Secrets Whispered from the Sea - Emma St. Clair Page 0,44

the painting in his arms.

I just raised a brow at him. I had no idea how to take him right now. “Yep. Something about the color. And the way it captures Sandover. I love it.”

“Hm,” was Alec’s only response.

“Is the lock broken?” Dad asked, pushing open the door with a frown. “That doesn’t seem too safe, Clementine.”

Dad, being concerned and fatherly? This felt more than a little weird to me.

“Right. I need to get a locksmith out here. But I’m not staying here,” I said quickly, hurrying in after him.

I needed to hide my bags before Alec saw them out in the living room. The notice Alec had pinned up about no occupancy was still posted by the door. No one else had noticed, thankfully. I set my chai and Alec’s coffee down, managing to toss my bags into the hall closet.

“Where are you staying if you aren’t staying here?” Dad asked.

“Oh, here and there.” I avoided Alec’s gaze, though I felt it on me.

“This place is very quaint,” Nadia said. “Not like Ann’s house.”

“No, it’s nothing like Ann’s house,” I said, trying to keep my teeth from grinding.

Dad wandered around the room, glancing at the furniture, the framed beach prints, and the few photographs, mostly of Nana, me, and Ann from when we were young. They all seemed to capture singular moments of happiness, as though the smiles in the frames were a good summary of our lives, rather than the tiny snapshot they were.

I had managed, over the last few days, to clear out the main living areas from all the clutter. The open kitchen and living area now were bright and empty, even if a little dated and dusty. The bedrooms were another story.

“You’ve done a lot of work in here, Clem,” Alec said, leaning the painting carefully against the wall by the fireplace. “I’m impressed.”

Clem? And Alec was impressed with me? Hell must have frozen over. That, or my portal theory was correct.

“Um, thanks. It would look better if we could get the council to approve our renovations,” I said pointedly.

“We’ll get you there. Don’t worry.”

We?

I swear, when Alec smiled at me, I felt that look in the soles of my feet, all the way up to my cheeks. Who was this man? Maybe Alec had an identical twin, and this was one of those practical joke switches. This day felt like one of those shopping carts with the wonky wheels, the ones that just can’t go easily in a straight line as they should. Today was wobbly, unexpected, and totally off course.

I saw Chuck shoot daggers at Alec, then look at me with raised brows. I wanted to remind Chuck, again, that he had broken up with me. Instead, I said, “Alec is the inspector. And on the council responsible for approving any changes we want to make.”

“I’ve heard horror stories about the council,” Dad said.

“They’re all true,” I said. “The people definitely think they know more than they do. Totally arrogant.”

Alec only laughed. He laughed. And oh, it was a lovely sound. Deep and rich and full. I watched as he leaned back into the sofa cushions, settling in and all but putting his feet up on the coffee table. Seeing him reclining where I’d slept just hours ago did something funny to my stomach. I turned away, not wanting that visual right now.

Chuck gave me another hesitant smile, this one with a little side of just-been-kicked puppy. “Donuts? And I can make the coffee if you just point me in the right direction. I mean, if that will help.”

“I’ll make it. Thanks. But you can grab a plate and some napkins for the donuts.”

I needed something to do with my hands. A few quiet moments to brace myself for whatever this was. I pointed Chuck toward the cabinet with the only plates I had kept, a mismatched set of white dishes in various sizes, most of them chipped.

He set out the donuts and chatted with my dad, while Nadia made herself at home on the couch, sitting a little closer to Alec than seemed appropriate. They looked oddly well matched, maybe because they were close in age, or because they both seemed very fit. I didn’t like it at all. I wasn’t sure if I was bothered for my dad’s sake or my own.

The coffee maker sputtered to life, reminding me that I really needed to get a new one. Maybe a fancy machine one like Ann’s. Except I didn’t need to buy