by Kay Correll
Delbert grinned and clasped his hand, pumping it quickly. “Great. Great news. When can you start?”
“Today?” He smiled at his friend as he began to roll up his shirt sleeves. “And tomorrow I’ll wear something that’s a bit more appropriate for your weather down here.”
“Perfect. I was hoping you’d say yes. I’ve already spoken with a realtor. Found you a rental on the waterways. It’s nice, quiet, and you’ll have a dock if you’re a fisherman. It’s included in my offer to you.”
A place to live already procured. That was one thing off his list. He’d half-expected he’d just stay in a hotel somewhere nearby. But the privacy and peace of a house sounded nice. “Haven’t fished in years, but I could probably be talked into it if I have time.”
“Here, I’ll show you the room I’ve taken over for an office. It’s all yours now. And let me show you the rest of the hotel.”
He took one last look at the bay. A large sailboat sliced across the water in the distance. On the far side of the bay, he could barely see land. He took in a deep breath of the salty air. He was going to enjoy this job. So much nicer than his last job in the noise and pollution of the city.
He turned and followed Delbert inside, eager to get to work.
Donna finished up her early morning chores. She had just enough time to throw in some laundry and pick up a bit. The house was way more space than she needed, but she loved it. It had been her grandparents’ house, and she and Evelyn had spent so much time here when they were growing up.
After she’d inherited the house, she had wonderful memories of when Olivia and Emily had lived here with her, too. They’d stayed until Emily was about eight, but then Olivia had insisted they needed a place of their own. Luckily, they’d found the small house nearby and Donna had helped with the down payment.
Olivia loved having her own place with Emily, and Donna had—eventually—adjusted to living here alone. Her instincts had wanted her to beg them to stay, not leave her. But she knew that was her own insecurities speaking and that she had to let her daughter spread her wings a bit. And it wasn’t like Olivia actually left her—she told herself that often and loudly—Olivia had just grown up and wanted her independence and a place to raise Emily on her own.
But she was grateful that she’d been able to help her daughter when she got pregnant with Emily at only nineteen. She’d been there for her every step of the way. Not that she’d learned how to be a good mother from her own mom, but that was something Donna had made peace with. Kinda of. Pretty much so.
She glanced at the calendar on the wall. Speaking of her mother, she should be in some European city today. Who knew which one? There was a full itinerary printed out here somewhere of the world tour her mother was taking with a handful of people from her fancy retirement village. She’d gotten one photo and text with her mother in front of the Eiffel Tower in Paris, and one photo—no words with it—of her mom on a cute wooden bridge somewhere in Switzerland. She wasn’t even sure when her mother planned on returning. Not that it mattered much. They rarely saw each other. Her mom had even made an excuse for why she couldn’t come to Moonbeam for Christmas this last year. She wondered if Evelyn had heard from her recently. She hadn’t even thought to ask her sister the other night at dinner at Portside Grill.
She took one last look around, knowing the place really needed a deep clean, but who had the time? Ignoring the nagging thought, she headed outside. A lone man was leaving the rental house next door. The Meyers must have found a new renter. They only did longer-term rentals, and she was grateful for that. It helped prevent loud, weekend partier rentals. She locked the door and turned, intending on greeting her new temporary neighbor. She lifted a hand in a wave, but the man didn’t see her, engrossed in his own thoughts, and hurried off with brisk strides.
At a more leisurely pace, she followed him down the street, enjoying the sunshine. She loved the early mornings when not many were up and about. Never really minded being out before many in the town were stirring and being the person to open the store. Though it looked like her new neighbor was an early riser, too.
She got to the store, unlocked it, and flipped the sign to open. So began her day, just like the day before, and the day before that.
Olivia hurried into Parker’s mid-morning. She waved to her mom, who was busy with a customer, and went over to the small area at the side of the store where they had a long counter and a few small tables. Parker’s had always had a small malt shop area in the store. At first, it had been her great-grandmother’s homemade ice cream, one flavor a day, that townspeople flocked to come and enjoy in cones. Her great-grandmother had taken over running the store from her own parents and added the ice cream shop as her own special flair in the general store. Eventually, the tiny corner for ice cream expanded, so they had a handful of flavors, started making malts, and added a soda fountain.
This part of the store wasn’t very profitable anymore, and to make it profitable, they really needed more space to expand to a larger selection of food items. But there really was no more space to expand into without giving up something else in the store. Her mother made noises about changing it, but neither one of them could quite give up the history of the malt shop. And it did bring in people to the store, who then often remembered something else they needed to pick up.
She put on an apron and scooted behind the counter. The malt shop counter opened up about eleven a.m. each day until they closed the store in the evening. She looked up as her first customer approached. “Mr. Hamilton, hi. What’s your pleasure?”
“Butter pecan. Two scoops today. I’m calling it my late breakfast.” He winked at her.
“I think ice cream should always qualify as a meal.” She grinned back. He’d become a regular customer here since he bought The Cabot Hotel. Sometimes just a fountain soda—always with extra ice—and sometimes a cone or a malt.
