Welcome to Moonlight Harbor

by Sheila Roberts

  She made herself stay rooted right where she was.

  He got the message and looked back into the fire. “Yeah, you’re right. Probably not a good idea. You can do better.”

  Pity flooded her heart. Once upon a time this man had plans for his life. Now here he was, staying in a dump, sleeping on the floor and reading Shakespeare. “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t have to.”

  Okay, now he was feeling rejected. Next he’d get up and leave. She didn’t want him to.

  “What did you want to get your degree in when you were saving to go back to school?” she asked.

  “I was going to major in English lit. I’d have gone back as a junior. Planned to get a teaching certificate, maybe a master’s.” He took a deep breath. “I won’t be teaching kids now, not with my background.” He gave a bitter laugh.

  “Maybe what happened to your family is a way of teaching, too.”

  “I’m not broadcasting my past, Jenna. I hope you won’t, either.”

  “Of course not,” she said, shocked that he’d even think her capable of doing that.

  “Don’t look so outraged. People gossip. Things slip out.”

  “Well, not from me,” she said, and took another draw on her wine cooler.

  “I wish I’d met you fifteen years ago,” he said softly.

  For a moment, so did she. And for another minute she thought maybe now was the perfect time to meet. They could both make a new start together.

  She had a pleasant buzz going from her wine cooler, and her hormones had an equally pleasant buzz going from such close proximity to him. She was beginning to feel a little off balance. She started to list in his direction.

  This time he was the one who put on the brakes. He tapped her on the nose. “That stuff’s going to your head. Come on, time to pack it in.”

  He hauled her to her feet and together they doused the beach fire and covered it with sand, effectively smothering it.

  That only took care of one fire. She was still smoldering when she went to bed.

  * * *

  Brody stopped by on Thursday to see if Jenna wanted to go to lunch. A shrimp Louie at the Porthole sounded a heck of a lot better than the tuna sandwich she’d just sent her daughter to the house to fetch. But she was a mess—sweaty and dotted with paint, in faded sweats and a T-shirt.

  “I’m a disaster,” she said, wiping at her damp forehead.

  “Even as a disaster you look good,” he said. “But go ahead and get cleaned up. I can visit with Edie while I’m waiting. Anyway, you deserve a break.”

  Yes, she did. She decided to ignore the fact that she’d have to get right back into her gunky clothes and start painting again once she returned. The sun was out, the day was pretty and the view from the Porthole would be more than worth changing clothes.

  “You talked me into it.”

  They were leaving when Seth pulled up in his truck. Ready to work. With Jenna. She felt suddenly guilty and self-conscious with Brody next to her.

  “I’d better tell Seth I’m leaving,” she said.

  “You have to ask his permission?” Brody taunted. “You’re the owner. You get to go to lunch whenever you want.”

  “I know. But we’ve been working on the rooms together. I want him to know I’m coming back.”

  “Whatever,” Brody said, and leaned against the building, crossing one ankle over another. He looked like a misplaced model in his Dockers and blue polo shirt. Was he aware how well that color set off his eyes? Probably.

  “Hi,” she greeted Seth as he sauntered up to them. Her cheeks were hot. Why was she blushing? What did she have to blush about? “I’m going out to lunch, so how about we start work around one?”

  “Better make it one-thirty,” put in Brody. “It can get busy at the Porthole.”

  And he could always get a table. She suspected he was angling for more time, and felt both flattered and embarrassed. Oh, if Damien could see her now.

  “No problem,” Seth said. “I’ll go ahead and start on my own.”

  “You don’t need to,” she said.

  He shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

  Great. “I feel guilty,” she said as she and Brody made their way to the house.

  “Because you’re taking time for lunch? Come on, Jenna, as hard as you’re working, it’s allowed.”

  “I guess.” Still, it didn’t seem right that she was skipping off and leaving Seth to do everything on his own. She was the one with skin in the game. She should be working every moment.

  “So, how’s it going with the handyman?” Brody asked as they went up the steps to Aunt Edie’s house.”

  “Pete? He’s not quite as useless as he first was.”

  “I meant your other handyman. The mold guy.”

  Mold guy, there was a flattering nickname. Of course, Seth hadn’t been much more complimentary of Brody the house peddler.

  “Seth’s great.” He was more than great. He was noble.

  Brody frowned. “Just how great is he?”

  “He’s a hard worker and he’s really helping out.” And no, he hasn’t kissed me. Darn.

  Brody gave a grunt. “There’s something about that guy.”

  There sure was.

  “You don’t know him very well.”

  She knew him better than Brody could even begin to imagine. “When it comes right down to it, I don’t know you very well, either,” Jenna pointed out.

  “I’m working on changing that,” he said with a smile. Brody Green had a gorgeous smile.

  They entered the house as Sabrina was coming out of it with Jenna’s sandwich.

  “Hi there, kiddo,” Brody greeted her.

  “My name’s Sabrina,” she said, filled with umbrage.

  “Sorry. Sabrina,” Brody corrected himself.

  She ignored both him and her mother’s scolding look, holding the plate out to Jenna. “I made your sandwich.”

