by JoAnn Ross
“You also fly Gloria down here and show her a great time at least once a year,” Shelby reminded her. “She had such fun when you took her shopping for a new glam dress for the Emmys. You also pitched in with the funds for her day spa. It’s not as if you’ve deserted her.”
“True, though most of the money for the new salon and spa came from her never treating herself to anything and saving all her money instead. And if there’s anything living in this city and working in our industry has taught us, it’s that money doesn’t guarantee happiness. Family is the most important thing.”
“You won’t get any argument from me on that. I don’t think my sister could’ve gone back to work if Mom and Dad didn’t live ten minutes away to take care of her kids.” As darling as the toddler triplets were, the few times Jolene had met them, they’d worn her out with their energy. And she was ten years younger than Shelby’s sister.
“My mom’s been hinting at being a grandmother,” Jolene said.
“And?”
“Not going to happen.”
“Never say never,” Shelby said. “Ètienne and I had The Talk—” she put air quotes around the words “—last week.”
“How did that go?”
“I thought two sounded like a reasonable number, because my sister and I have always gotten along so well. But he pointed out that two allows the kids to team up against us. He grew up with five siblings—”
Jolene held up a hand. “Please don’t tell me you agreed to match that?”
“Just because my eggs are aging as we speak doesn’t mean I’ve lost my mind. Or course not. But he thought three might work better.”
“But wouldn’t three against two put you at even more of a disadvantage?”
“That’s what I asked. But he assured me that with multiples, there are always power struggles going on. So, their army, so to speak, is splintered. While we maintain a united front.”
“You make it sound as if you’ll be planning the D-Day invasion. Or Henry V’s battle against the French at Agincourt.” Jolene knew that one well, having headed up a three-person makeup team for a performance at the Pasadena Playhouse.
“You’re awfully young to be so cynical,” Shelby returned.
“Perhaps. But it’s served me well. If I’d been crying my eyes out over Chad, I’d have crumbled when I saw the fire. Instead, here I am. A new plan already in the works.” Not wanting to even allow a negative thought about her mother’s possible condition, she bit into one of the buttery croissants Ètienne had made before she’d even gotten out of the shower and nearly moaned. “I swear, your man is a culinary god.”
“I know.” Shelby patted her washboard stomach. “Even with all the sex we’ve been having, I had to add kickboxing to my workout routine to work off the extra calories I’ve been eating.”
“I don’t know which to be more jealous about.” She took another bite. “I take that back. It’s his food. Definitely.”
“I’d argue that, but I don’t want to rub my good fortune in. And getting back to my point, if you stick around town, you’ll probably end up getting sucked back into a project, because if you were an actress in a Christmas romance novel or movie, you’d be cast as the workaholic city girl who gets swept off her feet by a small-town cowboy. Or better yet, a sheriff. With a badge. And a big gun on a leather belt slung low on his hip.”
“Big gun being a metaphor.”
“Exactly. But my point was this way you’ll be off the grid out in the middle of nowheresville.”
“Honeymoon Harbor has Wi-Fi. And cell service.” Shelby Carpenter was a rare specimen: a native Los Angelean, so to her anything beyond Santa Barbara might as well be on another planet. “But I get the point, and it did occur to me.”
“Hopefully, it’ll be no big deal.” Shelby sobered.
“That’s what I’m hoping, too.” Jolene couldn’t imagine losing her mother. She also knew that she could well have a fight on her hands. One she was determined to win.
* * *
AFTER TAKING THE clothes out of the dryer, showering and repacking, having been notified that she wouldn’t be able to retrieve her car until late afternoon or early evening, she went shopping to pick up a duffel bag and a few toiletries and other essentials that she hadn’t been able to bring back on the plane. Fortunately, she’d bought a jacket and rain boots in Ireland that would be perfect for the Pacific Northwest. Since she’d planned to spend the next few weeks creating new products, and she’d lost everything in the fire, she also dropped into Earthwise Soapmania, where she filled two boxes with basic organic ingredients.
She and Shelby spent the rest of the day at the beach, eating a going-away lunch while admiring—and scoring on a 1-10 scale—tanned and buff surfers and volleyball players.
The sun was already setting into the Pacific when Jolene received the text that the investigators were through with the fire scene and she could retrieve her car. Which she immediately did, then followed Shelby back to the Venice house.
“Since Étienne’s working tonight, we’re on our own. And, I may or may not have the DVD to the best girlfriend movie ever.”
“Let me guess. Beaches.”
“Well, we could watch runner-up Romy and Michele’s High School Reunion, that would probably be more suitable, given that you’re going back to where you’ll run into all those girls from high school—”
“Please. I’m trying not to think about that.”
“Beaches it is. Why don’t you take those shopping bags up and finish packing while I set up the DVD player, change into jammies and get out the ice cream.”
“You’re on. I think I’ll also call Mom before it’s too late. Besides, I don’t want to talk with her when I’m crying like a baby after watching that tearjerker.”
“We’ll be strong.”
“Says the girl who cries at Sleepless in Seattle.”
“That’s an emotional love story!”
“It’s a crazy woman stalker story.”
