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His Winter Rose
Lois Richer


After many happy summers in the peaceful town of Serenity Bay, Piper Langley had returned to help revitalize the sleepy village. Trouble was, Piper and her new boss didn't see eye-to-eye. Mayor Jason Franklin had the good looks and the take-charge attitude to earn him the town's respect, but not Piper's. To help the place they both adored, they had to find a way to work together.While his faith in God was strong, it would take an even stronger love to thaw the ice around Piper's jaded heart. Thankfully, Jason knew he was the perfect man for the job.









“Ahoy, there.”


Jason watched as the sailboat’s captain stepped onto the dock. He caught a glimpse of a face, and realized the sailor was a woman. A woman he knew.

Piper strode toward him. “Good morning, Mayor.”

He couldn’t help but stare at her dark hair. He’d dreamed about that hair. He swallowed, rejecting the flash of interest that prickled whenever he talked to her.

“You’ll need a car, Miss Langley. Serenity Bay’s public transportation isn’t up to big city standards.”

“Please call me Piper,” she said. “I’m familiar with the need for wheels around here. I lived in Serenity Bay years ago. They were some of the best times of my life.”

Then she smiled and it was a glorious thing. Her gaze held his. A zing of awareness shot between them.

“That explains your enthusiasm for this place, then,” he said. “So what do you have planned for Serenity Bay, Miss Langley?”

“You’re the boss. Shouldn’t you be telling me, Mr. Franklin?”




LOIS RICHER


Sneaking a flashlight under the blankets, hiding in a thicket of Caragana bushes where no one could see, pushing books into socks to take to camp—those are just some of the things Lois Richer freely admits to in her pursuit of the written word. “I’m a book-a-holic. I can’t do without stories,” she confesses. “It’s always been that way.”

Her love of language evolved into writing her own stories. Today her passion is to create tales of personal struggle that lead to triumph over life’s rocky road. For Lois, a happy ending is essential. “In my stories, as in my own life, God has a way of making all things beautiful. Writing a love story is my way of reinforcing my faith in His ultimate goodness toward us—His precious children.”




His Winter Rose


Lois Richer







So whenever you speak, or whatever you do, remember that you will be judged by the law of love, the law that set you free. For there will be no mercy for you if you have not been merciful to others. But if you have been merciful, then God’s mercy toward you will win out over his judgment against you.

—James 2:12-13


This book is for Judy, Ken and the kids.

Thanks for introducing me to cottage country.




Contents


Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Letter to Reader

Questions for Discussion




Prologue


“Ms. Langley? Piper Langley?”

“Yes.”

Maybe it was the suit that took his breath away—a tailored red power suit that fit her like a glove. But he didn’t think of power when he looked at her. He thought of long-stemmed red roses—the kind a man chooses to give his love.

Maybe it was the way she so regally rose from the chair in Serenity Bay’s town office and stepped forward to grasp his hand firmly. Or it could have been her hair—a curling, glossy mane that cascaded down her back like a river of dark chocolate.

His sudden lack of oxygen wasn’t helped by the megawatt smile that tilted her lips, lit up her chocolate-brown eyes and begged him to trust her.

From somewhere inside him a warning voice reminded, “Trust has to be earned.” Immediately he recalled a verse he’d read this morning: Commit everything you do to the Lord. Trust Him to help you and He will.

“I’m Piper.” Her words, firm, businesslike, drew him back to reality.

“Jason Franklin,” he stated. “Would you like to come through to the boardroom?”

“Certainly.” She followed him, her high heels clicking on the tile floor in a rhythmic pattern that bespoke her confidence.

Inside, Jason introduced the town’s councillors, and waited till she was seated. Only then did he take his place at the table and pick up her résumé. It was good. Too good.

“Your credentials speak very well for you, Ms. Langley.”

“Thank you.”

He hadn’t been paying her a compliment, simply telling the truth. She was overqualified for a little town like Serenity Bay, a place in Ontario’s northern cottage country.

“I don’t think we have any questions about your skills or your ability to achieve results.” He glanced at the other board members for confirmation and realized all eyes were focused on the small, delicate woman seated at the end of the table.

Piper Langley had done nothing and yet they all seemed captivated by her. Himself included.

Careful! his brain warned.

“I’m happy to answer anything you wish to ask, Mr. Franklin.” She picked an invisible bit of lint from her skirt, folded her hands in her lap and waited. When no one spoke, she chuckled, breaking the silence. “I’m sure you didn’t ask me here just to look at me.”

So she knew she drew attention. Was that good or bad?

“No, we didn’t.” He closed the folder filled with her accomplishments, set it aside. “It’s obvious you have what we’re looking for, but I can’t help wondering–why do you want to leave Calgary? Especially now, after you’ve worked so hard to build your reputation, finally achieved the success you’ve earned? Why leave all that to work in Serenity Bay?”

She didn’t move a muscle. Her smile didn’t flicker. But something changed. If he had to put a name to it, Jason would have said Piper-the-rose grew prickly thorns.

“Several reasons, actually. As you noted, I’ve been working in the corporate world for some time now. I’m interested in a change.”

That he understood. He’d come here to seek his own change.

“I was intrigued when I heard about your plans for Serenity Bay. The town has always been a tourist spot for summer vacationers.”

“Lately the year-round population has been in decline,” he admitted.

“Yes.” Her gaze narrowed a fraction. “If I understood your ad correctly, you’re hoping to change that.” She glanced around the table, meeting every interested stare. “I’d like very much to be a part of that progress.”

Nice, but not really an answer to his question.

Why here? Why now?

Jason leaned back in his chair and began to dig for what he really wanted to know.

“How do you view this town, Ms. Langley?”

“Please call me Piper.” She, too, leaned back, but her stare never wavered from his. “I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, but to me Serenity Bay looks like a tired old lady much in need of a makeover. The assets are certainly here, but they’re covered by years of wear and tear. I’d like to see her restored to a vibrant woman embracing life with open arms. I have some ideas as to how we might go about that.”

Piper elaborated with confidence. Clearly she’d done her research, weighed every option and planned an all-out assault on the problems besieging the Bay. But she didn’t stop there. She offered a plethora of possibilities Jason hadn’t even considered. Two minutes into her speech she had the board eating out of her perfectly manicured hand. None of the other candidates had been so generous in sharing their ideas.

Jason was left to find a hole in her carefully prepared responses.

“You’re used to large budgets, Ms. Langley. You won’t have that here.”

Her brown eyes sparked, her perfectly tinted lips pinched together as she leaned forward. So Miss Perfect had a temper. He found that oddly reassuring.

“Money isn’t always the answer, Mr. Franklin.” Her fingers splayed across the shiny tabletop, her voice deepened into a firmness that emphasized the sense of power that red suit radiated. “Yes, it will take some cash to initiate change. It will also require hard work, forward thinking, a vision that reaches beyond the usual means to something new, untried. There will be failures, but there will also be successes.”

“I agree.”

She stared at him hard, her focus unrelenting, searching. Then she nodded, just once.

“It will also take commitment. By you, your board, the community. No town gains a reputation for great tourism through one person’s actions. It takes everyone committing to a common goal and pushing toward it—no matter what. It takes teamwork.”

Jason hoped his face remained an expressionless mask, but his heart beat a hundred miles an hour. Of everything she’d said, that one word had made up his mind.

Teamwork.

It was what he’d been cheated of before.

It was the one thing he’d demand from the town’s newest employee.

“Unless anyone has another question, or you have something more to say, Ms. Langley, I believe we’re finished. Thank you for making the trip.” He rose, surprised to see more than an hour had passed. “We will notify you of our decision by next week.”

“It’s been my pleasure.” She worked her way around the table, shaking hands, flashing that movie-star smile. “Regardless of whom you chose as your new economic development officer, I wish you much success in your endeavor. I look forward to coming back in the summer to see the changes you’ve wrought.”

Jason ushered her out of the room, back into the reception area.

“Thank you again,” he said, holding out his hand toward her. “You’ve obviously put a lot of thought into how you’d do the job, Ms. Langley. We appreciate your interest.”

“It’s Piper,” she murmured, shaking his hand. “And the pleasure was all mine. It’s been good to see the town again.” She picked up a long, white cashmere coat and before he could help she’d wrapped it around herself, fastened the two pearl buttons in front.

A winter rose.

He got stuck on that thought, gazing at her ivory face rising out of the petal-soft cashmere.

“Mr. Franklin.”

“It’s Jason,” he told her automatically.

“Very well, Jason.” She inclined her head, flicked the sheath of sable-toned hair over one shoulder, shook his hand in finality. “Thank you for the opportunity. Goodbye.” Then she turned toward the door.

Jason kept watch as she strode to her car, a grey importrental. He waited until she’d climbed inside, until the quiet motor glided away from the town office.

She was wrong about one thing.

It wasn’t goodbye. He knew that for sure.




Chapter One


“A toast to each of us for thirty great years.”

Piper pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head, protection not only against the March sun’s watery rays, but against the reflected glare of those highest peaks surrounding the bay where traces of winter snow still clung to the crags and dips.

She held her steaming mug of tea aloft, waiting to clink it against those of her two friends in a tradition they’d kept alive since ninth grade.

“Happy birthday, ladies. May we each find the dreams of our heart before the next thirty years pass.”

Rowena Davis drank to the toast, but her patrician nose wiggled with distaste at the mint tea. Rowena was a coffee girl, the stronger the better. She quickly set down her mug before studying the other two.

