Snowfall on Lighthouse Lane

by JoAnn Ross

  To her surprise, her mother’s eyes misted. “This is,” she said on a voice that wavered with emotion, “the best holiday season of my life.”

  “Mine, too,” Jolene said, feeling her own tears threatening. Damn. Where was Aiden with his camo handkerchief when you needed him?

  * * *

  THE DAY OF the festival dawned gray and foggy with intermittent sprinkles that were not enough to keep visitors away. While the Mannions were selling trees and other greenery like crazy, the barn was also crowded with Honeymoon Harbor locals as well as people from neighboring towns on the peninsula.

  Jolene, who’d honestly been a bit uneasy about talking with people, especially those she’d gone to school with who’d either ignored or bullied her, found herself enjoying the day. The barn was packed, with everyone going from booth to booth, spending their money while picking up stamps for a chance at the grand prize.

  “Why that makes my hand just as smooth as a baby’s bottom,” Donna, who typically had weekends off with 911 calls either being sent to Aiden’s cell or the sheriff’s department, said. “I’ll take one of those pretty gold sample bags, but I’ll be in next Wednesday to buy a jumbo-size bottle.” She grinned wickedly. “Give my Hank a holiday surprise.”

  While Gloria was happily chatting with Winnie from the market and going through all the things that were in the bag with her, another woman about Jolene’s age came up to the booth. She looked vaguely familiar, but Jolene couldn’t quite place her.

  “I’m Ashley Winters,” she introduced herself.

  Ah. A member of Madison’s beehive. Reminding herself that those high school days were long behind her, Jolene managed a smile. “I remember you,” she said, reaching into the basket behind her and taking out a gold bag. “Are you interested in a sample kit, or would you just like a stamp?”

  “I intend to buy one,” the petite, slender brunette in the red parka, black jeans and tall plaid boots, which, if they weren’t Burberry were a good knockoff, said. “But I mostly came over to ask if you had a moment to talk privately.”

  “Um. Sure,” Jolene said with a glance at Gloria, whom she noticed was watching them with an eagle eye. Or that of a mama grizzly prepared to protect her cub.

  “I can handle things,” Gloria said. “The crowd’s thinning out a bit while everyone goes over to the tent to get some lunch.”

  Along with the Mannion’s grilled burgers and fries, Taco the Town had set up its truck; Kira’s Fish House was selling bowls of clam and potato chowder; Sensation Cajun had opted to go with po’boy sandwiches; Leaf was proving vegan can please even the carnivores in the crowd with their loaded vegan nachos by topping tortilla chips with rice, beans, juicy tomatoes, spicy chilies and corn; while Luca’s Kitchen drew in the dessert crowd with a crispy cannoli that had chocolate chips, seasonal allspice and cinnamon added to the cream filling, then was dusted with powdered sugar. One thing was for certain, no one would be leaving hungry.

  Not knowing what she was letting herself in for, but hoping it wouldn’t be horrid, Jolene followed Ashley outside and over to where she’d parked, and prepared herself for the worst.

  “It’s been a long time,” Ashley said.

  “Several years,” Jolene agreed.

  “Congratulations on your Emmy.”

  “It was a nomination. Not a win.”

  “But still, there are so many shows, and so many episodes every year, that’s an amazing accomplishment. You must be very proud.”

  “I am.”

  “I always wanted to be a reporter. You know, like Barbara Walters. Or Diane Sawyer. Maybe Katie Couric, though I hate early mornings.” She sighed. “But I ended up here writing for the Herald, that probably gets fewer readers than the town’s Facebook page.”

  “You’re still doing what you love, right?” Jolene said. “How many people get to be reporters at all? Especially women.”

  “That’s true. I read about you signing that letter. I was impressed.”

  “Thank you.” Jolene was still wondering when she was going to get to the point. None of this couldn’t have been said at the booth. Especially since, as her mother had pointed out, the crowd had moved in a herd over to the food booths.

