The Chesapeake Bride Page 2

  “I’m ready when you are.”

  Owen had hung up, but the implications of what Jared had told him kept him awake until after midnight. If a sunken vessel of any kind was found in the river, the builders’ construction timetable could be delayed until the vessel and whatever else might be down there had been identified and properly recorded. Depending on what they found, the dredging for the new dock could be scrapped indefinitely. The permits for the first new construction on Cannonball Island in over a hundred years could be put on hold.

  Owen was still thinking about the phone call when he awoke that morning, wondering how the builder, Brian Deiter, was taking the news of the delay, assuming he’d already been told. Specifically, Owen was wondering what the project’s architect, the builder’s daughter, Cass Logan, would think.

  The builder’s beautiful blond daughter had made it clear she was immune to Owen’s charm and good looks. Oh, she’d always been friendly enough in the past whenever they would run into each other, but she’d never hesitated to let him know she had absolutely no interest in him. Since he was unaccustomed to women ignoring him, Cass occupied a special place in his thoughts. He’d never walked away from a challenge.

  He was still thinking about her, wondering what it was going to take to change her mind about him, while he stood on the landing and watched the sun glint off the river. He went down the remaining steps and peeked into the store. Finding Ruby busy with a customer, he went out to the porch and back to his favorite rocking chair.

  A few minutes later, the door behind him opened, and he heard Ruby’s deliberate footfall as she stepped outside.

  “You thinkin’ on settin’ all day?” Ruby Carter walked to the edge of the porch, her eyes narrowing as she challenged him with her stare.

  “Maybe.” Owen flashed a smile and patted the arm of the chair next to his. “Sit with me for a bit?”

  “Maybe for a bit.” Ruby sat. “Something on your mind?”

  “Did you ever hear about any vessels sinking in or around the mouth of the river over on the southwest side of the island?”

  Ruby established what she called her rocking rhythm before she responded. “Many a something gone down out there over time.”

  “Like what?”

  “Hard to know truth from tale, but it been said one of those merchant ships went down with some tea, back in the day. Before we came to the island.”

  “You mean before the War of 1812, when the loyalists in St. Dennis were forced to leave and sent here to the island?”

  “Way before that. Course, no one be living on the island then, nothing here but shrub pine and salt marsh. Townsfolk forced some to pack up and leave, thinking they’d die out here.” She smiled. “Showed them a thing or two.”

  Ruby’s ancestors had been among those loyal to the crown of England when the War of 1812 broke out. When several of St. Dennis’s patriot sons had been conscripted by British warships, angry townsmen had forced the loyalists onto the uninhabited island across the sound. Somehow the exiles had survived despite having to build their shelters out of the small pines that grew there and having to subsist on what they could catch from the bay and raise in hastily planted gardens. Over time, a little colony was established, and those who thrived were proud of their rebellious heritage of having defied the odds.

  “What was the story you heard about the merchant ship?” Owen sat back in his chair and waited.

  “Well, I heard tell about a man from over to Virginia, owned some of those big ships. Brought tea and pottery and such from England—indentured servants, too—took back tobacco and wheat and whatever. The folks over to Annapolis decided they didn’t want English tea coming into Maryland—this was after the folks in Massachusetts threw all that tea up there into the water. When ships came in with tea, they sent them back to England. Some of the ships stayed in the harbor too long—they got burned with the cargo still aboard. ’Cept the indentured folks, a’course.” Ruby rocked, her eyes on the bay. “Seems one of them ships owned by this Virginia fellow tried to make it up the river here to hide from the folks who wanted to burn it. Storm struck outta nowhere, smashed the ship on the shoals out there in the bay, near the mouth of the river. That big ship went down, everything with it, so they said.”

  Owen frowned. “Gigi, there aren’t any shoals in the bay near the mouth of the river.”

  “Maybe not this day, but back then, there be shoals. That tea ship not the only one that broke up there.”

  Owen knew the changing currents in the bay had, over time, built up some sections and flattened others. Sand and silt pushed by one fierce storm might later have been redirected by another.

  “What else had you heard?”

  “I heard some tell of early people who had a settlement on the other side of the river, thereabouts, be lost when the land sank. Maybe be down there near that tea ship.”

  “You mean there was a Native American settlement on the shore across from the island?”

  Ruby nodded. “Native of these parts for sure, been here long before our people.”

  “And you think it sank into the bay?” Owen thought about the stories he’d heard over the years, about how many islands in the bay had disappeared when the water rose.

  “Lots of places be sunk. Whole islands downwind of here be lost, too. Houses, all went into the bay.”

  “But there were warnings, right? The water levels shifted gradually and the shoreline eroded.” Owen recalled the stories of Chesapeake islands totally disappearing without a trace and knew they were true.

  “Bit by bit the waters rose, ate away at the land, ate the ground right out from under trees and such, whole houses slid right on into the bay. Still, some folks ignored what was happening, barely had time to get their goods to dry land. Soon enough, whole islands where folks lived and worked and farmed were eaten alive by the bay, and that be the truth. Holland Island, Cockneys Island, Eastern Neck Island—all be gone. Others, too.”

