Somewhere by the Sea Read online

  WELCOME TO HOPE BED & BREAKFAST

  A HAVEN FROM THE STORM

  Faith's eyes got stuck on the word "HOPE" and started to sting. Immediately, she entered the B & B to keep her emotions from overpowering her yet again, and stopped short. She turned in a circle studying the lavender walls, moss green panels, and sunflower yellow molding of the foyer.

  "The colors are unexpected, don't you think? I always get the same reaction from people who haven't been here before."

  Faith turned to face a woman who had obviously been part of the hippie movement. She was smiling widely and stuck out her hand. "Hello, my name is Gabby Hope and I'm the proprietress of this monstrosity. Are you Faith Bennison?"

  "Yes. How did you know?" She shook Gabby's hand.

  My son, Baxter, was just taking some trash out and saw your car. He noted the license plate was from Missouri, and since you registered with an address in that state, I took a wild guess."

  Faith shifted the strap of her purse to her other shoulder and found herself smiling at the engaging woman.

  Gabby said, "Follow me and we'll get you signed in. Then I'll show you to the pioneer bedroom that you requested. If you change your mind, however, the Queen Elizabeth room is available."

  Faith followed Gabby to what had probably been a parlor, but was now the check in station, with its elegant freestanding counter strewn with a collection of brochures and business cards in ornate holders. Everything from sunset cruises to jet skiing, trail hikes, and fishing were advertised. The remainder of the room was furnished with a redwood antique writing desk with a Queen Anne chair, and three French Gentlemen's chairs. The walls of this room were painted yellow with lavender panels and green molding. The Gentlemen's chairs were purple and the affect was literally breathtaking.

  "What do you think about the colors in here, Faith? They're the same as the other room, but coordinated differently."

  Faith accepted the pen the proprietress handed her and said before completing the information form, "They're exquisite. You certainly have a talent for dramatic color combinations." A minute later she handed the form and pen back to her hostess.

  "No, hon, you keep the pen. As for my color choices, some guests take one look and cringe, which doesn't bother me. A long time ago I learned that I can't please everyone or fit into their mold, so I don't even try." She slipped the paper into a drawer and pushed a guestbook toward Faith. "One more thing, please sign our guestbook." After Faith signed the register that had entries from all over the United States, Gabby continued, "So, Faith, I remember speaking with you on the phone when you made your reservation, but I didn't get a chance to ask what brings you to Somewhere?"

  Glancing away from Gabby's intense blue gaze, Faith replied honestly, "I decided to change my routine."

  There was a short silence before the hostess replied, "Well, hon, Somewhere is the best place in the world for changing routines. We got tons of extracurricular activities, but the best part about our town is that it isn't on the mainstream radar because most folks are drawn to Brookings south of us. So if its solitude you want, there's plenty of that, too." She motioned toward the door. "But we can chitchat later. Let's get you settled."

  They reentered the hallway that ran the length of the house to stairs at the back and paused at the entrance to a formal dining room on their left. Gabby said, "This is where all meals are served, unless, of course, you want to eat in your room or on the second floor balcony. We have six bedrooms for guests and there's a brochure in your room giving mealtimes and other particulars. We try to be as accommodating as possible, so let us know if you have a favorite food or there's anything you need to avoid." She pointed to a closed door at the back of the dining room. "The kitchen is through there. We modernized it about five years ago and you're welcome to join our cooks at any time. They love mingling with guests. They're a young couple that I hired out of Dallas about two years ago. We also have a fulltime housekeeper and two part-time workers who fill in wherever their needed." She continued toward the stairway still talking nonstop.

  At the top of the stairs the landing faced a stained glass window of yellow sunflowers and then continued along the eastern and western sides of the house, so that from anywhere above, the main floor was visible below. Ornate railings as high as Faith's waist kept the landing safe, and on both sides were four doors.

  Gabby said, "My son and I live on the third floor, which is reached from a stairway at the back of the kitchen. Years ago, when my husband was alive, we remodeled the old servants' quarters into a sitting room, two bedrooms, and added a bathroom. Baxter lives in California, but spends his summers with me." She pointed to the center door on the western landing. "That's the pioneer room and it has its own bathroom, as you requested. The Queen Elizabeth room which is directly opposite does too. The other guests share a bathroom." She pointed to the first doors on both sides of the landing. "Those are the bathrooms." She paused for breath and pulled a key from her pocket as she walked to the western side. "All the bedrooms have doors that open onto balconies that run the length of the house. The eastern rooms have a view of town and the western, the ocean." She handed Faith the key. "You go ahead and open the door since it's your room."

  4: Baxter

  Baxter glanced up from the computer screen in the sitting room on the third floor and grinned at his mother. "Did you get the new guest settled in?"

  "I did and she's a strange one. She carries sadness around her like a cloak. I'll bet my bottom dollar something terrible happened to her."

  Baxter grunted. "Well it's a good thing I'm handling your bottom dollar then."

  Gabby smiled at her only child. "You're just like your father. He always said we'd end up in the poor house if I was in charge of our finances." She sighed. "And he was right. I'm a sucker for every salesperson and charity event."