“Cynical,” Shelby repeated. “The movie’s a classic. Because, unless you have a heart of stone, most of us secretly hope that something crazy and magical can happen and we’ll fall in love and live happily ever after.”
“I’m honestly glad you’ve found a man who’ll give you that,” Jolene said. “And, I’m not so stone-hearted or cynical that I don’t believe that you and Ètienne are a rare couple that will make it. But—” she shrugged “—I guess I just don’t have the love gene.”
“Remind me of this when you invite me to be your matron of honor.”
Jolene laughed. “Not going to happen.”
Once upstairs, she changed, finished packing, then sat down on the bed to call her mother. “Hey, Mom,” she said when Gloria Wells answered. “How are things going?”
“I was just about to call you,” Gloria said. “I’ve been a little preoccupied lately, you know, getting the spa opened and working on my social network presence—Did I tell you I joined the Honeymoon Harbor women’s business association?”
“No, but that’s great.” And hopefully might give her some allies in her battle to get her mother in for that recheck.
“I went to my first meeting yesterday. Brianna hosted this month’s luncheon at Herons Landing. And by the way, she probably outdid Martha Stewart in Thanksgiving decorating. It was fun. And informative.
“We voted to all have booths in the barn the Saturday after Thanksgiving at the Mannions’ annual Christmas farm holiday festival and give out numbered cards for people to fill with numbered stamps, one from each of our booth. Then, when it’s filled, they put it in a big bowl. It doesn’t cost anything to enter, then at the end of the day, we’re having a big drawing of products or services from each of our businesses. I’m giving away a spa day and hair and nails makeover for my share of the grand prize, and selling sample kits of your skin care line to an
yone who stops by my booth for a stamp.”
“That’s a wonderful idea. And should boost Christmas sales.”
“That’s the plan. Brianna thought it up. She’d read about it in one of her books on ways a bed-and-breakfast can work with other businesses to create a cooperative environment. The Mannions are donating trees for various social groups to decorate by theme. They’ll be finished the night before the festival and will be auctioned off to raise money for various community organizations like the food pantry, the Boys and Girls Club, and the after school program.”
Knowing that Brianna Mannion had left a high profile job in Las Vegas as a hotel concierge who catered to high rollers to return to Honeymoon Harbor and open Herons Landing, Jolene figured she probably knew a lot about the hospitality business.
“I’m sure it’ll be a smashing success.”
“So, like I said, I’ve been really busy, which is how I didn’t even hear about your breakup until gossipy Mildred Marshall came in for a cut and perm today. I think she loved being the first to tell me. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s no big deal. Seriously. Chad and I had reached our sell-by date anyway.”
“Well, I’m glad you don’t sound heartbroken. Of course I’d never met him personally, but from how he was always getting himself in magazines and gossip columns, he didn’t seem like the best husband material. You need to find a man good enough to spend your life with.”
This from the woman who’d married the entirely wrong man for all the wrong reasons, but now, as the women’s lunch report proved, seemed to be doing just fine on her own. Except for that damn breast lump that her mother didn’t know Jolene knew about.
“I’ll try to fit that in,” she said mildly, not wanting to get into a discussion that could go so wrong on the phone. “Meanwhile, I called to tell you that I’m coming up for a visit.”
“To Honeymoon Harbor? But you were here just here a few months ago.” An occasion as rare as snow in LA. “What’s wrong?”
Her mother had reason to be suspicious. But she also didn’t sound as if she were doing cartwheels. Probably because she realized that she’d never be able to keep her secret safe in a small town whose Facebook page was probably the first thing most people turned to for their morning news. If it turned out she did need treatment, it would be all over town in a heartbeat.
“Nothing.” Jolene hoped. “I was just thinking while flying back from Ireland how much fun we had when I was back home this summer.”
“Weddings are always fun.”
If you discounted everyone coming up to assure you that one of these days, you, too, would find your perfect match, wear a princess gown and toss a bouquet of flowers at a group of women seeming willing to do anything to up their odds of finding their own Prince Charming. As happy as she’d been for Kylee and Mai, that particular wedding turned out to be especially uncomfortable, thanks to Aiden Mannion showing up.
“Anyway, I’m between projects and want to work on my business plan for my skin care line, so I was thinking until after the new year would be a perfect time to get away. And hey, maybe even some of the women in your group would have some marketing ideas.”
“I’m sure they would.” Yep, her tone suggested she wasn’t entirely on board with the program. Jolene had planned to wait until she’d arrived to tell her about the fire, but decided she’d toss in the one thing she knew her mother wouldn’t be able to resist. “There’s something else.”
“Oh?”
“There was a fire in my apartment building yesterday.”
“Oh, no! Why didn’t you tell me right away instead of letting me babble about my silly businesswomen’s lunch?”
“It’s not silly and I’m truly happy about your networking.”
“Forget the networking. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. I wasn’t even home yet. But it appears to be a total loss. So, essentially, I’m homeless.”
“You’ll never be homeless,” Gloria said. “Not as long as I’m alive.” And didn’t that cause a frisson of fear to skim up Jolene’s spine? She didn’t even want to think about losing her mother. “Of course you need to come home right away. It is, after all, your house.”
