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Chapter 11

"You're looking at a few thousand, at the very least."

Alissa winced. She and Dane were with the plumber that they'd hired. The three of them were standing in the basement, and he was giving them a verdict based on all of the information he'd come up with through a thorough inspection.

"And I know what you're thinking," the plumber said, smiling sympathetically. He was a middle-aged man with a handlebar mustache and kind, twinkling eyes. "That's not the estimate you were hoping for. But the good news is, you don't have to make a decision right this second. These water pipe issues aren't going to go away, but they're not about to all of a sudden flood the entire house, either."

Dane grimaced at the very thought. "Well, thank you for your time and your work. If you want to come upstairs with me, I'll write you a check for the inspection."

He shook his head. "Inspections I do for free. I don't charge a doctor's prices unless I've done surgery on the patient, if you know what I mean."

"Well, thank you, that's very nice. Can I interest you in some coffee and cookies?" Alissa said as the three of them started up the stairs.

"I'm afraid I can't stay for coffee, since I have another appointment. But I'd take a cookie, gladly. Thank you." He smiled amiably, and she felt a flicker of affection for him.

At least we have such a nice person helping us with our problem, she thought, trying to look on the bright side. But thousands of dollars. That's so discouraging. Why does starting out our home life have to be so difficult?

Upstairs in the kitchen, Alissa brought out a plate of cookies and the plumber took one gratefully.

"I can get you coffee in a to-go cup, if you want," she offered.

He nodded, his mouth full of cookie. "Thank you," he said, once he'd swallowed. "I'd appreciate that very much, and this cookie is out of this world."

She smiled and started to rummage in the cupboard for the disposable to-go cups.

"We'll try to get you an answer soon, Bill," Dane said. "We know we need to make a call on that sooner rather than later. But we should talk it over together first, give it some thought—"

"Oh, for sure, for sure." Bill smiled amiably, seeming to be perfectly happy with his cookie. "You folks just let me know. I'm pretty busy this time of year, but if I'm not able to do the job myself when you decide you want it done, I can refer you to other plumbers that I know and trust."

Thanking Bill again, they sent him on his way bearing a to-go cup of excellent coffee and another cookie.

"He's nice," she said in the doorway as they watched his blue plumber's van drive away down the hill. She bit her lip, trying to stay optimistic, but feeling overwhelmed. Dane wrapped an arm around her, seeming to sense her emotions.

"It'll be okay," he assured her, although she could see that his neck was stiff, which always happened when he was stressed.

"You're right," she said, sighing and leaning into his embrace.

For a moment they stood there quietly together, but then she stirred, feeling restless.

"I'm going to go finish deep-cleaning the upstairs bathroom's closet," she told him. "Cleaning always makes me feel better."

He laughed. "Okay. I'll be downstairs getting some work done."

He squeezed her shoulders as they parted, and she made her way upstairs to the bathroom. It was one of her favorite rooms in the house. It had a cozy bathtub, mottled windows bordered with stained glass, and a floor made of charming white and blue floral tiles. They'd already cleaned the house, but there were some places—such as the closet in that bathroom—that they still hadn't gotten to thoroughly.

She knelt down and started to scrub the floor of the closet. It was tile, just like the main part of the bathroom floor.

This tile really is pretty, she thought, smiling at the sight of it. It looks like some little French cottage or something. I love it—

"Oh!"

Her hands jerked back as all of a sudden she felt something shift, and one of the tiles went clattering across the floor of the closet. Gingerly, she felt the tiles around the new empty space, and found that none of them were tacked down, and that underneath them was a dirty cement floor that had weird-looking orange stains all across it.

"Ugh!" she cried, feeling a burst of frustration. "Is this house just full of bad surprises?"

"What's the matter?" Dane called. He appeared in the doorway of the bathroom a few moments later. "Is something—oh." He stared down at the tiles that she'd piled up inside the closet.

She gestured to them, sighing. "None of these are actually installed," she said. "They're just set on the ground next to each other."

He raised his eyebrows, probably deciding against saying something uncharitable against the previous owners. "Well, that's not so bad, sweetheart. We can fix that, it shouldn't be too hard to do ourselves."

"I know, but—" She tossed down the cleaning brush she'd been scrubbing the floor with. "It just feels like one thing after another, doesn't it? Now this? I'm starting to seriously wonder if we made a mistake by buying this house."

"Oh, don't say that." He crouched down on the floor next to her and wrapped his arms around her. "This is still a great house."

"I mean, it's beautiful. It's really beautiful. It looked like exactly what we want, but it's got so many more issues than we expected! The inspection didn't reveal any of this stuff. I'm just worried there's a lot more."

"Hey." He reached for her face and brushed her hair back behind her ear. "It's all going to be okay. It's frustrating, I know, but it's nothing we can't handle."

