“Sure thing, sweetie.” He fished the keys out again and passed them over.
She gave him a hug and bent over to kiss her mom. “Take it easy till they let you go.”
“I don’t have much choice. And you get some rest. Tonight, when we’re all home and life is more back to normal, you can tell me about this friend of yours—and give us an update on your save-the-lighthouse campaign.”
“Let’s play the rest of the day by ear.”
But as she left the room, she bumped a discussion about Ben to the bottom of her agenda.
Because her mom would pick up too much—and she’d be astonished to learn that the friend her daughter had referenced was none other than the owner of the threatened lighthouse.
It kind of surprised—and tickled—her too.
And while she was grateful her whirlwind trip to Florida had been for naught, and wonderful as it was to see her parents, she was already counting the hours until she could get back on a plane and return to the town she loved—and the ex-army doctor who was fast making inroads on her heart.
19
So far, this had been a very good day.
Smiling, Ben cranked down the window in Skip’s truck, rested his elbow on the edge, and inhaled the tangy salt air as he cruised down Highway 101 from Coos Bay under the cloudless blue Friday sky.
If he wanted to change his resident status in Hope Harbor from temporary to permanent, finding satisfying work appeared to be a cinch.
His early-morning meeting with the owner of the urgent care center had been encouraging. The man had been beyond enthusiastic about the possibility of an army surgeon taking over as director until a long-term replacement could be found. Details would have to be worked out, but the door was open.
And the conversation he’d just had with Jonathan Allen had also been upbeat. The surgeon had been more than receptive to his query about the possibility of joining the growing orthopedic practice in Coos Bay. He’d also introduced him to his partner and promised the two of them would discuss the idea over the weekend.
The sole question mark was Marci.
And she was the lynchpin in his decision.
Tapping a finger against the wheel, Ben passed a slower-moving car. The electricity sparking between the two of them was strong now, but it could fizzle. One, or both, of them might lose interest.
If that happened, would he want to spend the rest of his life in Hope Harbor, knowing their paths were bound to cross?
That could be awkward.
Yet the town did have much to recommend it, as Father Murphy had reminded him the other day. Skip had loved it for all the reasons the priest had mentioned.
Plus, Ben had his own fond memories of the place that had become a refuge during his turbulent younger years after his world flipped upside down.
So what should he do?
Despite his increasingly urgent prayers for guidance, the answer continued to elude him.
All he knew was that he needed to decide soon. If he was going to change direction, it was only fair to let the practice in Ohio know ASAP.
He rounded a bend in the road on the final approach to Hope Harbor, and Pelican Point light peeked at him through the spruce and fir trees, an imposing presence on the craggy headland.
Hard to believe how much his life had changed because of that unexpected legacy. The weather-beaten structure had disrupted his plans, launched him on an unexpected journey, and opened doors to new possibilities.
And who would ever have guessed that a lighthouse would link so many lives?
Strange how Skip hadn’t had any takers when he’d put it on the market five months ago, but an offer had landed on the table within days of his demise.
An offer that had rallied the town to save the light, started a romance, and perhaps helped save a marriage.
A grin tugged at his mouth as he passed the Welcome to Hope Harbor sign. His grandfather would have had a field day with that scenario. Rather than view the events as random, he would have assumed there was a purpose behind them.
Ben wasn’t as inclined as Skip to see the hand of the Almighty in everything—but in this case, his grandfather might be right. Everything had fallen into place too neatly to be explained by chance.
Swinging onto Dockside Drive, Ben tooled toward home, one hand on the wheel as he scanned the wharf. Charley’s was open for business . . . and for a second he was tempted to indulge in some tacos for lunch.
But the realtor was stopping by again in fifteen minutes. Better keep rolling.
Charley stepped out of the back of his taco truck as he passed, and Ben waved at him through the window.
The man watched him for a moment, then lifted his hand in reply—but there was no trademark flash of gleaming teeth today. Charley seemed almost . . . somber.
A tiny niggle of unease snaked through Ben.
During all their interactions through the years, the local artist had always radiated optimism, his sunny outlook and cheerful nature a balm for troubled souls.
In fact, without him and Skip, Ben wasn’t certain he’d have survived his tenth summer. Between the two of them, they’d managed to brighten his world—and fill it with hope.
But he wasn’t getting positive vibes from the man now.
Could Charley be having a bad day for once in his life?
He continued down the street, watching the man in his rearview mirror.
Charley stayed where he was, gaze fixed on the truck, uncharacteristically solemn.
Too bad he couldn’t stop and talk to the resident sage. Find out what was going on.
With the realtor on her way, however, he’d be late if he dallied.
Maybe once she left, though, he’d wander back down for a chat with the man. After all the times Charley had
