Mitch leaned across the counter. “I can whip up a Havarti and Muenster grilled cheese with basil pesto on my homemade bread. And I’ve got a killer soup made with fresh mushrooms, thyme, parsley, and bay leaves. Ginger Delavie shared another one of her Julia recipes.”
“You’re getting pretty fancy,” Bennett said. He remembered when Mitch had been a surfing drifter, sleeping in his car and selling coffee on the beach. Bennett had been impressed with the kid’s skills and ambition, so he’d helped him rent the space for Java Beach. Mitch was almost thirty now, and Summer Beach had become his home.
Mitch grinned. “Man, I never thought I’d get so much joy from cooking, but hey, here we are. Want to join me in the kitchen?”
“Sure.” Bennett followed him into the tiny kitchen and eased onto a stool.
“You’re going to like this.” Mitch cut two slices of bread speckled with crunchy sunflower seeds, swiped his homemade pesto over the bread, and tossed the slices onto the grill. He added slices of cheese and adjusted the heat.
Bennett enjoyed watching his friend cook, and the kitchen smelled wonderful. “Heard you sent a guy to the Seabreeze Inn.”
“Yeah?” Mitch frowned and turned up the heat on a pot of soup. “Sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“A guy named Nick. Ivy told me you sent him.”
“Oh, yeah. Slender guy, white streak in his hair. Nick was here for my Thanksgiving dinner.”
“Helping you serve?”
“No, he came in looking for a meal. Word spreads, you know.”
“So you didn’t know him before last week?”
“Nope.” Mitch flipped the sandwich, and the creamy cheese bubbled out, sizzling on the grill. “Look at that,” he said, tapping the top with his spatula. “Perfectly golden.” He rested his spatula. “The guy asked about the old house on the beach, so I told him it was the Seabreeze Inn. Nick seemed nice enough. Smart guy, I think. Just down on his luck, know what I mean?”
“Sure do.” Bennett wondered what Nick was doing at the inn. Perhaps Darla had been right to be concerned.
Mitch ladled mushroom soup from the pot into a bowl, garnished it with a few grilled mushrooms, and handed it to Bennett. “Your first course,” he said with a wink.
Bennett sipped the soup. “Wow, delicious. Perfect on a cool day. Did you surf this morning?” he asked, changing the subject.
“Every day I can. Got a new wetsuit for winter.” Mitch eased the crispy sandwich from the grill onto a cutting board and let it cool a little before slicing through the crusty bread. Cheese oozed slightly from the sides. Mitch waved his knife. “What did I tell you? Perfection.”
While Bennett enjoyed his lunch, Mitch kept an eye on the front counter and shared news and happenings in the village. Mitch overheard a lot at Java Beach, and what he didn’t, Darla did.
Just as Bennett was thinking about Darla, he saw her royal-blue hair bobbing through the doorway. “You’ve got business, Mitch.”
Mitch stepped from the kitchen. “Hey, Darla? How’s my best sweetheart?”
“I need a latte, hon. Guess you’re going to hear that I called Chief Clarkson to check on a guest at the inn. His name’s Nick something-or-other.” She paused, her rhinestone visor glittering. “Why, is that the mayor in the kitchen? I called you, too, Bennett.”
“Hello, Darla,” Bennett said, dabbing his mouth. “Sounds like the Chief took care of the situation.”
Darla sniffed. “We single ladies have to look out for each other. I did the right thing. And I’m going to keep my eye on him.”
Mitch suppressed a smile. “How about some whipped cream on that latte, Darla?”
“You’re such a good boy,” she said, struggling to maintain her ire.
Bennett decided he would have to judge this Nick character for himself. Then again, maybe he was too protective of Ivy—and he had no right to do that. She was a grown woman and was certainly capable of running the inn and deciding who was welcome.
Still, he couldn’t help watching out for her—that was simply in his nature.
Chapter 5
Ivy put her hands on her hips and stared up at the cabinet in the garage. “Now, where were we before our neighbor called the police on a guest?”
Shelly laughed. “Poor Nick, we should probably comp him a night. It’s not often you almost get arrested for meditating. Guess we have to start making nice with Darla again.”
“I have been,” Ivy said. “I was so embarrassed for Nick. But Darla’s not so bad; she’s just bored.” The past summer, she and Darla had forged a truce after Ivy called the paramedics for Darla when she collapsed on the beach. In turn, Darla canceled the lawsuit, and Ivy came to understand her better during the woman’s recovery. However, old habits were hard to change.
Ivy stared up at the cabinet again, which was easily seven feet tall. She flattened her hands against the wooden planks and planted her feet. “Let’s try this again.”
Just then, Bennett pulled into the driveway and got out of his vehicle.
Shelly lifted her chin toward him and grinned. “Maybe we should just cut to the sledgehammer part right now.”
Ivy laughed. She and Shelly had taken down a wall one night that led to the lower level and discovered a cache of stolen artwork. “Not a bad idea. I’m determined to find out what’s behind this cabinet.”
“Whoa, no more sledgehammers, ladies.” Bennett held a hand up. “What do you need help with?”
Ivy leaned against the cabinet. “This thing won’t budge.”
“And why do you want to move it?”
“We saw an old photo album,” Ivy said. “I think this cabinet is covering up a doorway to a storage room.”
“Or maybe it’s a secret passageway,” Shelly said, her eyes glittering with excitement. “Like The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. I loved that book as a kid.”
“Let’s see what we can do to get you to Narnia then.” Bennett shoved the cabinet, but to no avail. “Might be secured to the wall.” He ran his hand around the edges. “I don’t feel any brackets.”
Shelly folded her arms. “Why would it be stuck to the wall?”
Bennett glanced behind him at the old red Chevrolet. “My guess is that if an earthquake toppled this, it would have damaged the car. Because the car hadn’t been driven in years, the former property manager couldn’t start it, so here it sat.” He pointed to the other side of the garage. “The manager used to keep a riding lawn mower and his jet ski on that side.”
He opened the cabinet and shoved aside car cleaning products. “Here’s the problem.” He stepped aside so Ivy and Shelly could peer inside. On the back of the cabinet, bolts had been driven through the rear wall of the cabinet. “I’ll try to get them off.”
“If you can’t, I bet we can,” Shelly said, nudging Ivy.
“We only want to move it, not destroy it.” Ivy watched Bennett as he slipped off his jacket.
Bennett was as fit as men half his age, and he looked much the same as he had the first day she’d seen him on the beach. His hair had been longer then, though he still played the guitar—and her heart still quickened as it had when she was a teenager. She could see him in her mind’s eye—sitting cross-legged in front of a flickering fire, strumming and singing as their young surfing friends swayed to the music.