Wind Chime Café (A Wind Chime Novel) (30 page)

Will thought about all the projects Ryan was going to need help with in the future. Would these guests be the kind of people who’d want to volunteer? Who’d want to spend a few days on the Bay lending a hand for a good cause?

“What about all the land around the inn?” Will asked. “Would you develop it, or leave it as a wildlife sanctuary?”

Blake nodded. “We have no interest in developing that land. It’s ideal for nature walks, bird watching, kayaking tours, interactive classes for the kids—you get the idea.”

“What about the house?”

“The house needs some work,” Blake admitted. “We’d want to put in solar panels and skylights, replace the heating and cooling systems to make them more energy efficient.” He glanced over at the kitchen. “We’d want to update most of the appliances in the kitchen and laundry room, but I don’t see any reason why we couldn’t retain the original structure.”

Will looked back down at the pictures of the eco-resorts. If what Blake was saying was true, he would be able to sell the inn with a clean conscience, knowing the company who bought it was committed to protecting the land and restoring the house he grew up in. It would create dozens of new jobs for the islanders—guides, outreach coordinators, not to mention the service related jobs. Annie would be able to open her fancy French bistro, and Ryan would have a steady stream of volunteers and potential donators.

It was a win every way he looked at it.

But something definitely felt off…

Closing the binder, Will sat back. “If this was the plan all along, why didn’t you mention something about it sooner?”

Blake smiled. “I would have if you’d ever answered the phone.”

Will continued to study the man across the table, wondering again why that smile seemed so familiar. “Why didn’t you have Spencer tell me?”

Blake leaned his arms on the table. “I didn’t share this information with Spencer. My father and I don’t want our competition to know we’re getting into the eco-resort business. Right now, we’re focused on acquiring properties. We want to secure several prime spots before we make a public announcement.”

That was a perfectly reasonable explanation, Will thought, glancing out the window at where Colin was cutting a new piece of wood to replace the porch steps. But it all seemed just a little too good to be true. Sliding the binder across the table, he stood. “I’ll think about it.”

“Keep it.” Blake pushed to his feet. “Look up a few of the resorts online, read the reviews, and see for yourself.” He handed Will his card. “I’ll be around for a few days, if you have any questions.”

Will took the card. “You’re staying in the area?”

Blake nodded. “I want to talk with some of the locals, get a better feel for the place. If you decide to sell, this will be our first eco-resort. I want to make sure we get it right.”

Blake smiled as
he drove away from the inn. He had no intention of opening an eco-resort on the island. It was Spencer who’d initially planted the seed—unknowingly, as the small town realtor probably couldn’t close a seven-figure deal if his life depended on it. But after speaking with him several times over the phone during the past week, Blake had gotten a pretty clear picture of why Will was dragging his feet.

It wasn’t just an emotional attachment to the house as his father had led him to believe; it was that he felt a social responsibility to do what was best for the island. According to Spencer, most of the islanders were opposed to the idea of a resort, including one of Will’s closest childhood friends who’d recently moved back to start an environmental nonprofit on the island.

As soon as he’d heard that, Blake knew he’d found his angle.

An eco-resort.

It was brilliant.

Cruising down the deserted road leading back into town, he took in the soybean fields and pine forests, the rambling marshes and overgrown stretches of grass, weeds and wildflowers. In a few years, this land would be transformed into a gated community of private residences, swimming pools, tennis courts, and a nine-hole golf course.

Morningstar’s management would work closely with the developer to ensure the community met specific standards. In exchange, the residents would gain exclusive access to resort activities, spa services, and weekly discounts to the five-star restaurant.

What was the point in having all that land if you weren’t going to do anything with it?

Blake tapped the brakes as he neared the elementary school. It was three o’clock and school was just letting out for the day. Children were streaming out the front doors, laughing and squealing. The parking lot was filled with parents waiting to pick them up.

A pair of young girls dashed across the street, their colorful backpacks bouncing up and down. The last thing Blake wanted was a kid. But his mother was itching for a grandchild. Even if he closed this deal with the inn today, and his father dropped the threat of cutting him off, his mother would be pushing for him to find a nice girl and get married again as soon as he got home.

He had about as much interest in marriage as he did in having children.

He knew what it was like to be married, to have a clingy wife pestering him about coming home in time for dinner, nagging him about hanging out with his friends at night instead of her, begging for another ten grand for the fertility shots that were
supposed
to help her get pregnant.

