In the Heart of Windy Pines Read online

  Along with a ‘World’s Best Daddy’ bookmark his son Oliver had given him when he was a little boy, the letter he’d received two weeks earlier was tucked in the front of the book. It was the letter that had started this whole chain of events that had led him here to this remote little town. Another couple hours of driving and he’d be at the Philman Ranch.

  His tired eyes flicked over the return address on the envelope:

  Jean Philman

  5871 Longview Road

  Snake Whisper, ID

  This woman had contacted him shortly after he had, in a moment of mental anguish, bought the waterfront property. Neil Prescott rarely behaved on a whim, but that Saturday several weeks back had been unusual. He’d overslept. Then he’d decided to go for a run. He’d stumbled upon a real estate auction in action. And then, to his dismay, he’d decided to buy the rundown old cottage on two and a half acres. Right then and there, on the spot, wearing his nylon Nike short-shorts and his My Daughter’s Making a Difference with ART! t-shirt.

  On some subliminal level, he knew he’d done it out of pride. The whole town of Port Elspeth hated him and was trying to drive him out of town. So he’d bought up one of the choicest lots available, just because he could. Just to, as Vivienne used to say, “Stick it to them!”

  What he was going to do with it was anyone’s guess.

  And then, out of the blue, this letter had arrived.

  He blotted at his mouth with the cloth napkin, took another drink of his lemon water, and pulled the typed letter from its envelope.

  Dear Mr. Prescott,

  Let me introduce myself! My name is Jean Philman. How do you do? My husband Barnard (a.k.a. Barney) and I are Boston natives, but we’ve been living out west in beautiful Idaho for the past eight months, having finally decided to settle out here after navigating a life-long love of both the Wild West and Beautiful New England.

  As much as we love it here (you ought to see the mountains!), we’re still New Englanders at heart. Barney grew up spending most of his time lobster fishing with his dad. He’s the best lobsterman I’ve ever known, if I do say so myself. Proud wife speaking! Ha ha!

  Barney has developed a new SECRET style of lobster traps and he’s looking for kind-hearted folks with oceanside property who will let our small team of professional lobstermen access the water from their property. We’re particularly interested in the Port Elspeth area since you’re known for having prime lobster-breeding water temperature. In addition, since your area has been closed to lobster fishing for decades, the inventory should be extremely high.

  If your property doesn’t already have a boat access point or pier with a designated place to dock a boat, our small company will make the necessary adjustments in a quality manner that fits with the aesthetics of your property.

  In exchange for the right to use your property and have access to the ocean (briefly, every day or every other day, as the traps need to be checked frequently), we’d like to pay you a portion of our lobstering profits.

  This could be a very lucrative passive income source for you!

  As you probably know, Port Elspeth has had strict anti-lobstering laws in effect for decades, since the town council has determined that “it would be more welcoming to tourists and townsfolk alike to not have unsightly lobster boats bobbing about or those people wearing large, unsightly orange overalls” (taken word-for-word from the Port Elspeth city bylaws, last amended in January, 2019 – as you can see, we’ve done our homework!).

  However, we’ve secured the rights to operate a very small number of traps since Barney’s unique trap designs and discreet fishing methods have met the city’s strict approval guidelines and they’re allowing an exception to their own bylaws on a for-trial basis. We have all the necessary legal permits and knowledge of best practices. Not that you’d need to know or worry about any of those cumbersome behind-the-scenes details. In fact, you’d never need to do or say anything to the town council. All communications will go through us.

  To further ease your mind, we use only the most ethical employees with the most ethical standards. Barney and I plan to visit our location(s) three to four times a year on average, to perform quality checks and to ensure that everything is running exactly as it ought to. Most importantly, our discreet, unique traps and non-invasive processes will not embarrass the good people of Port Elspeth or in any way alter the fragile aquatic balance of the Port Elspeth seashore.

  We’d like to talk to you about this more when we’re in Connecticut a couple months from now. Or, if you’d rather discuss it sooner, we invite you to visit us at our ranch in Idaho.

  Please do not share the contents of this letter. This is an exclusive opportunity and we’re only reaching out to a select number of people at a time.

  Looking forward to becoming business partners!

  Jean Philman

  “How is everything here?” asked Neil’s waitress. He stuffed the letter back under his book.

  “It’s good,” he said.

  “A little more water for you?”

  “Sure, why not?”

  “Coming right up,” she said.

  “Thank you,” said Neil, pulling the letter back out from beneath the book, just as there was a loud clatter. He looked over to see the plastic water pitcher lying in the middle of the dining room floor. Water, ice cubes, and lemon slices were everywhere.

  “I’ve got it,” the drop-dead gorgeous innkeeper said, rushing in with her coat on. “Lucas, it’s okay,” she said to the teenage waiter. He looked like he was about to start bawling. She patted his arm. “Really, it’s no big deal.”

  “Meribeth reached for it…” he began.

  “Don’t blame me!” said Neil’s waitress.

  “Both of you, please just do your jobs,” the innkeeper said quietly, kindly. She looked tired, but she was smiling. “You’re not in trouble. These things happen.” She hurried off and returned a moment later with an old towel.

