The House on Cannon Beach Page 3

  He looked eager to escape. She sighed—she shouldn’t vent her frustration on Will. It certainly wasn’t his fault Anna Galvez was a bossy, managing, stiff-necked pencil-pusher who seemed to believe she knew what was best for the whole bloody world.

  She forced a smile. “I’m sure it will be fine. See you tonight.”

  Though he didn’t smile in return—Will rarely smiled anymore—he nodded and put his truck in gear, then headed down the road.

  She watched after him for only a moment, then continued pedaling her way toward town.

  She still simmered with anger toward Anna’s high-handedness, but it was tempered by her usual ache of sorrow for Will. So much pain in the world. Sometimes she couldn’t bear it.

  She tried her best to leave the world a better place than when she found it. But riding a bike to work and volunteering with Meals on Wheels seemed exercises in futility when she couldn’t do a darn thing to ease the burden of those she cared about.

  Will was another of Abigail’s lost sheep—Sage’s affectionate term for the little band of creatures her friend had watched over with her endless supply of love. Abigail seemed to collect people in need and gathered them toward her. The lonely, the forgotten, the grieving. Will had been right there with the rest of them.

  No, that wasn’t exactly true. Will had belonged to Abigail long before he had ever needed watching over. He had grown up in the same house where he now lived and he and his wife Robin had both known and loved Abigail all their lives.

  Sage had lived at Brambleberry House long enough to remember him when he was a handsome charmer, with a teasing grin for everyone. He used to charge into Abigail’s parlor and sweep her off her feet, twirling her around and around.

  He always had a funny story to tell and he had invariably been the first one on the scene whenever anyone needed help—whether it was moving a piano or spreading a dump-truckload of gravel on a driveway or pumping out a flooded basement.

  When Sage moved in upstairs at Brambleberry, Will had become like a big brother to her, offering her the same warm affection he poured out on everyone else in town. Robin had been just as bighearted—lovely and generous and open.

  When Robin discovered Sage didn’t having a dining room table yet, she had put her husband to work on one and Will had crafted a beautiful round piece of art as a housewarming present.

  Sage had soaked it all in, had reveled in the miracle that she had finally found a place to belong among these wonderful people who had opened their lives to her.

  If Abigail had been the heart of her circle of friends, Will had been the sturdy, reliable backbone and Robin the nerve center. Their little pigtailed toddler Cara had just been everyone’s joy.

  Then in the blink of an eye, everything changed.

  So much pain.

  She let out a breath as she gave a hand signal and turned onto the street toward work. Robin and Will had been crazy about each other. She had walked in on them once in a corner of Abigail’s yard at a Fourth of July barbecue. They hadn’t been kissing, had just been holding each other, but even from several yards away Sage could feel the love vibrating between them, a strong, tangible connection.

  She couldn’t imagine the depth of Will’s pain at knowing that kind of love and losing it.

  Oddly, the mental meanderings made her think of Eben Spencer, sweet little Chloe’s abrupt, unfriendly father. The girl had said her mother was dead. Did Eben mourn her loss as deeply as Will did Robin and little Cara, killed two years ago by a drunk driver as they were walking across the street not far from here?

  She pulled up to the center and looped her bike lock through the rack out front, determined to put Eben and Chloe Spencer out of her head.

  She didn’t want to think about either of them. She had learned early in her time at Cannon Beach not to pay much mind to the tourists. Like the fragile summer, they disappeared too soon.

  * * *

  Her resolve was tested even before lunchtime. Since the weather held through the morning, she and her dozen new campers gathered at a picnic table under the spreading boughs of a pine tree outside the center.

  She was showing them intertidal zone specimens in aquarium display cases collected earlier that morning by center staffers when she heard a familiar voice call her name.

  She turned to find her new friend from the morning barreling toward her, eyes wide, her gamine face animated.

  Moving at a slower pace came Eben Spencer, his silk, undoubtedly expensive tie off-center and his hair slightly messed. He did not look as if he were having a great day.

  Of course, when Sage was having a lousy day, she ended up with circles under her eyes, stress lines cutting through her face and a pounding headache she could swear was visible for miles around.

  Eben Spencer just looked slightly rumpled in an entirely too-sexy way.

  Heedless of the other children in the class, Chloe rushed to her and threw her arms around Sage’s waist.

  “It’s not my fault this time, I promise.”

  Under other circumstances, she might have been annoyed at the interruption to her class but she couldn’t ignore Chloe’s distress—or the frustration stamped on Eben’s features.

  “Lindsey, can you take over for a minute?” she asked her assistant camp director.

  “Of course.” The college student who had worked for the nature center every summer since high school stepped forward and Sage led Eben and Chloe away from the interested campers.

  “What’s not your fault? What’s going on?”

  “I didn’t do anything, I swear. It’s not my fault at all that she was so mean.”

  Sage looked to Eben for elucidation.

  “The caregiver the agency in Portland sent over was…unacceptable.” Eben raked a hand through his wavy hair, messing it even more.