She carefully dished him up a waffle cone with his ice cream and handed it to him. He slipped onto a stool to eat it as he often did, staying and chatting with her. She got a malt for another customer and turned back to Mr. Hamilton. “Things going okay with the work on the hotel?”
“They are now. Hired someone else to manage the day-to-day. Barry Richmond. Met him years ago and thankfully he was available for the job now. I need to go check on a hotel we’re opening in Tampa, and there’s a problem at one of our older hotels in Philadelphia. Going to be gone for a bit.”
“We’ll miss you.”
He smiled. “And I’ll miss your ice cream.”
“We’ll be here when you get back.”
“You’ll be one of my first stops when I do return.”
“Hi, Mom,” Emily called out as she breezed in the door and headed back to the stockroom. Emily always breezed through everywhere, a whirlwind of energy and ambition.
“My daughter, Em. She works here, too.” Olivia nodded toward the direction Emily had disappeared. She was pleased to see that Mr. Hamilton’s face didn’t immediately have the look she usually got when people realized she had a sixteen-year-old daughter.
“She looks like you. Except for the hair.”
“I know. Not sure where she got that all that red hair. She’s forever fighting to tame it, but it kind of has a mind of its own.” Why was she explaining her daughter’s hair to Mr. Hamilton? Although he was an easy one to talk to, she doubted a teen’s hair problems were big on his chatting list.
“I used to know a girl with hair like that.” He smiled and stood. “I should go. But one other thing I’d like.”
“What’s that?”
“Call me, Del, please. Mr. Hamilton… I keep thinking you’re speaking to my father.” His eyes twinkled with friendliness.
She grinned. “Del, it is, then. And I’m Olivia—Livy.”
“Thanks, Livy. See you when I get back in town.”
She watched as he left the store, then turned back to work. She had more vanilla ice cream to make, and things usually picked up here in the
afternoon. Better get moving before things got too busy. She sure didn’t want to run out of their signature flavor.
Chapter 3
Barry headed over to Parker’s General Store that evening. Ever since Del dropped by before he left town and mentioned the ice cream there, Barry had been craving a malt. He asked directions from a worker at the hotel who said to head to Magnolia Avenue and he couldn’t miss it. He took Harborside, cut across Third Street, and ended up on Magnolia Avenue. The worker was right, you couldn’t miss the large sign over the general store. Parker’s.
The whole idea of an old-fashioned general store intrigued him. Not to mention one with a malt shop inside. He headed down the block and pushed into the store. Del had said the malt shop was run by a young, friendly woman, Livy.
The woman behind the counter did look friendly, but she appeared to be about his age—and he’d quit thinking of himself as young quite a few years back. He slid onto a stool at the counter.
The woman turned from chatting with a customer and walked over to greet him. “What can I get for you?”
“Are you the Livy who my friend Del raves about? Says she has the best ice cream in the state.”
Her mouth swept up into a smile. “Ah, that would be my daughter. But we do have the best ice cream around. My grandmother’s recipe.”
“Really? So what do you suggest?”
“I always suggest the vanilla malt. My favorite. Our homemade vanilla is delicious.” She smiled again. “All the flavors are delicious, if I do say so myself. My grandmother was a genius with recipes of all types.”
“Then a vanilla malt it is.”
The woman deftly made the malt, said a word or two to the customer at the end of the counter, and greeted two new people who came in and wandered back further into the store. She did all this without missing a beat, then placed the malt in front of him with a straw and a long-handled spoon. “Enjoy.”
He took a bite—too large of a bite by the instant cold headache that stabbed his forehead—and acknowledged that everyone was right. Delbert and this woman. It was delicious.
A young teen walked up. “Grams, there are two more customers to check out. I’ll get them. Do you need anything else?”
Grams? Though there was a hint of gray threaded through her dark brown hair, he wouldn’t have pegged her as a grandmother of a teenager. Though, to be honest, he didn’t quite always do the math and it shocked him when he ran into old friends who were grandparents. He certainly wasn’t old enough for that. But really, what did he know? He had no kids, so he’d never have a grandkid. Confirmed bachelor. Not that it bothered him. He’d long since made peace with his choices.
The woman’s warm voice interrupted his thoughts. “Just check out the Jacksons, then you can head on home. I’ll lock up.”
“Okay, I’ll be in about ten tomorrow and unpack that paint shipment we have coming in.”
“Thanks, Em.”
The other customer finished his ice cream and left. He figured he should finish his and let this woman close up. She scrubbed the counter, and as she got nearer to him, she smiled. “No hurry.” She tidied up the area and turned back to him, leaning against the counter without a trace of hurrying him along. “So, you in town for vacation?”
“I’m here for quite a while, actually. Working on The Cabot Hotel renovations.”
“Really?” Her eyes lit up. “I’m so glad that Mr. Hamilton bought it and is fixing it up. She used to be the most elegant, grand hotel. Back in the 1920s people would come and winter at the hotel. It has a fascinating history. My granddaughter, Emily, works at the history museum and loves all the old stories about the hotel and the town.” She reached out her hand. “I’m Donna, by the way.”
“Let me guess. Donna Parker.”
