Snowfall on Lighthouse Lane

by JoAnn Ross

  “What’ll you have to drink?”

  “That Winter Blizzard Brew. That is, by the way, really good.”

  “I didn’t give up the big legal bucks to brew shit beer,” Quinn said. “Bottle or tap?”

  “Tap.”

  “So,” Quinn said, “how’s Jolene’s mom doing?”

  “She was sleeping when I left.” Seth hoped. “She didn’t seem in any pain.”

  “So I heard,” Seth said. “Apparently she told one and all that she’s got her eye on your uncle for a lover.”

  “Where the hell did you hear that?” Aiden asked.

  “It was on the town’s Facebook page.”

  “Damn. What, exactly, did it say?”

  “It wasn’t that specific. It was something about what merry widow had staked her claim on Honeymoon Harbor’s resident artist? It didn’t take a genius to figure it out.”

  “I didn’t realize you read the Facebook page,” Quinn said to Seth as he put the pint glass in front of Aiden.

  “I don’t. Brianna checks it a couple times a day to check for comments about Herons Landing. She doesn’t want to miss a complaint. She’s never received one, but you know what a perfectionist she is.”

  “Sort of like the guy she’s marrying,” Quinn pointed out. “I watched you redo this place. I didn’t realize it was possible to measure to one sixty-fourth of an inch.”

  Seth shrugged. “I didn’t take over a century-old family business to build shit,” he said, tossing Aiden’s words back at him. “Mildred Marshall posted it.”

  “If that woman had lived back East in the Revolutionary War days, Paul Revere could’ve saved himself that midnight ride,” Quinn said. “So, how’s Jolene holding up?”

  “Fine,” Aiden said. “She’s tough. Like her mom. She’s naturally worried about the cancer thing, but the breakup with that actor doesn’t seem to have fazed her. Except for maybe seeing herself on those magazines in the market.”

  “Well, at least it opens the field for you,” Quinn said as he filled an order for two glasses of wine a waitress had brought over. “About time.”

  “Did everyone know about us?”

  “Hey, I shared a bedroom with you growing up. I knew what time you got in. And the shaving lotion in the bathroom sure as hell never smelled like gardenias. But Jolene did.”

  “She’s got a lot on her plate right now,” he said. “We’re taking it slow. Besides, she’s going back to LA after New Year’s.”

  “And you’re going to let that stop you?” Seth asked.

  “Geez,” Aiden complained. “What are you now? A sorority girl?”

  “Now that Seth’s proposed to our sister, he’s turned into an expert in love and marriage,” Quinn said. “He’s nearly as bad as Mom when it comes to trying to fix people up. I’ve warned him if he even tries to turn his evil powers on me, he’ll be banished from here for life.”

  “You’re going to be my brother-in-law,” Seth said, appearing unafraid. Probably because he knew Brianna would never let her eldest brother get away with that threat. “I just want you to be as happy as I am.”

  “I am happy. As a clam.”

  “So, you don’t miss being one of Seattle’s rising young lawyers?” Aiden asked.

  “Not for a minute. I’m doing what I want, where I want to, which is all that matters. Life’s too short not to make the most of it.”

  “Your big brother speaks truth,” Bodhi, who was standing behind the bar, checking out the top-shelf labels, said.

  “Jolene came back here to work on her organic skin care business,” Aiden said. “But this thing with Gloria threw a wrench into the works. Apparently she’s got a good customer base down in LA, but doesn’t have enough money to expand. Or the expertise because she’s been too busy with her TV and movie makeup gig.”

  “It’s a learning curve,” Quinn said. “I spent a long time studying microbrewing and running a restaurant before I jumped into this place. Fortunately, I was able to find the perfect brewmaster to make it happen. Brendan O’Keefe, who graduated from UC Davis brewing program, worked in a few places in San Francisco and Eugene before he found my ad for a master brewer on a brewbiz site. Having established a reputation for using local ingredients in his beers, he’s been inspired by all that we have available here.

  “You know, after a couple years in litigation, which I didn’t enjoy because it reminded me of high school debating—”

  “Speaking of debating, I stopped Covington IV for going over seventy in a thirty-five zone the other day,” Aiden broke in. “He was his usual narcissistic self. I also nailed him for the tint on his window, but left off the reckless driving because I didn’t want him to sic his father on Mom and Dad.”

  “Good call. But I would’ve been happy to see him behind bars,” Quinn muttered, still apparently pissed over that state disqualification.

  “It still worked out. I learned about the courtesy cards—”

  “Courtesy cards?” Both Seth and Quinn said at once.

