The Girls of Mischief Bay

by Susan Mallery

  But John had promised he would handle everything and to her surprise, he had. When the guests had arrived, they’d swarmed the house and seen to the last of the unpacking. In less than an hour the books were in the bookcase, the baby-to-be’s room was in order and all the boxes were lying flattened in the garage. A good thing, because right after the burgers had been served, her water had broken. Six hours later, Brandon entered the world.

  The following year, they’d had the party again. Mostly to thank their guests who had cleaned up after the party and put the leftovers in the refrigerator.

  And so it had begun.

  The party had grown as she and John had made new friends. Later, their children’s friends had joined in. Some people had moved away or found traditions of their own. But the core of the party, the celebration of friends and summer and all that went with both, had continued.

  Pam stood in front of the kitchen window, watching her guests and sipping her margarita. Eugenia had called that morning to confirm the travel arrangements to London. The four women were meeting there for three days of sightseeing, before leaving for Amsterdam, where they would start their cruise.

  Pam was already checking out the Chico’s website for their easy travel clothes. Hayley would take Lulu for the three weeks Pam would be gone.

  Jen walked into the kitchen. Her daughter glowed in a simple red T-shirt and shorts. She was showing already and counting the days until summer vacation started.

  “Kirk says he’s starving,” Jen said with a laugh. “That man can eat. I’m going to take out the burgers so the boys can get started cooking.”

  The boys being her brothers, Pam thought. She put down her margarita. “Let me help.”

  “Mom, I can carry a platter of meat.”

  “Yes, and I’ll take care of the chicken and the ribs. You be sure to wash your hands when you’re done.”

  “Oh, Mom.”

  The words were filled with a combination of affection and frustration. Because Pam would always be a worrier and her family would have to live with that fact.

  Come mid-July, Jen and Kirk would move into the big house. The title was in the process of being transferred. Pam still had to decide how much furniture she was taking with her and how much she was going to buy. She thought a combination of familiar and new would be best.

  Pam and Jen walked out into the backyard. Shannon and Adam stood talking with Gabby, Adam’s sister. Char, Adam’s daughter, leaned against Shannon. Shannon absently stroked the girl’s hair.

  They were a family now, Pam thought, glancing at the other woman’s sparkling diamond engagement ring. Shannon had used her business-honed efficiency to plan a wedding for the last week of June. Three days before, escrow would close on Shannon’s beachfront condo. While they were on their honeymoon, Pam would move Shannon’s things into Adam’s house and her own things into Shannon’s former, aka her new, condo. Once engaged, Shannon had wanted to sell and Pam had wanted to buy. Taking care of the move was her wedding gift to her friend.

  Jen handed the plate of burgers to her husband. “Better?” she asked.

  Kirk kissed her. “Now that you’re here.”

  Pam set the chicken and ribs by the barbecue. Her children were happy, she thought with pleasure. Brandon was gearing up for finals, but enjoying every second of medical school. Steven had come into his own with the business. There were days when the responsibility weighed on him, but he got through it.

  She watched him talk to Hayley. Rob, Hayley’s husband, was traveling on business.

  Steven tucked a strand of hair behind Hayley’s ear as he laughed at something she said. Pam watched them, wondering if there was something going on, then dismissed the notion. Hayley was married. Steven would never get in the way of that.

  She turned her attention to the rest of her guests. Fraser Ingersoll and his partner talked with a couple of guys from John’s business. Lulu cuddled happily in her vet’s arms. Children ran through the trees, laughing and shrieking. Tyler was with them.

  Pam looked for Nicole. She stood with several other women. Although she nodded and smiled, there was still a sadness in her eyes. She’d gotten thinner since Eric had moved out. Quieter. Pam didn’t know what it was like to get a divorce, but she knew plenty about grieving. She would be there for her friend. Help her as best she could.

  Violet and Bea, from the angel fund, were part of the group of women. Pam had committed to join them. She still couldn’t believe how much money she was putting on the line, yet she knew she’d made the right decision. She wanted to be a part of something bigger than herself.

  So much had changed, she thought. She was moving, she was going to travel, she would be working several days a week.

  In a perfect world, John would still with her. He would be standing at the barbecue, cooking the burgers and telling jokes. He would catch her eye and wink at her and she would smile back.

  She thought about all that had happened since his death. All he had missed. The nights without him and how she still thought she had to call and tell him something, only to remember she couldn’t. Not anymore.

  She would give anything to have him back, even for a minute. Just one more hug, she thought. One more whisper of his voice. She would give anything, but that wasn’t an option. So she had begun to heal. To move forward. Because it was what he would have wanted.

  Sometimes life was hard, she thought, walking across the grass to be with her friends. Just when you least expected it, you had to start over. There was pain in that, but also satisfaction. With or without her wanting it to, life moved on. And she would, too.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from THREE SISTERS by Susan Mallery.

