Between Rains, page 1
Between Rains
Pacific Bay Series - Book 4
Kellie Coates Gilbert
Copyright © 2021 by Kellie Coates Gilbert LLC
Published by Amnos Media Group
All rights reserved.
Cover design: The Killion Group
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No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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www.kelliecoatesgilbert.com
This book is dedicated to two dear friends who have stood alongside me on this publishing journey, cheering and waving pom-poms. I love you two.
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Joanne Kimey
Nancy Patrick
What Others are Saying About Kellie’s Books
“Well-drawn, sympathetic characters and graceful language”
~Library Journal
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“Deft, crisp storytelling”
~RT Book Reviews
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“I devoured the book in one sitting.”
~Chick Lit Central
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“Gilbert’s heartfelt fiction is always a pleasure to read.”
~Buzzing About Books
Also by Kellie Coates Gilbert
THE PACIFIC BAY SERIES
Chances Are
Remember Us
Chasing Wind
Between Rains
THE SUN VALLEY SERIES
Sisters
Heartbeats
Changes
Promises
LOVE ON VACATION SERIES
Otherwise Engaged
All Fore Love
TEXAS GOLD SERIES
A Woman of Fortune
Where Rivers Part
A Reason to Stay
What Matters Most
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
SNEAK PEAK
About the Author
Also by Kellie Coates Gilbert
1
Rhett Duvall leaned against the seat and closed his eyes as the plane descended onto the runway. The cabin of an aircraft felt like home to Rhett, he’d flown in them so often. He could curl up and sleep as easily as dozing on the couch, often quipping that a 747 was his sky-born cradle, rocked by the winds far above the ground.
Unlike most people, Rhett enjoyed living out of a suitcase for his job, traveling around the country. Last year, he’d spent two hundred out of three hundred and sixty-five nights in a hotel room. He wasn’t complaining, mind you. He’d worked damned hard to get where he was. No one really knew what it had taken to climb to the highest rungs on the Chicago Private Equity Group ladder. His high six-figure salary had cost him vacations, holidays with family, and a fiancée. Personal time was a limited commodity. He couldn’t even own a dog.
Some might claim the sacrifices were not worth it. Not him. Rhett Duvall was a man who loved the thrill of chasing a prospect and closing another deal.
The flight attendant’s voice rang out over the intercom, “Welcome to the Portland International Airport.” She paused. “We apologize for the bumpy landing. It’s not the captain’s fault. It’s not the co-pilot’s fault. I’m afraid it’s the asphalt.”
Laughter rang out in the cabin.
“For your safety, we ask that you remain seated until the plane comes to a complete stop at the gate. Look people, at no time in history has a passenger beaten a plane to the gate. So please, don’t even try. Also, please be careful opening the overhead bins because, as everyone knows, shift happens.”
The pretty blonde flight attendant with the intercom device in her hand locked her gaze and flashed him a brilliant smile.
Rhett smiled back. She was a looker, for certain. And friendly.
He wrapped the cord of his noise-canceling earphones neatly, and packed them away in the zipped case, and placed it inside his Italian leather briefcase. When the overhead speaker finally dinged, granting passengers permission to move freely about the cabin, he raised from his plush first-class seat and stretched his legs. He swung the door open on the overhead stowage bin, retrieved his duffel and moved for the open exit.
“Thank you for flying with us, Mr. Duvall.” The blonde granted him another wide smile.
Rhett nodded in her direction, then smiled his appreciation to the captain standing beside her. “Great flight,” he said before moving out of the plane and onto the jet bridge. Minutes later he stepped into the terminal, surprised at how happy he felt as he took note of the teal carpet with geometric shapes rumored to represent the intersection of the north and south runways seen by air traffic controllers from the airport’s tower at night. That carpet was the first sign he was home.
He hadn’t returned in what…three years? The realization created a pang of guilt in his gut. He never meant for his absence to be so lengthy. It’s just that life and his work… Well, time sometimes got away from him.
Even so, he was good about calling his folks at least a couple of times a month, usually on Sunday nights. Rhett patiently talked to his mom, listened to her fill him in on everything going on in Pacific Bay—from the weather to who was getting married to who was having children. His dad kept him apprised of how the oyster farm was doing. He knew when the larvae tanks were emptied and the tiny seed was planted in the beds. He listened as his father debated the value of tumbling before harvest and for how long. He knew that, in the end, his dad would always dismiss the idea that manually stimulating growth would be the chosen route. “Despite what these so-called scientific experts claim, bottom culturing does the trick sufficiently and grows strong shells, son. That’s always been my take.”
