Better Than Gold (17 page)

Motion caught her eye and Mia glanced up just in time to see a tall dark-haired man come in the door and turn away. Her heart nearly caught in her throat until she realized the man wasn’t Daniel. Ah-yah, she was so not clear and free of thinking about him.

Helen Schroeder was speaking and belatedly Mia gave her her attention. “...getting too old to have all the kids and grandkids come and stay with us. Said just the other day, wouldn’t it be nice if we had a nice motel? You know, one of those chains with an indoor pool and all.”

“Do you think you can get something like that started, Ms. Parker?” Cindy Carmody asked. “I don’t even have kids, but maybe us girls could have a girl’s night, like they do in the movies.”

“We could treat ourselves to dinner at a nice restaurant and go for a swim,” Millie Davies put in.

“I guess we have all been dreaming about what kind of things our town could use.” Mattie Finn spoke shyly but smiled brightly when every other woman nodded her head.

“I can’t tell you ladies how thrilled I am to hear all your enthusiasm about Bailey’s Cove,” Mia said, wishing people in the town had spoken up sooner.

When Pirate’s Roost opened, she was more sure than she had ever been that the town would support her business.

Other tables called her over and indicated she should drag her chair. Her phone rang and she stopped the sound without looking at the screen.

By the time she had made the rounds to the small tables, an entire enterprise of businesses had been suggested for the town. A few, like a couple big-box stores, were out of the question, but a bed-and-breakfast, the motel with an indoor pool, a shop featuring Maine crafts and many others made sense for the necessary growth of the town. Someone even mentioned the starting of a town blog by Shamus she thought.

Mia was having a wonderfully distracting time. The only table she hadn’t visited was the long one against the far wall, where eleven of Bailey’s Cove’s most experienced townsfolk sat. She got the feeling they had been talking about something private when she approached with her chair.

They welcomed her and regaled her with stories of Bailey’s Cove. How their grandparents had stood, sat and laid on their bellies watching for submarines during World War II. The times their grandparents shared their catch with each other and bartered with the farmers when the depression took away so many of the jobs. Their parents had told them about such things as the first use of electricity followed by the first radio, washing machine and vacuum cleaner. And they talked about how they raced to launch their boats to safety during the biggest storms, and how each brought in the biggest catch ever. Or, as Sarah O’Brien had put in, had eight kids and lived to tell the tale.

“And we might have been the last spot in the country to get internet, but even more unbelievable that Shamus here was the first to get in on it,” the longtime boat captain Camden Flynn put in.

The table of people chuckled and jostled the elderly man.

“Maybe we should tell her about—” Shamus Willis started but Mr. Flynn stopped him.

“Oh, Shamus, she’d not be interested in our shuffleboard club,” Mrs. O’Brien interjected as she gave what sounded like a forced chuckle.

Shamus looked chastised but also a bit rebellious. She wondered what he had truly meant to say.

When she next scanned the bar she noticed Edwin Beaudin had come in, and there was somebody on the stool next to him.

Monique turned when Mia tapped her on the shoulder.

“Hey,” Monique said, “Miss Popular, about time you came and gave us some attention over here.”

“I’m flabbergasted. I had no idea there were so many people so interested in the town’s long-term future.”

“We’re quite progressive,” Monique said, and her granddad chuckled and took a swig of his beer.

“Lenny must be working tonight.”

“And you were nowhere to be found, so here I am.” Monique smiled and offered Mia half her bar stool.

“When are you meeting him at Mandrel’s?”

Monique checked the time and grinned. “In thirty-four minutes, with the usual caveat that urgent police calls take priority.”

Edwin grinned when Monique spoke of Lenny.

“I see you approve.” Mia put her arm around Mr. Beaudin’s shoulder.

“Officer Gardner is a fine man, in spite of all the teasing the two of you did when you were growing up.”

“Edwin, how are things going on O’Connell’s boat?”

“It’s good to be handling a boat again every day.” He took a sip of his beer. “There’s a problem, though.”

Monique turned to him. “You didn’t tell me about a problem.”

“’Cause you’re part of it.”

“What did I do?” Monique put a hand to her throat and gave a sham look of dismay.

“Now you got three people, and the lobsta I got for you only has two claws.”

Mia caught the joke and played along. “I suppose your granddaughter could watch Lenny and I eat the lobster. You must have some little old bottom-feeder you can bring for her.”

Monique laughed. “I might eat the whole thing myself. Let those without fight over the bottom-feeder.”

They spent time talking and Mr. Beaudin laughed more times than Mia guessed he’d laughed in a long time. It was almost as if his daughter were still alive and the four of them were together for a summer meal during one of Maine’s long evenings when the sun didn’t set until after 8:00 p.m.

