Anchored Inn

by Karen MacInerney

  Now, as I stood outside Seaside Cottage Books the day before the grand opening, the sight of a cheerful Bethany in jeans and a pink flannel shirt lifted my heart.

  “How’s it going in there?” I asked.

  “Everything’s ship-shape,” she announced. “I’ve got the Maine section finished up—two local authors dropped their books by today—and I picked up more coffee and creamer, and some hot chocolate for the little ones.”

  “Terrific,” I said, feeling better already. “Give me the receipts, and I’ll reimburse you!” I opened the back door of the SUV and picked up Winston’s crate, setting it on the ground. “There is one thing, though,” Bethany said.

  “Oh?”

  “A rather insistent woman has stopped by three times today,” she informed me as I liberated Winston from his crate.

  “Who?” I asked as my fluffy little dog shook himself all over and trotted over to greet Bethany. He’d been my faithful companion since I’d retrieved him from the pound, covered in mange and painful-looking sores and looking a little like a scabby goat, six years ago. With lots of TLC and medication, we’d taken care of the mange and sores, along with the worms and other maladies that had kept him curled up on the couch with me the first few months. Now, he was bouncy, curious, and suffering from a bit of a Napoleon complex, particularly (alas) with dogs that were more than ten times his size. He'd doubled in bulk since I adopted him, and was a terrible food scavenger. To my delight, since the first day he climbed into my lap, shaking, at the pound, he’d been my biggest fan, my stout defender, and my reliable snuggle partner. Now, once Bethany scratched his head and got a few licks, he shook himself and waddled over to a tree stump to relieve himself.

  “The woman who came by today? I’ve never met her, and she wouldn’t leave a name. But she was practically apoplectic.” I smiled; even though “practically apoplectic” didn’t sound promising, I did love Bethany’s vocabulary. “She told me she absolutely needed to talk to you.”

  “Well, I’m here now,” I said. “She can come find me.”

  “Right,” Bethany said, but a cloud had passed over her bright face.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “She said something about you stealing the store.”

  “Stealing the store?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know what she meant. But I got the impression she’s planning to instigate trouble.”

  “Fabulous,” I said. “Well, what’s a good story without a few plot twists?” This was part of my new goal, which was to look on the bright side and count my blessings. Some days were easier than others. “Speaking of stories, how’s your mystery going?” I asked.

  “I’ve gotten to the dead body,” she said, “but now I’m kind of stuck. I put the book to the side until after the grand re-opening, though. I’ve got K.T. Anderson set up for a reading an hour after it starts, and I even talked the local paper into sending a reporter over tomorrow!”

  K.T. Anderson was a Maine-based bestselling mystery author who had set an entire series in a town not far from here; getting her to come to the grand opening was a coup. “You are amazing, Bethany,” I said, meaning every word.

  “Happy to do it. Come see what I’ve done!”

  Leaving my U-Haul trailer behind and feeling rather brighter, I followed my young assistant into Seaside Cottage Books, Winston trotting along at my heels.

  The bright blue walls and white bookshelves were fresh and clean, the neatly stacked books like jewels just waiting to be plucked from the shelves. The window seat in the bay window at the front of the store was lined with my handmade pillows, an inviting nook to tuck into with a book, and the armchairs tucked into the corners here and there gave the whole place the sweet, cozy feel I remembered from when I'd spent summer afternoons in the shop as a girl, when Loretta was still in good health. I walked from room to room, the gleaming wood floors creaking under my feet, and resisted the urge to pinch myself. Where the store had been dark and close, the windows covered over with old blankets and the rooms smelling of dust and must when I first took possession, over the past few months, Bethany and I had transformed it into a bright, clean space that smelled of lemon and new books and, above all, possibility.

  “I set the table up here in the room with the local books, under the window,” Bethany said, leading me to one of the front rooms. “I’m featuring K.T. Anderson’s latest, of course. I didn’t like it as much as the last one—it’s a little heavy on the romance part—but it’ll sell well. I ordered lots of stock for her to sign.” Sure enough, a table with a bright blue tablecloth sat along the wall, two coffee percolators and several platters waiting for the cookies I’d been stocking the freezer with for the last month. A stack of postcards was displayed prominently on shelves and tables around the store that showed a picture of Seaside Books, including a 10% off coupon and the promo copy we’d come up with together—“Sink Your Teeth into a Good Book--Free Cookie with Every Purchase.”

  “It looks terrific,” I said. “I don’t know how I’ll ever thank you.”

  “Become a booming success and feature my first book,” Bethany said, “and we’ll call it even.”

  “Of course,” I said, grinning at her. I had total faith in Bethany; she was smart, enthusiastic, dedicated, and one of the hardest workers I knew.

  I glanced around the store, which was picture-perfect and ready for opening, with pride and anticipation mixed with a little bit of anxiety. After all, everything was riding on this venture. I’d spent the last twenty years taking care of my daughters, running a home, and working part-time at one of Boston’s independent bookstores, Bean Books. Now that I was single again, I needed to be able to take care of myself, and after being out of the workforce for two decades, my prospects in corporate America were rather limited. Besides, I couldn’t envision spending the next twenty years in some oatmeal-colored cubicle answering phones and doing filing, which was pretty much the only option available for someone with my work experience.

