Lena’s Lucky Charm: Love in Holiday Junction, Book 2

by Franklin, Tami

  “Chief Turner, Kay Simmons from KRQQ. Are you going to arrest these people?” she asked.

  He forced a small smile. “Let's hope it doesn't come to that.”

  “The protesters say they'll stay until they are heard. What's your response?”

  Gage resisted the urge to pick the woman up and move her aside. “I'm going to go hear them right now,” he replied. “Now, if you'll excuse me.” He nodded at Kinney, who moved in to keep the TV crew back to where Alice Camden was watching the proceedings, calmly snapping pictures with her phone.

  Lena spotted him walking toward them and started a new chant.

  “Two-four-six-eight! It's our town! Get it straight!”

  Gage stopped a few feet in front of them and held up his hands. He waited patiently until the shouting died down . . . until Lena was the only one chanting. Finally, she stopped, giving him a mulish look. He glanced at Vi.

  “Hey, Gage,” she said.

  “Vi,” he replied. “Surprised to see you here.”

  “Well, you know, Lena's my best friend—”

  “—and we're fighting for the historical legacy of our home town,” Lena said pointedly.

  “Right.” Vi nodded. “That, too.”

  “I understand you all are upset,” Gage said, addressing the rest of the protesters. “But you're on private property and need to vacate the premises at once.” A chorus of boos met him, and he raised his voice. “You're welcome to protest outside the fence, but if you remain here, I'll have no choice but to place you all under arrest.”

  Lena glared at him and shouted. “That's okay! Take me to jail! Holiday Junction's not for sale!” The others joined in on the chant and Gage sighed, his shoulders slumping.

  “Suit yourself,” he muttered, turning and waving Callahan over. The older man stood shoulder to shoulder with Gage, their backs to the protesters.

  “Get the bolt cutters,” Gage told him.

  Callahan nodded, lips pursed. His brown eyes darted back to the protesters, and he leaned in closer. “You want the pepper spray?”

  “No!”

  “Rubber bullets?”

  “For Pete's sake, no.” Gage shook his head. “Just get the bolt cutters. And tell Andrews to get over here and help us. We need to get these people out of here, but I don't want anybody hurt.”

  Callahan shrugged. “Suit yourself.” But he walked over to the patrol car and opened the trunk, pulling out the bolt cutters.

  “Stay back, sir,” Kinney told Mr. Webster. “We'll take care of this.”

  The four of them approached the protesters and Callahan hooked the bolt cutters into a link of the chain.

  “Stay together!” Lena ordered. “Be strong! Remember what we're fighting for!”

  Vi looked a little nervous. “Lena, are you sure about this?”

  “Hey hey!” she shouted in response. “Ho ho!”

  Callahan snapped the link and unwound the chain from the protesters, who squeezed together, elbows linked as they clutched their hands together in front of them.

  Andrews stepped forward and took a pale, freckled man by the elbow.

  “Go limp, Tony!” Lena shouted. “Don't make it easy for them!”

  As one, the group collapsed to the ground and Gage looked toward the sky, pleading for patience . . . help . . . anything.

  “This is your last warning,” Gage shouted over her. “If you're not off the property in thirty seconds, you'll be arrested.”

  Vi paled. “Lena,” she hissed. “I can't go to jail. I'm a teacher!”

  “It's a lesson in civil disobedience. You could use it in class,” Lena replied.

  “I can't either,” an older, bearded man in a cardigan said. “The wife's planning a barbecue tonight, and she'll have my hide if I miss it.”

  Lena gaped at him. “George, come on. You can't be serious.”

  One by one, they got to their feet and walked away, shoulders hunched and avoiding Lena's gaze.

  “Sarah? Not you too,” Lena said reproachfully.

  A curly haired woman shrugged. “Sorry, Lena.” She joined the others, and Andrews and Kinney followed them out, until only Lena and Vi remained.

  “Come on, Lena. We've made our point,” she said. “It's time to go.”

  Lena lifted her chin. “No. You go ahead. But I'm staying.”

  “Lena—”

  “It's okay,” she glanced at her friend. “Really, you go ahead. I'll be fine.”

