Sweetheart Cottage (Cranberry Bay #1) (2 page)

Slowly, Rylee stepped out of the car as Raisin gave a sharp bark in the backseat. “It’s okay, boy,” Rylee said to Raisin. She pressed her hands against the back of the car and leaned against it, trying to steady herself. The wet car soaked the back of her bare legs, but she barely felt it. Rain fell off her head and danced onto the gravel below her feet.

“Bryan,” Rylee whispered. Her insides quivered from something that reached into her far deeper than the cold rain and wind. She didn’t dare look at his hand to see the gold wedding band that claimed him as belonging to someone else. She tried to steady herself. She’d known it was a possibility to run into Bryan; Cranberry Bay wasn’t that big. But nothing could have prepared her heart for the moment when it actually happened.

Bryan’s eyes swept over her face, down her soaking wet cardigan, and to her red painted toenails peeking from the tips of her sandals. “Rylee?” A shadow flashed across his face. “I thought it was you…but I didn’t…” Suddenly he cleared his throat. “Pop the trunk, and I’ll get that spare on for you.”

Rylee nodded and slipped into the driver’s seat. She leaned down and lifted the trunk latch. Her hands shook as the old feelings for Bryan rushed through her.

Bryan rolled under beside the car and positioned the spare tire in place. He lifted the tire onto the axle and gave it a hard twist, ensuring it was snug. A heavy lock of wet hair fell to his forehead, and he brushed it aside. Memories poured through his mind. Rylee sitting on the front porch swing, painting her toes red, and smiling at him. Rylee and her soft mouth that he couldn’t stop kissing. Rylee, who had told him she loved him and promised to marry him, but left the next day, leaving his heart in pieces.

When the spare was firmly in place, Bryan rolled out from under the car. He walked to the driver’s side.

Rylee rolled down the window, and he cleared his throat. “That should hold you until you get into Cranberry Bay. I’m sorry about your grandmother. Cranberry Bay will miss her.”

“Thank you,” Rylee said. “I always planned to return to see her. But I kept putting it off, things came up…” Rylee’s voice softened to barely a whisper.

“Yes, well…” Bryan shifted and looked away from her and into the tall evergreens. Rain bounced off his shoulders and landed on the ground with soft splats. He wasn’t sure if he was angry with himself for believing Rylee’s words now or for the years he held on to the foolish belief that she’d come back to him and Cranberry Bay. He had tried everything he could to forget her, including marrying someone he didn’t love. Nothing had worked.

“I imagine you won’t find Cranberry Bay any different.” Bryan repeatedly opened and closed his left hand. He quickly pocketed his hand and ran his finger over his empty ring finger. Nothing had changed in Cranberry Bay over the last ten years. Jobs were scarce and limited to clamming, forestry, and dairy farming. Summer tourists streamed past on the freeway, stopping only to grab an iced coffee or browse the antique shop before heading into the popular surrounding beach towns. Cranberry Bay was a stop for lunch on the way to somewhere else.

“I’m not planning to stay long. I’ll clean out the house, sell it, and then I’m moving to San Diego,” Rylee said firmly.

Bryan couldn’t help but smile, faintly. Rylee was still the same, making plans for her life to run according to a set schedule. It’d been one of the things he loved about her. Every summer, she outlined a plan of hikes she wanted to take, crafts she wanted to make, and meals she wanted to cook. By the end of the summer, her plan was always complete. The only summer it hadn’t been was the summer they fell in love. Instead of working through her plan, they’d spent long lazy days floating on the river and evenings exploring each other in the small river cottage. He often teased her about her summer plan, and she only smiled and said sometimes plans changed. He had loved nothing better than knowing he was a part of that plan-changing summer. If only it could have been forever.

“Thank you for fixing the tire.” Rylee raised her eyes and met Bryan’s. His heart pounded in his chest, the same way it always had when she looked at him, making him believe he had more to offer than he ever believed in himself. She’d always had that ability. A way to look at him or touch his arm and convince him he could do anything.

“Rylee…” Bryan cleared his throat. There was so much he wanted to say to her. But a gust of wind blew into the trees above their head, and a large branch cracked. “Cranberry Bay is about ten-miles from here. Stay straight on the highway and I’ll follow you into Cranberry Bay. The storm is pretty bad.”

“Thank you,” Rylee said and rolled up her window.

Slowly, she pulled out of the gravel and onto the highway.

Bryan strode to his truck and slipped inside. His pulse raced as a large tree branch dropped to the ground where Rylee’s car had been parked. He put his truck in gear and pulled onto the highway. Mountain storms in the fall were not things to play with. His younger brother, Adam, worked as a forest ranger and had more than one harrowing story about a hiker who’d gotten trapped by falling trees.