  “Yeah. A get-out-of-a-ticket-free card.”

  “I’ve heard of departments that use those. Lots of times sheriffs’ departments because that’s an elected position and it builds goodwill at election time. Ten years or so ago, Seattle PD had a sticker off-duty cops could put on their family cars that pretty much did the same thing. But I had no idea the HHPD had them,” Quinn said.

  “We don’t anymore,” Aden said.

  “Is that why you fired James?” Seth asked.

  “A good lawyer could’ve gotten him out of that,” Quinn said. “And last I heard, you also arrested him.”

  “For embezzlement, setting up a fake charity and a bunch of other stuff the DA is going to toss at him. He’ll probably end up doing some time.”

  “Karma’s a bitch,” Quinn said with a wicked smile. Oh yeah, he was still pissed about that debate. “Where I was going until you made my day with that newsflash,” he continued, “is that I switched to mostly doing business law, including some start-ups. I could help Jolene with the incorporation and other legal tax stuff. If she plans to ship to different states, it could get complicated.”

  “I think that’s her long-term goal. But it’s a case of the chicken and the egg. If she can’t afford to expand her line and produce enough products, she can’t afford to expand. And there’s no point in trying to expand, if she doesn’t have the inventory to sell.”

  “I’ll try to talk to her at Thanksgiving,” Quinn said. “If she’s interested, Gabe could help her with the growth and scale part of the plan.”

  “He buys and sells bazillion-dollar businesses,” Aiden said, of the brother who’d left the state after graduating UW, gotten a masters in finance at Columbia, and gone on to make a fortune. “Why would our very own Wizard of Wall Street even consider such a small deal?”

  “Because he’s in the weird position of having too much money, so along with contributing a lot to charity, he’s also started investing in businesses that interest him.”

  “My heart, if I had one, would be bleeding for him,” Bodhi said. “Talk about your first-world problems.”

  “I didn’t realize he was doing that,” Aiden said.

  “Well, you kind of went off the grid for a while,” Quinn pointed out.

  “More like off the rails,” Bodhi corrected. “But same thing.”

  “The past couple years he’s invested in smaller businesses. Like an eco-toy company based in Rochester, New York. And a mobile pet grooming business over in Tacoma that he’s helping to start selling franchises.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Hey, do you know how much money Americans spend on their pets?”

  “No.” Neither did Aiden care. But apparently Gabe did.

  “Neither did I until he told me. Last year Americans spent nearly seventy billion dollars on their
pets.”

  “You mean million.”

  “That’s what I said. Nope. It’s billion. With a capital B. And it’s growing.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah. He took that one on last year. I wrote the franchise agreement. It felt good to use my law degree for good rather than greed.”

  “Um, not to knock your brother, because I’ve always liked him a lot, but billions sounds a bit greedy,” Seth suggested.

  “Not when you’re easing people’s minds by having their animals groomed at home. The groomer who started the company only uses made-in-the-US allergy-free products that haven’t been animal tested. Gabe seems to enjoy being an angel investor more than he does the big-bucks stuff. Made in America, going green, as Seth managed to do when remodeling this place, and organic are all hot topics, right now. I could see him being interested in Jolene’s skin care line.”

  “Is he coming to Thanksgiving dinner?”

  Quinn laughed. “Gabe take a day off? Not happening. No, he’ll probably be at the computer, wheeling and dealing, and trading dollars for euros, yens, pounds, rupees or whatever the hell else he does. But you might want to give him a call and see what he says. Hell, her mother’s proven to be a good entrepreneur, and since Jolene in no way takes after her father, I’d say the apple probably didn’t fall far from the tree.”

  “Thanks. I’ll do that.”

  First he’d have to think of some way to pull it off without having her think he was trying to take over and tell her what to do. Because the one thing he had figured out was by leaving Honeymoon Harbor when she did, and not only making a living in Hollywood, but as the Emmy nomination proved, achieving some serious recognition, she was every bit as independent as her mother.

  “You wouldn’t last a week with a woman who wasn’t,” Bodhi said, showing an apparently new, spooky ability to read his mind. “Whatever happens with the investigation, which I’m starting to wonder if making sure you two end up together is really what I’m here for, I may just stick around for your wedding.”

  As Jarle came out of the kitchen with a huge aluminum tray laden with food designed to keep cardiologists in Beemers for years, Aiden couldn’t decide whether to take that statement as a promise or a threat.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  JOLENE HAD LEFT her mother napping after watching their Gilmore Girls episode and went into the kitchen to test the recipe Ètienne had sent her.

