Chapter One
Conundrum:a paradoxical, insoluble, or difficult problem; a dilemma.
Present Day
The tiny fishing village of Harmony, Maine was well known for two things: it's fresh Maine Lobster, caught right off her coast, and it's exquisite sunsets, of which many a sonnet had been based. Tourists flocked from all parts of the world from late spring to early autumn to enjoy an early evening supper at one of the several seafood restaurants that sat on the bay and pier, and to watch, mesmerized, as the sun made it's final descent into the gentle waves.
The sunset on that particular late June night was nothing short of spectacular, even by Harmony standards. Hues of crimson, burnt orange, pale violet painted the sky, all merging together as twilight slowly crept in. From the southeast, cumulonimbus clouds were building, coming closer, adding a touch of darkness to an otherwise stunning evening.
Theresa Lopez-Fitzgerald saw none of this, which was unfortunate, as she loved to watch a big storm brewing. She knew all about weather, could spend hours studying cloud forms and tide levels and barometric readings. She had actually considered studying meteorology as her major in college, but had decided against it in favor of a double major in business and hospitality.
Which brings us to why Theresa was missing the beauty of the thunderstorm building at sea. She was sitting on a couch in the Book Café, sipping a glass of peach ice tea, poring over legal documents pertaining to her venture into the Bed and Breakfast industry and awaiting the arrival of her "real estate agent".
She was moments away from making her first purchase as a businesswoman. After nearly a year of pondering what she was going to do after college, she had woken up one morning and realized that she wanted to run her own Bed and Breakfast. The idea nagged at her for a few days before she came to the conclusion, this is it! This is what I am meant to do with my life!
Where she wanted to open it, she wasn't sure, but had spent months researching every nook and cranny of the industry; costs, assets, needs, everything down as to what type of linens to put on the beds and what type of coffee to stock in the cupboards. Those months of research led to her writing her Senior thesis on the topic, and her Senior thesis led to her writing a business proposal for (potential) interested investors.
The location was her only problem. She had chosen to attend a small liberal arts college in Taos, New Mexico, but she wasn't so sure that was where she wanted to make her permanent home. She loved the cool summer nights and the Christmas breaks spent skiing. She adored the laid back culture, the warm people, the ethnic cooking, the southwest art and architecture…she loved everything and everyone in Taos.
But it wasn't Harmony.
In the midst of her Junior year at the College of the Rocky Mountains, she started to have pangs of homesickness. The sultry sea air was beckoning her, slowly at first, and then, in a torrent of long forgotten memories, her childhood began rushing back…
Late night strolls on the boardwalk, eating funnel cakes and drinking pink lemonade…
The first dip in the ocean at the start of summer, running alongside her best friend, Whitney, full speed ahead, into the breaking waves, shrieking as the icy water splashed over them, sending them into hysterics as they dashed back out for the warmth of the sand…
The indescribable aroma of cotton candy, freshly dipped candied apples, and sweet kettle corn, blending together, it's own unique scent, wafting over the park on Founder's Day…
Warm mugs of spiced apple cider warming her chilly hands as she and her brothers huddled together on the front porch, watching the first November snow lightly powder the earth…
Late nights after Christmas Eve Mass, curled up next to her brother Luis on the old fraying couch, the dying embers in the fireplace flickering as Mama recited to them old Spanish Christmas fables passed down to her from her own Mama…
Harmony was home. After years of denying the simplistic joys of her youth, the small town charms were calling her back…
And she couldn't resist.
Two months before she was to graduate, Theresa started calling up old contacts in Harmony, requesting information on the current real estate market. It was Grace Bennett, an old friend of the family (and the owner of Harmony's most lauded Bed and Breakfast) who sent Theresa the information on 162 Tidal Cove. As Theresa read over the letter and accompanying flier, excitement started to build in her.
She had found it.
162 Tidal Cove was a two-story Cape Cod style home. Built in 1856, it had four bedrooms, three baths, and a wrap around porch, and it was exactly what she had imagined her Bed and Breakfast to look like. The home was nestled on a wooded stretch of beach, overlooking the Atlantic, with a planked walkway that took you past the pine trees, beyond the sand dunes, straight to the oceanfront. It also had not one, but two kitchens (one with an adorable breakfast nook), a cozy den with floor to ceiling book shelves and stone fireplace, and a dining room which, in the photo, looked both impressive yet homey.
Her favorite feature by far, the one that kept drawing her in as she debated each house that had been sent her way, was a widow's walk that could be reached only from the master bedroom. It faced the ocean, and Theresa couldn't shake the image of herself perched up there at the start of a summer storm, watching the waves crash into the breakers, lightening crackling over the ocean.
Of course, she wasn't without trepidation. Her main concern, after reading through the information Mrs. Bennett had provided, was a short sentence towards the end of the description of the house. The flier promised that the house was "a quaint, cozy, fix-me-upper", which, reading between the lines, Theresa could only assume that a major makeover was in order.
