Nick UnCaged: Sanctuary, Book Four Page 6

  “Nice to meet you, Kate. I saw you at Franco’s last night, didn’t I?” Bree asked. “Checking out the competition?”

  “Not exactly.” Kate chuckled. “Just enjoying a night off. Sometimes, it’s nice to eat a meal made by someone else.”

  “I’m not much of a cook myself, so that’s something I can fully appreciate.” Bree looked around the space, filled with gleaming appliances and gadgetry.

  Kate and Sam were as passionate about their kitchen space as Cage was with his tech.

  “This kitchen is amazing.”

  “It really is,” Kate agreed. “I love working here.”

  “Do you run the entire kitchen yourself?”

  “Oh, no. It’s a team effort.”

  A timer dinged, and Kate excused herself. Cage had the distinct impression that Bree would have liked to talk more with Kate, but they were on a schedule.

  “She seems really nice.”

  “Kate’s awesome,” he agreed. “And a hell of a cook.”

  “Is she former military?”

  “No.”

  He steered Bree toward the new greenhouses behind the kitchen, concluding the indoor portion of the tour. He’d stayed away from the private living areas and the war room. Allowing her to see their setup would only invite more questions and add unnecessary fuel to claims that they were more than they appeared. They were, but that was beside the point.

  “Our greenhouses are a work in progress, as you can see. Eventually, we hope to expand, so we can grow a significant portion of our own produce.”

  She took in the massive hexagonal space, turning around in a full three-hundred-and-sixty-degree circle. “What are all those pipes for?”

  “Hybrid hydroponic system,” Mad Dog answered, appearing behind them, right on cue. “We supplement the soil with collected rainwater and nutrient rich water from the stock pond and then recycle it back.”

  “Bree, this is Chris. He designed these greenhouses.”

  “I’m impressed. This is some cutting-edge stuff.”

  Mad Dog beamed proudly as Cage kept them moving forward, leading Bree outside. Off to the right, Justin, one of Sanctuary’s first residents after officially opening its doors, had the dogs in a large, fenced-in area.

  “What’s going on over there?” Bree asked.

  “Therapy dog training. The dogs are rescued strays, by the way.”

  Bree hummed softly. Cage was careful to keep their distance from the enclosure, using the training as an excuse. While Justin was great with the dogs, he wasn’t keen on socialization, though he was considerably better than he had been when he first arrived.

  They strolled along the tree line, where Cage pointed out the trails used for walking, horseback riding, and in the winter, snowmobiling.

  Heff appeared, crossing the path ahead of them on his horse with another in tow and offering a friendly wave.

  “You have horses too?” Bree asked, her eyes bright.

  “We don’t, but we have a partnership with a local hippotherapy place and plenty of trails to explore.”

  They continued to the lake and the newly reconstructed dock. Cage suggested they sit in the shade of the gazebo while Bree asked questions about the program. He patiently answered them all, even the personal questions she slipped in occasionally.

  “I have to ask ... what’s a lake doing in the middle of the mountains?”

  Cage laughed. “I asked the same question. The area is rich with mountain springs, some created as far back as the Ice Age.”

  “Glacial water, huh? I can see where this place could be very therapeutic,” she continued. “Plenty of open space, very tranquil and in sync with nature. I imagine property like this is worth a fortune. How did you find such a gem?”

  “It was donated by the family,” he said carefully.

  “Patriotic bequeathal?”

  “Something like that.”

  Matt Winston’s personal life wasn’t up for discussion. Property and tax information was a matter of public record. If she wanted to, she could trace the ownership easily enough.

  “So, what is it you do here, Nick?”

  “Whatever needs to be done,” he answered honestly. “But I guess if you have to put a label on it, you could say I’m the IT guy.”

  “You don’t look like an IT guy,” she said, reaching for his hand.

  He went still when she lightly ran her fingers over the calluses and unknowingly fired off a chain reaction of sensation in other places.

  “And these are definitely not the hands of a computer geek.”

  “Like I said, I do whatever needs to be done,” he replied, glad his voice remained even.

  She removed her fingers and jotted something down in her notebook, closing it back up before he could see what she had written.

  “This place was in rough shape when we started.”

  “You’re one of the owners then?”

  It felt weird to think of himself as an owner even though, on paper, he was. Church had made him, Smoke, Doc, Heff, and Mad Dog equal financial partners, but the property and everything on it was Church’s family legacy.

  “It’s a partnership,” he confirmed.

  “You’re all military?”

  He nodded.

  “Did you serve together?”

  “Not as a unit, no, but we all served with Matt at one time or another. Sanctuary is his baby. The rest of us are just here to help make it a reality.”

  “Explain to me what that dream is.”

  “You’ve read the mission statement.”

  “I have,” she agreed, opening her notebook again. “But I want to hear it in your words.”

  He thought about that for a minute before answering, “Serving this country is an honor and a privilege, but it does change the way you see things. Military life is much different than civilian life. It’s highly structured with a clearly defined chain of command. You’re no longer an individual but part of a team. Returning to civilian life is an adjustment and not always an easy one. Sanctuary helps with the transition by providing a bridge between military and civilian life. Guests can acclimate back into civilian society at their own pace, surrounded and supported by those who’ve been where they are.”

