Seaside Reunion (21 page)

For the first time, a niggle of doubt undermined Lindsey’s resolve to save the chapel and The Point. Strange, when the tide of opinion now appeared to be turning in her favor.

Genevieve slid her salad in front of her, but as Lindsey picked up her fork and poked at the chicken, her appetite evaporated. What was she supposed to do? Stick with her original plan and fight the development? Or put practicality above principle?

And she was equally confused on the personal front. She’d kissed Nate two days ago, sending a clear message she cared for him. She’d panicked this morning when she’d thought he’d left. Yet she also felt panicked about pursuing a relationship with him. Would he end up in a body bag on some distant battlefield? Would she find herself alone in Chicago, as she had in Sacramento, forced to once again pick up the pieces of her shattered life and start over?

Lindsey closed her eyes and gave up any pretense of eating.

Lord, please show me what to do so I don’t make a mistake with either Nate or The Point that I’ll spend the rest of my life regretting.

“That’s an interesting proposal, Nate. And I’m impressed you came all the way back here to present it in person…at your own expense.”

One side of Clark Gunn’s mouth hitched up as he tacked on the final four words, and Nate flashed him an answering grin. His editor was notoriously tight with the
Tribune’s
money—and his own—an idiosyncrasy often joked about by the reporters and staff. His legendary frugality was, in fact, one of the reasons Nate had made this quick trip. This discussion was too important to be relegated to phone or email, and he wanted Clark to know that.

“So what do you think?” Nate’s pulse tripped into double time, much as it had whenever things got dicey during a dangerous recon assignment in Afghanistan. There’d always been a risk he could be shot down on one of those missions. Just as his proposal could be shot down on this one.

“You sure this is what you want?”

“Yes.”

Clark studied him. “I’m not going to ask, but I’m guessing there’s a woman involved. Someone you’re willing to change your life for after a handful of weeks.”

His boss had been a formidable investigative reporter in his day, with rock-solid intuition. Nate wasn’t surprised the man had come to the correct conclusion. But neither did he intend to provide details.

“There’s more to the story than that.”

“Good to know. You’ve never struck me as the impetuous type. And I’d hate to see you make such a dramatic change only to later regret it.” Clark tapped his pen on the desk. “You sure you wouldn’t rather extend your leave a few weeks, think things through more thoroughly? I could arrange that.”

“Thanks for the offer. But I’ve already thought this through.”

“Okay.” He leaned forward in his chair, set his pen down and propped his elbows on the desk. “I’d rather have what you’re offering than nothing at all. But this isn’t a decision I can make. I need to run it by Frank. He might want to talk to you, too. He’s out until tomorrow afternoon, though. How long are you staying?”

Nate had assumed Clark would need to confer with the managing editor on this. But he hadn’t counted on extending his stay. He had an appointment on Wednesday on the West Coast he didn’t want to postpone.

“I was planning to fly out tonight. I can delay thirty-six hours. No more.”

One of Clark’s bushy gray eyebrows rose. “She must be some woman.” When Nate didn’t respond, the older man chuckled and picked up his ringing phone. “I’ll let you know as soon as I talk to Frank. And we’re running the piece on kids who’ve lost parents next week. It was even better on a second read-through. Should resonate with a lot of people.”

“Thanks.” Nate rose.

“Any more think pieces in the hopper?” He put the phone to his ear.

“Yeah. Depending on what Frank says.”

Lifting a hand in dismissal, Clark barked his last name into the phone. Nate’s cue to leave.

Less than five minutes later, he emerged onto Michigan Avenue. The cacophony of big-city sounds he’d once found energizing, the tall concrete towers that had once seemed glamorous, could no longer compare to the quiet of a small northern California town where the highest thing in sight was a soaring redwood.

He was even immune to the interested glance of a passing twenty-something woman wearing a fashionably short skirt and skinny high heels. Compared to Lindsey? No contest. Clark had been right about the motivation for his proposal.

And if all went well here and in Arcata on Wednesday, the major obstacles Lindsey had to their relationship should be history.

“You’re awful quiet today, Lindy.”

At her father’s comment, Lindsey looked up from the doodles she’d been drawing on a pad of paper to find him lugging a box of canned tomato sauce from the Mercantile’s storeroom.

“I can do that, Dad.”

She started to rise from the stool behind the counter, but he waved her back down. “I’ve been working in the garden all summer, honey. My biceps are in excellent condition.” He set the box down next to the shelf that needed restocking and flexed his muscles.

It was his balance, not his upper body strength, that concerned her. And he seemed to read her mind.

“Sit, Lindy.” He motioned her down. “I’m learning to compensate for this limp. And I’m doing fine. You need to stop worrying. About me, anyway.”

She sank back down. Knowing, from his caveat at the end, that more was coming.

Brushing off his hands, he walked over to her. “So how come you’re so quiet? Thinking about the meeting tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” She planted her elbow on the counter and set her chin in her palm. “Things aren’t quite as clear-cut as they once were. Susan told me several businesses are seriously hurting. Janice might even have to close.”

“I heard a rumor to that effect myself.” He rested his forearms on the opposite side of the counter and leaned forward. “Life’s never simple, is it?”

“No.”

“I guess all we can do is weigh the consequences and then make the best choices we can with the information we have.”

“I don’t know what the best choice is in this case. The long-term consequences aren’t clear.”

“They rarely are.”

He glanced down at the pad in front of her. She followed his gaze, only to discover she’d been doodling hearts. As a flush rose on her neck, she repositioned her hand to cover the telltale scribbles.

To her surprise, he didn’t comment. “Maybe you should see what that developer has to say tomorrow night. You might be able to strike a compromise.”