Rhett’s stomach growled. Perhaps he shouldn’t have skipped the in-flight meal. He pulled his cell phone from his jacket pocket and hit the car rental company number he had on speed dial. When a man answered, Rhett cleared his throat. “Yeah, I know it’s late, but I think I’m going to grab a bite before picking up the car. Is that all right?”
“Absolutely, Mr. Duvall. Just call when you’re ready, and we’ll have your rental waiting out at valet parking.”
Rhett thanked him and pocketed his phone, headed through the terminal past security, and made his way to Stanford’s, where he ordered grilled salmon with lemon-chive crème sauce, a side salad topped with bay shrimp, and a glass of bourbon.
Outside the rain-drizzled window, distant lights from across the Columbia River broke through the darkness. The precipitation was no surprise. Portland averaged over a hundred days of rain a year. Often, especially in the spring, barely a day would pass between rains.
“The important thing is the life you live in between rains,” his mother was often known to say.
“Hey, there.” The female voice caught Rhett’s attention. He turned to see the blonde flight attendant smiling back at him. “Mind if I join you?”
He did, but he was too polite to say so. Not that he didn’t enjoy time with a beautiful woman, but tonight he was tired and had a lot on his mind. There were rumors the firm was facing some big changes. He’d weathered restructures and buy-outs before, but business interruptions were never welcome, especially when the rumor mill ramped up and his clients started calling.
Without waiting for a reply, the woman from the plane slid into the chair opposite him. “You travel much?” she asked, waving over the waitress.
“Yeah. Some say too much,” he replied, abandoning his quiet evening to himself.
“I’m Heather.” She held out her hand.
He shook. “Rhett.” He knew from experience that airport romances were often short-lived and on a one-name basis.
She glanced at his ringless-finger. “You married?”
He shook his head, chuckled. “To my work, I suppose.” He didn’t bother telling her he’d been engaged once and that it hadn’t worked out, or that his second long-term relationship had gone south as well.
Her face broke into a smile. “Yeah, I totally get where you’re coming from. I was married. Twice. This flying gig is hard on relationships.”
He suspected from her bold approach that additional factors might have played into her past marital discord. A guess on his part, but he’d seen the type often. In fact, something inside told him he might not have to sleep alone tonight, if he so elected. It was a feeling, not something he’d necessarily act on. He’d grown tired of the hit-and-run relationships a while ago. Besides, he planned to get on the road and drive straight through to Pacific Bay after he finished his dinner.
A waitress appeared at their table and handed Heather a menu.
“Kids?” she asked as she looked it over. She turned to the waitress, “A crab salad please. Dressing on the side.” She glanced at his glass of bourbon. “And what he’s having.”
Again, he shook his head. “Nope. Never had the time for children.”
She straightened the fork on the table. “So, is that what brings you to Portland? Business?”
“Not this time. I’m in Oregon to see family. They live in a tiny tourist town on the coast called Pacific Bay. My dad and mom own an oyster farm, one that has been in our family for three generations.”
“An oyster farm? How interesting. You know what they say about oysters?” She grinned suggestively.
“Yeah, don’t believe everything you read.” He lifted his glass and drained the remaining alcohol before motioning to the bartender that he’d like another.
A young woman entered the restaurant, juggling an unwieldy stroller, one of those double-kind, while trying to keep hold of an active little toddler. She looked near tears with the stress of it all. He immediately felt for her. It couldn’t be easy.
The waitress delivered Heather’s salad.
“My family lives in Florida,” she explained, picking up her fork. “Well, my mom and dad. I have no siblings. My parents are retired.” She drizzled dressing across the plate of chopped lettuce piled with fresh crab meat. “Goodness, this looks delicious. I’ve been flying Midwest routes. I’m afraid you can’t get good seafood in Kansas.” She sighed.
He nodded. Yes, seafood was plentiful in the Pacific Northwest…and delicious. He planned on taking advantage of the fact during his short visit.
“So, tell me more about your family,” she prodded.
Rhett shrugged. “Not too much to tell, really. My sister, Leila…well, she’s married and has three kids.”
“Yeah? What does her husband do?”
“Not much,” he admitted, letting a chuckle escape his lips. “He’s a full-time dreamer. One of those who is always going to hit it big with the next thing. He’s like a moth drawn to light when it comes to those pyramid selling schemes. First, it was essential oils. Then he talked my sister into becoming an online make-up consultant. They’ve sold vitamins, toys, household cleaning products. Wes, that’s my brother-in-law’s name, well…he’s the king of eBay and Etsy accounts, and he swears he makes hundreds a month with his Amazon affiliate account. Funny thing, though…he’s always borrowing from my folks to make rent.”
