About a half-mile down the beach she was surprised to see an old-fashioned amusement park—a Ferris wheel and great red-and-white towers of a wooden roller coaster jutted up into the clear sky, and other brightly colored buildings hinted of summer fun. "It's heaven," Oliver said. "Let's stay here forever." "It's heaven," she whispered, watching the tiny figure of the cop far off down the beach. This place felt far apart from the harsh world outside. It was as if here was a place she could start over, be whoever she wanted to be, dream any dream and make it come true. She briefly considered what it would be like to live permanently in a little cottage, in a cute village surrounded by sand and sea and cotton candy, with the chance to just be herself and have nothing to hide.
She unlocked the gate, then turned to face him. "Thank you for your help, Captain Ryan. I can handle it from here." "I'd better see you inside safely." She wondered at what point his obvious impression that she was incompetent would make her either lose her temper—or fall all over him in relief. But since she knew he was right about her, she just shrugged and went through the gate, Oliver and the man trailing behind her.
As soon as the house came into view she realized her prayers for a quick sale had not been answered. She stopped in her tracks. It was a monstrosity. No. That wasn't the word. At least a monstrosity would have adequate square footage. This was... it was indescribable. It was tiny—all of two and a half stories high and still probably smaller than her one-bedroom condo had been. It had obviously been built without a blueprint. It was crooked. She didn't see a straight line anywhere in sight. The roofline was pitched at an angle that defied gravity, with one side climbing toward the sky at a steep slope, and the other side swooping down practically to the ground. "The roof...," she muttered. "Cat slide," Captain Ryan said. "That's what they call that steep, one-sided pitch," he explained to Oliver. Oliver stood, as wide-eyed as she herself must appear, trying to take it all in. "Yeah," he muttered. "A cat would slide right off, huh?"
"The Honeymoon Cottage was the first Stockdale," Captain Ryan said. She didn't have time to ask him what the heck a "stockdale" was, because she was busy walking around the front of the cottage, trying to make sense of it. The walls appeared to be made of stucco in a charming shade of cream-and-mildew, interspersed with huge, rough-hewn beams of what she imagined was ancient redwood. The beams appeared to be barely holding up the walls. Iron sconces framed the door. And the door, a round-topped slab of redwood, obviously hand-carved by a carpenter who didn't own a level, stood proudly off-center in the front wall, flanked by not only the gargoyle-shaped sconces, but also by heavy-framed, diamond-paned windows that arched into unbelievable shapes never imagined by the folks at Home Depot. "Oh, no," she muttered.
"Haven't you been to the Honeymoon Cottage before?" he asked. "Stop calling it that!" she snapped. "Honeymoon cottage—like it's some cozy little getaway for a newlywed couple. Divorce cottage, more like it. One look and the marriage broke up." "The house then. You haven't seen the house." "House? This isn't a house. It's—it's—" She was at a loss. A complete loss. All her plans for a quick sale and a getaway to a new life were shot in this one, first glimpse of— "—It looks like it was built by a drunken leprechaun," she finally said. Unexpectedly, the taciturn captain chuckled. "I think that's the best description of a Stockdale cottage I've ever heard." He pushed open the door, which wasn't even locked. Why would it be? Who would want to break in? The iron hinges on the door gave way with a creak straight out of an old horror movie. He ushered them inside. "We might as well see the rest." She went in. It was a mess. The walls were as crooked inside as they had appeared from the outside, the diamond-pane windows were missing glass in several spots, and there was ample evidence that something—she prayed it wasn't raccoons—had taken up residence in the middle of the living room floor. "I think it's neat," said Oliver. He ran over to the fireplace. "See all the different pictures!" He started tracing out patterns in the ceramic tiles framing the fireplace. "This one's a squirrel!" Numb, Camilla followed him over to the fireplace. He was right. It was beautiful. Under the grime and slime, the fireplace was covered in handmade embossed tiles. There were trees and starfish and suns, all in rich browns and golds and greens—many greens, from pale moss to deep forest. More and more came to light with every sweep of Oliver's hands against the dirty surface. It smelled of mold.
"This cottage is worth a lot of money," the man behind her said. "Why?" she said sarcastically. "You get a lot of drunken leprechauns around here needing housing?" "You don't know? It's a Stockdale. Built by Jefferson Stockdale. The architect." "Using the term loosely," she muttered. "The village is littered with them. People come from all over the place just to see them. Postcards, walking tours, they even filmed an old TV series here years ago. You know—about that old lady who solved mysteries." "I don't think this place is on the tourist maps." "Not now. But a little repair, a little spit and polish—" She pulled at a loose tile on the hearth and it came off in a cascade of decayed grout and mouse droppings. "—Okay, a lot of spit and polish. But this place is full of history. If you own it, you're sitting on a gold mine." He was talking a lot. The silent captain had become very chatty all of a sudden. "How do you know?" He froze, as if he realized he was revealing too much, and then said, "Um, I know somebody who inherited one." "How nice for them," she said. Then the words "gold mine" sunk in. "You think I can get a good price for it? The real estate agent told me it just needed a bit of fixing up." He looked around the room. "Your real estate agent is an optimist. I imagine it'll take some money to hire the team of specialists...." "I'm doing the work myself. Yes," she added at his skeptical look. "I have experience with—well, not with this sort of house, but with normal houses." He looked down at her from his six-foot-two. "Really?" "Yes, really. My father did construction." When he wasn't in jail. She looked him in the eye, glad she hadn't said that last part aloud. "I am capable of taking care of myself, Captain Knight." "I don't doubt you," he said, but she didn't believe him. She went to the front door, and held it open. He still stood in the middle of the room, as if he wanted to say something more. "Thank you for your help, Captain." She looked at him pointedly and he finally came over to where she stood. Again she felt that surge of adrenalin as he invaded her personal space.
