Saturday night, alone in her attic apartment. Baytown did not exactly offer a downtown nightlife, although drinks with friends at Finn’s Pub was always a good choice. Jade loved Finn’s, owned by the three MacFarlane siblings. Katelyn, who only worked part-time, alongside her two brothers, Aiden and Brogan.

But, tonight, the idea of being alone held appeal. Her day, starting with the run-in with the glowering hulk and meeting with the girls, had been busy with grocery shopping, errands, cleaning her quaint apartment, and preparing new lesson plans.

Standing at her kitchen counter, she poured a glass of wine before moving through the living room. She loved her home, small as it was, and felt lucky to have snagged it, knowing it would not have stayed on the market very long.

Tori once said it reminded her of the attic room she had at her grandmother’s Inn, before she moved in with Mitch.

The elderly owners of the house wanted to rent the attic apartment to a female teacher and she had just stumbled across the ad in the newspaper the day they had it listed. One phone call and one visit later, she was in love and, gratefully, they thought she was a perfect tennant as well.

The large attic had been divided into a living area separated from the small kitchen by a counter. She easily fit a grey sofa with burgundy throw pillows, a comfy chair, and TV stand with her newly purchased flat screened TV. Scoring a small coffee table and matching end table off Craig’s List rounded out the room. The hardwood floors were the room’s glory and she only covered a small portion of the wooden planks with a deep burgundy rug.

The single bedroom was through a door off the living room and her well-appointed bathroom, with its gleaming white tile, included a white, claw-footed tub. She had carried the burgundy theme into her bedroom with a Walmart comforter in multi-tones of burgundy, grey, and white. Craig’s List provided her bed frame and matching dresser. There was a window in her bedroom that overlooked the back of the property, including the owner’s flower gardens. With her own private entrance from a staircase that rose from the back of the house, she felt completely free.

But it was the deck, off the living room through sliding glass doors, that sold her on the place. The small, but sturdy, deck was large enough for two chairs and a little table, and overlooked the bay. The sunsets filled her apartment each evening, casting the room in a golden glow.

Now, taking her glass of wine there, she sat, leaning her head back as she closed her eyes and let the breeze off the bay flow over her. The distant sounds of people leaving the beach met her ears, as well as the sounds from the restaurants on Main Street, and the muted conversations from a few people walking on the sidewalks. She loved being above it all—three floors high gave her the perfect view of the bay, while still making her feel connected to the town.

Connected. Exactly what Lance Greene is trying not to be. She could not stop her thoughts from wandering down that path once more. Truthfully, he had been on her mind all day, alternating between anger and sympathy. Anger that he had lied and intimidated to get her to go away. Sympathy that he felt the need to be so disconnected to others that he did not even want them near his house, which was out of the way to begin with.

She had toyed with the thought of going back the next day to give him a piece of her mind, and had not quite dismissed the idea. Maybe he wants to be left alone, but he went about it all wrong! And he certainly doesn’t have the rights to all the sea glass on the beach!

Tired of thinking of the enigmatic Lance, she downed the rest of her wine in one gulp and re-entered her apartment. Sighing, she rinsed the glass out before making sure her door was locked and then headed into her bedroom. A long, hot bath while finishing the book she had started was the perfect ending to a day that had not started out perfectly.

* * *

Sunday morning dawned just as beautifully as the previous day, and as she finished her bowl of cereal she determined Lance Greene was not going to intimidate her into staying off the southern beach. It had the best view of some of the ships anchored in the bay and she was not going to change her weekend plans for him.

Grabbing her binoculars, shoving the pad of paper and her sunglasses into her little backpack, she settled a ball cap over her head, pulling her ponytail through the hole in the back. With her hand on the doorknob, she spied the pink, plastic bucket with yesterday’s bounty of sea glass still inside. Hesitating, she grimaced as she grabbed it on her way out.

