Snowflake Bay

by Donna Kauffman

Fiona looked at her sister, but she was watching Fergus as he dozed.

  “That’s a good thing, Fi,” Hannah said, glancing up. “It’s a really good thing. Don’t take it for granted. Even when two people know each other like you two do, that kind of natural inclination to turn to one another, be there for one another, that’s a really special bond. Don’t be too quick to push it away.”

  “Why do you think I’d push that—push him—away?”

  “Fear. He’s in an upside-down place in his life, you’re starting over here. You both have a lot of stuff going on, with work and with family. It might seem easier not to risk anything else and go it alone.”

  “Did you feel that way with Calder?”

  She nodded. “It’s kind of terrifying, being that vulnerable to someone.” She smiled. “And the best kind of wonderful, all at the same time.”

  Fiona let Hannah’s words float in her mind, settle in her heart. “You’re right. It’s just like that.”

  “Then it’s worth doing what you can to keep it.” She lifted a hand. “Just my two cents, but then”—she flashed a brief, wide smile—“I’m probably a little biased.” Her engagement ring twinkled in the overhead light.

  Fiona smiled with her. “Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves here, but . . . thanks. I appreciate the advice.”

  “Me, too,” Hannah said. “I’m thinking maybe we should go with our second wedding cake choice.”

  Fiona arched a brow. “Should I be afraid to ask?”

  “Well, it’s not red velvet, but . . . what do you think about champagne cake with a cherry-pie filling? I think with it being Christmas, the bright red and white could be gorgeous, and the champagne will add a bit of a kick and underscore the celebration.”

  Fiona’s expression split into a wide grin. “I think that sounds exactly like you. Cool and elegant on the outside, filled with passion and love on the inside. I’ll get to work on finding a baker.”

  “Well, I kind of already talked to Alex and Delia. They want to double-team it.”

  Fiona’s eyes went wide. “But Alex is in the wedding and—”

  “Can a man get a bit of sleep in here or am I doomed to be listenin’ to ye rant on about cake and such?”

  Both women startled at Fergus’s gravelly voice, but Fiona was instantly filled with warmth and relief at hearing his thick brogue, even slurred as it was. Now he sounded more like her uncle Gus. She reached for his hand again. “I’ll leave you two in peace,” she said. She gave him a light squeeze and leaned down to buss his cool, scruffy cheek. “You need your rest,” she whispered. “You’ve got a bride here counting on you to march her down the aisle.”

  “Fi, don’t burden him with—”

  But he was already dozing again, as the loud snore that punctuated the room made clear.

  Both sisters snorted a little laugh at that. “He’d be the first one to be pushing us. But don’t worry,” Fiona told her. “We’ll see how he is in the next few days and proceed accordingly. If Delia and Alex really do want to do the cake, then that’s one less thing to have to cancel or rearrange if you and Calder decide to postpone since they already know the situation.”

  Hannah nodded and looked to Fergus, who was now snoring steadily. “Maybe what he needs is us standing around his bed bickering and discussing our days to make him feel like he’s back in the thick of it.”

  “You might not be too far off with that.” Fiona did straighten and walk to the door now. “He’s going to come through this, Han. I can tell. That sounded like our Gus.”

  Hannah nodded, then smiled as she sniffled and wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “I know you’re right. Don’t mind me. We’ll be fine. Okay?”

  Fiona nodded, smiled. “I know we will. Love you.”

  “Love you back. Good luck with the Kerry wrangling.”

  “Thanks,” Fiona said, dryly. “I’ll need it.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Fiona left the hospital and decided to make a run by her cottage first. Beanie had kept part of the upstairs as a small bedroom, turning the rest into office and storage. The kitchen was still in the back of the cottage on the main floor and was used as a sort of break room, so Fiona had moved out of the bed-and-breakfast and was using the cottage as her home base until she decided what she wanted to do about her living situation. But between the holiday and Fergus, she’d spent most of her time either at the hospital, crashing in the spare room Kerry was using over the pub, or in her old bedroom out at the Point. She hadn’t even been by her new shop since before Thanksgiving.