  “Why do you suppose Cannonball Island has been able to remain intact?”

  Ruby continued to rock. “No way to tell for sure, but we haven’t had a direct hit by one of them big hurricanes since I was a girl. We get the rain, but it seems not the worst of the winds. No telling why. Last real big storm I remember hit hard took a few pines off the point, nothing more.”

  “You really think there could be the remains of a settlement down there?”

  “All be down there at one time, not for me to say what still is or isn’t. Folks say that was a summer village, early folks come to grow wheat and feed off the bay. Winter comes, they go elsewhere. I never did hear tell where. But like I said, water shifts things, moves things around as it pleases. No telling where things be now.” She glanced at Owen over the top of her glasses. “Seems to me those new machines y’all have should be able to say.”

  A car pulled into the store’s parking lot and drove around toward the back. Owen watched his sister’s old sedan come to a stop.

  “Hey, Gigi. Owen.” Lis waved as she approached. “Break time?”

  “We just sitting and chatting,” Ruby told her. “You feel free to sit and chat, too, Lisbeth.”

  “I just stopped by to see if you needed any help unloading boxes in the store. I know today’s delivery day.” Lis sat on the top step and turned so she was facing her brother and great-grandmother. She was dark haired, like Owen, and slender. Their features were similar, both having inherited wide-set eyes the same shade of green, and dimpled cheeks.

  “Already taken care of,” Owen told her.

  “Oh, my, aren’t we the efficient one.” Lis stretched out her legs. “So Alec tells me there’s going to be a delay in building the dock.”

  “That’s the word.”

  “So where does that leave your girlfriend? Think she’ll stay around during the delay?” Lis smirked.

  Owen scowled. “If you’re referring to Cass Logan, she’s not my girlfriend, and I have no idea what her plans are.”

  “Jare
d might know. They looked pretty cozy chatting in the lobby at the inn yesterday. I stopped in to see Grace about borrowing folding chairs for the wedding, and I just happened to walk through the lobby to Grace’s office.” Lis grinned. “Jared is such a stud. If I’d known you had such hunky friends, I might have learned to dive myself.”

  “Lisbeth, you just being a brat, tweaking your brother’s nose like that.” Ruby tried unsuccessfully to hold back a chuckle. “And you, Owen, if you have an interest in that girl, best you be man enough to speak up, before someone else has a mind to.”

  “Someone else might already have done so,” Lis said.

  “All right, that’s enough. Yes, I admit I have somewhat of a casual interest in Cass.” Owen nudged at Lis’s outstretched leg with his foot. “She doesn’t seem very interested in me.”

  “What? What did you say?” Lis cupped a hand up to her ear. “It almost sounded as if you admitted you’d met a woman who seems impervious to your legendary charm.”

  “I know. Hard to believe. But then, I suppose it was only a matter of time.” He pretended to be crestfallen.

  “Well, there’s still that redhead who started to work at Steffie’s ice cream shop a few weeks ago. Maybe a little young for you, though. Thirty-eight would be almost another generation to her.”

  “Yeah, but those were thirty-eight fun-filled, action-packed years.” Owen stood, and Ruby shifted in her chair, about to stand as well. Both Lis and Owen moved to give her a hand.

  “I’m able to stand and walk on my own, thank you both very much.” Ruby straightened her back. “Time to be getting back inside, see what needs to be done. And I got a new book that came in the mail yesterday, not going to read itself.”

  “Another gory story of murder and mayhem? It kills me that you love those creepy stories.” Lis pretended to shudder.

  “They just be made-up, Lisbeth. That’s why they call them fiction books.”

  “Whatever floats your boat,” Lis conceded. “You need me to do anything, Gigi?”

  “Owen took care of the shelves and swept up the floor. Filled the coolers and changed a lightbulb. No, I’m good for today.” Ruby made her way into the store. “Tomorrow’s another day, though, so stop back.”

  “She never fails to amaze me,” Lis said after the door closed.

  “Me, too. She’s barely slowed down since we were kids.”

  “I hope I’m as hardy as she is when I’m one hundred. If I’m lucky enough to live that long.”

  “You’ve got a shot at it. Only the good die young.”

  Lis hopped down the two steps to the ground. “But seriously, about Cass? Just a little sisterly advice: if you’re interested, speak up. I don’t know what her story is, but Cass Logan is not a woman who’s going to be alone for too long.”

  “How do you know she’s not involved with someone, someplace else?”

  Lis shrugged. “I don’t know for sure, but she doesn’t have a settled look about her. Of course, you’re the one with the ‘sight,’ not me. I’m surprised you haven’t already figured her out.”

  “You know I don’t do that.” Owen frowned.

  “Ruby says it isn’t something you ‘do’ or ‘not do.’ It’s something you have or don’t have. You and Ruby have it. I, on the other hand, do not. Which I never thought was fair, by the way.” Lis started toward her car. “I never understood why you and not me.”

  “I’d gladly hand it off if I could.” He stood on the porch, leaning on one of the posts. “It’s not something I ever wanted.”

  “Ah, so you admit it.” She stopped near the car’s front fender and turned. “You admit you have the Carter eye.”

