Love Lost & Found (Surfside Romance Book 2) Read online

  Stu-Rat was dumb as a rock and tricky as a weasel. But Travis, who was just pulling up, was a hot ticket and a perfect gentleman, walking her to the door and making sure she was settled before leaving. He received a nice tip and an invitation to come back “anytime.”

  Zelda stayed up past midnight watching a show about zoos, wondering why animals were so much smarter than some humans. She pictured Stu in the middle of a pack of hyenas and grinned, but she didn’t want to dwell on the negative. Instead, she wanted to forget the events of the past few hours and think of the handsome driver. She pictured herself as the petite dark-haired beauty she’d once been, with shapely gams and a heart open to love. She and Travis would have made a gorgeous couple.

  Now all she could do was dream of the beautiful music they could have made together if they’d been born in the same century.

  CHAPTER 11

  WITH DAYLIGHT waning, Alexa found the rented red Chevy Cruze in the Avis parking lot at the Portland Airport and stowed their luggage in the trunk. She set the GPS for the address of her old house.

  “Why do you need directions if you grew up here?” asked Hannah, texting as she settled into the seat, phone in hand—her extra appendage.

  “I left home at eighteen, that’s a long time.”

  “So your brain’s like Swiss cheese.”

  “Very funny.”

  “Where’s the snow?”

  “It hardly ever snows here.”

  “So we could’ve stayed in Florida.”

  “Coulda, woulda, shoulda.”

  Alexa cautiously pulled into traffic, keeping a watchful eye for familiar landmarks. The skies were overcast from the thunderstorm they’d just flown through. Puddles dotted the roadway.

  “If I remember correctly, the city is divided into four sections,” she said. “North and south is divided at Burnside Street. East and west is separated by the Willamette River. But so much has changed.”

  New malls had sprung up like mushrooms. Target, Wal-Mart, McDonalds, KFC and Burger King. They could have been anywhere. America was so homogeneous.

  “By the way, it’s the beach in Florida, but it’s the coast out here.”

  Hannah expelled a breath. “And the shore up north. I get it.”

  “More than ten bridges span the Willamette River.” Alexa rummaged in her purse for a stick of gum. “I can’t remember them all, but there’s the Steel, the Burnside, the Hawthorne, and the Ross Island.”

  “That’s only four. You’ve got big time slippage Mom. Soon you won’t remember anything.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  “Four out of ten is pathetic.”

  “The Fremont and the Burnside.”

  “You said Burnside twice. How about the Marquam?”

  “How did you know?”

  “There’s a sign over there.”

  They fell silent. “It looks pretty dreary,” said Hannah. “I can’t believe we’re spending three days here.”

  “When the sun is out, it’s glorious. We’ll take the Aerial Tram and check out Pioneer Courthouse Square.”

  “Why? Are we suing Grandma Sari?”

  “It’s just a cool spot to hang out, trust me.”

  “Why would I trust you? We’re in the middle of Bumfuck, USA.”

  “Give it a rest, okay?”

  Rush hour traffic was snarled and Alexa’s worry meter spiked. What if Sari had gone to Hawaii for a tropical getaway?

  “We can check out the Pearl District,” Alexa added, quickly changing lanes as a car cut her off. “See the upscale stores. And visit the Grotto, that’s really neat.”

  “Whatever floats your boat, Mom. I’m just along for the ride.”

  Alexa, who once loved the rustic architecture, now found it depressing without a purple, pink, or aquamarine building in sight. They left the main thoroughfare as the roads narrowed and houses grew smaller and shabbier.

  “Your destination is on the right,” said the GPS. Alexa eased the car into the semi-circular driveway. The house had new beige aluminum siding and the bay living room window seemed larger than she remembered. The front door had been painted deep crimson, the garage door bright white. A FOR SALE sign hung outside, swaying gently in the breeze. The house looked abandoned.

  Hannah pulled out her earbuds and leaned forward. “What’s going on?”

  “Looks like she moved. I wonder why she didn’t tell me.”

  “Your lines of communication suck.”

