Teacup Novellas 02 - Strike the Match Read online

  Keri traced the rim of her coffee mug. “And what would that be?”

  “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help. I mean that. Anything at all.”

  She studied his face again, wanting to throw back a sarcastic response in light of his pseudo-attempt at compassion. But Keri couldn’t find it in her. Maybe I’m just exhausted. Maybe I just need to sleep or something. I can’t even think straight right now. But hard as she tried, she couldn’t think of a thing to say. She took another deep breath and tried to smile, quite sure it never reached her eyes.

  Nita cleared her throat. “Well, now that you mention it, Grant, would you give some thought to the possibility of Keri working for you at the paper?”

  “Aunt Nita! I wouldn’t—”

  “Oh come on now, Keri. You know it’s unlikely your father will be able to hire you now. So why not just make lemonade out of your madness and get some experience working for a real newspaper?”

  “Lemonade out of my madness? I don’t even know how to respond to that. And for the record, I would hardly call The Waterford Weekly a ‘real newspaper.’ Give me a break. It’s nothing more than a silly little rag. Always has been.”

  Nita squeezed her hand. “Keri, that’s out of line. Grant has done a wonderful job with our paper, and if I was you, I’d watch my tongue before saying something so rude.” She looked across the table. “Grant, I apologize for my niece. She’s normally a very kind and considerate young lady.”

  Keri blew out a huff. “Fine. I’m rude. I’m out of line. I’m sorry. I believe I mentioned it’s already been a really long day. So if you’ll excuse me,” she said, gathering her rain gear and standing up, “I need to get out to the site. Shep, it was nice to meet you after all these years.”

  He nodded.

  “Nita, as soon as you’re done here, drive up to the Blankenship’s . . . or what’s left of it. Dad should arrive shortly.”

  Nita leveled a look at her, exhaling. “Will do, honey.”

  Keri pushed her hat on her head and climbed into her raincoat, not making eye contact with Grant. “Mr. Dawson.”

  “Keri.”

  Chapter 4

  “Oh Daddy.” She fell into her father’s embrace, trying so hard not to cry. He needed her to be strong. She inhaled the comforting fatherly scent, catching a trace of his familiar aftershave and a hint of the cigar that always surfaced when he got stressed. She was thankful the rain had stopped so she could hug him, unencumbered by an umbrella.

  “How’re you doing, pumpkin?” He held on tight longer than usual, kissing the top of her head.

  “I’m okay, Dad.” She pulled back just enough to look up into his face. “The question is, how are you?”

  He rubbed his nose against her forehead, then stepped to her side, tucking her safely under his arm. “It was bad enough on the drive home, trying to imagine it all. But seeing this . . . I just can’t believe it.” His voice broke.

  Keri fought the lump surfacing in her throat. “I know. I see it with my own eyes, but I still don’t believe it. I’m almost glad you weren’t here to see the flames. It was surreal.” She tightened her arm around his waist. “And heartbreaking.”

  He inhaled, obviously trying to buck up his emotion. “That it is, sweetheart.” He took hold of her hand and walked toward the huge skeleton still draped in whiffs of smoke here and there. “I talked to our insurance folks on the way in. They can’t close the investigation until they determine whether or not it was arson. And they can’t pay me until the investigation is closed.” He sighed. “Typical insurance red tape.”

  “You think it could be arson? Who would do such a thing?”

  Before Tyler could answer, Carson pulled up and stepped out of his pickup. “Lord have mercy, what a mess.”

  Tyler gave his foreman a quick hug, shaking his head continually. “What a mess. What a loss.”

  They talked at length trying to decide what to do until a cause was determined.

  “The crew said not to worry about them, Tyler. In fact, I think they’re more worried about you. They know how much you had at stake here.”

  Tyler took a quick swipe of his eyes and let out a long sigh. “We need to take care of them, Carson. Any chance we could go ahead and give them their Christmas bonuses just to tide them over?”

  Carson winced. “I’m not sure you want to do that, Tyler. At least until you get some answers. You may not have the funds for that bonus.”

