Page 3 of Secrets Hidden In The Glass

“Yes. On the seven o’clock ferry.”

He glanced toward the window and winced again. “Must’ve been a rough ride.”

She shook her head. “Not too bad.”

He chuckled as the trees swayed outside the glass. “The wind’s got a kick to it. Captain Bob probably fought a few twenty-, maybe thirty-knot gusts.”

She nodded again, having no idea what that meant exactly.

He grinned. “You clearly don’t get seasick.”

“No. Not so far.” She swiped her hair behind her ear and cleared her throat when she found her eyes gravitating to his strong jaw shadowed with a night’s growth of dark stubble. “So, um, the sink’s broken?”

“Nah. Well, not anymore.” He gestured to the arm and leg of a broken action figure in the bucket. “But the washing machine’s busted. Haven’t figured out why yet. I won’t be surprised if I find the rest of that guy’s remains in there somewhere.” He scrubbed his hand over his chin. “Thank God the high season’s over. I should’ve checked stuff out when the last renters left a couple weeks ago, but I didn’t get a chance.”

“Things must be pretty busy, then.”

He sent her a wry smile. “You could say that.” He looked at his watch. “Unfortunately, the washing machine’s going to have to be a mystery for another couple of days. I have to get going.”

“Okay.”

He crouched down and gathered the tools back into his toolbox. “If you need anything, my place is about thirty yards through the trees.” He gestured in the direction. “I’m in and out quite a bit, but there’s a list of numbers taped to the fridge for everything you’re bound to need. The cupboards are fully stocked with pots and pans and stuff, so go ahead and use whatever.”

“Thanks.”

“If you’re looking for good eats, you should head over to the Carter Island Deli and Bakery. My sister Molly owns it. She’s pretty much a genius in the kitchen.”

“I’ll have to check it out.”

“My other sister Gwen’s at the bank if you need anything there.”

“That’s good to know.” She moved over to read the list of numbers on the refrigerator. Carter County Sheriff’s Department nonemergency line, Mario’s Pizza Place, Carter Island Movie Theater, Jin’s Take-Out. She stared at Carter Island Realty and Rentals, then Carter Island Deli and Bakery as something clicked. “Nate Carter of the original Carters?”

“Guilty,” he said, raising his hand. “Carters have been living here for just about four hundred years.”

The idea fascinated her. The permanency and traditions centuries would create.

“The Sandersons have been here too, but they’re not as cool,” Nate continued.

She smiled. “I was reading that Governor Sanderson is originally from here?”

Nate nodded. “One of Massachusetts’s great leaders. He still lives here on occasion—has a family home over on Mansion Row. His nephew, Brad, is my best friend.” Nate grabbed his phone from the counter, turned off the music, and shoved it in his back pocket, then picked up the bucket containing action figure parts. “I should probably warn you that cell phone service is pretty hit or miss around here. Most of the time it’s a hit, but it can be a gamble.”

“That’s good to know too.”

“I’ll get out of your way.”

She walked him to the front door of his cottage—her cottage for the next few weeks.

“Sorry about the washing machine.”

“It’s fine.”

“I’ll get it fixed.”

“I just got here so I have plenty of clean clothes.” She reached forward, catching subtle hints of his aftershave and laundry soap as she twisted the doorknob for him.

“Enjoy your stay.”