Bryan flipped off the mystery audiobook he had been listening to and turned the station to rock. The heavy drumbeat filled his ears as he followed Rylee’s car down the mountain highway. One of Rylee’s taillights flickered and turned off. He made a mental note to fix that for her as soon as possible and hoped Sheriff Anderson was off-duty tonight. The sheriff looked for ways to make money and didn’t think twice of ticketing cars for missing taillights. Bryan had gotten a few tickets himself, but he usually managed to finagle his way out of them by buying a couple rounds of microbrews at the pub.

Slowing to twenty-five, Bryan drove past the river marina in the gloom. A few fishing boats were tethered to the docks, and the pub lights glowed as the music of one of the popular beach bands poured through the open doors. They spent the off-season practicing new songs at the pub. Bryan sometimes grabbed his own guitar and joined in. He liked spending the long, dark, rainy evenings with many of the men whom he had known all his life.

Across from the marina, the city park overlooked the bay, and wooden benches dripped with rain. Heavy dark leaves covered the grass. In the fading light, the chipped paint on the buildings and the overgrown grass wasn’t noticeable. Bryan worked with a crew of high school kids to keep things tidy. The teens earned volunteer credits, and the city enjoyed a well-kept summer park. Once school started, he did the job with occasional help from a teen on a Saturday.

Ahead of him, Rylee made a left on Elm Street and her taillight faded out of sight. Bryan turned right, two streets away from Rylee’s grandmother’s house, and continued past the town’s two-story, brick elementary school and the gymnasium in the playground that his Dad had helped build years ago. The PTA never had funding to replace the old set with a new one, and a couple of the swings were missing. Half a block past the playground, Bryan turned left onto an asphalt-paved driveway. He slowly pulled up behind the Jeep Grand Cherokee belonging to his older brother, Sawyer, and the four-door black Honda CRV belonging to his younger brother, Adam. The garage door stood open, and his Mom’s small, silver Toyota was nestled inside beside a shelving unit filled with plastic bins of Christmas decorations.

The home was like the other two-story Craftsman homes on the street. When he was eleven, Dad hired a couple guys to build a dormer on the back. Dad joked about never being able to get the loan paid off before he retired, but six months after the dormer was finished, Dad suddenly passed away of a heart attack. His generous life-insurance policy not only paid off the dormer but also the rest of the mortgage, giving Rebecca Shuster and her two boys and her twins a place to call home, worry-free.

Bryan kicked aside large piles of leaves as he headed up the walkway. The gingham living room curtains stood open, and golden lamplight blazed into the dark and rainy night. A steady trail of water drained off the roof into a large puddle. He made a mental note to stop by and check the gutter tomorrow. A large pine tree hung over the house and dropped needles onto the roof. The needles easily clogged the gutters and caused damage to the cedar siding if left unchecked.

A glowing carved pumpkin sat on the front porch step, and Bryan smiled. Yesterday, when he stopped by to see about a leaky toilet in the downstairs bathroom, the pumpkin hadn’t been carved. Tonight, candlelight shone from a stenciled nose, mouth, and pair of lopsided eyes. A plastic carving tool lay across the front porch by the pumpkin. Bryan leaned down and picked up the knife.

He opened the front door, and the smell of pot roast wafted through the room, which was painted bright yellow. A fire crackled in the fireplace, and Adam leaned against the stone mantel.

“We were ready to eat without you.” Adam’s dark, thick heavy hair lay across his forehead in a mass of curls. He wore dark jeans and a flannel shirt, unbuttoned three buttons so his white undershirt poked through. He’d kicked off his usual heavy boots, and his large feet in black-and-gray flannel socks shifted on the hardwood floor.

“Sorry I’m late.” Bryan said. “It was a long trip back from Portland.”

Sawyer uncrossed his legs and stood up from a plush, leather reclining chair. He drained the last of his beer and nodded to Brian. “There are more drinks in the fridge.”

“Thanks,” Bryan said. “I think I’ll go see if Mom needs any help.” Sawyer had never been a big drinker, but ever since his beloved wife had died of cancer, he had a habit of making sure there was enough alcohol flowing to keep the pain away.

It didn’t surprise Bryan to find both his brothers lounging in the living room while Mom cooked dinner. After Dad died, each brother played a different part in the family. He helped Mom in the house. Sawyer contributed money when Mom needed a little extra, and Adam helped by driving Mom the hour-and-a-half over the mountains to Portland for appointments and shopping trips to purchase bulk household items. It was unspoken between the three of them that they would take care of Mom.