Thirty minutes later, she wandered down the beach, keeping a sharp eye out for where she was in relation to Lance’s property, making sure to not get close. Stopping, she took note of the ships in the bay, jotting down their names and identifications as well as snapping more pictures. She loved the little camera zoom lens she had bought for her phone, surprised at how much more detail she was able to capture in her photographs.

Finished, she stared down at the sea glass she had added to yesterday’s collection. The glistening shards caught the morning light, glowing and twinkling. Almost taunting. Sighing, she lifted her gaze in the direction of Lance’s house, even though she was far enough away she could not see it. Her mind wandered to the beautiful artwork he created.

With a determined air, she turned and headed up the dunes toward the road.

* * *

Having stayed up late again last night, Lance slept in on Sunday morning, a rarity for him. He had spent part of the night working on his latest design, but needed a large piece of sea glass to create the perfect balance.

Rising from bed, he padded into his kitchen, scrubbing the sleep from his eyes as he searched for the coffee. Out. Damn. Realizing he had forgotten to pick it up at the grocery, he stood for a moment in indecision, hating the idea of a grocery run. But, the need for caffeine called, so he headed back into his bedroom. A quick shower later, he grabbed his keys on his way out the front door.

As he pulled the wooden door behind him, his foot tapped an object in his way. Looking down, he viewed a pink, plastic, child’s sand bucket sitting on his doorstep. Incredulous, he stared for a moment, as though the item was an apparition and would disappear. Leaning over, he spied the sea glass in the bottom, more than yesterday’s haul. Sucking in a quick breath, he jerked his head up, scanning the area. No one could be seen. What the hell is her game? The idea that someone had come to his doorstep while he was sleeping unnerved him.

Bending, he snapped up the pail, exposing a folded piece of paper underneath. Taking it, he unfolded the missive.

Mr. Greene, I’m sorry I bothered you yesterday even though I now know the beach is not privately owned by you. Nonetheless, I also know that you use the sea glass to create art and as I have plenty to share with my students, I will gladly return what I gathered yesterday.

Jade Lyons

What should have made him happy, simply infuriated him. How dare she patronize him. I sure as hell don’t want her sympathy! Angry, he left the bucket on the steps and stomped to his SUV. Driving away, he tried to focus on the coffee and whatever else he might need. But the green-eyed Jade continued to invade his thoughts.

* * *

Jade pulled into the parking lot at the Baytown Harbor, near where the fishing boats were docked. Discovering the local fishermen who would sell some of their fresh catches to individuals who came before the restaurant trucks was a bonus for living in a little bayside town.

Waving toward the Carson boat, she stopped just at the edge of the pier where they were moored.

“Hi!” she called out, seeing both Richard and his son, Rick, unloading crates of fish.

“Hey, yourself!” Rick shouted. “You in the mood for some striped bass or trout?”

“Ooh, yeah,” she enthused, her smile aimed at the young fisherman.

Rick nodded and turned to his father, pulling one of each species of fish out of their tank. Rick walked over the gangway to the pier, moving with her to the table with scales. As he weighed the catch, he asked, “How’s Ricky?”

Shaking her head, she laughed, “You know your father will have to rename his business to the Carson and Sons and Grandson.”

Chuckling, Rick nodded. “I reckon my boy’s got fishin’ in his blood.”

“Well, he’s doing great in my class, so you’ve got no worries there. He’s a smart little boy.”

Rick’s smile was joined by his father’s as he came down the gangway, grinning toward her.

“My grandson behaving himself?” Richard asked.

“I was just telling Rick that Ricky is a smart boy, and I might add, a real pleasure to have in class. And, as you know, he loves talking about going out fishing with you.”

Paying for her purchases, she waved goodbye, smiling as she passed the Taylors’ crab boat. She loved crab, but never bought it fresh, the idea of boiling them making her feel ill. Continuing on, she walked several piers over to George Caday’s boat. Greeting him, she checked to see what catch he had brought in.

“Hey, darlin’,” George called out. “I got some flounder today. Not the greatest catch, but it’s good enough to filet.”