“I’m not holding my breath.”

“You could pray about it, though. And about that.” He gestured toward the pad in front of her. “Compromise might go a long way toward resolving that situation, too.”

“Aren’t you the one who raised a caution flag about Nate not long ago?” A defensive note crept into her voice.

“I did. But I’ve been doing a fair amount of praying about you two. And I’ve come to believe God brought him here for a reason that includes you.”

She swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat. “I can’t imagine leaving Starfish Bay again. Or you.”

“Love requires give and take, Lindy. And Chicago isn’t that far away by plane. We wouldn’t have to be strangers.”

“But this is home. And much as I loved Mark, not a day passed when I lived in Sacramento that I didn’t miss Starfish Bay.”

“It would always be here, waiting for you to come back.”

“Maybe not the way I remember it.” Her throat tightened, and she stared out the window toward The Point. “Why does life always have to be hard? Just when I was settling back in, Nate shows up and changes everything.”

“Like Mark did.”

“And look how that turned out.”

“Are you sorry you met him?”

She angled back toward her father. “Nate asked me the same thing.”

“And?”

“No. But I’ve learned that the happy endings I used to believe in sometimes only happen in fairy tales.”

“Depends how you define happy ending, I guess. They come in a lot of different forms.” He straightened up and gave her a gentle smile. “When your mom died, everyone called it tragic. They said she was too young. That it wasn’t fair. And for a long time I bought into that and was angry at God for taking her from us too soon. But you know what? The truth of it is, I was blessed to find someone who loved me so deeply. Who gave me a beautiful daughter I cherish. Who graced my life for fifteen glorious years, the memory of which still fills my heart with joy. If you ask me, that’s a happy ending.”

Steadying himself on the counter, he leaned closer and patted the hand she’d placed over the telltale hearts. “Give it to God, Lindy. And don’t rush Him. He’ll send you the guidance you need in His own time.”

As her father limped back over to the box of tomato sauce and began to restock the shelf, Lindsey moved her hand aside and inspected her unconscious doodles. Some of the hearts were single. Alone and separate from everything else. But most overlapped.

A sign—or wishful thinking?

She had no idea.

Maybe her dad was right, though. Maybe she was rushing things. Perhaps, if she gave this a little time, she’d get some clear guidance on what to do about The Point—and Nate.

Unfortunately, waiting for anything—guidance included—had never been her strong suit. Indecision annoyed her. Since she hadn’t a clue about how to solve either of her problems, however, what option did she have? Because she
was
certain about one thing.

She didn’t want to make the wrong decision about either the touchstone from her past or the man who could be her touchstone for tomorrow.

Chapter Fourteen

T
he town hall was packed.

Again.

From her place behind the long table in front, Lindsey scanned the crowd. Unlike the last meeting, which the media had ignored, this one had attracted the attention of several local and San Francisco TV stations and newspapers, as well as a network affiliate. Shoulder-held minicams were already panning the room for crowd shots as residents settled into their chairs, and reporters with pens poised over their notebooks had claimed first-row seats.

Louis Mattson was there, too, along with a couple of his colleagues. They were seated off to one side, conferring quietly.

The only person she didn’t see was Nate. As far as she knew, he still hadn’t returned from Chicago.

Maybe he wasn’t coming back, despite what he’d told the sisters.

She didn’t want to believe that, but perhaps, once back in familiar territory, he’d decided that while it had been nice to reconnect with his childhood friend, there wasn’t a place in his life for her, after all. And how could she blame him? Except for that one kiss, she hadn’t given him much encouragement. For all she knew, he was already planning his next overseas assignm—

Susan banged the gavel on the table, and Lindsey jumped. “This meeting is called to order.”

As the mayor welcomed everyone, then introduced Louis Mattson, Lindsey forced herself to focus. The fate of Starfish Bay Chapel and The Point merited her undivided attention. She couldn’t let personal problems distract her.

Mattson stood and moved in front of the three easels his assistant had placed beside the head table, each one holding a large covered presentation board. His smile was genuine, his stance relaxed. If he was angry about the bad PR Lindsey had helped generate, he gave no indication of it.

The man had polish and class, no doubt about it.

And his attire, like last time, was impeccable. Custom-tailored suit, based on the fit, knife crease in the slacks. Crisp white shirt. A blue and gold silk tie Lindsey was certain cost more than the fanciest outfit in her closet.

“First, thank you, Mayor Peroni, for giving me a chance to return and speak to the residents of Starfish Bay. I must say, I had no idea our proposal would provoke such controversy. But I salute everyone who went to bat to protect what many of you consider an irreplaceable community asset. A touchstone.”

He smiled and slipped one hand in the pocket of his slacks. “If the gentleman who wrote that excellent piece is here tonight, I’d be honored to shake his hand after the meeting. And I’d also be honored to shake the hand of council member Lindsey Collier, who I understand spearheaded the Save the Point campaign.”

When he glanced toward her, Lindsey felt a flush creep up her neck. But again, his demeanor was sincere rather than spiteful or angry.

“All of the publicity that’s been generated, particularly that first article, reminded me of a touchstone in my own life. I was born and raised in rural Missouri, and one of my favorite childhood memories was spending a day in a beautiful spot we called Fern Spring. It was the kind of place families gathered for picnics on summer Sundays, with a deep swimming hole and a tire swing, located in a fern grotto that always seemed to stay cool, even on the hottest August day. And trust me, Missouri can get mighty hot.”

As the man walked toward the center of the room, leaving the easels behind him in the hushed hall, Lindsey found herself caught up in his story—as were the rest of the attendees, based on their rapt expressions.