She heard the chatter of voices all the way down the hall, and she arrived at the meeting room to find it packed with men and women of all ages. She caught sight of Patricia Whiteside, who owned the Oyster Inn, and the woman from the kite shop. The kite lady’s hair was long and perfectly styled and she wore a sleeveless top with fringe along the neckline over skinny jeans. Her earrings were glittery little lavender cowgirl hats. That had to be Austin Banks, who Brody had told her about. And there was Brody himself, busy talking to Whit Gruber.
She quickly spotted Tyrella, who had ditched the carpenter’s apron and was wearing a coral top over her slacks. She was chatting with two middle-aged men. Jenna suspected that if Tyrella wanted to replace Leroy she’d have no trouble.
She saw Jenna, waved and hurried over. “I’m glad you made it. You’re going to love this bunch. They know how to keep it real.” Brody turned and saw Jenna and made a beeline for her. “Here comes Brody Green. He’s the broker at Beach Dreams Realty,” Tyrella said. “Don’t be surprised if he hits on you.”
“He already has.”
Tyrella shook her head and chuckled. “Leave it to Brody to zero in on the new single woman in town.”
“Pretty single woman,” Brody corrected, coming up in time to hear her.
“Don’t you go breakin’ this sweet young thing’s heart,” Tyrella scolded him.
Brody put a hand to his chest. “Tyrella, you wound me deeply.”
Tyrella rolled her eyes. “Since you’ve already met Jenna, you just move on out of the way and let me introduce her to everyone else.”
“Only if you promise to let me sit with you two,” he said, and smiled at Jenna. The man had quite a smile.
“Come on. Before this boy sucks you in like an undertow,” Tyrella said, taking Jenna’s arm and leading her away.
She first introduced Jenna to one of the men she’d been talking to earlier. His name was Ellis West and he looked to be somewhere in his fifties and was a husky man with a jaw the size of a boulder. Jenna caught a whiff of cigar.
“You need to know this man,” Tyrella told her. “He owns the Seafood Shack.”
“My daughter and I were just in your place Sunday,” Jenna told him.
“I thought I recognized you. Welcome to Moonlight Harbor,” he said, and held out a large paw.
Jenna made the mistake of putting her hand in it. Ellis West had a crushing handshake.
“Glad you’re here. Now Edie will have help and the old Driftwood will get spruced up like it oughta be.”
And that would mean more business for him.
“Let me know if you need help with anything.”
Money help? Would Ellis West be willing to make her a personal loan?
“I swing a mean paintbrush,” he said.
So maybe not money, but a kind offer all the same. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”
Next Tyrella introduced Jenna to Sherwood Stern, president of Harbor First National Bank. He gave Jenna a quick smile and even quicker welcome and then excused himself to go talk to someone else. That didn’t bode well for hitting up good old Sherwood for more money.
Cindy Redmond was next on Tyrella’s list of people to introduce Jenna to. She was thin in the hips and legs but full in the bust and she had a round, pink face and red hair. Looking at her, Jenna couldn’t help but think of a Tootsie Roll pop. She owned Cindy’s Candies along with her husband, Bruce, who was minding the shop.
“We take turns coming to the meetings. Can’t leave the candy unguarded,” she joked.
There were so many people to meet. Jenna managed to shake hands with about half of them, including Austin Banks, who invited her to come join her gang of line dancers on Sunday nights.
“Good fun,” she drawled. “Get out there and shake your booty to the only music worth listening to. It’s a great way to shed your troubles.”
Did she know Jenna had troubles?
She had eyes. She’d seen the Driftwood Inn.
Whit Gruber said hello to her, and Alex and Natalie Bell, who owned Beachside Burgers and Doggy’s Hot Dogs, invited her to stop by and have a hot dog on the house. Rita Rutledge, close to Jenna’s age and thin enough to blow away in a strong wind, owned Beans and Books, the combination coffee shop and bookstore, and offered to give her a free latte.
