Why had Mom even hooked up with Gary Phelps? They were complete opposites. Gary was a taciturn businessman who liked to hunt in his spare time. Her mother was a flower-child free spirit who’d only settled in Lost Harbor because she’d gotten pregnant with Jessica.
Stability had never been Destiny Dixon’s strong point. Instead of taking her from place to place, her mother’s restlessness sent her from boyfriend to boyfriend. She’d finally married one of them—Jessica’s least favorite, unfortunately. Gary had had his eye on Sweet Harbor Bakery from the very beginning.
But Jessica had been running the place ever since she was eighteen and Destiny had left for a retreat in Big Sur. Following the advice of Maya’s father, Harris, who was virtually her second father, she’d gotten her mother to sign over part ownership of Sweet Harbor. Any sale would have to be agreed to by both of them.
At least, that was her interpretation of the “contract,” which was written on a sheet of expensive watercolor paper. Jessica had added flowers and butterflies to it to match the menu chalkboard. She assumed it was legally binding, or else Gary wouldn’t be pushing for her signature.
But she hadn’t yet consulted with a lawyer. She’d been hoping the whole thing would go away. Selling Sweet Harbor felt like such an impossible decision. She’d been here literally her entire life. It was her home, her work, her nest, her cocoon, her comfort zone, her haven.
What would Harris Badger do? He always gave good advice. He’d probably say talk to a lawyer.
She picked up her phone and dialed her friend Kate Robinson’s number. Kate was a lawyer who had recently moved back to Lost Harbor and fallen in love with Darius Boone, the so-called “hottie fire chief.” Right now she was wrapped up in the peony harvest at her grandmother’s farm, so Jessica hated to bother her.
She got Kate’s voicemail, of course. She was probably out snipping stems in the peony fields. “Hi Kate, it’s Jess, can you call me when you get a chance? It’s a legal-ish thing, so if I have to make an official appointment just let me know. And if you want to wait until the harvest is over—“
Her phone beeped as another call came in—this one from Maya.
“Gotta go, the police chief’s calling. I just love saying that. Hey, we should all hang out soon. Call me!”
She switched over to the other line. “Hey Maya. I was just leaving a message for—“
“Dad’s in the hospital.”
She froze. Not Harris. Town icon, retired Coast Guard, beloved father figure.
Finally she found her voice. “What happened?”
“I don’t know exactly. I just got the call.” Maya barely sounded like herself. All her usual calm was gone, replaced by freaked-out panic. “I’m headed there now. Can you do me a favor?”
“Anything.”
“I can’t reach Ethan James and I have a meeting with him. Can’t even leave a message on his phone. Can you let him know I can’t make it?”
“That’s it? What else? There’s got to be something else—“
“Yeah … I don’t know, I can’t think right now.” The sound of a horn honking interrupted her.
Jessica imagined her swerving across Lost Harbor’s only two-lane street and running one of the two stoplights in town.
“You go, Maya. Get off the phone and take care of your dad.”
‘Thanks Jess. Get out of the way!” She was yelling as Jessica ended the call.
Jessica sent a quick blessing to both Maya and Harris. She held the image of the gentle man in her heart as she did so. Harris was so many things—a wonderful fiddle player, a knitter, a kind father, a man who’d raised his daughter alone after his wife left them. He’d always made room for Jessica at their home. With her mother’s constant chaos, with boyfriends and projects coming and going, the Badger household had always been a safe haven. And now he was in the hospital and Maya sounded terrified.
She ran out of the office and dashed up the stairs to Ethan’s room, where she knocked for a full minute before he answered.
He did so bare-chested, with a towel knotted around his hips and a bemused expression on his face.
She peered at him. “Is that a bruise on your cheekbone?”
“Yes, because apparently you can’t have a hot shower in this town without wrestling an angry fisherman for it.”
“Oh.” Her hand flew to her mouth. The news about Harris Badger had made her completely forget about the prank she’d pulled on Ethan. “Are you okay?”
“Oh sure. We made up. Even got invited to the Olde Salt for happy hour.”
Whew. At least she hadn’t caused a catastrophe with her silly prank. “You should totally go. You’ll hear some crazy stories with that crew.”
“I have a few stories to tell myself. Like the time someone gave Old Crow’s shower away to some out-of-town stranger.”
She folded her lips together, wondering if he saw any humor in the situation at all. “He must have been in quite a mood. He’s not always like that. Is, uh, is he okay?”
“If you don’t count the fishhook scar in his gut. Or the old knife wound on his neck, or the broken rib that never healed right. I got to see those for myself. But he has no new wounds. I can’t vouch for the state of his liver. Probably not good. Won’t keep him from the Olde Salt, of course.”
She let out a breath of relief. Her intention had been to engineer a lighthearted mistaken crossing of the paths in the bathroom, not a High Noon showdown. “I’m glad you two worked it out. He’s a good person, once you get past his crusty exterior.”
“You mean the ‘crusty’ part literally, I assume. Because I can confirm.”
She shuddered lightly. “I sincerely apologize.” She wondered if there was anything she could do to disable his access to Yelp or TripAdvisor. “How about a free breakfast, on the house?”
“Isn’t that included with the voucher?”
Right. Darn, she’d really screwed up with her petty desire for revenge. “Yes. It is. Well, I’m sure we can find a way to make it up to you. Perhaps a guided beach tour or a fresh salmon. Anyway, I’m actually here with a message from Maya. She’s been trying to reach you. She has to cancel your meeting tonight.”
His smile dropped. “What happened?”
“That’s for her to say. I’m just the messenger here.”
He groaned and rubbed at the back of his neck. “Why is nothing going right with this trip?”
“I don’t know, but this does free you up for happy hour at the Olde Salt. Tell Toni that your drinks are on me.” Toni, the bartender, was another of her good friends. They traded drinks for muffins on a regular basis.
“That’s nice, but I don’t drink.”
A private investigator who didn’t drink? That sounded unlikely, unless…
“Ahh,” she said. “I understand. We do have meetings here in Lost Harbor. I can direct you to—“
“I’m not an alcoholic.” With an irritated look, he adjusted the towel around his hips. “Don’t your extra-intuitive super senses tell you that?”
It was getting harder to keep her gaze on his face instead of his bare chest. She needed to get out of here—to get to the hospital and lend whatever support she could to Maya. Why was she lingering here with this grouchy bear of a customer?