  The lot in front of the tree stand was packed, with folks strapping trees to the tops of their cars and wandering through the rows of trees that had been lined up in the field. The blanket of snow made the scene look that much more festive. There were red bows tied to the tops of some trees, and wreaths were also for sale, many sporting bows in red, gold, silver, or blue. She grinned as she noted that the young folks who were running the stand all wore the same green elf hat that Ben had had on.

  That hadn’t been a Campbell Christmas Tree Farm thing before, so she wondered if it had been Ben’s idea. Sounded about right, she thought. Still smiling, she parked next to the curb, leaving her side lot available for the tree buyers, and pulled up short as she noticed Beanie at the door on the front porch.

  Beanie paused for a moment when she saw Alex’s truck, then smiled and waved when Fiona got out of the cab.

  She met Fiona on the porch steps. “I was just dropping by to check on the place. Mailbox on the curb was full to overflowing.” She held up the bundle she had in her arms. “Thought I’d tuck it inside for you.” She dangled a key on a chain that had a little plastic heart with Beanie’s Fat Quarters printed in white across the front. “Found this in an old drawer at home. Was going to give it to you, unless you were planning to change the locks.”

  “I haven’t had a chance to do much of anything yet,” she said, then took the proffered key. “Thanks, though. And thanks for grabbing the mail and checking on me. I had my mail forwarded, but there was some kind of snafu on the other end, so—” She nodded at the thick stack. “I guess they got it figured out. Here, let me get that.”

  “I’m afraid it will go every which way. Why don’t you just open the door and I’ll set the mail inside for you?”

  “Thanks,” Fiona said, then made a private little face as she moved past Beanie and fiddled the key into the lock. “It’s really nice of you to come by, but please don’t feel that you have to,” she began. She liked Beanie a lot, but she was beginning to feel some real concern about the frequency of her visits.

  “Oh, it’s no bother.” Beanie followed her in, deposited the mail on a stack of boxes as directed by Fiona, then took a moment to look over, once again, the still mostly empty rooms.

  Fiona felt a pang, even as her alarm flags rose up a bit higher. She knew what it was like to miss a place that felt like a part of you. Fiona had felt that way when she’d left the Point for college, and even more so when she’d moved to Manhattan for good. She hadn’t so much felt that way about her shop or her tiny, cramped apartment in the city, but she did miss the way having them had made her feel, the sense of accomplishment, of belonging to something of her own making. She took a moment and followed Beanie’s gaze around the room, and wondered how she’d come to feel about this place. She loved the little cottage, it was perfect for her needs, and it made the exact statement she hoped her design style would make. If and when she ever got to actually design for someone again.

  “I just popped in to grab some clothes,” she told Beanie. “I’m heading over to help Alex out at the pub for a bit.”

  “How is your uncle?” Beanie asked, her sweet, round face a wreath of concern.

  “He’s awake now, which is great. He’s going to be facing some obstacles, but we’re feeling optimistic.”

  Beanie immediately beamed and took Fiona’s arm and squeezed. Beanie was a definite arm squeezer. “I’m thrilled to hear it. Well, I
’ll get out of your hair. My best to your family.”

  She had turned toward the door when Fiona suddenly blurted out, “Beanie, wait.”

  The older woman turned back, her expression open, eyes twinkling. She was also a twinkler, Fiona thought. “Yes, dear? Something else I can help you with?”

  “No. I mean, yes.” Beanie’s gray eyebrows furrowed in confusion and Fiona just said what was on her mind. “I know you miss your shop. And I also know you don’t miss running your shop.”

  “I don’t want it back, dear, if that’s what’s got you concerned. I’ve made something of a busybody out of myself, haven’t I?” She looked a bit stricken at that.

