Cottage on Oceanview Lane
Page 1
Contents
Welcome to Emerald Cove
About This Book
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Excerpt: The Waratah Inn
Also by Lilly Mirren
Glossary of Terms
About the Author
Welcome to Emerald Cove
Read the duet in order…
* * *
Cottage on Oceanview Lane
Seaside Manor Bed & Breakfast
About This Book
When a renowned book editor returns to her roots, she rediscovers her strength & her passion in this heartwarming novel from the author of The Waratah Inn.
Sarah Flannigan is moving home to the small, beachside hamlet of Emerald Cove. After years in the city building a career as an editor at one of the top publishing houses in the country, she’s uprooting her life to help her mother run the family cafe after the divorce.
Cindy Flannigan never thought she’d find herself single and alone in her sixties, but when her husband runs off with a younger woman, she uncovers secret debts he’s accumulated that will leave her in dire financial straits for the first time in her life. She calls on her eldest child to help and is delightfully surprised when her daughter moves home to the Cove. But concerns for her daughter's future happiness soon mar the reunion.
Please note: This book is the first instalment in the continuing story of the Emerald Cove duet.
Chapter 1
Meg
The cool breeze lifted Meg Taylor's red curls from the back of her neck, tossing them wildly. She smiled and tented a hand above her eyes to squint at the curling waves. She should've brought her darker sunglasses. The ones she wore didn't cut through the glare enough for her to properly see what was going on, but she'd sat on the dark ones last week in her car and hadn't had time to buy a replacement set before the wedding. She was always doing things like that. It's why she didn't buy expensive sunglasses; they rarely lasted long.
The blare of the bullhorn startled her, and she laughed to herself. As the wife of Brad Taylor, international surfing champion, she'd have to get used to that sound. The voice of the announcer cut through the buzz of the crowd, detailing the water conditions, wave size, and backgrounds of the competitors as arms curved beside surfboards, pulling the surfers into the depths.
She blocked out all the noise and scanned the group of distant, colourful corks bobbing on the ocean’s surface to find her husband.
Her husband.
She liked the way the words sounded. Even in her head, they sent a thrill of delight along her spine that tingled and made her heart leap. They'd only been married a week and decided to honeymoon in Hawaii so Brad could compete in the Oahu championship before they headed home to Emerald Cove on the sunny northeastern New South Wales coastline.
It felt strange to be here, watching Brad on her own. Usually his parents would come too, maybe his brother. She'd gone with him to two other events, but always with his small entourage. Never on her own. Having just the two of them made this competition feel special in a way the others never had. At twenty-four and twenty-two years of age, they were now Mr and Mrs Taylor, and she was his entire support crew.
She rested a hand on her backpack. Water, snacks, a towel… She hoped she had everything he'd need. He was so relaxed about the whole thing he hadn't been much help. All he'd wanted to do was stay in the beach cottage they'd spent the past week inside. She'd objected - why come all the way to beautiful Hawaii to honeymoon if you were barely going to step foot outside? But she hadn't really minded. Her cheeks flushed with warmth at the memory of his kisses, of exploring each other the way they'd been able to do - unfettered, unchecked. She loved him so much. In ways she'd never imagined she'd be able to love someone else.
"Hi, Meg!" One of the other Australian surfers' wives, she couldn't remember the woman's name, sauntered past and waved, her blonde hair bobbing in a thin ponytail down her tanned back.
Meg waved in return, offering the woman a smile. "Nice day for it."
The woman nodded. "Brad's looking good, I think he's got a chance today."
Meg grinned. "I think so too. See ya."
The woman disappeared into the crowd, and Meg's attention returned to the group of tiny surfers floating beyond the break, waiting for the perfect wave.
The waves this week had been bigger than any waves she'd ever seen in her life. Emerald Cove was renowned for having great waves, but even Emerald Cove waves couldn't come close to the waves in this bay.
She lowered herself into a chair and foraged around in her bag for her hat. Her skin wasn't as fair as her sister's, but it was fair enough that she did her best to protect it from sun damage when she thought of it. Though, since arriving in Hawaii a week ago, she'd already noticed the sun didn't burn as harshly as it did back home in Australia.
With the hat firmly ensconced on her head, she studied the ocean once again. Several of the surfers had caught waves to shore. Most had crashed out, as the thick lips of the waves curved towards the churning ocean below, taking the surfers with them.
The sky was clear today, but the wind was high and the waves were unpredictable and rough. White water sprayed in the air as another wave crashed. The announcer cautioned everyone to be careful out there, and Meg's heart skipped a beat.
