Welcome to Moonlight Harbor

by Sheila Roberts

  “I promise I won’t,” Jenna said.

  Win-Win and the missus were coming out of the kitchen now. The child had a cookie in each hand and his mother held a paper plate piled high with them.

  “We’re leaving, babe,” Winston said to her just as she started to sit down.

  “Leaving? I thought we were going to stay for the week.”

  “We’re not wanted here,” he said, looking loftily at Jenna. “And I never stay where I’m not wanted.”

  And here was yet another thing for which to be thankful.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  To Do:

  Go to chamber of commerce meeting

  Talk to Brody about selling

  Don’t cry!

  “Who were they?” Sabrina asked when Jenna came into the kitchen in search of lemonade and a strong dose of sugar.

  “Just a cousin nobody likes,” Jenna said, and snagged a cookie.

  “They’re not staying, are they?”

  “No. I think we’ve seen the last of Cousin Winston.” For a while, anyway. Knowing her cousin, he’d soon be hard at work repairing old offenses and trying to ingratiate himself with Aunt Edie.

  Pete knocked on the kitchen door. “How is she?” he asked as Jenna let him in.

  “Much better. She even came downstairs for a little while.”

  The relief on his face was touching. He covered it up with a brisk nod. “You tell her not to worry about making dinner. I’ll pick us all up something at the Seafood Shack.”

  Pete the mooch springing for a meal? It was all Jenna could do not to say, Who are you? Instead, she said, “Thanks, Pete. That’s sweet of you.”

  “Don’t want anybody saying I don’t pull my weight around here,” he said. Then, pointing to Sabrina’s culinary creation, he added, “I’ll have a piece of that coffee cake. Probably won’t be as good as Edie’s, though.”

  Ah, yes, there was the Pete they all knew and tried to love.

  * * *

  It looked like life in Aunt Edie’s beach house was almost back to normal. Actually, better than normal because the snotty, unhappy alien Sabrina had been replaced by a girl who was happy to help and done complaining. At least temporarily.

  Aunt Edie was a little subdued, but at least she was up and moving around again.

  As for Jenna, she was resigned. They were going to have to sell the Driftwood. They couldn’t limp along with a half-renovated motel.

  “It’s still killing me,” she said to Seth when he came over Monday afternoon to see if she wanted him to do anything. “And it almost killed her. I thought we’d lost her on Saturday.”

  “Shit. Is she okay now?”

  “Pretty much. She’s trying to adjust and put a good spin on things, but I know she’s heartbroken. This old place is her baby. How do you give up your baby?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, leaning against the front porch. “At least your girl’s back.”

  There it was, the rainbow in the storm that Mom always talked about. “Yes, and it’s good to have her home again. I’m just sorry she had to see the ugly side of her father.”

  “She would have at some point,” Seth reminded her.

  “I know.” Jenna shook her head. “I wish I could have spared her that.” She sighed. “I wish a lot of things. I’d love to be able to find a way to make things work out here. You probably won’t have a room much longer,” she added. “It would be great if we could find a buyer who’d keep the place just as it is, but I suspect whoever buys the Driftwood will tear it down to build something bigger.”

  With no character. And if that happened it really would kill her aunt. She bit her lip, willing herself not to cry.

  “You don’t know that for sure,” he said.

  “No, but I strongly suspect it. Oh, well,” she added with a fatalistic shrug. “It is what it is and there’s nothing I can do about it. We’ll sell the place, pay off the bank, and live happily-ever-after on whatever’s left and Aunt Edie’s social security and whatever I can make as a massage therapist. And Pete will set up a tent in the backyard.”

  “Or maybe he’ll finally move into your aunt’s bedroom,” Seth teased, making Jenna scowl. “However it all shakes out, you’ll be okay. You’re a survivor. You’ll find a way to land on your feet.”

  “I hope I don’t break all my toes in the process,” she said.