  Scribble, scribble. “What about those who suffer from PTSD?” she asked.

  “PTSD covers a wide spectrum; however, we’re not equipped or qualified to handle severe cases. Applicants go through a rigorous screening process. Those who require care and services beyond what we provide are referred elsewhere.”

  “So, basically, you’re telling me that Sanctuary does not pose a danger to the local community?”

  Cage wondered if she’d already talked to some of the townspeople. “Exactly. Sanctuary is exactly what it sounds like—a refuge. Nothing more, nothing less.”

  She was quiet for a few minutes, staring out at the water, and then she laughed softly. “You’re not at all what I pictured.”

  “Oh? What did you picture?”

  “A group of wizened, older guys, like the kind who hang around the VFW and hand out poppies on Veterans Day.”

  “That’s the thing about stereotypes and preconceived notions. They’re rarely accurate.” He paused and then admitted, “When I heard a reporter was coming to do an interview, I had an image of Ed Asner in my head. Or Candice Bergan.”

  She grinned. “Ed Asner? Just how old are you?”

  He shrugged. “What can I say? I grew up on classic TV reruns.”

  “Me, too. Though I’m more of a Perry Mason fan myself.”

  “You have excellent taste.”

  She asked a few more questions, scratched into her notebook, and then put it away. He took that to mean she was ready to move on, and he felt a pang of disappointment. The afternoon had passed too quickly.

  They headed back to the main building, where the bright red convertible was parked.

  “You’ve upgraded since the last time I saw you,” he commented, opening the driver’s door for her.


  “That I have. Much easier to avoid potholes now.” She grinned. “Thank you, Nick. I’m impressed with everything you’re doing here. You’re a wonderful tour guide.”

  “Thanks. And you’re welcome.”

  “I’d love to talk to some of the guests, too, and get their perspective. It can be completely anonymous.”

  “I can talk to Matt, see what he says.”

  “That would be great. Thanks.”

  The engine came to life with a low, rumbling purr. After a moment’s hesitation, she turned to him and asked, “Would you be interested in meeting me for coffee or dinner or something?”

  He blinked slowly, silently pondering her motives. He might be on the shy side when it came to women, but he wasn’t stupid. “I suppose that depends on the why of it. Are you looking for more information for your article?”

  “If I say yes, will you say no?”

  Would he? He’d enjoyed the afternoon and her company. The questions she’d asked were intelligent and not overly intrusive, but that might not be the case in another setting, especially after having established a baseline rapport. Still, he was willing to risk it, if for no other reason than he wanted to spend more time with her.

  “Not necessarily.”

  She grinned, and once again, he felt it in his chest. “Good, because I’d like to know more.”

  More about him specifically? Or more about Sanctuary?

  She reached into her bag and pulled out a business card. “This is my number. Think about it, okay?”

  He accepted the card. “I will.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Bree

  Bree felt good about how the afternoon had gone. Not only had she gotten a tour around Sanctuary, but she’d also had the full, personalized attention of Nick as well. He was a study in contrasts, that one. Incredibly handsome and physically fit yet a self-professed geek. Warm and friendly with an easy, confident smile yet with a borderline shyness she found particularly appealing. Most unexpected was how at ease she’d felt around him, as if they’d known each other for longer than a few hours.

  As she drove down the winding mountain road back toward town, she felt only a slight pang of guilt for baiting him as she had.

  Of course, the nice guy routine could all be an act. As much as the men of Sanctuary might try to come across as the guys next door, they were former military who, based on the men she’d seen both at the restaurant and the facility, were staying fit and battle-ready. It wasn’t a stretch to imagine they kept up other skills, too.

  That was what had prompted her to ask the pointed questions she had about the mental health of those they served. Having a cell of lethally trained warriors nearby could be either unnerving or comforting, depending on perspective.

  Personally, she found it exciting.

  The curtains moved when Bree pulled into the driveway, suggesting Martha had been watching for her return. The critical way she eyed Bree when she entered the B & B was even more telling. Whether it was out of concern or a desire to get the scoop, she wasn’t sure. Perhaps it was a bit of both.

  “Did everything go all right?” Martha asked anxiously.

  “Yes, it went well,” Bree told her honestly. “They were very polite and accommodating.”

  Martha uttered a soft, “Hmmph.”

  Bree had to hide her smile.

  “Do you have time for some questions now?” Bree asked.

  “I’m expected at the fire hall.”

  “Oh?”

  “The Ladies Auxiliary gathers several times a week to make meals for our community outreach program—meals for shut-ins, the elderly, that sort of thing,” Martha explained, her eyes holding a calculating gleam that belied the innocence of her tone. “Why don’t you come with me? I’m sure they’d love to meet you.”

  Bree pictured a room full of Marthas angling for inside information. How could she possibly pass that up?

  “Sure, I’d like that. Just give me a few minutes to freshen up, and I’ll be ready to go.”

  They opted to walk; the fire hall wasn’t far. Several women were already there when they arrived. Judging by the instant cease in conversation, Bree guessed she was the primary topic.