“We’ll hardly find any dreams here in the Bay,” she complained with a motion toward the thick evergreen forest. Her dubious tone mirrored the sour look marring her lovely face.

“Don’t be a grump, Row.” After a grin at Piper, Ashley Adams sipped her tea, savoring the flavor thoughtfully. Ash always took her time.

“A grump? Wake up, woman.” Rowena shook her head. “I can’t imagine why on earth you’ve moved back here, Piper. Serenity Bay isn’t exactly a hot spot for someone with your qualifications.”

In unison they scanned the untouched forest beyond the deck, its verdant lushness broken only by jutting granite monoliths dotted here and there across the landscape. Beyond that, the bay rippled, intensely blue in the sunshine with white bands of uninhabited beach banding its coastline.

“Maybe Serenity Bay’s not a hot spot, but it is calm and peaceful. And she can sail whenever she wants.” Ash turned over to lie on her tummy on the lounger and peered between the deck rails, down and out across the water.

“True.” Rowena laid back, closed her eyes.

“Peace and quiet are big pluses in my books these days. I may just come and visit you this summer, Pip.”

The old nickname had never died despite years of protest. Strangely enough, Piper liked it now; it reminded her that they cared about her, that she wasn’t all alone.

“You’d leave the big city, Ash?” Piper struggled to hide her smile. It was impossible for her to imagine her friend ignoring the lure of the galleries and new artists’ showings she adored for more than a weekend.

“Yep. For a while, anyway.” Ashley’s golden hair swung about her shoulders as she absorbed the panoramic view. “I’d forgotten how lovely it is here. No haze of pollution, no traffic snarls. Just God’s glorious creation. This invitation to join you and Row for our annual weekend birthday bash has reminded me of all the things I give up to live in my condo in Vancouver. Especially after soaking in your posh hot tub last night! The stars were spectacular.”

“Total privacy is a change, too.” Rowena sighed as the sun draped her with its warmth. “You know, Pip, Cathcart House could bring in millions if you turned it into a spa.”

“It already is one,” Ashley joked. “Welcome to Piper’s own private chichi retreat. Which I’ll happily share whenever she asks.”

“Anytime.” Piper chuckled. “I recall you were always partial to my grandparents’ home, Ash.”

“No kidding.” Rowena snorted. “I think she spent more time on their dock than in her own backyard those summers on the Bay.”

“My grandparents never minded. They loved to see you both.” The pain of their deaths still squeezed Piper’s heart, though time was easing the sting of loss. It helped to recall happier times. “Remember the year Papa bought the sailboat?”

“Yes. I also remember how many times we got dunked before we figured out how to sail it.” Rowena’s face puckered up. “The bay never gets warm.”

“But didn’t it feel good to whiz past the beach and know the summer kids were envying us? We wowed ’em that year.” Ashley leaned over, laid a hand on Rowena’s shoulder. “In retrospect, they weren’t all bad times, Row.”

“No, they weren’t.” After a long silence, Rowena managed to summon what, for her, passed as a smile. “I had you two to go with me to school. That meant a lot.”

Rowena tossed back her auburn hair as if shaking off the bad memories, then took another tentative sip of tea.

“Now tell us, Pip. What exactly are you doing back here? Besides hosting our birthday bash, I mean.”

Piper leaned back, her gaze on the bay below.

“I’ve accepted a position as economic development officer to organize Serenity Bay’s tourism authority,” she told them.

Stark silence greeted her announcement.

“Economic development?”

“Did she actually say that?”

Rowena looked at Ashley and both burst into giggles.

“What development? The place looks smaller now than when we used to live here. A few cottagers, some artists, a defunct lumber mill. What’s to develop?”

Just as she had when she was fourteen and frustrated by their inability to see what was so clear to her, Piper clenched her jaw and grumbled, “You have no vision, Philistines.”

“Oh, boy, that takes me back.” Ashley laughed out loud. “Okay, David. Tell us how you’re going to conquer your next Goliath.”

Piper took her time, gathering her black hair into a knot and pinning it to the top of her head while making them wait. It was an old trick and it always worked. Their interest had been piqued.

“Spill it, Pip.” Ashley wasn’t kidding now.

She took a deep breath and began.

“It may interest you to know that Serenity Bay has a new, very forward-thinking mayor.”

“Oh?”

Now they were curious. Good.

“He has plans that include making our lovely bay into a tourist mecca. And why not? We’re sitting smack-dab in the middle of the most gorgeous country God ever created. All we have to do is tell the rest of the world about it.”

Utter shock greeted her words. Piper knew the silence wouldn’t last long. She leaned back, closed her eyes, and waited.

“You’re kidding. Aren’t you?” Uncertainty laced Ashley’s whisper.

“She’s not.” The unflappable Rowena was less surprised. “Our Pip has always had a soft spot for this place. Except—”

Piper didn’t like the sound of that. She opened her eyes. Sure enough, Rowena’s intense scrutiny was centered on her. Faking a bland smile, Piper watched her hazel eyes change shades as quickly as her friend’s thoughts. It wouldn’t take Row long to home in on what she hadn’t said.

“This new mayor you’re going to be working for—”

“Aha.” Ash leaned forward like a cat waiting to pounce.

“Tell us, Pip. What exactly is he like?” Rowena tapped one perfectly manicured fingertip against her cheek, eyes narrowed, intense.

Piper couldn’t stop her blush as a picture of Jason Franklin, tousled and exceedingly handsome, swam into her brain. A most intriguing man.

To hide her thoughts she slipped on her sunglasses.

“What’s he like?”

“Don’t repeat the question. Answer it.”

“I’m trying.” Piper swallowed. “I don’t know—like a mayor, I guess. He owns the marina.”

“Short, fat, balding fellow, happily married with six kids?”

“Grease under his fingertips?” Ashley added.

“N-no. Not exactly.”

“How ‘not exactly,’ Pip?” The old Row was back in form, and she was enjoying herself. She held up her fingers and began ticking them off. “No grease?”

“Uh-uh.”

“Not short?”

“No.”

“Not fat?”

Piper shook her head. That definitely didn’t apply. Jason was lean, muscular and more toned than the men she knew who regularly worked out in expensive gyms.

“Balding? Six kids? Married?”

Flustered by the incessant questions about a man she hadn’t been able to get out of her thoughts, Piper decided to spare herself the onslaught of questions and explain.

“He’s—I don’t know! Our age, I suppose. A little older, maybe. Tall. Sandy blond hair. Blue eyes. Good-looking.”

Ashley and Rowena exchanged a look.

“Ah. So he’s a beach boy.”

“Beach boy? No. He owns the marina.” Piper decided to change tactics. “I didn’t really notice that much about him. He’s just the mayor.”

“Didn’t notice much. Uh-huh.” Rowena sniffed, checked with Ashley. “Thoughts?”

“‘The lady doth protest too much, methinks,’” the blonde quoted.

“Methinks that, too.”

“Look,” Piper sputtered, regretting her choice of words. “It’s not—”

“Maybe he’s why she came back.” Ashley frowned. “Either that or—” Her forehead pleated in a delicate frown. She focused on Piper. “Or there’s another reason you’re here.”

They knew her too well.

“Is it your father? Is that why you left Calgary?”

Might as well admit it.

“Indirectly.”

Both women sighed, their glances conveying their sympathy before Rowena deliberately shut down all expression. She had good reason to remember the past and even more to forget it.

“I knew it wouldn’t be a young, eligible male that brought you back here.” Ashley’s eyes flashed with anger. “It has to be your old man at the bottom of this sudden change. How typical.”

“What has the great Baron D. Wainwright done now?”

Piper didn’t blame Rowena for the spite in her tone. Row and Ash had been there for her ever since that first summer when her angry father had repeatedly ordered her back to the house where her mother had died. When she’d refused to return to a world she hated, a world where he’d become so demanding, so strict, so unlike the loving mother who’d shielded her, these two had consoled her.

Her father’s angry denunciation of her still stung today, even after so many years. And then of course there was the other.

Piper pushed that away.

“Pip? Please tell us what’s wrong.”

They’d always listened. She could trust them.

“It’s not what he’s done, it’s what I think he’s going to do. The company’s conducted some research on the Bay’s waterfront. Past experience tells me he intends to build one of his mega hotels right on the shores of Serenity Bay.”

“Oh, no.” Ashley couldn’t hide her dismay. “Pavement, parking lots, bars open all night? It’ll ruin the place.”

“Like Baron cares about the ambience of Serenity Bay.” Rowena sniffed. “I’d guess he’s well aware of your mayor’s plans and is trying to one-up him before you can get this tourism thing organized.”

Piper nodded. “My thoughts exactly.”

“So your mayor isn’t the only one who’s seen the potential of the area.” Rowena’s brows drew together. “I wonder who else is involved?”

“Jason’s not my anything,” Piper insisted as heat, which had nothing to do with the sun’s rays, scorched her cheeks. “I don’t think either he or the other council members know about the hotel. Not yet. That’s not the way Wainwright Inc. works.” She paused, then copied her father’s brusque tones. “First buy up the land, then dazzle the locals with lots of promises. If that doesn’t get you what you want, initiate a lawsuit.”

Piper pushed her chair back into the upright position, picked up the plate with her slice of birthday cake on it and took a bite. “But that’s not the only reason I decided to move back.”

Ash and Row stared at her.

“Dare we ask?”

“I needed to come home. The house, these cliffs, the meadow—I spent some of my happiest times here.”

