The Women of Bayberry Cove. Cynthia Thomason

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СКАЧАТЬ kidding. He couldn’t tell. Maybe he should buy her new pants. He didn’t know the protocol for this circumstance. But he did know his name, and he told her. “Wesley Fletcher.”

      “Okay, then, Wesley. Move away from the door so I can open it and get my case inside.”

      He went back to the kitchen and scowled at the sink. His first day back in Bayberry Cove was certainly not going according to plan.

      LOUISE TWISTED THE TAILS of her floral print blouse into a knot at her waist and zipped up her peach-colored shorts. She brushed her hair, gathered it at her crown and whipped the mass through a thick elastic band. In her mind she listed all the details she should consider before contacting Haywood Fletcher about renting the cottage. “Obviously some repairs are needed,” she mumbled to herself, and then froze with her hand on the doorknob.

      “Haywood Fletcher!” she said aloud. “The guy just said his name was Wesley Fletcher. He’s no clumsy, blue-eyed plumber. He’s Haywood’s son, the navy man who Jamie said might have his sights set on my cottage.”

      She left the bathroom prepared to negotiate for Buttercup Cottage. Finding her adversary flat on his back under the sink, she tapped the sole of his sneaker with her big toe. He pushed himself out and sat up, leaving his cap behind collecting drops of water from the faucet above.

      Draping well-muscled arms over bent knees, he looked at her for a second and then ran tapered fingers over close-cropped, wheat-colored hair.

      “Damn.” He groped under the sink and retrieved his cap. The gold insignia had taken on the same rusty hue as Louise’s capris, and he frowned at the ruined embroidery.

      “Looks pretty bad,” Louise said, allowing herself a little smile. “I know how you feel.”

      “I have others.”

      “Navy officer issue, right?”

      He nodded and stood up. “You look better.”

      “I think I washed off anything that might enter my bloodstream and communicate a fatal disease.”

      He smiled. “I apologize again. I really didn’t see you. The back door was just the easiest way to dump the corroded water, and I never expected anyone to be outside.”

      “Isn’t this the type of town where folks just pop up on their neighbors’ doorsteps for a piece of apple pie?”

      He smiled again, revealing even, straight teeth. “In town I suppose that’s true, but out here on the sound, visitors are pretty rare. Besides, nobody knows I’m here. This place has been vacant for so long there’s not a soul who would have a reason to stop.”

      “Except for me, you mean.”

      “I guess except for you, and I’m a little curious about why you’re here.” He went to an old wooden kitchen table and lifted the lid on a red cooler. He pulled a can of Coke from a pool of melting ice and held it out to her.

      She sat on one of the four spindle-back chairs—the one with all its spindles—and popped the top. “I wouldn’t have snuck up on you except I didn’t see a car when I drove up.”

      He opened a can for himself, sat across from her and nodded toward the backyard. “My Jeep’s in the shed. I put it there because the salt in the air can be rough on the paint.”

      They each took a few sips of soda before Wesley spoke again. “So…why are you here? And even more important, I suppose, who are you?”

      She set her Coke down and folded her hands. “My name’s Louise Duncan. I’m a friend of Vicki Soren—” She stopped when she realized she was about to give Vicki’s maiden name, the one she’d used until six months ago. “Make that Vicki Malone.”

      “Malone?” He nodded in recognition. “Jamie’s wife? The one who married him so he could get a green card all those years ago?”

      “That’s the one.”

      “My dad told me those two found each other after something like thirteen years. He said he had a hand in keeping them together after all that time.”

      Louise scoffed. “I guess you could say that. I was Vicki’s lawyer, and I drafted the faultless divorce settlement she presented to Jamie. And then your daddy took it upon himself to concoct a number of loopholes. No offense to your father, but he’s a crafty old buzzard.”

      Wesley chuckled. “None taken. In the Fletcher family, that’s a compliment.” He eyed her over the top of his can as he took a long swallow. “So you’re a lawyer?”

      “That’s right.” She looked directly at him. “And I’ve heard every shark and bottom-feeding joke you can think of, so you can keep them to yourself.”

      He affected an innocent shrug. “Believe me, I wasn’t going to make any cracks.”

      She relaxed. “Okay then. Now as for why I’m here in Bayberry Cove, I’m on vacation, sort of.” Seeing no reason to delay the inevitable, she announced, “And I’ve come to Buttercup Cottage because I want to rent it for a couple of months.”

      He set the can down with a metallic thump. “Sorry. It’s not available.”

      “Why not?”

      “Because I’m living in it.”

      “But you could live anywhere.”

      “So could you.”

      She took a deep breath. Engaging in a war of words with Wesley Fletcher was not likely to get her anywhere, especially since the cottage she now obsessively wanted to rent was in his family’s name. “Look, I might consider renting something else, but my friend told me there is nothing available in Bayberry Cove—no motels, no seasonal places even.”

      “That’s true, but you could point that BMW down Sandy Ridge Road, and in ten or fifteen miles you’ll hit some quaint little towns with enough gingerbread bed-and-breakfasts to make your mouth water.” He picked up his can and pointed it in a direction roughly behind him. “Or head to Morgan City and get a room at the Comfort Inn. They have a free continental breakfast.”

      “That’s almost twenty miles away.” His answering shrug was impassive, and Louise had to struggle to control her temper. She drummed her fingers on the tabletop and watched for any sign of capitulation. Nothing.

      “I think we can reach an agreement here,” she finally said. “I’m only in your town for one reason. My friend lives a mile from this cottage and I want to spend time with her.”

      “That makes sense.”

      “And I know that your father lives in a big house in town. Jamie Malone told me. Couldn’t you stay there for a couple of months? Then when I leave, you could move back to this place.”

      He shook his head. “I’d rather not. It’s really not convenient.”

      Logic wasn’t working, and now Louise wanted to rent Buttercup Cottage with a craving that was almost scary. She changed tactics. “I’ll pay you, of course. And I know this time of year demands higher rates. Would you say a thousand dollars a month is a fair СКАЧАТЬ