"Real life's different. Aunt Olivia knew that."
J.B. nodded, as if he'd known her himself. "I'm sure she did."
"She never took anything here for granted. That's why she created the nature preserve and left most of her money for its protection and continuing work." Zoe glanced out toward the head of the harbor and her aunt's famous house, a Maine landmark. Hers now. An honor and a burden, but a problem for later. "She was born and raised in Goose Harbor and lived here her whole life, but she didn't assume that everything she loved would automatically be here for future generations."
J.B. moved on toward the café. "Did people mind when she bought up that much prime coastal acreage and set it aside as a nature preserve?"
"At first it was controversial, but you can't develop every single inch of coastline. People know that. And it turns out the preserve attracts tourists and ultimately makes money for the town."
"Even with two break-ins in two days, there was a lot more crime in Jen Periwinkle's Goose Harbor."
Zoe looked out past the mouth of the harbor at the endless blue horizon, where sky and water seemed to meet. "At least the crimes Jen had to deal with only affected fictional characters, not real people."
Eleven
Christina's Café was between crowds. The lobstermen had grabbed their coffees and muffins and gone, and the tourists hadn't arrived yet. On his first few days in Goose Harbor, J.B. wandered in with the lobstermen, then went out on his rented boat and stayed out of their way-at least his definition of out of their way. The lobstermen wanted him back in Washington.
He didn't know about his next few days in Goose Harbor.
He sat with Zoe at a small table overlooking the water. The busted lock on the door was the only evidence of last night's break-in. Christina was in a cranky mood, slamming around behind the counter and barking orders at her waitresses. She completely ignored her older sister.
Finally, she put her hands on her hips, exhaled loudly and apologized. "I didn't get enough sleep last night." She smiled over the glass-front counter at Zoe, who'd gotten up to inspect the muffin offerings. "Hey, break-fast's on me. What'll it be?"
Zoe grinned. "Since it's on you instead of your unemployed sister, I'll have blueberry pancakes with sausage and coffee."
"Orange juice?"
"Sure."
Christina leaned over the counter and called down to
J.B. "What about you, Agent McGrath?" "Same thing, except I'll pay my way. And you can call me J.B."
She held up a hand. "J.B. I can do, but you should seize the moment about me paying. I'm usually not this generous." Her crankiness had disappeared so fast and so completely, he wondered if he'd imagined it. "Give me a sec and I'll bring over two coffees."
Zoe returned to her seat, and when she gazed out at the sunrise, J.B. saw the pain in her eyes, fleeting, not meant, he thought, for him or anyone else. It couldn't be easy for her to be back here, with the onslaught of memories and unanswered questions, her uncertainty about her own future.
Christina swooped out from behind her counter and set two mugs of coffee on their table, pulling up a chair and sinking into it as if she'd been on her feet all night instead of just a couple of hours. "Kyle didn't want to come back here last night," she said. "He insists he wasn't spooked, but we ended up having a couple of drinks and talking for hours about his documentary. He's really into it. Obsessed, I'd say."
Zoe poured milk into her coffee from a pottery pitcher painted with a sprig of wild blueberries. "I hope it works out for him."
Christina sighed, and J.B. could tell some unspoken sisterly communication had just occurred between them. "Come on, Zoe, it can't hurt to talk to him," Christina said.
"It doesn't matter, I'm not going to." Zoe seemed to be struggling to keep her tone neutral. "Don't take it as anything against him, Chris. I just don't want to do it."
"Fine. I won't pressure you."
Zoe ignored her sister's irritable tone and smiled at her instead. "Thanks."
Christina slid to her feet. She had on her informal uniform of blue apron, white ruffled shirt and black pants. Her hair was up, her eyes a darker blue-gray this morning, sunken from lack of sleep. She looked exhausted and troubled. And annoyed, but trying to pretend she wasn't. "I'll get your breakfast," she said, probably wishing she hadn't insisted on paying.
She swung behind the counter, and a waitress, who obviously knew Zoe, rolled her eyes behind the boss's back, as if to say to steer clear. Must have already been a long morning with the younger Ms. West, J.B. thought.
He pushed back his chair to give himself more room to stretch out his legs. "She thinks Kyle is handsome and brilliant."
Zoe shrugged. "Maybe he is. I don't care." There was no harshness in her tone, just determination. "He can do his documentary without my help."
"What does he want from you?"
"I have no idea. We've never gotten that far."
The waitress, not Christina, brought out their pancakes, thin and buttery, dotted with blue-and-deep-pur-ple wild blueberries. J.B. dribbled just a little real maple syrup on his-he was buzzed enough from coffee and too much late-night thinking without overdoing on sugar. Zoe had no such compunctions. Her pancakes were swimming in syrup. She even dunked her sausage.
"What're you doing today?" he asked.
"I wouldn't mind going kayaking, but I'll have to see what the conditions are like. It's been awhile-I don't want to roll. Too cold." She stabbed more pancakes, and he could see they were an indulgence for her, something she mustn't have had in Connecticut. "I haven't known what to do with myself for two months. I'm sort of used to it."
"Not a bad life if you can afford it."
"I can't," she said. "Not forever, anyway."
"Sorry you got yourself fired?"
She shook her head. "Not really. I had it coming. I don't regret the Texas Ranger, but I should have carried my weapon."
"Where was it?"
"Locked in my car."
"Then it wasn't an oversight," he said. "It was deliberate. You knew what you were doing."
"Yes. I did."
She swept a triangle of pancakes through her river of syrup, and J.B. knew the subject of her and guns was closed. "How did people around here react when you quit the state police to go into the bureau?" he asked.
"Fine."
She was into these short answers. J.B. knew he was moving onto shaky ground. "They thought you could cut it at the academy?"
She raised her eyes. "Of course."
He sipped more of his coffee. "People liked the idea of you leaving Maine?"
"No."
"You're only answering the question asked, Zoe."
She set down her fork. "My father wasn't killed because I was on my way to Quantico."
"Did he like you following in his footsteps into law enforcement, going beyond what he did?"
"I don't think of it that way. I was on my own path. I didn't think of myself as going ‘beyond' him because I was on my way to becoming an FBI agent and he was a small-town police chief."
J.B. nodded. "I know. It's not how I think, either." She managed a self-deprecating smile. "I fell for your interrogation tactics, didn't I?" "We're just having a conversation-" "Right." She didn't bother to hide her skepticism.
J.B. smiled back at her, setting down his mug. "Your father wanted you to stay in Goose Harbor and run a bed-and-breakfast, didn't he?"
She ignored him. "I could look into this Teddy Shelton character. Talk to a few people, see what they know about him. How much trouble can he be if you spotted him just like that?" She paused, giving him a long look. "Or are you that good, Special Agent McGrath?"
He laughed. "I'm that good."
"Excellent. I wouldn't want to hang out with a lousy FBI agent. What're you planning for the day?"
"Don't know yet."
"Meaning you're waiting to see what I do. Well, I am not going to be responsible for you not having a proper vacation. Go on and enjoy yourself. Don't fret about me."