  “Ladies, this is Gabriella De Rossi, the reporter I was telling you about,” Martha announced and then proceeded to introduce each of the women there.

  One of them Bree recognized as the librarian from earlier that morning.

  “Bree, please.”

  “You’ve already met Agnes Miller,” Martha said, confirming that these women were in fact key players in the Sumneyville gossip vine. “That’s Mona Delvecchio, Edith and Lydia Schaeffer, and Winona Mitchell.”

  Bree nodded and greeted each of them in turn. They were older than Martha—the median age probably around seventy or so. Unlike the men of Sanctuary, the women of the Ladies Auxiliary were exactly as Bree had pictured them.

  All were actively involved in meal prep and wearing aprons that covered them neck to knees. Winona was adding spices to rings of sausage in roasting pans. Agnes was kneading dough on a floured surface. Edith and Lydia, who appeared to be identical twins, were expertly peeling and chopping a colorful array of vegetables that looked as if they’d come straight from a farm.

  The only exception was the woman introduced as Mona, who sat, perched on a stool in the corner, and didn’t actually appear to be doing anything. She reminded Bree of a queen presiding over her court.

  “Bree is interested in learning about Sumneyville for her article,” Martha said.

  “I thought you said she was investigating Sanctuary,” said one of the twins.

  Again with the investigating. Why exactly did the locals believe Sanctuary warranted an investigation?

  Bree picked up the same wary vibe from the others as she had from Martha whenever the subject arose.

  “There’s never just one angle to a story,” Bree said carefully, “and I like to get the whole picture.”

  Her guess paid off.

  They nodded, murmuring variations of, “Yes, absolutely.”

  “You were up there today, weren’t you?” asked Mona.

  Bree glanced at Martha, who avoided her gaze. “Yes, I was.”

  “And what did you think?”

  “It was very scenic.” In more ways than one.

  “Well, it was quite the popular resort at one time,” commented Edith. At least, Bree thought it was Edith. She and Lydia had changed places, and it was difficult to tell them apart.

  “What happened to the resort?”

  “A horrible fire. We were quite surprised Matthew wanted to return at all.”

  The name was instantly familiar. “Matthew? Matt Winston?”

  “Yes, his family owned and operated the place for years before they ...” Winona said before she lowered her head and made the sign of the cross. “So tragic, to lose his entire family like that.”

  Before Bree could ask more about that, Mona asked, “Did they actually show you around?”

  “They gave me a tour of the facilities and the grounds, yes.”

  “I’m sure they didn’t show her everything,” Agnes murmured. “Only what they wanted her to see.”

  “Did you see Kate while you were there?” asked Lydia with interest.

  Unsure if it was the same Kate she’d met, Bree said, “I did speak with a woman named Kate, yes. She runs the kitchen.”

  “That would be our Kate,” Edith said with a nod. “Such a sweet girl. She used to cook with us before she took up with them. And of course, she was always such a help with her father’s store. Tell me, does she look okay?”

  “She’s fine,” snapped Agnes before Bree could answer, flashing Edith a warning look. “Kate made her choice.”

  “Enough!” Mona sharply commanded.

  They obediently clamped their lips shut, though a few angry glances were cast about. Bree had the feeling much more would have been said if she weren’t there, which was a shame because it sounded like a very in
teresting story. She made a mental note to pursue that at another time—when Agnes and Mona weren’t present.

  “So, tell me about what you’re doing here,” Bree said brightly, changing the subject. “Ms. McGillicuddy tells me the Ladies Auxiliary gets together several times a week to prepare meals for the community.”

  The tension eased. The women were only too happy to talk about that. They told her about their local Meals on Wheels program and the public dinners and fundraisers they hosted often. Bree praised them for their compassion and their strong sense of community, soothing a few ruffled feathers and hopefully gathering a few allies in the process.

  She stayed a while longer and then thanked them for their time and made her excuses, saying she had work to do. With a takeout box in hand, Bree left the kitchen, her mind swimming with questions.

  Lost in her thoughts, she went through a different door than the one she’d come in with Martha. Instead of exiting into the parking lot at the back of the building, she walked into a large hall ... and smack dab into the same police officer she’d bumped into earlier.

  “We really need to stop meeting like this,” he teased, reaching out to steady her.

  “I need to pay more attention to where I’m going.”

  “No argument there.”

  Officer Petraski smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Regardless, he was another potentially excellent source of information, and she’d be a fool to squander the opportunity.

  She returned his smile with one of her own, openly taking in his jeans and Sumneyville Bearcats T-shirt. “Are you off duty, Officer?”

  “I am. I’m just here to get some dinner from the ladies and grab a beer or two.”

  She held up her takeout box. “That sounds like a great idea. Mind if I join you, Officer?”

  His eyes widened slightly, as if surprised she’d asked. He hesitated briefly before nodding. “Sure. Why not?”

  Chapter Twelve

  Bree

  A bar took up a good section of the wall to the left, and at least half a dozen barstools were occupied. She took her takeout box to a table against the far wall, the one most amenable to a private conversation, and waited for Officer Petraski to return with a similar box.