  * * *

  Tuesday was the Moonlight Harbor Chamber of Commerce meeting. Jenna attended, figuring that even when she didn’t have the Driftwood Inn she’d still qualify for membership thanks to her massage therapy business. Networking was important.

  She wasn’t very excited over the kind of networking she was going to have to do on this particular day. Trying to smile and be positive when people congratulated her on her lucky win and asked her how the renovations were coming was downright painful.

  “I’m afraid much of the money had to be shared with my ex,” she said as she stood visiting with some of the business owners, managing to leave out all the adjectives she longed to add. “So, we’re at a standstill.”

  “What are you going to do?” asked Rita.

  “I’m going to talk to Brody.”

  “You’re selling?” Ellis West looked both shocked and disgusted.

  “I think we’re going to have to. I’ve run out of money. We can’t open up the place in its present condition.”

  “That’s a damn shame,” he said.

  “It’s reality.” Reality sucked.

  Jenna made her way to where Brody stood, talking with Tyrella. “Hey, there,” he said to her. “How’s it going? When does the new roof go on?”

  “It doesn’t,” she said.

  “Herbie can’t fit you in? I’ll talk to him.”

  “It’s not that. I don’t have the money.”

  “How can you not have the money?” Brody asked. “Where’d it go?”

  “It’s going to my ex. Well, not all of it, but a chunk. Between that and taxes, I don’t have what I need for the roof, let alone bedding, bathroom floors...” An image of the fallen-down fence and the disaster pool popped into her mind. “And the pool.” Not to mention paying off the bank. “You were right all along. We need to sell. Will you help us?”

  “Sure,” he said, looking far from happy over getting the listing. “Jenna, I know I advised you to sell, but I’m sorry you have to. I really am.”

  She wanted to say a polite thank-you, but her throat squeezed over the words like a boa constrictor and all she could do was nod and try not to tear up.

  “There has to be something we can do,” Tyrella said as Rian LaShell came up to talk to Brody.

  Jenna shook her head. She was out of ideas.

  “You know, I’ve been thinking about this,” Tyrella said.

  She didn’t get a chance to go any further. “Let’s all take our seats,” Brody called to everyone, bringing an end to the chitchat.

  “Thinking what?” Jenna asked, not wanting to let go of a promising conversation.

  Patricia called Tyrella over to sit with her. “I’ll bring it up when we get to new business,” she said to Jenna, then went to join Patricia. They instantly had their heads together and Jenna wondered what they were up to.

  She finally gave up trying to imagine. There wasn’t anything she could think of that could possibly help at this point.

  Lunch was served and Jenna, seated between Brody and Ellis, could only pick at her fish and chips.

  Halfway through lunch, Brody called the meeting to order. Jenna tried to listen to the various reports but her thoughts kept drifting. What could she have done differently? Wasn’t there some way they could hang on to the Driftwood?

  Of course there wasn’t. As for staying in the house, would Aunt Edie really be happy remaining there and seeing someone else with what had
once been hers? How would she feel if some big-name chain moved in and took over?

  “Any new business?” Brody asked.

  They were on to new business already? Jenna tried to pull herself away from her miserable thoughts and pay attention.

  “Yes,” Tyrella said. “We need another festival.”

  “What else is new?” Susan Banks said sourly.

  “What did you have in mind?” Brody asked.

  “A fundraiser. We need to save the Driftwood Inn.”

  That got Jenna’s attention. She looked at Tyrella in shock.

  “She just won a ton of money,” Susan protested. “Why on earth do we need to jump in and give her more. No offense,” she said to Jenna.

  “Because Uncle Sam and her ex took most of it. She needs money for a new roof or she can’t open. And she needs...” Tyrella turned to Jenna. “What else do you need?”

  Jenna’s cheeks burned under Susan’s unsympathetic glare. She stumbled down her list. “But I don’t expect anyone to give me money.”

  “None of us can spare that kind of money,” Susan said. “A lot of us are struggling to keep our own doors open.”

