Fiona's Flame

by Rachael Herron

  About the Book

  She’s carried a torch for him for years. Now they’re both feeling the heat …

  Fiona Lynde is a fairly straightforward girl. As the owner of the Cypress Hollow gas station and garage, Fee’s Fill, she’s not one for pretty dresses or fussy make-up. In fact, most days she forgets to brush her hair. But she does have one guilty little secret: she’s been in love with Abe Atwell for over ten years …

  Problem is, Abe – the town’s handsome harbormaster – barely knows she exists.

  Until … Fiona petitions the council to demolish a deserted old lighthouse, for Abe is just as determined to preserve the local landmark. But why does Fiona want to tear down the building that was once her childhood home? And why is Abe, whose father drowned in the lighthouse’s shadow, so desperate to save it?

  Battlelines are drawn – just as the spark between them is finally ignited …

  Contents

  Cover

  About the Book

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Meeting Minutes

  Snowflake Earrings, By Janet McMahon

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Also by Rachael Herron

  Eliza’s Gift

  Lucy’s Kiss

  Naomi’s Wish

  Cora’s Heart

  Copyright Notice

  Loved the book?

  For the Rachaelistas, my darlings.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Knitting warms a body twice. – Eliza Carpenter

  Fiona leaned back and crossed her black cowboy boots over each other. If anyone had to make their way down the aisle, she’d draw her legs back, but right now this was the best seat in the house. No one in the City Hall council chambers was going anywhere.

  She should have brought popcorn.

  On the stage, Mayor Finley’s face was turning a deep purple, a stark contrast to her perennial all-yellow outfit. She spluttered, ‘Elbert Romo, this shouldn’t even be an issue. Nudity is something one indulges in on the way from one’s bedroom to the shower. Not at the corner of Main and Third.’

  Elbert Romo, his face as creased as his overalls, said, ‘You’re right, Mayor. But it’s the damn tourists.’

  Old ranchers like Elbert didn’t ever say the word tourists without prefacing it with damn. Fiona figured it was probably something they learned in the back room at Tillie’s, where they hung out most mornings drinking coffee and gossiping.

  The mayor said, ‘The tourists aren’t the problem here. What we’re talking about is outlawing public nudity on our public beaches.’

  Elbert clapped his hands together. ‘But they’re the ones that started this. They come, they decide Pirate’s Cove is the best place around to drop their skivvies. Then they put it on the internet! On those, you know, those websites.’

  Fiona watched the mayor take a deep breath and push the errant gray strands of hair back from her temples. ‘Make your point, Elbert.’

  ‘Once it went online, we got famous. Those sites even tell you where to park, did you know that? And they tell where the rope to climb to the bottom is hidden. You kidding me? That rope used to be a Cypress Hollow secret. You could get horse-whipped for givin’ that info to the wrong person. Now we got nudies comin’ from all over the state, just to get our sand stuck in their cheeks. And I ain’t talking about the ones on your face.’

  ‘We already know all this. That’s why we’re discussing the ban tonight.’

  Elbert said, ‘I know. But no disrespect, ma’am, the thing is – a lot of us have found out how right the damn tourists are.’

  A light laugh rippled around the room. Daisy, Fiona’s best friend, leaned over the arm of her wheelchair and whispered in Fiona’s ear, ‘Best show in town.’

  The mayor, even redder now, said, ‘Would you care to explain that, Elbert?’

  Elbert stuck a thumb under the strap of his overalls. ‘There are more’n a couple of us, ma’am, who’ve kind of seen the light, as it were, and it took the damn tourists pissing us off for us to figure it out. Pete Wegman, Jesse Sunol, and me, we went down the rope one day to shoo ’em off for good.’

  That must have been something to see, thought Fiona. Three old men, climbing down that rope, kicking away from the cliff-face, dangling over the sand. It was something Fiona hadn’t done in years, and she was an easy forty years younger than the youngest rancher in question.

  ‘When we got down there, one nekkid damn tourist dared us to take off our clothes.’

  A light laugh went around the packed council chambers. Everyone else was enjoying this as much as Fiona was.

  Elbert shrugged. ‘Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it, is what I always say. And I’m here to say, the body is a beautiful thing.’ He unclipped one strap of his overalls. ‘And to feel the sun where it don’t normally shine, to feel the ocean breeze caress your … well, lemme tell you, it’s nice.’ He unfastened the other strap. Gasps rose to meet the sound of giggles in the room.

  Fiona whispered to Daisy, ‘He wouldn’t.’

  Daisy just shook her head.

  Elbert’s overalls hit the polished wooden floor of the city chambers. His faded, blue engineer’s cap was next to come off, his gray buzz cut standing at attention underneath. Then he started undoing the buttons on his blue, button-down shirt.

  One by one, the buttons opened. His chest hair was as gray as the hair on his head.

