to interview Wendy. Then, she’d worn a dress and some kind of jacket and boots, all professional.

  But she’d gotten Wendy laughing more than he’d heard her laugh in months, and when he’d looked in on them, he’d seen that Amber had pulled off her wig of long hair and was showing it to Wendy. Her head had been completely bald, just as Wendy’s was.

  Amber had beckoned him in and showed them both pictures of her variously styled wigs in all different colors, suggesting which would best suit Wendy.

  Now Amber’s hair was chin length, and he had to assume that it was natural, since she was wearing it home alone in the middle of the night.

  She pulled eggs and a loaf of bread out of the refrigerator and turned as if to ask them something. Then her eyes fell on Davey, now asleep. “Want me to put him to bed on the couch for a little bit?”

  Paul didn’t want his son out of his sight. “He’s just as comfortable sleeping on Sarge. Do you have a blanket, though?”

  She nodded and reached around him for an afghan lying across a kitchen chair. Before Paul could take it from her, she’d knelt and tucked it around Davey, as tenderly as any mother would.

  Paul swallowed. Davey needed a mom. Maybe after Paul pulled himself together—if he ever did pull himself together—he’d try to meet someone. Another Wendy, sweet and steady and pure.

  Amber rose gracefully to her feet and kind of danced over to the counter, set a frying pan heating with a chunk of butter in it and then broke eggs into a bowl with one hand.

  “So, you two know each other?” Trey’s voice was friendly, but Paul could hear the wariness underneath. Trey was still evaluating whether Paul was a risk to his son.

  And the man was well within his rights. It was Paul who’d done something wrong. “Not well,” he said. “Amber interviewed my wife for her book.”

  Amber beat the eggs to a froth with a big silver utensil, poured them into the pan and pulled a small bundle of something green out of the fridge. She snipped pieces into the eggs, then turned to face them. “Davey said she’s in heaven,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Thanks.” He flashed back on Wendy, fixing eggs for breakfast. Not like these eggs—just plain ones—but it had been sweet to have someone cooking for him.

  “Sorry, man,” Trey said. “How’s Davey handling it?”

  “He’s resilient, like all kids.” Paul looked down at his son. “But it’s taken its toll.”

  “On both of you, I imagine.” Amber turned back to the counter and sliced thick pieces of brown bread.

  What could he say to that? “How’d the book do?” he asked Amber. “What with all that’s been going on, I haven’t had time to look for it.”

  “It did great,” Trey chimed in, sounding proud. “In fact, she has an offer to do another one. You going to go for it?”

  Amber stirred the eggs and turned off the burner. “Pretty sure I am.”

  “This next book project seems kind of risky to me,” Trey said. He reached across the table and started reading the spines of a stack of books. “Nepal, Tibet, the Himalayas...”

  “Well, mostly Delhi and Calcutta,” Amber said, smiling, “but I do hope to squeeze in some side trips. They want me to do a book on cancer patients in South Asia,” she clarified to Paul. “How they do with non-Western medicine.”

  “Wow. So you’re going to, what, live there?” Paul couldn’t fathom it. He’d wanted to travel, a lifetime ago.

  “More like a couple of long trips,” she said. “I’m excited.”

  “Cool.” Amber was way far from his comfort zone and his type. The odd little flutter of heat he’d felt was just one of those opposites-attract things.

  Amber scooped eggs onto two plates, added slices of bread to each and brought them over to the table.

  “You’re not eating?” Paul asked.

  “She never eats.” Trey took a big bite. “Even though she’s a great cook.”

  “I do so eat,” she said in a play-whining tone that told Paul she and Trey were close. “Just not in the middle of the night.”

  Paul dug into the eggs, flecked with spices and rich with cheese, and realized he hadn’t had dinner. Had he fixed something for Davey? Geez, what kind of...yes. He’d cut up a hot dog, stirred it into some mac and cheese. Not exactly healthy, but at least he wasn’t starving his kid.

  Amber sat down at the table with them and pulled out a big map. “See, I want to start in Delhi. That’s where my publishers have some contacts. But I’d like to get out into the countryside, too, see how people manage disease when they don’t have access to modern medical centers.” She was running a red-painted fingernail over the map as she talked. “And then I’ll be so close to Nepal, I have to make a side trip there.” Her eyes sparkled.

  “I don’t like the idea of you traveling alone,” Trey said. “Neither does Erica.”

  “I’ll start out alone,” Amber said, “but I doubt I’ll be alone for long. There’s a big expat community in most of these places, so it’s easy to find friends to travel with.”

  Trey shook his head.

