House on the Beach Read online

  Dear Friends,

  Welcome to Pilgrim Cove, Massachusetts!

  On the surface, Pilgrim Cove is much the same as any little seaside town. Picturesque and peaceful with long stretches of unspoiled beach, fresh ocean breezes and sense of time passing slowly. But things aren’t always as they seem. And the people of Pilgrim Cove—including a colorful group of characters known as the ROMEOS—have stories to tell.

  Matthew Parker, his two young sons and his dad have shared a home since both men became widowed several years before the story opens. And now they’re convinced no women are needed in the Parker domain. But when Matt meets Laura McCloud, who has healing of her own to do, he discovers that his life is missing something vital—a woman’s love.

  THE PILGRIM COVE series evolved when I combined personal experience—like me, Laura McCloud has a bright future despite a battle with breast cancer—with my love of New England.

  So laugh, cry and enjoy yourself as you become part of this coastal community. Watch as Laura and Matt discover that love can be as powerful as the ocean outside their door. Happy reading!

  Linda Barrett

  P.S. I love hearing from my readers! Send a letter: [email protected] or P.O. Box 841934, Houston, TX 77284-1934. Check out my Web site at www.linda-barrett.com.

  CAST OF CHARACTERS

  Laura McCloud: Boston career woman; leases Sea View House Matt Parker: Single dad, owns Parker Plumbing & Hardware Bart Quinn: Realtor for Sea View House

  Father of Maggie Sullivan and Thea Cavelli

  Grandfather of Lila Quinn Sullivan

  Great-grandfather of Katie Sullivan Brian Parker: Matt’s eleven-year-old son

  Casey Parker: Matt’s seven-year-old son

  Maggie Quinn Sullivan: Bart’s daughter, Lila’s mother

  Partner in The Lobster Pot

  Married to Tom Sullivan Thea Quinn Cavelli: Bart’s daughter

  Partner in The Lobster Pot

  Married to Charlie Cavelli Lila Sullivan: Bart’s granddaughter and partner Dee Barnes: Manager of Diner on the Dunes THE ROMEOS:

  Bart Quinn: Unofficial leader of the ROMEOS

  Sam Parker: Matt’s dad, works part-time with Matt Joe Cavelli: Thea’s father-in-law

  Rick “Chief” O’Brien: Retired police chief Lou Goodman: Retired high school librarian Max “Doc” Rosen: Retired physician

  Ralph Bigelow: Retired electrician

  Mike Lyons: Retired engineer

  The House on the Beach

  Linda Barrett

  To my husband, Michael, who received the dreaded phone

  call and had to convey the bad news. Then he said, “I’m

  here for you, sweetheart.” And he was. And still is.

  “I love you, Mike.”

  With deep gratitude to…

  —Dr. Eric Bernicker, Dr. Joseph Dossi, Grathan Walls,

  Janan Destaphano and Cathy McClellan, R.N.’s.

  You grace the profession with your humanity.

  —my family and friends, most of whom live far from

  Houston…for their unstinting love, support, advice

  and a zillion phone calls! And just as many prayers.

  —my GED students, whose very existence kept my mind

  occupied during this hard time—and to the staff at SEARCH

  for many tasty lunches and great conversation.

  Together, you helped me become a steel magnolia

  when I needed to be one,

  and I thank you from the bottom of my heart

  Books by Linda Barrett

  HARLEQUIN SUPERROMANCE

  971—LOVE, MONEY AND AMANDA SHAW

  1001—TRUE-BLUE TEXAN

  1073—THE APPLE ORCHARD

  1115—THE INN AT OAK CREEK

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  EPILOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  “I’M SORRY, Ali, but I’m not ready to make such a big decision.” Laura McCloud sat at the kitchen table across from her sister the morning after their mother’s funeral, sipping coffee and nibbling a piece of dry toast. Her Boston home had overflowed with visitors the evening before, but she and Ali were alone now. The house was almost back in order. Leftovers filled the refrigerator shelves—not that she had much of an appetite.