  "And that's why you have me." He hesitated and added, "So, if this gal…what's her name…"

  "Faith Bennison."

  "…suddenly hits you up for money, you better call me. I don't trust sad, head cases."

  "You're just jaded because your wife was a sad, head case who fleeced you in the divorce."

  "You got that right. So I'm more discerning about people than you are."

  "I don't agree." She laughed. "See, there we go again, disagreeing, and you've only been here two days."

  Baxter tried to suppress a grin as he returned his attention to the accounting program on his computer.

  After calling her only family member to let her know she had arrived in Somewhere, Faith said goodbye to her sister Melody and sat on the rustic log bed to peruse her surroundings again. With every go-around, she saw something new and interesting. She'd already noted that the frame and headboard of her bed were hand-hewn pine logs and the pretty yellow and blue wedding ring quilt was hand-stitched. She fluffed one of the plump yellow pillows and lay back. Her gaze circled the room and rested momentarily on each furniture piece: a natural finished pine dresser with two matching nightstands; a rocker formed of twisted Manzanita branches with a seat cushion matching the blue of the quilt; a maple secretary desk; and a small, drop-leaf oak table with two chairs. The room was a mish-mash of different woods, but the affect was eclectic and enchanting. On the whitewashed walls were a couple of black and white photos of ocean scenes and also framed magazines dating as far back as 1901. On the wall across from the bed was a flat screen TV. In addition to a door opening onto the balcony, there was one window with pretty white lace curtains.

  Rising from the bed Faith stuck her head in the bathroom again to admire the claw foot tub and fluffy blue towels embroidered with one word, "HOPE." Although small, the bathroom was quite adequate. She walked to the balcony door and stepped outside into a cool breeze that ruffled her hair. On the B & B's private beach she watched waves lap the sand. A handful of sunbathers lay on towels and a mother sat with her child building a sand castle, or rather a blob they piled higher and higher. She walked to the railing and moved her gaze
away from the private beach to scan the shoreline all the way to the other end of the cove, where the marina was barely visible. The headland at that end was similar to this end with its forested peninsula, and covering the distance between the peninsulas was the public beach and expensive homes along Ocean Boulevard. She returned her gaze to the private beach that gave way to scattered boulders and then the evergreens and wondered if there were trails leading into the forest. She would ask Gabby.

  As she was about to turn away, she caught sight of the boy and dog she had met earlier. They were now at the edge of the private beach, right before the boulders, and the child was still tossing the Frisbee for his dog. While the dog chased the toy, the boy looked in her direction and waved.

  During dinner Baxter studied the profile of their latest guest when she turned her head to converse with another guest, and decided his mother was right. She did wear sadness like a cloak, and if he hadn't been older and wiser than he'd been at the age of twenty-five when he'd met his future wife, he'd be tempted to feel sorry for her. It was her eyes that gave her away. They were the color of dark chocolate, large, with long lashes, and profoundly sad. Her eyes were beautiful.

  Realizing his mother was asking him a question he quickly turned his attention to her and saw her self-satisfied expression. She'd wanted him to become interested in another woman for years, and now she'd caught him studying Faith Bennison. He answered her query and then politely continued conversing with their guests. Currently there were eleven guests—three sisters, a young couple with a toddler, an elderly couple, a middle-aged couple, and Faith. The dining table could accommodate twenty people, but rarely did they have more than sixteen.

  One of the sisters, probably in her late twenties, began flirting with him and asking questions about the area. She invited him to join her and her sisters that evening for a bonfire on the beach and he politely declined with an excuse that sounded reasonable. He had no inclination to become involved with any woman, much less a bed and breakfast guest. Back in California there were a couple of women he dated and occasionally bedded, but they were no more interested in a long-term relationship than he. Faith was asking his mother a question and he reined in his thoughts to listen to her.

  "I was wondering if your peninsula is open for exploration. If so, are there hiking trails? I would love to walk through the trees."

  "Yes, the land is open to our guests. My husband Marcus inherited the peninsula and this home and we remodeled it into a bed and breakfast thirty years ago. He died a few years back and I've maintained two of the trails he loved. If you follow the main trail, which runs west, it intersects another heading north. The northern trail takes you to another harbor on the other side of this one and the western trail ends at the apex of the peninsula, where the founder of the town, Oliver Hope, built what's been dubbed Stone House." Gabby grinned at her guests. "The house was built around 1890 and abandoned in 1910 when this home and two identical ones were built. The new homes were for the senior Mr. Hope and his twin boys who were about to marry. Mr. Hope's home burned down in the 1960s and the other one was turned into a museum that's on Second Street. There are signs in town pointing the way." Her grin widened. "And as for Stone House, there are rumors that it's haunted."

  The sisters gasped.

  Gabby turned to Faith. "Would you like Baxter to accompany you on a walk?"

  Baxter almost choked on the water he was drinking.

  Hastily, Faith said with a stricken look, "No, no. I don't want to trouble anyone."

  Her response made Baxter feel so bad that he tried to sound convincing when he said, "It wouldn't be any trouble at all. I'd love to show you around."

  Faith met his gaze and said flatly, "No. I really don't need a guide."

