Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

Rose

T he journey to Lublin Harbor is long but uneventful. My flight lands in Portland, where I rent a car to drive up the coast. As I leave the busy highways behind and turn onto the smaller coastal roads, I feel the last of my stress begin to melt away.

The scenery is everything I’d hoped for and more. Quaint New England towns dot the coastline, with their white-steepled churches and colorful clapboard houses reminiscent of postcards. The road winds along the shore, offering breathtaking views of the Atlantic Ocean.

Lost in the coastal beauty, I’ve been driving on autopilot, barely aware of time passing. The gentle rhythm of the journey – lighthouse, harbor, village, repeat – has lulled me into a peaceful trance. This stretch of Maine’s coast has been so consistently picturesque that I’ve fallen into simply soaking up the scenery, letting my mind wander with each new vista.

The GPS chime startles me, and I barely exit in time. Tires grip the road as I veer onto a narrow lane. My galloping heart gradually steadies as I follow this new path, the scenery transforming with each bend in the road.

As I near Lublin Harbor, I slow down, drinking in every detail. The late afternoon sun casts a golden glow over the landscape, making everything seem magical and slightly unreal.

As I crest a particularly steep hill, I glimpse the ocean in the distance, a glittering blue expanse on the horizon. The road begins to slope downward, and I can feel excitement in my chest. I’m getting close now.

I pass by a few scattered houses, their styles a curious mix of traditional New England architecture and something older and more European. As I approach the town, it’s as if two different worlds are slowly merging.

Finally, I see a large welcome sign: “Welcome to Lublin Harbor, A Town Built on Love.” The sentiment makes me smile, and warmth spreads through my chest. As I drive into town, I’m struck by its unique charm. It’s as if someone took a Norman Rockwell painting of small-town America, sprinkled in the rugged charm of a Maine fishing village, and then, for good measure, dropped a few European cathedrals into the mix.

At first glance, it seems like a typical coastal village with salt-worn docks and cozy seafood joints. But then I spot a towering Gothic church, its dark stone contrasting with the cheery clapboard houses surrounding it.

Main Street lives up to its name, with shops and restaurants lining both sides of the road. To my right, quaint storefronts overlook the sparkling harbor, while to my left, a peaceful park spreads its green expanse.

My GPS guides me past the marina, and I can’t help but slow down to admire the forest of boats. A line of houseboats catches my eye, each more charming than the last. They’re colorful, ranging from rustic wooden structures to more modern designs with sleek lines and large windows.

But one houseboat stands out from the rest. It’s a blue and white clapboard beauty reminiscent of a miniature Cape Cod cottage set afloat. Delicate gingerbread trim adorns its white edges, lending a storybook charm, while red geraniums spill from every window box against the blue siding. A small deck off the back is furnished with a pair of Adirondack chairs, perfect for watching the sunrise over the water.

My pulse quickens as I recognize the houseboat from the photos – though they hardly did it justice. My excitement builds as I imagine spending the next few weeks in this floating haven, sketching the view from those chairs and falling asleep to the gentle rocking of the waves.

“You have arrived,” announces my GPS, pulling me from my daydream. I park in front of Divine Harvest, a charming old-fashioned bakery splashed with cheerful red and pink trim, where my houseboat keys – and my adventure – await.

As I step inside, the scent of fresh-baked goods envelops me. I approach the display case, my mouth watering at the sight of the pastries. I’m about to ask the person behind the counter about needing to talk to the rental owner when a woman’s voice calls out, “Are you Rose?”

I nod and turn toward the voice. A tall, blonde woman approaches with her hand extended in greeting. Her hair is gathered into a relaxed, twisted updo, with soft tendrils framing her face and a single flower tucked into her hair. As we shake hands, I’m struck by her large, expressive eyes that immediately convey a sense of vivaciousness, humor, and fun. She’s dressed in a 1950s housewife-style dress overlaid with an apron that catches my artist’s eye. It’s embroidered with colorful flowers and, curiously, a couple of spiders.

I shake her hand, smiling at the smudge of flour on her cheek. “Yes, I’m Rose Ashford. I’m, ah, renting the houseboat.” I hook my thumb over my shoulder, indicating the marina back down the road.

“Yes, I’ve been expecting you. I’m the owner of the houseboat. My name’s Mokosh, but everyone calls me Koko.”

When I offer my hand, Koko squeezes it once before letting go and handing me a key and a little packet of papers. “Here’s everything you need,” she says warmly. “The itinerary of events you chose, the Wi-Fi password, a list of amenities, maps, brochures for the area, and some local recommendations. Oh, and my number in case you have any questions.”

I quickly scan the itinerary, a smile spreading across my face. Although it’s packed with exciting activities, I’m pleased to see ample time set aside for relaxation. It’s the perfect balance of adventure and downtime that I was hoping for.

As I flip through the rest of the packet, Koko adds, “If you want to change anything on the list of activities, just let Levi know. He’s flexible with his schedule and knows all the hidden gems around here. He can tailor the experiences to whatever you’re in the mood for.”

“Levi?” I ask, looking up from the papers.

“Oh, he’ll be your tour guide while you’re in town,” Koko explains. “He’ll meet you at the harbormaster’s office in the marina first thing tomorrow to get started on all your activities.”

As I’m about to thank her and leave, Koko exclaims, “Oh! I almost forgot!” She momentarily disappears behind the counter and emerges with a charming wicker basket. “A little welcome gift for you,” she says with a warm smile, handing it to me.

I peek inside to find a bottle of red wine nestled among an assortment of freshly baked goods. The aroma wafting up from the basket is heavenly.

“There’s a mix of our most popular items in there,” Koko explains. “But make sure you try the chocolate babka first,” she adds with a conspiratorial wink. “It’s the best in New England if I do say so myself.”