  Although Ellie, the owner of Bean Books and a dear friend, had offered me an assistant manager position, with real estate prices in Boston, there was no way I could pay my rent with the salary she was able to offer me. When Ellie told me Loretta was ill and might be looking for someone to help run Seaside Cottage Books—or even take it over for her—something inside me responded. I'd always fantasized about owning my own bookstore and living in a small community, and I wasn’t getting any younger. Did I really want “She always wanted to own a bookstore but never got around to it” in my obituary? No matter what happened, I was glad I’d gone after what I’d always wanted; and Ellie had been a terrific cheerleader and consultant during my moments of doubt.

  Winston seemed to approve of the new digs, too; he’d settled down into the dog bed I’d put beside the old desk I was using as a counter, looking content for the first time that day. Or at least relieved to be out of his crate. I knew the demand for dinner would be coming soon, though.

  “Mail is in the top drawer of the desk—there were a few things that looked important, so I put them on top of the stack—and I shelved another order of books that came in today,” Bethany informed me. “There was a new one from Barbara Ross in the order, so I put it in the New Releases display.”

  “Perfect,” I told her.

  “I’m going to head home for dinner,” she said. “But I’ll be back tomorrow. If you need help unloading, I can ask my cousins to come give us a hand tomorrow morning.”

  “That would be a massive help; there’s no way I could get that couch up the stairs on my own, much less the mattress. I can’t thank you enough!”

  “See you in the morning, then. I can’t wait!”

  “Text me when you get home, okay?’

  “I will,” she promised.

  I watched through the front window as Bethany climbed onto her bike and turned right on Cottage Street, keeping my eyes on her until she disappeared from sight. Her house was only a few blocks away. I knew Snug Harbor wa
s safe, but I also knew I wouldn’t sleep soundly unless I knew Bethany had gotten home okay.

  Once a mother, always a mother, I suppose.

  “Let’s stretch our legs,” I suggested, grabbing a leash from the passenger seat of the car and clipping it to Winston’s collar. With a glance back at the house—and the U-Haul I still had to unload — we headed down the grassy trail to the water, pausing to inspect a few raspberry bushes with berries hidden under the yellow-green leaves, Winston straining at the leash and sniffing everything in range. Berries I would pick and put into ice cream sundaes, into muffins… I had so many things to look forward to this summer. Beach roses filled the air with their winey perfume, the bright blooms studding the dark green foliage.

  Winston romped happily toward the water, smelling all the grass tufts, only slowing down and treading carefully when we got to the rocky beach. The tide was halfway out, and Winston was staying close beside me. Even though the waves in the harbor were minimal, he’d been swamped by a rogue wave once, and had had new respect for the ocean ever since. As we walked, I scanned the dark rocks mixed with flecks of brown seaweed, searching out of habit for sea glass. I found two brown chunks, doubtless the remains of old beer bottles, a couple of green shards, and two bits of delicate pale green that must have started life as Coke bottles, and I was about to turn back when a glint of cobalt caught my eye. I scooped it up and rinsed it off; it was a beautiful, deep blue shard, my favorite color and a lucky find. I tucked it in my pocket and walked up the beach, my stomach rumbling. What I really wanted to do was go to one of those restaurants up the street and indulge in a lobster dinner, but I was on a tunafish budget, so a homemade sandwich would have to do.

  I grabbed the overnight case from the back seat of the SUV and climbed the back stairs to the apartment porch, Winston in my wake. Then I unlocked the door and stepped inside, flipping on the light with my elbow, and smiled. It was cozy, sweet, and… in a word, perfect.

  In the back of the little house, with a gorgeous view of the harbor, was the living room, whose natural-colored floors and white walls (I’d painted) looked fresh and bright, even in the evening. Although the furnishings currently consisted of a rag rug, two folding chairs, and a dust mop, I could picture how it would be once I brought in my white couch and coffee table, with a big blue rag rug against the golden floor.

  The kitchen was small, but cozy, also with wood floors and white walls, with a card table I’d gotten at the second-hand store in the corner. I’d outfitted the kitchen with odds and ends from my kitchen in Boston, including a toaster I’d been meaning to throw away for years, a coffeemaker that had been state-of-the-art in the late 1990s, and stacks of white and blue plates from Goodwill. I plopped down my overnight bag, released Winston from his leash, and grabbed a loaf of bread I'd put in the freezer the last time I was here, tucking two slices into the toaster oven and fishing in the small fridge for cheese. A bottle of cheap but not entirely undrinkable Prosecco sat in the fridge door; I’d bought it in anticipation of this night.

  I slapped a slice of cheddar cheese on each piece of bread, then hit “toast” and retrieved a jam jar from the cabinet. While Winston watched, I popped the cork on the Prosecco and filled the jar. Then, jam jar in hand, I walked into the living room and surveyed the view from the kitchen window, which overlooked the harbor.