  Alexa slid from the car and rang the bell, as if by doing so Sari would materialize. A business card was wedged into the door jamb. She plucked it out. Teena Riley, Broker, Beaverton Realty. She walked completely around the house, hoping to glimpse inside, but all shades were drawn. She rang the bell again and again.

  “Give it a rest,” said Hannah. “Grandma’s flown the coop.”

  Alexa texted her mother’s number and received an automatic reply: Driving.

  Next she dialed Teena Riley. A woman’s voice answered on the third ring. “Beaverton Realty, how may I help you?”

  “Uh-um,” she stammered. “I’m standing outside the house for sale at Southwest 141 Street and I found your card.”

  “It just went on the market.”

  “I’d like to see it.”

  It was Saturday night. Teena probably had plans. The world didn’t stop because Alexa Boswell had rolled into town.

  “Did you want to make an offer?”

  “I can’t make an offer until I see inside.”

  She congratulated herself for not blurting out, this is my mother’s house and she’s vanished without a trace. If she could entice Teena to show her around, perhaps she’d find a clue.

  “I promise to just take a peek. I’m moving here with my daughter and we just got into town. I saw it on the internet.”

  “Really?” Teena sounded upset.

  “Yes, why?”

  “I haven’t listed it yet. We just got the keys.”

  Alexa noticed the lockbox.

  “Listen, I’d really love to show it to you, but with traffic it’ll take forever to get there. How about nine o’clock tomorrow morning? The house will look much more appealing in the sun and you’ll see the lovely garden in the back. I’m sure you want a hot bath and dinner after such a long day. And I can put together a few other options in case this isn’t what you want. Does that work for you?”

  Although she hadn’t expected this setback, Alexa had no choice. “Sure. Fine. Can you recommend a good hotel?”

  If Teena was surprised that Alexa hadn’t booked a place in town, she didn’t show it. “The Paramount on West Taylor is clean and inexpensive. Just tell them I sent you and they’ll give you a complimentary glass of wine.”

  Back in the rental, she reprogrammed the GPS. Their destination, thirty minutes away, held the promise of clean sheets, warm shower, comfy bed, and hot food.

  “You dragged me away from Doc and all my friends for this? I don’t get it.”

  Alexa didn’t either.

  But the real question was: What happened to Sari Conklin?

  CHAPTER 12

  SARI CONKLIN had lived in the house on Southwest 141 Street in Beaverton, Oregon, forever, or so it seemed. She felt no pangs of regret handing the keys over to Teena Riley. With a terse goodbye, a firm handshake, and a wistful smile, she climbed into her new black Jeep Grand Cherokee and drove away. This change was long overdue. Six months earlier, when Alexa and Hannah headed south to Florida, a plan began hatching in her brain. She was tired of being sad; fed up with being miserable.

  On the Friday before Christmas, with no plans for turkey, ham or sweet potato pie, without a tree or even a string of holiday lights, she watched the moving men pack her furniture and household things, load them on the van, and drive away. Since Joe had died, she’d been virtually alone, except for a few good friends. She never considered relocating to Tarrytown when Alexa and Mike were married, nor did she want to impose by moving to Florida.

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sp; Instead, she was headed to Sedona, twelve-hundred miles away, to bake in the sun, drown in turquoise, and hike through the red rock canyons. The most direct route was Steens Highway heading southeast. At dinnertime, she pulled off the freeway and into the parking lot of a roadside inn. She pushed the car door open as the chilly evening air tore through her thin clothing.

  The night clerk, whose tag read Nick Gonzalez, appraised her with coal black eyes. His face was deep olive, his teeth bright white by comparison. Sari held his gaze, as though daring him to say anything. She was broad-shouldered, sturdy with bulky breasts under her gray sweater. Tight black jeans revealed hips made for birthing. Her ear lobes had multiple studs and her shoulder-length white-blond hair was brushed behind her ears. Straight-cut bangs kissed her pale eyebrows. But Nick got no further than her ice blue eyes, intense as sapphires, as he cleared his throat, placed a guest card on the counter, and handed her a pen.

  “Any luggage?”

  “I’ll get it,” she answered, without looking up. “I’m staying one night. I want a second-floor room.”