When it was time for Monique to leave, Mia said goodbye to the groups of townsfolk, told them she’d like to meet with them again—to which they readily agreed and walked with Monique to her car.

“He’s too happy,” Monique said as they stepped out onto the sidewalk.

Mia couldn’t help but glance up at Pirate’s Roost. If the lights were on... Her heart sank low and miserable when there was only darkness.

“What’s wrong with your granddad being happy?” she asked when she was sure she could speak without begging for a hug.

“It’s like he’s no longer struggling, like he has his mind made up and he’s leaving.”

“I’m here if he does, and we’ll find a way for you to live with him being gone for a little while.”

“What if he leaves forever? I can just see what he’s thinking. If I have Lenny, he’s off the hook. He can leave me behind.”

“I don’t have the answer. I wish I did.” Mia tugged the curls back off her face. She had no answers for anything these days.

Monique hugged Mia and got in her car to seek refuge in Lenny’s arms.

By the time Mia started back toward Blueberry Avenue, she was convinced Monique was worrying for nothing. Edwin Beaudin might go to visit his friend, but he’d return satisfied Bailey’s Cove was the best place to live.

Besides, the recurring notion she got from talking to these people was that they were all watching her and Pirate’s Roost, rooting for her, waiting for her success. Then they would not only support her, they would begin to support each other’s dreams and wishes for the town’s survival and growth.

As she started up Blueberry Avenue her phone chimed, telling her she had a new text message. She pulled it instinctively from her pocket.

The text was from the woman who would be her chef when Pirate’s Roost was ready. “Please check your voice mail.”

Mia did as asked.

“Mia, I am so sorry. I wanted to speak directly with you, but you didn’t pick up my calls. I have taken another job.”

Mia stopped cold. Her heart jerked with a painful thud. Her chef had quit. The chef she had searched for until she found the right fit for Pirate’s Roost and the perfect woman to do the job.

Mia replayed the message because she had stopped listening after
taken another job
. “I’m moving to Cleveland next week. I just wanted to thank you for having faith in me and I’m sorry things didn’t work out. I love Maine, but I’m going home.”

Home. Pirates. Terrible secrets. Why were the enemies in her life so complicated?

The opening date of Pirate’s Roost had been put off three times, and if she had to tell the contractor she wasn’t ready, the fourth would be the death knell. She suddenly saw all the dreams and wishes of the people of Bailey’s Cove crashing and burning.

She turned and hiked back down Blueberry Avenue.

Now, she did not care.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

D
AYLIGHT
WOULD
SOON
break. Daniel left the lab and went for a run instead of calling Mia as he wanted to, as he always wanted to, even though when he did call he got voice mail. She had said it didn’t matter if her heart got broken, but he had seen from the beginning the hurt in her lovely blue eyes. He had been kicking himself for three days since she had gotten in her SUV in that devastating black dress and had driven away from him because he had told her she must, that there was nothing for her with him.

She believed him this time, and all he had to do now was convince himself to follow what he knew to be the truth. No, that wasn’t all. He planned to be there when Dr. Donovan arrived in his office this morning. If there was any reason to be found in this whole skeleton in the wall scenario, he’d make Dr. Donovan see it and let Mia get her crew back to work. She did not need to keep hearing the same excuses over and over.

He jogged down the steps and around the building to the path through the campus and to the forest beyond. If he ran hard enough, maybe he could forget for a while.

The early-morning breeze cooled him and the birds sang to him, but every step he took made him think of Mia Parker. The touch of her hand, the feel of utter completeness when he held her in his arms, listened to her sigh. The hope he felt was like nothing he had ever felt.

He pounded harder and faster on the running trail as he tried to think of his past, of the reasons he should not want Mia to love him. Each time they came up, they faded and she took their place, her smile, her rare giggle.

He stopped on the bridge over the river that ran through campus. When he peered down at the water he saw life moving on as it should, but the river remained the same. He could move past the horrors, but they would never change. The reason they happened would not go away. Ever.

He started running again until he was so tired he wasn’t sure he could go on, and then he turned around and ran back the way he had come, back to the lab where he could shower and meet with his students before he saw Dr. Donovan.

Daniel entered the lab, hair slicked back with water, dressed in jeans with no major worn parts, a button-down collared shirt and a newer version of his gray old beater sweater.

The three students were each sitting at a computer terminal calling out changes for something on the screen. “He’s here,” one of them said and the computer screen Daniel could see from the doorway went dark.

“Dr. MacCarey,” Ms. Vock called.

“Good morning, everyone. Did you find anything more about the skeleton?”

“There’s more damage to the bones, but just a broken wrist from childhood. He had already lost two of his teeth when he died,” offered first Ms. Vock and then Mr. Miller.

He could see in the eagerness in their faces they were dying to show him the computer images.

“All right, what do you have?”

