Page 11 of Echoes at Driftwood Cottage

Rowan stood there speechless.

“Well?” Scott prompted.

She cleared her throat. “Um, I don’t know. It’s obviously a coincidence or a mistake. It doesn’t have anything to do with me. I’m standing right here very much alive.”

“It’s a mystery,” Scott stated in a no-nonsense tone. “You need to figure out why it’s here.”

She watched as the man’s form and figure dissipated into nothingness. She waved her hand through the air where he’d stood. “Maybe I’m the one hallucinating. Or dreaming. Or having a nightmare in broad daylight,” she muttered, resisting the temptation to pinch herself.

Still shaking, Rowan took out her cell phone and took a photo of the headstone before heading back to the pickup. Behind the wheel, she went through the truck paperwork and found Wally’s phone number, keying in the digits.

Inside the Pump N Go, Lilly answered the phone.

“Hi. It’s me, Rowan Eaton. I’m out at Eternal Gardens and the truck won’t start. The engine won’t turn over.”

“Oh my goodness,” Lilly said on the other end of the line. “What happened? It was running fine when you left here an hour ago.”

“I don’t know. Maybe the battery’s dead or something.”

“I’ll send Wally out there right away to check it out,” Lilly assured her. “Sit tight.”

For some inexplicable reason, Rowan decided to try to start the pickup again. She stuck the key in the ignition, and it started right up. She rolled her eyes. “Lilly, never mind. It seems to be running fine now.”

“Great. Maybe you should bring it in on Monday and Wally will give it a thorough going over. The last thing we want is you driving an unreliable vehicle stranded on the side of the road.”

Feeling like an idiot— wasn’t that what Scott had called her?—she mumbled her thanks and added, “I might bring it in on Monday if I have any more issues. I’m sorry I bothered you.”

“No bother. Drive safe getting back home.”

“Drive safe,” Rowan repeated as she slid the pickup into gear and stepped on the gas. “It’s not the road I’m worried about, it’s the nutjob running around talking nonsense about me being dead.”

Just to prove a point, she tooted the horn, which now worked as well as it had the day her Granddad had driven it off the showroom floor. And the engine, the engine hummed like a well-oiled machine.

Rowan spent the rest of the day unpacking and trying to put the encounter out of her mind. Around mid-afternoon, when she got hungry, she brewed another pot of coffee and nibbled on grapes and an apple. When that didn’t satisfy her, she cracked open the lavender ice cream and devoured half the carton.

No matter how much she ate, she tried to put it all out of her head. But binging on ice cream didn’t keep her from picking up her phone and staring at the image of the headstone.

“Rowan Avery Eaton,” she murmured as she opened up her laptop to do a Google search of the name. It felt weird Googling herself. And just as she figured nothing out of the ordinary popped up.

She snapped the lid shut and admonished herself for falling for what was obviously some type of scam. But several minutes later, she reopened her laptop and Googled the name Scott Phillips. Photos of a National Guard soldier from Pelican Pointe, California flashed across the screen. Scott had indeed died in Iraq. That part was true. She blinked in disbelief at his obituary, rereading each paragraph several times before deciding she wasn’t going crazy. The guy even had a park in town named after him. Despite verifying his story, though, she had a tough time getting past the incident, especially the headstone.

She jumped when her cell phone dinged with a text message. It was from Daniel.

Want to have dinner with me tonight?

I’d love to but I thought you were stuck at Vanilla Bean until closing.

I think I can trust Kiki one more night to hold down the fort long enough for me to take you out to eat.

Sounds like a plan. Casual or dressy?

Depends on your mood. The Pointe is fancier, dinner by candlelight. Longboards is low-key pizza and pasta.

It occurred to her she might need a quiet environment to tell him about her day.

How about we order a pizza, and you pick it up on the way here? I’ll dig out the candles. :)

Now you’re talking. Seven, okay?

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