  “But you know how much we’d love for you to join us in Atlanta,” continued Alison. “Charles especially wants you to know that the invitation comes from him, too. And the kids would adore having their Aunt Laura close by.”

  “I do know it, and I love you all for it, but—”

  “And we have fabulous medical centers, too,” interrupted Alison. “As good as here. Not that you have anything to worry about anymore,” she added quickly.

  Right. Nothing except the knowledge that there were no guarantees. “I’m not concerned about finding medical care. It’s just that I have another idea.”

  “You do? What?”

  “Remember Pilgrim Cove? Remember the beautiful beach?” Laura watched her sister’s eyes widen and a grin light up her face.

  “Do I remember? Of course I remember. What great summers we had. So, what’s your idea? A summer vacation at the beach?”

  “Not exactly,” replied Laura. “I’m not going to wait that long.”

  “You’re going to the beach in the middle of winter?” Alison asked in disbelief as she hugged herself. “Brr. Not me.”

  Laura laughed at her sister’s antics. They’d always gotten along well, and Laura had really missed Alison when she’d left Boston. Suddenly Laura had to blink back tears. Alison was now her only family.

  “I’ll think about what you said regarding Atlanta, but I’ve got a career here and…I need some time. Time for myself.”

  Alison’s hand reached for hers. “I’ll support any decision you make, sis, but are you sure you really want to be alone?”

  “With the sand and the ocean and my work…don’t worry, Ali. I’ll be very busy.”

  “Yeah, yeah. The sand will blow in your eyes, the ocean will crash against the seawall and the ferry won’t run. So much for winter at the beach!”

  Laura smiled. “I’ll wait until next month. March should be somewhat better. I wonder what Pilgrim Cove is like during the off-season. At least the rent should be cheaper.”

  “Wait a minute. Why are you concerned about rent? A few dollars one way or another for a week’s vacation shouldn’t make a difference.”

  “I’m thinking about more than a week,” Laura said in a slow, deliberate tone. “I’m thinking about a three-month lease, maybe through Memorial Day. A small house might not be too expensive, not too hard to keep up, but I’d want it right on the beach.”

  She stood as the image crystallized in her mind. “I need a change, a complete change of scene. And I need it now. Fighting with the weather will be much easier than fighting for Mom’s life and my own.”

  She reached up and tousled her short blond curls. “Look at me, Alison. Look at these ringlets. I’m delighted to have hair again, but I don’t recognize myself when I pass a mirror. Where’s the sleek blunt cut that was so easy to manage?”

  “You’re adorable in those curls! In fact, you look wonderful, Laura, just wonderful.” Laura could hear the passion in her sister’s voice.

  “Donald didn’t think so,” she responded.

  “Donald Crawford was a jerk!”<
br />
  Laura shook her head. “No, Alison. Don wasn’t a jerk. He was just human. He had a girlfriend with a huge responsibility to an ill mother—and he handled that—but my getting sick was just too much. He wasn’t prepared for all the emotional turmoil. Who can blame him?”

  “I can,” replied Alison.

  “Be fair,” said Laura. “We weren’t engaged. He didn’t owe me anything.”

  “He wasn’t worthy of you!” Alison insisted. “You’re the most outstanding person, the most beautiful, wonderful woman…”

  “You’re hardly objective.” Laura laughed. “But can you really blame Don for wanting a normal life? What man wouldn’t have second thoughts when he heard the words ‘breast cancer’?”

  “A man who loves you,” came the quick reply.

  “Well, I’m not going to count on that happening,” said Laura in an even tone. “So I’ll have lots of time and energy to rebuild my interrupted career.” She leaned across the table. “I’m thirty-three. It’s now or never. And you heard my agent last night. ‘Work is therapy, Laura,”’ she mimicked Norman Cohen’s low voice. She relaxed in her chair. “Norman is a dear friend as well as a businessman. And he’s got some radio ads lined up for me.”

  Alison would have protested again, but Laura held up her hand. “I’m not discussing men anymore, Ali. I’m not sure there’s a man in the world who could look past this. Anyway, it’s too soon. All I can do is take one day at a time. Capisce?”

