“Actually, I’d love your opinion. I just don’t know if I can afford it.” Quinn had looked at Lane’s website every day since she found out Mimi was retiring. Her business, Memory Lane Designs, was so successful—Quinn could only imagine what Lane’s rates were.
“I’ll give you the friends and family deal,” Lane said with a wink. “I have a vested interest in downtown Harbor Pointe. If it looks good and the businesses do well, we all benefit.”
Quinn smiled. “I would love that.”
“We’ll come by later today.”
The front door of the restaurant opened, and a collective silence settled on the whole place. It was as if they sensed Grady Benson before he even set foot inside. Quinn’s eyes scanned the other patrons, expecting to see glares and grimaces given the damage he’d caused to this very diner.
But apparently she was the only one who remembered—even Betsy almost looked happy to see him. The owner of Hazel’s moved out from behind the counter and over to where Grady stood, looking like a child on his first day of kindergarten. They talked for a few seconds, and then Betsy pointed back to their corner, probably to Ryan, who would most likely be handling whatever help Grady had been sentenced to offer.
Lucy leaned in. “He might have a temper, but he sure is good-looking.” She nudged Quinn with her elbow.
“I hadn’t noticed,” Quinn said.
“What are you, dead?” Lucy rested her chin on her hand, propped up on the table by her elbow.
“I’m sure Derek would love to hear you think so,” Quinn said.
Hailey sauntered over with wide eyes and three plates of food. “How crazy is it we have an Olympian in Harbor Pointe?”
“And a hot one at that.”
Quinn took her plate and rolled her eyes. “I don’t see what the big deal is about this guy. He’s like a walking disaster.”
Lucy and Hailey exchanged one of their knowing glances across the table—the kind that said, We know something you don’t know.
Quinn stabbed her scrambled eggs with her fork and shook her head. “Di-sas-ter.”
But as Betsy led Grady Benson past Quinn’s table, her eyes met his for a split second, and Quinn quickly glanced away. Lucy was right. He was good-looking. But good-looking meant nothing to her—not when it came to troubled souls and entitled athletes.
And that’s all Grady Benson was, as far as she was concerned.
CHAPTER
7
COMING BACK TO HAZEL’S KITCHEN was an exercise in humility, for sure. Grady didn’t expect the wild-haired owner to be kind to him. He expected her to throw him out, despite the judge’s orders. But apparently that’s not how Betsy Tanner operated.
She greeted him at the front door, which was good since he was dreading the prying eyes of every one of her customers—people who definitely knew what he’d done. The proof was all around them.
Thankfully, the news had died down, and as far as he could tell, there were only a few straggling reporters sticking around Harbor Pointe. The others had moved on to chase the underbelly of someone else’s life.
“You’re right on time,” Betsy said, tucking a small notebook into the pocket of her apron.
“You can say a lot of things about me, but you can’t say I’m not punctual.” Grady forced a smile. He’d been ordered to report to Hazel’s at 8 a.m., and while he still had every intention of figuring a way out of this mess, for today, this is where he had to be. Off to the side, one part of the restaurant—the unusable side—had been sectioned off. There was a gaping hole in the wall where he’d shoved Jimmy into it, his shoulder doing the brunt of the damage.
He really had made a wreck of things.
“You hungry? I can get you something before you start. I’ll take you over to meet Ryan Brooks—he’s the guy in charge of most of the repairs.” She pointed to a table near the back of the diner, but the man’s back was all he saw. Kitty-corner from him, though, were the sheriff’s daughter and her friends.
She didn’t like him—but he couldn’t blame her.
Grady turned back to Betsy. “I could eat.”
“Great. I’ll introduce you to Ryan, and then you can take a look at the menu.”
Seconds later, they were standing beside the table where Ryan and a dark-haired woman sat across from each other.
“Brooks, this is Grady Benson,” Betsy said. “Grady, this is Ryan Brooks and Lane Kelley. They’re the ones responsible for the cottage you’re staying in.”
