Lavender Beach (12 page)

“I venture there’s a story about how this chopper ended up here.”

“The only guy who knows for sure is dead. But could you fly it?”

She sent him a withering stare. “Is the sky blue? The controls in this thing are straight forward, I’d even say simple.” Her hand roamed to the bubble. “And look at this, no cracks in the cockpit, not one. In her time, she provided an excellent view for reconnaissance or search and rescue.”

“So what do you think? Is it worth fixing up?”

“Oh yeah, I’m in. You get a price for me and I’ll see if I can raise the cash.”

They started for the car and Eastlyn looked around at the rest of the junk. She stopped to stare at the broken parts of a marquee. “So when does this movie theater reopen in town? I thought you said they planned to use the sign from the old theater?”

“That was the plan. It’s scheduled to open the end of summer. June through August the town has what they call movie nights in the park. Thane thought it best if they didn’t compete with that and let the people enjoy their summer evenings in an old-fashioned venue, sitting on the grass. They’ve already gutted the insides though and begun the refurbishing. The project’s pretty far along. It put a lot of the locals back to work, which I’m thinking was part of the idea.”

“But they didn’t use the old sign?”

“They couldn’t. They tried to salvage the signboard but found it was in no shape to repurpose. Some months back Thane and Isabella started scratching their heads to figure out what to do. They decided to tear the sign apart, rewire it with new lighting and rename it using all new neon.”

“Well, I’ve seen the sign in town, passed by it five dozen times, hoping it would be open by now. You know, for someplace to hang out. I like movies. I kind of like the name they settled on.”

“Yeah, The Driftwood works. I think everyone is disappointed it hasn’t opened yet. I’m told that even though Thane and Isabella opted for a new sign, they still intend to keep the retro look, inside and out. We’re all waiting for the grand unveiling.”

By the time she reached the Mustang, she’d thought of something she wanted to clear up. “So Coop, who owns all this stuff? Where does the money go exactly? Who gets the profits from the sales?”

“Technically the town owns the place. And actually the city council voted to set aside any proceeds to go solely to the school fund with the hope that one day we’ll be able to expand and open up a middle school.”

Eastlyn smiled. “I like that about this town, optimistic enough that they can sell a bunch of junk sitting around a barn gathering cobwebs and seven layers of dust to benefit the kids.”

“Those who knew Cleef think he’d be pleased knowing all this stuff out here might help keep the school going, maybe even get enough to support opening a junior high.”

“Ever thought about holding an auction for the big ticket items? Although I’d appreciate it if you’d keep from making that particular suggestion until I get my hands on the Bell helicopter.”

Coop grinned. “Someone already came up with that idea. But look around you. It would take a massive amount of organization, someone would have to go through every single piece of machinery and catalogue it. Maybe one day, the right person will come along with enough time to do that. But for now, I don’t see it happening.”

“It’s a shame the old guy had to die.” She spread her arms out wide, turned a circle. “Just look, after years of collecting all this, probably driving for miles to pick it up and going to the trouble of hauling it back here, this is his legacy. It makes you wonder about things.”

“It often makes me wonder how I’ll be remembered, what legacy I’ll leave. Makes me want to do better.”

“Good point. Because I guess we could all do so much better.”

To break the melancholy atmosphere, Cooper asked, “So what would you like to do now?”

“What are my choices?”

“We could take a tour of the local Chumash Museum. It’s something River’s worked really hard getting open, something the town’s really proud of.”

“Okay. I’d also like to take a look at the mammals inside the Fanning Marine Rescue Center. Cord’s been bugging me to do that since I got here. After that, I’ll show you around the lighthouse.”

It never occurred to Coop to mention that he’d already been up to the cliff at least a dozen times already. But the truth was, he’d never been up there with her.

At the moment, that was all that mattered.

For the rest
of that day, Cooper showed off all that Pelican Pointe had to offer in the way of things to do.

Their first stop was the museum where they spent two hours picking their way past glass cases that held cultural artifacts—hunting tools, assorted beaded necklaces, cookware. They studied exhibits, even watched a video demonstration, a vivid depiction that showed how the Chumash had lived for thousands of years along the same stretch of beach they all enjoyed now.

“Brent’s wife dug all this stuff up out of the ground?” Eastlyn asked as she examined a series of rudimentary bowls and eating utensils. “What a fascinating job to have, uncovering all these old things.”

“The dig in town is what originally brought her to the area,” Cooper explained. “All this is what River’s team excavated from the site.”

She stared at the large canoe called a tomol that hung from the rafters down to eye level. “They used these things to paddle across the bay and into the ocean to fish.”

“Which reminds me I’m getting hungry. How about we go across the street to Perry Altman’s restaurant for lunch?”

She looked down at her jeans, still grimy from their excursion at Cleef’s. “The fancy place with a view of the water? That’d be great but I’m not really dressed for anything so formal.”

She looped her arm through his. “Instead of eating inside, it’s a pretty day, why don’t we take advantage of that and pick up food and eat at the lighthouse?”

“Now you’re talking. We could buy sandwich fixins at Murphy’s, grab a nice bottle of wine if you don’t consider it too early in the day.”

“Soft drinks might be the way to go.”

“Soda it is. So what will it be? Greasy cheeseburgers-to-go at the diner, or head to Murphy’s for ham and cheese? What’s your pleasure?”

Arm in arm, they strolled out of the museum and headed toward the car.

After sniffing the air, Eastlyn decided, “I’m in the mood for that greasy hamburger and a chocolate malt.”

“Looks like it’s the Hilltop Diner then. We should really get pie. Margie makes a mighty fine apple pie. And it is Sunday.”

“What does Sunday have to do with pie?”

“No Sunday should pass without indulging in fruit-filled pastry.”

“Words to live by.”