  Paul kind of admired that loose attitude toward planning a trip, especially to the other side of the world. “I don’t think I could do that,” he admitted.

  “Well, you couldn’t. You have responsibilities here.” She nodded down at Davey. “But my nest is empty, and except for helping out with the Healing Heroes cottage, I’m free to pick up and go anytime.” Something flashed across her face and then was gone.

  Maybe some of her enthusiasm could be bravado. Maybe she was traveling alone because she didn’t h
ave anyone to go with.

  For just a minute, that wide world of adventure beckoned. He’d never even left the country.

  But no. His job was to be safe and keep his son safe, not go globe-trotting.

  “So you’re staying in the cottage?” Trey asked, and Paul realized the man was still observing him in the guise of making conversation. Probably deciding whether to call child protective services.

  Paul couldn’t blame him. What had happened tonight hadn’t just scared Amber; it had scared Paul as well, badly. It made him wonder whether he was, in fact, fit to parent a child.

  Paul couldn’t let something like that happen again. And he also couldn’t jump up and pull his weapon every time someone knocked on the door.

  He looked directly at Trey. “I had a nightmare, and that’s what scared Davey. I’m getting counseling for PTSD and I’m to do volunteer work here in town. That’s the deal with the cottage. My old boss set me up for it.” He hated revealing even that much, but his symptoms were too obvious to ignore. He couldn’t act like he didn’t know he had a problem. He cleared his throat. “I’m thinking maybe I should give up my weapon for now.” He pulled it out, slowly, and laid it on the table.

  Trey had tensed, but as soon as Paul’s hands were away from the gun, he nodded and scraped the last of the eggs off his plate. “I can hold on to it if you’d like.”

  Paul didn’t like it, not one bit. But he couldn’t risk carrying when he was so obviously out of control. “Thanks.”

  “Think you’re okay to take care of him now?” Trey asked, nodding down at Davey.

  Paul rubbed a hand over his face. “I have to be. I’m all he’s got.” His own words made him straighten his spine. He had to buck up because he could lose everything. Worse, Davey could.

  He needed help, and he had to get it here, or else.

  CHAPTER TWO

  LIGHTHOUSE LIT WAS a comforting place, like any bookstore. Mary Rhoades, its owner and manager, tried to take in that comfort Thursday evening as she knelt beside a box of new dog-related books and fought back tears.

  The lengthening shadows outside reminded her it would soon be time to close. She could indulge in her emotions after she was alone.

  “I told you I’d make that display!” Julie, her best employee, came over and took the book featuring dogs in costumes out of her hands. “Though I still don’t understand why you even need to have a display about pets just three weeks after losing Baby. We’ve got great-looking fall displays. Leave it at that.”

  The mention of her ancient, beloved Maltipoo tightened Mary’s throat, but she swallowed her emotions. “Pet books sell like hotcakes. People will love them.”

  She stood, gripping the edge of the display table for support, her knees complaining. She needed to get back to her exercise class. When you were nearly seventy, aches and pains were inevitable, but exercise did help.

  “I’ll finish this,” Julie said in a mother hen tone. “You unpack the self-help books. And take a couple of them home to read, while you’re at it.”

  “Who’s the boss here, anyway?” Mary complained mildly, but she did as Julie said and went over to start unloading the box Julie had been working on. Julie, a fiftysomething redhead, was way more of a friend than an employee, and had every right to call Mary on her mistakes, like mooning over books full of cute dog photos.

  Mary knew that her grief over Baby was complicated. A counselor had once told her that every loss she had would bring back the biggest loss of her life, especially if Mary didn’t resolve her grief about that. Which, she supposed, she hadn’t; she tried not to think about it.

  What Mary really needed to do was to start a new charity project. Helping others, that was the only thing that filled the empty places inside her. She’d been thinking of an expansion to the Healing Heroes program. Maybe now was the time to stop thinking and start doing.

  The bells on the shop door jingled, and Mary glanced over as a familiar man strutted in. Completely bald and roughly Mary’s age, Kirk James wore a sport coat, pressed jeans and dress shoes. He looked like a man on a mission.

  Mary ducked behind the shelf.

  “Hi, beautiful,” Kirk said to Julie. “Is Mary around?”

  Mary caught Julie’s eye and shook her head, making a zipping motion over her lips.

  “She’s right over there, and she’s feeling blue,” Julie said without a moment’s pause, the traitor. “Maybe you can cheer her up.”

  “Great idea.” Kirk came over and smiled his charming smile. “What do you think, babe? Take a spin with a younger man?”