Heather wrinkled her nose. “Oh, yikes.”
“Yeah.” The waitress delivered his second glass of bourbon. He took it and smiled at her with appreciation. “My brother works with my folks on the oyster farm. He’s a bit of a…well, let’s just say we’re not exactly close. He has a little trouble embracing the concept of growing up.”
“Not like you,” she remarked. “I mean, your position and what you’ve done in life is impressive.”
“Thanks. I like to think that, despite my humble roots, I made something of myself.” He heard pride swell absurdly in his voice and tried to push it away.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the young mother lift two infants from the stroller, expertly nesting one in each arm. This allowed the young toddler to escape her clutch. The little boy ran wildly around the table while his mother attempted in vain to hush him.
Was she…crying?
Rhett wiped the corner of his mouth with the linen napkin, never taking his eyes off the struggling mother. “Uh, Heather. Could you excuse me for a moment?”
His tablemate looked confused as he lifted from his seat at the table. Not bothering to fold his napkin, Rhett tossed it down next to his plate and made his way across the restaurant to the young woman. “You look like you could use some help.” He dropped down and motioned for the little guy to come closer. “Hey, are you a superhero? Because I really like superheroes.”
The little brown-haired toddler stopped cold. “Yup. And I can fly.” To prove his point, he held out both arms in front of his body Superman-style and ran in a circle.
Rhett grinned and looked up at his mother. “Well, I know from experience that superheroes need to eat in order to keep up their superpowers. You up for a cheeseburger, kiddo?”
He assisted the appreciative mother and got the kid settled in his seat. When finished, he leaned over and glanced at her babies in her arms. “Sweet kids.”
“Thank you so much,” she said. “I—well, my flight was delayed, and my car rental office is closed. We were hungry, so I thought we’d catch a bite before I called a cab. It’s a lot.” She gave him a weak smile. “But I got it now. Thank you.”
Rhett pulled his phone and quickly texted. “Look, I have a car waiting. You’re welcome to it.” He told her where the car would be parked.
“Oh, I can’t do that,” she insisted.
“Sure, you can. I’ll call a cab and head to a hotel, then grab another car in the morning. All’s good,” he assured her. As an added measure, he waved over the waitress. “Please add her dinner to my tab.” He turned back to the young mother. “Take care of those little ones.”
“I will,” she said, grateful tears glistening. “I—I don’t know how to thank you.”
Rhett drew a deep breath, pleased that he’d come to her rescue. The effort was small but obviously meant a lot to her. He turned and headed back in the direction of his table, now empty.
He glanced around and located the flight attendant at the bar talking with a guy in a suit. Rhett threw some bills on the table, enough to cover both his meal and his departed dinner mate’s salad, plus that of the young mother with the kiddos. The polite thing might be to walk over and bid Heather goodnight before he left. But she looked far too interested in her new prospect, and he didn’t want to interrupt.
A slight smile pulled at the corner of his lips as he saw her place a manicured hand on the sleeve of the guy’s arm and laugh. She caught him watching. Rhett gave her a gracious nod before downing his drink. Then he shrugged and headed for the door.
2
It was a strange kind of autumn morning in Pacific Bay. Two days earlier, a north wind blew in from Alaska, bringing unseasonal frigid temps and, with it, a heavy marine layer off the coast. Despite the thick fog, Rhett could make out familiar landmarks as he passed the iconic welcome sign at the edge of town.
Pacific Bay was one of those unique communities along the rugged Oregon coastline that beckoned tourists and still provided a small-town feel for those who called the place home. Main Street ran along the edge of the bay filled with fishing boats. Seafood canneries bordered the water’s edge. Gift shops selling souvenirs and T-shirts and restaurants offering steaming bowls of clam chowder and platters of crab legs lined the area.
Homes with stunning views of the coastline dotted the cliffs overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Long beaches stretched for miles, providing joggers and dogwalkers the perfect wide-open stretches of sand with frothy waves creeping onshore. A lighthouse nearly one-hundred-feet tall perched at the westernmost point of the basalt headland surrounded by tidal pools teeming with starfish and bright-colored anemones.
Despite the visually diminished conditions, Rhett saw each of these familiar elements clearly in his mind’s eye as he drove through town.
He searched for the power button that would lower the car window so he could breathe deeply, take in the salty air. It had been far too long since he’d experienced the way the atmosphere carried a pungent smell of fish mixed with pine from the surrounding trees. He loved the aroma—the smell of home.
Up ahead, about a mile, was the turnoff to the eight-mile winding road that circled the outer bay, the route that led to his destination…a brackish backwater inlet lined with tall Douglas firs and native woodland ferns, some the size of a German Shepherd.