  He clicked the computer keys and handed her a key card.

  “Where can I grab something to eat?”

  “We have a small dining room, or you can drive five miles down the road to Dan’s Bar and Grille for the world’s best burgers.”

  He slid the completed registration card off the counter and rang up her charge card. “Need help getting the suitcase?” he asked again.

  “I’m good.” She put the credit card back into her wallet.

  After stowing the overnight bag in her room and washing up, Sari went back downstairs to the dining room. She took a carry-out container and loaded it with salad, a slice of meatloaf, and a spoonful of greasy home fries. With a paper cup of hot tea in her other hand and plastic utensils tucked into her back pocket, she returned to the room and shed her shoes, sweater and pants. Wrapping herself in a terry robe, she dug in greedily.

  Keeping the news of her move from Alexa brought on a wave of guilt. She shook it off, convincing herself that her daughter had never shown any desire to return to Portland and, in fact, had come back only once since leaving for college—for Joe’s funeral. So what did it really matter if she knew or not? It wasn’t like she was going to show up on her doorstep unannounced. Once she was settled in her new condo, leased unseen by a realtor in Arizona, she’d invite Alexa and Hannah for a visit. They could take a hot air balloon ride, go hiking, and try to establish some sort of relationship after all these years. Losing Joe had been hard.

  She was moving on.

  She recalled the day they’d met. Sari had just turned nineteen and was working as a receptionist for the law office of Harry Solomon, Esq. Joe was a computer salesman, pitching a new billing program. Joe Conklin was no Adonis. At twenty-seven, he was short and starting to lose his hair. But had the most unusual green eyes, a sweet smile, and an offbeat sense of humor. Even after the billing system was installed, he pursued her until she said, “Yes, I’ll have dinner with you.”

  Joe didn’t know Sari had a one-year-old daughter. The subject had never come up for discussion. He hadn’t asked, she hadn’t mentioned it. But rather than pretend she was single and carefree, Sari brought Alexa to the Laurelwood, placed her in a high chair, and waited for Joe to make a sour face and walk away. Instead, he smiled as though he’d won the lottery and asked, “Who’s this bundle of love?”

  If he was surprised, he gave no indication. If he thought he was going to get lucky, he did. As they chatted, he played with little Alexa and romanced Sari and by the time Alexa turned two they were three peas in a pod. Alexa grew into a fiercely independent teenager. Joe suggested she go east for college and offered to pay her tuition.

  “I’ve been squirreling money aside for you,” he said. Yet in all those years, he studiously avoided revealing she’d been legally adopted.

  Alexa assumed Joe was her dad, there was no reason not to, and Sari never corrected her. The truth rippled just below the surface, unspoken—even as he walked her down the aisle, his gray hair carefully combed over to hide his bald spot. Proud as any father could be on his daughter’s wedding day, he gave her to Mike Boswell with a heavy heart.

  All these years later, Sari still kept the truth hidden. The guilt was almost too much to shoulder. Something had to give. She hoped to find the answers in Sedona, although she could not explain why.

  CHAPTER 13

  HANNAH AND Alexa slept well and marveled at the Paramount Hotel’s sumptuous breakfast buffet. Afterwards, they stepped outside into the sun. For the first time in weeks, Alexa felt rejuvenated and excited, well maybe not excited considering her mother had vanished without a trace, but definitely less stressed and more optimistic in the dry, cool air. Sari couldn’t have gone far. She wasn’t adventurous.

  Hannah was in high spirits, skipping across the lobby and out the door. As they pulled away from the hotel in the rental car, Alexa began pointing out landmarks.

  “I went to Fir Grove Elementary and Highland Park Middle School,” she said. “I’ll take you past them on our way back to the house.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “Don’t you want to see where I grew up?”

  “No, not really.”

  “I don’t get you, Hannah. We’ll probably never come back here again.”

  “Then knock yourself out. What’s that?” she asked, pointing to the majestic peak silhouetted against an impossibly blue sky.

  “Mount St. Helens. Quite beautiful isn’t it?”

