two sets of fresh vehicle tracks in the snow. Odd, since the cottages are all closed up or abandoned.
Tree branches scrape the sides of the huge vehicle as I creep slowly down the road. I glace at each cottage, but the tracks go farther, toward the studio. Perhaps it’s the Heritage Society taking stock of the place, seeing what needs doing before we can turn it into a heritage building.
A bubble of excitement wells up inside me, but it bursts when I see Nate’s truck and a vehicle I don’t recognize. What the heck is going on? I ease into the driveway and glance around, but Nate is nowhere to be found. How does he even know about this place?
I open my door and slide from my car, hugging myself against the breeze coming in off the ocean. Voices reach my ears as I approach the front of the house, and my footsteps still.
“For fuck sake, Nate. I never should have trusted that you knew what you were doing.”
“I do know what I’m doing.”
“Just because you got some fancy fucking degree doesn’t mean you know this business better than me or your brothers, and if you want something done, you need to play hardball, not throw more money at the problem.”
“I’ve got this under control,” Nate says, his voice deep and angry.
“Give me the name of the owner, and I’ll show you how to get this property purchased. Jesus Christ, sometimes I wonder how you’re my son. I never wanted any of this, never even gave you my final okay, but you didn’t let that stop you. It’s too late to pull the plug now. We spent enough on securing all the other cottages. You’d better be right about all this new technology, otherwise…”
“Otherwise, what?”
With my blood draining to my toes, I walk around the corner, and both men go still when they see me.
“Kira,” Nate says and glances around. “What are you doing here?”
“I guess I don’t have to ask what you’re doing here. I just heard.”
“Who are you?” the elderly gentleman asks rudely, like he has no time for the interruption.
“I’m Kira Palmer,” I say. “Who are you?”
“Bill Lancaster,” he says and turns from me, a quick dismissal.
Bill Lancaster. Why does that name sound so familiar?
“Oh my God, no,” I whisper under my breath as the tumblers click into place. William Lancaster, the guy who broke my mother’s heart, and Nate… Nate is his son? Has he been using me all this time, softening me up so he can buy Gram’s studio? What the hell would a fisherman want with the place anyway? Unless…
My heart crashes so hard against my chest that it’s difficult to breathe, let alone think. “Who are you?”
Nate gives me a quizzical look. “You know who I am.”
“No, I don’t think I do,” I say.
“He’s the goddamn CEO of Hooked, that’s who he is,” William says, impatiently. “Now, if you will leave us to discuss business.”
CEO of Hooked?
What the—? Wait. Boss man. How many times have I heard that and just thought it was because he was bossy, or perhaps the boss on one of the boats?
My legs go weak, and I back up, lean against the side of the house. My God, all the signs were there. I just missed them, and now that the pieces are falling into place, I can only assume the talk he wanted to have with me later had everything to do with me selling.
“What do you want with this place?” I ask through labored breaths. Nate takes a step toward me, but I hold my hand out to stop him. “Answer the question.”
Nate looks from me to his father, who has a scowl on his face, back to me. “We need to buy it, so we can tear it down and put up a state-of-the-art fish processing plant. Right now, we’re working under the radar.”
Bile punches into my throat, and I heave, sure I’m going to vomit all over Gram’s boots. Oh God, Gram would be