  “Sure,” Alison replied. “I understand, but I don’t have to like it. I love you and I want you to have…”

  “I know,” Laura said in a hoarse voice. “You want me to have everything you have…loving husband, healthy children…but that’s probably not going to happen for me. What is going to happen, however, is a nice long stay in Pilgrim Cove.”

  Alison remained quiet for a long moment. “I recognize that expression and that tone,” she finally said. “You’ve made up your mind. But my invitation remains open—will always remain open.”

  Laura looked at her sister’s face, at the sincerity clearly written there. “Thanks, Ali, thanks a lot. But I’ve got to figure it out my own way.”

  She reached for the phone. “I’m calling Bartholomew Quinn, the man who arranged the summer rentals when we were kids. I remember going with Daddy to Mr. Quinn’s real estate office. And I remember him. A head of thick white hair.”

  “White? And that was how many years ago? Close to twenty? He might be dead by now!”

  “Hope not.” She picked up the receiver and dialed directory assistance.

  BARTHOLOMEW QUINN STOOD at the large front window of his Main Street office in Pilgrim Cove. His hand cupped the bowl of the empty pipe in his mouth, a comfortable habit he hadn’t bothered to break even though he’d given up the pleasure of filling the beauty with fine tobacco.

  Promises. He’d made promises. A promise to his daughters and to his beloved granddaughter and to her precious daughter. Four generations of Quinns, three of whom had said, “No more smoking, Dad, Granddad, Papa Bart!” He shook his head remembering how they’d ganged up on him. Foolish girls to worry so much. He was as strong as ever and as sharp as ever, and maybe just as hardheaded, too. He sighed. Except these days he chomped an empty pipe.

  His eyes focused on the late-model blue Honda Accord pulling into a visitor’s spot in front of his building, then he glanced at his watch. If this was Laura McCloud, she was right on time. He’d been astonished to hear from her last week. Astonished that she remembered him. But then again, he grinned to himself, he was a pretty memorable guy. Just ask his kids. Or anyone in Pilgrim Cove. Everyone knew Bartholomew Quinn!

  The car door opened and a woman emerged, golden hair tossing in the wind. Bart tsked. She should have worn a hat. Wasn’t she aware that February was the worst of the winter months in New England? He straightened his silk bow tie and adjusted the comfortable woolen cardigan he wore. Bart Quinn knew how to adapt to weather and to life. After seventy-five years on the planet, he’d had plenty of practice.

  He watched the young woman check the sign— Quinn Real Estate and Property Management—and walk to the front door. He went to greet her.

  “Well, as I live and breathe,” he said, shaking Laura’s hand. “The young McCloud girl. All grown up.”

  She had a delightful laugh, but it didn’t quite hide the sadness in her dark blue eyes. Strain showed in the too-thin face.

  “Come in and have a hot cup of Earl Grey.” He ushered her to a small round table. After calling to an assistant for the tea, he took a seat opposite Laura.

  “You’ve had a hard time of it, haven’t you?” Bart began. “A fine woman was Bridget McCloud, and your dad, too. I remember Connor well. Two good people, and now their daughter’s come to see me.” He sat back in his chair and waited.

  Laura nodded. “Yes, I’ve come to you, Mr. Quinn, with a request.” She moved her chair a fraction closer. “My question is, can you help me find a house to rent immediately? A house right on the beach. I want to be able to open my eyes and see the ocean.”

  Her voice had the clarity of a bell. A musical quality, Bart thought. She was so lovely despite her distress. He cocked his head as he listened.

  “You see,” Laura continued, “I need to get away for awhile. I need to be here, near the water. Can’t wait for summer. I need to…to…”

  “Lick your wounds? Heal a little?” suggested Bart.

  Her eyes widened. “That’s part of it. Mom’s illness…she was in remission for so long and then three years ago, the nightmare began again! Her nerve cells deteriorated. In the end, she couldn’t walk, couldn’t talk… I need some time to recover and to adjust.” She paused in thought. “Long walks on the beach, fresh air, time to read and to cook simple meals. And with some basic recording equipment, I can work here as well as in Boston.”