  Candace, the sister who had been flirting with him, smiled seductively. "I'd love to see a haunted house with you as my guide."

  Turning his gaze on Candace he glimpsed his mother's amusement. "It would be my pleasure to act as guide for you ladies." He made sure his comment included all the sisters. He didn't want any alone time with Candace.

  5: Trail

  The next morning after a delicious breakfast of waffles and pure Vermont maple syrup, scrambled eggs, home fried chunks of potatoes, and strawberry tarts, Faith decided to explore the wooded area of the cove. Wearing a fanny pack with her water bottle and cell phone in it, she headed across the beach for the boulders and then the forest beyond, searching for the trailhead. Being a small woman, barely five feet, she had always envied tall, robust women that could hike for miles, run marathons, lift heavy weights, and jog alongside their husbands. Faith's husband had been athletic and competitive, often competing in bike and running marathons. Once, when she had expressed her frustration about her small stature, he'd laughed and pulled her into his arms, kissing her passionately and whispering in her ear, "You're perfect just the way you are." He'd nipped her earlobe and added, "And sexy as hell." He'd then easily lifted her and carried her to their bedroom.

  Faith paused at the tree line and swiped away the tear trickling down her cheek. Refusing to entertain additional memories, she continued her search for the trailhead. She'd walked probably less than three hundred feet when she spotted it. Surrounded on both sides by ferns, the trail dipped slightly as it ventured into the darkness of thick foliage. She stepped onto the path and abruptly stopped. For some reason her heart was pounding. She placed her palm over her chest and said softly, "You're just reacting to Gabby's theatrics about a haunted house." Her reasoning slowed her heartbeat and she continued into the coolness of the forest. Within a few steps she was surrounded by such dense greenery that the outside world was no longer visible. She shivered and walked deeper into the unknown on a mission of discovery. After maybe ten minutes she came to the intersecting trail Gabby had mentioned and sat on a fallen log. She closed her eyes, inhaled the scent of damp leaves from bigleaf maple trees and the needles of Douglas-firs, western hemlock, Sitka spruce, and other conifers, and listened to the cry of gulls. Finally, she stood and made a decision to follow the northern trail to the other cove.

  Her imagination soared as she skirted ferns, gazed upward at moss dripping from tree branches and particles of dust sparkling in the sunlight. She listened to a cacophony of birds and envisioned pirates hiding stolen gold in deep holes or hidden caverns and their treasure-laden ships being ruled by a one-eyed, patch-wearing captain who governed his lackeys with an iron fist. Before the death of her husband and son she had even entertained the idea of writing adventure stories, but that dream had died with them.

  The walk turned out to be longer than expected and she stopped several times to snap photos with her cell phone. Occasionally, the sun broke through the tops of the trees and stippled the ground in golden light, which made for beautiful pictures. She stopped walking when she spotted bright sunlight glinting off water. The golden light was beautiful and beckoned her forward.

  Suddenly, a figure stepped into the light and Faith squealed. The man had his back to her, but jerked around. It was Gabby's son, Baxter, and for an instant he seemed blinded as he stared into the shadows of the trees. Then he said, "Hello, Faith. I'm sorry I startled you." He stepped forward and it was as if her pirate had come to life. Her voice wouldn't work and she must have looked dumbfounded, because he said, "Are you all right?"

  She had to physically and mentally glance away from the tall man to recover her senses. Returning her gaze to his, she said, "Ah, yes, I'm fine. I guess I wasn't expecting to meet up with anyone, which is silly because I'm sure many people walk these trails." She was rambling and shut her mouth.

  Baxter now stood in front of her. "Not as many as you would expect." He chuckled. "Maybe it's because of the haunting rumor. Anyway, I love the view from this side of the cove. Come on and I'll show you."

  Faith followed Baxter into the sunlight, where, indeed, the view was stunning. He explained, "Hope Cove circles around to this cove that's a flora and fauna refuge maintained by the forestry servi
ce, so no one is allowed in." He motioned to a nearby boulder. "Have a seat."

  Faith accepted his invitation and watched waves lap the narrow beach below the bluff they were on. It was about a hundred feet to the bottom with no avenue that she could see for climbing down. The beach encompassed the cove and beyond it were craggy boulders. Beyond the boulders was the forest.

  Baxter had also taken a perch on a fallen log. "Most of the year I live in San Jose, so spending summers here helping my mother with the bed and breakfast is a treat. I enjoy starting my day by jogging here or to Stone House."

  Faith felt Baxter staring at her as she continued watching the waves.

  He said, "I figured you'd start exploring today, but I expected you to go to Stone House first. That's what most serious hikers do when they find out how old it is."

  Smiling, she glanced at him. "I was saving the best for last, but maybe this is the best." She waved her hand outward, encompassing the cove.

  Baxter returned her smile. "Both have their selling points."

  They continued to enjoy the view and make small talk for several minutes. After a short silence, Baxter said, "I guess I better head back and get to work. Would you like to come with me or stay here?"

  "I think I'll stay here and watch the waves." After he left she began composing a pirate tale because she knew the identity of the captain.

  6: Jennie and James