Snowfall on Lighthouse Lane

by JoAnn Ross

  She wasn’t frigid. She enjoyed sex, although early on, when some, more insecure, males had blamed her for her inability to climax, leading to some very uncomfortable moments, she’d become the best actress in Los Angeles. If there’d been an Oscar for fake orgasms, she would have gone home with the gold statue every year.

  But she’d always known, deep down, that it wasn’t her fault. Nor theirs. Well, except for those few duds who’d spent too many years being stoned or coked up to perform. The problem had always been that they were the wrong men. They weren’t Aiden Mannion.

  Just as she’d come to that realization, he broke off the kiss and—no!—backed a few steps away. “Not here,” he said on a voice roughened with the lust still zinging through every atom in her body. “And not now.”

  “Where have I heard that before?” she said.

  “Damn.” He dragged both hands through his black hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to put us back in that place. I was just thinking about your mother.” He nodded toward the short hallway to the bedroom. “Because, when I take you, and because I’m a modern guy who believes in equality, when you take me, I’d prefer not to have an audience.”

  The fog of lust was starting to lift from her brain. “That would probably be a good idea,” she said, noting that he said when, not if.

  As if the universe was against them, the radio on his open jacket called out a code. “Gotta go,” he said. Then bending down, instead of the sorry-but-duty-calls-so-I-have-to-take-my-boner-and-and-leave, curl-her-toes-again kiss she was expecting, he dropped a light one on the tip of her nose. Her nose?

  “See you Thanksgiving. I’ve been really hungry lately,” he said as he opened the door and let a gust of cold wind in.

  With a wicked bad boy wink he was gone, leaving Jolene to wonder if that had been a metaphor for something entirely different.

  “You have a dirty mind,” she muttered, as she went off to check on her mother.

  * * *

  GLORIA HAD MOSTLY come out of her Xanax fog as soon as the cold air had hit when Aiden had lifted her out of the little car. But she wanted to give him and Jolene time to talk, and yes, so what if she might, just possibly, be eavesdropping, just a bit? A daughter was still a mother’s little girl whatever her age and it was a parent’s duty to watch out for her.

  At least that was what she conveniently chose to believe. But it was true. While Aiden and Jolene had been too young when they’d first fallen for each other, she’d known they’d had a serious relationship they’d tried to keep secret. As far as she knew, the only other person in town who hadn’t missed the signs was Sarah, whose day job was watching teenagers like a hawk.

  Gloria had never told Jolene that, afraid they’d do something foolish, she’d had a talk with Aiden that spring before he’d gone off to the Marines. And, from what she could tell, he’d never told, either. Looking back, she’d made a tactical mistake, but how could she have known that her daughter would have ended up suffering such dire consequences? She hadn’t, after all, instructed Aiden to break up with her. Just try to hit the pause button while he was away.

  But as bad as it had been, it all seemed to be working out all right. And if her health problems were the universe’s way of evening things out by getting her daughter and Sarah’s son back together again, well, she’d take it.

  She heard the footsteps coming down the hall. The door opening. She yawned, stretched, and opened her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she lied. “I’ve no idea what came over me.” That much was true. She couldn’t remember anything from the time she’d laid down on that table in the surgical room to when Aiden had carried her into the house. If she were twenty years younger, and he wasn’t obviously still in love with her daughter, she might have found that gesture wonderfully romantic. As it was, she’d found it convenient.

  “The Xanax,” Jolene said. “Remember when you had your tooth crowned? We had to call Mr. Wagner to come pick you up in his taxi at the dentist because I didn’t have my permit yet.” Earl Wagner had been the only taxi in Honeymoon Harbor. She wondered if he was still driving.

  “I do remember that. I passed out as soon as I stood up from the chair. I hope I didn’t make a fool of myself today.” She noticed Jolene’s flinch. “What did I do?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Try again. I can always tell when you were lying.”

  “You didn’t know everything,” Jolene said.