  THE GIRLS OF MISCHIEF BAY

  SUSAN MALLERY

  Reader’s Guide

  Questions for Discussion

  Bookclub Menu Suggestion:

  To Drink: A California Chardonnay

  To Eat: The Farm Table’s Chicken-Spinach Salad with Strawberries and Maple Vinaigrette (recipe follows)

  Nicole, Shannon and Pam are very different. Why do you think they’re friends? What do they have in common? Do you think age matters when it comes to friendship? Do you have a close friend from a different generation? What makes your friendship work?

  What did you think of the setting of Mischief Bay, California? Did the setting affect the characters and the story and, if so, how?

  Nicole was angry with her husband for quitting his job in order to pursue his dream of writing a screenplay. Did she have a right to be angry? Did your feelings change as the story progressed? How should Nicole and Eric have handled things differently?

  As you were reading, did you feel that Shannon really wanted children? Why or why not? How would you have handled Char at her birthday party?

  Pam does something surprising to breathe new life into her marriage with John. What did you think of the couple’s retreat? How did their relationship change after that? Would you ever sign up for a weekend like that?

  What did you think of Pam’s plan when she went on the cruise that John had booked? What surprised you about the cruise?

  Which heroine did you relate to the most, Nicole, Shannon or Pam? Why?

  How did each woman change by the end of the book? What were the turning points that prompted these changes?

  Susan Mallery’s working title for this book was The Beginners
Class. “Every time you learn something new, you have to start in the beginners class,” Nicole says in Chapter Thirteen. How is this relevant to each woman’s story? How is it relevant in your life?

  Nicole will be a main character in the next Mischief Bay novel. What do you hope will happen?

  The Farm Table’s Chicken-Spinach Salad with Strawberries and Maple Vinaigrette

  Vinaigrette:

  1/3 cup vegetable oil

  1/3 cup maple syrup

  3 tbsp. balsamic vinegar

  1 tbsp. Dijon mustard

  1 tbsp. lemon juice

  1/2 tsp. salt

  1/4 tsp. pepper

  Salad:

  1 lb. boneless, skinless chicken breasts

  5 oz. baby spinach

  8 oz. strawberries, quartered

  4 green onions, sliced

  1/2 cup slivered almonds, roasted 30 seconds in a dry pan

  Whisk together the vinaigrette ingredients and refrigerate.

  Grill the chicken breasts until thoroughly cooked. Slice on the diagonal. Mix all salad ingredients in a bowl. Serve with maple vinaigrette. Makes 4–6 main dish salads.

  Find more recipes from the restaurants of Mischief Bay at Websites: www.mischiefbay.com!

  “Gritty and magical, angst-ridden and sweet, this coming-home story by bestseller Mallery pulls no punches.”

  —Publishers Weekly on Barefoot Season

  If you loved The Girls of Mischief Bay, don’t miss the Blackberry Island series by New York Times bestselling author Susan Mallery, available now!

  Barefoot Season

  Three Sisters

  Evening Stars

  Be sure to also catch these great titles in Susan Mallery’s charming Fool’s Gold series:

  Until We Touch

  Before We Kiss

  When We Met

  Three Little Words

  Two of a Kind

  Just One Kiss

  Halfway There (novella)

  A Fool’s Gold Christmas

  All Summer Long

  Summer Nights

  Summer Days

  Almost Summer (novella)

  Only Us (novella)

  Only His

  Only Yours

  Only Mine

  Sister of the Bride (novella)

  Finding Perfect

  Almost Perfect

  Chasing Perfect

  All available now in ebook format.

  Looking for more? With more than one hundred ebooks available, you can also enjoy dozens of other memorable titles by Susan Mallery!

  Connect with us on Harlequin.com for info on our new releases, access to exclusive offers, free online reads and much more!

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  http://www.harlequin.com/harlequinexperience

  Chapter One

  Being left at the altar is not for sissies. Aside from the humiliation and hurt, there are actual logistics to worry about. Odds are if a guy is willing to leave you standing alone in front of three hundred of your closest friends and relatives, not to mention both your mothers, he isn’t going to sweat the little stuff like returning the gifts and paying the caterer. Which explained why three months after going through that exact experience, Andi Gordon was putting her life savings into a house she’d only seen twice, in a town she’d only visited for seventy-two hours.

  Go big or go home. Andi had decided to do both.

  After signing the final paperwork and picking up the keys, she drove up the hill to the highest point on Blackberry Island and stared at the house she’d just bought. It was known as one of the “Three Sisters.” Three beautiful, Queen Anne–style homes built around the turn of the last century. According to the Realtor, the house on the left had been restored perfectly. The ice-cream colors reflected the style and fashion of the year it was built. Even its garden was more traditionally English than casual Pacific Northwest. A girl’s bike leaned against the porch, looking modern and out of place.

