The Women of Bayberry Cove

“That’s probably a good bet,” Wes said.

Louise inclined her head toward the restaurant door. “You enjoy your breakfast, Commander. By the time you’ve finished, I’ll have signed a two-month lease, and we’ll practically be neighbors.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Wes glanced at the old-timer in the park. Mason was a tough cookie in most of his dealings, but if anyone could talk him into the lease deal of the century, it was Louise. “Why don’t we meet back here in, say, forty-five minutes, and you can let me know how you made out,” Wes suggested. “I’ll even spring for coffee and promise not to pour any on you.”

Amazingly, she seemed to like the idea. “Forty-five minutes it is.” She gave him a grin and left.

“HI. DO YOU REMEMBER ME?” Louise said to the old man sitting under the sprawling oak tree.

He looked at her with surprisingly clear blue eyes that were still apparently capable of appreciating her obvious attributes. Sliding over to give her room on the bench, he motioned for her to sit. “I may be old,” he said, “but my memory’s as fresh as last night’s dew for things that catch my fancy. Did you find your way to Pintail Point yesterday?”

She sat, then angled toward him with her elbow on the back of the bench. “I did. Your directions were perfect. I’m counting on you knowing every little thing about this town. That’s why I’ve come back for your help today.”

He layered his hands over a thick wooden walking stick and appraised her with an intensity that suddenly seemed strangely familiar. “What is it you need, young lady?”

Louise squirmed on the bench seat just a little, suppressing the feeling that she knew this man as more than just a passing acquaintance from the previous day. It was more than his eyes. Though his skin was creased with wrinkles and slack on his face, she detected a once-square jawline, punctuated by a strong chin that thrust forward with authority.

She told him about her search for living quarters and that she was hoping an apartment might be available in town. He nodded, asked her a few questions about her intended length of stay and her reason for being in Bayberry Cove.

She answered truthfully, and when she’d finished, he thought a moment and then replied. “There’s a small house out on the sound about four miles from here,” he said. “Has a sign above the door that says Buttercup Cottage. I think you’d like it there.”

Louise laughed. “I would indeed, but it seems someone beat me to it. A man is already living there….”

His scraggly white eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Do you know his name?”

“Wesley Fletcher,” she said.

The beginning of a smile curled the man’s thin lips. “So, the boy’s come home,” he said. “I wondered when I caught a glimpse of him going into the Kettle.”

“He has. I tried to bargain with him—”

“Oh, you can’t bargain with Wesley. He’s as stubborn as his father.”

Louise nodded. “So I’ve experienced.”

The old man chuckled. “You’d best leave the cottage to him.” He pointed across the street. “Now, then, see that furniture store? McCorkle’s New and Used?”

Louise nodded again.

“You try that place. I know the upstairs is vacant, and I think it’s in pretty good shape. ’Course, all these buildings are showing signs of age. But I expect that one will do.”

“And who should I see about renting it?” Louise asked.

“Ask for Suzie or Evan McCorkle. They run the place. You tell them that Mason told you to inquire.” He winked at her. “You’ll get the apartment. I guarantee it. Just have Suzie draw up a simple agreement saying you’ll pay three hundred a month for the next two months. Tell her to give you a copy and that’ll be that.”

“Really? It’s that easy?”

“You run along and get your suitcase. It’ll be that easy,” he assured her.

And it almost was. Evan McCorkle, gray-haired, well-fed and a living, breathing folk-art archetype of middle-class virtues, was at first reluctant to rent to Louise. She determined from what she deciphered from snatches of his whispered debate with his wife that Evan thought Louise might play loud music or entertain guests at odd hours.

But Suzie McCorkle argued that she had a good feeling about Miss Duncan, and couldn’t she always trust her feelings? In the end, it was Suzie’s intuition and the mention of Mason’s name that clinched the deal. By the time Louise entered the Bayberry Cove Kettle to meet Wesley Fletcher for coffee, she had a signed lease in her hand. “The place is a bit dusty,” she explained to Wes, “but I can fix it up. And I bought a few pieces of furniture from the McCorkles. I’ll be very comfortable there.”

