Keepsake

by Antoinette Stockenberg

  "He's just a late bloomer, that's all. Some people are like that. Look at you," Quinn said, slipping his arm around her shoulder and sneaking a kiss. "Getting better every day."

  "I feel like an elephant at a tea party," she grumped. "I want this baby born. Now."

  "Hey, watch what you're saying," said Quinn. He leaned over Olivia's stomach and said through cupped hands, "She didn't mean that. There's no hurry. Anytime after the weekend is fine."

  "Oh, stop," said Olivia, laughing, as she batted him on the head. "Ah, there's Eileen. Over here!" she cried, but she needn't have. Kristin had spotted her cousin and was speeding like a cheetah toward the stroller.

  Olivia got out her wet wipes and went to work, handing over a less sticky but still chocolate-covered little girl to her bigger-girl cousin. She watched with pleasure as the two of them went romping on the green, with Zack on the sidelines trying to look cool but itching to join the fun.

  Yes. This is as it should be.

  Eileen had the same thought. "Thank God we all toughed it out."

  "I think of that every single day," Olivia said, turning in surprise to her sister-in-law. "Every single day."

  Quinn could see girl talk coming; he excused himself and wandered off toward the book sale table.

  "Is your father here yet?" asked Eileen.

  "He will be. I don't think he's ever missed a Memorial Day ceremony. And this year there's Quinn's stone wall. He'll feel obligated."

  "He does have a way of soldiering on. Who would have thought he'd keep the mill in Keepsake this long?"

  "Oh, he won't relocate the mill anymore."

  "Too old to do it?"

  "My father, too old? Hardly. I think keeping it here is his way of compensating Keepsake for the ... inconvenience ... our family has caused people," Olivia said with a dry smile. "Even if he is going slowly broke doing it."

  "Mm." Eileen sipped her Snapple through a straw and sat back with a thoughtful sigh. "Any chance that your mother will show?"

  Olivia shook her head. "Once you become a recluse, it becomes harder and harder to go anywhere. Mom has scarcely been out to buy a quart of milk in the past couple of years; I can't imagine she'd suddenly show up at a town event like this. In fact—"

  A grating screech from the sound system being tested brought everyone to attention: The memorial was about to be dedicated. The two women gathered up their children and their men, and they joined Father Tom and Mrs. Dewsbury and Chief Vickers and the rest of the townspeople assembling in front of the low fieldstone wall that Quinn had built behind the flagpole on Town Hill—the same flagpole from which Olivia's velvet cape had hung in scarlet ribbons, one sleet-driven night.

  But that was in another lifetime, as far as Olivia was concerned. Quinn had said it best: all's well that ends well. She slipped her arm through his, and they stood with Eileen and Rand and their children in the front of the crowd, on the left side of the memorial.

  "I guess my dad's not coming," Olivia said, scanning the assembly. She was both surprised and disappointed.

  Mayor Mike Macoun, newly re-elected and on his last term, began a long and heartfelt speech about patriotism. It was the Memorial Day weekend, after all, and the stone wall was being dedicated to men and women from Keepsake who had died in service to their country. Everyone stood respectfully, trying to reconcile thoughts of war with the wonderfully fine evening and friendly gathering.

  They nodded when the mayor effused over Quinn's generous contribution of time and material in the creation of the fieldstone memorial that would grace Town Hill for centuries. The low V-shaped wall was beautifully made with no visible mortar and had been the talk of the town for weeks. Quinn had built it as a labor of love, but ironically, everyone who could afford one suddenly wanted one: He had been turning down commissions left and right.

  After a round of grateful applause, the mayor cleared his throat and added, "We're here today to honor Keepsake's fallen heroes, but there are two of ours whose heroism has never been properly acknowledged, and now seems like the proper time to do it.

  "Twenty years ago come October," he said, "Francis Leary and his son—the man who built this wall—were instrumental in saving the lives of a dozen women and children and elderly in a terrible bus accident near Harrisburg, Pennsylvania."