  Fiona crossed the room and now she was the arm squeezer. “No, you haven’t. I mean that.” She smiled. “I was thinking that it will take me some time to get up and running, but one thing I had in the city that really was a lifesaver was my assistant. She helped schedule appointments, fielded calls, took care of—oh, who am I kidding, she saved my life on a daily basis. I was thinking that being here, I probably wouldn’t need one because my work load will be less, but—and maybe this is way off base, but I mean it in the best possible way. Would you consider coming to work for me? You could still be part of this place, it would help me enormously, but you wouldn’t be responsible for the business. End of the day, you just go home.” Now that she’d said it, she hoped she hadn’t insulted the woman. “Think about it. Or turn me down flat. I—I didn’t mean any disrespect by it, I just—ooph!”

  She was cut off by Beanie wrapping her arms around her and all but hugging the life out of her. “That’s the sweetest, most thoughtful thing.” She finally let go, and her light blue eyes were a bit damp as she looked at Fiona. “I’d be delighted. You just let me know when and what, and I’m here. I really don’t want to run my own business.” She smiled a bit devilishly. “But I surely won’t mind telling you how you should run yours.”

  Fiona couldn’t help it, she smiled with her. “Go with your strength.”

  Both women laughed. Part of Fiona immediately wanted to freak out and second-guess her knee-jerk gesture, and she might well kick herself in the ass a hundred times over, but the look of joy on Beanie’s face when she looked around the space again ended any internal debate she might have had. Beanie’s Fat Quarters had been a very successful business, grown in a small, rural town that didn’t see significant tourist traffic in the summer. The older woman’s insights into how she’d managed to do that would make her an invaluable asset, not to mention she was far more immediately involved with everyone in town than Fiona, and a very highly regarded member of the community. Her connections could be a conduit to getting Fiona some traffic to help get things started.

  “Now that the lighthouse is restored, more folks will be trekking up this way to take a gander at it,” Beanie said, as if reading Fiona’s mind. “I had all sorts of ideas on how to work that to my favor, but ended up making the decision to step back. I’ll be happy to share them with you if you like. I don’t want to overstep.”

  “I would very much like,” Fiona said. “Let me get through these next couple of days and learn more about what my family will be facing. Then we’ll sit down and have a good long talk.”

  “I’ll make the tea,” Beanie said, smiling. “I admit I’m a bit relieved,” she said with a happy little sigh.

  “About . . . having something new to focus on? I wondered if you weren’t quite ready to retire.”

  “Oh, dear, I was more than ready to not be a slave to this place any longer. I have my share of hobbies, which are enjoying a bit more of my attention, and it’s true, I do miss having something a bit meatier to focus on from time to time. But that’s not what I meant.”

  “What then?”

  “I said before and I still feel that you’re the perfect person to take over this cottage. You’ll honor all the love and joy this place has seen. I couldn’t be happier or feel like it’s in better hands.”

  “But?”

  “Well, not to speak out of turn, but there’s a bit of a buzz regarding you and that nice Ben Campbell from Snowflake Bay.”

  Fiona knew that shouldn’t surprise her, but she felt her cheeks warm. “Actually, he lives in Rhode Island now,” she said, hoping to deflect any more personal digging.

  “Yes, runs a successful landscape company there. I know. His mother is quite the quilter, though where she found the time I’ll never know. I was sorry to hear about them picking up and moving south, but I know it’s often the choice for some folks as age creeps up on them.”

  Fiona thought that Beanie probably knew more about the Campbells’ reasons for heading south than she let on, but liked the fact that she was respectful enough not to gossip. Spoke well of her, and was another vote in the win column in terms of her working for Fiona. “Yes, I know. Ben has always known he would take over the farm someday; it just came a little sooner than he thought.”

  “And that was my concern, you see. If the two of you were to become an item . . .” She went back to the arm squeeze, and this time it was accompanied by a particularly twinkly smile. “And, if you want to know what I think, well, I just think it’s the sweetest thing ever. Childhood sweethearts. Well, not exactly, but you get my meaning. How lovely a thing that is, you both finding each other now. But then, I got concerned that when he went back to Rhode Island, maybe you’d go with him. More opportunity there to run a design business, and of course, who could fault you for following the man you love, but—”

  “I came home because I didn’t want a big, chaotic design firm. I did that. I want small, low-key, quietly successful.”