Ryan stood and extended a hand. “How’s your cottage? I think we put you in Lois?”
Grady shook his hand. “It’s great. If I have to be stranded somewhere, I’m glad it’s with Lois.” Each of the cottages at Cedar Grove had been given a woman’s name. Lois, as his was called, was a small white house with a cherry-red mailbox and a large, dark-gray porch with two Adirondack chairs off to one side. He’d later discovered that the back of the cottage faced the lake, and in the distance he could see a lighthouse the same color as the mailbox. Some people might find the place charming. To him, it felt like a prison.
He’d spent the evening flipping through the same four channels on TV, catching hints of terribly produced local news, reruns of old sitcoms he hadn’t watched the first time around, and the clear knowledge that he wasn’t going to last five seconds in this town, let alone five weeks.
Qualifying races were going to go on without him, making it harder and harder for him to secure his spot on the Olympic team—especially since training here was going to be impossible. He’d looked up the nearby ski lodge, and while he couldn’t be sure, judging by its website, they weren’t even close to the kind of slopes he needed. A knot tied itself in the center of his stomach.
How was he going to get through this?
Grady reminded himself to be polite. It wasn’t this guy’s fault he was there. It was that pompous judge’s.
“Sorry for the mess,” Grady mumbled.
“I imagine you are.” Ryan’s eyes flickered. “Getting stuck in a place like this—for someone like you? Has to be tricky.”
“I’ll be fine.” Grady wasn’t here to make friends. He’d do what he was told—for today—and then he’d get back on the phone with Pete.
“We’ve made some great progress already.” Ryan glanced off to the damaged side. “Course we left some of it just for you.”
“Great.”
“Once we finish here, I’ll sign off on your paperwork, and you can get your next assignment. Do you know what else they’ve got you doing?”
Grady shook his head. He hadn’t really been listening that closely when the judge handed out his laundry list of community service tasks. Mostly he’d been certain it would never come down to him actually reporting to any of them . . . but here he was.
Grady felt someone at his side, turned, and found a young, lanky kid staring at him.
“Jaden,” Betsy said, “aren’t you supposed to be at school?”
The kid either didn’t hear her or had no problem ignoring her. He didn’t respond. Instead, he continued staring.
“Seriously, Jaden, you’re going to be late for school.” Betsy gave him a push.
“Mr. Benson.” Jaden reached for Grady’s hand. “I’m a huge fan.” The kid stood there for an awkward second, looking at Grady, waiting for a response.
“Do you ski?”
“Yes. Every chance I get. I have a pass at Avalanche Mountain—was just there last weekend. But the best skiing is up north a little ways. Even an hour makes a huge difference.”
Good to know. “Do you get up there often?”
“Nah, not really. I can get to Avalanche on the bus, but I’ve only got a local pass. It’s okay, though. I’m getting myself in shape. Took some lessons and everything. My dream’s to compete—like you.”
“That right?”
“I like how you do things your own way. You don’t let anyone tell you what to do.” Jaden grinned. “I’ve already got that part down.”
“That�
�s not going to get you very far.” The voice was familiar, but not one he’d expected. They all turned and found Quinn standing beside her table, purse slung over her shoulder and a scowl on her face.
“Got him this far, didn’t it?” Jaden lifted his chin.
Quinn glanced at Grady, then back at Jaden. “If by ‘this far’ you mean stuck doing community service in Harbor Pointe, Michigan, then yes, it did. But it’s not going to work for you. Let’s go.”
Jaden rolled his eyes.
“School starts in ten minutes. Come on.”
“Grady, maybe we can ski together sometime while you’re here. If you could help me shave even a few seconds off my time—maybe take a look at my form.”
“Jaden. Now.” Quinn stood behind him like an annoyed babysitter, and it was Grady’s presence that annoyed her, he could tell.
“Let’s do it, kid,” Grady said, mostly to get a rise out of Quinn.