  “She was mean to me,” Chloe said. “She wouldn’t let me walk out to the beach, even when I told her my dad said it was okay. She didn’t believe me so I called my dad and she got mad at me and pulled my hair and said I was a bad word.”

  From that explanation, she gathered the caregiver hadn’t appreciated an eight-year-old going over her head.

  “Oh, dear. A bad word, huh?”

  Chloe nodded. “She called me a spoiled little poop, only she didn’t say poop.”

  “I’m sorry,” Sage said, trying to figure out exactly what part she played in this unfolding drama.

  “I didn’t care about the name but I didn’t like that she pulled my hair. She didn’t have to be so mean. I think she was a big poop.”

  “Chloe,” her father said sternly.

  “Well, I do. So I called my dad again and told him what she did and he came right over from The Sea Urchin and told her to leave right now. He said a bad word, too, but I think she deserved it.”

  She gave a quick glance at her father, then mouthed H-E-L-L.

  Sage had to fight a smile. “I see,” she said. She found it admirably unexpected that Eben would rush to his daughter’s defense.

  “And now the place that sent her doesn’t have anybody else to take care of me.”

  Sage raised her eyebrows and glanced at Eben. “I suppose the temp pool is probably pretty shallow right now since the tourist season is heading into full gear.”

  “I’m figuring that out,” he answered. “The agency says it will be at least tomorrow or the next day before they can find someone else. In the meantime, I’ve got conference calls scheduled all day.”

  Sage waited to hear what all of this had to do with her, though she was beginning to guess. Her speculation was confirmed by his next words.

  “I can’t expect Chloe to entertain herself in a strange place while I’m occupied. I remembered you mentioning a summer camp and hoped that you might have room for one more.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. We’re completely full.”


  The center had always maintained a strict limit of twelve campers per session to ensure an adequate adult-to-student ratio. Beyond that, she had her hands full this year. Three of the children had learning disabilities and she had already figured out after the first few hours that two more might be on their way to becoming behavior problems if she couldn’t figure out how to channel their energy.

  Even as she thought of the trouble to her staff if she added another camper, her mind raced trying to figure out how to accommodate Eben and his daughter.

  “I was afraid you would say that.” He smiled stiffly. “Thank you for your time anyway. We’ll try to figure something else out.”

  He looked resigned but accepting. His daughter, on the other hand, appeared close to tears. Her shoulders slumped and her chin quivered.

  “But I really wanted to come to camp with Sage,” she wailed. “It sounded super, super fun! I don’t want to stay in a boring house all day long while you talk on the phone!”

  “Chloe, that’s enough. If the camp doesn’t have room for you, that’s the way it is.”

  “You think I’m a little poop, too, don’t you?” Chloe’s chin was definitely quivering now. “That’s why you don’t want me in your camp. You don’t like me, either.”

  “Oh, honey, that’s not true. We just have rules about how many children we can have in our camp.”

  “I would be really good. You wouldn’t even know I’m here. Oh, please, Sage!”

  She studied them both—Chloe so dejected and her father resigned. She had to wonder how much pride he had forced himself to swallow for his daughter’s sake to bring her here and ask Sage for a favor.

  How could she disappoint them?

  “We’re at capacity,” she finally said, “but I think we can probably find room to squeeze in one more.”

  “You mean it? Really?” The girl looked afraid to hope.

  Sage nodded and Chloe squealed with delight and hugged her again. “Yes! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

  Sage hugged her in return. “You’re welcome. You’re going to have to work hard and listen to me and the other grown-ups, though.”

  “I will. I’ll be super super good.”

  Sage glanced up to meet Eben’s gaze and found him watching her with that same odd, slightly thunderstruck expression she had seen him wear earlier that morning. She didn’t fathom it—nor did she quite understand why it made her insides tremble.

  “I’m busy with the class out here,” she spoke briskly to hide her reaction, “but if you go inside the center, Amy can provide you with the registration information. Tell her I said we could make an exception this once and add one more camper beyond our usual limit.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Benedetto.” One corner of his mouth lifted into a relieved smile and the trembling in her stomach seemed to go into hyperdrive, much like the Harder twins after a little sugar.

  Somehow that slight smile made him look even more attractive and her reaction to it alarmed her.

  “Amy will give you a list of supplies you will need to provide for Chloe.” Annoyance at herself sharpened her voice. “She’s going to need waterproof boots and a warmer jacket this afternoon when we go out to Haystack, though we can probably scrounge something for her today.”

  “Thank you.”

  “May I go with the other children?” Chloe asked, her green eyes gleaming with eagerness.

  “Sure,” Sage said. She and Eben watched Chloe race to the picnic table and squeeze into a spot between two girls of similar ages, who slid over to make room for her.

  She turned back to Eben. “Our class ends at four, whether your conference calls are done or not.”

  He sent her a swift look. “I’ll be sure to hang up on my attorneys if they run long. I wouldn’t want to keep you waiting.”

  “It’s not me you would be letting down. It’s Chloe.”

