Redemption Bay. RaeAnne Thayne

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      “Kilpatrick. That son of a—” Ed bit off whatever harsh name he wanted to call Ben. His usually kindly, wrinkled face tightened into a scowl that shocked her, until she remembered that Ed as well as his only son had worked at the boatyard. After Kilpatrick’s closed its doors five years ago, Ed’s son and family had been forced to move away. She knew he lived in the Pacific Northwest along with Ed’s only grandchildren.

      Folks here took the closing of the boatworks hard, especially those who had worked there and been displaced in a single afternoon after Joe Kilpatrick’s funeral.

      “So is it true?” Barbara demanded. “Is he really back, after all this time?”

      She sighed. “Yes. I can verify firsthand. Ben is in town. He showed up last night, renting Carole’s place next to mine.”

      Conversation immediately started up again, animated and annoyed.

      “Why is he back? What kind of trouble is he planning to stir up now?” Archie asked.

      “How much more damage can he do?” Ed glared at McKenzie as if all this was her fault. That was the problem with being the mayor, she was finding. Everybody expected her to solve their problems, from a neighbor who watered his garden all night to a streetlight that had gone out.

      “I don’t know why he’s here,” she confessed. “We only spoke for a moment last night. He did have an old Killy. Maybe he’s here in advance of the boat festival.”

      It was a hollow explanation. She couldn’t see Ben hauling a boat from California to the hometown he hated just to show off what even she could tell had been a very fine watercraft.

      “What model?” Ed asked. For the moment, he seemed to forget his animosity toward Ben. The people who had worked at the boatworks took great pride in their product—probably why Killy boats were still so sought-after these days.

      “He mentioned it was a Delphine.”

      “Oh, that is a fine boat,” Archie said, almost reverently.

      “One of our best,” Ed agreed, in the same devout tones.

      “I can’t see that the kind of boat the man owns matters a good gosh darn,” Barbara said. “I just want to know what he’s doing here with it.”

      “I don’t know,” McKenzie admitted. “I can only promise you this. If he plans to cause more damage to this town than he already has, the jackass will have to get through me first.”

      “Is that right?”

      An instant too late, she realized all conversation in their vicinity had ground to a halt again. She turned at the familiar low drawl and of course, there he was standing just a few feet away. He looked gorgeous, wearing those jeans—buttoned up now—and a tailored polo shirt and fancy high-tech watch that could probably cover her entire mortgage.

      The air inside the diner seemed to suddenly plummet thirty degrees, as if a January cold front had just blown across the lake.

      No one seemed to know what to say—which she found as shocking as Ben’s presence here, since regulars usually had the opposite problem and never seemed to know when to shut up.

      “Hello,” Ben said.

      She cleared her throat, grateful the dusky skin she inherited from her mother didn’t show the heat she could feel soaking her cheeks. At least she hoped not.

      “Um. Hi.” He knew she didn’t want him there, so she couldn’t see the point in showing outright hostility to the man. Okay, any more than she already had. “Everyone. You remember Ben Kilpatrick, I’m sure.”

      Edwin opened his mouth to say something but Archie elbowed him in the ribs. While she would have liked to see them rip into Ben, this didn’t seem the time or the place—and she had a feeling that as resentful as everyone in town might be toward him for his negligence, most people were too well-mannered to throw it in his lap the first time they met.

      “Hear you’ve got yourself a Delphine,” Archie said.

      “I do. A 1965 model. She’s a beauty.”

      “You restore her yourself?” Edwin asked.

      “The easy parts. Mostly, I worked with a couple guys in the Bay area, who did the heavy lifting. I’m planning to put her in the water later today.”

      “You want to keep an eye out for crevice corrosion. As I recall, the Delphine was prone to that.”

      “I’ll do that. Thanks.”

      “If you need a hand off-loading from your trailer, my grandson Jake works at the marina,” Paul said. “Don’t let the earring fool you. He’ll treat your Delphine like a newborn babe.”

      Just once, she wished the residents of Haven Point weren’t so darn nice. This man had single-handedly turned a thriving community into a shadow of itself—but here was Ed, who had been directly impacted by Ben’s overnight decision to close the boatworks, giving him tips on the Delphine, for crying out loud, and Paul offering up his grandson’s help.

      Was she the only one willing to fight the good fight?

      “As I recall,” Ben said, “Serrano’s was always the best place in town for breakfast. Is that still the case?”

      “Sure enough,” Archie answered.

      “Try the Western omelet,” Paul said. “You can’t go wrong.”

      “I never met a Serrano’s pancake I didn’t like,” Archie said.

      Ben smiled. “Both sound good.”

      “Why don’t you take a seat at the bar and you can see for yourself?” Barbara said.

      “I prefer a table if you’ve got one free.”

      “Sure. I can swing that. Looks like a nice one just opened up by the front window. Just over there.”

      “I see it.”

      McKenzie glared at her friend. She would have thought Barbara, at least, would be on her side. Why give the man the best table in the house?

      “Menus are at the table and I’ll bring coffee in a minute.”

      “Thank you. Mayor Shaw. Can you join me for a moment? I need a quick word.”

      She could think of several words she would be happy to give him, free of charge, but she forced herself to remain calm.

      Out the window, she could see Rika, who looked perfectly content, flopped onto her belly in a small patch of sunlight, watching the cars go past on Lake Street. “I’m in a rush, but I can spare a moment.”

      She followed him to the booth, trying not to notice the broad shoulders tapering down to a narrow waist. It seemed wrong, somehow. He was a tech geek businessman, right? He ought to be pale, hunched over and asthmatic, not brimming with tanned athletic grace.

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