  Daisy held her hand over her eyes. ‘I can’t. I just can’t.’

  Fiona poked her in the shoulder. ‘You have to.’

  Elbert was now in front of the crowd, wearing only tighty-whities which were no longer either tight or white. His skinny, wrinkled body was surprisingly tanned. He held himself proudly and tucked his thumb into the elastic of his underwear.

  The mayor gripped the podium so hard it rocked on its base. ‘Mr. Romo. We will have our community discussion without visual aid assistance, thank you very much!’ The microphone squealed with feedback.

  Elbert shook his head. ‘It’s a point I
gotta make. We voted, and the boys picked me, seein’ as I have the biggest package.’

  Next to Fiona, Daisy squeaked, her hand still over her eyes. Someone did a drum roll with their fingers on the back of a chair.

  And then Elbert Romo dropped his last remaining piece of clothing.

  Chaos erupted. Some stood – others remained in their seats, immobilized by laughter. Some cheered, others clapped.

  Both hands over his head, Elbert turned in a slow circle. He waited for the room to quieten and then said, ‘My point is, well. Look at me. Eighty-nine and a half. And thanks to a life of good hard work and a bit of time in the sun, I’m looking fit as a fiddle. I’m proud of my body, ladies and gentlemen, and being in the great outdoors with it is probably gonna let me live forever. Down with the ban on public nudity.’ He drove his fist up in the air. ‘Naked is good! Naked is right! Naked is good! Naked is right!’ He marched down the middle aisle, chanting, pumping his fist. By the time he hit the back door, he’d been joined in the chant by so many people that the overhead rafters shook with the noise.

  Fiona’s stomach hurt from laughing.

  It took Mayor Finley ten more minutes of gavel-rapping to get order restored, and even then it was clear she knew she’d lost. She directed her words to the line of city council members sitting to the left of the stage. ‘We don’t even need to put it to a vote, do we?’

  Laughter was the answer she got.

  ‘Fine. Public nudity – at Pirate’s Cove, and no place else – will not be prosecuted. Moving on.’ She ignored the applause. ‘That’s enough for tonight. Grace, thanks for doing the minutes. They’ll be up on the website tomorrow, folks. In two weeks, we’ll be talking about the lighthouse.’

  Fiona stopped clapping. She glanced at Daisy and then back at the mayor.

  ‘Fiona Lynde, I’m looking at you.’

  Fiona gasped. She tugged on her earring, schooling herself not to take it off. What she really wanted was the soothing warmth of the metal between her fingers. But instead she folded her hands in her lap.

  ‘Yes, you,’ continued the mayor. ‘I want to hear about that plan you keep pestering me about, the one to bring down the lighthouse and put in an accessible public garden.’

  It was just an idea. She hadn’t pestered the mayor about it. Not officially, not really. She might have mentioned it a couple of times. In person and in email. That was all.

  ‘And who was it talking about turning it into a museum? Abe Atwell, was that you?’

  Fiona’s stomach lurched. Abe Atwell? She turned in her seat and scanned the room.

  God, there he was.

  A man playing cat’s cradle.

  She would have bet that game couldn’t be sexy. Right? But if anyone could make something childish like that sexy, it would be Abe Atwell, damn him. There was just something about the rugged harbormaster, slouched back in his chair, boots kicked out ahead of him, his hands moving with that white piece of string – he could have been making nets or tying ropes. It looked right. And it made her heat up inside, in an embarrassing, alarming way.

  Concentrate, she told herself. This was about the old wooden lighthouse. About making things right. Not about the way her heart raced when she watched his fingers. He kept his eyes down, his face thunderous. He obviously wanted to be called upon as much as she did.

  Daisy whispered, ‘Maybe you’ll finally talk to him now.’

  Fiona shook her head once. Hard. No way. She hadn’t managed to have an idiotic crush without speaking to him for years for nothing. She couldn’t ruin her track record. She cleared her throat and said as loudly as she could, ‘It was only an idea.’

  The mayor didn’t hear her. ‘Fiona, what was that?’

  The room’s chat quieted. Fiona could feel Abe’s gaze on the back of her head. Had he ever even looked at her before?

  ‘It was just an idea,’ Fiona said. She bit her bottom lip and said more quietly, ‘It’s a good idea, though.’

  ‘Great. Put together a proposal and present it at the next meeting. Abe, do the same.’ She lowered her yellow-framed glasses and looked around the room. ‘They’re the only two so far who have approached me about the Coast Guard turning over the lighthouse to our local government, but the forum will be open. The council will decide in closed session after that meeting what we’re going to do with the building. That’s all, folks. Please keep your clothes on, at least until you get past the security of your own front door, and have a good night.’

  Fiona felt Daisy clutch her forearm. ‘You’ll be great! You can rehearse your pitch with me, and you’ll finally get that eyesore torn down.’

