The Chesapeake Diaries Series 7-Book Bundle: Coming HOme, Home Again, Almost Home, Hometown Girl, Home for the Summer, The Long Way Home, At the River's Edge (236 page)

“Why?”

“Because I’m curious, that’s why. And because I don’t know when I’ll get another chance.”

Jesse sighed and followed his sister back through the dining area and waited outside while she locked the front door.

“It’s probably as big a mess up there as it is down here,” he muttered.

“Maybe,” she nodded. “But you have a responsibility to your client. She’s depending on you to keep an eye on her property. What if there was an electrical fire …”

“The electricity has been turned off.”

“Lightning,” she said as she rounded the corner of the building. “Could always be lightning, this close to the water.”

“You’re grabbing at straws.”

Jesse followed her up the stairs that led to the second floor and brushed her aside when her attempts to unlock the door failed.

“Let me try.” He jiggled the key and pushed, and the door opened.

“Thanks.” Sophie walked past him into a large room that had windows on three sides. “Wow. Living room–dining room combo. I like it.”

“You have to be kidding. This place is pathetic.”

“It’s a great space and it has great light,” she pointed out. “And the kitchen … well, it’s okay, I guess.” She fixed the beam of light on the fridge and the stove, opening, then closing the doors. “Of course, there
is
a restaurant right downstairs.”

She opened one of two closed doors and glanced inside.

“Bathroom. Shower and a tub.”

On to the other closed room. “Oh, this would make a really nice bedroom. Big windows on the side and across the back, lots of light. Great view of the river.”

“And like the first floor, probably infested with all sorts of living things you wouldn’t want to share your space with.”

Sophie laughed. “Oh, c’mon, Jess, it’s a really good apartment. Spacious, airy, high ceilings …”

“Old everything here—pipes, wiring. I’ll bet nothing in this building is up to code. And it’s filthy, and I’ll bet there’s mold and that everything in the kitchen needs to be replaced.”

“Exterminators. Plumber. Electrician. Lots of water and household cleaners.” She counted them off one by one.

“Sophie, this is silly. Unless you’re ready to quit your job and move to St. Dennis, this is a waste of time.”

He leaned against the door that opened to the stairwell. “Are you ready to move to St. Dennis?”

She shook her head no.

“Then what’s the point?”

“I wanted to see what was here. I wanted to see if it was a place I could make work for me,
if
I decided that was what I wanted to do. And
if
it ever came up for sale.”

She pulled the key from her pocket and walked outside. From the top of the stairs, she looked around. The lot next door was completely surrounded by a chain-link fence and was even bigger than she’d originally thought, the parcel being not only longer, but wider as well.

“What do you suppose that’s being used for?” Sophie pointed to the adjacent property.

“Doesn’t look like it’s being used for anything,” he noted. “Just like everything else out this way. Except for the bait shop on the other side. You might get some business from the fishermen in the morning—assuming you’re up at four when the boats head out on their first run.”

Through the bare trees across the road, she could see almost as far as the Madison farm.

“You can almost see Brooke’s family farm from here.” She pointed toward the barely visible barn roof.

Jesse leaned on the railing that surrounded the landing and followed her sight line, then nodded. “Yeah, I think that’s the old barn.”

Sophie turned and locked the door.

“This place is pretty isolated, though. Not much traffic, no neighbors at night. I doubt the bait shop stays open too late. And next door, that fenced-in place.” Jesse shrugged. “I don’t know what that is.”

“But as I mentioned, Dallas will be bringing in a lot of people this summer, and if the bait shops gets its permits and dredges for a marina, there will be boats coming and going. And besides, you and Brooke will be living at the farm, so you’ll be right through those trees. Why, we’d practically be neighbors.”

“Please tell me you’re not serious about all this.” He waved a hand to take in the building.

“I’m not serious.” She finished locking the door, then handed him the key before taking off down the steps.

“Why don’t I believe you?”

“Because you have a suspicious mind.”

“The only thing that’s suspicious is the fact that you are barely reacting.”

She smiled and got into the car. He got into the passenger seat and turned to her. “So is your silence your way of conceding that this place is good for nothing but a bulldozer?”

“I am not conceding anything.” She started the car and turned around in the parking lot.

“That’s what I was afraid of.”

“I won’t do anything stupid, Jess. Right now, I just want to feel as if I have some options.” She stopped the car at the edge of the road. “I want to feel as if I can change my life if I decide that’s what I want to do.”

He nodded. “Got it.”

“So don’t waste any more time badgering this witness, okay?”

“I’m not trying to badger you. I want you to think about what you’d be giving up in Ohio. I just want you to be happy.”

“I know.”

“I want you to find as much happiness as I have. If it’s here in St. Dennis for you, as it is for me, so much the better. It would be nice to have you around more, especially since I’m getting married, and Brooke and I are going to want to start a family. I’d like you to be a bigger part of that.”

“Thanks, Jess.” She started to pull out onto the road but paused to allow a pickup pulling a trailer to pass. When the road was clear, she eased onto the macadam and headed back toward Jesse’s house. “I know there are a lot of things to consider. I have a lot to think about.”

For the rest of the day and through the night, it seemed Sophie could think of little else but the way
the restaurant would look all cleaned up. If she bought it, the name wouldn’t be Walsh’s anymore, though she really had no idea what she’d rename the place. The dingy walls and furniture could be painted, the counter and floor refinished, the windows scrubbed clean. The kitchen would need a major overhaul; there was no getting around that. Of course, maybe in the light, things would look better.

Then again, they could look worse.

The one thing Jesse was right about was the need for an exterminator. No way was Sophie going to deal with rodents on her own. Who knew how many generations of mice had taken up residence in the walls? She wasn’t going to be the one to evict them.