“Mom. It’s not my house.”
“Well, technically not, since it’s not the one you grew up in. Or the manufactured one you paid for, which I was able to get enough money from when it sold the very first day to pay Seth to remodel this place. So, you helped pay for this one, as well.”
“With money I earned because you were such a great role model and encouraged me to take those beauty classes. So, let’s stop arguing about who owes who what, and just enjoy the holidays.”
There was a long enough pause that had Jolene looking down at her phone to ensure they hadn’t lost the connection. Although, as she’d told Shelby, Honeymoon Harbor did have cell service, it could be iffy.
“That sounds like fun. I’ll fix up your room. And make pot roast.”
“Am I dying?”
Her mother laughed at the line from the Gilmore Girls episode when Rory had questioned her grandmother about why she’d had her cook a pot roast, which had turned out to because Emily Gilmore had invited the Reverend Boatwright to dinner to give twenty-one-year-old Rory the Sex Talk.
“Aren’t I a little old for you to be worrying about my sex life?”
They’d always laughed at the place where the reverend explained to Rory that her virtue was her most precious gift and how, if she gave it away too soon, to the wrong man, when the right man came along, she’d have no gift to give. So she’d have to buy him a sweater instead.
As humorous as it had been, it had opened up a mother-daughter discussion about safe sex that included her mother assuring Jolene that despite having become a mother at seventeen, she was the best thing that had ever happened to her.
“Well, as Rory told the good reverend, my ultimate gift ship has long sailed, Mom.”
“I’m shocked... And are you accusing me of using pot roast as a ploy to bring up the topic of you someday getting pregnant?”
“No, but you can’t deny that you’ve been angling for grandchildren.”
“I have not,” Gloria said, not quite truthfully. “You’ve made yourself very clear that the best I could hope for, preferably, before I’m in my dotage living at Harbor Hill nursing home is a grandpuppy.”
“It’s assisted senior living.” Jolene knew because while going to school she’d done events there for the women residents. It had been amazing what a little blush, a new lipstick and a haircut could do for morale. “Besides, you know I’d never put you in a nursing home.”
Yet while she couldn’t imagine her mother growing old, dotage was definitely more appealing than losing her to cancer. Jolene was going to get her to that damn recheck if she had to drag her there kicking and screaming.
“And getting back to the pot roast,” Gloria said, “I merely thought it’d be a nice dinner to have on rainy fall night. I can put it in the Crock-Pot before I go to work.”
“That sounds good.” The roast had always been saved for special occasions, causing a twinge of guilt that a visit home could be considered an event. Her mother had always been there for her, but by leaving Honeymoon Harbor, she’d essentially cut the most important person in her life out of her life.
Now, forced to consider a future without her mother in it at all, Jolene worried that because she’d admittedly wanted a different, more secure life for herself than Gloria had experienced, she hoped her mom didn’t think she looked down on her in any way.
Which wasn’t the case. But how could she explain that returning to Honeymoon Harbor was like returning to the scene of a near fatal accident?
“What’s your itinerary?” Gloria asked, dragging Jolene’s mind away from a memory flash of Aiden, bruised fists clenched, a thunderstorm moving across his face.
> “I’m leaving early tomorrow morning. I thought I’d spend the night in Oregon. There’s an organic floral farm in the Willamette Valley where I get a lot of precious oils.”
“Oh, I was so relieved you weren’t hurt I didn’t think about your oils. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s just stuff,” she repeated. Not like losing her mother. That she had no intention of doing anytime soon.
After assuring her mother she’d call after she’d stopped once she settled into a motel room tomorrow night, and yes, she had the numbers for her mother’s cell, and the landline she’d kept due to iffy cell service in spots on the peninsula, she went back downstairs, where Shelby was waiting with the DVD player on Pause and two pints of Ben & Jerry’s Chocolate Caramel Cheesecake.
Two hours and three minutes later, they’d nearly gone through a box of Kleenex and all the ice cream. Along with a bag of white chocolate-covered pretzels Shelby had stashed away for PMS therapy.
“If you ever got viral cardiomyopathy like Hillary, I’d give you my heart,” Jolene said.
“You couldn’t. Because then you’d be the one who dies in the end.”
“But you’re nicer, so you should be the one to live. You said it yourself—I’m cynical. Just like C.C.”
“At least we’ll always have today’s sunset.”
“I’m didn’t want to say anything, but I’m pretty sure I heard Bette Midler singing ‘Wind Beneath my Wings’ as the sun sank into the water.” Jolene reached into the pocket of her pajama pants and pulled out her phone. “We don’t have a photo both like Hillary and C.C., but we do have burst mode.”
She lifted the phone, and still weeping, and laughing, shot the series of selfies.
“Hashtag BFFs forever.”
CHAPTER FIVE
“WHAT THE HELL did you think you were doing?” Although it took every ounce of patience he possessed, Aiden reminded himself that blowing up at the deputy police chief he’d inherited from his predecessor wouldn’t be a wise officer management move.