  “Like when you and Aiden spent that night at the Mannion’s coast house?”

  “What?” Her daughter’s eyes widened. “How could you possibly know that? And for the record, we didn’t do anything. At least we didn’t have sex.”

  “I knew because Sarah and I talked. And kept track of things, which wasn’t that difficult in that case because Aiden didn’t come home that night, either. And no, before you bother to give me a lecture about the right to privacy, I’m not going to apologize. Someday you’ll be a mother and realize that giving a child total privacy and free rein can prove dangerous. As for how I know you didn’t have sex, Aiden promised me that you wouldn’t.”

  Damn. A bit of the Xanax still must be in her system. She hadn’t intended to say that.

  “You. Talked. With. Aiden?” Jolene narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “Back then? About us having sex?”

  “I did. He assured me that I hadn’t needed to worry.”

  “He never said a thing. Even in the market.”

  “You talked about that in the market? In the freezer section while Madison Covington was listening in on the two of you?”

  “She wasn’t there yet. And we didn’t talk about that. Just about whether or not you and his mother knew we’d been seeing each other.”

  “Darling, I’m a hairdresser. I can tell the difference between a curling iron burn and a hickey.”

  “Well.” Jolene blew out a breath. “Since we’re having this mother-daughter sharing thing, I think this is where I warn you that you told everyone in the room during your procedure that you’d decided to take Michael Mannion as your lover.”

  The bedroom that had been warm despite the cold November rain falling outside, suddenly chilled. “I did not,” Gloria gasped, appalled. “You’re just saying that to get back at me for not being entirely honest with you back then.”

  “You really, truly did say that. And you weren’t dishonest back then. Exactly. However, if you’d asked, I’d have told you that we weren’t having sex. Not because I didn’t want to, because I did. So much it hurt. But because I didn’t want to ruin my life.”

  Jolene’s cheeks flamed. It seemed they were both having trouble with safe words during this minefield of a conversation. “Not that I was talking about your life being ruined.”

  “Of course you were. And I’m glad, in a way, that my situation, as rocky as it admittedly was, seems to have proven instructional. Besides, as I said, getting pregnant turned out to be a plus because I have you.”

  “And I have you.”

  “And Aiden? What are you going to do about him?” Gloria was more than happy to skim over the subject of Aiden’s uncle.

  “I don’t know. It’s complicated.”

  “Life’s complicated,” Gloria said. “Love even more so. But you’re both reasonable, logical adults now. You’ll figure it out.”

  Jolene sat down on the edge of the bed and gave Gloria a hug, careful not to touch bodies so she didn’t cause her mother any pain. “How are you feeling?”

  “Still a bit woozy. And I think I could use another package of peas. Dr. Lancaster was right about my breast being a little sore.”

  “You’ve got it. You’ve also got your TV. And I see you already have books on the table. And your iPhone for music. Oh, and Aiden got you a chocolate croissant and some madeleines.”

  “He did?”

  “Lemon glazed, because Desiree told him tha
t’s the kind you liked.”

  “That’s so sweet of him.”

  “It was.” Gloria could tell Jolene was a bit conflicted about that. Which was okay. They had time to work things out.

  “He also bought coconut ones because he noticed I ate so many at the reception.”

  “See.” Gloria settled back on the pillows Jolene had plumped up. “He’s perfect husband material. I certainly would love him as a son-in-law. He’s ever so much better than the others.”

  “You never met any other men I went out with.”

  “Which tells the tale. If they’d been worth being serious about, you would’ve introduced me to at least one of them when I’d come visit.”

  “You’re not wrong. I never made it to the Meet the Mom point in a relationship with any of them.”

  “I already know Aiden. So, you don’t have to go through that uncomfortable situation.”

  “Why don’t I make you some soup and tea,” Jolene suggested, dodging the issue, “and get you a tiny but annoying bell in case you want to summon your daughter house wench who’ll promptly come fetch whatever the countess may require.”