But, Theresa wasn't going to let major renovations stand in her way. After serious deliberation, Theresa decided to call the man selling the house, a Mr. Nicholas Foxworth, and see about the asking price.
She was surprised when a young man answered the phone.
"Fox here," was his way of greeting. Theresa had almost burst into giggles, because he sounded so… silly, not at all what she was expecting.
She went on to introduce herself, to explain her situation and ideas, and to ask about the cost of the home. Mr. Foxworth was very accommodating at answering her questions, and seemed almost, well, I flirtatious /i in conversation.
When she finally brought up the cost of the home, she about fell out of her chair at his response.
It was almost like she was meant to have the house at 162 Tidal Cove. The price Mr. Foxworth quoted her was more than generous; it was practically a steal! She figured, at the price that she was quoted, that the house had a bit more work than a "fix-me-upper" would require, but who was she to complain? After all, one should never kick a gift horse in the mouth.
After that first conversation, everything started to fall into place. Mrs. Bennett put Theresa into contact with the investor who had helped her open her own Bed and Breakfast, Mr. Walton Updike. Mr. Updike liked the business proposal Theresa sent his way, and little negotiations were needed between the two.
And then there was Mr. Nicholas Foxworth. Over the past few months, she had started to look forward to their weekly chats. He had promised her that the house was not "a heap of junk" as she assumed, but rather, a piece of property that he bought as an investment that he really had no use for.
With each conversation, Theresa found herself enjoying Mr. Foxworth's laughter and banter more and more, and soon she was anticipating their first personal encounter as much as she was her return to Harmony. In Mr. Foxworth, Theresa had found a confidante and supporter. Talking with him, her nervousness about returning home and starting her own business slowly began to eke away. In fact, her last week in New Mexico was one of anticipation and excitement as she packed up her belongings and prepared to turn the page on her current life to begin yet a new chapter.
On the phone, Mr. Foxworth sounded warm and unassuming. His voice was one of humor, and held the slightest bit of an accent that suggested an upbringing in old New England money.
Theresa was glad that Mr. Foxworth seemed on the level. Harmony had changed quite a bit since she left, and she was grateful for the helping hand he was extending.
In the years that she had been gone, her Mama had left Harmony to return to her native Spain. Her younger brother, Miguel, had married his high school sweetheart, Charity, and they had moved to Boston to attend college. Her childhood best friend Whitney Russell had become engaged to Chad Harris, and they were planning on an early fall wedding. Her older brother, Luis, had married Sheridan Crane…
And that's where the demons of her past started to haunt her.
In New Mexico, about a year after she arrived, Theresa had started to see a psychologist. She wasn't crazy or insane or having strange hallucinations or anything of the sort. She was, however, depressed. In the span of a year, she had fallen in love, been loved in return, had her heart basically stomped on, and moved cross-country to start a new life. She was twenty years old and had no clue as to whom she was or where she was going.
She had a lot on her plate.
Slowly, painfully, she had been able to come to terms with Ethan Crane and the misery he had caused her. On occasion, though, she still thought of him, but it was more of a fleeting thought, a whisper in the wind.
The last thing she had heard about him was that he and his wife had moved to Las Angeles. Whitney had told her that Ethan had been named the CEO of Crane Industry's West Coast endeavors and was living the "high life" somewhere in Beverly Hills.
Which made the decision to return home to Harmony all the easier. Without Ethan there, she would be able to grow and prosper, and not come face to face with what could have been all of the time…
Theresa set the papers she was studying down on the table in front of her, rubbing her eyes as she picked up her peach tea. She was growing tired of all of the documents and paperwork regarding her Bed and Breakfast; she was ready to see her house and get started on the more "exciting" part of the business.
The door chimes to the Book Café jingled, and Theresa looked up to see who was coming in. Taking in his tousled blonde hair and casual dress of faded jeans, wrinkled white button down, and flip flops, she was about to dismiss him as just another person about town. But she caught sight of his brief case, and suddenly, she knew.
It was Mr. Foxworth.
He barely glanced around the room before catching her eye. His face lit up as he strode towards her, sending out a vibe that could only be described as electric.
"Theresa? Theresa Lopez-Fitzgerald?"
He didn't bother to wait for her response. He plopped down next to her on the couch, set his briefcase on the floor, stuck out his hand.
Timidly, Theresa held out her hand for him to grasp.
"Mr. Foxworth?"
He shook off her formal greeting with a wave of his hand.
"Please, call me Fox."
He was everything that Theresa had imagined. Cool and collected, refined yet enigmatic.
"So…Fox. Can I see my house?"
Fox didn't reply. He bent down to his brief case, shuffled about in it.
"Here."
He took her hand, turned it over, and placed a gleaming silver key in her palm. Theresa's heart nearly skipped a beat when she felt the cool metal against her skin.
She had promised herself, almost five years ago on a cold Christmas morning, that she was going to leave Harmony for good.
The only way she would ever return was if she had made something of herself.
Tonight, sitting next to Nicholas Foxworth, her fingers clasping that silver key he had given to her, she came to a realization.
She had made something of herself.
And there was no turning back.