Lena’s Lucky Charm
Love in Holiday Junction, Book 2
Tami Franklin
Copyright © T.M. Franklin, 2019
Published by Calava Press
The right of T.M. Franklin to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her under the Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000
This work is copyrighted. All rights are reserved. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover images by: www.depositphotos.com
© ArturVerkhovetskiy
© yellow2j
Cover design by: Tami Franklin
Visit the Author’s Web Site at
www.TMFranklin.com
He doesn’t believe in luck.
She doesn’t believe in love.
Can they believe in each other?
Lena McKenna has never been lucky in love. After a string of bad relationships, she’s sworn off men, unwilling to give up the control over her life that she fought so hard to regain. When the new Chief of Police blows into town, his teasing smile and easy charm may work on everyone else, but Lena’s not interested.
Not at all.
Gage Turner left the pressures of being a big city cop behind, in search of peace and quiet in Holiday Junction. But Lena challenges him at every turn, flaunting the rules and generally driving him crazy. She’s exactly what he doesn’t need . . . so why can’t he stop thinking about her?
Teamed up for the St. Patrick’s Day Treasure Hunt, Gage and Lena must put their differences aside to have any hope of winning the pot of gold. But an even bigger prize is waiting, if they’re both willing to take a chance and grab it.
With an open heart, and a bit of luck, they could find love at the end of the rainbow.
Welcome to Holiday Junction, the town that takes it holidays seriously… and the perfect place to fall in love…
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
Special Thanks to…
Also by Tami Franklin
About the Author
“So, I think we're set. Tony, you'll bring the chains. Sarah has the padlocks.” Lena McKenna scanned the checklist before her. “And everyone is on slogan duty. Just email me if you think of a good one.”
“What about snacks?” Tony asked, pushing up his thick glasses. Tony Beltram was all about the snacks, no matter the occasion, as evidenced by the broad paunch beneath his short-sleeved, plaid shirt.
“I think it's best if everyone brings their own,” Lena replied. “We don't want a repeat of the Spotted Owl Twinkie Disaster.”
“How was I supposed to know that Sarah was allergic to cream filling?” Tony asked petulantly. “Who's allergic to cream filling?”
Sarah sniffed. “I can't do dairy.”
Lena was pretty sure there wasn't any actual dairy in a Twinkie's cream filling, but she held her hands up to stop the argument before it began. “Which is why snacks will be our own responsibility,” she said calmly. Across the table, her friend, Vi, pressed her lips together to keep from laughing.
“So, that's about it, I guess,” Lena said, tucking a lock of her long, brown hair behind her ear as she perused the list one last time. “We still have a couple of weeks until the protest—”
Tony held up a pale, freckled arm.
“Yes, Tony?” Lena managed not to sigh.
“I forgot, is it Friday or Saturday?”
“Friday,” Sarah replied, with more than a touch of exasperation. The two of them barely tolerated each other, but still ended up in Lena's core group of protesters whenever an important cause arose. Sarah shook out her sandy curls and glared at Tony. “First Friday of March. It's not that tough to remember. Put it in your phone, Tony.” She tapped a finger on the table next to his phone to emphasize the point and he picked it up and quickly jabbed the date into his calendar.
“Right, well.” Lena glanced out the front window of McKenna's Creamery, and stifled a yawn. She'd called the meeting after closing time, and it had been a long day at the family-owned ice cream shop she'd been running for the last few years. Mondays were always crazy, thanks to the buy-one-scoop-get-one-free special she ran every week. It was great for business. Not so great for her aching feet. Still, she turned back to the others with a smile. “As I was saying, we still have a couple weeks to recruit some more protesters, so I hope you'll all reach out to your friends and family.” With that, she adjourned the meeting and Sarah and Tony walked out the front door and into the night.
Vi watched them leave and leaned back into her chair. “You know, I think those two are secretly madly in love.”
Lena snorted. “If so, they're doing a good job of keeping it a secret.”
“You think this protest will do any good?” Vi asked as she helped Lena clean up the mess from the meeting—a few water glasses and cookie crumbs to be swept off the table.
“I wouldn't do it if I didn't,” Lena replied. “Someone has to stand up for the town.”
“Protect the good people of Holiday Junction from the big, bad real estate developers?” Vi grinned at her.
“The old textile mill is a historical building.” Lena wiped off the table, scrubbing at a sticky bit of caramel. “And they want to tear it down to put up a shopping center and luxury condos? No thank you.”
“I know.” Vi held up her hands. “You're preaching to the choir, here. I get that it'll drive up property taxes.”
Lena tossed the wet towel into the sink. “Housing's all well and good, but we need homes that people who live here can actually afford. And have you seen the artist's rendering of that concrete and glass monstrosity?”
“We've all seen it, Lena,” her friend said indulgently. “And you're absolutely right. It does not fit with the small town image that's made HJ the town it is today.” She said it like she'd heard it a hundred times. Which she probably had.