  “I was wondering if I could interview you. About your work, and how you broke into the business, and, of course the Emmy...” She paused. “And, if you’d be willing to talk about it, maybe why you signed that letter.”

  “Sure.” It was beginning to sink in. “Have you always been at the Herald?”

  “Um. No. I started out working for UWTV in college. Where I may have had more viewers than readers here. After graduation, I got a job in Boise, then worked my way across the Midwest for a while until landing in Phoenix, then some California stations, but New York or DC were my ultimate goal.”

  “But?”

  Her smile held no humor. “I’d always had to put up with jokes, and stuff, because, you know...guys.”

  Jolene nodded “I do know. All too well.”

  “Yeah. I suppose you would, from what’s come out about the movie industry. Anyway, at one place, things got, well, nasty and physical. But it came down to a he said/she said thing.”

  “So nothing ever happened.”

  “Well, I guess something did. Because since he’d been voted best anchor in the city for ten years running, and I was the new girl, I got fired and here I am. But I’m sorry, that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. I just got sidetracked. Sometimes it just gets in your head. Like a flashback.”

  “I’ve been there.” One reason Jolene had stuck to men that she didn’t care all that much about was that they mostly served as a buffer. A male who might be seen as being in her corner if anyone tried things. It didn’t always work, but she had found it made some difference. Especially when said boyfriend worked in the industry.

  “The reason I wanted to talk with you was to apologize.”

  “Okay.”

  “About the way I acted. I was a shy kid when I moved here from Spokane, not knowing anyone. But I was pretty—not that you weren’t, in fact you were gorgeous and didn’t look like anyone else in town, which was why so many girls were jealous, but—”

  “I get it,” Jolene lied. Seriously? The mean girls had been jealous?

  “Anyway, Madison invited me into her clique. And I felt like I belonged somewhere so being new was easier. But I never felt good about the way you were treated. I was just afraid of being kicked out of the group. Of being on my own again.”

  As she’d been. Except for Brianna, who’d already had her own circle with Kylee and Zoe. Jolene thought back and couldn’t remember any bullying Ashley had participated in. That didn’t make her blameless. But Jolene also realized that it was past time to shake off the last of those days. Still, although it might be petty and cruel, she still would’ve loved to have blended some poison ivy into Madison’s avocado face cream sample.

  “So.” Ashley let out a long breath. “I’m sorry. I should have been a better person and I hope you’ll forgive me for not being braver and standing up for you.”

  “It was high school,” Jolene said. “It’s a wonder any of us survive those years.”

  “Thank you. And thank you for not making this any harder on me. Which you had a perfect right to do.”

  “Believe me, Ashley, you haven’t met mean girls until you’ve worked in Hollywood.”

  “There was an anchorwoman in Phoenix who was much beloved by viewers and always voted their favorite who’d often had stomping-high-heel temper tantrums during commercial breaks,” Ashley said. “Once she threw a heavy glass paperweight and hit a cameraman in the head. She just barely missed his eye. Then, without missing a beat and ignoring the blood streaming from his cut, while one of the assistant producers was madly dabbing at his wound with a paper towel, the bitch of an anchorwoman sat back down at the desk, smiled broadly a
nd welcomed the next guest as if nothing had happened.”

  As bad as she felt for the poor cameraman, Jolene laughed. “Well,” she said, “now that we’ve bonded over work horror stories, want to go get a couple burgers? I have an in with the owner, who’ll probably let us jump the line if you interview him while he’s grilling.”

  Ashley grinned. “Though I’ve truly turned over a new leaf and frown on line jumping, I am starving. And, as it happens, I have an in at Mannion’s, too. I’m dating the chef.”

  “Jarle?” Jolene tried to picture this petite brunette with the former fishing boat cook who any casting director would’ve loved to cast as a wild Viking marauder.

  This time it was Ashley’s turn to laugh. “I know. We’re definitely an odd couple, but although Jarle looks as if he could break The Rock in half like a matchstick, he has a marshmallow heart. Maybe the four of us could double date sometime. You and Aiden, Jarle and me.”