Truthfully, it would take her a good two days to even make the place livable. The furniture needed sprucing up. The cobwebs alone would fill up a trash can, and the grime on the windows all but obliterated the view of Main Street. But Louise wasn’t about to admit to Wes that any of those details were more than a passing inconvenience.

“Sounds like everything worked out for you even without Buttercup Cottage,” he said, while filling her coffee mug.

“Absolutely.” She stirred her coffee and let a smug grin convey her feeling of self-satisfaction. “And the best part is I got a great deal, and don’t have to write any rent checks to the Fletchers.”

He smiled down into his own cup before leveling a serious gaze on her face. “That’s not necessarily so, Louise. If you look at that document carefully, you’ll see that your rent payments should be made out to Mason D. Fletcher Enterprises.”

Louise darted a glance out the window at the old man in the park. “His name is Mason Fletcher?”

“’Fraid so,” Wes acknowledged. “Your landlord is my grandfather.” When he noticed the puzzled look on her face, he added, “Mason Delroy Fletcher owns these entire three blocks of Bayberry Cove, Louise. So no matter what second-story apartment you chose, you would be supporting the Fletchers.”

He took a long sip of coffee. “And we certainly do appreciate your patronage.”

CHAPTER FOUR

VICKI MALONE CAREFULLY removed a china dinner plate from the packing box. She stacked it on top of others on an old wrought-iron and glass table in the kitchen section of Louise’s apartment. “These dishes are really pretty, Lulu,” she said. “I love the cherry blossom design.”

“The best the Morgan City Wal-Mart had to offer,” Louise responded. “And within the limits of the dollar amount I set to furnish this place.”

Vicki swiped her finger through a layer of dust on the single kitchen counter. “Are you really going to sleep here tonight?”

Louise snapped plastic gloves onto her hands and dipped a cleaning rag into a solution of vinegar and water. “Absolutely. Two nights in a motel is enough for me. I’m looking forward to all the…” she paused, glanced around the room at the work that still needed to be done, and gave Vicki a rueful smile “…comforts of home. Have I mentioned how grateful I am to you two for your help?”

Jamie Malone, intent on turning an old oak bureau into a utilitarian work of art, shrugged off the comment. “Forget about it. What are friends for?”

“Besides, you’ve mentioned it about a hundred times,” Vicki said. “With the three of us working, we actually might have this place in order by this afternoon. It’s going to be lovely,” she added. “The curtains and linens and pillows you bought are adorable and will add a lot of charm to this room.”

Louise stared at her dearest friend. Vicki loved pottery and flowers and chintz, so Louise allowed her to use words like adorable and charm. Louise’s viewpoint was that a person needed towels. So what if they had a little lacy trim on the hem? So what if a plate had a cluster of cherries painted in the center? It would still hold a microwave dinner. “That’s the look I’m going for,” she said with a grin.

When she finished unpacking dishes, Vicki picked up a candle that had been sitting on the table, and examined it closely. “I didn’t know you were into these things. Did you buy this at the Bayberry Cove Candle Company?”

“Hardly, since I’ve never heard of the place. The truth is, I didn’t buy it at all. It was outside my door this morning when I got here.”

“It’s a beautiful shade of blue,” Vicki said. “Did you read the tag taped to the side?”

“Tag? No. I didn’t know there was a tag.”

“It says, ‘Look to the sky and look to sea for this tranquil shade of blue. Light it tonight and it will bring comfort to your home and you.’”

Louise walked over to the table and took the candle from Vicki. “Very touching,” she said, “if not exactly poet laureate material.”

“If you didn’t buy it,” Vicki said, “I wonder where it came from.”

Jamie turned off the power to his electric sander and set the tool on top of the bureau. “I’d guess that Suzie McCorkle left it,” he said. “She’s interested in that kind of stuff. Candles, crystals, things like that. It’s probably her way of wishing you domestic harmony.”