Page 7 of Moonlit Hideaway
“Weren’t fishing,” he replied before noticing Sierra. “Good afternoon, miss. I’m Howie Hedges.”
“See-Jane Dolan,” Sierra recovered, giving him a nod.
“Seajane, now that’s a name I’d christen my boat if I still had one.” Howie took the seat next to her as Hank stepped into the nook.
“I put your surf fishing gear in the shed,” he said. “You’re soaked to the bone. Do you want to warm up in front of the stove?”
Howie gave Sierra a wink. “I’m warm enough sitting next to Seajane. What are we having for dinner?”
“You’re in luck,” Mabel said. “We’re having your favorite chicken and dumplings.”
“Aye, I live to taste another meal of yours,” Howie chuckled. “That last wave nearly did me in. If it weren’t for this strapping young lad helping me up, I’d still be kissing rocks down on the shore.”
“Happy to help.” Hank took the hot mitts from the hook and went to take the casserole out of the oven. “Can’t have you catching your death out there. Not on my watch.”
Sierra was glad that Howie occupied Hank’s attention, giving her a chance to relax and enjoy their easy camaraderie.
Just then, the front door burst open again with the sound of howling wind. Had the storm intensified?
“Dad, Gran!” a spritely teenage girl shouted. “Look what Oliver found.”
Without removing her boots, she thumped into the dining nook, followed by a wet and muddy miniature black-and-white potbelly pig.
“Emma, you can’t let Oliver in through the front door,” Mabel scolded. “That’s for the guests.”
“Gran, I love you, too.” Emma threw her arms around her grandmother, who was holding a salad bowl.
Oliver waddled up to Sierra, wiggling his muddy pink snout. He was cute, reminding her of autograph seekers reaching for her on stage. While she debated how to pet the pig, Emma raised her hand, holding up a diamond heart tennis bracelet.
“Oliver found a real diamond bracelet,” she squealed, clearly excited.
Sierra’s heart stopped. Her father had given her the bracelet when her hit song, “Neon Heartbeat,” topped the charts. Each diamond on it was shaped like a heart and set in rose gold to give it additional fire. She’d shown it off on her Instagram page, and it was easily identifiable.
“What do we have here?” Hank’s eyes narrowed on the bracelet and immediately shot a glance in Sierra’s direction.
It was all she could do to feign confusion and shake her head. “Not mine.”
“It’s definitely not mine,” Howie said. “Unless it was tangled up in my fishing line.”
“Oliver rooted it out near the parking strip,” Emma said. “I say finders, keepers, losers, weepers.”
“Not so fast.” Hank held it to the light as brilliant, fiery sparkles danced like neon heartbeats. “This looks valuable. We ought to put it in the safe until the owner contacts us.”
“How would we know if someone just says it’s theirs?” Emma complained, pouting.
Mabel looked around, catching everyone’s eyes. “Well, if the five of us keep our mouths shut, nobody but the true ownerwould know to come asking. They’d likely retrace their steps and put out a notice, and we’ll hand it over if it matches the description.”
“Yep. That’s the right thing to do,” Hank said, patting Emma on the back. “Now, put Howie in the barn and get yourself cleaned up. Dinner’s getting cold.”
His gaze passed over Sierra once again before he walked into the office to put the bracelet in the safe.
Sierra gulped her coffee, burning her throat, glad Mabel was chatting again and not paying attention to her.
That was a close call.
Hank sensed Jane’s nervousness as he sat at the head of the table while Chloe’s empty chair was next to Jane. He bowed his head and gave thanks, after which Howie served Jane a healthy scoop of chicken and dumplings.
“So, Seajane,” he said with a twinkle of mischief in his eye, “where did you blow in from?”
