Page 18 of Love Over Easy

Her hand reaches out to do just that. I tense. I’m uncomfortable and not sure how to handle this. Normally I’d cross-check somebody that tried to touch me, but I don’t think that’s how normal people handle situations. Especially not this small, sweet-looking woman.

Kimberly jerks her hand back before it makes contact. “Shit. That’s inappropriate. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. Well, yeah, I did, but I’ve never seen anyone in such great shape. My boyfriend Bode is ripped in the muscle department, but you’re like…hot and perfect. And I will admit that I have a filter problem. The problem is I don’t have one. A filter that is, but I’m working on it. I’ve never seen a flatter stomach than yours. I hope you’re a nice person because it would be easy to hate you for that.”

I truly have no idea how to reply to this woman. Her gaze meets mine and I can do nothing but laugh. I can already tell this is my kind of people. If she’s being straightforward, I’m going to ask, “Why is a chicken on your lap?”

“Oh, this is Henrietta. She’s the resident chicken. I honestly don’t think she knows she’s a chicken. She came with the Inn and I couldn’t get her to leave. Now, we’ve bonded and she follows me around like a dog.”

Disappearing little girls and pet chickens. I don’t remember the island being this squirrely. I finish the cold drink and Kimberly pours me another. “I heard the town had a contest and you won the Inn.”

“It sure did. And I guess their plan for getting women to move here and marry worked because I found the love of my life in the process.” Her eyes go all soft at the mention of her love.

Since she seems to know so much about the town, I’ll push for more info. “I read how you’ve helped the town. Is it true they are offering really great rates on the empty businesses?”

Kimberly’s eyes light up. “It is. There are tax breaks too. Are you interested?”

I shrug, not wanting to appear too eager. What I want to do may be completely impossible. “I might be.”

“Please tell me you want to open a restaurant or a bakery. We don’t have either of those and I miss me some chocolate doughnuts or a meal that’s not artery clogging. Here’s a tip. Don’t eat at the diner in town if you want to stay looking like that,” Kimberly says and points to my abs.

It’s good to know there isn’t a decent place to eat in town. I find myself wanting to talk to Kimberly about why I came to Faire Island. Not everything, but I would like her opinion. “I’d like to open a restaurant.”

Kimberly’s hands fly up in the air, ruffling the chicken’s feathers. “Glory days! I can’t tell you how happy that makes me. I happen to know of a few that are currently vacant. One is downtown. It used to be Ruby’s. It’s more of a sit-down fancy dinner type of place. It seats fifty and the kitchen needs some major updating before it’s usable. I’d say it needs at least a 100K in renovations to bring it back to an acceptable state. There is some hurricane damage.”

My heart drops. I knew it was bad when I’d peeked in the window my first day in town. It hurts to hear how rundown the restaurant has become. While the money isn’t the problem, the timeline is. I know I don’t have that amount of time left on the island.

“Then there is a walkup diner at the marina,” Kimberly says.

My ears perk up. “I saw it yesterday. That’s more what I had in mind. I’d like to start out offering lunch. Then maybe add breakfast.”

Kimberly claps her hands together. The chicken, not liking to be disturbed, flies off her lap and struts out the door. “I’m so excited! And guess what? My boyfriend’s parents own the marina and the diner. Let me call and we can go see it now.”

As I follow behind the whirlwind that is Kimberly, I notice a framed print on the wall of the lobby. A map or diagram of something. There’s an emblem in the top corner that I’ve seen somewhere before, but I can’t remember.

I reach into my pocket and pull out the old coin I found on the beach. I examine it closer and then hold it up to the diagram. It’s a perfect match. From the picture, I can tell the part of the coin I can’t read is the numbers 1821. The year, maybe?

“What do you have there?” Kimberly asks.

I hold the coin out to her and she takes it. She turns the coin over in her hand and then looks up at me. “This looks like a pretty old coin. Where did you find it?”

“On the beach earlier today,” I say and then point to the picture on the wall. “Look, the same image is on the picture.”

Kimberly steps closer and holds the coin up to compare. “You’re right. I found the original house plans in the newel posts when I was working on the Inn. I thought they were interesting and had this one framed. What do you think this means?”

“I have no clue. Maybe a family crest?” I take a closer look at the house plans. “What’s this?” I ask.

“That’s confused me too.” She points to an area of the plans. “This room doesn’t exist. I’ve searched for it and it’s just not there.” She runs her finger down a line from the hidden room to an area outside the house. “I can’t figure out where it goes. What does this line mean?”

I grin, remembering the little girl’s claim of a network of tunnels holding mountains of treasure. I dismissed it as her imagination, but maybe there’s some truth there. Does that mean I believe her tales about the ghosts in the big house? No. Definitely not. “Maybe it’s an underground tunnel.”

“Hmmm, maybe.” She looks back at the coin in her hand. “Do you mind if I send this off to a friend who might be able to give us some insight into its origin?”

“Sure. Go for it.”

Kimberly gasps and sticks the coin in a small box on top of the counter. “Oh, come on. I forgot. Hannah Murphy is waiting on us. She’s really excited about reopening the café.”

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