Last Chance Harbor Read Online Free

She’d always been willing to take a risk. Even though others saw her as nothing more than the dependable, boring schoolteacher, Julianne Dickinson knew better. That’s what made it a dream come true for her.
    When she came to the intersection at Main Street and Cape May, she took a left toward the ocean. Her eyes drifted to the rows of houses along the street. She noticed the tricycles in the driveways, the toys littering the yards, indications there were plenty of young families sprouting up. In her mind it made for the perfect place to start a new school. Maybe one day the town would flourish enough so they could build a middle school for these same eager students.
    Looking at the Craftsman bungalows on either side of the street, she couldn’t wait to find her place and move here. Her lease on the house she rented in Santa Cruz was up at the end of May. Perfect timing translated to good karma. She wanted to be settled here by the end of the school year. That’s why she’d already given the landlord her notice. She’d already started cleaning out closets, tossing away old clothes she hadn’t had on since college, and boxing up things she didn’t use every day.
    The things she couldn’t part with though were what she considered her thrift store finds. The pieces she called her trash to treasures. The ones she recycled for cash that provided her with a much-needed second income—like the dining chairs she’d found sitting outside a dumpster. All they’d needed was a little TLC. She’d cleaned them up, brushed on a new coat of stain, added new fabric to the seats—a cute apple-red material she’d had on hand—and sold them for a tidy sum. Whatever profit she made went into her “house fund.” After all, a teacher had to make ends meet in creative, sometimes very distinctive ways.
    Growing up the way she had with her dad, a carpenter, she’d picked up a few skills over the years. Enough that she could spot a quality piece worth fixing up. In fact, she’d managed to save enough to buy a house. And now, with a better paying job in her future, she’d take the time to find the right house, plunk down her hard-earned savings on one where she could let her imagination and sense of style run wild.
    No more rentals for Julianne Dickinson. She was more than ready to become a property owner.
    Yes, she was making plans—big ones—starting over in this little town with new people, she looked forward to beginning her thirtieth year with a change of scenery.
    She pulled her lime-green Volkswagen van to the curb behind a row of pickup trucks and heard the sounds of a construction crew. Jackhammers blasted concrete. Drills whirled while sledge hammers met up with drywall and wood.
    Music to her ears, she thought now, as she closed the door on the car and stood at the curb staring at the renovation—the sooner the ugly duckling phase was behind them, the sooner the gorgeous swan could emerge. Julianne understood that, understood transformations.
    Stepping through the main entrance, ever mindful of the school’s long history, she took the time to consider how many students had walked through these same doors. Her breath hitched at the realization of the huge job she’d taken on.
    Bawdy language sailed down the hallway and mingled with eardrum-busting grunge rock. Conversations flew back and forth about how to get rid of a block of concrete. The men were in the process of knocking down walls and destroying the floors. To her, they seemed to be having the time of their lives. Much like her students did at recess.
    She went in search of Logan and found him in the auditorium along with several of his crewmembers. But as she stood there looking around at the powder of dust coating what had once been a large stage, she couldn’t help but marvel at what a tremendous space it was. She pictured the amphitheater crammed to capacity. Parents and teachers would come to watch the cast of A Christmas Carol recite their lines. Going