They nodded, each transported back to carefree summer days when life’s decisions were so much simpler. Ash, Row and Piper had walked every inch of this land many times, consoling each other through puppy love, acne and a host of other trials. No matter where they went, they always came back.

“I’m tired of the nonstop meetings, of cutthroat marketers trying to outdo each other to get another star on their A-list. I guess I’m tired of the rat race. None of it seems to matter much anymore.”

“And this will?”

“I think so.” Piper saw the concern in their eyes and knew they were only pushing because they cared. “I have such precious memories of this place, of my grandparents and you guys, of coming home at Christmas, watching fireworks displays from Lookout Point. I want other kids to have that.”

“The past always looks rosy in hindsight,” Rowena muttered. “Except for mine, that is.”

Ashley patted her shoulder but kept her focus on Piper. “Serenity Bay may have changed,” she warned.

“Trust me, it has.” Piper turned her chair so she could look across the water toward the town. “I did a little research. There’s barely anyone left that we know. After the lumber mill shut down I guess folks had to move away to find work. There are more than a hundred cottages for sale.”

“A hundred?”

Both wore the same stunned expression she’d had the day she’d driven around the town.

“More than. I’m sure lots of people come back in the summer but the number of permanent residents is sinking fast. I’m guessing that’s why the mayor thinks the town has to act now, before it’s too late.”

“Back to the mayor.” Row and Ash exchanged looks, then watched her, waiting.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Are you sure this mayor didn’t have anything to do with your decision to move back?”

“No.” Piper sighed, recognizing the futility of trying to withhold anything. “I’ve actually been considering it for a while. After Vance died I poured myself into work. I didn’t want to think about God taking my husband—or anything else.”

“And work hasn’t been enough?” Ashley asked softly.

“For a while I thought it was. But this birthday has me thinking, I’m not getting any younger.”

“Neither are we. But we’re not closing up shop and moving back here.” Rowena’s voice sounded harsh, but her eyes brimmed with pity. “Have you been so unhappy?”

“That’s not the right word, Row. I’ve been rudderless, without any real goal. Serenity Bay is offering me a chance to stretch, to think outside the box. I need that challenge.”

“Need?”

Piper nodded.

“Need. I want the Bay to prosper, to grow, to provide years of fun and joy for other kids, for other families—just as it did for us.” She waved a hand. “This is where I want to spend my days, maybe someday raise my kids. I might even get back into Papa’s gold studio during the long, frosty winter nights, see if I can create again.”

“You always did have a flair for the unusual,” Rowena said. “People still stop me to ask where I got this.” She fingered the four-inch gold mask brooch she wore on her lapel.

“If it doesn’t work out or I get tired of the solitude, I can always go back to the city. But moving here, this job—I have to try.”

“Cathcart House is the perfect place to do it.”

They sat together, each musing over the changes that had come into their lives.

“I keep expecting your grandmother to bring out a jug of hot chocolate and tell us to button up.” Ashley sipped her tea, a half smile curving her lips.

“Last night I thought I heard your grandfather’s snores.” Rowena shrugged at their surprise. “What? Even I have normal dreams sometimes.”

“They left Cathcart House entirely to you, Pip? You don’t have to share it with your brother or anything?”

“They left Dylan cash. He never seemed to like the Bay, remember?” Piper shrugged. “I never understood that but he seemed happy enough with his share when I talked to him after their wills were read.”

“Was your father at the funeral?”

“No.” Piper swallowed hard. “At least, I didn’t see him.”

“It would be a bit much to expect him to show sorrow, wouldn’t it? As I recall there was no love lost between your grandparents and him.” Rowena tossed the rest of the tea over the side of the deck. “Though I must admit, I never heard them say a word against him.”

“Gran always said God would handle him so she didn’t have to worry.”

The three remained silent for a few moments in sober remembrance.

“So you’re not too concerned about your father or his plans?” Ashley asked, her forehead pleated in a tiny furrow.

Concerned, worried and a whole lot more. But Piper wouldn’t say that or these two friends would fuss about her. She didn’t want that.

“I want to be here to help with development if I can. That beach is glorious. There’s no way I’m going to sit back and watch a Wainwright hotel ruin it.”

“You’re sure that’s his plan?”

Piper nodded. “One of them.”

“And if he sways the council to his way of thinking? What will you do then?” Ashley pressed, her face expressing her concern.

“Pray.” Like praying had saved Vance’s life. Piper pushed down the anger. God’s will, not mine, she reminded herself.

“Changing Baron Wainwright would take an act of God, all right.” Rowena snorted. “Other people’s plans have never mattered to him. Did you hear about that Wainwright project in London? There are rumors that officials received bribes to pass some inspections.”

“I hadn’t heard.” Piper sloughed off her gloomy feelings, determined that nothing would spoil her joy in having her friends visit. “Anyway, I’m going to do what I can here. This job means I’ll be kept abreast of everything that goes on in Serenity Bay so, hopefully, I’ll be one step ahead.”

“Ever the optimist, that’s our Pip.”

“It’s not optimism, Row. It’s determination.” She narrowed her gaze trying to make them understand. “I want to prove something and this is the perfect place.”

“You don’t have to prove anything to us, honey.” Ashley rose, moved to fling her arms around Piper. “We already know you can do anything you set your mind on.”

“Thank you.” She hugged Ash right back. “But I have to prove it to myself, here, in this place. I didn’t come back to see my grandparents as often as I should have when they were here. Maybe I can keep their dreams for Cathcart House and the Bay alive.”

“Do it for yourself, Piper. Don’t do it to prove something to your father,” Row warned. “We all know he’s not worth the effort, not after his behavior toward Vance. Just know that if this is what you want, we’re behind you all the way.”

“She’s right. The Bayside Trio takes on tough challenges and rides ’em out no matter what. We’re fearless females just waiting to vanquish our foes.” Ashley thrust her arm above her head in the charge they’d chanted since grade nine. “Onward and upward!”

“Onward and upward,” Piper and Row repeated, grinning as if they were fifteen again and the world was just waiting for them.

“Here’s to your thirty-first year, Pip. You go, girl.”

Rowena dumped a splash of the hated tea into her cup and the three friends held up their mugs in a toast. Their admiration went a long way toward reassuring Piper that she’d made the right decision. She drank to her own success, giggled at Rowena’s jokes and answered Ashley’s questions as best she could.

But that night, after the party was over and her friends had left to return to their own lives, Piper lay alone in the big house and let her thoughts tumble into free fall. It was time to face the truth.

She’d told Ashley and Rowena that she wanted to help the Bay grow, and that was true. But more than that, she wanted to stop her father from ruining the one place she called home. And he would ruin it. He ruined everything he touched. Her childhood, her relationship with her brother. Every summer that she’d returned here from boarding school he’d arrived to make a scene about her coming back to live with him. She’d gone back twice—and regretted both. She’d even tried to work with him once. He’d ruined that, too, treating her like a stupid child. So she’d left Wainwright Inc., built a name for herself.

And even after that she’d given him one more chance, a chance to make the difference between life and death, a chance to prove he loved her. He’d blown her off, refused to help.

Well, he would not ruin Serenity Bay. There would be none of the gaudy neon lights his hotels boasted, no famous rock bands blaring till four in the morning and leaving mayhem behind, nobody wandering the streets at all hours, causing a disturbance. Not here. Not while she could stop it.

Curious sounds so different from the city noise she was accustomed to carried down the cliff’s side on a light breeze that fluttered the bedroom curtains.

Piper got up for a glass of water, and noticed someone moving across her property toward the peak of the cliff. At a certain point he or she stopped, removed something from a backpack and knelt down. A second later the figure had disappeared.

Lookout Point had always been a place where teens met for a good-night kiss. That’s probably who was out there now.

She stood watching for a moment, her thoughts drifting to the mayor and the many plans he had for the direction the town should take. She’d never had a problem working with anyone before, but something about the way Jason Franklin had watched her respond to the council’s questions made her wonder if he was as confident of her abilities as he’d said.

In her past jobs she’d been given a mandate and left to accomplish it, filing the paperwork, making her reports at the appropriate stages. But primarily she’d been her own boss. A tiny voice in the back of her head told her this job wouldn’t be like that. Mayor Franklin had an agenda. He wanted the Bay to start growing and he wanted it to happen his way. From what he’d said, Piper was fairly certain he wanted it to happen yesterday. It might be hard to appease him when developers didn’t immediately respond to her initial probes.

She smothered a yawn and padded back to bed.

Whatever happened, happened. She’d deal with it.

Maybe in doing her job she could coax Jason’s diamond-blue eyes to come alive, maybe get him to loosen up a little. Piper had a hunch that somewhere under all that grit and determination, a guy with a sense of humor lurked.

Maybe the girls were right. Maybe Jason Franklin would turn out to be more than the mayor.

Maybe she could finally come to terms with why God had taken away the only people who’d loved her and left her with a father who couldn’t see beyond his money to the daughter who wanted to be loved.




Chapter Two


When he’d handed in his resignation in Boston, he’d been told he wouldn’t last a year in the sticks.

A lot they knew.

Not only had he endured, he was thriving.

Jason swallowed the last of his morning coffee, certain he’d never tire of this view. He had no desire to go back. Not to traitors….

Don’t think about it.

He jerked to his feet. In his haste to escape what he couldn’t forget, he almost crashed the foot of his chair into the Plexiglas panel surrounding the deck.

“Calm down,” he ordered his racing pulse. “Just calm down. Forget the past. Let it die.”