  Neil sighed. The boy reminded him of his son. The same timid, wide-eyed expression and fine, fluffy hair sticking out from his head like someone in a perpetual state of being static-charged. And the innkeeper… Why was he so attracted to her? Neil hadn’t been particularly attracted to anyone but his ex-wife Vivienne in years. Yet he felt drawn to this beautiful young woman with the dark hair and soulful green eyes.

  He wished he wasn’t wearing the turquoise mock turtleneck with the tiny golf clubs embroidered on the neck. It had been paired with a matching windbreaker. At least he’d left that up in the room. This “snazzy set” had been one of Vivienne’s favorite looks on him. “Sooooo classy!” she’d always said. But it wasn’t. Once he’d broken free of the spell he’d been under for years, he’d taken a good look around at the modern world and realized that the 1990s-Eurochic look Vivienne so adored wasn’t exactly cutting it. All those times he’d trusted her taste and judgement, only to find out that it had been turning him into a strange-looking time capsule of a man that only she could desire.

  You’re going shopping, he told himself, feeling a little burst of excitement, then catching the gleeful little look of hope in a mirror across the room.

  His face fell again.

  It’s too late for you, he reminded himself. Mr. Fifty-seven. That beautiful innkeeper, well, she looks like she’s twenty years younger than you. You could be her father! And don’t forget, you’re still married. If she knew all the baggage you came with, she’d kick you out of this place.

  And then she was standing right in front of him.

  “Do you need anything?” she asked, holding the towel filled with lemon slices and ice cubes in one hand and the empty, cracked pitcher in the other.

  “No, no. I’m good.”

  “Okay. I just noticed you looking over. Did you enjoy your meal?”

  “It was delicious,” he said.

  “Good. Glad to hear it.”

  “Uh, so, um. Do you own this inn all by yourself?”

  “All by my lonesome,”
she said, smiling with a Yesss? look on her face.

  “Just you.” He glanced at her left hand but he couldn’t see past the towel. “That’s impressive.”

  “Thanks.”

  “It sure is a beautiful old place.”

  “I need to appreciate that more,” she said, scanning the room quickly and then smiling at him. What a smile! “Thanks for bringing it to my attention.”

  “You do a great job around here,” he said, deciding that his best efforts at flirting with this gorgeous woman were going to be his birthday gift to himself.

  “Uhh, not really. But thanks for saying so. Meribeth will be right over to top off your water. Have a good stay here.”

  “Oh, thank you. I will.”

  He watched her hurry away. Just when he’d been getting into the swing of things! She looked good coming or going, he decided. Then he shook his head. These feelings were so out of character that he didn’t even know how to classify them.

  What’s the matter with me? he wondered. Do I have a crush on her? Why am I acting like I’m sixteen years old tonight?

  He felt guilty toward Vivienne, despite himself.

  Squash that, he told himself.

  Next, he felt excited that he was going to be staying at the inn for an extra day. More time to talk to her! he thought, nodding to himself.

  Then he felt sorry for himself, since he knew he was at a point in his life where daydreams would only ever be daydreams.

  “Sorry about the wait,” said his waitress, filling his water glass.

  “It’s fine. These things happen,” he said, picking up his glass and taking a long, refreshing drink from it.

  “It’s warm in here, isn’t it?” she said.

  “A little bit.”

  “I guess we’ve got too many logs on the fire.”

  “That must be it,” said Neil. But in his head, he was thinking, Birthday Fever. It was something the kids got, back when they were little, after a long, hectic, exciting day or cake and ice cream, gifts and games. Maybe adults could get it too. That must be it, he mused to himself. I guess I’ve just got a good old-fashioned case of Birthday Fever.

  Chapter 13

  Klarinda had been about to leave for the night when Lucas had spilled a pitcher of water all over the dining room floor and she’d had to clean it up. Then a guest had engaged in a strangely intimate conversation with her. It wasn’t as if the words were intimate; it was more that the weight of them was far heavier than a casual conversation ought to feel. It had been Neil, the man staying in the gray room. The one who had known that irate demon Dave who’d harassed her earlier in the evening.

  I should have asked him how he knew that guy, she realized. Something told her, he would have answered her questions. He’d seemed very ready to talk to her, his nearly palpable longing drawing her into his personal bubble. Why had she kind of liked getting sucked into his well of despair?

  You need to make some friends, she told herself.

  Her head was still pounding from recounting the dramatic encounter with that horrible, bell-clanging customer. She squeezed her eyes shut. She’d rather not give him another moment’s thought. Luckily, despite Melinda Birkus’s warnings, he never had shown back up. That reminded her; she’d better unlock the front door.

  She sighed, turned around, and made her way back through the inn and up to the front hallway again, where she discovered that the front door was no longer locked. Just then, Josephine came down the stairs.

  “You’re still here,” she said to Klarinda. “It’s getting late.”

  “There was a minor emergency in the dining room. A spilled pitcher of water I had to clean up since the high schoolers are so busy in there.”

  “That was nice of you. I just took care of turn-down service.”

  “How’d it go?” Klarinda asked, since sometimes there were updates about rooms smelling like cigarettes, or pets having been smuggled in, or other matters needing to be addressed.