  “Perhaps we need to think in terms of a yearly event where we raise funds to help struggling businesses or help new start-ups,” said Patricia Whiteside. “Once in a blue moon we all need help.”

  “That’s what we could call the festival,” Nora said. “The Blue Moon Festival. I’m sure Sherwood could help us set up a nonprofit account. Right, Sherwood?”

  “Well, uh.”

  “Of course he can,” Patricia answered for him. “I think this is an excellent idea. How many businesses have we seen come and then go because they couldn’t afford to keep their doors open long enough to establish a customer base? You all know the challenges of being a tourist-driven business when that business is seasonal.”

  Everything she said made sense, but Jenna felt her whole face and neck on fire as Patricia spoke. Jenna Jones, the town beggar.

  “We’ve had a lot of discussion about trying to figure out ways to bring people down here,” said Nora. “Everyone loves a festival. Think how well the Sand and Surf did.”

  “When would you hold it?” Susan asked suspiciously.

  “As soon as possible,” said Tyrella.

  “We’ve just had the Fourth of July,” Susan pointed out. “And that was a mess to clean up after.”

  “August,” said Tyrella. “We could hold it the first weekend in August. People are still in vacation mode and haven’t started their back to school shopping yet.”

  “That only gives us a month to plan,” Susan protested.

  Ellis jumped in. “What’s to plan? You open your shops up, call in some vendors and everybody kicks in a share of their profits. There’s always musicians looking for a venue to play at and artists who want to sell their artwork. We set up a bunch of booths on the pier and charge people for the use of them. The church ladies do bake sales, we get some carny rides in. We’re good to go.”

  “And just where do we get the money for advertising?” Susan demanded. “Our money for the year is all budgeted.”

  “I’ll kick in five hundred,” Brody said.

  “So will I,” Patricia said. “And I’ll give a thousand to start our fund.”

  “I’ll donate five hundred to the cause,” said Tyrella.

  “Me, too,” Nora said.

  “I’m strapped for cash, but I can design the posters,” said Rian LaShell.

  Jenna could hardly believe what she was hearing. Hope and guilt warred inside her. Hope won. Maybe, just maybe, the Driftwood could be saved.

  Before the meeting ended a vote had been taken and the motion to establish the First Annual Blue Moon Festival had carried. A committee had been established, consisting of Tyrella, Patricia, Ellis, Rian and Brody, and Sherwood had been put in charge of setting up a 501(c)(3) for the new nonprofit, which would exist under the umbrella of the chamber.

  “I don’t know how to thank you all,” Jenna said, looking around the room, teary-eyed.

  “No need,” said Patricia. “When one of us succeeds, we all succeed. We should have thought of something like this years ago.”

  “Looks like you might want to hold off on listing the Driftwood,” Brody said to Jenna after the meeting broke up.

  “It looks that way,” she said with a smile. She couldn’t stop smiling. “Thank you. So much.”

  “I told you the money would come,” Tyrella said, and gave her a hug.

  “Yes, you did. And now I need to get home and tell Aunt Edie the good news.” This was the medicine her aunt had needed all along.

  She found Aunt Edie resting on the couch, Sabrina reading to her from her dystopian mutant teen novel. If Damien could see their daughter now...he still wouldn’t want to be bothered with her. His loss. If he wanted to slack off on visitation that was fine with her. And anyway, Jenna didn’t want to share.

  “Guys, you’ll never guess what happened at the chamber meeting,” she said, rushing into the living room. “We’re going to save the Driftwood Inn!”

  “For real?” Sabrina asked, eyes lighting up.

  “I don’t understand,” said Aunt Edie.

  Jenna recounted the events of the meeting.

  “That means we don’t have to move!” Sabrina exclaimed. This from the girl who, only a short while ago, was dying to leave.

  Aunt Edie put a trembling hand to her heart. “I can’t believe it.”

  “It’s true. I was there. We’re going to make it, Aunt Edie. We’re going to save the Driftwood.”

