That Summer at the Shore. Callie Endicott

clouded the kindly woman’s features. “What a shame. Your grandfather prized a good gab. Gabe would come to get the berries for me, and they’d sit for hours talking baseball. Speaking of which, I should go and get that jam started.”

      Waving cheerily, Mrs. Kruger drove away and Jamie walked to the trailer. Brad was eating strawberries and his brow was less tense.

      “We can go now, unless you’d rather hang out here,” Jamie told him.

      “You don’t lock up?”

      “There’s no point. It’s easy to break in and then I’d have to repair the latch.”

      Brad asked to be dropped at the resort entrance, saying it was only a short distance to his brother’s apartment. Jamie didn’t push; the man had the right to decide things for himself.

      Later as she snuggled onto her smooth cotton pillowcase with Marlin purring against her on the bed, Jamie’s mind wandered through the day’s events. It was annoying that she kept thinking about Zack Denning. She’d appreciate it if he would stay on his property and leave her alone, but it was a reasonable bet that she’d have another encounter with his lordship in the near future.

      The man hadn’t given up. He was probably in a tactical retreat while he devised a new plot to get Granddad’s land.

      CHAPTER FOUR

      JAMIE YAWNED AND glanced at the lit display on the clock. 4:00 a.m. She relaxed, grateful she didn’t have to get up and rush out to the fruit stand.

      Gordon Chen had originally wanted his produce picked up in a single load, but since the resort restaurants needed strawberries for their breakfast menu, it had required her getting up at an ungodly hour to coordinate everything. She’d finally told Gordon it made too long a day for her. He’d offered a compromise; he would take direct delivery of the berries from a grower she trusted, and send two of his guys midmorning for the rest. The new arrangement was beginning today.

      “Mrrroow?”

      In the faint light she saw Marlin stretch and yawn a few inches from her face. If he wasn’t such a lazy old guy, it might be scary to see those gleaming teeth so close to her jugular.

      “I know you miss Granddad,” she murmured. He let out a feline sigh as if he’d understood. She doubted her grandfather had allowed Marlin to get on the bed, but she didn’t have the heart to banish him. He slept each night lying against her, snoring, his huge head on her shoulder.

      Marlin was a typical cat—he knew a sucker when he saw one. I’m lonely, he’d practically screamed when he’d launched himself at her the day she’d arrived in Warrington, yowling for all he was worth. The man watching the house had taken care of his basic needs, but there was no substitute for affectionate company.

      Petting him absently, Jamie thought about a design for a piece of cat jewelry, but wasn’t sure it would work.

      Mr. Peterson had called to tell her that four of her pendants had sold that weekend and that he’d be glad to take more. It was a victory. Mr. Peterson owned the finest art studio in town and had been reluctant to carry jewelry. If she hadn’t been George Jenkins’s granddaughter, he probably wouldn’t have agreed; apparently, her persistence was paying off for both of them. She’d have to go through her stock to see what might work for him. And now that she’d have more free hours, perhaps she could concentrate on the higher-end market, which gave a better rate of return than regular tourist shops.

      She drowsed another hour, then pulled away from a protesting Marlin, who settled into the pile of blankets with a sulky expression.

      “Sorry, pal. I’ve got a business to run.”

      He closed his eyes and twitched the tip of his tail.

      Dressing quickly, Jamie took care of some household chores and dashed to the fruit stand. Deliveries were now scheduled for eight-thirty.

      By ten o’clock, the Mar Vista restaurant staff had picked up their order and she was ready for business. The sun was shining and seemed to promise a clear day, although it could change in nothing flat. That was one of the interesting parts of living on the coast.

      During a lull she discovered a cell phone under the edge of the trailer while tidying the area, the second since opening the stand. A customer had already claimed the first, and another had come by, saying his was missing and wondering if he’d dropped it there. Pleased, she phoned the number the man had left.

      “Mine showed up,” he said. “Darnedest thing, it slid between the driver’s seat and the emergency brake and was nearly invisible. My ten-year-old unearthed it while scrounging for loose change.”

      “I’m glad you found it.”

      “Me, too. I’ve lost three and didn’t want my wife to know there could be a fourth.”

      Jamie got off and checked the cell she’d found, hoping to retrieve its phone number, but the battery was dead.

      Drat.

      Then she remembered Zack Denning hunting through his pockets before using his vehicle radio.

      Jamie gazed at the phone speculatively. It wasn’t a gadget-packed iPhone, but a genius entrepreneur might be too busy for bells and whistles. She hoped the phone was Zack’s; he’d hate owing her a favor, however minor.

      After dealing with several customers, she dialed Mar Vista’s office.

      A woman answered. “Denning Enterprises. Trudy Lopez speaking.”

      “Hello, this is Jamie Conroe.”

      “Oh, hello, Ms. Conroe. How may I help you?” The woman’s voice became rigidly correct.

      “I found a cell phone at my produce stand and wondered if it could be Mr. Denning’s. He seemed to have lost something when he was here.” She almost mentioned it was when he’d tried to have her arrested for trespassing on her own property, but thought she should save her gibes for the man who deserved them.

      “May I put you on hold while I ask him?”

      “That’s fine.”

      “I apologize for the delay, Ms. Conroe,” Trudy said when she came back. “Mr. Denning did lose his phone and he’ll be right there to see if it belongs to him.”

      “That’s not necessary,” Jamie replied hastily. “I’ll send it with Gordon’s guys tomorrow. They can return it the next day if it isn’t his.”

      “It will be faster if he comes.”

      Jamie tensed. “I know he’s got another cell phone to use in the meantime—he contacted his lawyer at my house after he was out here.”

      “Yes, he does have a spare, but—”

      “So there’s no reason for him to come,” Jamie interrupted.

      “Nevertheless, he should be there in a few minutes. Thank you for calling.”

      The woman on the other end disconnected without letting Jamie protest again, and she stuck her tongue out, annoyed. The tables had gotten turned and it was her own fault—Denning must have wanted an excuse to come over, and she’d provided one. Owners of fancy resorts didn’t rush to a fruit stand because of a cell phone; they sent flunkies to do it.

      On the other hand, knowing he had ulterior motives could level the balance of power.

      She washed two baskets of strawberries and sat down to wait.

      * * *

      ZACK HAD BEEN deep in financial reports and purchase orders when Trudy came in and said that Jamie Conroe may have found his cell phone. The timing was amazing. He’d spent most of the morning mulling over how to approach Jamie. Somehow he had to get her onto the resort and make her understand what he was trying to do. He didn’t know what was keeping her in that particular spot, but getting her to move that hideous trailer