One thing she hadn’t shared with her brother was that while the appliances were old, they were top quality from what she could see. With any luck, the fact that they’d sat unused for a few years might not spell doom. Those two old Vulcan ranges could have a lot of miles left on them.

“Top of the line, Vulcan is,” Thomas, the old cook at Shelby’s, often said. “Still good fifty, sixty years, if you don’t abuse them.”

Of course, who was to say the ranges at Walsh’s hadn’t been abused?

And the big refrigeration unit—she’d bet just about anything it was a True. She’d know for sure when she could see it in the light. It might need a new compressor, but there was a good chance it could be revived.

Not that she’d share any of this with her brother. At least not until she had a game plan, which right now, she did not have. She’d been honest with him about that. She wasn’t about to resign from her job without
giving it much thought. It would be a big move, to pull up stakes in Ohio and move here to start something new. She liked thinking about the possibility, but she wasn’t sure that in reality she was ready to take such a leap of faith. No, Jesse needn’t worry that she was going to pull up stakes and leave her law career in Ohio.

At least, not yet.

Chapter 7

“So what’s on your agenda for today?” Jesse packed a stack of yellow pads into his briefcase, which lay open on the coffee table in his sparsely furnished living room. “Where did I put that file … must have left it up on my desk. ’Scuse me …”

He blew past his sister, who stood in the doorway trying to decide whether she had an agenda, and if not, whether she should. One of the nice things about taking time off from your job was that you didn’t have to
have
an agenda if you didn’t want one. For Sophie, a Monday morning that didn’t find her racing out the door with a twenty-pound briefcase in one hand and a pair of shoes in the other had all the makings of a good day.

“Gotta run.” Jesse reappeared, stuffed some folders into the briefcase, closed the lid, and headed for the front door. “Stop in at the office later. I should be back from court by noon.”

“Maybe,” she called after him as he closed the front door behind him.

Sophie sat on the bottom step of the staircase and contemplated the free morning—the free day—that
awaited her. The house was so quiet, she could hear herself breathe. She got up and went into the living room and turned on the television just to hear something other than the exhaling of her lungs. She flipped from one channel to the next until she hit on one of the morning shows, where a well-known, bestselling author was talking about her new book and the movie deal that had just been cemented. The conversation held Sophie’s attention for about three minutes before her mind began to wander and she started to think about what might be going on back at the office.

She pulled out her phone and sent a text to Gwen:

Miss me? What’s hot?

Sophie’s joy at having a free morning began to fade into guilt. She probably should be at work today. She shouldn’t have let her emotions force her into leaving town, tail between her legs, to hide out until the office chatter died down. There were other things she should be doing besides sitting on the arm of her brother’s sofa in his little rented house in this pretty bay town, watching morning television and wondering how to spend a Monday for which she had no plans.

Her phone alerted her to an incoming text.

Damn right. C. & A. are the talk of the office. Everyone’s appalled. Having fun?

Great
. The entire office now knew that she’d been dumped for Anita.

A. can have him. Fun abounds here. Miss you 2.

She turned off the TV and went upstairs to change out of her pj’s and robe. It was cooler this morning, so she pulled a heavy sweater over her jeans and zipped up her ankle boots. After grabbing her bag from the dresser and her jacket from the chair onto which
she’d tossed it yesterday afternoon, she ran down the front steps and into the morning air.

The walk to Charles Street was invigorating, if without destination, and she paused at the corner of Cherry and Charles, debating which way to go. The door to the coffee shop across the street opened and a small group went in. Cuppachino, the town’s coffee shop, drew the locals like a magnet every morning by seven. The best coffee in town, she recalled, so she crossed the street when the light changed and pushed open the red door.

From past visits, Sophie knew to place her order at the counter. While her coffee was being prepared, she glanced around the room. A lively discussion was taking place at the table next to the front window, and Sophie recognized several of the participants, who were too deeply engaged in their conversation to notice her arrival. She knew the white-haired woman seated with her back to the room would be Grace Sinclair, owner of the town’s only newspaper, the
St. Dennis Gazette
. The family of Grace’s late husband had built and still owned the Inn at Sinclair’s Point, the town’s most celebrated inn and destination wedding venue. Next to Grace, Steffie Wyler MacGregor leaned on the back of a chair as she chatted. Steffie was the town’s well-known ice-cream maker whose shop, One Scoop or Two, sat down near the Bay and drew visitors all year long. Next to Steffie was Brooke, and Clay Madison, Brooke’s brother, sat next to her. A woman with black hair pulled into a severe bun sat across from Clay. Sophie couldn’t hear what was being said, but it was obvious that several differences of opinion were being voiced.

The door opened and another customer came in just as Sophie’s coffee was placed on the counter.

“Hey, Sophie. Good morning.”

She turned as Jason Bowers approached the counter.

“Oh, Jason. Hi.” She opened her bag and drew out her wallet.

“I’ve got this one, Josh,” he said to the young man behind the counter.

“Oh,” she said, surprised. “You don’t have to …”

“Hey, it isn’t every morning I get to buy coffee for a beautiful woman. Especially one who appreciates the chaos of an eight-year-old’s basketball game.”

“How can I refuse when you put it that way?” She smiled up at him. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He leaned one elbow on the counter, his body half-turned in her direction. “You’re up and out early. Aren’t you supposed to be on vacation?”

“I needed some good coffee. The stuff my brother has is barely two levels above swill.”

“Best coffee anywhere, right here,” he agreed and placed his order.

Josh reached for a ceramic mug from the array that lined the shelf behind the counter.