“Everyone’s so generous,” she said to Tyrella.
“Good people here,” Tyrella said.
It sure looked that way.
The preluncheon chitchat ended promptly at noon when Brody, who was the president of the chamber, herded everyone to their seats, making sure he got one next to Jenna.
“What do you think so far of our business community?” he asked her.
“They all seem really nice.”
“That’s because they are. And they believe in this town, want to really put it on the map. You know, way back in the sixties, when developers first started building down here, they thought it was going to turn out like Vegas or some California beach town.”
“They didn’t reckon with the weather,” Tyrella put in. “Don’t get me wrong. In July, when the sun is out, it’s heaven. And in August a lot of people come down here from the city to cool off. Fall can be nice, too, but winter is rainy and windy and sometimes stays that way clear into June. Not exactly what people want when they come to the beach.”
“Still, we’re working at making the place more attractive to year-round visitors,” Brody put in. “We’ve got the razor clam festival in March and people come down in droves to dig clams. A lot of people come down for Labor Day weekend, too. Then we’ve got the Sand and Surf Festival end of June. And people always come here for the Fourth. The best fireworks show in all of Washington takes place right here on our beach. And, thanks to all the people who bring their fireworks, the city doesn’t have to pay for it. Well, other than overtime for our firemen. We can’t have the dune grasses catching fire.”
“Those are summer draws,” Tyrella reminded him. “We need to find a way to bring people here year-round.”
“You don’t have a convention center here, do you?” Jenna said thoughtfully. “With something like that you could put on events all year long.”
Brody rubbed his fingers together. “Money.”
“Well, if you had plans for one and presented it to voters...”
“They’d vote it down,” he said. “We’ve got a lot of retirees down here living on limited incomes.”
“Yes, but you also have a lot of business owners and working families. Something like that would really help the local economy.”
“Or break the city,” Brody said.
Their servers had arrived by then with salads and fish and chips and that ended all talk of a possible convention center. Probably a dumb idea, anyway, Jenna thought. What did she know about stuff like that? She didn’t even know how to rehab a motel.
Still, if the movers and shakers here at the beach wanted to give their town a popularity boost, it seemed like they’d have to do something. She’d noticed a large chunk of vacant property on the north end of town when she was driving around with Sabrina. Not a bad location for a convention center.
Never mind that, she told herself. You’ve got your hands full with the Driftwood.
And her daughter, who was probably going stir-crazy by now. Jenna vowed to play a game with her as soon as she’d priced carpet. Life was so much easier when Sabrina was smiling.
Speaking of smiling—or not—who was that woman on the other side of the table with the taupe hair and dark roots and cat-eye eyeliner? She was young, thin and hot. And she looked like she’d rather skewer Jenna than get to know her.
Tyrella followed Jenna’s gaze. “That’s Rian LaShell. She owns Sandy Claws—pet toys and supplies.” Tyrella lowered her voice. “I think she and Brody might have had a thing once. And based on the looks she’s giving yo
u, she probably sees you as competition.”
“Probably every single woman in town is competition,” Jenna murmured, making Tyrella chuckle.
“He does appreciate women. Especially good-looking ones,” Tyrella added, giving Jenna a nudge.
Yeah, that was what she needed, another potential cheater. Not.
Once lunch was half-eaten, Brody called their meeting to order. “For those of you who haven’t met our guest today, this is Jenna Jones, Edie Patterson’s niece. She’s going to be managing the Driftwood Inn.”
“About time somebody did something with that dump,” muttered a thin, middle-aged woman in slacks and a pink blouse.
Her hair was as thin as the rest of her and she had frown lines carved into the sides of her mouth. Who the heck was she? Who cared? She wouldn’t be anyone Jenna wanted to hang out with, obviously.
Brody cleared his throat and moved on. “Can our secretary read the minutes from our last meeting?”