Mr. Miller sat down at a computer. “First we took into consideration his height and, based on the size of the crypt, the maximum girth, and based the possible fat deposits in his face on that.”

“He’s trying to say we think he was probably a bit on the skinny side.” Ms. Diaz brought up an image and turned the computer to face Daniel.

The stilted computer-generated image of the face looked homogenized enough to resemble a tenth of the male population on the planet, but the image most likely would have been recognizable to the people who knew him. The students had given the man modest whiskers and dark curling hair.

“And here he is dressed.” The next image showed a standing figure dressed in early American fashion, waistcoat and all.

“Of course, for completeness we added, per the suggestion of Dr. Mitchell, the walking stick, a three-cornered hat and shoes with large buckles.” Dr. Mitchell was one of the early-America experts Daniel had met at Mrs. Wahl’s house for tea that day. “And a cravat. And the buttons on his clothing.”

“We think he had twenty-six to twenty-eight buttons, none of which we found on the clothing. Nor, as Ms. Vock implied, did he have a cravat, which was the norm for the day and the manner of dress.”

“He was wearing his socks, however.”

“Did men really wear shirts that hung down to their knees that they tucked into their pants?” Mr. Miller squirmed as if trying to imagine tucking a knee-length shirt into his jeans.

“Did Dr. Mitchell tell you they did?” Daniel asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Then it’s true. Know your sources and use them for as much authenticity as possible.”

“Dr. Mitchell assures us the clothing was upper-class and was made in the early nineteenth century, probably before 1815.”

“Where can you go now with the investigation?” Daniel asked, and got furrowed brows from two, but Ms. Vock stepped forward. “We can search for images from the era and the area and see if we can find out who the man is? Maybe his descendents would like to know what happened to him.”

“You’ve all done well.”

“Wait. Wait. We are so not finished, Dr. MacCarey,” Ms. Diaz said as she made a few keystrokes.

Onto the screen popped the image of a pirate, a dressed-down Captain Jack Sparrow, sans beard beads and eye shadow.

He had to laugh.

“I need three copies of each of the images.” What would Mia think? His gut twisted.

“We don’t have any photo paper.”

“Regular paper will be good enough for now. Make sure the pirate does not get on the internet and don’t show it to anyone until I tell you it’s all right.”

That finished, he went to Dr. Donovan’s office, turning the last corner as his department head arrived, coffee and keys in hand.

“Come in, Daniel.”

Dr. Donovan hung his coat on the old wooden coat tree and took a seat behind his equally old desk with his coffee in hand.

“I have good news, Daniel. I’m taking the Owens to Bailey’s Cove tomorrow. They are eager to see the site, sit in the ambience I believe is the way Mrs. Owen put it.”

“As I’ve said before, there isn’t much to see. The crypt is in pieces and the remains are here.”

“You’re sure there is nothing more to find at this site?”

“Not without knocking down walls or getting out a backhoe.” There was a little more excitement in his boss’s voice than Daniel liked. “It’s all in my notes.”

“I see you brought something.” He reached a hand across the desk toward Daniel with his palm open.

“The students are searching for an identity,” Daniel said as he handed over the first two photos, keeping the pirate to himself.

He did not add that his great-aunt Margaret had claimed a relationship to the pirate, because the identity of the man in the wall could only be hinted at with circumstantial evidence.

“Always good to have a face for these kinds of things.”

“The students have dated the remains found in Bailey’s Cove from very early in the town’s history.”

“Those three are an eager group. Will they be at the site tomorrow?”

“I’ll see that they are there if at all possible. Sir, I’d like to suggest we allow Ms. Parker to do some demolition away from the sensitive areas at the site. Allowing the site to remain undeveloped is doing a disservice to the small community and the owner.”

“I need to do what’s best for the department and the university. Daniel, if you’re too close to this, I can send you out on a dig. Elliot Smith can take over in Bailey’s Cove. He’ll never impress the donors like you can, but he’s relentless.”

“Ruthless.” As Daniel said the one-word rebuttal he looked his boss in the eyes so there would be no mistaking what he meant.

Dr. Donovan rearranged the papers on his desk. “He does have that quality, but he makes a good stout club when such a thing is necessary.”

A threat. Daniel knew this day would come. Having his boss take the gloves off was all right with him. Everybody had to move on and, above and in spite of all other things, Mia had done him a great service by agreeing to accompany him to the fund-raiser, helping his colleagues realize he was ready to face the rigors of academia.

And he would remember those scarlet lips.

“If your students could name this man, and the evidence is piling up in the direction of the town founder, the pirate, we could give the Owens some guidelines they can follow in making their proposal for the site.”

Apparently the Owens had bought privileges, so to speak, with the size of their donation, and just as apparently Mia didn’t have any. “I think you should reconsider letting Ms. Parker begin work on areas the Owens won’t need to see.”

