Dana Mentink - Return to Pelican Inn

He shot a mournful glance at the remaining treasures. “I guess. I’ve got a box waiting for me at the pay table.”

“Cy...” she warned.

“Don’t worry. Just a lamp and a small piece of stained glass.”

They lined up to pay and Rosa filled him in.

“So, you think Pike’s trying to put the squeeze on Bitsy to sell?” Cy asked, eyes wide.

“Seems like it.”

“Then why help her enter the contest in the first place?”

Rosa shrugged. “That’s what I’m going to find out.”

As they waited by the tables crowded with items, Rosa’s attention was caught by an old black-and-white photo of a man perched proudly on the bow of a small boat. Before she knew it, her memories took her back to Pike’s exquisite eighteen foot runabout, listening to him ramble on about the mahogany decks that he himself had restored. She hadn’t cared one bit about anything relating to boats, but back then, her sixteen-year-old self had been more than impressed by his heart-melting smile and, yes, the dimple in his strong chin.

Pike was completely at home on that boat, more comfortable than she’d ever seen him strolling down the halls of their high school. She’d always thought there was some sort of tension in him, some coiled spring inside, in spite of the easy smile and elegant posture. Lost in the memory, she could feel the wind whipping her hair, his hand on the small of her back.

On that boat, the sleek Poppy’s Dream, Pike was truly at home.

Until the day when Poppy’s Dream was delivered to the bottom of the Pacific.

She remembered his handsome face twisted with rage, nearly unrecognizable, when her father began to investigate. Pike, he believed, helped his own father commit insurance fraud by sinking the exquisite boat to recoup the $100,000 insurance money they’d pretended not to need.

There was a history that hinted at fraud, Manny Franco had said. Past events that painted an entirely different picture of Pike and his kin. Facts she was unaware of.

You’re wrong, Dad, she’d told him.

Whatever Pike’s family may or may not have planned, Pike did not sink that boat. She knew it then with all the certainty of her steadfast teenage heart. He loved Poppy’s Dream too much. The proof was in his long fingers trailing over the gleaming wood, the way he’d settled into the captain’s seat with a sheen of awe in his brown eyes. The passion in his voice when he’d told Rosa every last detail about acquiring the antique vessel and his dreams to start a sailing school.

He’d never forgiven her father for the accusation.

Or Rosa for being related to him. And now Pike’s father was gone, dead of a heart attack some four years prior.

Someone jostled Rosa out of her reverie, and Cy forked over fifty dollars to the beaming attendant. Five thousand minus fifty. Four thousand, nine hundred and fifty dollars left to transform a tired old fowl into a regal bird.

Cy handed her a box to carry while he took possession of his hard-won wall sconces. On the way to the car, Rosa’s foot caught on a loose brick that edged the lawn. The box tumbled to the ground as she sprawled on the sidewalk, the heel of her shoe breaking clean off.

Cy helped her up and retrieved the box, which was still mercifully taped shut, and handed it to her. She shook it gently. Glass tinkled inside. “Uh-oh.”

His expression was pained. “It was a stained glass panel. The colors are out of this world. Don’t worry. I can probably fix it.”

With a sigh, Rosa schlepped the box to the car and loaded it into the trunk.

The sun was low in the sky, painting the town in umber and gold as they drove back to the Pelican. This time, she rolled the window down and kissed her hairdo goodbye.

Cy sang to himself, content in the passenger seat, fingers pounding a drum lick on his thighs. She was used to driving everywhere they went. Cy had only been driving for a few short weeks after getting his license when he’d struck a child riding a bike. The child had recovered, Cy had not. He’d never tried driving again. They zoomed along against the backdrop of a spectacular sunset, and Rosa could not help but revel in it.

When they finally traipsed into the inn, the smell of roast chicken greeted them. Baggy was lapping up a bowl of broth and rice.

“Baggy seems to be missing some teeth, so I thought maybe soft foods were the way to go,” Bitsy said, ushering them to the table. Pike was already seated there, looking like the lord of the manor in his clean shirt and jeans. Rosa felt more like a court jester as she furtively attempted to smooth her hair and straighten her blouse, limping to the table on her broken shoe.

“What happened to you?” Pike asked.

She flashed him a snooty look. “It was just some trouble relating to wall sconces.”

He raised an eyebrow and gave her a smile that, she was annoyed to discover, transformed his face from arrogant to breathtakingly handsome.

“I had no idea the decorating business could be so dangerous,” he said.

And the lawyering business is about to take a nasty turn, too, she thought, trying to figure out how to steer the conversation toward his plans for Bitsy’s inn. She decided to do some fishing over the delectable herbed chicken and creamy roasted potatoes.

“I went to see the Great Escapes people today,” she said. “Wanda says hello.”

“Wanda?” Pike frowned as he selected a pillowy roll and passed the basket to Cy. “Oh, red-haired lady. Right.”

“She told me you helped Bitsy prepare the contest materials. That was nice of you.”

Pike nodded. “I’m Bitsy’s lawyer. I created a history of the inn to be used for other purposes, and Bitsy attached it to the entry form.”

Bitsy smiled. “Oh, you’re much more than just my lawyer. You’re my darling nephew, and I don’t know what I’d do without you.” She shot a look at Rosa. “I can’t figure out why you two never got along. You’re both such angels to me. Here you are, Rosa, with Cy, ready to transform my inn, and Pike has helped me manage the legalities of this old place ever since he finished law school.”

“You could have done it, too, Rosa,” Pike said. “Why did you decide on that career change, by the way?”

She tried to read his expression. Was he baiting her or simply curious? “Never mind.”

“It’s a big job, running a bed-and-breakfast,” Pike said, eyeing Rosa as he spoke. “Too big.”

Rosa put her fork down. Time to take off the gloves. “Are you trying to pressure Bitsy to sell this place? Is that why you don’t want us here?”

“No one is pressuring me to do anything, honey,” Bitsy said, taking a tiny sip of water. “I’m not that pliable. I do what I want to.”

“And you don’t want to sell,” Rosa said. “But Pike thinks you should.”

Pike stared at Rosa and put down his fork. “I’m going to come right out and say it. I think it would be better for her to sell than participate in some cockamamie contest that, at best, will disrupt her life and, at worst, bring in more guests than she can handle.” He sat back. “That’s my position and I’m working toward getting the Pelican sold. With Bitsy’s permission, I might add.”

“Your position is wrong,” Rosa snapped.

“You’ve been here all of three hours and you think you know what’s best for my aunt?”

“Maybe I do,” she retorted.

“You’re not a lawyer, remember?”

“Hang on,” Bitsy said, an offended gleam in her eye. “As far as I can tell, I’m still in the room. I love the Pelican and I want to see her spread her wings again. I’m not a spring chicken, but I’m not dead quite yet.”

Rosa and Pike both started to speak, but Bitsy held up a hand and silenced them. “We will finish out this contest and see where things lie, but in the meantime, I want everyone to try and get along. Is that clear?” She directed a stern, blue-eyed stare at Rosa and Pike.