"You're right." She nodded and leaned her head down on his shoulder. He sat down all the way and they sat there cuddling together. "I just—it's hard not to react to this, you know."

"I understand. Just think about something else for a while. Hopefully that will help make it feel like less of a big deal later on."

"Mm." She closed her eyes, noting that he smelled a little bit like coffee.

"What about the festival? Think about that. There's probably still some stuff you need to do for that."

"Yes." She smiled at him. "You're a smart guy. That's the perfect thing to distract me."

"I know you're excited about it." He kissed her nose.

"I am! You should be too. It's going to be a great time."

"I am excited. Because you'll be there with me." He stood up and helped her to her feet. "Let's go get some work done together, and then we can go into town for dinner. The Crab? How does that sound?"

"Perfect." She smiled. "Come on, you can help me decide what story of Blueberry Bay's history to write about next."

She took his hand, and they started down the hallway together.

* * *

"Oh, hey, Alissa and Dane! You guys just ate here?"

Hannah grinned at her friends, who were just stepping out of The Crab. Hannah was there to talk to her father while he closed up the restaurant for the night. It was nearly nine p.m., and she was surprised to see her friends there so late.

"We did," Alissa said, giving her a hug. "We've been dealing with more house problems and decided to treat ourselves as a pick-me-up."

"Oh no! I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's not too bad," Dane assured her. "But after getting an estimate from a plumber, and then finding some loose tiles in the upstairs bathroom, we're feeling a little overwhelmed."

"Well, I hope everything works out okay!" Hannah said. "If you guys need help with stuff, you let us know, okay?"

"Thanks, that's sweet of you," Alissa said. "But we should be good. It's just frustrating, you know?"

"I totally understand. Well, I'll let you guys go! I'm here to talk to my dad."

"Oh?" Alissa's eyes twinkled. "About anything in particular?"

Hannah wondered if Alissa was thinking about the newspaper article on Willis and Marsha Dunlap that they'd looked at together. The truth was that she had the printed copy she'd made tucked into her pocket, and that was exactly what she was coming to talk to her father about. But she didn't feel as though her father would want her to share that with other people—she had no idea what he was about to say in response to her questions.

"Oh, just stuff," she said vaguely, smiling. "I want to spend as much time with him as I can while I'm in town, you know?"

"Of course." Alissa smiled at her friend. "Have fun!"

"Have a good night, you two!" Hannah waved goodbye to the couple and then stepped inside the restaurant.

The Crab was empty of customers by that time. A few waiters and waitresses were busily cleaning up the last few tables, and they smiled and waved at Hannah as she entered.

"Your dad's in the kitchen!" one of the waitresses—a smiling girl with brown hair and braces—called to Hannah.

Hannah laughed, enjoying the fact that the waitress immediately knew why she was there. "Thanks, Katie!" she called back.

She pushed open the doors to the kitchen and was met with the savory aroma of seafood. Even though all of the cooking had been finished for the night, the scents of all the delicious dinners that had been cooked that night still lingered in the air.

Willis was wiping off the stainless-steel counter next to the stove. He turned when he heard the door open, and his face lit up into a grin when he saw his daughter.

"Hey, sweetheart! What's the occasion?"

She hurried across the kitchen and kissed him on the cheek. "I wanted to see you. How was your shift tonight?"

"Oh, fine. Nothing started on fire. That's always good."

She laughed, and despite his gruff words, her father's eyes were twinkling. "Can I help you clean up?" she asked him.

He shook his head. "Thanks, but we should be good. The kids will put the dishes into the dishwasher, and it'll get unloaded in the morning when everything's clean and dry. I'm just about done cleaning up in here."

"Okay." She leaned against the counter, smiling at him and watching as he scrubbed the counter until it shone, moving with the precise speed of a man who had been doing the same thing every day for years. Now that the moment had come to do it, she felt a little hesitant to bring up the article. She was still squirming with curiosity, but she knew she was about to rattle her father's world a little bit. She didn't know how he would feel about what she was about to ask him.

"You want to talk about something in particular?" he asked, glancing at her.

I must look like I'm here for something important,she thought. I guess I am standing here staring at him with my hands clasped.

She smiled and pulled the printed article out of her pocket. "I was looking at some old Blueberry Bay articles with Alissa. We came across this picture, and I wanted to ask you about it." She handed it to him, and he dropped the rag and reached for it curiously. "First of all, congrats on winning the costume contest." She laughed, watching her father's face. He looked slightly stunned. Her next words spilled out of her all in a rush. "I never heard you mention Marsha before. The article said that you two were dating. Is that true?"

He swallowed. His eyes were locked onto the photograph, and Hannah watched his expression carefully.

"Yes, we were dating at the time." His voice was gruff, and he handed the paper back to his daughter in the next moment. He went back to his cleaning even though the counter appeared to be perfectly clean, and she watched him swallow.

