“You’re kind of high-class homeless.”

“I beg your pardon. I have a master bedroom and a kitchen. And HDTV on satellite. And a great view. Speaking of views...I see just about everything that goes on down on the beach. I’ve been wondering, if I saw something that disturbed me but that I didn’t really want to get involved in, are you a guy I could mention it to?”

Mac got a slightly troubled look on his face, then he pulled up a chair and sat down. He rubbed a big hand down his face. His expression was serious when he said, “I’m not exactly your priest, Cooper. If you saw something I should know about, then yeah, I might want to look into it.”

“Like...?”

“You see anything illegal? Underage drinking? Drugs?”

Cooper couldn’t suppress a laugh. “Nah, haven’t seen that, but I’m sure there’s plenty of that going on. The kids, they’re not stupid—they don’t haul up a keg in the back of one of those Rhinos, but I’d bet my right arm there’s beer down there, tucked in a sleeve or small cooler. Might be pot, might be something else going on. But what if I saw someone getting...I don’t know...intimidated.”

“Assault?” Mac asked.

Cooper gave a shrug. “I don’t think I could call it that. Not quite. Teenage boys, they’re gonna fight sometimes, right? If I saw some intimidating, shoving, that sort of thing, that’s not something you can do anything about, right?”

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that, Cooper,” Mac said, leaning toward him a little with that icy blue gaze looking right through him.

Cooper almost laughed. “So that’s how you do it. Get the bad guys to talk. You look at ’em like you already know what they’re going to say. So just on a hypothetical—what could you do? About a little bullying?”

“Sometimes all I have to do is talk to a few people. I am the law, after all.”

“You are the law,” Cooper agreed. “Tell you what, I’ll pay attention. Right now the kid who’s having a little trouble, he’s real self-conscious about being a snitch. I’ve been there—you’ve probably been there. I’ll keep an eye on that, since I’m here. I’ll let you know if there’s anything to tell. Deputy.” Then he grinned.

Mac leaned back. “You do that. I’d like you to remember, Eve spends some time with her friends on that beach. I don’t want her getting shoved around....”

“Nah, I haven’t seen anything like that.”

“You wouldn’t keep anything like that to yourself, would you?” Mac asked. “Because girls are just as bad as boys, trust me.”

“I’ll take your word for that. Don’t worry, if I saw Eve having issues down there, I’d let you know right away.”

Mac relaxed a little bit. “I hate bullies,” he said.

* * *

Cooper was back to his old self—making decisions fast, full speed ahead. It took a total of five contractors in even fewer days to get a bid he could live with, both in time and money. It was a huge job, but it was going to be done as fast as possible during a wet and cold time of year. They’d gut the bait shop, disposing of most of the interior. They could save the freezer, cooler, microwave and refrigerated cases where Ben had kept deli items. Rawley wanted to give the washers and dryers to some religious group he knew about—they lived kind of isolated along a river south of Coquille and didn’t have much. Cooper told him to take the pots, pans and dishes, too. He stored the unopened liquor in the shed alongside the quad and truck. As soon as Rawley got that truck out of there, Cooper would put his own toys in there. All the racks of cheap souvenirs were tossed. He wasn’t keeping the bait tanks—there was plenty of bait at the marina.

The bait tanks had been kept in the unfinished basement. The floor in the cellar was dirt and the walls cinder block. There was a door to the outside located under the deck, so fishermen could get their bait without walking through the bar. The room was large and deep and, remarkably, there was no mold or rot in the struts and beams, though they could use reinforcing.

Ben had fallen down the staircase that led to the cellar. Cooper kept looking at those stairs, wondering. How could this thing have happened to his friend? Ben was so freaking big...how could he have died from a fall? He should have left a big hole in the dirt floor instead. But wondering got him nowhere, and there was work to do.

Before all the junk had been carted off or the first nail driven in, Cooper started getting visitors from 101 on sunny days, mostly on the weekend. Bikers, cyclists, the occasional motorist—folks who’d been stopping off at Ben’s for years and wondered when the place would be open again. They ranged from the young, fit athletes who pedaled across the countryside to those graybeards on Harleys that Mac had been talking about. It became evident Ben hadn’t relied solely on beach traffic.

Coop ended up spending a lot of time at the diner, showing Gina some of the plans. What he wanted to do was retain the things Ben and the town seemed to value most: the beach, the untouched promontory, the deli/bar, space for gathering.

“I don’t know why you’re going to all this trouble,” she said. “You can sell the place as-is and just that small parcel it sits on, plus the dock and road, and let the next owner worry about renovation.”

“I could,” he said. “But I want to sell a bar. A café. The same bar and deli that was there before, just in better shape, because I think the town relies on it, needs it. It’s the only thing on the beach. And Ben wanted the beach open, for whatever reason. If I tear it down and sell that piece of land, who knows what you’ll end up with in that spot. Could be a car wash or drive-in theater.”

“But why do you care, Cooper?”

