A High-End Finish(34)

“Okay, you’ve heard of MacKintyre Sullivan, right?”

“The writer? Of course. I love his books.”

“I do, too.” Her eyes lit up and she waved her hands excitedly. “Well . . . he’s moving to Lighthouse Cove!”

“Moving? Here?” I shook my head in confusion. “Why?”

“Why not? We have a wonderful little town.”

“Of course we do,” I said, “but he belongs in Hollywood or New York, doesn’t he?”

“No,” she said quickly. “I mean, yes. Okay, I was a little shocked to hear it, too, because what are the chances, right? But isn’t it awesome? I just reordered a bunch of his books for the store last week. Everybody loves him. Hal loves him, too. Don’t you, honey?”

Hal turned from the stove, where he was stirring something that smelled fantastic. I could detect the aroma of onions and garlic, so I was happy. He turned down the heat and joined us at the bar, where he’d left his wineglass. “His books are great.”

MacKintyre Sullivan was a famous crime novelist whose books were always winning awards and hitting bestseller lists. His main character, Jake Slater, was an ex–Navy SEAL turned private detective who specialized in lost causes. When things got really rough, he would call on a motley group of misfits from his black-ops days to help him right the wrongs of the world. Sullivan’s first book had been made into a blockbuster movie and Jake Slater was getting to be as popular as James Bond and Jack Reacher.

Lizzie rested her elbow on the counter. “I love Jake Slater. Rich, gorgeous, brave, dashing.”

“And fictional,” I said, smiling.

Marisa turned from the stove, where she had taken over stirring the onion mixture. “That movie was so awesome.”

“It was,” I said. I was a sucker for action films.

“You should see him in person, Shannon,” Lizzie whispered ecstatically. “He walked by the store this afternoon and looked inside the window. We made eye contact and he smiled and waved at me.” She patted her chest. “Oh, God, he’s soooooo cute! And he’s single! I heard he was engaged but it didn’t work out. Which means there’s no woman in his life. Currently.”

“Don’t even think about it.” I happened to glance at Marisa, who was rolling her eyes at her mom. Laughing, I said, “But he is awfully cute, at least according to his book jackets. I’m sure I’ll get a chance to see him eventually.”

“Of course you will,” she assured me. “Oh, and Cindy at the diner told me he likes to be called Mac. She said that while he was eating lunch, people came up and asked for his autograph and he was perfectly happy to give it. He’s not stuck-up or anything.”

“That’s nice to hear.”

“And she agreed that he’s incredibly handsome.”

I glanced over at Hal. “Did you get a chance to see him, Hal?”

“Yeah.”

“What did you think?”

He pressed both hands to his cheeks. “OMG, Shannon! He’s such a dreamboat.”

I laughed again. “You sound just like Marisa.”

Marisa turned and glared at me. “I resent that.”

“It was a compliment,” I said. “Your father’s funny.”

“I know. He makes me laugh all the time.” She ran over and wrapped her arms around her dad’s waist.

I shared a sentimental glance with Lizzie, who knew how lucky she was. Even though Marisa had recently become a teenager, she was still a sweet girl and hadn’t yet turned into a raging hormonal monster.

I took a sip of wine. “Do you know where he’s . . . Oh, wait a minute. MacKintyre Sullivan didn’t just buy the old lighthouse keeper’s house, did he?”

“Yes!”

Mystery solved, I thought. Although the fact that Mrs. Higgins had heard the news before I had was just so wrong.

Our famous lighthouse had been standing out on the bluff since 1870 and the home attached to it was nearly as old. An earthquake had almost destroyed it, but instead of tearing it down, the town decided to refurbish it with steel reinforcement rods encased in concrete. It had lasted more than one hundred years and was still in fine shape.

The year I was born, the town of Lighthouse Cove acquired the lighthouse and attached mansion from the U.S. Coast Guard. In recent years, the light itself and the foghorn had been replaced with new technology that was maintained by the lighthouse trust. Recently, the trust had begun to search for a new owner for the mansion, a person who would agree to live next door to an operational lighthouse with its thriving gift shop and small museum.

Apparently they’d found a buyer.

“Do you think he means to live there?” I wondered aloud. “Or will he just fix it up and try to flip it?”

“I haven’t heard,” Lizzie said. “I hope he stays. And I hope he comes into the store soon. We have all his books in stock and I’d love to get him to sign them.”

“If he’s as wonderful as you’ve heard he is,” I said, “I don’t know why he wouldn’t want to.”

Lizzie tucked her arm through Hal’s. “He’s still not as nice and cute as you are, honey.”

“Nobody is,” Hal admitted with a sigh. He lifted her off her feet, gave her a semihot kiss on the lips, and walked away. Lizzie stared at his back until he disappeared down the hall.