He seems kind of shocked,she thought.

Out loud, she said, "I didn't mean to upset you or anything, Dad, I'm just curious about this. She looks really nice."

He shook his head and smiled at her. "You're not upsetting me, sweetheart. I'm just—well, I can't believe you found that. To be honest, I'd forgotten all about the article, although I do remember—well, I remember winning the contest. It does feel a little odd for… the past to suddenly reappear like that."

She nodded, glancing down at the photograph of her father as a young man, and his grinning face. And at Marsha, who looked exquisitely happy.

"Why didn't you ever tell me about her, Dad?" she asked.

He shrugged, still scrubbing hard. "I just didn't, I guess."

She made a face at him, but he wasn't looking at her so he didn't see it. "I want to know more about all this, if that's okay with you. I mean, that's so cool! You won the costume contest at the Summer Smash."

He nodded, turning to her with a forced smile, but he didn't say anything.

"I'm curious about this woman," she told him. "Marsha Dunlap. You were dating her, and then obviously you stopped dating her because then you married Mom." Her heart tightened a little. She almost never mentioned her mother, and her father didn't either. "What happened between you two?"

He set down the rag and let out a long sigh. He leaned against the counter and reached an arm out for his daughter. She scampered up to him and nestled under his arm.

Oh good, story time,she thought. I'm excited to hear about this. I want to know what Marsha Dunlap was like, and why things ended between them. She looks like a really nice person.

"When I was about your age, I started dating a girl named Marsha Dunlap." His voice was gruff, and he stared into space as he began his story.

"So far, I know all that." She laughed. "Give me the details, Dad."

He shrugged. "I wanted to marry her. She was—well, I was very fond of her." His voice was steady, but she noticed him blinking a little more rapidly than usual.

"What happened?" she whispered.

"Her mother decided that I wasn't to be trusted. It was so unfair—Marsha's father was a philanderer, and because for some reason I reminded Marsha's mother of him, she kept telling her daughter I wouldn't treat her well."

"That's ridiculous!" she spluttered, indignant.

"Yes, it was." His tone was grim, but he gave his daughter a squeeze as he said it. "But it all worked out okay in the end. I have you, don't I?"

She hugged him back, her heart warmed by his words. "I love you, Dad."

"I love you too." He smiled fondly at his daughter, and then his eyes got a faraway look again. he sighed. "Anyway, it wasn't just that. Her mother was leaving Blueberry Bay, and she convinced Marsha to go with her so that she could get a good education somewhere. Marsha's mother was the domineering type, that's for sure. And Marsha was an absolute sweetheart. Too tenderhearted for her own good."

Her jaw dropped as she listened to her father talk about what had happened all those years before. She heard something in his tone of voice that she hadn't heard in a long time.

I think he really loved her, she thought. Like, a lot. I wonder if he ever thinks about her? Does he wonder what happened to her? Would he ever want to see her again?

"So, that's the story." He shrugged. "It all happened a long time ago. There's no use crying over spilled milk and there's really no use in crying over really old, spilled milk."

She wrinkled her nose over his analogy. "But—it's okay to be sad about it, you know? Gosh, it sounds like you two were practically star-crossed lovers."

He grunted.

"Have… have you ever tried to find her again?"

She could see him tensing up the moment she said the words. "No," he replied, after only a slight hesitation.

"You should," she urged him, suddenly feeling excited. Her imagination was racing, creating a rosy picture in her mind of a reunion between her father and Marsha Dunlap.

"No, absolutely not," he said firmly. "I'm sure she's—she's probably got—and anyway, that was years ago. She could live in Singapore for all I know."

"Why Singapore?" she asked curiously.

"I don't know! I just picked somewhere far away."

She laughed, and after a couple of seconds, he smiled.

"I mean it, sweetheart," he said quietly. "I don't want to go looking for her. If I did, I would have done that a long time ago."

She nodded. "Okay, Dad. I hear what you're saying."

He's probably scared,she thought. Just because he's single now, doesn't mean she is. He probably doesn't want to stir things up and have everything feel more sad than ever. But I'm not going to give up. Alissa said that Marsha Dunlap lives in Whale Harbor and has a business there. I want to find her. Then I can figure out if she's single or not. And if she is, I hope he's willing to try to meet up with her again. It's clear that he was very in love with her once.

She tingled with excitement at the thought, and her father noticed her enthusiasm.

"What?" he asked her. "Why are you smiling?"

"I—I don't know. Thanks for telling me about your past like that, Dad. I think it's a sweet story, and I feel honored that you told me."

"Aw, come here," he said, and wrapped his arms around her.

"Let's get this place all tidied up so we can go home," she told him, grinning. "Come on, throw me a rag or something and I'll start cleaning the stove."

Inwardly, she resolved to keep trying. Someday soon, she was going to find out more about this mystery woman her father was so in love with.

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