  Another long sigh.

  Keri couldn’t bear seeing her father in such pain. She wandered away from them, stepping under the yellow crime scene tape that stretched around the perimeter of the home. Eventually she approached the once beautiful stone fireplace, now blackened with smoke. She searched her heart, wishing she had some encouraging words of wisdom to offer her father and his foreman. A sick feeling rolled through her stomach.

  She’d seen more than just disappointment and heartache in her father’s eyes. She’d heard more than mere frustration or stress in the tone of his voice. Despair. That’s what it is. Dad’s never been the kind to let despair overcome him. So why now? Sure, his show house is destroyed, but he can build again, right?

  She kicked absently at the soggy ash on the ruined floor beneath her as her thoughts continued on a downward spiral. Nita’s right. He probably can’t afford to pay me as planned. I’ll work for him, but I can’t expect a dime. He’ll need every dime he can find.

  Nita’s van pulled up. Her aunt stepped out of the vehicle, immediately into the waiting arms of her brother. Keri was glad to be out of hearing distance. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could hold it in. She watched as Nita held onto her brother, quite sure she was crying as evidenced by the familiar handkerchief he held out to her. They talked a while longer before Nita called out to her.

  “Sweetie, I told your father I’ll cook an early dinner at your house tonight, okay? We’ll regroup and talk through all this then.”

  Keri closed the gap between them. “Sure, Nita. I’ll be home later to help. Call if you need me to pick up anything. “

  “Sure thing,” Nita answered. “Carson, you’re welcome to join us.”

  “Thanks, Nita. I’ll try to stop by.”

  “Bye y’all. Just take a big ol’ deep breath. We’ll get through this. God’s with us. He always is.”

  She drove off, leaving a dull ache in Keri’s heart. If only she believed like her aunt believed. Instead, all she could think was—how could a loving God let something like this happen?

  Keri cleared away the dinner dishes as Nita cut generous slices of apple pie and topped them with vanilla ice cream. “Sweetie, how about giving us all a refill with that decaf?”

  Keri topped off their mugs and sat back down at the cozy kitchen table with them. They continued the troubled conversation.

  “Any word from Bud?” Carson asked. Bud Curtis had been Waterford Bay’s sheriff for more than twenty years.

  “He asked us to stay off the property as much as possible so we don’t tamper with any potential evidence.”

  Keri hoped they hadn’t destroyed any evidence when they’d been on the property earlier. “So he thinks it’s arson?”

  “No, he didn’t say that. Just trying to be careful until the insurance folks get here and get a look.”

  Nita set her mug down. “Seems to me they should be here by now. Where are they coming from, China?”

  Keri noticed her dad’s lame attempt to smile. “No, they’re wrapping up an investigation in Portland. Pretty bad one, from what I hear. Storage area at Powell’s. Completely destroyed.”

  “Oh no,” Keri moaned, remembering long afternoons browsing the famous bookstore. “Any damage to the bookstore itself?”

  “Couldn’t tell you. I just wish those folks would hurry up and get here. I can’t stand the suspense much longer.” He pinched the bridge of his nose then rubbed his eyes.

  “Why, Dad? I mean, I realize you need to know what caused the fire and find out what the in
surance will pay. But what aren’t you telling me?”

  He wrapped his hands around his coffee mug, his brow taking a dive. “What haven’t I told you? A lot. Because I haven’t wanted you to worry.”

  Nita quietly set her fork back on her pie plate. Carson sat perfectly still. Keri felt sure someone had sucked the oxygen out of the room. “Dad, what is it?”

  “Well, sweetheart, the fact is . . . if this turns out badly, I could be facing bankruptcy.”

  Now the oxygen disappeared from her body as well. “What? How can that be? Yours is one of the most successful log cabin companies in Oregon! Surely one fire can’t put you out of business?”

  Tyler closed his eyes. “Normally, it wouldn’t. But these aren’t normal times.”

  “The economy has flattened our sales for the last five years, Keri,” Carson added. “We kept building, kept hoping it would turn around. Instead it got worse.”