  She snorted. Kirk was only a couple of years younger than she was, but he was quite the ladies’ man, at least in his own mind. “I’ll pass today, but thanks. Maybe I can interest you in a self-improvement book, though?” She held up a religious text, The New Purity and Why It Works. “This one seems like it could do you some good.”

  He squinted at the title and frowned. “You know I’m not much of a reader.”

  “And you’re in a bookstore because...”

  “Because I was hoping you’d join me for a drink down at the Gusty Gull,” he said. “There’s a band tonight.”

  She raised an eyebrow as she continued shelving books. “There’s that Olson kid playing his harmonica and guitar. Which takes some talent, but it’s not exactly a band.”

  “We could drive into Baltimore,” he offered. “I know you’re used to the finer things.”

  “Thanks, but no.” She’d moved to Pleasant Shores to escape the finer things and make a fresh start. Which didn’t include dating. Men were amusing creatures, but she had no interest in getting involved with one.

  “We’ll drive up the shore tomorrow.” Kirk ignored her refusal as only a retired real estate agent could do. “There’s a guy I know who’s got a litter of new puppies almost ready to find homes.”

  “You should go, Mary.” Julie came over to join the conversation. “At least take a look.”

  “It’s sweet you’re worrying about me,” Mary said, meaning it. “But I’m not ready for a new dog. And I’m perfectly fine, or I will be.”

  It was true. She had a wonderful set of friends, work she loved and plans for the future.

  “Life is short,” Kirk said. “It’s meant to be lived.”

  She glanced down at her watch—she was a dinosaur for wearing one, but she didn’t like to carry her phone everywhere—and saw that it was closing time. Normally, she wasn’t glad of that, but if it would get these two off her case... “I’m sorry,” she said to Kirk, “but I’ve got to start closing up. Anything I can help you with before you go?”

  He threw up his hands. “Aside from taking me up on one of my offers sometime? No.” He turned on his heel and walked out of the shop.

  “Now you’ve hurt his feelings,” Julie said.

  Mary felt a twinge of guilt; Kirk was her next-door neighbor and a nice man, beneath all the posturing. “He’ll recover.”

  “Sure he will,” Julie said, “but men have their pride. I remember when Earl got upset and stayed away for weeks before I finally called him and apologized.”

  Mary put an arm around Julie’s shoulder as they walked toward the register. “And I’m glad you did. He’s perfect for you.”

  “Thank you.” Julie turned and gave Mary a quick hug. “I just worry about you.”

  “Don’t worry,” Mary said. “I’ve been thinking about my next venture.”

  Julie was gathering her things, but she paused and raised an eyebrow, clearly interested. Julie was one of the few people who knew that Mary was the money behind several philanthropic projects in the town. “Healing Heroes has been a big success so far. I saw that the new guy has a little boy.”

  “Yes. It’s up and running smoothly now. And little Davey seems sweet.”

  “Trey is doing great. And you know I’m thrilled about
Drew’s comeback.” Trey and Drew had been the first two participants in the Healing Heroes program.

  Trey had ended up marrying a teacher in town, and they were deliriously in love. Drew was Julie’s son-in-law. Thanks to the Healing Heroes cottage, Drew and Ria, Julie’s daughter, had reunited. They and their two teenage daughters now seemed like a happy family.

  Mary was pleased with the Healing Heroes program. She was doing valuable work with her wealth, but it wasn’t enough. The cottage could only accommodate one resident at a time, which limited the scope of the program. She had the time and energy to do more. “I’m thinking of expanding Healing Heroes,” she said.

  “More police? There’s a need,” Julie said. “Although it can be hard to find officers who are able to pick up and move here for three months.”

  “Yes, and that’s why I don’t want to just build more of the same.” Mary had been pondering things, thinking about the past, really, and how to continue making amends. “I’m thinking of doing something for victims of violent crime, their families.”

  Julie’s head tilted to one side, her eyes steady on Mary. “Why that? I mean, it’s obviously a worthy cause, but...what’s your interest?”

  And that was exactly why she had to tread carefully. She didn’t want Julie, or the other two or three people who knew about her charitable endeavors, to start asking questions. No one had been more shocked than Mary when her abusive first husband had left all of his money to her. Combined with what her second husband had left, it was too much, undeserved, a burden. “I was just watching a documentary about crime victims,” she said. Which wasn’t a lie.

  “If you’re still in the exploring stage,” Julie said, “the town really needs a library.”

  “That’s true.” Mary adored libraries, even though they were a sort of competition for bookstores. “I mean, there’s a library up the coast, but that’s not the same as having one right here in town.” She sat down in one of the comfortable chairs lining the wall and propped her elbows on her knees. She’d love to do something so in line with her interests as a library. Books had been her friends for so many years.