  “The guest in the blue room asked me to leave him alone. That’s about it. Before I forget, we need to buy more mints. We’re down to our last box.”

  Klarinda nodded. “Did you unlock the front door?”

  “Nope,” said Josephine, shaking her head. “That reminds me, I see we’re all full now.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I think someone’s in the purple room now. I was going to skip it, but I think I heard some people talking in there. I decided I’d better check the appointment book before barging in there in case it got booked.”

  “I didn’t check anyone else in,” said Klarinda.

  “I must have been hearing something.”

  “The ghost of Mistletoe Manor,” laughed Klarinda. “Well, I’m going to call it a night. Have a good one.”

  “I will. You too. Hmmmm. That’s funny,” Josephine said, looking at the appointment book with a puzzled expression on her face

  “What is it?” asked Klarinda, almost too tired to care.

  “We are all booked now.”

  “How can we be if neither of us checked anyone in?”

  “Oh, this explains it,” said Josephine, holding up the notepad by the phone.

  Stopped back in to pick up my readers and checked in a customer. Have a good night. See you Thursday.

  Myrtle

  “That’s great!” Klarinda exclaimed. “A full house! I’ll let Pierre know before I go. Have a good evening, Josephine.”

  “You too! Bye.”

  Klarinda was just walking out of the Mistletoe Manor kitchen and zipping up her coat, preparing to check on her young waitstaff one last time before finally leaving, when she heard a familiar Southern drawl saying, “Tiffinie, you do not need to go back up to the room for your sweater. Why do you spend an hour a day working out if you’re gonna cover it up half the time?”

  Klarinda gasped and her jaw dropped. Before she could find her words, the man said, “Fancy meeting you here, you little liar.” He couldn’t control himself; he burst out laughing. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he said as he sauntered past her, dragging his woman on his arm over to one of the only remaining tables in the dining room.

  Deciding the only thing to do at this point was to de-escalate the situation, Klarinda set two menus on his table and said, “Someone will be right out with glasses of water for you.”

  She rushed back up to the front desk and told Josephine the news.

  “We’re kicking him out, right?” Josephine asked.

  “It’s a little difficult to do that,” said Klarinda, “now that he’s already checked in.”

  “I’m not very comfortable with him staying here. I mean, I’m going to be alone here all night with him. What if he gets violent? Would you mind if I asked Todd to come up here and hang out with me tonight? Just as a one-time thing?”

  “Considering the circumstances, that’s fine,” said Klarinda, trying not to become distraught over the image of Todd lounging around in the parlor all night, a fire crackling away in the fireplace, with Josephine cuddled up beside him.

  “Okay. That would make me feel better.”

  “If that guest gets mouthy or out-of-hand, please call me immediately and I’ll come right back.”

  “And you’re okay if I call the police too?” asked Josephine.

  “If you feel you need to, of course,” Klarinda said.

  “Okay. It’ll be fine. I’m sure of it,” said Josephine. “Now you go to your apartment and relax. You shouldn’t be spending twelve or fourteen hours here a day!”

  “You’re right about that,” said Klarinda. She wrapped her scarf around her neck. “Hopefully everything will be fine now that he’s gotten what he wanted. See you first thing in the morning.”

  Chapter 14

  Deciding he’d lingered long enough, Neil reached for his wallet to get out his credit card, when his waitress said, “Sir, I don’t think you’re going to want to do that just yet.”

  “Oh? Why not?” he asked her.
>
  “Because if you leave already, you’ll miss the best part of the night. It’s almost time for the barbershop reindeer sweater oldies quartet! They’re here to sing Christmas carols to everyone in the restaurant. Sometimes Ralph—he’s the short one with the funny mustache—even recites Robert Frost poems.”

  “The reindeer sweater what?” Neil asked.

  “Look out there,” she said, pointing to the small amount of unfogged-up space on one of the windowpanes near him.

  Neil scooted down in his chair a little bit and peered outside. At first, all he could see was snow coming down, but then four old men, bundled up and wearing snowshoes, came into focus.

  “It’s a tradition around here,” she explained. “Whenever a blizzard hits, those four get bundled up and go around Windy Pines spreading cheer.”

  “They do?” Neil’s eyebrows raised in a wavery expression of hope.

  “Yep. Take a look. Here they come. Don’t tell anyone this, but I’ve heard Otis is talking about retiring soon. What a pity.”

  “Who would I tell?” Neil wondered aloud.

  “So, hold tight because it would be a shame for you to miss them,” she said before rushing away to tell others in the dining room to stay and watch the show.

  Neil drew in a deep breath and smiled, realizing she hadn’t brought his bill yet anyway, and maybe that was a sign that he should order another beer or a glass of wine.

  A barbershop quartet. That certainly sounds cute, he thought to himself, as he perused the drink menu. Then he glanced up and took a look around the dining room. He felt comforted by the idyllic scene of happy, pleasant people talking and smiling and eating. He was just about to remind himself that it is a wonderful world and that most people are of the kind, forgiving, honest, and loyal variety, when his eyes met Dave Sommerset’s eyes. All his goodwill dropped out of him.