Easier said than done.

Originally he’d thought living on top of his marina store was the kind of kooky idea one of his former high-flying clients might have come up with. But after two years in Serenity Bay, he still relished his perch high above the water.

His neighbor to the left was an age-old forest whose trees sheltered him from the wind. On the right, Jason shared the view with the docks and a public beach.

Nobody watched him, and he only watched the water. A little lonely, perhaps. But then again, he’d come to Serenity Bay for the solitude. At least that’s what he told himself.

Today the sun shone, the water sparkled and sent the wind skimming over the land in a faint caress. Serenity Bay looked picture-perfect.

He squinted across the lake. That early sailor with two sheets billowing in the wind was bolder than most. The fun seekers he’d once hung around with wouldn’t have endured more than five minutes of this cool April breeze blowing off the barely thawed lake before they’d turn back.

But this sailor didn’t hesitate. The craft continued on a clear, invisible course directed by sure and steady hands, straight toward Jason. The streamlined hull pointed into the wind with gutsy determination. He liked the brashness of it—thrusting ahead on an unswerving course to get where you were going, no matter what.

That’s what he was doing.

Fresh air, pure sunshine and a landscape only the Creator could have fashioned was about all anyone could ask.

Just about.

“Lucky guy.” He wasted several minutes watching the pristine sailboat flit across the water like a butterfly set free from the cocoon of winter. Then he decided it was time to get to work.

He balanced his last cinnamon bun and a thermos of coffee in one hand, pulled the door closed with the other and descended the circular stairs into his office, unable to resist a glance through the wall of windows that overlooked the lake.

The sailboat was making good time. Obviously whoever was operating her knew exactly what he was doing.

At the height of summer when the days were heavy with heat and the promise of cool lake water beckoned, Jason often envied the freedom and peace a sailboat offered. But he freely admitted his knowledge lay in engines, the kind that sent speedboats tearing across the lakes, towing skiers or tube riders through the water. Or the kind that powered fishing boats and let them troll at a leisurely pace. Engines he understood. He could talk motors with the best of them.

But sailing? You needed money for beauties like that sailboat, and men who built marinas in small lake towns that development hadn’t yet reached seldom found cash to spare.

A noise drew his attention to the dock and he stepped outside.

“Hey, Andy. Did you get those rentals all cleaned up?”

“Yes, sir.” Andy saluted him, then grinned. “You find the customers, I’ve got the boats spick-and-span.”

The kid looked like a double for an actor on Gilligan’s Island. That effect was enhanced by a kooky sailor cap Andy loved, but which always slipped to one side of his shiny head.

“Ready to roll, boss. I also swabbed the decks, checked the minnow stock and measured the gas tank. We’re good to go on all counts. Now I’ll get at that painting.”

“Good job.” The boy was an employer’s dream. He took pride in accomplishing his duties before being asked.

Andy reminded Jason of himself, long ago, before he’d learned that fresh-faced eagerness wasn’t necessarily an asset in the corporate world.

“You see that?” Andy’s gaze was also on the trim red craft and the pristine sails. “She’s a beauty, isn’t she?”

The sharp bow cut cleanly through the crest of waves, zooming ever closer, sails puffed out smooth. As they watched, the boat tacked left, turning in a perfect half circle as it headed into the harbor, straight toward them.

“I hope he knows how to bring her in. It’ll cost a fortune if I have to get those docks redone.”

Andy grinned, shaking his head.

“Don’t worry, boss. The way that beauty’s moving, there’s no novice at the helm. Man, I’d love a chance to go out in her.”

Who wouldn’t? Jason pretended to busy himself, but he kept close watch as the sailor trimmed his sails perfectly and the delicate red hull slipped easily into dock. He turned away, refusing to let the owner of such magnificence witness his jealousy. Someday, when he retired, maybe he’d get a boat like that.

Someday.

“Ahoy, there. Mind tying me off?”

That voice was familiar. Jason twisted around, watched Andy snatch the line tossed at him and fasten stem and stern so that the sailboat was perfectly docked against Styrofoam buoys that would keep its hull mar free. Golden letters in a delicate font shone from the bow. Shalimar.

The sailboat’s captain accepted Andy’s hand and stepped onto the dock. Once the thick coat was unzipped and he caught a glimpse of her face, Jason realized the sailor was a woman.

Piper Langley.

She tossed her coat inside the hull, then drew the red knitted cap she was wearing from her head and flipped it into the boat, allowing her glossy black curls to dance in the breeze.

“Thank you, kind sir.” She curtsied to Andy, then strode toward Jason. “Good morning, Mayor.”

“Good morning.”

He couldn’t help but stare at her bouncy haircut. It had been a long mane of ebony when they’d first met. He’d dreamed about that hair. He couldn’t decide which style he preferred.

Her ice-blue shirt and matching slacks managed to look both businesslike and chic. The wool jacket added to her polished look, though her eyes weren’t businesslike at all. He swallowed, rejecting the flash of interest that prickled whenever he talked to her.

“I didn’t realize—that is, er…” He hesitated. “You’ll need a car, Miss Langley. The area is large and our public transportation isn’t up to big-city standards.”

She frowned, obviously trying to decipher his curt tone.

“Please call me Piper,” she begged. “I don’t get to sail very often so I thought this would be the perfect way to commute across the lake. I left my car here.” Her gaze brushed over the boat in obvious fondness, then she focused on him and the brown eyes darkened to almost black.

“I paid for the berth. Yesterday.”

Andy hadn’t told him. Jason wished he could time-warp back about an hour and do this all over again. Though it was a little late to explain, he gave it his best shot.

“I wasn’t implying anything. I just wanted to be sure you knew you’d need a car.” Idiot! How old was he that her appearance could knock him for a loop?

“I don’t know whether or not I explained to you when we talked before, Mr. Franklin, but years ago I lived in Serenity Bay. I’m familiar with the need for wheels around here.”

She smiled and it was a glorious thing. Her skin glowed, her eyes shone and her curls danced in the breeze. She was more beautiful than he remembered.

“No, I don’t believe you mentioned that.” Otherwise, I wouldn’t have made an idiot of myself talking about public transportation.

Her gaze held his. A zap of awareness shot between them.

“Well, I did. Six summers, actually.”

“Really?”

“They were some of the best times of my life.”

Which meant—what? That she was here to recapture the past? That her life had taken a downturn and she’d returned to start over?

“That explains your enthusiasm for this place then.” And her knowledge of the economic possibilities in the area.

“I guess.” She continued to watch him, her scrutiny unflinching.

“What do you have planned, Miss Langley?”

“You’re the boss. Shouldn’t you be telling me, Mr. Franklin?” Heavy emphasis on the Mr.

“Actually I didn’t think you would start till Monday.”

“Why wait?”

She stood tall and proud, head tipped back, face impassive as her glance clashed with his. She shifted as if she were eager to get on with things.

Something was tapping. Jason looked down, noticed that her blue shoes matched the blue of her suit perfectly, and that the toe of one was rapping impatiently against the dock.

During his Boston years, Jason had known a lot of women. But he’d never met one who couldn’t stand still for even a few minutes. Piper Langley pulsed with leashed energy.

She cleared her throat. “Mr. Franklin?”

“I prefer Jason. We’re informal around here. Okay, Piper?” He smiled, showing there were no hard feelings. “Now perhaps—”

“Wait a minute. Jason. Jason Franklin. Man, I’m slow.” The whispered words slipped through her lips on a breath of recognition.

He froze.

“There was a rather well-known Jason Franklin who gained the reputation of finding fantastic recreation property that developers could evolve into spectacular tourism centers. He worked for a company called Expectations in Boston.” She paused, searching his face while she waited for his response.

“Guilty,” he admitted, heart sinking. “But that was in the past. Now I’m my own boss.” And I like it that way, so don’t ask any more questions.

“Of course.” She nodded, obviously receiving his message loud and clear.

Immediately Jason wondered exactly what she’d heard, and from whom.

“It’s a wonderful marina,” she murmured. “We never had anything like this when I was here.”

“Thank you. I’ve enjoyed putting it together.”

Then in the blink of an eye, Piper Langley became all business.

“I’ve done some preliminary work since you offered me the job of economic development officer. I hope that’s all right?” One finely arched eyebrow quirked up, daring him to say it wasn’t.

“Great.”

“Nothing too risky, but I thought one way to begin getting Serenity Bay on the map might be to initiate a fishing tournament, with a rather large prize. I realize it’s only the first of April, but these things take a while to publicize and we don’t want to miss the season.” She glanced around, took in the lack of customers. “Do you have time to discuss some of my plans now?”

As mayor, he’d made her the offer on behalf of the town council, agreeing to hold the position until she was released from her current job. Her eagerness to get started was a far better beginning than Jason had dared expect.

He’d known she was the right one at their first meeting. Looked as though he was about to be proved correct.

“Now’s a bad time?” The toe was tapping again.

Jason considered his schedule. Saturday. There would be very few people looking for a boat to rent this early in the season. Maybe a couple of guys would drop in looking for new rods and reels, but the majority of the cottagers hadn’t opened up their summer homes yet and those year-round residents who weren’t enjoying the sunshine were more likely to be planting what little garden they could, rather than visiting his marina.

“Now is good,” he agreed. “Why don’t you come inside, into my office? I’ve got some coffee already made.”

“Great.” She followed him. “Thank you.”