Brad was a professional. He surfed every day, had for most of his life. He'd grown up in Emerald Cove and moved to Brisbane after high school. She remembered him from when they were kids. She'd had a huge crush on the tanned athlete, who was so filled with confidence it made her heart ache just to watch him laughing with friends, playing touch football on the beach or surfing the biggest waves. When he moved away, she'd thought she'd never see him again. Then, a surfing competition in Emerald Cove had resulted in an encounter with Meg that'd changed both their lives.
That'd been over a year ago, and since then, their whirlwind romance had taken Meg by surprise. She still couldn't quite believe that world surfing champion Brad Taylor had fallen for her and was now her husband. She was just a hairdresser, a nobody, from the tiny beachside hamlet of Emerald Cove. Yet he loved her. The realisation surprised her during chance moments, whenever she let her mind wander back to memories of a childhood filled with pain, doubt and unfulfilled wishes.
"Can you believe these waves?" Alice Levin pulled a beach chair up beside her and sat with a huff, looping her arms around knees folded against her thin chest.
"I know, it's crazy."
"It's Hawaii." Alice chuckled. "Glad I'm not competing today though."
"Did you think about
surfing?" Meg often felt out of place in the group of Australian surfers, since most of the wives were surfers themselves or at least knew something about the sport. She knew almost nothing. She'd surfed herself, of course, having grown up at the beach, but had never competed or even watched a competition before the one where she'd met Brad. He'd told her that her complete lack of interest in him or his sport was what'd sparked his interest in her, that and her wild red curls.
"Nah…now that we have the three rug rats, it makes it pretty tricky if both of us compete. We tend to try and take turns, that way one of us is watching the kids." Alice's husband, Nick, was one of the older men in their crew of surfing champions. He was a household name, but in Meg's experience, he was down to earth, a thoughtful husband and a loving father to their three small children, who were, at that moment, seated on a picnic rug eating snacks out of a basket.
"I'm sure it's hard to manage it all…"
"You've got no idea." Alice sighed and ran a hand over her blonde hair. Freckles were scattered across her tanned face, and her blue eyes flashed above a pair of round sunglasses that hung low on the bridge of her nose. "They're only quiet while they have food in their mouths, so I figure I've got about three more minutes to talk, then I'll be on my feet chasing them again." She laughed.
When Meg turned her attention back to the surfers, she was dismayed to see Brad had already ridden a wave to shore while she'd been speaking with Alice. She sighed, then watched as a jet ski pulled him back out beyond the break.
"Oh, I missed it."
"Sorry, I'm distracting you."
"It's okay." She flashed a smile in Alice's direction, even as the woman jumped to her feet and rushed off after her escaping toddler.
The sun beat down on Meg's shoulders, and she reached for the sun cream to slather another thick layer over her exposed skin. The wind helped to keep the heat from becoming oppressive but was wreaking havoc with the tents and other structures that'd been set up by the event organisers. Men were hammering stakes into the sand, working to hold the temporary shelters in place. A few stray hats bowled across the dunes behind the crowd.
Meg inhaled a slow breath as memories of the morning washed over her. Before they'd caught a taxi to the surf competition, they'd risen early and spent an hour snorkelling in the small bay by their cottage. She'd seen some brightly coloured fish as well as the typical silver ones. More than that, she remembered the feel of Brad's skin against hers as he enveloped her in an embrace or tickled her ribs with his fingertips, sending goosebumps up and down her body.
If marriage was going to be anything like it'd been during their first week, she could hardly believe how blissful her life had become. Brad was the kind of man she'd only ever dreamed of meeting. She'd been raised in Emerald Cove, moved with her parents to Port Macquarie when she was sixteen, then left home the very first moment she could manage it after dropping out of school. She’d hated it there, in large part because she’d left her friends behind in the Cove, and the fighting between her mother and father had become unbearable. She hitched a ride back to Emerald Cove with a family friend and landed a hairdressing apprenticeship at one of only two salons in town soon after. She’d lived a quiet life since.
Brad had changed all of that.
Nothing about her life was quiet any longer. She travelled the world to watch him surf. Her life was filled with the laughter and buzz of his friends and family. Even her boss had wondered out loud whether she'd continue working at the salon after they were married. Brad told her she didn't need to keep working; his competition earnings were increasing with every event. The two of them would be able to live a good life together on what he made; she could quit and come out on the road with him full-time.
But things in her life had changed so quickly she'd decided to hold onto her job for now and only travel with Brad when her schedule allowed. She wasn't sure she was ready to change everything all at once. But maybe next year…
The announcer's voice caught her attention. It was Brad; he was riding a wave. She focused on the small figure in the distance, determined not to miss it this time. He stood on his board at the crest of the wave. Her heart skipped a beat. The wave was enormous. The water seemed to stall for a moment in its descent, then curled behind Brad as he slid down its smooth face.
