Free Seaside Reunion by Irene Hannon

patch of headland on the northern California coast. It looks like hundreds of other headlands, more scenic than some, not as scenic as most. Passing motorists might not even notice it as they zip by on Highway 101, their focus instead on the quaint town of Starfish Bay.
    Yet The Point, as it’s known to residents, is a touchstone for many. A place that helps define their town—and their hearts. An anchor in the turbulent sea of life. A repository of memories, exerting a pull strong enough to call home a prodigal son.
    But this tiny piece of real estate is threatened, along with the small chapel atop it that has offered solace and hope for decades. And if they disappear, there will…
    “That’s a private document.”
    At Nate’s chilly tone, Lindsey jerked away from the computer screen. The soda cans slipped from her grasp and clattered to the floor.
    As she bent to gather them up, heat flooded her cheeks. She’d been so engrossed in his words she’d missed the warning jingle of the bell over the door. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snoop. The reference to The Point caught my eye.”
    Instead of responding, Nate brushed past her and snapped the computer shut. When she stood, cans once again tucked into the crook of her arm, he’d slid it into its case and taken out his car keys. The taut line of his lips wasn’t promising, but it couldn’t hurt to try one more apology.
    “Nate, I’m sorry.”
    “How much did you read?”
    “Just a couple of paragraphs.”
    His fingers clenched on the handle of the case, and his blue eyes were cold as a Nordic glacier. “Where’s the next closest spot with Wi-Fi?”
    Her stomach twisted. “Crescent City.”
    She thought about apologizing again, but she’d already made two attempts. No reason to think he’d soften on a third try. And she couldn’t fault him for being irritated at her for trespassing into private territory.
    He started toward the exit, and she trailed after him. “Will you be back to help with Jarrod?”
    Hand on the door, he angled toward her. “I always honor my commitments.”
    Somehow, that didn’t surprise her. “Do you still want your cookie?”
    “No.” He turned his back on her and pushed through to the outside, flinging his final words over his shoulder. “I’m not hungry anymore.”
    The door banged shut behind him, the bell overhead sounding far too cheery as it announced his departure.
    For a few seconds, Lindsey remained where she was. Then she trudged over to the counter, deposited the cans in the recycle bin, and watched through the window as he spun out of the parking lot in a churn of gravel.
    Man, she’d really hit a nerve.
    She climbed onto the stool, set her elbow on the counter and propped her chin in her hand. If he’d been working on an article for the Tribune about the war, she doubted he’d have reacted as strongly to her faux pas. But what she’d read had sounded more like a journal.
    Cringing, she thought about how she’d feel if anyone read the diary she’d kept after Mark’s death, at a grief counselor’s suggestion. Not pleased, that’s for sure. Those gut-wrenching thoughts had been torn from deep in her psyche. She wouldn’t want her father to read them, let alone a virtual stranger. If Nate’s piece contained even a smidgen of that soul-baring angst, it was no wonder he’d been so upset.
    Yet her regret was tempered by a sudden rush of warmth for the man who’d mere days ago reacted with such cynicism to her vow to fight for The Point. Though he’d professed indifference, it seemed he was as unhappy about the potential loss as she was.
    Too bad she couldn’t persuade him to use his obvious literary talents to help save it.
    But as she gazed out the window, where the dust was at last settling after his hasty departure, she figured that was about as likely as Lillian convincing Genevieve to embrace the computer age.
     
     
    Once again, he’d blown it.
    Nate deposited his laptop on the bed in his room