Author Spotlight: Kate Berberich

Sophie ambled back toward the town hall with her Margaret’s Maps tour guide vest folded over her arm. A town crew touched up the white paint on the bandstand, draping red, white, and blue bunting along the railing. Shopkeepers made final adjustments to their window displays—piles of adorable plush otter toys, new editions of the town’s guidebook, and enticing bins of colorful fresh saltwater taffy. Regency Bay’s roots as a posh resort town went back over a century. It occupied that sweet spot, just far enough from San Francisco to attract visitors looking for a quiet seaside experience, but close enough to the major transportation hub.

Damn, I wish I had coffee. With or without a side order of handsome photographer. I’ve got a pile of crap on my desk from that real estate developer, the Fourth of July plans to finalize, and I need to check the tour schedule for tomorrow…

Wilfred, or Wilf to a select few including Sophie, chatted with Deputy Bonnie as Sophie pushed through the salt-stained double doors. Balding, wearing wire framed glasses that slipped down his nose, Wilf was the town clerk and had been for as long as anyone could remember. His vast paunch testified to his fondness for the delights of the local sweet shops.

“You have two messages from that real estate fellow and one complaint from a disgruntled litter bug.”

Wilf occupied a large desk organized with labeled plastic trays and file folders. The space to the left of his keyboard was clear except for a legal pad and pen. A desk for the deputy on duty, in this case, Bonnie, dominated the other half of the room. An open box of taffy and a voodoo doll of a man in a business suit vied for space with the standard computer monitor, a second for the traffic and safety cameras, and since it was Monday, a single travel cup.

Sophie took the three little pink slips and dropped them into the paper recycling bin next to Wilf’s workstation. Her gaze drifted to her favorite thing about town hall—the series of framed photos depicting more than a century of beach goers and boardwalk strollers. The one from around 1900 fascinated her as a child. Her mom had explained that no, those ladies in long skirts and stiff shirtwaists weren’t in costume—that’s how people dressed for the beach back then.

Bonnie perched on the corner of the desk, ignoring Wilf’s raised eyebrow. “Now that you’ve taken care of business, tell us all about the hottie.”

“Nothing to tell. He’s a summer guy taking pictures for some film project.”

“But he’s hot! And he picks up trash other people fling around.”

“And he’s a summer guy. As in, leaving in a few weeks.”

“As in, here for a few weeks.”

Wilf leaned back in his wooden desk chair, which creaked alarmingly, and folded his hands on his ample stomach. “A lot can happen in a few weeks.”

“Yeah, especially during tourist season. I don’t have time to fool around with a summer guy.”

Bonnie snapped her gum and blew a frizzy light brown curl out of her face. “You could do with a bit of fooling around, honey.”

Sophie leveled a glare at Bonnie. “Mayor. Responsibilities.”

“Pretty young lady. Summer,” Wilf retorted. “You’ve hardly dated in all the time I’ve known you. Which, in case you’ve somehow forgotten, is your entire life.”

“For very good reasons.”

Wilf pursed his lips. “No one is asking you to select china patterns with this—or any other—young man. Just spend a little time together and see what happens.”

She stooped and kissed the top of his bald head. “You old charmer. The last thing I need on my plate is a broken heart.”

Bonnie blew a sticky pink bubble, which promptly popped. “Girl, you take things too seriously. There is nothing wrong with a little adult recreation. It doesn’t have to be about forever.”

“Uh-huh. I’ll remind you of that come September when you’re weeping into your third margarita because what’s-his-face went back to Massachusetts.”

“Finn. His name is Finn. He’s a serious researcher and Regency Bay is a unique biological community. Whatever that means. He’s not going anywhere.”

Sophie waved a hand at the pair of them. “I’ll be in my office hiding from real estate developers and litter bugs.”

“And hot photographers?”