  His words were electrifying. Olivia didn't dare look at Quinn. She didn't have to, to know the surge of emotion he was experiencing. She could feel it in the hand that was holding hers, hear it in his quickened breath.

  "A lot of us have heard about the incident," the mayor continued, "but we haven't rightly figured out how to acknowledge it. Well, due to the hard work and generosity of a prominent citizen who wishes to remain anonymous, the Keepsake Memorial Commission has been able to locate and fly in several of the survivors from that terrible time. They're here with us today, and I would like to introduce them to you now. Here are: Rhyanna White Johnson, Martin Lindsey, and Christy Ptak."

  The mayor motioned for the three to join him at the speaker's podium, and they came shyly forward. Then he turned to Quinn and said with a smile, "Quinn? I think these folks have something they'd like to say to you."

  The mayor stepped back. For an awful second, Olivia was afraid that Quinn might refuse to step out from the crowd. But he was acting on behalf of his father now; he had no choice. Flushing deeply, he walked up to the podium.

  Rhyanna White Johnson, a beautifully poised black woman in her thirties, recognized Quinn instantly. She let out a cry and opened her arms wide as he approached, engulfing him in a bear hug. Martin Lindsey, two generations older and obviously frail, hung back until it was safe, and then he took Quinn's hand in both of his and thanked him quietly and repeatedly.

  Christy Ptak, who could not have been more than Jessie's age when Quinn and his father pulled her from the bus, was the last to come forward. She couldn't have understood in any profound way that she was standing there because of the heroism of a father and his son; possibly she was there because it was a free trip out east, a lark with meals and lodging thrown in. But she was the one of the three who seemed to have moved Quinn most deeply. His mouth compressed in a tight line of emotion as he nodded and accepted her tentative hug.

  He's thinking like a father ... he's thinking of Jessie ... Oh, Quinn ... how I love you.

  Tears were running freely now; Olivia heard the mayor's announcement that a memorial plaque would be installed at the base of the flagpole to honor Francis Leary. She lifted her hands to wipe her eyes, because she didn't want to miss any of it, not a look, not a smile.

  But letting go of Jessie's hand had an inevitable result: The child, set free, took off at a gallop, heading not for her father at the podium, but for the opposite side of the semi-circled crowd.

  "Oh, Jessie, wait—!"

  And then Olivia saw where she was headed. Owen Bennett was standing soldier-straight in the space behind where the survivors had been waiting.

  And next to him, his wife.

  "Gammy, Gammy, Gammy!"

  Teresa Bennett turned from the podium to the fat-legged child making a beeline for her. She dropped down low and held out her arms, and some of the old joy, and all of the old radiance, returned to her face as she hugged her granddaughter tight.

  More for your Nook by Antoinette Stockenberg

  (Select the book title to purchase from Barnes & Noble)

  Available for your Nook April 2012.

  A Month at the Shore

  " An addictive, captivating story of love, family and trust."

  -- Romance Reviews Today

  Laura Shore has fled her humble past on Cape Cod and made a name for herself on the opposite coast. But when she returns and joins forces with her two siblings to try to save Shore Gardens, the failing family nursery, she finds that she hasn't left the past behind at all. Kendall Barclay, the town's rich son and her childhood knight in shining armor, lives there still, and his hold over Laura is as strong as ever. Like a true knight, he's attentive,
courteous, and ready to help -- until a discovery is made that threatens the family, the nursery, and Laura's deepening relationship with him.

  Select here to read the prologue and five sample chapters of A Month at the Shore.

  Safe Harbor

  "Complex … fast-moving …humorous … tender"

  --Publishers Weekly

  SAFE HARBOR. That's what Martha's Vineyard has always been for Holly Anderson, folk artist, dreamer and eternal optimist. If she could just afford to buy the house and barn she's renting, fall in love, marry the guy and then have children as sweet as her nieces, life would be pretty much perfect.

  Poor Holly. She has so much to learn.