  Vi got to her feet and brushed the dirt off her jeans. “Your mom is going to be furious.”

  Lena gave her a weak smile. “Won't be the first time.”

  At that, Vi turned to Gage. “Don't be too hard on her,” she murmured. “She cares about this a lot.”

  Gage nodded in response, but said nothing.

  Vi touched his arm, and popped up on her toes to whisper in his ear, “She's worth it.”

  Gage didn't even have a chance to ask her what she meant before Vi was gone. He turned to Callahan. “Make sure they stay outside the gates,” he told them. “I'll handle this.”

  Callahan gave him a look he couldn't quite read, and headed toward the road.

  Lena looked up at him, and extended her hands, wrists together. “Well, Sheriff, I guess it's time to go to the big house,” she said.

  “Don't be stubborn, Lena,” he said in a low voice. “Just get out of here and, you know, live to fight another day.”

  She stood up and squared her shoulders. “No. If you want to get past me, you're going to have to arrest me.”

  “Don't make me do this.”

  “Arrest me,” she said firmly, meeting his gaze with steely determination. “I dare you.”

  Gage frowned at his feet for a long moment, then pulled out his handcuffs.

  The holding cell of the Holiday Junction Police Department was pretty much how Lena remembered it from her teenage years. Gray. Sterile. Utilitarian.

  Of course, back then Chief Roscoe had taken it easy on her. He brought her cocoa and an extra blanket and left the wire mesh door open so he could play rummy with her while she waited for her parents to pick her up. Lena had been a bit wild in her younger years, although she believed it was more from a vibrant passion for life than any kind of rebellion.

  Her parents didn't usually agree with that opinion, but thankfully over the years they'd forgiven her misspent youth.

  Boy, they were going to have a field day with this one. Lena didn't even want to hear what her mother would have to say.

  She sighed and stretched out on the lumpy cot in the corner of her cell. It wasn't too bad, all things considered. The cell was clean and freshly painted, and a small, barred window allowed light from outside to trickle in.

  No cocoa, though. Sometimes, Lena really missed Chief Roscoe.

  It'd been a few hours since her arrest, and Lena was, more than anything, extremely bored. She'd continued to chant and sing protest songs for the first hour or so, but when Gage failed to respond, she finally gave up. She hadn't bothered with her one phone call. Vi had called Lena's lawyer for her, and she knew he'd stop by as soon as he got a chance.

  In fact, it was close to four o'clock by the time Chief Turner escorted Liam Durant to the holding cell.

  She sat up on the cot and swiveled to drop her feet to the concrete floor. “Counselor,” she said to him as the door slid open. “Thanks for stopping by.”

  Liam walked in, carrying a metal folding chair. He set it up opposite her and sat down, pulling a file from his briefcase. “Lena,” he said. “Been a while.”

  She tipped her head at Gage, who stood leaning against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest.

  “Can we get a little attorney-client privacy here, Sheriff?” she asked. And only when he walked away shaking his head, did she respond to Liam.

  “This is completely bogus,” she said, throwing up her hands. “It was a peaceful protest—”

  “On private property.”

  “—exercising our First Amendment righ
ts—”

  “Again,” Liam said, holding up a finger. “On private property.”

  Lena slumped. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

  “Because it's pertinent to your case,” he replied. “Not that you have a case, at all, I might add.”

  She sighed and pulled her hair into a ponytail, securing it with the elastic band around her wrist. “Can you at least get me out on bail?”

  Liam checked his watch. “Not a chance. Not on Friday night.” At her dejected look, he added. “Look, the Chief doesn't want to keep you in here. Just say you’re sorry and you won't do it again and he’ll let you go.”

  Lena chewed on her lip considering. “And if I don't?”

  Liam closed the file and tucked it into his briefcase. “I have it on good authority that the property owner does not want to file charges. So, if you don't make nice with the Chief, you spend the night in here.” He raised his eyes to the roof of the cell. “He'll have to let you go in the morning.”

  Lena lifted her chin stubbornly. “Then I'll stay in here.”

  “Really?” Liam studied her, his eyes narrowed.