Lena sighed, scrubbing her hands over her face. “Sorry, I don't mean to lecture you. I'm just tired.”
“I know.” Vi smiled at her as she put on her coat. “You're passionate about this town and you try to make a difference. It's nothing to apologize for. It's part of what makes you, you.” Vi crossed the room and gave her a quick hug. “Now, I've got to head home and grade about fifty Intro to Theater papers because that's what makes me, me.”
Lena laughed. “Good luck.”
“Thanks.”
Lena walked Vi to the door and locked it behind her, then took one last look around the shop, like she did every night before she left. Everything was where it should be, the chairs upturned on top of the tables, the checkered floor shiny from her mopping. The large front window sparkled, the painted McKenna's Creamery sign reversed but still glowing gold in the light from the street lamp outside. Lena smiled to herself as she headed out through the kitchen—also neat as a pin, bowls stacked on the shelf over the counter, the two commercial ice cream makers standing proudly near the
freezer. She made a mental note to get more fresh raspberries for the next day's special, hung her apron on the hook by the door, kissed her fingertips, and hopped up to press them to the horseshoe over the door for luck. It had been there since the shop was first built, and Lena remembered her father lifting her as a small child to touch it.
“Good fortune comes from hard work,” he’d say with a twinkle in his eye. “But a bit o’ luck—it couldn’t hurt!”
Lena smiled at the memory, picked up the last bag of trash, and flipped off the lights. She emerged into the alley behind the shop and tossed the trash into the dumpster before locking the door. She always parked in the alley, not wanting to block the way for any potential customers out front. Holiday Junction wasn't a big town, but it did have its fair share of tourists, so the shop did well, generally speaking. Still, Lena didn't want to risk losing out on a sale just because she couldn't be bothered to park out of the way.
Flipping her keys around a finger, Lena made her way to the driver's side of her little blue sedan, and sighed heavily once she got in. All she wanted was a hot shower, a big sandwich, and a good night's sleep. But as she started the car, she froze, confused by the pink piece of paper sweeping across her windshield with the wipers. She turned them off and reached around to grab the paper, the corner ripping a little where it caught.
A parking ticket?
Lena frowned, not in anger, but in genuine confusion. She'd been parking in the alley since she took over the shop—no, since she got her driver's license when she was sixteen, more than twelve years ago—and her parents had parked there as long as she could remember.
She shrugged and stuffed it into the glove compartment. “Must be a mistake,” she said to herself, and she didn't give the ticket another thought.
Until three days later, when it happened again.
“Are you kidding me?” She plucked the ticket off her windshield.
“What's that?” Mrs. Katswopis asked, leaning against the door opening and holding a broom. Mrs. Katswopis had worked at the McKenna's since she was a teenager, for Lena's grandparents. She was a widow, in her seventies now, but still liked to come in a few days a week to help out. Lena never knew when she'd show up, but she couldn't bring herself to say anything about it. The older woman would hand in her hours on a neat sheet of paper, and Lena paid her. She really didn't mind. She could use the help, and Mrs. Katswopis knew the shop as well as Lena did.
“A ticket,” Lena mumbled, reading it carefully for the very first time. “For parking in a no-parking zone. I didn't even know we had parking tickets in Holiday Junction.” She flipped the paper over, trying to determine if it was counterfeit.
Mrs. Katswopis harrumphed. “That's ridiculous.” She set the broom aside and smoothed her white hair, always neatly pinned in a chignon. She wore an apron over her perfectly pressed white blouse and dark slacks, a pair of bright green sneakers finishing off the outfit.
Mrs. Katswopis had flat arches and claimed they were the only shoes she could wear comfortably.
“It is ridiculous!” Lena agreed, holding up the ticket and shaking it a little. “It doesn't make any sense.”
“Probably the new Chief,” Mrs. Katswopis said, peering over her wire-framed glasses. “That's what they get for letting an outsider in. Everything ends up in a tizzy.” She threw up her hands, shaking her head. “He's from a big city, you know. Probably doesn't know any better.”
Lena had heard they'd hired a new Chief of Police, although she hadn't really been paying much attention at the time. Chief Roscoe had retired almost three years ago, and they hadn't bothered to replace him in all that time. Holiday Junction was hardly a hotbed of crime, but of course, Mayor Kendricks would hire a big-city cop to fill the opening. He'd see it as a mark of distinguishment for the town.
She focused on the scribbled signature at the bottom. “G. Turner.”
“That's right,” said Mrs. Katswopis, snapping her fingers. “Turner. From Chicago, I believe.”
Lena folded the ticket and slid it into her purse. “Well, I believe Officer Turner needs a lesson in how we do things here in Holiday Junction.”
“You tell him, sweetie!” Mrs. Katswopis said, holding up a fist. “But could you get the napkins, first?”