  The sandbar connecting Snug Harbor to Snug Island had almost been swallowed up by the tide, and two late seagulls picked through the broken shells at the water’s edge. Two sea kayakers were heading out from the island, paddling toward Snug Harbor, probably anxious to get back before total darkness fell. The sky was rose and peach and deep, deep, blue, and the first two stars twinkled in the cobalt swath of sky.

  I looked down to where Winston stood behind me, looking up at me expectantly, head cocked to one side. “To new beginnings,” I said, slipping my companion a piece of cheese before raising my jar in a toast, then sipping the fizzy Prosecco. “We made it.”

  As I spoke, I noticed a furtive figure slipping out of the trees and creeping up the path to the house. Then it paused, and I could see the pale oval of a face looking up at the lit window. As if whoever it was had changed their mind, he or she hustled back into the trees, melting into the shadows. Beside me, standing at the glass door, Winston’s hackles rose, and he growled.

  Goose bumps rose on my arms for the second time that night—this time, not in a good way. “It’s okay,” I reassured the little dog, hoping to reassure myself at the same time. “Whoever it is is gone.”

  As I spoke, the smell of burning toast filled the air. “Drat,” I said, and hurried back to the kitchen, where the edges of the toast had blackened.

  I pulled it out of the toaster and onto a plate, burning myself in the process, and cut off the edges with a butter knife, then sat down at the table with my sad-looking toasted cheese sandwich and a jam jar of Prosecco, still wondering who had headed up the path and changed tacks at the last minute.

  Whoever it was was gone, I told myself as I bit into my sandwich. And I had other things to worry about.

  Like unpacking the truck.

  And preparing to have all of Snug Harbor descend on my fledgling bookstore in less than 24 hours.

  It was almost midnight by the time I tucked in with Winston curled up in the crook of my arm. I hoped it was my last night sleeping on an air mattress, but with my crisp blue and white percale sheets, fluffy blanket, and soft pillows, it wasn’t exactly a hardship. Besides, it was lovely being able to see the stars out my window; and to open my window and hear the lap of the water against the shore and the breeze in the maple tree next to the house instead of Boston traffic in the distance.

  I read one of Lee Strauss’s charming Ginger Gold books until my eyes started to droop. Then I reached to turn off the lamp I’d set up next to the head of the mattress and burrowed into the covers, lulled to sleep by Winston’s steady breathing and the soothing sound of the ocean.

  Until a crashing sound from downstairs woke me up.

  * * *

  A Killer Ending will be out this June… pre-order your copy here to find out what happens next!

  Recipes

  Apple Coffee Cake

  Ingredients:

  Cake

  * * *

  1/4 cup butter, softened

  3/4 cup brown sugar

  1 large egg

  1/2 cup sour cream

  1 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

  1 cup all-purpose flour

  3/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon

  1/2 teaspoon baking soda

  1/4 teaspoon salt

  2 cups diced Honeycrisp or Granny Smith apple

  * * *

  Topping

  1/4 cup brown sugar

  1/4 cup all-purpose flour

  2 tablespoons butter

  1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon

  * * *

  Instructions:

  * * *

  Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Spray an 8-inch square baking dish with cooking spray; dust with 1 tablespoon flour.

  * * *

  Beat 1/4 cup butter and 3/4 cup brown sugar together with an electric mixer in a large bowl until light and fluffy. The mixture should be noticeably lighter in color. Beat egg into butter mixture. Add sour cream and vanilla extract to the mixture and beat in.

  * * *

  Stir 1 cup flour, 3/4 teaspoon cinnamon, baking soda, and salt together in a bowl; add to the butter mixture and beat to combine into a batter. Fold apples into the batter and pour into prepared baking dish.

  * * *

  Mix 1/4 cup brown sugar, 1/4 cup flour, 2 tablespoons butter, and 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon together in a bowl using a fork to achieve a crumbly consistency; sprinkle over the top of the batter.

  * * *

  Bake in the preheated oven until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean, 35 to 40 minutes. Cool in the pan for 10 minutes before removing to cool completely on a wire rack.

  Easy Thai Curry />
  Ingredients:

  * * *

  16 oz extra firm tofu

  * * *

  Optional Tofu Marinade

  2 garlic cloves, minced

  3 tbsp tamari or soy sauce

  2 tbsp sesame oil

  1 tbsp honey or brown sugar

  3 tbsp rice vinegar

  1 tsp red pepper flakes

  * * *

  Curry

  1 yellow onion, finely chopped

  3 garlic cloves, minced

  1 tsp grated ginger

  1 red, yellow, or orange bell pepper

  1 cup thinly sliced mushrooms, preferably baby bella

  3 tbsp red Thai curry paste

  13 oz coconut milk

  1 tbsp fish sauce (omit to make this dish vegetarian)

  1 tbsp sambal oelek chili sauce

  1 lime, zest and juice

  * * *

  Garnishes

  Thai basil

  Thinly sliced scallions

  * * *

  Instructions:

  * * *

  Tofu Marinade

  * * *

  Toss all of the marinade ingredients together in a large bowl. Put tofu in a large freezer bag or sealable container and pour the marinade over top. Refrigerate for 30-40 minutes.

  * * *

  Tofu

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