She had no room to step back, with the redwood door behind her and the tree of a man only a foot in front of her. He stood there for another few seconds while she held her breath. Some insane part of her wanted to ask him to stay: Don't go. It's all too much for me. I want you to help. But luckily her mind was stronger than that idiotic thought. She stood silently and finally he stepped through the door and walked up the path to the street. She watched him go. At last he was out of her life. But long after the gate creaked shut, and the SUV's engine roared to life, and the sound of the tires crunching on the gravel faded in the distance, she still stood there, her thumb rubbing over the gold embossed badge on the business card. "What's for dinner?" Oliver's voice cut into her swirling thoughts. She realized her face was damp with evening fog, and the sun was almost completely gone. It would be dark soon, and she didn't even know if the place had working lights. She turned to Oliver. "Macaroni and cheese for dinner. Assuming there's a stove. Let's find out." She held out her hand to him and they went to find the kitchen.
~~~~
As soon as I read the description of this tiny house, I could hear the song in my head: "There was a crooked man, who..." and I was hooked to know more about what would happen in this tiny crooked home... Lee has a fascinating way of building each of her main characters, who readers will naturally assume that they will come together sooner or later, LOL. The antagonism had started on Camilla's part as soon as they met, even though it was the situation and the fact that Ryan was a cop that had been called by a shop owner who thought there was a potential sale of stolen property going on... Yeah, it's going to be that type of tense relationship between two of the nicest people--you can tell by their actions--that you might want to meet.
But both of them had a past that they didn't want to share, especially when one was a cop...
It was rather a strange entrance into Pajaro Bay. She was out of gas, needed money quickly to get more, while swearing she had just filled the car with gas 50 miles before. She also had a young boy with her but no father. And, further, when they got to her new home, she admitted she had never seen it nor knew what type of house, and condition, it was in. Having to sleep on the floor was just the beginning of the new life they needed to adjust to!
The last thing he needed was a woman wearing freckles and a halo, a little boy who loved trucks, a glimpse of goodness and honesty that was impossible for him to ever know again. It was a vision of something beyond this empty, echoing life. Something he had forgotten even existed. And now these innocents walked into his life and tempted him to see goodness and forget the horrors that lurked just beneath the surface.
At least until she sold the cottage... and with that money reclaim her identity as far as a profession goes. Ryan has him own back story and had already submitted his resignation... Which, after meeting Camilla and finding himself attracted to her, has already put him in a quandary as he soon realizes that the feeling seems to be mutual and both are unwilling to consider the alternative to their respective plans...
Enough of that. But even as she scolded herself she had to smile. She was feeling so much better after a good sleep that even the thought of the overbearing cop couldn't dampen her spirits. Oddly, crashing in a sleeping bag on the floor of this tiny cottage had given her the best night's sleep she'd had in weeks. Outside the diamond-pane windows, the sea had whispered all night, and the fog had cocooned Oliver and her from the outside world. All had felt warm and cozy inside. She'd finally gotten the deep restful sleep she had so desperately needed. It was as if the cottage was holding them safe in its arms. Nice feeling, even if it was merely a result of exhaustion and stress.
I don't want to share too much about the details other than to say that a serial killer is involved. Also involved is an ongoing con man activity that results in Ryan finally concluding that he needed to begin a full-scale investigation. In the meantime, he got permission to provide ongoing security at the cottage, where their relationship continued to bloom.
The young boy is a very special character, because he has his own secrets of the past. But he is now loved and wanted and as the story goes on, Camilla made an internal commitment to ensure that Oliver becomes confident that she will not disappear like his father did... That decision also provided a new strength in her decisions about her past and future.
There was something about the way she looked at him. She wasn't going to take life's problems lying down. She was facing her troubles with that cute little button nose up and a stubborn set to her jaw. There was something admirable about her. The awareness that she was alone in the world, without a penny to her name, but she wasn't going to stop trying until she found a way out of the mess in which she found herself. He wished he had her faith that everything would work out, if one only kept trying.
This is such a delightful, heartwarming story, with an underlying note to readers that, no matter what has happened in your life, there is still a chance to survive and return joy to your future... The characters are wonderfully created, giving readers a chance to both boo-hiss and rejoice of the people in the Pajaro Bay community. With a surprise and shocking climatic event! Highly recommended!
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