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“Red glass is extremely rare.” Bert paused beside a case displaying several red pieces. “Usually it comes from car taillights or perfume bottles.” He opened a case and took out a piece of glass. “This is fire glass, which was melted before the sea took it over. That’s why it has all those different colors.”
Hunter lifted the piece to the light. Dark green curled through a fusion of red and clear, cloudy glass. If he were a poetic type, he’d make some correlation about how an ordinary piece of glass could become something both colorful and extraordinary after being consumed by fire and then endlessly tossed around by the ocean waves.
“Pretty.” He handed the glass back to Bert.
They looked around for another hour before Aria told Bert she had a few more Bliss Cove secrets to show Hunter. After they got back into her van, she drove to a sprawling Victorian mansion with multiple stories and towers. A wooden sign in the front yard statedBliss Cove Library.
“Bliss Cove has a long history extending back to Native American settlements,” she explained. “But during the Gold Rush, it was officially founded as a shipping and fishing port by John Marcus, a sea captain from Maine. He built this place…” she gestured to the mansion, “…after he got married and lived here until he died in 1899. The property was sold several times, but the new owners always left shortly after moving in because they claimed it was haunted. They heard music coming from the conservatory even though no one was there, footsteps on the stairs, and a strange singing that sounded like a man singing old sea shanties. No one wanted to live here, so eventually, the town bought it and turned it into the library.”
“Is it still haunted?” Hunter peered through the front windshield at the mansion with its wide front porch and arched pediment.
“Of course.” Aria shifted into reverse and backed out of the parking space. “We’ll go in one day when it’s open. People often report seeing the figure of a man pass in front of the window on the third floor, even when the library is closed and no one is there.”
Any other time, Hunter would have scoffed at the idea of a haunted library. But if there were such things as ghosts, and if Captain Marcus was one of them, then the hulking old mansion would be a perfect place for him to hang out and scare people.
“The library has a haunted house every Halloween.” Aria turned down Starfish Avenue, where all the trees and lampposts were illuminated with white lights. “Interestingly, no one has reported seeing or hearing Captain Marcus on Halloween. I guess he considers it his day off.”
She grinned. Her eyes sparkled. An odd tightness gripped Hunter’s chest.
Aria pulled into a parking spot and cut off the engine. He followed her out to the sidewalk. He was beginning to think he’d follow her anywhere. And that he’dlikeit.
Shaking the thought out of his head, he fell into step at her side.
“Have you been to the Mousehole Tavern yet?” She slipped her purse over her shoulder. “Home of Bliss Cove’s famous artichoke soup.”
“No. That guy Grant doesn’t think much of me,” Hunter said. “I did want to try the soup, though. At the Artichoke Festival, I tried fried artichokes, artichoke ice cream, artichoke cupcakes, artichoke burritos, and artichoke hummus. Strangely enough, I couldn’t find a booth to try any artichoke soup.”
Aria laughed. “That’s because Grant only serves the soup at the tavern. He bought the Mousehole a few years ago, and he inherited the secret recipe. He claims it has to be cooked in the same pot, on the same burner on his stove, and then served right away or it loses its flavor. So the tavern is the only place in town where you can have a bowl of artichoke soup.”
She walked off the main street to a cluster of four ramshackle wooden buildings with steep roofs and ivy-covered walls. Light glowed through the windows, and music drifted on the air.
“Welcome to the Mousehole.” Aria pulled open the door of the main building and stepped inside. “This used to be a stagecoach stop until about 1865, I think. Then it changed owners over the years until Grant bought it and moved into the house in the back. There’s also a cottage. This is the restaurant and bar, and that fourth building is kind of a free-for-all space that’s been used for everything from ballet classes to birthday parties.”
She led him through the maze of tables. “Oh, there’s the singing fish I told you about. I think Grant keeps it around partly to annoy Rory.”
She indicated the mounted plastic fish behind the bar, where Grant was helping customers. Aria waved and gestured to a table by the window. “Can you bring us a couple of soups please, Grant?”
He nodded, slanting a narrow glance at Hunter. The scattered wooden tables were covered in red-and-white checked cloths and each held a single glowing lantern. The chairs and barstools were filled with locals drinking and talking. Weathered wooden rafters crossed the high roof, and a massive stone fireplace dominated one end of the room.
Despite Grant’s wariness of him, Hunter knew businesses. Though he’d reviewed the Oceanview plans a hundred times over, he suspected that no matter what kind of high-end bar or restaurant opened up there, it would never replace this local hangout.
Aria left for a moment and returned with a couple of beers and a basket of hot sourdough bread. “I worked here for a summer when I was in college.”
Setting the basket between them, she took her seat again. “A tourist from LA offered me five hundred dollars for the artichoke soup recipe.”
“Were you tempted?”
“No, but even if I was, I couldn’t have gotten it for him.” She tilted her head toward the bar, causing her hair to slide over her shoulder. “Everyone who’s owned this bar over the years claims the recipe isn’t written down anywhere. It’s passed in secret from owner to owner. Now Grant is the only one who knows it, and he keeps it locked in the vault of his brain. The only thing anyone knows for sure is that it contains artichokes.”
Her mouth curved with a smile, and her blue eyes shone in the light from the glowing lantern. Tearing his gaze from hers, Hunter took a piece of bread. The tightness in his chest intensified, as if he were trying to contain something that wanted to get out.
Know your opponent.
The strategy was supposed to make it easier to win the battle. But the more he learned about Aria, the less he wanted to negotiate. He just wanted to know evenmoreabout her. It was like slowly uncovering a treasure—you couldn’t wait to see the whole thing.
“Here you go.” Grant appeared with two wooden bowls filled with soup, which he plunked in front of them before narrowing his eyes at Hunter again. “Anything else?”
“This is great, thanks, Grant,” Aria said.