They drove the two blocks to Main Street to find the diner almost empty. Despite the lack of customers, Tim McGraw’s sexy voice spun from the Wurlitzer jukebox singing his praises for southern girls.

The place looked exactly like what it was—a retro malt shop that had been part of the town for almost five decades. It had a stained black-and-white-checkered linoleum floor, a black marble-looking counter, red barstools that had seen better days, but not since Kennedy had been in office.

The owner, Margie Rosterman, greeted them with menus but Cooper waved her off. “We know what we want. Give us two of Max’s biggest cheeseburgers with all the trimmings and a basket of fries. Throw in two chocolate malts and two slices of your apple pie to go and a couple of Cokes.”

“Sounds like you two kids worked up an appetite,” Margie said with a wink. She stood almost six feet tall with flaming red hair she’d recently tinted, pale skin with a ton of freckles, and big blue eyes. Margie did her best to make people believe she was tough as nails. But everyone in town knew the woman had a heart of gold. She often took a chance on hiring waitresses with little experience and would give them multiple chances until they proved her wrong. It was common knowledge she and her cook, Max Bingham, had been together for years but had never bothered to make it official.

“We decided to take our food and eat up on the cliff,” Eastlyn explained, not knowing why she felt the need to set the scene for anyone else.

“You picked a pretty day for it.” Margie yelled out the order to Max and turned back to the counter to take Cooper’s money. Margie counted out his change and turned to Eastlyn. “Pacific storm’s predicted for the middle of the week. Hope you’re done with the plowing by then. Max and I are chomping at the bit to get that call that tells us it’s time to plant the seeds. Haven’t been this excited about anything since we went to Sissy Carr’s funeral just so we could make sure she was dead.”

Cooper glanced at Eastlyn and winked. “By way of explanation, Sissy Carr was the small town hussy who finally got her comeuppance when they found her drowned in the bay.”

“Ah. Translation appreciated for the benefit of the newcomer.” Eastlyn turned to Margie, snaked out a laugh. “Isabella is in charge of eager volunteers. So any day now you should expect the call.”

“That’s us, we’re ready and willing. Isabella just has to say the word. Imagine, coming up with the idea to grow our own food out of that piece of land that’s sat vacant for years before Logan came to fix it up. That’s one renovation that’s been good for the whole town.”

“I agree,” Eastlyn said, noting Margie’s type of excitement seemed to prevail throughout town. “I’d also like to go on record as saying Max makes the best burgers. I’ve been all over and his are, by far, cooked to perfection every time.”

Margie beamed, relayed the praise to her significant other by hollering it at the top of her voice. “Hear that, Max. You have a fan.”

From the long window into the kitchen, Max waved his spatula in Eastlyn’s direction and yelled just as loud as Margie had, “The girl knows good food.”

“I never got that kind of reaction when I heaped compliments on Max for his meatloaf,” Cooper pointed out. “I’ve traveled all over, too, you know. And I’ve been here a hundred times more than Eastlyn.”

Margie waved a hand in Cooper’s direction. “We’re used to you. I’ve come to appreciate the newcomers. They breathe new life into this town. Just look at what Nick’s done. New ideas, new business, and new people, add in the school reopening and it does wonders for my bank account.”

“As long as it helps your bottom line.” Eastlyn gave the owner a strange look before trading glances with Cooper.

After Margie bagged up their food order, they left for the lighthouse. But when Cooper started to take a blanket out of the trunk of the car, Eastlyn stopped him.

“I think I’ll forego sitting on the ground and…”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s no big deal.” Carrying the sack with the burgers, she pointed to a bench near the cliff. “I’ll opt for the view over the water.” She started toward what she thought of as the scenic observation point and said over her shoulder, “By the way, do you have any idea what this inscription means?”

“What inscription?”

Eastlyn stood in front of a raised base made from the same stone that matched the keeper’s cottage. On top of the platform sat a five-foot-long garden bench with a black and gold plaque screwed into the back.

She stepped up on the six-inch high foundation to read the words out loud: “In memory of Isabella Rialto, whose spirit lives on within those who loved her.”

“Beats me. But how can it read ‘in memory’ when Isabella is alive and married to Thane Delacourt?”

Eastlyn took out a burger, handed one off to Cooper. Peeling back the wrapper on hers, she dug in but she couldn’t let go of her curiosity. “That’s the same thing I thought the first time I read it. Why would you erect a memorial to yourself, especially since you’re alive? I didn’t want to ask and make it appear like I was a nosy busybody, but…it’s odd, don’t you think?”

Cooper reached in the bag and dug out a French fry. “It’s gotta be another Isabella.”

“What are the odds of that? That a woman we know as Isabella puts a bench here dedicated to someone else with the same name? I wonder… You did say Isabella had a run-in with an ex. Maybe it has something to do with that?”

“We should find out. Only way to know for sure is to ask the source. That’s your department.”

“Why me? You’ve been in town longer. Why couldn’t you utilize the handy rumor mill in town and dig deeper?”

“Because whatever we found out would probably be more speculation than fact. And I don’t really know Isabella that well to open up a dialogue about why she put the bench here. You work for her, see her every day. You’re the logical choice.”

“How do I bring it up in conversation?”

“You’ll find a way. I do know Isabella special-ordered this thing from Ferguson’s Hardware. I just thought she chose to place it here because of the scenic overhang. You know, so people could sit and look out to sea like we are now. I didn’t even know about the inscription.”

Eastlyn looked out over the water. “It’s a pretty spot, maybe my favorite in the entire town. This is where I’d like to plant lavender. I have to run it by Isabella first though. What I’d do is spread the seedlings along here to set this section apart from the rest. And over there by the lighthouse, I’d like to make that the strawberry patch, a pick-your-own-basket type deal.”