  Select here to read two sample chapters of Safe Harbor.

  A Charmed Place

  "Buy this book! A truly fantastic read!"

  --Suzanne Barr, Gulf Coast Woman

  USA TODAY bestselling author Antoinette Stockenberg delivers an original and wonderfully romantic story of two people -- college lovers separated for twenty years -- who have the chance to be happy together at last. But family, friends, an ex-husband, a teenaged daughter and an unsolved murder seem destined to keep the lovers star-crossed, until Dan takes up residence in the Cape Cod lighthouse, with Maddie's rose-covered cottage just a short walk away ...

  Select here to read a sample chapter of A Charmed Place.

  Beloved

  "Richly rewarding … a novel to be savored."

  --Romantic Times Magazine

  A Nantucket cottage by the sea: the inheritance is a dream come true for Jane Drew. Too bad it comes with a ghost —and a soulfully seductive neighbor who'd just as soon boot Jane off the island.

  Select here to read two sample chapters of Beloved.

  Embers

  "A deft blend of mystery and romance … sure to win more kudos"

  --Publishers Weekly

  To Meg Hazard, it seemed like a good idea at the time: squeezing her extended family into the back rooms of their rambling Victorian home and converting the rest of the house into a Bed and Breakfast in the coastal town of Bar Harbor, Maine. Paying guests are most welcome, but the arrival of a Chicago cop on medical leave turns out to be both good news and bad news for Meg and the Inn Between.

  Select here to read two sample chapters of Embers.

  Time After Time

  "As hilarious as it is heart-tugging ... a rollicking great read."

  --I'll Take Romance

  In Gilded-Age Newport, an upstairs-downstairs romance between a well-born son and a humble maid is cut short of marriage. A hundred years later, the descendants of that ill-fated union seem destined to repeat history. Or not.

  Emily's Ghost

  RITA Award Winner

  "Booksellers' recommended read."

  --Publishers Weekly

  A showdown between a U.S. Senator (with a house on Martha's Vineyard) who believes in ghosts and a reporter who doesn't. What could possibly go wrong?

  Beyond Midnight

  "Full of charm and wit, Stockenberg's latest is truly enthralling."

  --Publishers Weekly

  In 1692, Salem, Massachusetts was the setting for the infamous persecution of innocents accused of witchcraft. Three centuries later, little has changed. Helen Evett, widowed mother of two and owner of a prestigious preschool in town, finds her family, her fortunes, and her life's work threatened —all because she feels driven to protect the sweet three-year-old daughter of a man who knows everything about finance but not so much about fathering.

  About the Author

  USA Today bestselling novelist Antoinette Stockenberg grew up wanting be a cowgirl and have her own horse (her great-grandfather bred horses for the carriage trade back in the old country), but the geography just didn't work out: there weren't many ranches in Chicago. Her other, more doable dream was to write books, and after stints as secretary, programmer, teacher, grad student, boatyard hand, office manager and magazine writer (in that order), she achieved that goal, writing over a dozen novels, several of them with paranormal elements. One of them is the RITA award-winning EMILY'S GHOST.

  Stockenberg's books have been published in a dozen languages and are often set in quaint New England harbor towns, always with a dose of humor. She writes about complex family relationships and the fallout that old, unearthed secrets can have on them. Sometimes there's an old murder. Sometimes there's an old ghost. Sometimes once-lovers find one another after half a lifetime apart.

  Her work has been compared to writers as diverse as Barbara Freethy, Nora Roberts, LaVyrle Spencer and Mary Stewart by critics and authors alike, and her novels have appeared on bestseller lists in USA Today as well as the national bookstore chains. Her website features sample chapters, numerous reviews, many photos, and an enchanting Christmas section.

  Visit her website at antoinettestockenberg.com to read sample chapters of all of her books.

  If you enjoyed reading this novel, please "Like" Antoinette Stockenberg's Facebook author page!