“Absolutely not until after the Owens have had their visit. It’s very important for Mrs. Owen to experience what she calls the raw site and she will put her nose into everything. You have left instructions that no one is to be tramping all over inside the building.”

“That is currently being taken care of.” Daniel thought of the prints from the athletic shoes on the stairs.

“What about work on the outside of the building?”

“It’s only one more day. It can’t really make that much difference.” Daniel knew if it were a large developer, the attorneys would already be around the table. He was also sure Mia didn’t have the funds for that kind of backup.

“Any delay makes a difference to her. She’s on a tight schedule.”

“The matter will be decided tomorrow.” His boss started to stand, but thought better of it. “I need photos of the site.”

“You’ll have them as soon as I get back to my computer.”

“Do you have something else for me?” Dr. Donovan pointed to the remaining papers in his hand.

Daniel only wondered for a moment what his boss’s face would look like if he gave him the picture of the pirate.

Ecstasy at Mia’s expense.

He rolled the images into a tube. “Copies, sir.”

“I’d appreciate if you would help Ms. Parker remove anything from the site that might detract from the Owens’ experience, and have her open the site tomorrow morning by nine. If she can be there, we’d all love to see her again.”

“If that’s all, sir.”

Dr. Donovan pursed his lips. “It’s not, Dr. MacCarey. There are two new finds, one in Guatemala and one here in Maine. This department will have a hand in the development of both of these. The one in Guatemala will go a long way in helping bring forensic truth to this more modern site. The one in Maine, much less prestigious but still important, is an early-civilization site. I will be assigning you to one of these and Mr. Elliott to the other.” He moved his paperweight onto the stack of papers. “That’s all. I’ll see you tomorrow morning at 9:00 a.m. at the site in Bailey’s Cove.”

Daniel was down the hall on his way to his office before he let himself think about what Donovan had just done.

In essence he had used Elliott to make him toe the mark. If the site in Bailey’s Cove was not handled to his liking, Daniel would get second pick of the assignments after a doctoral candidate.

The site in Guatemala would most likely be a mass grave site, and Dr. Donovan knew Daniel’s career mission statement,
to find out where humans came from so we can aim at a better future,
dovetailed with this kind of site. What Dr. Donovan didn’t know is that Daniel would pick through garbage in Bangor rather than harm Mia any more than he already had.

He owed Dr. Donovan a lot, but the man was using up chits rapidly, and most of them at Mia’s expense.

When he got back to the lab, he found the students setting up another meeting with Eleanor Wahl to try to put a name to the face. He gave the three information on how to get to the site and suggested they all show up by 9:00 a.m. and learn a bit about the other side of academia, the politics of money.

In his car on the way to who-the-hell-knows he called Mia...again. He couldn’t stop the horde from descending, but he could warn her. She hadn’t answered since she drove away on Friday.

One unanswered ring followed the next. One more ring and he’d get her voice mail...again. This time he’d just drive down—

“Hello, Daniel.”

He inhaled a sharp breath. “Mia, thanks for answering.”

An apology sprang to mind, but saying he was sorry would mean he somehow thought anything could change.

“Please, tell me what you want.”

“I’m calling to warn you Dr. Donovan is sponsoring a site visit. At nine o’clock the Owens are coming, as well as the three students I have working on the remains. Apparently Mrs. Owen likes to sit with the site.”

“Are you coming?” she asked.

He couldn’t tell by her tone what she wanted.

“I thought I would come down early tomorrow morning.”

“To make sure I haven’t built a restaurant in place of a pirate’s tomb?”

He smiled. She could have said the words with spite, and would have been justified, but her words teased.

“Something like that. I’ll see you at eight.”

* * *

M
IA
OPENED
THE
DOOR
to Pirate’s Roost before eight o’clock the next morning and returned the pieces of the rose, carefully arranged so they looked like nothing until she pushed them together in the circle of her hands.

Today she had dressed up. In honor of the rose, she wore her pink button-front pullover shirt with a pink cardigan, and jeans, of course.

She loved the rose and what the beloved flower meant in this case. There was some peace in knowing how much Liam Bailey loved Colleen Fletcher.

When a car door slammed, she stood to see Daniel coming to the door. By his clothing, she knew Professor Daniel was here, and he carried a brown paper bag and a tray with two coffees.

He smiled when he saw her and kissed her cheek when he stopped at her side. “Hello, Mia. You look lovely.”

“Hello, Daniel.” She wasn’t sure what to say to him. Her mind just went blank where seeing him used to fire her imagination.

“I thought I’d come with breakfast.”

“I’ve already... Wait, no, I haven’t eaten. That would be nice.”

He held up the bag. “Mandrel’s oatmeal pancakes with maple syrup.”

“My favorite.” She took a coffee when he held the tray out to her.