She smiled down at it. “It’s one of my designs.”
“It’s gorgeous.”
“It would look great on you,” Courtney said. “One of these days, I’m going to have my own clothing line and put on a fashion show at the Porthole. Maybe you and your daughter will be models for me in exchange for getting to keep the clothes?”
“No maybe about it,” Jenna said. “That would be a for sure.”
Courtney’s friend Annie was as shy and quiet as Courtney was outgoing. She was a pretty brunette, clad simply in white jeggings and a faded T-shirt printed with a picture of a smiling quarter moon. No fancy manicure for her.
As the evening wore on Jenna noticed her rubbing her right shoulder a lot. She moved over to sit next to Annie on the couch. “Is your shoulder bothering you?”
Annie blushed and waved away Jenna’s concern. “It’s nothing.”
“I’m a massage therapist. Let me see if I can work out some of the kinks.” Annie’s protests were weak enough to convince Jenna the woman was only being polite, so she moved behind her and went to work.
“Oh, my gosh, that hurts so good,” Annie said with a groan.
“Whoa, what’s this?” demanded Courtney.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you all. Jenna’s a massage therapist,” said Aunt Edie. “She’s going to set up business right here at the house.”
“I’ll be your first customer,” Tyrella said.
“Then I’ll be your second,” said Cindy.
Jenna smiled. Good. She could use all the business she could get.
“Your traps are a little tight,” she told Annie. “Are you under any stress?” She had to be with the man she was married to.
“No more than anyone else, I guess,” Annie replied.
Courtney gave a snort. “Yeah, right. She may as well know right off what the rest of us know. Your husband’s a shit.”
Annie’s muscles bunched under Jenna’s fingers. “I get it,” Jenna assured her. She found a rhomboid and worked it.
“Oh, my,” Annie yelped. “That goes all the way up my neck.”
“You get trigger points where the neck is knotted,” Jenna explained. “It refers pain to other parts of the body. This one in your shoulder is referring right up your neck.”
“In other words, her husband is a pain in the neck,” Courtney said.
“Maybe,” Jenna said.
Courtney was trying to drive home a point, but in light of what Jenna had gone through and what Annie was going through, it wasn’t funny. And nobody laughed.
“I guess that was tacky, huh?” Courtney muttered.
“Just a little,” Cindy said. “Greg’s not going to change,” she told Annie. “You should kick him out.”
Annie sighed. “I can’t afford to. Anyway, he’s fine when he’s not drinking.”
Courtney gave a disapproving frown. “And when is that?”
“He’s started AA. Things are going to improve.”
“He’s started AA before,” Courtney reminded her.
“I’m trying to keep us a family, for Emma’s sake.”
“Yeah, but what kind of example are you setting for Emma?” Courtney argued, making Annie tense up all over again.
Jenna suspected these two had had this conversation before. She didn’t blame Courtney for wanting to help her friend, but what to do with a problem husband was a very personal decision. Was Courtney married? Did she understand the whole family dynamic dilemma thing?
“I know, I know. I don’t have a kid,” Courtney said as if reading Jenna’s mind. “But I had a loser husband, and I don’t regret cutting him out of my life.”
“It’s different when you have a child,” Annie said softly.
Jenna sighed. Yes, it was.
“Well, we’ll just keep praying for him,” Tyrella said firmly. “Pray that demon alcohol right out of him.”
“I say we beat it out of him,” Courtney muttered.
“I say we change the subject,” Nora said, and after that the evening’s conversation turned to lighter subjects—what new books the women were reading, whether or not the latest movie showing at Seaside Cinema was worth seeing, who was dieting, who had given up.
At one point there was a discussion about the upcoming festival and the hope that it would bring in some new visitors.
“And some return visitors,” Cindy said.
“I’m sure it will,” Nora told her. “I hear we’re supposed to have a hot summer, which will be good for tourism.”
“I hope so. We need to bring in more business than we did last summer if we’re going to make it through the winter,” Cindy confessed.
Her words sent a cold shiver down Jenna’s spine. She wasn’t sure they were going to make much money at the inn before winter. She hoped between her massage business and Aunt Edie’s social security they could hang on until the next summer.
“Okay, ladies, let’s make sure we all buy a ton of chocolate,” Nora said, and the others smiled and nodded.
“It’ll be tough to force myself to eat more chocolate but I’ll try,” Courtney joked.
“Don’t worry, we’ll get you through winter,” Tyrella promised, demonstrating the commitment the people of the little beachside community had for each other.
“It’s got to be hard to keep going when the bulk of your business is seasonal,” Jenna said, hoping someone would contradict her.
“It is,” Nora admitted. “But we’re all here because we love Moonlight Harbor.”
“Life’s good at the beach,” Courtney said, “as long as you can pay the bills.”
“We just need to keep working on ways to bring people into town,” Nora said. “We’re not that far from Seattle, and Olympia’s only an hour away.”
“Our mayor keeps talking about making things happen,” Tyrella said, “but so far we’re not seeing much.”