  A Month at the Shore Sample Prologue and Chapter 1

  Antoinette Stockenberg

  " An addictive, captivating story of love, family and trust."

  -- Romance Reviews Today

  Laura Shore has fled her humble past on Cape Cod and made a name for herself on the opposite coast. But when she returns and joins forces with her two siblings to try to save Shore Gardens, the failing family nursery, she finds that she hasn't left the past behind at all. Kendall Barclay, the town's rich son and her childhood knight in shining armor, lives there still, and his hold over Laura is as strong as ever. Like a true knight, he's attentive, courteous, and ready to help -- until a discovery is made that threatens the family, the nursery, and Laura's deepening relationship with him.

  Prologue

  The day after eighth-grade graduation was the best and worst of Kendall's life.

  He was minding his own business, which happened to be tracking down a snowy owl that had been sighted in a woods just outside of town, when he heard boys' voices farther up the trail.

  He was sorry to hear them. He didn't want to be caught with a pair of expensive binoculars around his neck and looking for birds, so he got back on his bike with every intention of leaving the way he had come: quietly. As he pedaled off, the voices got more shrill—whoops and yelps, the sounds of small-town kids on the warpath. He would be fair game for them, he knew from experience, so he picked up his pace.

  And then he heard the scream. It was a girl's cry, frightened and angry at the same time, and it sent chills up his back and arms. He slammed on the brakes so violently that his bike skidded on the soft path and went out from under him, falling on top of him and scraping across his pale, thin legs.

  He righted the bike, but his hands and legs were shaking as he mounted it again and set off in the direction of the scream. Part of him was hoping and praying that it was all just fooling around; but part of him knew better.

  He found them in a clearing next to the trail where he knew kids liked to hang out drinking and smoking—and, he had always assumed, having sex. Four boys had a girl cornered.

  She was standing in front of the campfire rocks. Ken couldn't see her very well because she was shielded by the four boys. They were practically shoulder to shoulder, but one pair of shoulders stood higher and broader than the rest: they belonged to Will Burton, the doctor's son, a bully who had squeezed more than one allowance out of Ken on a Friday afternoon. Will's younger, red-haired brother Dagger was there, too, and two other kids that Ken didn't recognize.

  "Hey!" he yelled at their backs, almost before he could think about it.

  They all turned around at the same time, surprised and therefore pissed. But Ken wasn't looking at them, he was looking at her. He was stunned to realize that she had breasts; how had he never noticed that? She was clutching her torn shirt to herself, but he could see her dark pink nipple. Instantly he looked away. When he looked back again immediately, he saw that her face was all flushed and her cheek
s were wet, and he felt desperately ashamed.

  "Leave her alone," he said in a voice filled with fury.

  Will Burton just laughed. "Ooh, I'm scared. What're you gonna do? Run and tell your daddy?"

  The other boys snickered and approached him as he stood astride his bike.

  He could have taken off. He didn't, because he wanted her to make a break for it. But she stayed right where she was! He couldn't believe it. She wasn't moving. It was like she was hypnotized or paralyzed or something. She was looking straight at him and nobody else. He was ashamed in advance for what he knew was going to happen to him.

  He became aware of the crack of branches underfoot as one of the boys he didn't know took up a position behind him. Instinctively he glanced over his shoulder at him. At the same instant, Dagger Burton grabbed his binoculars out of his bike basket.

  Dagger turned away and aimed the binoculars straight at her breasts while Ken and the others remained in their standoff. Everything seemed to go on hold while Dagger did his thing.

  "Shit, I can't see anything," Dagger said after fiddling with the adjustments. "Everything's blurry. I must be too close."

  Stupidly, Dagger began backing away from her in an attempt to get in better focus.

  So that left three.

  "Leave her alone," Ken said, controlling the quaver that hovered at the back of his voice. "Get out now, and I won't tell anyone."

  Will Burton was only a year older than Ken but just then seemed twice his size, minimum. He snorted and said, "Who's gonna make me? You—Skinnykenny? What a dork."