  “Thanks,” Jenna said. “I’ll have it a little later. I’m going to run out for a bite.”

  “Together?” Sabrina managed to look both shocked and displeased at once.

  “Yes, together. Put it in the fridge for me, please.”

  “Fine. I don’t know why you had me bother to make it if you weren’t going to eat it,” Sabrina grumbled as she turned back to the kitchen.

  “Sorry,” Jenna said to Brody. “She’s a little grumpy today.” There would be a talk about manners a little later and a reminder that pink hair was on the line.

  Or maybe she’d let this one slide. Both she and Damien had put their daughter through so many changes she probably had emotional whiplash. So maybe she was allowed some grumpiness.

  Anyway, Brody didn’t seem to be offended. “It’s okay,” he said easily. “I’ve got a girl. Remember?”

  Aunt Edie hurried out of the kitchen now, wiping her hands on her apron. “Brody, how nice of you to stop by and take Jenna out to lunch. Would you like some iced tea while you wait for her to freshen up?”

  “No, I’m fine.”

  Yes, he was.

  “Well, sit down and make yourself at home,” said Aunt Edie, gesturing to Uncle Ralph’s old recliner.

  Jenna needed more work than a simple freshening up, but she promised not to be long.

  “Take your time,” Brody told her. “Edie and I can catch up on what’s been going on around here.”

  They caught up, all right. Jenna came back downstairs dressed for lunch just in time to hear him say, “If worse comes to worst, I can help.”

  And she knew exactly how he wanted to help. The skunk! The minute her back was turned, there he was, working on Aunt Edie, trying to convince her to sell.

  “Were you just trying to talk my aunt into selling the Driftwood?” she demanded as soon as they were out the door.<
br />
  He held out both hands in a gesture of innocence. “I was only reminding her that it was an option.”

  Jenna developed sudden amnesia regarding that huge chunk of money she didn’t have. “It’s not,” she said firmly. “And now I can’t help but wonder if there’s another reason you’re being so nice to us.”

  “Oh, come on. Seriously?”

  “Yes, seriously.”

  “Jenna...” he began.

  She didn’t let him get any further. “You just don’t get it, do you? This place is important to us.”

  “Of course it is. And I do get it. But sometimes you have to be practical and face reality.” He pointed to the roof, all dressed up in blue tarp. “You’re going to have to do something about that roof. And what about the mattresses for all those beds? What kind of condition are those in?”

  “I know we need to do some work.”

  “And that takes money. If you’ve got it, great. Go for it.”

  The drive to the restaurant wasn’t exactly a companionable one, and Jenna failed to dredge up a smile as Laurel the hostess seated them. But then Laurel wasn’t smiling, either. You can have him, thought Jenna.

  “Look, I’m sorry I brought it up,” Brody said after their waitress had taken their orders and left. “I just hate to see you guys go under and lose the opportunity to come out well-off.”

  “We wouldn’t go under if we could get an infusion of cash.”

  She must have been looking at him speculatively, because he frowned and said, “My money’s all tied up in other real estate here around town. I can’t afford to take on a money pit like the Driftwood.”

  Neither could she. She sighed.

  He reached across the table and laid a hand on her arm. “I’m sorry, Jenna. Sorry your aunt got you into this. Edie’s a doll, but she’s not very practical.”

  He was right. Uncle Ralph had been the practical one, the one who kept things maintained, paid the bills. The condition of both the motel and Aunt Edie’s bank account were proof that her talents lay in a different direction.

  “I know she’s not. But she’s got vision. You know, the Driftwood was one of the first motels down here. She saw what the town could become. And she sees what the old place could be again with just a little loving care.”

  “And a lot of money.”

  “I’ll have to find a way to get it.”

  “I like you a lot, Jenna, but I’m not driving the getaway car if you rob the bank,” Brody said, making her smile. “But if you need more help around there let me know. I’ll come swing a hammer anytime.”

  And since he’d helped before, she knew she could count on him to do it again. “I’m sorry I reacted the way I did back at the house,” she said once their food had arrived. Her shrimp Louie did look good. Maybe if she could clear the air with Brody she’d actually enjoy it.

  “No worries,” he told her.

  “I thought...”

  “I know. Hidden agenda. Except, that agenda is pretty much out in the open. If you decide you need to sell, I’ll help you. And I’ll kick over my commission to your aunt.”

  She set down her fork and gaped at him.

  “Oh, come, Jenna, do you think I’m such a greedy bastard that I wouldn’t want to help a sweet little old lady like Edie?”

  “Well...” It had crossed her mind.

  “I only have one other thing on my agenda,” he continued.

  “What’s that?”

  “You,” he said with a grin that made her cheeks sizzle and her heart rate pick up.

  “Of course, I like to make money as much as the next guy,” he confessed. “It comes in pretty handy when you’re paying child support.”

  Or spousal support. There went Jenna’s appetite.

  She managed a couple of bites, then gave up and let the waitress box her salad and had Brody take her back to the motel. She felt like she had a giant hourglass strapped to her back, with sand quickly running out. She had to find a way to make money and fast. And she had to get as much done on the motel as soon as possible. If she could get everything done but the roof...