“Yes, I'll swing by now,” Lena replied, getting into the car.
“And don't forget the vanilla!”
“Right!”
And after the trip to the post office, the restaurant supply store in the city, and the Adams' farm to get more honey on the way back, visiting Officer Turner, whoever he was, kind of slipped Lena's mind.
Until the next day.
Lena was taking out the trash, and about to head back inside when she spotted a familiar flash of pink on her car's windshield
“You have got to be kidding me!” she shouted to no one in particular, yanking the ticket out from under the wiper. “That's it! I'm taking care of this right now!”
She stalked back into the shop—empty at that moment—and flipped the sign on the door to Closed. Then, thinking better of it, she scrawled out a note—Off to fight injustice. Back in :30—and taped it next to the closed sign. Then she stomped back out into the alley, pausing only to touch the horseshoe for luck. She locked the back door of the shop, and got into her car, taking a deep breath to calm herself a bit before she drove out of the alley, turned right, then left onto Main Street.
Despite gray skies overhead, Holiday Junction was a riot of green. The town's decorations for Valentine's Day had disappeared, packed away until next year. In their place, shamrocks, top hats, and leprechauns were the order of the day. The ever-present twinkle lights overhead had been changed to green and white, and green bunting draped over the awnings of the shops in town. Even the fountain in front of City Hall had had been dyed for the occasion.
Lena pulled into the visitor parking and took another deep breath. She needed to get ahold of herself so she could talk to this man, Turner, calmly and rationally. Point out that the area behind her shop, although technically a No Parking Zone, according to the sign that had long ago been knocked down and now stood propped against the wall behind the dumpster, wasn't really . . . or at least it didn't apply to her, since she owned the shop. She needed to be friendly and win him over. That was the ticket.
Heh. The ticket.
Lena smirked and got out of her car. She walked into the City Hall lobby and smiled at the receptionist, ignoring her when she asked if she could be of assistance. She turned instead and walked through the glass doors leading to the Holiday Junction Police Department.
It was a large room, with industrial gray walls, broken by windows overlooking the parking lot, and vinyl tile floors, scarred and scuffed by scores of black-soled boots over the years. A large seal of the state of Washington was prominently featured on the wall opposite Lena, above cut-out metal letters reading Holiday Junction Police Department, Protection, Service, Courage, & Compassion. Metal desks and file cabinets were arranged around the room, leaving a path to the hallway at the back, which led past an office and break room, to a small holding area.
Lena may have spent some time back there during her misspent youth. Who knew Chief Roscoe would take it so personally when you TP’d his house?
“Hey, Lena.” Mark Andrews looked up from a file he was reading and smiled at her, his teeth bright white against his dark brown skin. “Can I help you with something?” he asked.
She crossed the room and plopped down in the chair next to him, slapping the ticket down on his desk. “This,” she said.
He arched a brow. “Hi, Mark. How are you, Mark?”
Lena sighed heavily. “Hi, Mark. How are you, Mark?”
“Well, I'm just fine, Lena. Thanks for asking.” He smiled at her again. “How are you?”
Lena huffed out a laugh. “I'd be fantastic if it wasn't for these stupid tickets,” she said, sliding it toward him.
Mark picked it up and scanned it. He'd rolled up the sleeves of his tan uniform shi
rt, and Lena could see the edge of a tattoo on his right arm. “Looks like you've been parking where you shouldn't be,” he said, smirking slightly.
Lena glared at him. “Oh, thanks ever so much for that clarification,” she said. “Your investigatory skills are top-notch. You'll make detective in no time!”
“Hey, don't get mad at me,” he said, holding up his large hands. “I didn't write it.”
She leaned on the desk, peering at him. “That's why I'm here. I'm looking for whoever did. Somebody named Turner?”
Mark's dark eyebrows shot up. “Yes, that would be the new Chief.”
“And where might I find this new Chief?”
He got up from his desk. “He's in his office. I'll introduce you.”
Lena stood up quickly and followed him toward the office. “Really? You're just going to let me back there?”
“Are you kidding?” He grinned at her. “This will probably be the most interesting thing to happen today.”
* * *
Gage Turner adjusted the framed diploma from Illinois State, hung on the faux wood-paneled wall between a picture of his parents, and one of him shaking the governor's hand in 2015. He'd received an award for being part of the task force that brought down a human trafficking ring. They'd saved a lot of lives. Gage knew that. But what he'd seen . . .
He shook his head and looked away from the picture. That had been the beginning of the end for Gage. All the violence, the brutality . . . the inhumanity he'd seen on the job had taken a toll, and eventually, he couldn't take it anymore. Call him a coward, but he needed a life of structure, order . . . peace. And eventually, that led him away from the streets of Chicago, and to the quiet country lanes of Holiday Junction, Washington.
Lena’s Lucky Charm: Love in Holiday Junction, Book 2 Page 1
