The waiter came by with Caleb’s drink and put Topher’s shrimp in front of him. Caleb settled in, elbows on the table, as Topher dug into his meal. He was surprisingly hungry. Maybe because he’d been out and about today. Or more likely because he’d grown weary of frozen dinners.
“So, I’ve been trying to get in touch with you. Did you get my messages?” Caleb asked.
“Yeah, I did. But I’ve been busy. And while we’re talking about this, do me a favor and leave my architect alone.”
Caleb’s gaze narrowed. “Ah, Jessica Blackwood. For a mousy little thing, she’s kind of cute. I bet she’s a hot little number in the sack, given what people say about her.”
Topher’s right hand closed into a fist. So Caleb had not evolved, and it was all he could do not to reach across the table and ram his knuckles into his mouth.
Caleb had always been an asshole. The guy was always talking about girls, boasting of the ones he’d screwed. Back in high school, talk like that was considered the usual fare for the locker room. But Topher had learned his lesson about “locker room” talk.
He’d tolerated it back then because trying to stop the guys from saying stupid things would have been futile. And besides, they were on a run for the championship. It was stupid, of course, but when a team gets on a run like that, you don’t do anything to mess up the vibe.
But he hadn’t liked that kind of talk when he’d quarterbacked the team, and he sure as hell didn’t like it now. Because he had evolved.
He forcibly relaxed his fist. There were better ways to bring jerks like Caleb down. Maybe this was part of his penance.
“Is there something I can help you with?” Topher asked, dropping into a charm offensive. He was definitely off his game, what with the state of his face, but he’d managed to charm the maître d’ over the phone. So he still had something left. Besides, he didn’t need to be all that charming. Caleb was undoubtedly more interested in his money than his manners.
Caleb leaned forward and spoke in a low, conspiratorial tone. “As a matter of fact, there is. I’ve been trying to reach you because I wanted to talk to you about our plans for Magnolia Harbor.”
“Whose plans?”
“There’s a consortium of developers who think this little town can be turned into the next Hilton Head. I thought you might want to get in on the ground floor. There’s a lot of money to be made.”
Topher had to bite his tongue not to tell the guy he didn’t want to see Magnolia Harbor turned into the next Hilton Head. But for Jessica’s sake, he played along.
“Really?” he asked. “Tell me all about it.”
* * *
Saturday morning was a zoo at Howland House. The inn was filled to overflowing with sailors who needed to be fed and out the door no later than seven. Their boats had to be rigged and sailed all the way out into the bay to the starting line for the races, which began at nine in the morning.
So Ashley, who usually got up at six in the morning, found herself down in the kitchen an hour earlier. Her assistant, Judy McKenzie, was also on the scene early, making up box lunches for everyone. It was an extra service Ashley had added this weekend when almost all of her rooms were taken by sailing enthusiasts.
Ashley’s sour mood didn’t make the early-morning rush any easier. She made what seemed like endless batches of biscuits, fried up several pounds of bacon and sausage, and boiled up a gigantic pot of oatmeal, all the while waiting for the morning to move on so she could march down to the cottage and give Topher a piece of her mind.
Yesterday evening Jackie had returned from the library brimming with the news that Rose Howland knew all about Captain Bill’s ghost. He even had a murky printout of a photo to prove it.
“We’re going to go to the library again tomorrow to read more of the letters,” Jackie had informed her.
Ashley had been so angry with her cousin that she’d sent Jackie to bed early and marched out to the cottage and banged on the door.
But the cottage had been dark, and further investigation had shown that Topher’s BMW was not in the parking lot.
Wow. He’d gone out for the evening—a turn of events that might have encouraged her, but at