  “There’s not an Aiden and me,” Jolene said.

  “Of course there is,” Ashley said easily. “And believe me, Madison is not at all pleased about that.”

  And didn’t that revelation please Jolene? Talk about being high school petty.

  As they reached the grills where Jarle and Quinn appeared to be having an Iron Chef challenge to show off their burger-flipping skills to an appreciative crowd, Jolene linked arms with Ashley. “I think,” she said, quoting Bogart’s famous last line from Casablanca, “this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

  * * *

  BY THREE O’CLOCK that afternoon, Jolene had felt as if she’d worked for days. She’d forgotten how it had felt to stand on her feet all day. And she’d been behind the booth for only five hours, with a short break for lunch. Her mother, on the other hand, was still going like the Energizer Bunny, which Jolene suspected was partly a burst of adrenaline energy from relief at the good news.

  She began to pack up the empty boxes. The fact that they’d sold out of sample bags before the drawing for the grand prize—won by a third grade teacher at the new and improved Roosevelt Elementary school—had Jolene thinking again about Seth’s suggestion regarding remodeling the old school building into a workshop for her products. Which was difficult to do when every coherent thought whooshed out of her head as Aiden approached the booth.

  “Hey there,” he said, glancing over at the boxes. “Looks like you did okay.”

  “We did. I’d wondered if I’d been overly optimistic when I bought so much packaging before coming up here, but we could have sold a lot more if we’d had another hour. Of course, I’d probably be dead by then. I thought my job was hard, always making sure everyone looked good and the same for every take. But I don’t believe I’ve ever talked so much and for so long ever in my life.”

  “That explains the husky voice.” He did that slow smiling thing with his mouth and his eyes that she imagined could still hold power over her when she was rocking on the porch in some old folks’ home for retired makeup artists. “Here I was hoping it was for me.”

  “Goodness,” Gloria said suddenly. “I forgot to put the chicken in the Crock-Pot for the chicken and dumplings I’d planned tonight.” That was the first Jolene had heard about any chicken dinner. “Why don’t I just run over to the food booths before they all close and pick us up some takeout?” She was off before Jolene could say a word, causing Aiden’s dimples to deepen at her total lack of subtlety.

  “Don’t do that,” Jolene complained. “I’m too exhausted to handle all those killer pheromones you’re throwing at me.”

  “Sorry.” This time his grin was quick and just as dangerous. “I dropped in to see if you wanted to go out tomorrow night. You did agree to a date.”

  “You asked me out,” she teased. “I don’t remember agreeing.”

  “I was hoping you wouldn’t remember that part. We can have dinner, anywhere you want, then go to the tree lighting in the park.”

  Honeymoon Harbor always had two official tree lighting ceremonies. One the Sunday night after Thanksgiving in the park, and a second one down at the harbor the night of the boat parade. The Mannions always supplied the park tree. The one at the harbor was created by crab fishermen from crab pots stacked in a pyramid shape.

  “I’d like that. But I wouldn’t want to leave Mom to go to the lighting alone.”

  “Look over there,” he said, nodding to the far side of the barn near the food booths where Mike Mannion and her mother were talking. Jolene suspected it was not the heat from Mannion’s grill that had Gloria’s cheeks flushing. “My uncle is asking your mom the same question I just asked you and I have a feeling he’s getting much the same answer.”

  Damn. He was right again when her mother looked across the emptying barn. Her mother deserved this, Jolene told herself as she nodded and gave a thumbs-up. Blowing her a kiss, Gloria turned back to Mike.

  “You Mannion men just doubled-teamed us,” Jolene said.

  “Tell me you’re sorry about that.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t.”

  “So, that’s a yes?”

  “I guess it is.”

  He rubbed his jaw. “I can’t remember when I’ve received a more enthusiastic response to an offer to take a woman to dinner,” he said.

  “I didn’t mean it to sound like that. It’s just...” What?