  His mouth tightened with clear irritation but she watched in fascination as he carefully pushed it away and resumed a polite expression. “Thank you again for accommodating Chloe. I know you’re stretching the rules for her and I do appreciate it.”

  Without waiting for an answer, he turned around and walked toward the center. She watched him go, that fast, take-no-prisoners stride eating up the beach.

  What a disagreeable man. He ought to have a British accent for all the stuffy reserve in his voice.

  She sighed. Too bad he had to be gorgeous. Someone with his uptight personality ought to have the looks to match, tight, thin lips, a honker of a nose, and squinty pale eyes set too close together.

  Instead, Eben Spencer had been blessed with stunning green eyes, wavy dark hair and lean, chiseled features.

  Didn’t matter, she told herself. In her book, personality mattered far more than looks and by all indications Eben Spencer scored a big fat zero in that department.

  “Ms. B., Ms. B.! What’s this one? Lindsey doesn’t know.”

  She turned back to the picnic table. She had work to do, she reminded herself sternly. She needed to keep her attention tightly focused on her day camp and the thirteen children in it—not on particularly gorgeous hotel magnates with all the charm of a spiny urchin.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Your daughter will just love the day camp.” The bubbly receptionist inside the office delivered a thousand-watt smile out of white teeth in perfect alignment as she handed him the papers.

  “It’s one of our most popular summer activities,” she went on. “People come from all over to bring their children to learn about the rocky shore and the kids just eat it up. And our camp director is just wonderful. The children all adore her. Sometimes I think she’s just a big kid herself.”

  He raised an eyebrow, his mind on Sage Benedetto, and her honey-blond curls, lush curves and all that blatant sensuality.

  “Is that right?” he murmured.

  The receptionist either didn’t catch his dry tone or chose to ignore him. He voted for the former.

  “You should see her when they’re tide-pooling, in her big old boots and a grin as big as the Haystack. Sage knows everything about the coastal ecosystem. She can identify every creature in a tide pool in an instant and can tell you what they eat, how they reproduce and who their biggest predator might be. She’s just amazing.”

  He didn’t want to hear the receptionist gush about Sage Benedetto. He really preferred to know as little about her as possible. He had already spent the morning trying to shake thoughts of her out of his head so he could focus on business.

  He smiled politely. “That’s good to hear. I’m relieved Chloe will be in competent hands.”

  “Oh, you won’t find better hands anywhere on the coast, I promise,” she assured him.

  For a brief second, he had a wickedly inappropriate reaction to that bit of information, but with determined effort, he managed to channel his attention back to the registration papers in front of them.

  He quickly read over and signed every document required—just a little more paperwork than he usually faced when purchasing a new hotel.

  He didn’t mind the somewhat exorbitant fee or the tacked-on late-registration penalty. If not for Sage and her summer camp, his options would have been severely limited.

  He didn’t have high hopes that the agency in Portland would find someone quickly, which would probably mean he would have to cancel the entire trip and abandon the conference calls scheduled for the week or fly in his assistant to keep an eye on Chloe, something neither Chloe nor Betsy would appreciate.

  No, Sage Benedetto had quite likely saved a deal that was fiercely important to Spencer Hotels.

  He would have liked to surrender Chloe to someone a little more…restrained…but he wasn’t going to quibble.

  “All right. She’s all set, registered for the entire week. Now, you know you’re going to need to provide your daughter with a pai
r of muck boots and rain-gear, right?”

  “Ms. Benedetto already informed me of that. I’ll be sure Chloe is equipped with everything she needs tomorrow.”

  “Here’s the rest of the list of what you need.”

  “Thank you.”

  He took it from her with a quick glance at his watch. He was supposed to be talking to his advertising team in New York in twenty minutes and he wasn’t sure he was going to make it.

  Outside, steely clouds had begun to gather with the capriciousness of seaside weather. Even with them, the view was stunning, with dramatic sea stacks offshore and a wide sandy beach that seemed to stretch for miles.

  He shifted his gaze to the group of children still gathered around the picnic table. Chloe looked as if she had settled right in. As she chattered to one of the other girls, her eyes were bright and happy in a way he hadn’t seen in a long time.

  He was vastly relieved, grateful to see her natural energy directed toward something educational and fun instead of toward getting into as much trouble as humanly possible for an eight-year-old girl.

  This next few days promised to be difficult with all the new conditions Stanley Wu was imposing on the sale of his hotel. Having a good place for Chloe to go during the day would ease his path considerably.

  His attention twisted to the woman standing at the head of the table. In khaki slacks and a navy-blue knit shirt, Sage Benedetto should have looked stern and official. But she was laughing at something one of the children said, her blond curls escaping a loose braid.

  With her olive-toned skin and blonde hair, she looked exotic and sensual. Raw desire tightened his gut but he forced himself to ignore it as he walked the short distance to the cluster of children.

  Chloe barely looked up when he approached. “I’m leaving,” he told her. “I’ll be back this afternoon to pick you up.”

  “Okay. Bye, Daddy,” she chirped, then immediately turned her attention back to the other girls and their activity as if she had already forgotten his presence.