She grinned. “No, Donna Foster. But the first Parkers to own the shop were my great-grandparents. Parkers are known for having daughters.” She shrugged. “So the store got passed down from daughter to daughter, even after the Parker surname died out for our family. But most of the town still refer to us as the Parker women.”
“So you inherited it with this generation?”
“I did. My older sister, Evelyn, doesn’t have any interest in the store. She’s… well, she’s busy with other things.”
“I see.” He nodded toward the young, red-headed girl rushing out of the store with a brief “Bye, Grams.” “And that’s your granddaughter?”
“Livy’s daughter.”
“Ah, the one Delbert attributes the deliciousness of the ice cream to.”
“The very one.”
“Oh, and I’m Barry. Barry Richmond.”
“Nice to meet you, Barry.”
He finished the malt and she took the glass from him as he rose. “Thank you. I’m sure I’ll be back soon for another one.”
“Any time.”
He headed out onto Magnolia Avenue and wandered down the street in the direction of his rental.
Or so he thought.
He finally realized he must be turned around and pulled out his phone to look at the map. He’d been walking in the exact wrong direction. With a tired sigh, he turned around and headed back down the street the way he’d come, looking for a Grand Canal Street that should lead him to Sandpiper Court and his rental.
As he passed Parker’s, Donna was just closing the front door. She touched a small sign by the door as she turned to leave. He startled her slightly as he approached. “Hello again.”
“Oh, Barry. Hi.”
“It appears I got a bit turned around when I headed home.” He grinned sheepishly. “I think I’ve got it now though.”
“Where are you headed?”
“Sandpiper Court.”
She looked at him closely. “On the waterway? Right near the point?”
“I am.”
“Ah, you’ve rented the Meyer’s place.” She grinned. “Hi, neighbor. I live in the house next door. The two-story on the point.”
“That house is wonderful. Love the architecture.”
“Been in my family for generations. Since they first built the canal system here to expand the town of Moonbeam. So, you want to walk home together?” She tossed him a grin. “At least you won’t get lost again. I’m pretty sure I know the way.”
He laughed, suddenly glad to have the company even though he was usually a loner. “It’s probably a good idea for me to have a guide.”
She cocked her head to one side. “Okay, we go this way.”
He fell into step beside her.
Barry and Donna walked down the sidewalk as the warm evening air wrapped around them. Fluffy white thunderheads towered in the sky as the sun began its descent. Donna must have said hi to at least a dozen people as they passed by. She leaned close with remarks such as “he’s the CEO at the bank” or “she owns Barbara’s Boutique—but her name is Margaret.”
They turned off of Magnolia and onto Grand Canal. “See that tree there? That’s a poinciana. One of my favorite trees. So pretty in the spring with its limbs full of flowers.” She walked at a leisurely pace, and he slowed his normal brisk pace to keep in step, realizing he was in no hurry for their walk to end.
They turned onto Sandpiper Court and she paused in front of his rental.
“Thanks for the tour and all the local information.” He paused at the end of the drive.
“Any time.” She looked like she was going to say something, but stopped just short. “Well, good night.”
“Night.”
She crossed the distance and entered into the old house at the end of the cul-de-sac. A light came on inside and spilled a warm glow out onto her front porch.
He turned and headed inside his rental, switching on the light as he entered, trying to make the house seem a bit more homey. Not that he needed homey since most of his life was in corporate apartments or hotel rooms, the absolute definition of not homey. But something about Donna’s friendly spill-over of warm, yellow light had tugged at something inside of him. Som
e distant memory of walking through the door at night and that feeling of “ah, I’m home.” He hadn’t felt that for more years than he could count.
Chapter 4
Olivia met Heather at Brewster’s on the wharf for coffee the next morning. She grabbed two black coffees and a table overlooking the bay. Heather slipped into the seat beside her moments later. “Cuz.”
She slid the coffee cup over to Heather. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” Heather dropped her purse onto a chair beside them. “I have missed Brewster’s coffee.”
“You miss everything when you’re gone,” Olivia teased. “Jimmy’s, Brewster’s—oh, and me.”
Heather laughed. “So true. I do miss lots about Moonbeam when I’m gone.”
“You shouldn’t stay away so much. Want to go out to Pelican Cay this weekend? Em and I are going with Mom and hitting the beach. Haven’t been to the beach in a long time.”
“That sounds great. I need a beach walk.”
Olivia smiled. “I know what you mean. Have to have my beach fix every once in a while. We’re taking Mom’s boat. Meet us at nine a.m. at her house?”
Heather tilted her head. “This isn’t one of Aunt Donna’s plans to get Mom and I out together, is it?”
“As far as I know, Aunt Evelyn isn’t going. She’s not much of a boater anyway, is she?”
“No, not much. They have that long dock wrapping around their property on the bay, but no boat in the slip. Father always said he doesn’t have time for boats.”
“Though, he does rent out that huge yacht at the marina for his business partners and takes them down to the Keys, doesn’t he?”
“He does.” Heather shrugged. “Complete with its captain and crew. It’s part of his big-shot persona.”
There was no warmth in Heather’s voice when she talked about her father. “Have you seen your Mom since you’ve gotten back? Aside from when we ran into her at the wharf, I mean.”