Early on in life Jason had learned that tidiness was an asset with inestimable value. Today it proved its worth, especially when he found himself oddly confused by her presence in his personal space.

“Great office.”

“Yes, it is.” Jason checked for sarcasm but her appreciation seemed genuine. He castigated himself for suspecting her motives. Not everybody was insincere.

“I chose this side of the building specifically because of the natural woodlands next door. I don’t have to worry about neighbors building over my view, or at least I hope I won’t. The council hasn’t approved the zoning yet.”

“From here you can see across the entire store and down the marina.” Piper trailed one finger over the metal filing cabinets that bordered his office, but did not obstruct his view. “Smart man. Do you live upstairs?”

“Yes.” Why the sudden curiosity?

“It must be a dream to wake up to this view every morning.”

“You wake up to the same thing, don’t you?” He nodded toward the lake.

Her eyes widened in surprise. “Yes, I guess I do.” She chuckled. “I keep forgetting that I’m here for good. Which reminds me—do you know what’s happening up on Lookout Point? I went walking yesterday and noticed someone’s been doing some digging.”

“I have no idea. A telecommunications company has a tower near there, don’t they? Maybe it’s something to do with that. We’ve been begging them to install a higher tower to improve cell phone coverage.”

“Maybe that’s it.” The brown eyes sparkled with interest. “You’ve put a lot of thought into a variety of aspects of development.”

“Yes, I have.”

“Good. You can give me some ideas.” She rubbed her cheek with her thumb, then shrugged. “Seems a shame for land like Lookout Point to be used for something as mundane as a tower. It has spectacular cliffs and a view to die for. And some of the best wild strawberries you’ve ever tasted.”

“I haven’t been over there much. You’re staying nearby?”

“At Cathcart House. It was my grandparents’ and they left it to me. The land from Lookout Point once belonged to my Gran’s family.”

Jason hadn’t lived in Serenity Bay for two years without hearing some of the old-timers rave about the parties at Cathcart House. There was a private beach, private docks, an oversize boathouse and a gazebo for parties on the lawns.

Piper Langley came from money. He probably should have figured that out, given her chic clothes and perfectly styled hair. It made her presence here in the backwoods even more curious.

“The house is far too big for one person, but—” she shrugged “—I love it. Every room is full of memories.”

He envied her that strong sense of family identity. He’d never had it. Maybe that’s why he pushed so hard for Serenity Bay to be the kind of place families could be together.

Most of the time the land acquisition team he’d been part of at Expectations seemed a thousand miles away, part of the distant past. Then he’d remember Trevor and that horrible feeling of being duped and he was right back there. Once he’d almost been willing to sell his soul to buy a piece of Expectations—so deep went his need to be part of something important and fulfilling.

Jason blinked back to reality when Piper swung a briefcase onto his desk. He hadn’t even noticed her carrying it.

“I took the liberty of drafting up a few ideas for you to look over, Jason.” She took a quick look at him over one shoulder as if to check he was listening, then spread charts and graphs across his desk. “I’ve been talking to several corporate heads and put together a list of those who might be willing to chip in as sponsors for different events I’ve planned for the summer.”

The woman twigged his curiosity. According to her résumé, she’d had a great job in Calgary. Her boss had told him confidentially that when she’d resigned, she’d refused a substantial raise to stay, even given them rather short notice to come to Serenity Bay. Yet no one Jason contacted had said anything negative about her. Rather, they were very vocal with their praise of her skills.

Cathcart House couldn’t be the only thing drawing her back. She could have kept that as a summer place, visited during her vacations. Instead she’d made a permanent move from the city to the middle of nowhere.

Stop questioning your good luck, Franklin.

“As you can see, I’ve scheduled events throughout the summer and fall. That way we can maximize the exposure without running ourselves ragged.”

Jason hadn’t heard all of what she’d said, but what he had absorbed told him her plans were ambitious. And clearly thought out.

“Piper. Why are you here?”

She feigned composure, but Jason caught the slight tremor in her hand, the way her eyes flickered before she glanced down.

“I’m here to do a job, to help make Serenity Bay a desirable getaway for those who want a healthy, natural vacation.” She looked up, met his stare. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Her voice was quiet, relaxed. And yet something nagged at him.

“Yes, it’s what we want,” he admitted.

“Do you want me to leave?”

“Of course not. We’re delighted that someone with your qualifications is willing to take on the project.” He paused, unsure of exactly the right words that would voice his feelings.

“You have doubts about my ability.”

“Not really. It’s just…I can’t help speculating why you chose to return at this particular time. Your grandparents—?”

“They moved into a nursing home in Toronto about three years ago. They’ve since passed away.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.” Piper’s clear skin flushed. “If there’s a problem with my references—”

He shook his head. “No, there’s no problem.”

She frowned, lifted one palm. “Then—”

He was an idiot to question the best thing that had happened since he’d been elected mayor. Everything he’d learned said she was great at what she did. That should be enough.

“Forgive my question. I’ve been told I’m a little obsessed when it comes to our bay.” He smiled, hunkering down to peer at her work. “This looks very aggressive.”

Piper didn’t answer for several minutes, but when she did, a guarded note edged her voice in cool reserve.

“I thought that was the point. Didn’t you want to start showing the world what treasures you have here in cottage country?”

“Yes, of course. Could you explain the first step?”

“It will be a weekend extravaganza, to whet appetites so people will want to come back.”

Maybe Serenity Bay was her escape, too.

Jason nodded as if he’d understood. But he hadn’t. Especially about that winter festival. He’d been thinking about promoting the Bay as a summer resort town and now she was talking about year-round development.

“Is there anyone you might know who could offer me some input on current local activities?”

He thought a moment, then nodded.

“The artists’ guild is meeting this afternoon. They’re the primary draw for outsiders at the moment. We have quite a number of local artisans. Weavers, painters, potters, stained-glass artists. Several earn a living from their work but most of them have to go to the other towns to capitalize on the customers that flood in during the summer.”

“If we bring people in here, that will change. I can understand why they live here. The beauty stimulates your creative genes.”

“Are you an artist, too?” He somehow couldn’t imagine her spattered in paint.

“My grandfather was a goldsmith, my grandmother a jewelry designer. They taught me. I’d like to get back to it one of these days.”

Gold. Yeah, that fit her perfectly.

“I see you have a tour program proposed,” Jason said. “Some of the guild members would certainly go for that. Why not ask for volunteers to help with the extravaganza thing? That way you’d get to know them sooner.”

“Yes, I’d thought of that.” Her eyes glittered like black onyx. “This is going to be a very exciting time in Serenity Bay, Jason. I can’t wait to see what happens.”

“Neither can I.” He cleared his throat.

“But?” She frowned.

“I’d appreciate it if you’d keep me in the loop about what you’re doing. The council has several ideas of their own. We don’t want to overlap.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep you informed of whatever’s happening. Thanks for your support.” In a flash she gathered her papers and replaced them in her briefcase.

Five minutes later Piper Langley was walking down the pier toward a small red compact that sat in the parking lot.

Jason waited until he saw her taillights disappear, then he picked up the phone.

“Hey, Ida. How are you?” He chuckled at the growl from the town’s secretary. Ida’s bark was always worse than her bite. “Yes, I do know you’re off work today. I just want to ask you something. Our new economic development officer is officially on the job. Can you let me know if she asks you for anything special?”

“Asks me for something? Like what?” Ida Cranbrook never skirted an issue. She claimed she was too old for that. “Pens? Paper?”

“You know what I mean. I just want to make sure she and I are on the same channel,” he muttered. “We haven’t got much of a budget. I don’t want to see it squandered.”

“You think she’ll do that? A woman with her reputation?”

“Well—”

“You don’t have to spell it out. I get it, Jason. You want to approve everything before she does it.”

“You make that sound like a bad thing.” Silence. Jason sighed. “I just need to know. Okay? Satisfied?”

“Not nearly.” She cackled at her own joke. “You’re the boss, Jason. If you want me to spy on the girl and give you daily reports, I suppose I’ll have to do it. But I won’t like it.”

“I’m not asking you to spy on her.”

“Ha!” Ida Cranbrook was no fool.

“Never mind. Sorry I bothered you, Ida. Especially on your day off.”

“Doesn’t matter a bit. Harold’s nodded off to sleep in the middle of one of those car races, anyway. I just started spicing up some ribs for dinner. You interested?”

Interested in Ida Cranbrook’s specially prepared, mouth-watering ribs? Was a fish interested in water?

“Just tell me when and where.” His stomach growled at the thought of those succulent bits of artery-clogging pleasure.

“Six o’clock. And bring the girl. From what I saw at the interview, she looks like she could use some meat on those bones. Besides, then we can all watch her, make sure she doesn’t pull a fast one on us.” Ida barked a laugh, then hung up.

In one weak moment he’d confided his past and the betrayal that had precipitated his leaving Expectations. Now Ida could read him like a book—which Jason found extremely disconcerting.

So was inviting Piper Langley to go with him to Ida’s. Piper of the iceberg-blue suit and immaculate makeup. He just couldn’t envision her dripping in barbecue sauce and grease. Seemed a little like casting pearls into the mud to him.

Good looks and nice clothes had nothing to do with the person inside. He’d learned not to judge by exteriors and he couldn’t afford to forget that lesson. Besides, he’d never yet met a person who didn’t love Ida’s ribs. Between Ida, Harold and himself, they should be able to find out more about the new owner of Cathcart House.

