Page 33 of Bluebell Tides

“Actually, I do mind. This is private property,” Celia said. “Our guests are eating breakfast or still resting upstairs. I can’t very well have you…”

But Alex and Quentin had already stormed through the lobby and headed for the stairs. Sophie’s heart pounded in her neck. She mouthed the words to her mother, “They’re after Ruth.”

Celia nodded, sucking in her cheeks. They were both thinking the same thing. Ruth was securely in Celia and Landon’s place and safe from the Caldwecks for now.

“I’m going to call the police!” Juliet cried, chasing them with her cell phone raised.

“Don’t,” Celia whispered, drawing Juliet back around.

Juliet gaped at her. Together, the three Harper women listened as Alex and Quentin stormed upstairs, searching for, as they said, “proof that the redesign” hadn’t been up to code.

Juliet’s whisper barely reached Sophie’s ear. “Was it not? Up to code?”

Celia raised her shoulders to her ears. “Maybe there were a few things that…”

“Celia!” Juliet cried.

“Honestly, almost everything is perfect! A portrait of legality!” Celia rasped back. “But we wanted to put environmentalism before anything else. That doesn’t always mean you can play by the state’s rules! Come on. We talked about this.”

Juliet gestured vaguely toward the staircase. “What if they put us out of business?”

Then they heard a terrible knock from upstairs, followed by Quentin’s voice. “If anyone’s in there, you need to come out. Now.” He sounded like an authoritative father.

Sophie’s stomach sloshed. A moment later, Quentin returned downstairs and told them he needed the iron key for the small room upstairs, room thirteen. Because Ruth’s room had been completely vacated and cleaned for another guest, Sophie handed over the key and told him to investigate himself. “But don’t mess anything up!” she said. “That room is for a guest who’s arriving later today.”

Quentin stalled at the staircase. Confusion marred his face. “Where is the guest coming from?”

“Out west,” Sophie answered truthfully, because she’d seen the file earlier that morning.

Quentin looked deflated. He stormed back upstairs to investigate the room himself. But within ten minutes, he and his lawyer were storming out of the lobby and into the glittering June sunlight, annoyed, their cheeks blotchy.

Sophie, Juliet, and Celia waited a good ten minutes before they said anything. They wanted to ensure that Alex and Quentin were far down the road before they gave anything away.

“I don’t understand it,” Juliet breathed. “That poor woman.”

“She hasn’t told you what’s going on?” Celia asked Sophie.

Sophie shook her head, then pulled up another round of online documents meant to illustrate the past decades of Caldweck factory profits. There had to be something there, something to squash Quentin and force him to back off. But what?

It was then, as Celia and Juliet muttered to one another, speculating about Ruth and about Ruth and Quentin’s shared past, that Ruth called Sophie. In hearing Ruth’s voice, Sophie felt a jolt of tenderness that surprised her.

“He came here today,” she whispered, her eyes widening.

“He’s gone?” Ruth asked.

“Yes. He has no idea what’s going on,” Sophie assured her.

“I know better than to underestimate a Caldweck,” Ruth murmured. “Oh, but I’m not calling about that.”

Ruth explained that she’d called her lawyer friend in Manhattan, a woman named Dina. “She wants to take your case,” Ruth said.

Sophie’s stomach throbbed. Why wouldn’t this all go away?

“I can’t pay her,” Sophie said, barely loud enough for Ruth to hear and certainly not loud enough for her mother and Juliet.

“We can talk about that,” Ruth said. “But my friend’s had a wonderful career in Manhattan. She takes on the occasional pro bono project, especially when it comes highly recommended.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Sophie offered. “I’m grateful. Really. Thank you.”