It worked. He couldn’t be sure, but it was entirely possible there was steam coming out of her ears.
“For real?” The kid’s eyes lit up like a fireworks display.
“Course. You can show me the slopes—I gotta stay in shape anyway.”
“For the qualifying races.”
“That’s right.” Or race, singular, as the case may be.
“How many will be left when you finish your sentence here?”
Grady felt his shoulders slump. “One.”
“Whoa, dude. That’s gonna be a killer race.” Quinn tugged on his arm. “Gotta go to school, but this weekend?”
“You got it.”
“Bets, will you give him my number?” Jaden backed toward the door, Quinn still pulling his arm.
Betsy nodded and gave him a little wave. “You got it, kiddo.”
Quinn glared at Grady one last time before walking out the door.
“Seems like a good kid,” Grady said once they’d gone.
Betsy let out a little groan. “He’s a handful, to say the least.”
Hmm. Like someone else Grady knew.
What was the deal with the sheriff’s daughter? Why had she whipped out her bossy mom voice? Whatever it was, he had the fleeting thought that getting under her skin could be a fun pastime while he was trapped here in Mayberry-by-the-lake.
Might just make the ridiculousness of his situation a little more bearable.
“He is not someone to idolize, Jaden.”
“Give him a break.” Quinn’s nephew slumped down in the passenger seat of her Volkswagen.
“Did you or did you not see the giant hole in the wall at Hazel’s?”
“He’s there to fix it. Sheesh.”
“He’s there because Judge ordered him to be there.”
Jaden’s shrug was meant to dismiss her. But she wasn’t so easy to shut up.
“Is that really the kind of person you want to look up to? A guy who can’t control his temper when someone hurts his feelings?”
Jaden shoved his backpack on the floor. “Do you even know who he is, Aunt Quinn? Have you seen what he can do?”
Quinn unintentionally slammed her hand on the steering wheel. “Why is everyone so enamored with this guy?” She’d never been prone to hero worship, and when it came to Grady Benson, she definitely didn’t get the appeal.
“How many people do you know who’ve been to the Olympics? It’s kind of a big deal.”
“I don’t care. I know enough to know that he’s bad news. He’s arrogant and entitled and—” she stopped before adding too attractive for his own good.
“And what?”
“And you should find yourself a better role model.”
Jaden stared out the window, a sudden stillness settling over him. “I think God brought him here.”
It was a good thing they were at a stoplight because Quinn couldn’t keep from eyeballing Jaden. Jaden, the kid who hated going to church, thought God was a “big bully,” and whose rebellion had his mother literally praying without ceasing every single day.
Tread lightly.
The thought surprised her. She didn’t want to dissuade Jaden in any way from thinking or talking about God, but he was terribly mistaken if he believed Grady’s stay in Harbor Pointe was divine intervention.
“I know that sounds stupid . . .” He must’ve sensed her hesitation.
Way to go, Quinn.
“No, it doesn’t sound stupid.” Misguided. That’s the word she’d use.
The light turned and she drove the last block toward Harbor Pointe High School.
“I asked for a sign.” Jaden still stared out the window.
“A sign?” She kept her voice light, upbeat.
“A sign. About skiing. My mom wants me to give it up. Says I need to get serious about school and quit spending time daydreaming about skiing. I had to stop taking lessons for a while.”
That sounded like Carly.
Quinn’s older sister only wanted what was best for her son, but discouraging him in the one thing he’d shown any interest in since his model train kick at the age of eight didn’t seem like the most prudent move. Still, she understood. Carly had raised Jaden on her own—and she’d been really young when she had him. She was determined to make sure he had a good life, no matter what. To her, that meant a sensible path, which Jaden unfortunately did not want to travel.
If she knew he was out chasing down Grady Benson, her sister would flip.
“So you prayed about it?” She kept every trace of shock out of her voice, but it still spooked him.
They were sitting at the curb in front of his school, and he couldn’t have opened the door faster. “Thanks for the ride.”