“I’m not sure,” he said. “Because my friend seemed to want it that way? Because people use Ben’s place all the time, even when it’s cold? Let’s face it, if I let the whole thing go, it’ll change everything about this place.”

“Some people would consider that a good thing,” she said. “Not me, though. The fact is, even though we aren’t a rich town, we have a very low unemployment rate. A lot of people work away from Thunder Point, some as far as North Bend, but they work. This place doesn’t have tearooms and souvenir shops, and the closest malls are in Bandon and Coquille. And we’re out here on the ocean by ourselves. I like it that way.

“But there are lots of people who think we could do with more revenue for things like schools, libraries, parks, that sort of thing. And of course there’s the real estate—it would be worth so much more. There are people around here who are more than ready to make their killing, and they need a resort to do it.”

“Why?”

“There’s no incentive to build fancy houses or condos in a dumpy little town.”

“What about the north promontory?” he asked. “The point opposite Ben’s refuge on the other side of the bay. There must be land still available out there.”

“There is. But the waterfront is owned by Cliff. He knows a big resort would put Cliffhanger’s out of business. And his whole family has been in fishing for years. He wouldn’t do as well if the marina was full of pleasure boats and all Ben’s land was full of resort, the land surrounding the beach all condos and villas.”

“Wow,” Cooper said. “There’s a lot more to this town than I thought.”

“And you think the kids could go build a bonfire on that beach after a ball game when Hyatt or Marriott owns it? There will be a security gate to get in!” Then she grinned. “Since you’re still here, you going to the game?”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” he said.

“Well, this one’s in Coquille—an away game.”

“You going?” he asked.

“Yeah, we have to go—our girls are cheering. And it’s kind of what we do.”

We. He didn’t miss that. “You and Mac?”

“And Lou. The younger kids. Sometimes my mother.”

He just smiled. “Sounds romantic,” he said.

“Cooper, it’s not romantic. We do stuff with the kids. We have since Eve and Ashley became friends. It works out.”

“What if your kids weren’t friends?” he found himself asking.

She leaned on the counter. “Well, gee. Then I might ask him to the Sadie Hawkins dance, I guess. But that hasn’t come up.” She refilled his cup. “Homecoming is in less than two weeks. There’s a dance. I’ll sign you up to chaperone.”

“Very funny.”

“Oh, you thought I was being funny? It’s the Saturday night after the Friday-night game. Dress nice.”

“Get real, Gina.”

“I’m as real as it gets. Need directions to tomorrow night’s game?”

“Yes. Thanks.”

* * *

Landon decided he was going to have to have a man-to-man talk with Cooper. He’d been avoiding him, which wasn’t too hard to do—his sister had been around a lot and when she wasn’t, he’d had football practice and then a shit pot full of homework. But at Friday night’s game in Coquille, Cooper had been there, spending most of his time hanging around the sidelines. One time, when Landon looked up, he’d been talking to Eve’s dad, the local law. He’d been pointing at Landon and a couple of the other players; the deputy had been grim faced and nodding.

And that dog wouldn’t hunt.

“Landon?”

He pulled one more book out of his locker and turned to find himself eye to eye with the most beautiful girl at Thunder High, Eve McCain. She was smiling at him and he returned the smile so fast, so lame, he felt like an instant loser. He felt like some idiot who’d just won the lottery. He crumpled in the face of the sexiest girl on the planet.

He recovered his cool. “Hey,” he said.

“Good game, Friday night.”

“Thanks. Not a real tough game.” And thankfully they’d let Jag Morrison, the future homecoming king, play a lot. Therefore Jag left him alone.

“Still. So, I was going to wait till after Chemistry, but I was wondering who you’re taking to the dance?”

He gave a shrug. “I probably won’t go,” he said.

She stiffened in shock. “But you have to go! Everyone on the team has to go!”

He felt a laugh come to his lips. Jag Morrison was destined to be a real king, the homecoming king, a position only open to seniors. He’d get that crown even if he had to buy it. Therefore that dance didn’t feel like the ideal place to be, even if he wanted to go. “I’ll probably show up for a little while....”

“Well...would you like to show up for a little while with me?” she asked. And the usually bold and vivacious Eve blushed shyly. “I mean, I can’t believe you don’t have a date.”

“No. Wait. You don’t have a date? You?” He was thunderstruck, to borrow a phrase from one of their most famous cheers.

She laughed lightly and shook her head, clutching books tight against her chest. “It’s pretty hard to ask, too, so try not to hurt my feelings too bad.”

“I can’t believe you’d even... Jeez,” he said, scratching his head. “Me?”

“Why not?” she shot back. “I thought we were friends.”

“Absolutely. Of course. Yes, we’re friends, of course we are.”

“So?”

He thought for a moment before he said. “You’re sure?”

“Oh, I’m sure. Can you drive or should I?”

“I can drive, sure. Maybe I can borrow my sister’s ride. I just have that little truck. It’s okay, but...”

“Landon, the truck is fine for me. Whatever you want.”