“I’ll take one,” she agreed, wrinkling her nose at the smell. His boat was older than the Carson’s boat and the smell occasionally caused her to take a step back as he weighed her fish. Pulling out his long, sharp filet knife, he deftly slit the fish along the spine, easily separating the flesh from the bone.

“Ugh,” she murmured, staring as he pulled the head and spine from the body. With a toss, he got rid of the insides, leaving the white flesh perfect for serving.

He handed her the wrapped, fileted flounder and she smiled her appreciation. “Oh, thank you, Mr. Caday. I’m terrible at getting all the bones out of the fish.”

“Been doin’ it for so many years, I can filet all kinds of fish with my eyes closed,” he laughed, the lines emanating from his eyes deepening. Pushing his old cap back, he asked, “What’d you get from Richard?”

“I got a bass and trout from them,” she replied. “With your flounder, I’m set for the week.”

He placed his hands on his hips and sighed as he looked over at the Carson’s new boat. “Sure is purdy,” he stated. “My old boat needs replacing, but then Richard’s got family to keep his legacy going. ‘Fraid it’s just me.”

Seeing the sadness cross George’s face, she was uncertain what to say.

George did not seem to notice her hesitation, as he continued, “My wife passed on about ten years ago. She got cancer and it took her fast, God bless her soul. We only had one son and he ended up all messed up on drugs. He’s been in prison for the past few years and who knows when he might get out.”

Stunned at the personal information he was sharing, she simply nodded in sympathy.

“My wife was like you…she’d get up early and come down here when I got in to see what I caught.” Chuckling, he added, “She wouldn’t wait till I got home. She’d go looking for sea glass and then head over here.”

“Yes, me too,” she enthused. “I love looking for sea glass. I like to go to the beaches south of town. They are empty and I have all the sea glass I can find.”

Before they could continue their conversation, the harbormaster, Skip Morton walked over, clapping George on the shoulder in greeting.

“Is George telling you tales of the biggest fish he caught?” Skip asked after turning his bright blue eyes toward Jade.

George playfully pushed against Skip’s shoulder. Just when it appeared he was going to say more, a truck rumbled up, interrupting them. She turned around and watched as the owner of the Sunset View Restaurant climbed down from his vehicle.

Thomas Fedor walked over, greeting George and Skip before seeing her holding a few packages of wrapped fish in her hands.

“You gonna be my competition?” he joked.

“Hardly,” she grinned. “But I like to meet the boats once a week and see what I can find.”

Nodding, he replied, “You can’t do any better than fresh fish. I get my local catches from our harbor’s fishermen.”

Knowing he had business to conduct, she bid them goodbye and headed back to her car. As she drove away, she observed Thomas standing on George’s boat, peering down into his tank of fish as Richard stood watching them from his boat.

* * *

Later in the afternoon, Lance tried to work in his studio, but his eyes continually drifted to the pink bucket taunting him as it sat on the corner of his table. Now, trying to remember why he brought it in, the large green piece inside called to him. He knew it would be perfect for his current creation, but the thought that Ms. Lyons’ pity had left it on his doorstep made him want to refuse the offer.

A knock on the front door startled him and he tossed his magnifying headgear down as he stalked toward the door. He could not remember the last time someone came to the front door and now, today, he had two visitors so far.

“What?” he all but shouted, throwing open the door. Seeing Ginny Spencer, Baytown’s only female police officer, standing on his front stoop had him glowering even more. “What? She’s now got you after me? Mitch wasn’t enough? I promise I won’t scare the little bunny anymore,” he grumbled.

Ginny, her hair neatly pulled back into her regulation bun, slid her sunglasses up to rest on her head as her eyes peered up at him. Placing her hands on her hips, she said, “What the hell are you talking about, Lance? What bunny?”

Realizing he was making a fool of himself, he clamped his mouth shut, his lips tightly pressed together.

“You going to ask me in or are we just going to stand here staring at each other, talking about small woodland creatures?” she quipped.