Jason drank the coffee he’d forgotten to pour for Piper wishing he’d told her straight up that he intended to be involved in every part of her plans.

Jason had compared her to a rose, but roses had thorns that could draw blood, cause pain. Fine. He could deal with that. But Serenity Bay’s development was his chance to put his mark on the world, and he wasn’t about to let anybody ruin that.

Jason had survived the shame of being duped by someone he trusted, had weathered whispers, mended broken relationships with each of his clients while he worked out his notice at Expectations and left a job he loved. He’d endured the sly looks at a wedding that should have been his by planning a new dream and praying for forgiveness while he struggled to trust God for a new plan for his future. He still wasn’t certain he was where God wanted him, though he prayed about it daily.

Putting Serenity Bay on the tourism map without input from the major developers he’d once worked with would show anybody who doubted him that he could still make it in the big leagues.

He’d been duped once. But nobody, including Piper Langley, was going to fool him into trusting wrongly again.




Chapter Three


“I’m glad you asked me to join you tonight. I’ve never met Ida Cranbrook. At least, I don’t think I have. I’m sure she wasn’t around when I lived here before.”

“She and Harold have only been here a little longer than me.”

Piper climbed from Jason’s truck and walked toward a cottage that looked like Hansel and Gretel’s gingerbread house. She sniffed the air.

“Oh, that aroma is marvelous. I love ribs.”

“You’ll like them even more after you taste Ida’s. She has this secret recipe. Every year more and more people try to copy it.”

“Maybe I could wheedle it from her for the good of the town. You know, ‘Come to Serenity Bay and sample Ida’s ribs.’ Something like that.” Piper smiled at Jason, liking the way his hair flopped across his forehead. He was so different from the corporate stiffs she usually worked with.

“Nobody has managed to get it out of her yet, so you’d have a coup if you did.” His fingers grazed her elbow as he directed her up the two steps to the front door.

“Hmm. I’ll try hard, then.”

“Ida’s also the sounding board for the entire community. She knows everything about everything. What she doesn’t know, she’ll find out.”

“Ah, an unimpeachable source. Good.”

He laughed, rapped the door twice, then opened it.

“We’re here,” he announced in a loud voice, then motioned for Piper to precede him inside.

A man emerged from the room beyond, ducking his head to walk beneath the low, exposed beams.

“Don’t call her,” he murmured, shaking his head as he beckoned them inside. “She’s at the crucial stage.”

“Of what?”

“I don’t know, exactly, but she says it’s crucial.” He held out his hand, smiled at Piper. “I’m Harold Cranbrook, Ida’s husband. And you’re the lady who’s going to put the Bay on the map. Come on in.”

“Piper Langley.” She shook his hand. “And I hope you’re right.”

“Jason hasn’t steered us wrong yet.”

As far as she could tell, everybody liked Jason. That would make it easier to work for him. She hoped.

Piper glanced around. It was like walking into a doll’s house. Everything seemed so tiny. How did a man as large as Harold endure living among all this china, crystal and dolls?

“Ida’s out on the deck. Is it too chilly for us to join her?”

“Let’s do,” Piper agreed, relieved they’d be away from the fragile objects, at least for a little while. She eased left, leaving a wide gap between her leg and the tiny, blue china ladies perched atop a table, then blushed when Jason winked at her and followed suit on tiptoe.

“Hey there! I didn’t hear you arrive. Come on out.” Ida slid open the patio door, then wrapped her tiny arms around Jason in a hug. She did the same to Piper. “I’m glad you could come, Miss Langley. Welcome to Serenity Bay.”

“Thank you. It was sweet of you to invite me.”

“Jason told me you used to live here. We only moved here two and a half years ago, so I didn’t know your grandparents, but I’ve heard a lot about Sara and Gordon Young from the old-timers on the Bay.” She basted the ribs, pushed a fork against the meat, then shook her head and closed the lid. “People used to talk about how he’d sail her around the coves in that cute little sailboat. What’s it called—Shalimar, that’s it. Such an unusual name.” Ida glanced at Jason, raised one eyebrow.

“Papa said it sounded like a faraway place you’d escape to. That’s why he chose it.” Piper noticed some kind of under-current running between the mayor and his office helper. She decided to wait and see what it was about.

“Piper uses Shalimar to get to work.” Jason’s gaze remained on the sizzling barbecue.

“Only when it’s good weather,” she said.

“Like today. I heard you’ve been talking to the guild.” Ida glanced at Jason as if she knew something. “So has Piper given you her report yet?”

“What report?” Piper glanced back and forth, even checked Harold’s expression. “Did I miss something?”

“Jason here is a bit obsessive when it comes to business in the Bay. Scratch that. He’s a lot obsessive. Not that he doesn’t have a good reason. Betrayal by your best friend is never nice.” Ida patted his shoulder as if he were six. “If my hunch is right, and it is, he’ll want to know exactly what you did this afternoon.”

“But he already knows. I told him my plans this morning.” Piper accepted a seat on a wicker chair, then glanced at Jason. He was frowning at Ida. Piper didn’t blame him. Being betrayed by your best friend sounded horrible.

Maybe that’s why he’d come to Serenity Bay, to prove to the powers at Expectations that he could handle more than one aspect of development. Maybe he hoped his work here would push him up their career ladder faster. Please, not another Baron.

“I am not obsessive.”

“Ha!” The tiny woman sat down, crossed her arms over her thin chest. “You like to pretend you aren’t, but you’re totally obsessed by the Bay’s future.” She looked at Piper. “Controlling, too.”

“Stop badgering the boy, Ida. We elected him to be concerned about Serenity Bay. I’d say he’s doing his job perfectly.” Harold turned to Piper, lowering his voice. “They’re like two five-year-olds in a school yard. Best to change the subject. You got a boyfriend?”

Piper gulped. What ribs could be worth this?

“Don’t answer that. Harold fancies himself a matchmaker. You give him the least bit of information and he’ll go hunting up a beau for you.” Ida poked Jason’s leg. “You read those test results?

“What tests? I go to the boat show in Toronto for two days and you’ve got people doing tests?”

“I do my job,” the older woman sniffed. “Public health said we had to have a water check. I got it done. No problem there.”

“Good.”

Ida stood and peeked under the barbecue lid, adjusted the heat.

“Ribs need a few more minutes,” she explained. She wiped her hands on a towel hanging on the front of the barbecue. “Water’s okay, but we do have a problem with some of the campsite facilities. He’s going to let you know.”

“Fine.” Jason switched subjects, but he didn’t meet her stare. “Piper thought someone was working up on Lookout Point. Know anything about that, Ida?”

“Nope. But the telephone people visit it in the spring and the fall. Could be them.” She turned to Piper. “What was Serenity Bay like when you used to come here?”

“Pretty much the same. Maybe there were a few more people but then I was mostly here in the summer. In the winter Gran and Papa went to Florida but only after we celebrated Christmas together at Cathcart House.” She didn’t want to talk about the past. “About the summer people—do you know the kind of radius you’re drawing from?”

“We’ve done some surveys.” Ida prattled on about the city dwellers who came north to get away.

“Would you be able to get me a list with addresses? I’d like to get an idea of our current market.”

“Sure.” Ida shrugged as if it wasn’t important. “I’m in Tuesday.”

“Do you always take Mondays off?”

“Unless there’s something pressing. The town hasn’t got enough money for full-time office staff in the winter.” Ida plunked down on one of the patio chairs. “I’ll start working full-time after Easter.”

“Is there any new industry in the area?” she asked, looking for something to hang her plans on. “There used to be a sawmill—”

“It’s been closed for years.” Harold pulled out a map. “I heard that years ago some folks found a nice vein of copper up past the mill road—about there,” he said, pointing. “Purest ever seen, according to the stories. Shone in the sun as if it had been molded into those rocks forever. People used to stop by, take little pieces of it. Few years of that and it was gone, too.” He shrugged. “But it brought the place a minute or two of fame.”

While he’d been speaking, Ida had hurried away. She now returned with a platter and scooped the ribs off the barbecue onto it and handed it to Harold.

“Time to eat,” she announced.

Piper followed Ida to the dining room, where a long buffet table, six chairs and a huge black table were set.

“Piper, you sit there. Jason can sit across from you and Harold and I will hold down the ends. Good. Now, grace, Harold.”

Harold gave thanks, then picked up one of the plates stacked in front of him and began to load it with ribs, creamy mashed potatoes and bright green peas.

“Oh, my!” Piper gaped when he placed it in front of her. “It looks delicious, but it’s way too much. Perhaps you can make me a smaller plate.”

“Nonsense! You get started on Ida’s ribs, you won’t stop.”

Piper looked at Jason while searching her brain for some way to make them understand that she would never be able to eat what she’d been served. But Jason was busy eyeing his own heaping plate and spared her only a quick grin as he picked up a rib.

“Try them first,” he advised, then bit into the succulent meat.

Since everyone else had begun to eat, Piper followed their lead. She picked up the smallest piece between two fingers and nibbled at the end. The spices hit her tongue like those candy Pop Rocks she and her friends used to buy for a quarter and leave on their tongues while the flavors fizzled and hissed.

Only better. Much, much better.

Silence reigned as the four of them enjoyed their meals. Piper waited until Ida had coaxed everyone into seconds before she asked her, “Have you noticed anyone looking around the town recently?”

“Oh, we get Looky Lou’s all the time. Never amounts to a thing. Funny fellow with big glasses was in the office when Jason was away. Biggest brown eyes I ever saw. Wanted to know about the beach. It’s sand. What more could I say?” She croaked a laugh at her own joke.