  “We need to celebrate,” Aunt Edie said. “Sabrina, why don’t you and I make some cookies? We’ll have a beach fire tonight.”

  “Are you sure you’re up for that?” Jenna asked, concerned.

  “Oh, yes. This has given me a new lease on life. We need to party. Don’t we, Sabrina?”

  Sabrina was all over that, and the couch and the book were abandoned and Jenna was sent to invite Seth to join them.

  “No shit,” he said when she told him the news.

  “No shit. The town is really coming through for us.”

  “People helping each other, novel idea,” he cracked. “Think it’ll catch on?”

  “We can only hope.”

  Once again, a bonfire blazed on the beach. Pete had two helpings of Aunt Edie’s beans and gobbled half a dozen of the oatmeal cookies she and Sabrina had baked. Seth played his guitar and they sang “Found a Peanut” and “Ninety-nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall.” Pete thought up a new ghost story to tell about a girl with pink hair who drove away the ghosts from a haunted motel only to be eaten by a giant squid that left Jenna and Seth chuckling and Sabrina frowning.

  Aunt Edie didn’t last long, announcing that she was tired, and Pete escorted her back to the house. Sabrina went in soon after to write in her journal, and Seth and Jenna stayed behind to let the fire die down.

  “I still can’t believe how quickly everything’s changed,” she said, watching a piece of burning wood break and fall into the flames.

  “Life can turn on a dime.”

  “I guess the trick is to be ready to turn with it. Thanks for...being there the other night.” That kiss. That had been worth a million dollars.

  “I didn’t do anything, but I’m glad someone’s come to your rescue. If I’d had any money I’d have done it.”

  “You gave me comfort.”

  “Comfort’s good. Money’s better. You need to find yourself a rich man.”

  Where had that come from?

  “Get together with somebody with money and a good credit rating and you’ll never have to worry about the Driftwood again.”

  “If I’d found someone with money, then this festival would never have happened. Maybe,” she added thoughtfully, “all our struggles here h
ave been for a reason. Maybe the people of Moonlight Harbor needed a catalyst to help them think bigger than they’d been thinking. Maybe we all needed to realize how much we need each other.”

  He cocked a brow at her. “No man is an island?”

  “Or even a peninsula,” she cracked.

  He smiled and moved a little closer, put an arm around her. “Jenna Jones, you’re something special.”

  Was she? Nah. “I don’t think so.”

  “I do,” he said, and brushed her lips with his.

  Oh, baby.

  He gave her lips another little brush.

  Keep it up.

  And then he got serious and she turned into a melting marshmallow again. Boundaries. Where were those pesky boundaries when you needed them?

  He found them just as she was about to go over the edge and pulled away, straightening her top. “I’m thinkin’ we shouldn’t be making a habit of this. Bonfires are dangerous.”

  Yes, and a girl could get burned. But darn, she’d been enjoying the heat.

  He stood up and held out his hand. “Come on, time to go in.”

  “Do I have to?”

  “We both have to,” he said, and together they put out the fire.

  * * *

  Aunt Edie was her old chipper self again when her friends came over on Friday. Everyone was excited about the upcoming festival.

  “We’re going to have a booth and sell sundaes, and floats,” Nora announced.

  “Susan’s not doing anything,” Courtney said in disgust.

  Why am I not surprised? Jenna thought.

  “Which is fine with me, because I’m going to have a fashion show on the beach and sell some of my designs. I’ve already got a primo spot. It pays to know important people,” she added, grinning at Patricia.

  “I think it will be lovely,” Patricia said, “and I’m going to be one of her models.”

  “I hope you and Sabrina will, too,” Courtney said to Jenna.

  “For sure,” she promised.

  “If I can sell enough pieces, then maybe I can quit,” Courtney said. “In fact, maybe I will, anyway,” she added with a snap of her gum. “I’m getting tired of being Susan’s doormat.”