Bryan kicked off his mud-splattered shoes and left them lying at the front door with Adam’s work boots. A small pair of pink tennis shoes lay, upside down, on top of Sawyer’s dress shoes. He smiled at his niece Lauren’s haphazard way of making sure her Dad didn’t forget to take her home, too. Not that Sawyer had any thought of leaving his daughter behind. He loved her fiercely and would do anything for his little girl.

Bryan’s socked feet padded against the hardwood floor as he passed the wall in the hallway filled with family photos. Bryan’s left shoulder brushed against a small gold frame and tilted the picture. In the picture, he and his twin sister, Lisa, stood by a green canoe that was alongside a river. Lisa was the only one of the Shuster siblings who had left Cranberry Bay. She had married a fisherman from Seattle and took a job working as a public relations director at a children’s hospital. A few years into the marriage, Frank died at sea during a fishing trip to Alaska, leaving Lisa to raise their daughter, Maddie. She often declined invitations to come home at the holidays, saying she was needed too much by the families at the hospital. Bryan understood Lisa’s commitment to her work, but he missed his twin and niece and wished they lived closer.

Bryan averted his eyes from the last picture on the wall. A framed photo of Dad and his sister and brothers gathered in a large circle around a canoe. Bryan stood a small distance away from all of them with a scowl on his face. The camping trip had been only one more time he didn’t please Dad.

Bryan headed into the kitchen where Mom chopped plump tomatoes at a wooden cutting board beside the sink. Lauren perched on a stool and dropped pieces of lettuce into salad bowls. She wore jeans and a blue sweatshirt with Eagles stenciled across the front. Clasped in a high ponytail, her curly blonde hair swung with every move.

“Let me do that, Mom.” Bryan stepped up behind her and took the knife out of her hands. “We’ll finish up, right Lauren?”

Lauren hopped down from the stool. She pushed her bangs out of her eyes, but they flopped back down in the same place again. “Grandma let me carve the pumpkin today.”

“I know.” Bryan held up the plastic knife. “You left the knife on the porch.”

“Sorry!” Lauren jumped over and yanked the utensil from Bryan’s hand. She twirled across the kitchen, opened the pantry door, and dropped it into the trash can.

Rebecca grabbed a red-and-blue hot pad, and, opening the oven, pulled out the steaming pot roast. She carried it to the counter and set it on a hot plate. “I think we’re all set.” Rebecca wiped her hands on an orange-and-black ruffled apron. She nodded toward the dining room table, set with the family’s blue-and-white dinnerware set.

“Smells great.” Sawyer strolled into the kitchen and ruffled his daughter’s hair. “Time to put the ice in the glasses,” he instructed her.

Obediently, Lauren opened the lower freezer drawer and pulled out the bin of ice. She grabbed a set of plastic tongs and headed into the dining room.

Sawyer dropped his empty bottle of beer into the recycling bin by the backdoor and looked into the dark backyard. “How’s business, Bryan?” Sawyer whirled around, and his brown eyes met Bryan’s. “Sold any houses yet?”

“I’m working on it.” Bryan fisted his hands. Eight years ago, Sawyer had gotten a lucky break when he was hired to be the developer of a premier community at the beach. The houses sold quickly, but instead of continuing to buy property, Sawyer bought ten acres on the outskirts of town and built his own home. During the housing crash, Sawyer had money in the bank and nothing in land. While developers around him fell, Sawyer slowly bought up property at rock bottom prices. Now, he owned what seemed like half the county and had accounts large enough to buy another country estate, something he never stopped reminding Bryan, who hadn’t been as lucky as his older brother in business.

Rebecca reached behind her and untied her apron. “Jack mentioned he’s handling Ellen Harper’s estate for her granddaughter, Rylee. I suspect they will need a real estate agent for the sale.”

She smiled at Bryan. Jack Perkins had been a longtime family friend. A widow for the last five years, he and Rebecca spent more and more time together. Both of them waved off all discussion of romance.

“Rylee Harper.” Sawyer leaned against the counter. He crossed his arms over his chest and studied Bryan. “Kinda remember you wanted to marry her…”

“Yes.” Bryan grabbed a plate, loaded it with roast beef, and carried it to the table. “Childhood fantasy.” He pulled out a chair and sat down beside Adam, hoping Sawyer would let the conversation drop.

“She might have made the best decision to leave Cranberry Bay.” Sawyer moved a heavy oak chair, straightening the paisley cushion. He sat down opposite him. “The School Board is talking about closing the elementary school and sending the kids to the coast elementary, twenty miles away.”