I can’t help but chuckle at her enthusiasm. “Thank you so much, Koko. This is incredibly kind of you.”

“It’s my pleasure,” she replies. “We want you to feel at home here in Lublin Harbor.”

Keys in hand, I return to my rental car, a thrill of anticipation rising in my chest. I drive the short distance to the marina as the setting sun paints the sky in brilliant oranges and pinks, their hues mirrored on the water’s surface. After parking, I take a deep breath, savoring the salty sea air that fills my lungs. A smile spreads across my face, unbidden but welcome.

I open the trunk and haul out my rolling suitcase, setting it down with a soft thud. Balancing the welcome basket in the crook of my left elbow, I tuck the rental information packet under my arm. With my right hand free, I grab the handle of my suitcase. Heading down the dock, the wheels of my suitcase clatter against the uneven wooden boards, creating a rhythmic soundtrack that announces my approach. Despite the awkward load, I can’t help but feel a rush of excitement with each step that brings me closer to my lodgings.

Following the numbers on the dock, my heart leaps when I see it is indeed the blue and white clapboard beauty I’d admired earlier. Up close, it’s even more charming. The gingerbread trim is intricately carved, and I can see the care and attention to detail that’s gone into maintaining this floating cottage.

With a happy squeal, I unlock the door and step inside. The interior stops me in my tracks. It’s like stepping into a seaside dream. The main living area is open plan, with large windows offering views of the harbor. The walls are painted a soft sea-foam green with white trim, complementing the weathered wood floors. A plush navy sofa faces the windows, flanked by white wicker armchairs with blue and white striped cushions.

To my right, a small but well-equipped kitchenette boasts white cabinets with brass hardware and a butcher block countertop. A vase of fresh wildflowers sits on the small dining table, adding a pop of color and a homey touch.

A narrow hallway leads to the bedroom, with a queen-sized bed with crisp white linens and a quilt in shades of blue that remind me of ocean waves. A small writing desk sits in the corner, perfect for sketching or working on my laptop.

The bathroom, though compact, is charming with its space-saving features and nautical touches. A corner shower stall with a glass door occupies minimal space while offering ample room to move. A porthole window adds character and lets in natural light, making the small space feel airier. Navy and white striped towels hang from brass hooks, echoing the maritime theme. Everything is spotlessly clean and smells faintly of lavender and sea salt.

As I step back onto the deck to take in the view again, I notice something I’d overlooked in my initial excitement. Tucked neatly against the side of the houseboat is an array of watersports equipment. A sleek kayak is secured to the railing, its vibrant red color a stark contrast to the blue and white of the houseboat. Next to it, a stand-up paddleboard leans against the wall.

I can’t help but smile as I spot a fishing rod and tackle box. The thoughtful inclusion of these items fills me with anticipation for the adventures that await. I’ve never been much of an outdoor enthusiast, but something about this place makes me want to try it all – to immerse myself fully in the coastal lifestyle.

Unable to contain my excitement, I pull out my phone and FaceTime Heather. She answers on the second ring, her face lighting up as she sees my grin.

“Well? How is it?” she asks eagerly.

“It’s perfect, Heather. Absolutely perfect. Let me show you around!”

I walk through the houseboat, showing Heather every nook and cranny, both of us oohing and aahing over the charming details. Finally, I step out onto the deck, turning to show her the Adirondack chairs I’d admired earlier.

Suddenly, Heather’s eyes widen, and she asks in a breathless voice, “And who is that?”

I turn, following her gaze, and see a handsome man standing on the deck of the houseboat next door. He’s tall and athletic looking, with a strong jaw, piercing blue eyes, and sun-bleached blond hair. At the sound of Heather’s voice, he looks over, our eyes meeting briefly before he quickly disappears inside his houseboat.

“Oops,” Heather giggles. “I didn’t mean to scare him away. He looked hot. You should go introduce yourself.”

I shake my head, feeling a mix of amusement and embarrassment. “I don’t know. He didn’t look too pleased to see me. I can’t decide if he was shy, embarrassed by your words, or just not friendly.”

“Well, you’ve got two weeks to figure it out,” Heather says with a mischievous grin. “Who knows? Maybe he’ll be your spring fling.”

I roll my eyes but can’t help glancing back at the neighboring houseboat. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I came here to relax and find inspiration, not to chase after mysterious neighbors.”

“ Puhlease . You can do both,” Heather says with an arched eyebrow.

“Even if I wanted to, I didn’t exactly come prepared for that kind of… adventure,” I admit, feeling my cheeks warm. “And in a town this small, a trip to the store for condoms might as well be a public announcement. Everyone would know what I was up to.”

There’s a pause, and then Heather’s voice comes through the phone, practically dripping with glee. “Oh, honey, don’t you worry about that. I snuck some into your luggage.”

“You what?!” I exclaim, my voice rising to a pitch I didn’t know it could reach.

“You can thank me later,” Heather says, sounding too pleased with herself. “I tucked them into that little front pocket of your suitcase. You know, just in case.”

I’m momentarily speechless, torn between mortification and grudging appreciation for my friend’s foresight. “Heather, I swear…”

“What?” she asks innocently. “I’m just looking out for you. Better safe than sorry, right?”

I lose it when she waggles her eyebrows suggestively at me, and I start cackling like a hyena. Despite my embarrassment, I can’t help but be grateful for Heather’s… unique brand of friendship.

“You’re impossible,” I say once I’ve caught my breath.

“You love me,” Heather retorts, and I can’t argue.

As I say goodnight to Heather and settle into my new temporary home, I can’t help but wonder about the blond stranger. Despite my words to Heather, I hope I’ll see him again. There is something intriguing about him – and not just because he was hot.