  Once again, Alexa was lost. Back in the day, she knew where every road led. Now she was a stranger in a very unfamiliar landscape. She plugged in the GPS navigator.

  As she waited, Teena Riley thumbed through her phone, sitting comfortably in her Infiniti QX 70 emblazoned with a magnetic Beaverton Realty sign. When her clients pulled up, she slid out, lithe as a cat, and smiled. Teena was long and thin, what men call a tall drink of water. She wore a quilted camel-colored down vest and tight white top that showcased her toned arms. Tan slacks clung to stork-like legs and honey-hued locks tumbled over her shoulders. She gazed at the new-comers with golden eyes. She reminded Alexa of a Golden Retriever.

  Alexa wore a yellow turtleneck under a maroon sweater and jeans that were now too tight, thanks to a sedentary job and late night ice cream binges. Sucking in her stomach, she vowed to start a serious diet and then broke into a sweat wondering if she was pregnant from her Thanksgiving romp with Luke. They’d used protection, of course, but condoms weren’t one-hundred percent reliable. Pushing that unwanted thought aside, she still found it impossible to concentrate on anything as Teena approached. She couldn’t be more than twenty-three, but she drove a car worth a small fortune. This young real estate agent was svelte and gorgeous, making Alexa feel frumpy and old by comparison. Teena held out a warm, soft hand. Alexa grasped it like a life preserver.

  When she was Teena’s age, she was already a new mom, not that she’d trade Hannah for an Infiniti, but it must be nice to be making so much money and unencumbered. Of course, Alexa didn’t know any-thing about Teena. She might have triplets at home and an abusive boy-friend. Being envious was part of Alexa’s nature—the way she felt when Cara Galloway won the writing contest—even though she hadn’t submitted a manuscript herself. At some point in the future, she’d deal with it. Today was not that day.

  Teena had an easygoing charm as they walked to the front door with Hannah trailing along behind. “Want to take a peek inside?”

  She expertly spun the dials on the lockbox until the house key tumbled into her palm. The door creaked open as a flood of memories knocked Alexa backward.

  “Ouch! Watch it Mom.” Hannah shoved her mother through the door and into the long-repressed past.

  Although the house smelled lemony, it was no longer lived in. The kitchen had been remodeled with warm rust granite countertops and modern stainless appliances, not the almond-colored ones that she’d grown up with. If Sari designed it, she’d done a g
reat job. The kitchen was the main selling point and now Alexa realized the large pantry had been incorporated, allowing another dozen square feet for an island. A smart move.

  Teena pointed out the perks of the subzero refrigerator/freezer combo and top-of-the-line stove. Politely, Alexa opened and closed the microwave pretending to be interested before following Teena through the dining room to the living area. The brick mantel was just as she remembered. The fireplace was ashy and Sari had left the andirons. She must have moved somewhere warm. Teena said the bay window had recently been replaced and enlarged. Alexa smiled. Her powers of observation were becoming more acute. The master bedroom gave no clue that anybody had made love in it, or had cried after the other occupant of the queen-sized bed had died. She quickly closed the door and proceeded down a long narrow hallway.

  Teena opened the door to the second bathroom, the one Alexa used throughout her school years. In the bedroom, Alexa was shocked to see each wall had been painted a different color: pink, purple, aqua and pale yellow. It looked hideous. She had completely forgotten.

  “Hey, Mom,” said Hannah. “It’s just like the Oceanview Apartments.”

  Teena cocked her head to the side. “What’s that?”

  “It’s where we live. In Florida.”

  Alexa asked, “What happened to the owner?”

  “She moved to Arizona. She told me the town,” she shrugged, “but I can’t remember.”

  Alexa had warned Hannah not to mention that the owner was her grandmother and now she nearly blurted out, How could my mother move to another state and not tell me? Instead, she took a deep breath and tried to remain calm. Hannah tapped her shoulder. “What sweetie?”

  “Have you ever been to Arizona?”

  “No, but I think we flew over it on our way here.”

  “Why would anybody trade this nice cool climate for a place that’s so blistering you could fry an egg on the pavement?” Teena asked.

  The answer was a no-brainer: To start over.