Second Chances: A Romance Writers of America Collection (Stark World 2.50)

I lowered my hand. "It's okay, Gramps. Nate's an old friend."

Gramps crossed his arms over his chest and scrutinized us. Other volunteers began gathering up the broken window screens.

"Let's leave them to talk." Wendy nudged Gramps.

"See you inside," Gramps said.

"Yes, sir," Nate replied.

After they left, I said, "I'm so--"

Nate pressed his finger to my lips. "Too many people around."

My lips tingled. I glanced at the men setting up ladders and the group collecting the screens. "Okay."

Nate faced the house and squared his shoulders. "Let's see if the squatters found our secret room."

Our secret room. But I had only been there once. I slipped my arm through his. We mounted the white porch steps together. Nate paused and patted the railing before striding to the front door and crossing the threshold. In the foyer, his shoulders sagged as he exhaled a long breath. Thieves had stripped away the brass and etched glass wall sconces, leaving exposed wires. I blinked at the wall where the door to the library had been. "It's gone."

"No." Nate swiped his forearm across his eyes. "It's concealed. When you were here, the library door was open, so you didn't notice."

"Great. How many secret rooms are in this place?"

"Just two that I know of."

I blocked him with my hand. "Don't help me. I can do this." I studied the floor-to-ceiling wallpaper. The silver-blue damask contained a repeated cream floral design. I closed my eyes and filtered out the volunteers' voices, the sharp scent of wet paint as cans were opened, and the thoo-ump, thoo-ump, thoo-ump of a nail gun. I am Haylee Birch, a member of the mermaid club. Show me the way in.

Nothing.

I sensed Nate watching me. I pushed up my sleeves. "I am Sailor Saint James, a member of the mermaid club. Show me the way in."

A salty sea breeze gusted through the open front door. Opening my eyes, I noticed the library wall had once held two sconces, about two-and-a-half feet apart, while the opposing wall had only one. Stepping closer, I searched the wallpaper for a seam. Once I found it, I followed it to a discolored area the width of two fingers and pressed. The hidden door released with a satisfying click.

Nate beamed. "Good job."

"Thanks." I gripped the edge of the door with my fingertips and pulled it toward me. Mustiness assaulted my nose.

"Wait." Nate hunched so we were eye to eye. "I stole the photos. You walked into the library before I could shelve the magazines. I panicked and hid. I never meant for you to find them."

I stepped back. "Why steal my photos?"

"I did a computer search for Sailor Saint James. I was afraid you were in the Witness Protection Program or something. I found the magazine references."

"And you thought--"

"If I could find them, anyone could find them. You wanted to lie low. So I removed them."

I broke eye contact. "What else did your search reveal?"

Nate clasped my hand, sending tingles up my arm. "I'm so sorry about your father. I had no idea he'd ..."

"Thanks." I laced my fingers through his.

Nate squeezed my hand then angled his head toward the hidden room. "Ready?"

"Yes." I reached the bookcase first and pressed the side panel. It swung upon slowly, like a sail searching for the wind. Colored light dappled the beanbag chairs and faded floral rug. A thrill rushed my veins. "She's--"

"Still here." Nate pulled me into the secret chamber. I followed a shaft of light to the high circular window. A cobweb clung to the metal edge, and dust had collected on the bright glass, but the mermaid and dolphins had escaped the vandals.