Dropping his head, he let out a deep sigh. “Sorry,” he mumbled, stepping back to allow her entrance. He led the way to the kitchen where he offered her a bottle of water before making his way to the screened porch.

Settling into the chairs, he could not help but think of he and Mitch just yesterday occupying the same ones. He glanced to the side at Ginny, one of the few women in Baytown he had taken the opportunity to get to know. Their shared past of being in the Army’s military police gave them a silent camaraderie. Both being members of the American Legion also gave him the chance to observe her. Quiet, introspective, shunned crowds…in many ways, he understood her, probably better than most.

She had recently gotten together with Brogan MacFarlane, a stoic former Marine, and while he did not spend time thinking of matches, he had to admit the two were made for each other. Finally, his curiosity got the better of him, considering she had never visited before. “So, is this a social call or did you just want some water?”

She shifted her gaze from the bay to him, her lips twitching at the corners. “You bust Mitch’s balls when he comes to visit?”

“Humph…sometimes.” Sighing, he shook his head. “Sorry, Ginny. I’m not fit company for man nor beast,” he admitted.

She nodded and he was glad she did not expect, or probably even want, an explanation.

“I’ve thought about something for a while now, but wasn’t at liberty to talk about it. I’m still jumping the gun, but now I know it’ll soon be public knowledge, so I wanted to bring it up to you. I kind of figure you might need some time to think about it, in case Mitch talks to you officially.”

His interest captured, he turned to look at her more directly.

“The city’s budget has allowed the police department to hire another receptionist dispatcher. You might have seen that Mildred’s sister, Mable, has joined us.”

Lance grinned, remembering the two older women, so alike in looks, one with grey hair tinged with purple and the other’s tinged with blue. Nodding, he stayed silent, waiting for her to continue.

“What most people don’t know is that Sam has been talking about retiring soon.”

Sam Stubbis, the oldest member of the Baytown Police force, had a long, successful career, but lately, health problems had plagued the older man and he had hinted at the last American Legion meeting that his wife wanted him to retire. Looking up sharply at Ginny, he asked, “What’s this got to do with me?”

Ginny turned her gaze full force toward him and said nothing, but her stare said it all.

Shaking his head, he responded to her unasked question, “Not interested, Ginny. Mitch has hinted for a year about a job here with the police force…wasn’t interested then and not interested now.”

She settled back, her eyes now facing the bay again, slowly nodding. After another few minutes, she said, “You got a nice view here. Brogan and I are on the north side of town with a similar view. Sometimes I find myself just looking out for a solid hour, letting the waves wipe away all other thoughts.”

He nodded silently, agreeing with her assessment of beach living.

“You know I had no family support when I left the military…haven’t heard from them in a long time. Sometimes, even as much as the town and the good friends I have here have adopted me, I still feel strangely alone at times. Lonely in a crowd…crazy, isn’t it?”

Once more, completely agreeing with her, he turned his head to the side, staring at her profile.

“I still have nightmares, occasionally. Hell, so does Brogan. Thankfully, we haven’t had them at the same time,” she said, offering a rueful chuckle. “I got a feeling you have them too.”

Seeing his pinched lips, she hastened to add, “Not asking you to share, Lance.” She pulled out a card from her pocket, the information from the Eastern Shore Mental Health Group printed clearly on one side. Laying it down on the arm of his chair, she said, “A helluva lot of us in the American Legion have sought their services. It helps…more than you would think.”

Suddenly, as though she had accomplished all that she had come to do, she stood and walked toward the back door. With her hand raised, flattened on the wood frame, she looked over her shoulder and said, “Respect your desire to be alone. Respect your desire for privacy. Respect the artwork you create. I think it’s good for you…but is it enough? The town could use your investigative skills, Lance. The assistance you offered in the last big case we had was invaluable.” Shrugging slightly, she said, “Think about it. That’s all I ask.”

With that, she walked out, leaving him still sitting in his chair, the business card on the arm, the damn pink bucket still on his table, and his mind racing instead of calm. Watching the surf roll in and out, he shook his head. So much for a peaceful weekend.