Cindy Redmond had her iPad ready and began to read. As she did, Tyrella leaned over and whispered, “Don’t pay any attention to Susan Frank. She’s a pill.”
“What business does she own?” Jenna whispered back.
“Beach Babes.”
No wonder she was cranky. That store was an embarrassment to clothing stores.
Cindy finished reading the minutes from the last meeting and the treasurer, Ellis West, gave his report.
Brody thanked him and then, after old business had been covered, it was time to discuss the upcoming event, the Sand and Surf Festival, which took place at the end of the month.
“We’ve got all our vendors in place,” reported a stylishly dressed older woman named Wilma Spike, who owned the consignment store.
“But we’ll need to get a handle on the garbage thing,” put in the frowning Susan. “All those out-of-towners are going to spread litter everywhere.”
“I think we’ll need to do what we do on the Fourth of July and get volunteers to go along the beach and pass out garbage bags,” said Nora Singleton, who’d slipped in late.
Susan shook her head in disgust. “People are so inconsiderate. How would they like it if we went up to their towns and littered everywhere?”
This was obviously a rhetorical question, and discussion continued, with members reporting in on everything from reserved porta-potties to who would be judging the sand castle contest.
“It sounds like fun,” Jenna said to Tyrella.
“It is. Your daughter will love it.”
“I hope so.” At least that was something Sabrina could look forward to.
The meeting broke up and, after a little more chitchat, the members began to scatter, heading back to their various businesses.
“Don’t forget to come in for your free latte,” Rita said to Jenna.
“That’s how she gets you hooked,” Nora teased. “I’m glad you came today,” she told Jenna. “Don’t know why I didn’t think to invite you myself. Good for you for thinking to,” she said to Tyrella.
“We can always use fresh blood,” Tyrella said.
“Yes, we can. I hope you’re going to join.”
Nora was looking expectantly at Jenna. “Well,” she hedged.
“I know. You’re still finding your feet,” Nora said.
“We’ll give you one more meeting,” Tyrella told her, and grinned. “Then we’ll reel you in. It’s only forty dollars to join.”
Jenna needed to hang on to every dollar she had. She nodded politely.
“I’ll pay your membership for this year,” Nora said to her.
She may have been poor, but she wasn’t a mooch. “No, no. I’ll pay.”
“You can pay next year, after the motel’s up and running.”
Jenna hoped they could stay afloat until the next year. She thanked Nora, said goodbye to Tyrella, skirted around crabby Susan and then left to go see what kind of bargain she could find on carpet.
Ben Samuels, the head carpet guy, was a good-looking middle-aged man with the kind of muscles that could probably lift a roll of carpet as easily as if it were a roll of paper. He had a friendly smile when Jenna introduced herself, which she hoped was a symptom of a big heart.
“Actually, I got a call from Brody. I’ve been expecting you to drop by. Got some remnants I think might work for you.”
“Great,” she said, and followed him past several aisles of carpet rolls and vinyl and laminate samples.
“I don’t think I’ve got enough of the same for all of your rooms, though,” he added, and her heart sank. “But,” he continued, “I do have an idea.”
“I’m open to ideas.”
He took her over to an area where the size of the carpet rolls were considerably smaller, unwinding one in brown. “Can’t go wrong with Stainmaster,” he said. “And brown won’t show the dirt.” Then he turned to another hunk of carpet. This one was blue. Dark blue. Very, very blue. “This one’s not bad, either,” he said.
It sounded to Jenna as if he was trying to convince himself as much as her.
And then there was... “Yikes.” Not the most diplomatic reaction, but it just slipped out of her. “Sorry. I didn’t even know they made orange carpet anymore.”
“Yeah, I know,” said Ben. “And we’ve got some black.”
Black and blue, brown and—ugh!—orange.
“So, here’s my thought. You could do the rooms in different colors, and have different themes. Some could be your Sunrise rooms.”