  The house on the right was also restored, but with less period detail. The slate-gray trim framed stained-glass windows and there was a sculpture of a bird taking flight in the front yard.

  The house in the middle still had a For Sale sign planted in the unkempt grass. While like the others in style and size, the house she’d bought had little else in common with its neighbors. From the roof, with missing shingles, to the peeling paint and broken-out windows, the house was a testament to neglect and indifference. If the building hadn’t been historic, it would have been torn down years ago.

  Andi had seen the seller’s disclosure—listing all the problems with the house. It was pages long, listing every major issue, from an electrical upgrade done twenty years before to lousy and nonfunctioning plumbing. The building inspector Andi had hired to look over the place had given up halfway through and returned her money. Then her agent had tried to show her a lovely condo overlooking the marina.

  Andi had refused. She’d known the second she saw the old place that it was everything she’d been looking for. The house had once been full of promise. Time and circumstance had reduced it to its present condition—unloved and abandoned. She didn’t need a degree in psychology to understand she saw herself in the house. She understood the pitfalls of believing if she fixed the house, she would also be fixing herself. But knowing and doing, or in this case not doing, weren’t the same thing. Her head might be busy pointing out this was a mistake of mammoth proportions, but her heart had already fallen in love.

  Given her recent, very public broken engagement, falling for a house seemed a whole lot safer than falling for a man. After all, if the house abandoned her at the altar, she could simply burn it down.

  Now parked in front of the three-story disaster, she smiled. “I’m here,” she whispered, offering the promise to both herself and the house. “I’ll make you whole again.”

  The past three months had been a nightmare of logistics and recriminations. Buying one of the “Three Sisters” had given her something else to think about. Emailing documents for her loan was a lot more fun than explaining to her second cousin that yes, after dating for over ten years, Matt really had left her at the altar. He had actually said their decision to marry had seemed sudden and that he’d needed more time. And yes, he had run off to Las Vegas two weeks later, marrying his receptionist. She refused to think about the conversations she’d had on the subject with her mother.

  But knowing that she would soon be leaving Seattle for Blackberry Island had kept her going. She’d focused on her escape. Then she’d packed up her place in the city and headed north.

  Andi squeezed the keys her real estate agent had handed her, feeling the metal dig into her skin. The pain brought her back to the present, to this moment where there were only possibilities.

  She got out of her car and stared at the broken house. But instead of boarded windows and a sagging porch, she saw what it would be. New. Shiny. A home people would admire. Not a castoff. Because when the house was restored, Andi could call her mother and talk about that. It would be a far better conversation than listening to the woman list everything Andi had messed up in her life. Like not allowing Matt to guide her into changing herself and how she’d foolishly let a good man get away.

  Andi turned to admire the view. On a clear day the water of Puget Sound sparkled. Granted, clear days were relatively rare in this part of the country, but Andi was okay with that. She liked the rain. The gray, drizzly sky, the squish of her boots against the sidewalk. All that gloom made her appreciate the sunny days.

  She turned west, looking out over the sound. The houses had a perfect view. They’d ori
ginally been built by sea captains, oriented to watch the ships sail in. In the late 1800s, seafaring had still been important to the area, not yet overtaken by the lure of logging.

  This was right, she thought happily. She belonged here. Or she would belong, with time. If the renovations started to get to her, she would simply look at her view. The dance of the water, the peninsula beyond were far different from the high-rises of downtown Seattle. The city might only be a couple of hours away by car, but it was another planet when compared to the small town that was Blackberry Island.

  “Hello! Are you the one who bought the house?”

  Andi turned and saw a woman walking toward her. She was of average height, with long dark red hair that flowed halfway down her back. She wore jeans and clogs, with an ivory cable-knit sweater that just grazed her hips. Her face was more interesting than pretty, Andi thought as she approached. High cheekbones and large green eyes. Her pale skin was probably a result of both genetics and a complete lack of sun exposure since the previous September.

  “Hi. Yes, I am.”

  The woman smiled. “Finally. That poor place. It’s been so lonely. Oh, I’m Boston. Boston King.” She pointed to the house with the sculpture of the bird on the lawn. “I live there.”

  “Andi Gordon.”

  They shook hands. Weak sunlight broke through the clouds and highlighted what looked like a dark purple streak in Boston’s hair.

  Andi fingered her own dark hair and wondered if she should do something as dramatic. The most she’d ever managed was a trim.

  “Any relation to Zeke King?” Andi asked. “He’s the contractor I’ve been emailing about the house.”

  Boston’s expression brightened. “My husband. He and his brother own a local firm here on the island. He’d mentioned he’d been in touch with the new owner.” She tilted her head. “But he didn’t say anything about you, and I’m dying to know the details. Can you spare a few minutes? I just put on a fresh pot of coffee.”