  She’d still have a problem.

  She could hear voices in the kitchen. Aunt Edie probably had Sabrina busy with some culinary creation. Which was good, as Jenna didn’t particularly want Aunt Edie asking what she and Brody had talked about at lunch.

  She slipped upstairs, put on her grubby paint clothes and hurried back to work.

  Seth had painted an entire room in her absence and started on the next. She was both grateful and mortified. “I’m sorry I left you on your own,” she said as she joined him.

  “Don’t be. I don’t need supervision.”

  “No, it’s not that. It’s that this is my place. I shouldn’t have other people doing my work.”

  “Nobody with eyes could accuse you of that.” He stopped and studied her. “What’s got you wound so tight?”

  “Nothing,” she said, dipping her roller in the paint tray.

  “Okay. If you say so.”

  She managed to go a whole five minutes before saying, “We should sell this place.”

  “I wonder where you got that idea.”

  She frowned at him. “Brody’s not trying to make me sell. It’s just that...”

  “I know. You’re up against it.”

  “Where am I supposed to come up with the money to replace that roof? I can’t have people staying here and putting out buckets to catch the rain.”

  “So maybe you just patch the roof this year.”

  “The roofer said the whole thing needs replacing.”

  “That’s what roofers say.”

  “We need mattresses and bedding and...” Her eye was twitching.

  “Hey, hey, deep breath,” he said gently. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you how to eat an elephant?”

  She frowned at him. “No.”

  “Well, that’s your problem.”

  “Okay, how do you eat an elephant?”

  “One bite at a time. Let’s get these rooms painted and your furniture back in them. That’s a big enough bite for right now, don’t ya think?”

  She took a deep breath. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

  They got two more rooms painted that afternoon and Jenna found she was actually smiling by the time they were done. She managed to give Aunt Edie a vague answer at dinner, and she did manage to have a talk with her daughter and reassure her that she wasn’t importing a new man into their life.

  That didn’t mean she couldn’t dream, but dreaming was as far as her wounded heart was willing to go.

  An occasional hiccup or two aside, Sabrina did manage to find a better attitude, so Friday afternoon, after Jenna had painted another two rooms, they made a run into nearby Quinault, where they found a beauty supply store and a clerk who was happy to sell them everything they needed for Sabrina’s new look and to give Jenna several tips, as well.

  “Start with something temporary until you find the color you really like,” she advised. “Then once you do, you can go with—

  “Not something totally permanent,” said Jenna, making her daughter scowl.

  “A demi perm is good,” the woman said. “That will last twenty to thirty washes. Oh, and speaking of washing, don’t wash your hair the day you’re going to dye it,” she advised Sabrina. “That will strip all the oils you need to protect your scalp from irritation.”

  The products began to mount up. They needed to bleach Sabrina’s hair first, then they needed a purple toner to ensure a perfect pink. Dyes, bleach, cape...money. Yikes!

  But Sabrina was beaming when they left the shop. “I can hardly wait till tomorrow,” she said.

  “Tomorrow afternoon,” Jenna reminded her. “I have to work in the morning.”

  “I know,” Sabrina said, resigned but happy.


  * * *

  “I hear you’re going to get all gorgeous,” Tyrella said to her later when the women started arriving for their Friday night gathering.

  Sabrina nodded eagerly. “Mom’s doing it tomorrow. It’s gonna be awesome.”

  “I’ll bet it is,” Tyrella said, smiling at Jenna. “Good for you,” she added, once Sabrina had disappeared upstairs with some of the cheese and crackers Nora had brought and saltwater taffy from Cindy. “You’re a sport.”

  “Hair grows,” Jenna said, quoting her mom. Mom was right. Pink hair would be fun. In fact, she wished she was brave enough to do something crazy with her hair. But all her bravery was needed for pulling the Driftwood together.

  “Caroline is bound to be impressed,” said Nora. “She arrives tomorrow. Maybe we can get the girls together for a visit on Sunday.”

  “Good idea,” Jenna said. Her daughter finding someone to hang out with would take one big worry off her mind.

  Chitchat and fun eventually turned to sharing and dreams. It started with much raving over Courtney’s latest design, a dress with a vintage flair and a scalloped neckline.

  “How I wish I was young again,” Aunt Edie said. “I would certainly wear something like that.”

  “I’d wear it now,” Annie said, looking longingly at it.

  “I’m glad to hear it, because guess what you’re getting for your birthday,” Courtney told her.

  “Really?” Annie was practically glowing.

  “You need to hurry up and go into business for yourself,” Tyrella said to Courtney.

  “Once I get some more money together.” She frowned. “Coming down here after my divorce was the right thing to do, I know. I’ve felt so free ever since. But staying... I’m not exactly getting rich at Beach Babes. I’d talked with Susan when she first hired me about maybe selling some of my designs, but that never seems to get off the ground. Maybe I should go back to Seattle and get a job in an office somewhere. Or at Nordstrom’s.”

  “It costs a lot more to live in Seattle than it does here,” Nora said.

  “Yeah, but I’d make more.”

  “But you’d lose all of us,” Annie reminded her.