  “It's the principle of the thing,” Lena said. When Liam shrugged and stood to leave, she asked, “Could you do me one favor?”

  “Is it illegal?”

  “Ha ha,” she deadpanned. “Can you get the reporters in here? Alice, and there was one from a network TV affiliate.”

  Liam sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I'll see what I can do.”

  In the end, only Alice showed up. The TV reporter was called away to cover an apartment fire, and Lena's story was reduced to a twenty second voice over on the eleven o'clock news. Alice listened patiently as Lena shared her story, and her concerns over the planned development, and promised a full page spread in the next issue.

  That was something, Lena supposed.

  By the time Alice left, Lena was starving, and almost jumped for joy when Gage walked in with a cardboard carton of something that smelled delicious. Bea nipped at his heels, and when she spotted Lena, darted over to turn circles in front of the cell door until Gage slid it open. Bea ran in and jumped onto Lena’s lap.

  “Hey, sweet girl, did’ja come to visit me in the big house?” Lena crooned, scratching the dog behind the ears.

  “Don't get excited, it's just a hamburger,” Gage said, handing over the carton, along with a cold can of soda. “We don't have a lot of overnight guests, so we can't offer five-star dining.” He looked away nervously, rubbing the back of his neck as she opened the carton and picked up the burger. Bea curled up next to her on the cot.

  “Look, why don't you just go home, Lena?” he said finally. “We don't have to make a big deal about this. I'll warn you to stay off private property and you'll say, Yes, Sheriff and we'll be good. And then you can go home.” The look on his face was almost pleading, and Lena didn't quite know what to make of it.

  She set the burger down. “I can't do that.”

  “Why not?” His hand dropped to his side. “Why can't you just let it go? I mean, they're not even doing anything out at the textile factory yet. Demolition won't be for months. You have plenty of time to try and fight it.”

  Lena didn't respond for a moment. She took a bite of the burger, chewed thoughtfully, searching for the right words to make him understand. After she washed it down with a sip of soda, she looked up at him.

  “Holiday Junction is my home,” she said quietly. “It's the one place in the world where I feel like I belong. Where I feel safe. So, I have to protect it. Can't you see that? I have to protect it like it's always protected me.”

  That statement sparked a look of confusion and curiosity in his eyes, and she talked on before he could ask what she wasn't ready to answer.

  “Sheriff, haven't you ever cared about something or someone so much that you had to keep it safe, no matter what happened to you?”

  Gage cleared his throat and nodded. “Of course I have. I'm a cop. I make that choice every day. We all do.”

  Lena gave him a faint smile. “Then you should get it,” she said, and she picked up her burger to finish her dinner.

  Gage left her to it without another word.

  * * *

  Late that night, Gage wandered into the holding area to check on Lena, quietly sipping a cup of coffee. He'd tried to sleep a little on the couch in his office, but her words kept playing back in his mind.

  Maybe it wasn't that Lena scorned the law. Maybe it was that she held certain things as even more important.

  She was curled into a ball on the cot, the blanket tucked around her and Bea sprawled, belly up, next to her. The dog had refused to leave her side. Lena let out a noise and snuggled closer to the pup.

  Gage had the sudden urge to turn up the heat, or bring Lena another blanket . . . make sure she was warm.

  And safe.

  He'd thought it a little odd the way she'd described Holiday Junction as a place where she felt safe. As if there were other places where she hadn't.

  Gage frowned. He didn't like the sound of that.

  He found himself wondering what exactly made Lena McKenna tick. She was stubborn. Passionate. She loved her family and friends. Loved her hometown.

  Wasn't crazy about him. Although for a moment there in the kitchen at the creamery, he'd almost thought—

  Well, he was most likely seeing things that weren't actually there.

  Gage sipped his coffee, feeling a bit unsettled. Perhaps he'd been a little hard on Lena over the past few weeks. It wouldn't have been the first time someone called him straight-laced or by-the-book. Structure and order were the way he lived his life. They made him feel comfortable.

  They made him feel . . .

  Safe.

  There was that word again.