“We do have those way finders now,” Nora said.
Tyrella made a face. “Street signs shaped like giant shells. That will bring the tourists.”
“Change takes time,” Nora reminded her. “Anyway, it’s a beginning.” Obviously, she was a fan of the mayor.
Time. How much time did Jenna have?
The evening ended around ten, with hugs for all, and Jenna went up to her bedroom, feeling like she’d put down some good roots in the sandy soil of Moonlight Harbor. Now, if they could just find a friend for Sabrina, life at the beach would be really good.
She checked in on her daughter, who was still texting away, and ordered a switch to a book so she could settle down for sleep. It wasn’t too hard to persuade Sabrina to do that as she loved to read and was caught up in a dystopian tale of a mutant teen girl with superpowers.
Jenna wished she had superpowers. If she did she could find a way to use them to make a huge pile of money for the motel. Except superheroes never used their powers for ignoble and boring things like money.
She flopped on her bed and began texting her sister about her adventures.
I’m so jealous, Celeste texted. You get to live down at the beach.
You did look at the pictures I sent, right?
That can all be fixed, Celeste texted back breezily. It’s all cosmetic.
Cosmetics for hotels don’t come cheap. I need a new roof. No $.
We’ll think of something.
Maybe Celeste would. Her sister was the creative one. When they were kids she could craft circles around Jenna and specialized in turning clamshells and beach pebbles into charming characters complete with eyelashes and beach hats. When she wasn’t doing that she was often curled up in a corner with a notepad, scribbling stories. She had enough imagination for ten people.
After hearing about the mysterious Seth Waters she’d decided he was either a burned-out navy SEAL or one of America’s most wanted crimin
als come to the beach to hide out.
Maybe he was. Of course, he could also be the type of man who didn’t like to talk about himself. Who knew? Jenna wished she did. There was something fascinating about the man that pulled her like the moon pulled the tide.
Or maybe she was just sex starved, because Brody managed a pretty good pull, too.
What was the deal with Seth?
So, anything happening with Sethalicious?
Her sister was a mind reader.
Not interested.
She’d been fascinated by Damien, too, and look where that had gotten her.
You can’t give up on love.
Oh, yes, she could.
I want to come down and meet everyone, texted Celeste. Hook me up with Seth if you don’t want him. He sounds like a hunk.
What about the new Mr. Wonderful?
Hee, hee. Yeah, him. He’s great. Sooo sexy. And fun.
And responsible? You did say he has a job, right?
Of course he has a job. He’s a cop. It doesn’t get any better than that.
Has he used his handcuffs on you yet?
What do you think?
A noise downstairs caught Jenna’s attention. Aunt Edie had gone to bed. Sabrina was reading about the end of the world.
You there? prompted Celeste.
Yeah. Thought I heard something.
What?
Nothing. Just my imagination.
But there went her imagination again. It sounded like someone was in the kitchen. There it goes again. And there went her heart rate, picking up.
Call 911!
It’s probably the wind.
But the wind didn’t open cupboard doors. Now Jenna’s right eye was twitching. She’d locked both the front and back doors.
Who would break into Aunt Edie’s house? It didn’t exactly look like Millionaire Acres.
I’d better go see who’s down there. Or maybe I’d better hide under the bed.
Jenna told herself to stop being such a baby. She had to be imagining things.
Oh, boy. There went her imagination again.
Call the cops!
I’ll be back, Jenna texted, then slipped off the bed and tiptoed to her bedroom door. She opened it a crack and listened. Was someone moving around down there? What did she have for a weapon?
She remembered the pepper spray she’d always carried in her purse when she’d gone for walks after work in case of rape or mad dog attack. Good thing she never cleaned her purse. She fished out the can and tiptoed back to the door. She’d never used the stuff, wasn’t even sure it worked, but it was better than nothing. Unless the intruder had a gun. She swallowed and tiptoed across the landing, heart thumping, eye twitching.
Maybe she should call the cops. Blink, blink, blink. Thump, thump, thump.
She started down the stairs. Just like the idiots in movies who went into the dark basement all by themselves and then got their throats slit.
That was her. Idiot Girl.
There was someone in the house. The kitchen light was on. What kind of dumb crook turned on the light?
“I’ve got a gun,” Jenna yelled. “And I’ve called the police.”
“What?” replied the burglar.
The kitchen door opened and Jenna grabbed her pepper spray and aimed. And got a nice dose in the face.
Chapter Ten
To Do:
Paint rooms
Fly kite with Sabrina
Get eye drops
Pain, horror, misery! With a screech, she bolted into the kitchen, knocking over the burglar, and ricocheting off the table, groping for the sink. Her face was on fire. Her eyeballs were going to melt.
“What the hell are you doing?” demanded the burglar from behind her.
Pete? What was Pete doing in the kitchen this time of night?
“You could have broken my hip.”
“Never mind your hip. My eyes,” Jenna cried, fumbling for the faucet.
Pete turned it on and shoved her head underneath the water. “Of all the dumb things to do.”