Jenna had to smile. “Don’t tell me, let me guess. That would be the orange carpet.”
He smiled back and shrugged. “You’ve got the Sandy Shores rooms with your brown, the Seaside rooms with the blue.”
“And the black?”
Ben grunted and rubbed his chin. “Maybe we got enough of the other colors that you won’t need it.”
“Otherwise, the rooms with that will have to be the Stormy Sky rooms,” she joked. But it was a good idea. “I could decorate to match the carpets. Maybe a framed picture of a sunrise in the Sunrise rooms, hang some starfish in the Sandy Shores rooms.”
“You get a lot of good home decor at garage sales down there—people are always selling off lamps filled with shells and clocks shaped like boats.”
“It’s a great idea,” she said with a smile. Then her smile faded a little. “But how much?”
“Come on, let’s go back to the counter and do some calculating,” he said.
Once he’d finished, she found herself wishing he had a different calculator. She could barely afford paint. How was she going to pay for this carpet?
He must have seen her chewing her lip because he said, “Why don’t we set you up with a payment plan? Give me a couple hundred down to seal the deal.”
“Oh, God bless you. That would be great.”
“Hey, I’m happy to help. We get a lot of business from all of you down there and I want to see you all succeed. We can cut labor costs if you take up the old carpet yourself and haul it away.”
Twenty rooms worth of old carpet. By the time she was done she’d be as buff as Ben. She nodded. “I can do that.” She could do anything if it meant saving money.
She left the carpet store armed with determination and excited by the challenge. Making each room unique would be fun. And a great way to express her creativity. Sabrina would probably enjoy helping her with that, and it would give her something to do.
Her carpet and decor plan met with her aunt’s approval when she shared it at dinner that evening. “What a cute idea!”
Even Sabrina looked pleased when Jenna offered the use of her old digital camera and suggested she take some pictures for them to use. She wasn’t smiling when Jenna got down to the how-tos of room transformation, though, looking at her mother as if she was nuts as Jenna went on to talk about moving out the furniture and pulling up car
pet.
“Gross,” she said in disgust.
Pete, who, as usual, had joined them for dinner and was enjoying Aunt Edie’s shrimp casserole, wasn’t any happier. “I’ve got a bad back, you know.”
“I’ve got a bad back,” Jolly Roger repeated from his kitchen perch. “Give me whiskey, give me whiskey.”
“Don’t worry,” Jenna said to Pete. “I’ve got plenty of Advil.”
Both Pete and Sabrina pouted.
“Come on, guys, how about some team spirit? We can do this. And think how much fun we’ll have decorating and how cute the rooms will all look when we’re done.”
“I’ll be dead by the time you’re done,” Pete muttered.
“It has to be done,” Jenna said firmly, making herself ever so popular with her fellow diners.
“Who’s for ice cream?” asked Aunt Edie, a determined smile on her face.
Poor Aunt Edie. She probably felt guilty.
Sure enough, later that night, after Pete had wandered off and Sabrina had gone to the beach to take pictures, she came to Jenna’s room where Jenna was reading Muriel Sterling’s book and half wishing she could smack the ever-positive author with it.
“I shouldn’t have done this to you,” Aunt Edie said, joining the dolls on the window seat.
She looked tired and sad, and frail and ready to crumble. Aunt Edie had always been so full of life, so...timeless. When had time caught up with her?
“You didn’t do this to me, you did it for me.”
“I really did want to help you. But truth be told, I did what I did as much for myself as you. I know the Driftwood Inn is no Hilton, but the memories it holds are priceless. And even though it’s getting old, just like me, I know the place still has some life left in it. I can’t let it go, Jenna. I want it to stay in our family. I want the place to have a future. A good one, with you.”
“It will,” Jenna assured her. It was what Muriel Sterling would have said.
“Well, I’m going to help you tomorrow.”
Welcome to Moonlight Harbor Page 10