  Fiona, though, just drew her black cowboy boots back out of the way of Mrs. Luby, who stepped over them with small, pinched steps. What if people hated her idea? What if they ended up hating her? She tugged off her earring and worked the metal between her fingers.

  And the idea that Abe might also be presenting?

  The hook of the earring snapped between her clenched fingers.

  CHAPTER TWO

  When asked if a knitter should plan her knitting, I always say, ‘Yes! Make a spreadsheet!’ And then I laugh and laugh and laugh. – E. C.

  ‘Ready!’

  Abe’s coiled line played out over the post as the Rising Hope bumped alongside the dock. Zeke, excitable as always, grabbed the line and pulled, almost hurling himself off the dock into the water.

  Abe reached for the second line. ‘Easy there! No, use that cleat. Buddy, I got it, in case you’ve got better places to be.’

  Zeke rubbed his hands together and then tugged down the tiny, blue, knit beanie that wasn’t even beginning to cover his head. He waved at the seven disembarking tourists. ‘I know. I know. I don’t mind, though. I want to help, want to make sure she doesn’t go anywhere you don’t want her to.’ He turned to a startled-looking woman wearing a red coat. ‘Hello. Good afternoon, how are you? Did you see any whales while you were out? You’re looking lovely today, aren’t you? Good captain, isn’t he? Good old Abe. Yep, I just think he’s the best.’

  The woman in the red coat started to answer him but Zeke ignored her as he stepped onto the boat’s gunnel. ‘Permission to come aboard, Captain? What say you? Can I come up? Walk the plank?’

  How many times had Abe told Zeke he didn’t need to ask? His vessel wasn’t part of the damn navy and he wasn’t going to deny him access just for the hell of it. But it gave his friend such a thrill, Abe only told him to knock it off every other time or so. Today wasn’t that day. ‘Permission granted.’

  ‘Nice day, nice day.’ Zeke rubbed his hands together again – one of his many tics – and nodded hard. ‘Need a little help?’

  Zeke often helped out on Abe’s fishing charter vessel. An ex-pro linebacker turned jack-of-all-trades, Zeke was good at just about everything he did with his hands. He made his living doing odd jobs, since he’d long-since blown the big football money he’d made. Abe often got him to help out, either at the dock or on the sport-fishing and whale-watching trips he led.

  Today, though, Abe didn’t need the help. He was back from the only trip planned so it was an easy day, which was good since the pile of paperwork in his harbormaster office was threatening to topple over if he looked at it wrong. Winter was Abe’s slowest time – he ran the 53-foot yacht-fisher every day he could, but due to weather or lack of tourists he didn’t always go out. Only squid and crab were being caught now; the salmon and rock cod trips wouldn’t start till spring. Apart from the whale-watching trips and the occasional, chilly coastal viewing trips to the Farallon Islands, he was down to one run every couple of days.

  ‘I thought you were supposed to be working at the bait shop this afternoon,’ Abe said to Zeke.

  Zeke snapped his fingers with a loud crack. On such a huge man, any small movement was large. ‘I don’t go in until tomorrow morning, but that’s gonna hurt, ’cause I’ve got karaoke at the Rite Spot tonight.’ When Zeke had started hosting his Tuesday karaoke nights, there had
been complaints from a group of regulars who liked to have prayer meetings in the back pool room of the Rite Spot. Tuesday nights had been their chance to pray for the lost souls of Cypress Hollow over a pint or two and maybe a quick smack of the pool balls. Karaoke, they said, wasn’t conducive to the prayerful setting they’d been hoping for, and they had taken it over the head of the bar owner, Jonas, all the way to city council. Mayor Finley had rapped her gavel three times briskly (it was rumored she used it at home to call her husband to the dinner table), declared that any usage of Jonas’s bar was up to him and didn’t even let it go to a vote. Jonas had responded by buying Zeke an extra microphone and adding a gospel CD to Zeke’s machine. Now, on any given Tuesday night, the preacher from Baptist Memorial could be heard freestyling ‘Baby Got Back’ before adding his own quick prayer in the last couple of lines.

  Zeke said, ‘I won’t even get home till after 2 am and then I’ll have to be up early to sell bait. Joni wrote the schedule wrong. Can you believe that?’

  Abe could, actually. Perpetually distracted, Joni could be told flatfish and write down albacore. He moved toward the bow, picking up the trash his passengers had left behind. ‘So what are you up to now, then?’ There was always something left behind – paper coffee cups, Snickers’ wrappers, broken pencils. Once he’d even found a used condom in the head – he’d tried very hard not to revise his image of the two middle-aged school teachers from upstate New York who had been on that trip. Hey, if people felt the need to get their freak on while whale-watching, at least his boat was getting some action. It sure wasn’t seeing it from him.