First, he’d scared the snot out of her, now he was practically drowning her. She shoved his hand away, and positioned her eyes under the cool water. Misery, torture.
“You shouldn’t have that stuff if you don’t know how to use it,” he scolded.
“I never had to use it. And I was scared. What are you doing in here, anyway?”
He shoved something into her field of vision. Through the curtain of water it looked like a jar of mayonnaise. “I was making a sandwich.”
“At eleven at night?”
“I got hungry. So sue me.”
“How did you even get in?”
“I have a key.”
Were her eyes ever going to stop burning? She rubbed them and whimpered.
“Water alone isn’t gonna do it,” Pete said. “Hold out your hand.” Jenna held out her hand and he squirted dish soap into it. “You gotta wash out the oils.”
Jenna soaped up her eyes and let out a screech.
“Keep washing,” he instructed.
“How do you know this, anyway?” He was probably simply trying to torture her, the old goat.
“I demonstrated in the sixties.”
Never mind his political beliefs. “What were you doing with a key to the house?”
“Your aunt gave me one,” he replied, sounding offended. “In case she fell or something.”
“Or in case you get the munchies in the middle of the night?” Talk about taking advantage.
“I earn my keep,” he muttered.
Yes, she’d seen how he’d earned his keep before she arrived. She held out her hand again. “You don’t need a key anymore. I’m here.”
“You don’t own this place yet.”
“Pete, give me the key. You’re not going to be coming in at all hours scaring the tar out of us.” It was hard to look authoritative when you had your head stuck under a faucet.
He stood there for a moment, then finally slapped the key in her hand. “I’m gonna talk to your aunt,” he threatened.
“So am I,” she shot back.
From outside a siren sounded. “Did you call the cops?” he demanded.
“No.”
“Well, they’re here,” he snapped, and to prove it there was a banging on the front door.
“Give me a towel,” Jenna demanded.
“Get one yourself,” he said, leaving Jenna to fumble for a kitchen towel and stomping off toward the back door. He opened it to find a police officer standing there.
The officer was short and husky with a receding hairline and a bulbous nose, and he looked about as intimidating as a mushroom. “Put your hands on your head and step back,” he said.
Rule follower that she was, Jenna obeyed immediately.
“Not you, miss,” said the cop. “I can tell you’re not a perp.”
“I’m not a perp,” Pete growled as he put up his hands. “I live here.”
The banging on the front door continued and the officer lifted his shoulder and spoke to it.
“I’ll go let your partner in,” Jenna said, and hurried down the hall, wiping at her stinging eyes as she went.
The officer at the front door was much better looking than his partner, probably thirtysomething, with sandy-colored hair and hazel eyes. He wasn’t much taller than his partner but he sure filled out his uniform well.
He took in Jenna’s pink Old Navy camisole and her sleep shorts and blushed. “Are you all right, ma’am?” he asked as she let him in.
“Yes, I’m fine. I didn’t call the police.”
The officer nodded. “I know. Your sister did. She said she was on the phone with you when you had an intruder.”
“My intruder turned out to be our
handyman,” Jenna said, leading him down the hall. “I’m so sorry we bothered you.”
“No bother. That’s what we’re here for.”
He had a nice, rumbly voice. She hadn’t seen a ring on his finger. For such a small, sleepy town there sure seemed to be plenty of single men around.
“Will you tell him I’m not a burglar?” Pete demanded when she returned to the kitchen with her police escort. He was still standing in the middle of the room with his hands up and looking none too happy about it.
“He’s not,” Jenna said as she wiped her poor watering eyes. “This is our handyman. I didn’t know he had a key to the house.”
The short officer looked him up and down. “Where did you get the key, sir?”
“Edie gave it to me,” Pete snarled.
The officer frowned and nodded.
“I’m sorry we bothered you,” Jenna added. “This was all a big misunderstanding. I was on the phone with my sister and made the mistake of telling her I heard a noise.”
“It’s better to be safe than sorry,” said Officer Mushroom.
“Says who?” Pete demanded.
She walked the two officers to the door and thanked them for coming.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” asked the tall one.
She would be after she’d poured another ten gallons of water over her face. She wiped at her eyes. “I’m fine. I just accidentally sprayed myself with pepper spray.”
“Keep washing your eyes,” advised Officer Mushroom.
She nodded and opened the door.
“And call us anytime,” he added as they walked out. “We’re not busy.”
That was comforting. She didn’t think she’d want to live in a community where the police were busy all the time. She waved goodbye to the officers, then went back to the kitchen to deal with Pete. She found him putting together a bologna sandwich.
His cheeks turned russet under her disgusted gaze, but he braved it out, calmly returning the mayo and bologna to the fridge. Then he picked up his sandwich and started for the door. “I could have had a heart attack, you know.”
They should be so lucky. “Well, you didn’t. You’ll live to mooch off my aunt another day,” she retorted.
“You should talk,” he shot back, and left, slamming the door behind him.
Welcome to Moonlight Harbor Page 15