His parents blamed him for screwing up the marriage, but Emily was the one who’d pushed him away with her calendar of ovulation cycles and detailed spreadsheets dictating when they should and should not have sex.

Was it any wonder he’d sought pleasure in the arms of other women—ones who still enjoyed having sex rather than turning it into a chore?

He angled the rental car into an open spot on the side of the road lined by a pitiful scattering of shops. He’d booked a room for the night at a hotel in St. Michaels, but there was no point in driving all the way over there just to turn around and come right back. It would only take Will twenty or thirty minutes to check out a few of the companies online to confirm Blake’s story.

As soon as he did, he’d be calling him on his cell, ready to move forward.

Stepping out of the car, Blake crossed the street to the island café, taking in the tacky display of wind chimes on the porch. He might as well grab a cup of coffee while he waited. If he could close this deal within the hour, he could cancel his reservation in St. Michaels and get on the road, heading back toward civilization before dark.

Annie barely glanced
up as the door to the café swung open. “Grab a seat wherever you can find one,” she said, waving the new customer inside and turning back to the table she was serving.

For the second day in a row, the café had been packed since the moment she’d opened the doors. Jess’s mom had dropped by earlier and offered to pick up both girls after school and watch Taylor until Annie could come get her. Grateful for the reprieve, Annie had accepted and promised to bring her a pint of cream of crab soup and a loaf of cheese bread for dinner, but she didn’t want to make a habit of not picking Taylor up from school.

If this pace kept up through the weekend, she would need to start thinking about hiring a waitress.

Tucking her pen and notebook into her apron, she dropped off a few checks and scooped up two empty coffee mugs before heading to the kitchen to pick up more plates from Della. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the man in the suit still standing in the doorway. “There’s a seat here, if you want it,” she said, pointing to an open stool at the counter.

“Annie?”

She froze, almost dropping the mugs. That voice—she would know it anywhere. Turning, slowly, she looked at the man’s face for the first time and the room began to spin.

“It
is
you,” the man said, taking a step toward her.

“Blake,” she managed, vaguely aware that the rest of her customers had gone quiet, that every eye in the room was now focused on the two of them. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here on business.” He took another step toward her. “What are
you
doing here?”

Business.
Annie’s heart stuttered. He must have come to the island to talk to Will about selling the inn. “I live here.”

“You live here?”

She nodded, her gaze darting to the window when she caught the sound of Taylor’s laughter out in the street.

A cold knot of dread formed in the pit of her stomach when she spotted Taylor and Jess climbing the steps to the porch.

What were they doing here?

The screen door opened, the hinges creaking through the silence. Taylor paused in the doorway with Jess peering over her shoulder. “Mom?”

“Hi, sweetie,” Annie said, forcing the words out.

Taylor looked around the crowded room, then back at Annie. “Why’s everybody so quiet?”

Annie spotted Jess’s mom turning up the path to the café. “I thought you were going to Jess’s house after school.”

“We are,” Taylor said, glancing up at Blake. “I wanted to show them the wind chimes I made from the buttons Mrs. Casper gave me.”

Annie’s hands shook as she set the mugs down on the counter. Crossing the room to where they’d hung a set of chimes from the ceiling at the foot of the stairwell, she slipped the delicate cluster of strings and buttons off the hook. “Here,” she said, carrying them over to Taylor. “Why don’t you take these with you and I’ll bring the rest over later when I pick you up.”

“Okay,” Taylor said, frowning as she looked back and forth between Annie and Blake.

Helen Casper climbed the steps to the porch and sent Annie an apologetic smile. “I’ve been trying to catch up with them since they took off outside the school.” She placed her hands on Jess’s shoulders. “Why don’t we head home and see if Grandma’s made any more chocolate chip cookies?”

Jess grabbed Taylor’s hand and tugged her back toward the steps, but Taylor hesitated, taking one last look at Annie and Blake. “Mom?”

“Everything’s fine, sweetie,” Annie said, smoothing her daughter’s hair back from her face. “I’ll come get you in an hour.”

Taylor didn’t look convinced, but she turned and followed her friend. Annie stood in the doorway, her blood rushing in her ears as Blake walked up behind her. She felt his hand on her elbow, guiding her out the door, away from the room full of customers.

“
That’s
your daughter?”

“Yes.”

Blake paused on the top step, staring out at the girl in the street. “How old is she?”

“It’s not what you think…”

“How
old
is she, Annie?”

Annie swallowed. “She’s eight.”

His shocked blue eyes met hers. “Is she
mine
?”

“Yes.”