  “But that’s the nature of construction, isn’t it?” Keri heard the fear in her own voice. She took a deep breath. “I mean, you’ve weathered the ups and downs before. Why is this any different?”

  Tyler scraped at the pie’s crust with his fork. “Because it’s just bad, honey. Real bad.”

  Nita placed her hand gently over her brother’s. “Ty, you’ll get through this. I know God will see you through.”

  “Sis, I wish I could believe that. But the problem is, I sunk everything into the Blankenship project. Everything. All my cash was tied up in it. Every penny. I’m up to my eyeballs on this one.”

  Keri couldn’t even blink. Now it all made sense. The despair. Her father hadn’t just seen one of his projects go up in smoke; he was watching his entire livelihood disappear in that smoke as well.

  She couldn’t breathe, seeing her father react this way. She slowly stood up, taking her half-eaten dessert to the kitchen counter. A thousand thoughts pelted her mind as she absently scraped the pastry into the garbage disposal. How had it come to this? How had her father backed himself into such an impossible corner? What on earth would they do if he lost his business?

  She looked out the window into the darkness outside. Troubling images flashed through her mind. Then it hit her. She realized what she was staring at . . . the delicate saucer sitting on the windowsill.

  “Dad, where’s Mom’s cup?”

  Silence.

  She turned around. Her dad avoided her eyes and covered his face with his hands. “I broke it, Keri.”

  The last trace of oxygen, gone. “Wha . . .”

  “It was an accident. I was cleaning the window. I should’ve moved the cup and saucer first, but I just wasn’t thinking. It shattered into a thousand pieces. I’m so sorry.”

  She continued staring at him, swallowing hard against the pain in her chest. Don’t say anything. He’s had enough trouble for one day. Let it go. Just let it go . . .

  Nita came to her side. “We didn’t want to tell you, sweetie. We know how much it meant to you. Your father’s felt awful about this for weeks now.”

  Tyler raised his head, his eyes glistening.

  She dropped the dish rag and excused herself, heading for the front door.

  “Keri, don’t leave. Let’s talk about—”

  She grabbed her coat and ran out the door just as the dam inside her heart broke.

  Grant flipped on the windshield wipers, hoping the last remnant of wiper fluid would clean up the mess marring his view. He’d told his father he’d be over after he put the paper to rest. He was looking forward to unwinding with his dad for a couple of hours. He loved the drive, especially at night, with the harbor lights reflecting across the choppy black waves. The sight of the lighthouse this close was still a thrill even after all these months. There was just something alluring and mysterious and . . .

  His thoughts were interrupted by the headlights of a vehicle parked at the base of the lighthouse. Is that Keri’s car? He quickly pulled off the road barely making the entrance to the lighthouse parking lot. He pulled up alongside the black Jeep Cherokee, curious when he found it empty. He stepped out of his truck and, finding the door unlocked, opened the car door and turned off the headlights. Thankful for the lighted sidewalk, he made his way toward the overlook area on the other side of the structure.

  He heard her before he saw her.

  “Keri? Are you okay?”

  She jumped, startled by his voice, even over the roar of the waves below. She quickly wiped at her eyes, and turned her back to him.

  “What do you want?”

  He held his tongue, wondering what in the world he’d ever done to deserve such a constant stream of irritation. It would be so easy to snap back at her. Still, the sight of her tears reflecting in the lights made him refrain. “I was driving out to Dad’s and saw your car parked out front here.”

  “So? Is there a law against visiting a lighthouse after dark?” She blew her nose and took an aggravated breath.

  “No law that I know of. But you left your headlights on. I was afraid it would run down your battery.”

  She finally looked up at him. “Oh. Well. You didn’t have to do that, but thanks. I’ll go turn them off.”

  “Already did. But you should lock your car, you know. Even in Waterford Bay we have crime from time to time.”

  “Thank you for that news flash, Mr. Big Time Reporter. I’ll try to remember that.”