  As Gage finished his coffee and headed back to his office he wondered if maybe—just maybe—he and Lena McKenna had more in common than he thought.

  * * *

  “We've got a problem,” Chelsea told the Mamas as she sat down at the head of the table. She'd tracked them down at their usual Saturday brunch at the diner, unsure of what else to do.

  “What's up?” Mandy asked, slicing a piece of sausage. Her long braids were caught up in a huge bun on top of her head and silver hoops dangled in her ears.

  “It’s not the Widows again, is it?” Anne asked. “I thought you took care of them, Lou.”

  “I did.” Lou poured some cream into her coffee. “They’ve moved on to the greener pastures of swing dance classes in the city.”

  That distracted Chelsea enough to ask, “How did you do that?”

  Lou’s lips quirked. “I merely hinted that the instructor was single. And the sole heir of a small fortune.”

  Mandy snorted.

  Chelsea shook her head. “Well, that’s all well and good, but we have bigger problems.”

  “What problems?” Mandy asked, biting into a piece of cantaloupe.

  “Gage Turner arrested Lena!”

  “And?” Lou looked up at her, smirking slightly.

  “You knew?” Chelsea gaped at her. “Oh, of course, Vi told you.”

  “Have a seat, Chelsea.” Anne waved the waitress over and ordered her a mimosa.

  “I don't understand how you can all be so calm about this,” Chelsea said, eyes wide. “It's all ruined. She's got to hate him now. We're back at square one.”

  “We're not back to square one,” Mandy said, sipping her coffee.

  Chelsea was momentarily distracted by the arrival of her mimosa. She took a long drink and settled down a bit. “Wait a second. You don't seem worried at all.”

  “Because we're not,” Lou replied, spreading jam on her toast.

  “Care to fill me in?” Chelsea asked.

  Lou swallowed her bite of toast and wiped her mouth. “As soon as I heard about the arrest, I contacted our man inside. Well, woman.”

  At Chelsea's confused look, Mandy said, “Susan Kinney.”

  “Susan Kinney?” Che
lsea repeated. “What does she have to do with any of this?”

  “Well, they don't always staff the police station overnight,” Lou replied. “I mean, it's a small town and they all have cell phones, so dispatch calls are automatically forwarded . . .” She waved her hands in a blah blah blah, and so on gesture. “However, they do have to have one of the officers on the premises if someone's in lockup.”

  Chelsea took another sip of her drink. “And?”

  “And,” Anne said, “Susan Kinney was on the schedule, but came down with an unfortunate migraine, so she had to call in sick.”

  It took a few beats for Chelsea to catch on. “Leaving Gage on overnight duty. With Lena.”

  Mandy pointed a finger at her. “Bingo.”

  “So, let me get this straight,” Chelsea said. “You bribed a police officer to fake sick so that Gage would be holed up with Lena all night at the police station?”

  “Bribed is a strong word,” Mandy said. “Let's just say Susan is sympathetic to our cause.”

  “And my cinnamon rolls,” Anne added wryly.

  “Well, they are delicious,” Lou pointed out.

  “Aw, thanks.”

  “So . . .” Chelsea finished off her mimosa and signaled for another. “This was all part of the plan?”

  Lou pushed her plate away and reached for her coffee. “Well, we didn't arrange for Lena to get arrested, of course. But one of the reasons we're good at what we do is because we seize opportunities when they arise.”

  “Like a night in jail.”

  Lou smiled. “Like a night in jail.”

  “Oh. Okay, then.” Chelsea sat back, relief evident on her face. “So everything's on track then.”

  “Everything's on track.” Lou sipped her coffee. “And now it's time for Phase Two.”

  * * *

  Gage had a jigsaw in one hand and a tool belt in the other when he walked into McKenna's Creamery Saturday afternoon. Lena was busy behind the counter, but she looked up at him and offered up a small smile.

  That was something, at least.

  When he'd finally released Lena that morning, she'd told him she bore him no hard feelings and understood he was only doing his job. He'd thanked her and warned her to stay off private property. She'd grinned and said, “Yes, Sheriff,” with a wink, and he thought maybe they were okay.