So Wainwright Inc. had sent someone to check things out. It was strange Dylan was doing on-site research these days.

Piper realized Jason’s blue eyes were on her. A smear of sauce dotted his cheek.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“Not really. I just wondered if a corporation was already interested. I didn’t see a hotel in town—”

“Exactly what I’ve been telling the council,” Jason exclaimed. “The no-tell motel is hardly the kind of place we want to showcase, though it’s clean enough. But Bart doesn’t think there’s any point in painting or modernizing the place, especially since business has been so slow. If he heard he’d have some competition, I imagine he’d sink some cash into his outfit pronto.”

“So nobody’s talked to you about building a hotel?” Piper had hoped for nonchalance but knew it hadn’t quite come off when Jason’s curious stare stayed on her. He couldn’t know why she was asking, could he?

“To me personally? No.” He turned toward the older woman. “Ida, you didn’t get the name of this man, did you?”

Ida set down her fork, her forehead wrinkled.

“He gave one. I just don’t remember what it was. Young fellow, really friendly. I might have written it down. I’ll check on Tuesday.” Her scrutiny shifted to Piper, grew more intense. “Why are you so interested in this guy?” she asked.

“If he was scouting locations, I’d like to talk to him,” she ad-libbed. “Maybe the town can dangle a carrot that would encourage someone to build.”

“We don’t have much to dangle,” Ida mumbled, her face skeptical. She forgot the subject they’d been discussing, until later when Piper was drying dishes beside her.

“You know who was here snooping around don’t you?”

“I could guess. I have a few feelers out with friends who suggested a company but I’ll have to do more checking.” She kept her attention on the glass she was drying.

“He kept asking about bylaws to do with the beach. You think someone wants to put a hotel right on it—like in Hawaii?” Ida swished the suds down the drain, then hung her dishcloth over the sink. “That might not be a bad idea.”

Piper set down the last dry dish, searching for a way to express her concern.

“It could work, with a lot of input from the town council. But we don’t want such a beautiful beach to be ruined.”

“By pollution, you mean?” Ida shrugged. “I’m sure the government has lots of laws to control that sort of thing.”

“Not just pollution. The wholesome atmosphere of the town has to be protected if we want to attract families. We don’t want a bar near little kids playing in the sand.”

“Goes without saying.” Apparently her explanation satisfied Ida, who then busied herself filling the coffee decanter with water. “Stays light longer now. Would you like to join us outside and watch the stars come out?”

“They are beautiful, but don’t make any coffee for me. Thanks, Ida. I have to be going. I sailed over and I need to get back before dark.”

“Harold and I probably shouldn’t be drinking coffee before bed, anyway. Harold always dreams.” Ida pulled open the fridge and took out a jug of red juice. “Can I interest you in some cranberry juice? Made it myself.”

“Could I try it another time?” Piper glanced at her watch, unwilling to believe the time on the kitchen clock was correct.

“You’re welcome anytime. Bring Jason with you. He says he likes his own cooking, but he doesn’t cook much. Gets most of his nourishment from those cinnamon buns he buys at the farmers’ market. I try to fatten him up.”

If Piper was any judge, the fattening up would take a while. Jason Franklin didn’t have a spare ounce on him. Rather, he had a polished, muscular look that made her think of a jaguar. From the state of his sneakers, she suspected he jogged to stay in shape. No wonder he could eat cinnamon buns whenever he wanted.

“Thank you very much for dinner. It was so delicious, I won’t have to think about another meal for days. And if you ever want to let me in on your secret rib recipe…” Piper let the sentence trail away when Ida shook her head firmly.

“Can’t do that, but you’re welcome to share them anytime.”

“Thank you. And you and Harold are always welcome at Cathcart House.”

The dock was only a few minutes’ walk from Ida’s, but Jason insisted on driving Piper.

“I would have walked here with you, but I wanted to drop off Harold’s motor.” He hoisted the machine out of his truck bed and stood it against the workshop where Ida’s husband waited beside the birdhouses he’d carved from driftwood.

They thanked the couple for the meal, wishing them good-night before riding back to the marina. Silence stretched awkwardly between them. Piper couldn’t think of a thing to say.

“Are you going to be able to get back safely?” Jason asked as he unfastened her boat from its moorings.

The evening had grown cool and Piper tugged her coat from its hiding place in the hatch of the sailboat. “Oh, yes. I’ll be fine.”

Jason scanned the sky.

“There’s a storm blowing in,” he told her. “You could get swamped.”

She tried to explain that she’d been sailing many times, and had handled her fair share of rough weather, but he refused to listen.

“I’ll tie your boat behind mine. I’ve got an inboard that can weather anything. It won’t take long to zip across the lake. Besides, I’ll feel a whole lot better if I know for certain that you’re home, dry and safe. The lake water is too cold to capsize in.”

She couldn’t talk him out of it, and so a few moments later Piper found herself seated beside him in his boat, watching the familiar coastline fly past. Truthfully she enjoyed the feeling of knowing someone cared. It had been a long time. Another thing she’d prayed about and it was still unanswered. Did God want her to remain single?

Jason asked her questions about her meeting with the guild and she told him some of what she’d learned and how she intended to use it.

He was obsessive, about the town at least. Well, maybe she could use that to her advantage.

They arrived in her little cove twenty minutes later, just as the last flicker of light sank behind the jagged cliffs of Paradise Peak. As she peered up through the gloom, Piper could see little of the familiar landmarks because the dock lights hadn’t come on.

“Will you come up for some coffee?” she invited, once her sailboat was secured.

“Only if you make it hot chocolate,” Jason said. “After Ida’s high-octane sauce, my stomach will go into convulsions if I add coffee.”

“Sure.” Funny that his agreement brought such a flush of relief. She’d never worried about coming back late before. Piper led him off the dock and up the path to her home.

“You need some automatic lights. With all the clouds, it’s quite dark along here. The trees keep out the moonlight.”

She was suddenly aware of why she’d felt so uneasy. It wasn’t just the dock lights that were out. There were no lights along here, either.

His hand grazed her shoulder.

“Piper? What’s wrong?”

“I do have lights.” She looked up, pointed. “There’s one.”

“Well, it’s not working.”

She raised one eyebrow. “Yes, I’d noticed. Thanks.”

He grinned, then glanced around. “Looks like they’re all out. What do you suppose happened to them?”

“I have no idea. Fortunately, I’m very familiar with this path.” She turned and began striding along, confidence growing with each step she took. The next moment she was on her knees. “Ow!”

What was the willow chair her grandmother had always kept on the porch doing here?

“Whoa!” He was there, grasping her arm, helping her stand, his grip strong, reassuring. “What happened?”

“My pride just took a beating.” She brushed her palms against her legs, feeling the prick of pebbles that had dug into her skin.

“Maybe I should lead.” He lifted the chair out of the way.

“You’ve been here before?” she asked, staring at him.

“Good point. You lead, I’ll follow. Just go a little slower, okay?”

“Right.” Embarrassed, she picked her way up the path, her mind busy with the light question. “Maybe a breaker’s flipped or something.”

“Maybe.”

When she stumbled again, he took her hand, his warm, strong fingers threading through hers. “Let’s just go slowly, make sure we don’t happen over anything else.”

At that moment the moon slipped out from between two black clouds and provided just enough light for her to see a shape move through the brush.

“Do you see him?” she whispered.

“Who?” He glanced at her. “I can’t really see anything.”

Then moonlight was gone. So was the shadow. Maybe she’d imagined it. Piper shook her head.

“Never mind. It’s not far to the house now. This leads to the garden. Once we’re past these roses, we take two steps up onto the deck.” Her eyes were adjusting now, discerning familiar landmarks. “See? There’s the arch into the garden.”

He probably didn’t need her directing him, but she did it anyway until finally they stood before her door.

“Now if I can just get the key inside.” She slid it into the lock and twisted, unlocking the door and pushing it open. With one flick of her wrist the house entry and deck were illuminated. “Come on in.”

She turned on lights as she walked into the house. Thank goodness she’d cleaned up the kitchen this morning.

“So all the power’s not out. Just those lights.” He raised one eyebrow. “Where’s the breaker box? I’ll check it, if you want.”

“Thanks.” Piper showed him the panel in the basement, then left him, intending to return to the kitchen and put the kettle on. Halfway up the basement stairs she stopped, taking a second look.

The old wicker furniture her grandparents had replaced several years ago still sat down here because Piper had hopes of locating someone who would recane the seats and backs. But the furniture had recently been moved, and not by her.

Someone had been in her house.

“The breaker was off, all right.” Jason slapped the metal door closed. “If you’ve got a timer, you’ll have to reset.” He stopped speaking, looked at her more closely. “Something else isn’t right?”

“I’m not sure.” She went back down the stairs, stepped between the two love seats and stared at the thick wooden door she always kept locked. When she tried to open it, the dead bolt held, but she could see faint marks on the wood where it looked as if someone had pried a screwdriver. Had it been done tonight?

“Where does that door lead to? A secret tunnel?”

“Kind of. I told you my grandfather was a goldsmith, didn’t I? Well, he kept a workshop here after he retired.” She saw the interest flare in his eyes and hurried on. “I’ve been catching up on what he taught me. Because of the chemicals we use, he always insisted his work area be kept hidden and locked up. I’m the same way.”

“Sounds interesting.”

