Page 1 of Valentine On Palmar Island

Chapter One

Charlotte Bennett drummed her fingers on the steering wheel as she approached the bridge to Palmar Island. The morning sun glinted off the water, creating a shimmer that made her wish she could stop right there and capture the moment. But there would be time for spontaneous shots later. Right now, she had a schedule to keep.

The Sutton Publishing deadline loomed in her mind as she crossed the causeway. Six weeks to photograph every historic landmark on the island, each image needing to capture not just the architecture, but the soul of this place. Coffee table books were more than just pretty pictures. They were stories told through light and shadow, perspective and detail. At least, that's what she'd promised during her pitch meeting.

Her rental car crested the bridge, and Palmar Island spread out before her like a watercolor painting. The morning light cast long shadows across weathered buildings and bare oak branches. To her right, waves lapped at a sandy shoreline dotted with wooden piers. To her left, Main Street beckoned with its row of historic shops, their windows decorated with remnants of holiday garland not yet taken down.

"Well, this is promising," she murmured, slowing down to take in the details. A door swung open, releasing the smell of coffee and fresh pastries into the crisp morning air. Two locals in heavy coats hurried into the general store, and even the hardware store, with its faded red awning, looked like it belonged on a postcard.

Charlotte pulled into a parking spot near her first assignment. The Carroway Building. She'd researched it extensively. Built in 1892, one of the island's first brick structures, and currently undergoing restoration. But nothing in her research had prepared her for its quiet grandeur. Bare vines crept up the weathered brick facade, framing windows with elaborate wooden trim that someone had clearly spent hours carving by hand. The winter light cast deep shadows across the porch columns, emphasizing every detailed curve and groove.

"Now this," she said, reaching for her camera bag, "this is exactly what I'm looking for." She grabbed her tripod from the trunk, along with the leather messenger bag that held her notes and permits. The whole process of setting up was familiar, a dance she'd performed countless times in countless places. Position the tripod. Check the light. Adjust the lens. Her fingers were stiff from the cold as she made the final adjustments.

She was just about to take her first shot when a deep voice broke her concentration.

"Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to stop right there. This is an active restoration site."

Charlotte lowered her camera and turned toward the voice. A tall man in a flannel shirt rolled up to his elbows stood at the bottom of the building's steps. Sawdust dusted his shoulders and clung to his sandy brown hair. His stance was solid, protective even, as if he'd planted himself between her and the building.

"I have permission to be here," she said, reaching for her bag. "Charlotte Bennett. I'm photographing the island's historicbuildings for Sutton Publishing." She pulled out the folder containing her permits and documentation.

"Grant Lawson." He climbed the steps, closing the distance between them. "I'm the restoration specialist working on the Carroway." His blue eyes studied her permits with the same intensity she'd been about to direct at his handiwork. "These structures are more delicate than most people realize." He tapped his boot against the porch planking, "One wrong step on these boards could damage work that's taken weeks to stabilize."

Charlotte felt her jaw tighten. "Mr. Lawson, I've photographed historic sites all over the world. I know how to work around restoration projects without compromising them." She kept her tone professional, but couldn't quite hide her irritation. Did he think she was some tourist with a point-and-shoot?

"All over the world," he repeated, handing back her permits. Something in his voice made her look up from returning them to her bag. His expression had shifted slightly. It was still cautious, but there was a hint of curiosity. "Then you understand why we're particular about who gets close to these old places."

"I do." Charlotte adjusted her camera strap. "And I promise, your restoration work will look beautiful in the book. The Suttons specifically wanted to highlight the craftsmanship that goes into preserving these buildings."

Grant's shoulders relaxed a fraction. He opened his mouth to respond, but a sudden bark interrupted whatever he was about to say. Charlotte turned to see a scruffy white and brown dog trotting up the sidewalk, tail wagging as if he'd been invited to join their conversation.

For the first time since their encounter began, a small smile tugged at Grant's lips. "And this is our unofficial project supervisor. He shows up every morning to inspect the work."

The dog circled Charlotte's legs once before sitting at her feet, looking up at her with bright, hopeful eyes. Without thinking, she crouched down to scratch behind his ears. "Does the supervisor have a name?"

"Not that I know of. Shows up at most of my work sites." Grant watched as the dog leaned into Charlotte's touch. "He seems to approve of you."

Charlotte laughed. "Well, that's a relief. Maybe now I can get back to work?" She stood, brushing dog hair from her jeans. "Unless the supervisor has any other concerns?"

Grant's expression softened. "I think we're good. Just be careful on the north side of the porch. Those boards aren't secure yet."

The dog settled himself between them, tail sweeping against the weathered wood of the porch. Charlotte couldn't help noticing how his presence had shifted the energy between her and Grant.

"Does he belong to anyone?" she asked, crouching down again to scratch under the dog's chin. His fur was matted in places, but his eyes were bright and intelligent.

"No, he's been wandering the island for a few months now." Grant leaned against one of the porch columns. "Shows up at most of my work sites, charms a few treats out of the restaurant owners, then disappears until the next day."

The dog had discovered Charlotte's camera bag and was nosing it curiously. She gently redirected him, earning a sloppy kiss on her hand for her efforts. "Quite the little entrepreneur, aren't you?" she said to the dog. "I could use an assistant for these shoots. Someone to carry my equipment, maybe warn me about protective carpenters?"

That earned her another smile from Grant, this one reaching his eyes. "He'd probably work for treats and belly rubs."

"Don't we all?" Charlotte stood, brushing dog hair from her jeans again. The morning sun had risen higher, changing the light on the building's facade. "I should get started while the light's good. Any other safety warnings I should know about?"

Grant seemed to consider this for a moment. "Actually, if you're planning to photograph all the historic buildings, you might want a guide. Some of them are in pretty delicate condition." He pulled a business card from his shirt pocket. "Give me a call before you head to any of the restoration sites. I can make sure you don't end up somewhere unstable."

Charlotte accepted the card, noting the simple text: "Grant Lawson, Historic Restoration Specialist" followed by a phone number. "I appreciate that."

Grant nodded and headed inside, leaving Charlotte to her work. The dog, however, stayed by her side as she photographed the building from various angles, occasionally offering his opinion with a soft woof.

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