  “Maybe. But not for Cass.”

  “What do you mean, not for her?”

  “I mean, maybe I have some kind of second sight, but it doesn’t seem to apply to her. Not to anyone I’m close to. I never could read you or Ruby. I have no idea how it works.” He shrugged and lowered his voice. “I can’t read Cass.”

  “Aha! So you have tried.”

  He shook his head. “I never have to try. The knowing is always just there. But I admit, if I did, I might try to read her.”

  “Huh.” Lis seemed to think this over for a moment. “How ’bout that?”

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” She opened her car door. “ ’Cept Ruby always says she could never get a read on her Harold, either.”

  Lis got in and started the car, then backed out of the drive, pausing once to look back and raise a hand to wave. Owen waved back and stepped down onto the grass, walked aimlessly toward Ruby’s garden. He knew all about how Ruby could never get a read on their great-grandfather, always referred to as Ruby’s Harold or, less frequently, Grandpap. Ruby always said it was because they were too close, it would be like reading herself. But that sure as hell wasn’t the case with him and Cass Logan, who made small talk with him but, other than that, never seemed too interested. He wished he knew how to change that because, yeah, much to his annoyance, his sister had been right about one thing.

  If he could get a read on Cass, by any means, he’d take it.

  Chapter Two

  Cass Logan had booked a suite of rooms at the Inn at Sinclair’s Point for a week that had so far stretched into two. She could have gone back to her condo in Baltimore while they awaited the permits for Deiter Construction’s latest project, but she liked the accommodations and was enjoying herself so much she decided to extend her stay. She played tennis every morning, and every other day she went for a bike ride to explore the area. She’d set up her computer on the desk in the suite’s sitting room and spread out her design plans on the coffee table, and though it was only a temporary office, the suite had everything she needed.

  As the lead architect for her father’s company, Cass had designed homes for several of his projects along Maryland’s Chesapeake shores. But this project—Cannonball Island—was special.

  The already-small population of Cannonball Island had been declining for years along with the number of watermen who called the island home. Entire families simply left to seek employment and a life elsewhere, walking away from homes that had been battered by storms for a century or longer. As one former resident whose property was directly across the road from the Chesapeake had put it, “That roof was replaced every eight to ten years for the past fifty. Time to move on.” As a result, the island was dotted with abandoned homes in various stages of disrepair. Deiter Construction had tracked down the owners and purchased the properties at fair market value for the structures and the land with an eye toward building houses that retained the design and flavor of the originals.

  When Cass and her father met with environmental consultant Alec Jansen to discuss the feasibility of development of the island, she’d gotten her first look at those tiny, dilapidated two-hundred-year-old houses. She saw not the rot, but the charm and the serenity of the unspoiled island. She’d imagined expanded floor plans that incorporated reclaimed wood and brick in the new homes. She’d been able to convince her father that her vision was the one that would best sell, and to the surprise of just about everyone—except Cass—Brian had completely scrapped his original plans to build modern structures of glass and steel and gave his daughter the green light to design the project as she saw it.

  Of course, if the houses didn’t sell, she’d have more than a little egg on her face. Her dad was entrusting her with the multimillion-dollar development of valuable land. Cass knew and appreciated the stakes, and she recognized she had a lot to prove. The solution was to make sure no stone was left unturned in making the project as unique and attractive as possible. There were lots of places on the Eastern Shore where a bundle could be dropped on a new home. The Deiter Construction houses on Cannonball Island had to deliver something the others couldn’t. She was still trying to put her finger on exactly what that might be. The use of whatever could be salvaged from each property was important, but there had to be more. She was positive she was on the verge of
finding that elusive something.

  This morning Cass had played her usual hour of tennis and returned to her room with a spring in her step. She brewed coffee in the small coffeemaker and poured a cup, then, still in her tennis whites, went through the open French doors onto her balcony. She liked to feel the cool breeze off the bay while she worked and often took her iPhone with her to sit on one of the comfortable chairs and read her email and make phone calls.

  From her chair she could watch the other guests of the inn go about their activities, and she often did. There was always something to do for those who liked to keep moving, as the inn offered tennis, sailing, canoeing, kayaking, and biking. A library on the first floor had books for rainy days, and organized walking tours of the town were offered. The playground on the far side of the inn had been masterfully planned, and full-time former camp counselors were there to supervise the children should the parents want to spend their time doing something other than watching their kids on the play equipment. The Inn at Sinclair’s Point had more going for it than Cass’s quiet, empty apartment, so there was no mystery in her deciding to stay on while the project was getting under way. Not that Cass disliked her condo, but she’d been alone for months since her divorce became final, and she’d found that too much peace and quiet left her feeling restless. Spending some time at the inn was the perfect antidote.

  She finished reading her email and responding to those requiring a prompt reply, then went to the railing and leaned over to watch a young family cross the lawn on their way to the parking lot. The mother had a child on each hand, and the father carried a third. Something in the man’s stride reminded her of her now-ex-husband, and she felt the slightest pang of regret—not for the divorce, but for the sorry way their marriage had ended.