Bear with me...we need a little character development...

Debbie McPhee, sneaky real estate agent and undercover town gossip, meet Cass, a new breed of urban man-eating barracuda the likes of O'Connell Creek has never seen.

I promise, it'll get steamier. Or I'll try anyway!

Tune in tomorrow. It's worth it, I promise.

***

Cass kept humming as she looked around, taking in the small community she now called home. There wasn't much to this place, she thought to herself – just a few stores, a library, a couple of churches, the odd cafe – but that's what she wanted. A small, isolated place on the ocean, where she could keep to herself and write. She just hoped the house would be okay. The listing, and her annoyingly bubbly real estate agent Debbie McPhee, had reported the house as needing minor repair work. Cass hoped for Debbie's sake that the listing rang true, because Debbie would be there when she arrived, to give her the keys and a full tour of the house. If things weren't in good shape, Cass knew she wouldn't be able to hold back. Debbie would consider leaving real estate for Avon. No one makes you cry when you're selling cosmetics. They might hang up on you or shut a door in your face, but they'd never make you question your self-worth.

Cass opened her dayplanner to her handwritten directions; Debbie had emailed turn-by-turn instructions from downtown O'Connell Creek, taking Cass along a pretty seaside road. There weren't many houses lining the route and Cass started to worry that this house was a remote cabin in the woods, but as she guided her sporty little Mazda around the final bend, all of her fears slipped away. A beautiful whitewashed house with a wraparound porch stood in her midst. Cass, releasing a sigh of relief, pulled into the driveway. She was just checking her makeup in the mirror, wishing she had made more of an effort when she left the motel where she had stopped to get a couple of hours sleep, when someone knocked on her window, scaring her so badly she could hardly open the door to the plump red-haired woman grinning at her through the window.

"Hi there, you must be Cassidy!"

"Cass, yes. And you must be Debbie," Cass said.

"Yes, ma'am!" Debbie said, cheerily. "But this isn't your driveway."

"What?" Cass said, her heart beginning to thump in her chest.

"This driveway belongs to the main house. Your house is the guest house."

"But this is the house in the picture."

"Yes, in the property pictures. The interior pictures are from your house but the exterior pictures are from the estate."

"Is that even legal?" Cass said, her voice an octave higher. "Isn't that misrepresentation?"

"Oh no!" Debbie said, clearly surprised. "Didn't you read the description?"

"I suppose not," Cass said. The pair stood in silence for a few moments, before Cass gave in. "I guess you better show me my house."

The tension was just about unbearable, as Cass followed Debbie around to the back of the house. Debbie attempted to ask how the drive from Toronto was, but Cass could only manage short, icy answers. They walked for a few minutes, through a barren orchard, to a clearing at the back of the property. A smallish white house, with a sagging porch and an overgrown garden stood in their midst.

"I know it isn't much to look at," Debbie said, nervously, "but it's a gem. Really. And wait 'til you see the bookshop. So quaint!"

"I didn't sign up for this, Debbie," Cass whispered.

"Forgive me, darling, but you did," Debbie replied. "Let me show you inside." Debbie didn't wait for an answer and walked towards the front door, jingling the keys a little with every step. Cass had no choice but to follow, mentally making a checklist of everything she'd need to do to repair the house so she could go at Debbie with her guns blazing.

Debbie pushed the front door open and stepped into a small vestibule area, opening on to a large bright kitchen. Cass stepped into the house behind her. This was more like it; the floors were clean, the windows sparkling, and the situation considerably brighter. The kitchen, with its pale blue walls, had been the dealbreaker when Cass was house-hunting online. She could see herself making coffee every morning, looking out on to her backyard.

Cassidy was quiet as Debbie guided her on a tour of the house. The main level was average, and she didn't get a great look at the bookshop; Debbie just sort of gestured through a small door in the living room. Cass tried to pause for a look inside, but Debbie was on a mission to show her the upstairs. The bedrooms were what she expected, bright and cheerful if not a bit small. The master suite was lovely, with French doors opening on to a widow's walk. Cass had actually squealed when she saw the widow's walk online – a bit out of character for a woman who had just been jilted – because she had seen a mansion with a widow's walk in Toronto when she was a little girl. Her grandfather had explained that women went to the highest point in their houses to watch for their husbands coming home from the sea. Many sailors didn't come home, and so the small balcony was aptly named. It became a design element further inland, instead of a practical element, but Cass could actually see the ocean from the house. She tried to open the French doors and step outside, but Debbie shrieked and jumped in front of her.

"It isn't safe. The balcony isn't up to code."

"What?" Cass said, exasperated.

"That's the only thing that didn't pass expection. If you want to use it, we'll need to arrange for it to be repaired."

Cass didn't say anything in reply. She had a dozen things she wanted to say to this woman, to this happy little hustler, but all of a sudden she was just too tired. Tired of the driving, tired of arguing, tired of starting over. She was still in the middle of the last start-over, so she figured she should just make the best of it.

"Where are my keys, Debbie?" Cass said.

Debbie handed them over, with a cheery smile. "I thought you'd come around!"

Cass rolled her eyes and left the room, leaving Debbie to waddle along behind her.

"Did my things arrive yet?"

"Yes, your boxes came to my house yesterday. Your furniture arrives tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? Where am I going to sleep?"

"I've arranged for you to stay in the main house. The owners, Sally and Ed, are snowbirds, so they are in Florida for another few weeks. Their son looks after the place when they're gone, but he's on a business trip at the moment. Sally's my best friend, so I have keys. She said you should make yourself at home."

"Well, it'll have to do until I have my own home, I guess."