  “It’s contessa,” Gloria said, recognizing the Gilmore Girls episode where Rory was feeling both emotionally and physically bad and her mother had taken care of her. “And I’ll start with the croissant and tea, please. Then you can get into pajamas and we’ll watch that episode together.”

  “It’s a date.”

  Jolene kissed her mother’s forehead, and had just reached the door, when Gloria called out, “I love you, my darling daughter.”

  She turned. “I love you more, my bestest mom.”

  “Ah, but I’ve loved you longer.”

  Unable to debate that point, Jolene left the room to fetch the contessa’s croissant and tea, leaving Gloria to imagine walking her daughter down a white runner toward Aiden Mannion in the lovely Herons Landing garden Amanda Barrow had created for Brianna’s B and B. She’d have to ask both Brianna and Amanda when the gardens would be the most glorious. Because her daughter deserved everything to be perfect.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “SO,” BODHI SAID, as they drove away from the lighthouse, “how did things go?”

  Aiden slanted him a look. “You don’t know?”

  “I told you I could be discreet. And that includes not being around the two of you. Besides, you make a guy realize what he’s missing.”

  “Hell, I’m sorry.”

  “Like I said, it is what it is. That doesn’t mean I have to like it all the time, though.”

  “I thought paradise was supposed to be perfect.”

  “Maybe it is. After what you left unfinished is settled.”

  “You get to do that?”

  “I don’t have a clue. But, again, if not, why else am I here?”

  “You really weren’t told?”

  “Sorry.” He shrugged in a “who knows” gesture. “The big guy isn’t exactly in my circle of acquaintances.”

  “You realize your little glimpses of what appears to be an afterlife can be damn frustrating.” If they weren’t hallucinations. Or echoes of Aiden’s own thoughts.

  “It’s not that easy for me, either, dude. So, did you hit on the redhead?”

  “A guy doesn’t kiss and tell.” Yet, if Bodhi had only told him about his affair with the DC’s wife, both he and Jess might still be alive. Unintended consequences.

  “Then you did kiss her,” Bodhi said. “You’d be a fool if you didn’t. She’s hot. And definitely one of a kind. Hell, if you didn’t want her I’d go for her if I were still alive.”

  “Apparently you’ve never seen The Ghost and Mrs. Muir.” Another old movie his mom had made him watch.

  “Nah. I wasn’t into that old stuff. And before you try to claim it’s a classic, may I point out that you’ve never seen The Endless Summer. That really is a classic.”

  Since there was no response to that, Aiden said nothing.

  After refereeing a fender bender between two harried shoppers in the parking lot of Marshall’s Market that ended up with both calling their insurance agents and delivering the last of the turkeys from the food bank to local families down on their luck, Aiden decided to stop by Mannion’s for lunch.

  As they drove through town, the fire department was getting a head start on Christmas, using their cherry picker truck to hang tinseled garlands of lights across the street and snowflakes on the old-fashioned Victorian lampposts. All the storefronts had decorated for the season, as well, getting ready for Honeymoon Harbor’s version of Black Friday.

  “It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas,” Bodhi said. “By the time they finish, this place will have turned into Bedford Falls.”

  His mother had decreed that movie a Christmas Eve tradition. Wondering how, while he and his siblings had been drinking cocoa with marshmallows and watching Jimmy Stewart’s transformation, Jolene and her mother had spent their Christmas Eves, Aiden realized yet again how fortunate he’d been.

  They’d nearly reached the office when his cell rang. With news he could’ve done without.

  The sniper business had taught Aiden patience. Being a detective had been much the same. Hours of tedious waiting. And hell, making out with Jolene back in high school, and now, not just taking what he knew they both wanted, wasn’t helping because just because he could be patient, didn’t mean he’d ever learned to like it.

  Jolene was worth waiting for, especially now that she had this complication with her mom. But getting the news that the two detectives he’d wanted to talk with about Bodhi’s cold case had both taken time off to spend a long Thanksgiving weekend with their families sucked.