He amazed her. She could never do something like that. Even just watching, it sent her heart into her throat. It was terrifying, the amount of water that pursued him down the wave. He curved his board this way, then that, even as she clenched her hands into fists at her sides. No, don't do that, she begged him in silence. The wave was too big; he didn't have time for tricks or moves, just had to get to the bottom and out of the way of the curling water. The lip of the wave curved, wide, thick and falling rapidly.
As it fell, it enveloped Brad. She couldn't see him at all. A gasp rushed through the crowd. When the sound reached her, her breath caught in her throat and her skin was instantly covered in a clammy film of sweat.
The announcer paused, then continued his rambling as the crowd waited with a collectively held breath for Brad to emerge from the remnants of the spent wave.
Meg lurched to her feet and stood there, frozen in place, her hands still fisted, her heart thundering.
"Come on, let's go." Alice rushed over and grabbed Meg by the hand, the toddler planted firmly on one hip. "We've got to go and make sure he's okay."
Meg couldn't speak. Her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth. She only nodded and ran in step beside Alice as the woman tugged her along by the hand down the beach.
She couldn't see him. The sand sucked at her feet. Each footstep felt like running through molten lead. There was a tent set on the far end of the beach where the officials were located, along with the first-aid crew. She fixed her eyes on the tent, willing her body to carry her in that direction. She'd lost feeling in her limbs; her face was numb too. This couldn't be happening. It was Brad. Her strong, athletic husband. He could handle anything. He'd be fine. He'd emerge from the waves laughing, shaking the water from his long, sun-bleached hair.
When they reached the tent, one of the men was barking orders into a radio. The others had left the tent, all but the row of judges who were on their feet, peering at the place where Brad had been. Tables strewn with folders and pens had been abandoned. Loose sheets of white paper caught on the wind and sailed past Meg as she fought to find her breath.
"Where is he?" she asked, her pulse loud in her ears.
“I don’t see him…” replied Alice beside her, adjusting the child on her hip.
No one responded. The sound of the waves crashing, the whistle of a gust of wind, the noise of the bullhorn, all drowned out her voice. Everyone's attention was fixed on the stretch of water where jet skis circled.
The set of enormous waves had fallen into a lull of temporary relief as the swell slowly rose and fell. The jet skis were joined by kayakers, paddle boards, and everyone in the water circled, peered, yelled. Meg shook her head, slowly at first, then faster until her brain rattled against her skull.
No. No. No.
Where was he?
He couldn't drown. Not on their honeymoon. She couldn't lose him now. They had plans, big plans for their lives together.
She craned her neck, squeezing Alice's hand even tighter, feeling the woman flinch. Then, one of the kayakers let out a shout. It seemed the entire beach was watching in silence, so the shout rose on the wind and carried to shore. The man leaned over and hauled a body onto his kayak, then signalled to one of the jet skis. The vehicle accelerated over, and two men shifted the body onto the jet ski.
It was Brad, but he wasn't moving.
The swell rose tall behind the jet ski, and Meg watched as the driver glanced at the towering wave, then leaned forward over the handlebars. The small machine hummed along the water's surface, rising as the wave built, growing, heaving, building. Meg's eyes widened, and her throat tightened. She was helpless. There was nothing she could do but watch in de
spair.
"Oh my word," hissed Alice beside her, staring at the wave. “That wave’s going to knock the jet ski for six… Get out of there!" She shouted the last, though the man riding the jet ski couldn’t hear her. The toddler fussed, and she set the child down by her feet.
As the crest of the wave tipped forward, the jet ski finally seemed to pull away and reached the shoreline as the wave thundered behind it.
Meg released Alice's hand and ran. She stumbled down a grassy embankment, then plunged into soft, hot sand and tumbled forward. A lump filled her throat.
"I have to stay positive, Brad needs me. Focus, Meg, focus," she murmured beneath her breath as she ran.
It seemed an age before she finally reached him. By the time she got there, they'd already transferred him to a stretcher and set off down the beach in the direction of the parking lot with Brad prone between six stout, tanned men. Half wore wet suits; the others were in shorts and t-shirts.
"Stay back please!" one of the men shouted.
"He's my husband," she said. Her voice seemed alien; she almost didn't recognise it.
"Stay with us, Mrs Taylor," said one of the men carrying the stretcher. He grunted as they lifted it up the sandy bank, careful not to tilt it so far that Brad might fall. "Talk to him."