“It is.” Piper didn’t want to say any more right now. She wanted to think about whether someone could have gone through her house, and why. “Thanks for fixing the breaker. It’ll be nice to have lights again.”

“Yes.” He kept looking at her, though he said nothing more. He didn’t have to; that stare sent a funny kind of zing up her spine.

“Let’s go have that hot chocolate,” she murmured, tearing her gaze away.

“Sure.”

Jason followed her up the stairs to the kitchen and perched on one of the breakfast stools, watching as she put the ingredients together.

“Are you telling me that you are a goldsmith, also?” he asked when the silence between them had stretched to discomfort.

“No. I just putter at it. Gifts for friends, things like that.” She held out a mug. “Would you rather sit outside? There’s a space where we’ll be protected if it rains. We could watch the storm, though I’m sure it will only be a tiny one. The wind isn’t blowing hard anymore.”

“Outside sounds fine.”

Before she could lead the way, the phone rang.

“Hey, there. I tried you earlier, but no answer. Were you out on a hot date with the mayor?”

“Um, I’ll have to call you back, Ash. I’ve got company right now.”

“So I was right! Rowena owes me ten bucks.”

“Lucky you. Bye now.”

Knowing full well that her friend would immediately call Row and the two of them would discuss her visitor made Piper uncomfortable, especially with the subject of their conversation so near.

“Sorry, that was a friend of mine.” She pushed open the door. “You didn’t have to come over here with me. The sailboat does have a motor.”

“I’m glad I came. I was curious to see where you lived.” He followed her through the French doors and sank down onto the chair nearest hers. “It’s a beautiful view.”

She tried to see the garden through his eyes. Her grandmother had ordered small, shielded lights installed high up which cast a wash of illumination over her favorite gnarled oak trees. Accent lights hidden by boulders would soon show off the glorious blues of delphiniums, bright-red poppies and candy-pink carnations. Buried in the beds of the soon-to-be fragrant and colorful rose garden were soft, romantic lights, and along the path oversize mushroom lights showed the next step on the path down to the lake.

“Sitting up here, it feels as if the world is far away. It must be a wonderful place to come home to.”

“I never get tired of it.” Piper wished he could see it on a summer day when Cathcart House was at its best. “Every day I thank my grandparents for leaving this to me.”

“How did they die?”

“They moved to Toronto when Papa’s heart needed an operation. But he was too frail to recover. They died within months of each other.”

“I’m sorry.”

“So am I.”

“You didn’t come back?”

“Not for a while. It hurt too much.”

Low, growling thunderclaps rumbled their warnings across the water, and every so often a jagged slash of silver-blue lightning illuminated the rich, black-green forest across the lake for one brief space in time. A few droplets of rain spattered on the flagstones.

Why didn’t he say something?

“When I sit out here and see all the beauty God’s created, I can’t help but think of that hymn, ‘How Great Thou Art.’” It sounded silly, but Piper chalked her uneasiness up to the odd situation with the lights and the feeling that someone was watching them.

“I feel the same way,” Jason admitted. “There are so many lovely places around Serenity Bay. That’s one reason why I want to stay on top of the development we let in. It would be terrible to see the forests cut, the lake polluted and the coastline ruined in the name of progress. Know what I mean?”

She nodded. “Yes, I know. It’s like we’ve been entrusted with something precious, and while I do want others to see and appreciate it, I also want it to be here a hundred years from now.”

“For your grandchildren,” he teased.

“Yes,” she whispered. But Piper didn’t laugh.

Ever since that horrible afternoon she’d kissed Vance goodbye, she’d never allowed herself to think about kids. That only brought stabs of regret for what could never be. Her mother had clung to enough regrets for all of them. At twenty-three, when she’d left Wainwright Inc., Piper had made up her mind that she would never end up like her mother, pining for a man so consumed by making money he didn’t know what his own family was doing.

To love someone so much and have him ignore you—until you lost the will to live— No!

Love best suited people like her grandparents. Vance’s death proved that. Since he’d been gone, Piper had built a wall around her heart. She’d talked to her minister about it, talked to God about it, but somehow she couldn’t risk letting anyone get too close in case she got hurt again. Maybe that’s why she couldn’t trust God when it came to her father. God’s ways were slow and she had to stop Baron now.

“This has been great, but I think I’d better go now that the lightning has stopped. It’s getting quite late.” Jason stood, smiled down at her.

“You don’t have a light on your boat?” Piper asked, rising, too.

“Oh, yes. I won’t have any difficulty getting back.”

“Oh.” Obviously he was simply anxious to get away from her.

“I teach some boys a Sunday school class and I like to bone up on my lessons on Saturday night. They always have questions.” He stepped down off the deck, then turned back. “You’re very welcome to join us, if you’d like. It’s Bayside Believers Church, about half a block from Ida’s. If you meet me on the dock at nine-thirty, I’ll give you a ride. It’s always easier to go somewhere new with somebody else, don’t you think?”

His thoughtfulness touched a chord inside her. How was it he’d managed to read her so easily while he remained an enigma to her?

“Thank you. I’d like that. I’ll be there.”

“I’ll wait for you then. Good night.”

“Good night.” Piper stood on the deck, watching as he wound his way down the path and climbed aboard his boat.

When he looked up, she waved, waited for the sound of his powerful motor to recede then picked up the two mugs and walked inside, carefully locking the door behind her.

She rinsed the mugs, but left them in the sink until morning. Right now there was something else she needed to do.

Piper quickened her step down to the basement. She grabbed a nearby flashlight and shone it on the door. Yes, those were tool marks. And they were new.

She moved back upstairs, checked the back doorknob. No marks. Same thing on the front. No sign of forced entry. Her entire body slumped in relief.

“Thank you, Lord.”

Then she remembered.

“If you ever come and can’t get in, we’ll have a key hidden right here. Nobody will know about it but us.”

Piper flicked on the outside lights, unlocked the door and stepped onto the deck once more. She trod lightly across the deck, stopped in one corner. Her grandmother’s wishing well sat there, unused after the cold winter, cobwebs, dried leaves and dust frills gathered around the bottom.

The day she’d arrived she’d discovered one of her grandfather’s diaries was missing. It contained her grandfather’s thoughts from the last year of his life and it was the only one she hadn’t read, thinking she’d leave it until the grief wasn’t so fresh and it didn’t seem as if he were sitting there, saying the words to her.

Piper bent, tilted the well and slid her fingers beneath, searching for the key. Nothing. She pushed and shoved the heavy wooden piece, propped it up with a piece of wood, then shone her flashlight beneath.

There was no key.

She’d come here once after her grandparents had gone into the home and again after they’d died. The key had been there then. So had the diary. She could close her eyes right now and see the gilt letters etched on the leather cover.

Someone had taken the key and the journal.

Someone like Baron Wainwright?

After a hasty survey of the garden, Piper stepped back inside, closed and locked the door. She made sure all the windows were secure before she phoned the police. Piper felt certain they would find little and she was right. The police left no wiser than when they’d arrived.

Even so, Baron was the top suspect on her list. He’d hated her grandparents because they’d shielded her when he’d tried to force her back home years ago. He’d hated her because she’d told him the truth—that her mother would never have condoned his hateful behavior toward them, threatening them with legal action and lawsuits, but stood up to him and demanded he leave them alone or she’d disown him. And because she wouldn’t bow to his wishes.

Was taking Papa’s diary his way of denying her the solace she might have found in those last beloved words? Or was it a trick, a way to get her to call him and beg for what was rightfully hers?

If he thought she’d come crawling to him, he was in for disappointment. Piper had nothing more to say to her father.

Soft rain began falling, muffling the world outside. Piper lit a fire and curled up in her grandfather’s chair. She opened her briefcase and focused her attention on her plans for Serenity Bay.

But her thoughts kept returning to the tall, handsome mayor and the sense of gentleness she’d felt when he escorted her home.

Jason was a nice man. If she didn’t disappoint him about the Bay they could be good friends. But that’s all they’d be. Her heart couldn’t risk anything more.




Chapter Four


Piper Langley was no slouch.

Except for weekends and the busy summer days when rentals were in demand and tourists milled around everywhere, Jason preferred to come in to the town office early to check on happenings from the day before. But on both Monday and Tuesday mornings Piper arrived before him. Today she was already on the phone.

“I know it’s early for you, Jeff. But it’s even earlier for me.” Her light, musical laugh carried through the general office to the reception area. “I need to know if you’re interested in making an investment. Serenity Bay. I sent you a fax. Of course you haven’t heard of it yet. I haven’t started publicizing it yet. But when I do—”

Jason moved quickly into his own office, sorted through the files Ida had left for him and began dealing with his workload. Piper’s melodic voice carried to him periodically, her laughter bubbling out like a brook released from winter’s grip. From what he’d overheard, she sounded awfully friendly with this Jeff person. But then someone who looked like her wouldn’t be alone for long.

Checking the direction of his thoughts, Jason plowed through the pile of manila folders, then decided to start the coffee. Ida preferred hers the consistency of tar and wasn’t averse to tossing out anything she declared dishwater. He needed a cup before she came in.

He walked to the kitchen, filled the coffeemaker and waited for the water to drip through the grounds.

“Tomorrow? Fantastic. Thanks a lot, Peter.”

When the coffee was finished, Jason poured himself a cup, added some sugar and carried it toward his office. He was almost there when Piper flew out of her office and ran smack-dab into him. He jerked back to protect her and caught his breath as hot, dark coffee slopped over the rim and across his chest.




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