  “Perks of seniority,” Bodhi said. “We would’ve done the same thing.”

  That was true. Bodhi would’ve hit the beach for the weekend, while Aiden probably would’ve come home to Honeymoon Harbor because his mom always made a big deal about all holidays, but especially this time of year. She was like a walking, talking Hallmark commercial.

  He’d grown up surrounded by people he knew would always have his back, while Jolene had that mess of a dad and a mother who worked long hours to make ends meet. No wonder they were so close. Often more like sisters. He didn’t want to think how hard it would be on her if anything turned out to be seriously wrong with Gloria. It had to be hell for Jolene, waiting for test results. And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do but stand by and be there for her. It didn’t seem enough, but...

  Damn, he thought as he pulled into the pub’s parking lot. He wasn’t used to not being able to control events. Sure, as a Marine, things could always and would go wrong. They didn’t call it the fog of war and snafu for nothing. But at least there were actions to take, protocol to follow.

  The same in the police department, which had felt comfortable because it was the closest thing you’d find to a civilian military. It had rank structure, organization, guidelines and rules designed to get you the results you were looking for. Being a detective had involved a lot of boring door knocking and digging up informants, but at least you weren’t sitting on your butt waiting for someone else to handle the situation.

  White fairy lights framed the mirror behind the bar, and a tree decked out with colored lights and shiny balls brightened the corner over by the pool tables and dartboards.

  “Wow, you’ve turned into Martha Stewart,” he told Quinn as he took it all in.

  “Ha ha. Mom and Brianna came in loaded with boxes of stuff like they were storming Omaha Beach. There was no stopping them.”

  “That’s not quite true,” Seth, who’d apparently had had the same idea, said. “He did manage to man up and refused to let them put Christmas music on the sound system.”

  “Thank God.” Aiden slid onto a stool next to Seth. “Speaking of Brianna, where’s your bride-to-be?”

  �
�The B and B is fully booked for Thanksgiving with lots of people here to celebrate with their relatives. The noise level of all the catch-up cross-talking rivals the decibels at a Seahawks home game, and they’d all booked a dinner, so I decided to make my escape.”

  “Rather than help out my little sister?” Quinn’s eyes narrowed in a way that looked as if they could laser right through a guy.

  “Hey, she told me I’d just be in the way. She’s hired some students from the college’s culinary program. It lets them experience a real time situation. Win-win.”

  “That’s good. I’d hate to have to ban you for deserting her. After all, for a long time you were my most loyal customer.”

  Quinn had told Aiden that for the two years after Seth’s wife had died, he’d come in every night, order a burger to go, drink one beer, then go home to eat in an empty house. Until Brianna had returned to town and saved him from himself.

  “Since you still make the best wings in the state, I’d never risk banishment,” Seth said. “I’ll take an order of the maple-whiskey-bacon ones. And the blue cheese burger with fries.”

  “You know, we do have things other than burgers on the menu,” Quinn said.

  “I know. You’ve even added salads, which still mystifies me. But there’s something to be said for tradition.”

  “You’ll get no argument from me. I happen to know that women are the ones who choose where they’re going to eat on a date. And apparently they often like salad as well as burgers and fries.” Quinn turned to Aiden. “How about you?”

  “The same wings. But pulled pork on a kaiser bun with beans, coleslaw and the hot spiced fries.”

  “A man with an appetite. I like that,” Quinn said approvingly.

  He put the orders on the clip in front of the open window leading back to the kitchen, where Jarle Bjornstad, a Norwegian who’d given up cooking on fishing boats when he’d gotten tired of freezing his ass off during Alaska’s crabbing season reigned supreme. Fortunately he was one helluva cook because at six foot seven, with shoulders as wide as a redwood trunk and arms—one that boasted a full sleeve tattoo of a butcher’s chart of a cow—Aiden doubted anyone would ever dare send anything back.