Her sigh was nearly undetectable. “See you later, Jay.”
She watched Jaden walk up the sidewalk, wearing nothing warmer than a flannel shirt and a lightweight jacket. To look at him, you’d think he was a kid who’d just transferred to Harbor Pointe, not someone who’d lived here his whole life.
He walked past several groups of kids, head down, backpack over one shoulder, and made no acknowledgment of anyone. It was almost like he was invisible.
He’d grown so withdrawn, yet he loved to ski. It was the one thing that could still make him smile. Did Carly really want him to quit?
Regardless, his worship of Grady Benson was a serious problem. Grady Benson was starting to become a serious problem.
And Quinn felt helpless to do anything about it.
CHAPTER
8
THE PLANNING MEETINGS for the Winter Carnival were always held on Tuesday nights, and Quinn had gotten so busy at the flower shop, she’d almost forgotten. As promised, Ryan Brooks and Lane Kelley had stopped by late that morning, and she explained what she had in mind—a shop that was charming and welcoming, one where people stopped in even if they weren’t looking for flowers.
She wanted lots of white, galvanized metal light fixtures, a new Forget-Me-Not logo painted on the back wall, and displays that invited people to lean in and smell, touch, and eventually purchase their favorite flowers.
“Well, it doesn’t sound like you need me at all,” Lane had told her. “You’ve got some great ideas here.” She’d been flipping through Quinn’s book of sketches and torn-out magazine pages, all the designs she’d been storing for years. The styles had changed, but Quinn’s vision hadn’t. She wanted classic. Traditional. Light and airy.
Ryan had agreed to help her with the built-in displays as well as installing some of the light fixtures and refinishing the floors. Quinn would add a fresh coat of white paint to the entire space, including the brick wall behind the counter, and of course, she’d decorate for Christmas—white, evergreen, and burlap brown. It would be perfectly classy.
Lane gave her the instructions she needed to add her logo to the back wall (hand-painted, no less), and as they stood there, Ryan got an idea for a brand-new, custom-built checkout counter.
In fact, he and Lane disappeared into their own lingo for a minute, talking about a supplier they knew, some old ba
rn wood they’d found, and a sheet of galvanized metal they could use to face the entire thing.
While Quinn had no idea what most of it meant, she went along with it because she trusted Lane and because they’d practically begged her to let them make it.
“Who am I to argue with a creative idea?” she’d said, praying their help was within her budget.
Now, she walked toward the offices of the convention and visitors’ bureau, just down two blocks and across the street from the flower shop. As she did, she passed by Hazel’s and noticed that the holes in the wall had been patched up and the place already looked a lot better.
Up ahead, she could see people beginning to arrive for their meeting. The committee was small for such a large event, with only about fifteen key volunteers and leaders. In the summer, it was easy for Harbor Pointe to draw in the tourists, but years ago, someone realized the little town on Lake Michigan could become a winter draw if they wanted to make it one. Since local businesses depended on tourism, it had always seemed like a worthy cause, even before she was a business owner.
Plus, as a single almost-thirtysomething, Quinn had plenty of time to be involved.
She walked up the sidewalk and toward the front door, where Danny Carver waited for her.
“Evening, Quinn.” He grinned at her—a little bit dorky, but endearing just the same. Danny was a good guy, just not her type.
That’s the way you like it, remember?
While loneliness sometimes nagged her—mostly in the evenings when she was eating dinner alone on the sofa—Quinn had no interest in romance. She’d spare herself the heartache and maintain a safe distance at all times.
Even from someone as harmless as Danny Carver.
Danny pulled the door open for her. “You look beautiful as always.” He stood almost eye level with Quinn.
“Thanks.” She took off her coat and tucked it in the crook of her arm, switching her purse from one shoulder to the other.
“So, congratulations.” Danny shoved his hands in his pockets. “I heard you’re Harbor Pointe’s newest business owner.”
Quinn smiled. “Yeah, I am. Still feels like a dream, really.”
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