  “Well, I’m originally from Boston, you know, and ever so glad I didn’t become a shopkeeper until after I met and married my Carl, God rest his soul, and moved here to Blueberry Cove.” She gave Fiona a hopeful look. “But if you’re talking about taking me on, then that means you’re staying put.”

  Fiona nodded. “Yes, that’s the plan.”

  Beanie’s expression turned apprehensive. “So, does that mean you’re not seeing that handsome young man?” Her expression turned decidedly more hopeful. “Or has he decided to stay up here and run his folks’ farm full time?”

  “I . . . I don’t know. About any of it really. We’re just . . . well, we’ve known each other a long time, but we’re, uh, taking it one step at a time.”

  “I’ve overstepped again,” Beanie said, looking a bit abashed, but a bit of that devilish gleam remained. She was a kind, sweet woman, but it was wise to remember she was a sharp one, too.

  “No, no. You haven’t. I just don’t have a simple answer for you. Except that no, I am not planning on leaving the Cove. I’m glad to be home. And with Hannah marrying, Logan already married, and now things going on with Fergus, well . . . this is the only place I would want to be.”

  “Well then, I’ll stop nosing in what’s not my business and hope it all works out for you.”

  “Thanks,” Fiona said, smiling sincerely. “I hope so, too.”

  But as she let Beanie out and watched her make her way down the porch steps and out to her car, Fiona couldn’t shake the feeling that, listening to the way Beanie put it . . . was she fooling herself to think there was going to be some magic solution?

  Chapter Nineteen

  Ben hadn’t seen Fiona in a week. They’d texted, talked on the phone, shared their days and bemoaned the long, lonely nights. Not that he knew what a long night not alone was like where she was concerned, but their little interlude in his kitchen had given him some definite ideas. Not to mention more than a few cold showers, and even a few hot, steamy ones.

  The weather had decided to play nice, so the tree lots and the farm were virtual beehives, and though everything was running as smoothly as possible, that didn’t mean he wasn’t having to put out small fires on multiple fronts at all times to keep it that way.

  The surprisingly moderate weather, combined with the holiday spirit, and the magazine spread, had also brought a boost in
business down in Portsmouth, too. Far more than was typical this time of year, and more than he’d been expecting, AE exposure or no. So he’d also been on the phone seemingly every other hour with his manager and assistant manager trying to schedule times for him to speak with prospective new clients. He knew a certain percentage were looky-loos wanting their brush with pseudo-celebrity to give them something to tell their neighbors and associates, even though they had no intention of hiring him. Paul, his right hand, had taken over that unenviable task, weeding out the status seekers, while Stephanie, his other right hand, coordinated call times for him to speak to those who made it past Paul.

  When he explained why his contact with potential new clients had to be over the phone for now, most were very understanding about his situation. The ones who weren’t, or who had time frames that required more immediate attention, well, those weren’t folks he was going to be able to satisfy anyway. As it was, he already had a backlog of clients he’d been contracted with prior to his parents’ sudden move south, so they came before any of this latest spate. Fortunately, the work he’d contracted over the winter was mostly indoors, and that was mostly thanks to the latest indoor garden spa craze. He was thankful for it and the work. The new clients were mostly outdoor jobs that had to wait until spring anyway.

  When he had time to take a breath, he was quite pleased with how everything was turning out. As long as he didn’t think too far ahead and let himself feel flattened by the work load piling up in Portsmouth and all the decisions that still had to be made here in Snowflake Bay.

  At the moment, he’d shoved all of that aside to focus on one very specific event, and to that end, he stepped into the kitchen at the house, closed the door behind him, and called Fiona.

  She picked up on the third ring, sounding seriously out of breath.

  “I’ve caught you at a bad time, apparently,” he said.

  “Oh,” she said, then swore quite creatively under her breath, before adding, “you have no idea.”