  “And what exactly does Laura McCloud do to earn her keep?”

  A dimple appeared as she shot him a small grin. “Laura McCloud earns her keep on the radio and telly with her commercial announcements.”

  Her language and Irish lilt matched his, and he roared with laughter. “Oh, you’ve got it down, girl.” Bart was pure American, but his parents had emigrated from County Cork at the turn of the last century and a bit of their flavorful speech had taken hold in him.

  She nodded. “I’ve always been good at languages. I seem to have the ear and the voice. In college, I majored in Speech and Theater and found work in narration and voice-overs. But—” she turned away from him then and stared through the window “—my career has fallen apart in the last few years. I’ve been…distracted. And now I’ve got to rebuild.”

  Her eyes glowed as she turned to him again, and Bart saw the strength behind them. This girl would make it somehow, with or without his help. But he wanted very much to help her. He thought about a property he managed—a unique beachfront property—with a sliding scale rental fee for people in difficult circumstances. His gut told him Laura qualified, and his gut was rarely wrong. He nodded his head. “Sea View House.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You’ll be wanting Sea View House.” Bart stood up, selected a key from among many on his key ring and walked to his big old-fashioned rolltop desk. He opened a small drawer and withdrew a set of duplicate keys. He reached for some papers. As he relocked the drawer, he picked up the phone and pressed the intercom. “Lila, come in and meet a special friend of mine.” He winked at Laura, then opened his office door just as Lila rushed through.

  Bart chuckled. Lila never walked.

  “Laura McCloud,” he said, “I’d like you to meet my partner, Lila Quinn Sullivan, who also happens to be my granddaughter.”

  BART’S GRANDDAUGHTER WAS lovely, Laura thought as she extended her hand. Twenty-something. Bright blue eyes, with an intelligence behind them.

  “I’m looking for a place to rent,” Laura said. “Your grandfather suggested Sea View House.”

  A wistful expression came over th
e young girl’s face as she turned to Bart. “Sea View House?”

  “Yes,” he confirmed. “Laura’s a special guest. And Sea View’s a special house. He looked at Laura. “You spent about ten consecutive summers here, didn’t you?”

  She nodded. “What’s so special about this particular house?” She needed a quiet place, nothing out of the ordinary.

  Lila stared over Laura’s shoulder, her eyes unfocused. “Sea View House has this reputation,” she began. “Good things happen to everyone who stays there…” She paused, then shook her head. “Well, no, I guess not everyone…but I’m sure you’ll be happy there. Welcome back to Pilgrim Cove.”

  And she was gone.

  “Moves at the speed of light, my Lila does,” said Bart as he led Laura to his car. “She’s the joy of my life, she and her little Katie. But…well, there’s a sorrow on her heart, too.” He sighed. “Everybody has troubles, but I can’t think of a better place to be than Sea View House while you figure them out.”

  Laura murmured noncommittally. She scanned the town as they drove, excitement mounting as she recognized some of the businesses. From Bart’s office on Main Street, they passed a bank, then a barber shop called The Cove Clippers. She’d gone there with her dad each year for his “summer cut.” And there was The Diner on the Dunes! Happy times and delicious meals with her family.

  “There’s Parker Plumbing and Hardware,” Bart pointed out. “They carry everything. I’ll call Matt to turn your water on. My friend, Sam Parker, started the business but now his son, Matthew, runs it. Good family. Not without their share of heartaches, too. But they carry on.”

  Laura sighed. If Bart thought he was giving her a lesson in life, he was wasting his time. She was already an expert. She didn’t interrupt him, but instead continued to look at the town, trying to recognize landmarks from her childhood.

  “Is Neptune’s Park still here?” she asked.

  Bart grinned around his pipe. “Sure it is. Can’t imagine Pilgrim Cove without it, but it’s only open in the summertime, mind you.”