  He moved closer, then took a seat on the other end of the park bench she was sitting on. “Are you okay?”

  He waited for another snippy reply. It didn’t come. He cocked his head to one side for a better angle. “Keri?”

  “It’s all I had of her.”

  “What? Had of who?”

  “My mother. That cup and saucer were the only heirlooms of hers I had.”

  “Did you lose them?”

  “No. But Dad accidentally broke the cup. It shattered.”

  He had no clue what was wrong but one thing he had no question about. This was not the same Keri he’d sparred with earlier. She was broken.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Nita told me your mother died when you were born. I’m sure it wasn’t easy growing up without her.” He looked out at the dark expanse of water, giving her time to respond. When she didn’t, he asked, “Would you like to tell me about it?”

  She looked at him for a split second then away. “Uncle Rafe, Aunt Nita’s husband, was a war correspondent back in the seventies. He was in Yugoslavia, behind the Iron Curtain, reporting for the Associated Press. My mother was around twenty at the time. She worked at the hotel where he was staying. Uncle Rafe never met a stranger and he became friends with her. He was already married to Nita by then, so he was like a big brother to my mom. He said they’d talk for hours in the evening when she got off work.

  “It must have been hard for her, living in a communist state where people just vanished in the night. Her own grandparents had been gunned down when she was younger. She lived in constant fear. She tried to get her parents to leave, but they were too afraid.

  “Then one day, she asked Uncle Rafe if he would help her escape to the United States.”

  “Pretty gutsy thing to do at her age,” Grant commented.

  “They tell me she was a pretty gutsy girl, even back then. Rafe pulled some strings, used his connections, and engineered a very elaborate plan to help her escape. Literally, in the dark of night, he snuck her out of the country. Like something out of a spy novel, you know? He brought her back here. He and Nita took her under their wings and became her sponsors. She was eventually granted political asylum. She owed her life to them.”

  “And the cup and saucer? Something she brought with her?” Grant asked.

  “The only thing she brought. Other than a couple changes of clothes. She wrapped it in a sweater in a small bag. It made the trip without a single chip.” She took a deep breath and continued. “It was a part of her family’s dinnerware. A beautiful hand painted design by Lomonosov. Rafe said she wanted something to remember her parents, and th
ey let her take a single cup and saucer. She knew she’d never see them again.”

  Keri wrapped her knitted scarf more tightly around her neck. “Her name was Nadia. They tell me it was love at first sight when my dad first met her. He was a couple years older, but he was a goner the minute they met. They were married three months later. Nita told me it was the happiest she’d ever seen Tyler. A few months later, they found out they were going to have me.” She smiled. “Nita said that was the second happiest she’d ever seen Dad.”

  A moment passed. The breeze blew her hair around her face before she pushed it back out of her eyes. She dug in her pocket and pulled out a tiny red band that she used to pull her curls into a thick pony tail. “Mom died after giving birth to me,” she said quietly, looking out across the dark waves.

  He said nothing, giving her time to say what was on her mind.

  “Nita told me Dad poured his heart into his business. Buried himself in it. I mean, he was always there for me, but it was hard for him, I’m sure. As I grew older, I loved helping out when I could. I guess it was good therapy for both of us. Which is why his company means so much to him. To both of us . . .”

  He started to say something and let it pass. He knew she was hurting but he couldn’t help it. He liked being here, listening to her, learning more about her.

  “It took me a long time to get over the whole guilt thing. If it hadn’t been for me, Mom would still be alive today.”

  “Keri, surely you don’t —”

  She waved him off. “I know, I know. But try telling that to a young child when she finds out her mother dies giving birth to her. Pretty hard stuff for a kid. But eventually I understood. Still—”

  “What happened to Rafe? Didn’t he die overseas?”

  “Yeah. Fifteen years later, he was sent back to cover the Bosnian war. Same country, just torn into several different pieces. He stayed in the same hotel where he’d met my mother. One night, rebels bombed the hotel, knowing there were lots of foreign correspondents staying there. Uncle Rafe was killed in the attack.”