  Having had such a roller-coaster life growing up, Jolene preferred to be the one in control. Both in her personal and business lives. She’d never felt that way with Aiden. Yet, for some reason, as her hormones were screaming “What are you waiting for?” She couldn’t think of a logical answer.

  “You just realized you don’t have any reason to turn me down.”

  “I could turn you down for being so damn smug.”

  “But you won’t. Because you want to be with me as much as I want to be with you. And you’re too smart to cut off your cute nose to spite that lovely face.”

  He’d taken off his leather gloves and stuck them in his pocket, allowing him to trail a warm finger down her cheek. Then he bent his head, kissed that cheek, her nose, and finally her mouth, which, responding right on cue, clung to his.

  It wasn’t that long a kiss. Not long enough to embarrass a couple in public. Not that they were a couple. But, she knew, that by going to dinner and the tree lighting tomorrow night, by the time that switch was pulled to turn on the lights, every person in Honeymoon Harbor would have decided they were together.

  And would that be so bad? It wasn’t like their relationship was going to be permanent.

  She’d be leaving Honeymoon Harbor January second. And besides, there was always the chance that she’d exaggerated what having sex with Aiden Mannion would be like. Perhaps, when they did go to bed, as they both knew they would, it would turn out not to match her heightened expectation.

  As if that could happen, she thought, as she found herself drowning in his blue eyes. Just like maybe it’d snow on Christmas this year. As a girl, she’d always hoped for a snow day from school. Unfortunately, the odds of a white Christmas in this rainy, Northwest part of the country tended to range from 6 to a very rare 10 percent.

  “So,” he said, “now that you can’t put me off any longer, where would you like to go?”

  It took only a minute. “Mannion’s,” she said. The pub might not be the fanciest first date place, but it was where anyone they knew who was going out tomorrow night would probably end up, so she’d no longer be Aiden Mannion’s secret girlfriend. Another thing it had going for it was that, short of Taco the Town, it was the most casual place to eat, meaning she wouldn’t have to worry about dressing up.

  “Mannion’s it is,” he said. “As it happens, I’ve already reserved a waterfront window. Just in case you said yes.”

  “And if I’d said no?”

  “I’d have sat alone at the bar and moped into my nonalcoholic beer.”


  Once again she wondered about his reason for that nonalcoholic beer, but as his head swooped down again, this kiss hard and quick, but still possessing the power to curl her toes, she decided this wasn’t the place or time to ask if he had a drinking problem. She certainly hadn’t seen any sign of that. Maybe, she considered, it was because he seemed to be on duty 24/7 and needed to stay sober.

  “Since it gets dark early, and kids have school the next day, they’re going to light the tree at seven on the dot. I realize it’s probably earlier than you’re used to in LA, but we’re not all that movie-biz trendy here, so how about I pick you up at the lighthouse cottage at five thirty?”

  “I’ve never been movie-biz trendy,” she said. Those few weeks with Chad and his ever-present, camera-flashing paparazzi had taught her that she wouldn’t want to be. “I’ll be ready.”

  This time his fingers traced around her lips. Lips that could still taste the coffee and a sweetness that must have come from the cannoli he’d eaten before coming up to the booth. “Me, too,” he said.

  And with that promise of dinner and a whole lot more lingering in the air, he strolled away, whistling.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  AMANDA’S KNEES WERE literally shaking as she walked down the hallway of the University of Washington Medical Center burn unit floor the Sunday after Thanksgiving. The doctor she’d spoken with had told her that burn units usually had more experience and facilities to treat frostbite because the procedures were much the same.

  Although she’d talked to Eric briefly on the phone, she’d waited until today to visit him, telling herself that she was allowing his parents and sister, Jan (whom she’d called as soon as Aiden had called her, letting her know he was being brought to Seattle), to have family time with him after his surgery. She’d never shared what their life had been like with them, but from the resigned tone of his mother and father on the phone, it sounded as if they weren’t all that surprised. That had been a relief, suggesting what Aiden Mannion, the counselor at the hospital, and the woman at the safe house she was still living in had already told her. That she hadn’t done anything to trigger his episodes.