  A mere fifteen minutes after putting the casserole dish in the oven, Jolene took a tentative taste. Wow! The cheesy corn and bacon side dish turned out as insanely good, as promised. Even better than she’d hoped. She immediately called Shelby.

  “Tell Ètienne that I love him. If he wasn’t already engaged to you, I’d have his children.”

  “You don’t want children,” Shelby reminded her.

  “I would for this dish. No wonder it sold out when he had his food truck. Hell, maybe, since you’ve staked your claim on him, I’ll just marry this side dish.”

  “I’m glad it worked.” Jolene could hear the smile in Shelby’s voice.

  “It totally did. And the best part is that he’s saved me from poisoning anyone on Thanksgiving.”

  “Always a plus. So, how did things go with your mom?”

  “The test went well. And it was quick. About half a Pioneer Woman and ten minutes of Trisha Yearwood.”

  “I never will understand why you watch so many of those shows when you don’t cook.”

  “It’s food porn. I have very imaginative taste buds. Anyway, if we don’t get the results back tomorrow, we won’t hear until after Thanksgiving. Though the part of me that’s worried sick it’ll be positive is thinking it might be better to wait until afterward to hear the news.”

  “You’d just be anxious and unable to enjoy the day anyway,” Shelby said. “You can compartmentalize it in one of those infamous mental boxes of yours and concentrate on celebrating the day.”

  “That’s a point. I don’t have a single doubt that Mom can handle whatever comes up. One of the hardest parts will probably be hiding the fact that I’d be terrified. But right now I have all this anxiety because I don’t know what to expect. I should’ve asked the doctor for a Xanax when she prescribed one for Mom. Oh, funny story...”

  Jolene paused and listened to the bedroom TV that was now playing a Christmas romance movie, one that her mother loved. There were times that she suspected that her having worked on three of them meant more to her mother than her Emmy nomination. Especially since, when hearing what a fan Gloria was, the director of the third one had invited her to Vancouver, BC, to watch a day of filming where the July green grass was all covered with fake snow and the actors were sweating profusely in their wool caps, puffy jackets and boots.

  The best part had come when the female director had surprised Jolene’s mother with a role as an extra in the ice sculpting contest scene during the town’s Christmas festival. Having proven that years-old, mean-spirited gossip about what she might have been doing out in that trailer dead wrong, Gloria had already become an accepted part of the community. Being in that film had elevated her to the closest thing Honeymoon Harbor had to a movie star.

  Last holiday season, the Olympic theater filled their red velvet seats over three consecutive nights and a Saturday matinee with a showing of The Little Bakery Around the Corner, a story about a cynical food industry billionaire—think Richard Gere’s character in Pretty Woman—who comes to a small town to convince the heroine to sell her Christmas cookie recipe so he can add it to his company and make it a worldwide brand. When he finally learns the magical secret ingredient none of his many food chemists have been able to unearth, turns out to be, of course, the love put into each cookie, he discovers the true spirit of Christmas. And, as the viewers knew would happen all along, fell head over his Gucci boot heels in love with the sweet and all-American pretty baker.

  Jolene had long ago figured out that the movies swept viewers into a magical snow globe where all the stress and family drama the season can create turned perfectly pretty beneath those falling snowflakes, where families reunited, people were kinder to each other, and it was possible, for two magical hours, for even a cynic like Jolene to believe in happy endings.

  “Sorry,” she said to Shelby, “I just wanted to be sure Mom wasn’t eavesdropping.” Which she’d already admitted to doing once today. “But the doctor gave her a Xanax before the procedure—”

  “I’d want a bucketful if it were me,” Shelby responded.

  “Yeah. Me, too. Anyway, she’s a substance lightweight. So, under the influence, she informed everyone that she was taking Michael Mannion—remember, he’s that artist I introduced you to at the gallery on Rodeo Drive that night?—as her lover!”

  Shelby broke into giggles. “She did not!”

  “She did.”

  “I wish I’d been there for that. I love your mom. And you know, I don’t really blame her. Michael was too old for me, but he was hot. Like Pierce Brosnan.”

  “That’s him.”

  “Oh, talk about small worlds, maybe you and your mom can double date. Didn’t you tell me that he was your Aiden’s uncle?”

  “He’s not my Aiden... But, okay, here’s another not so funny thing. I kissed Aiden. Or he kissed me. I’m still not sure exactly how it happened. I’m blaming the pastry for the momentary lapse.”

  “Back up a minute. What pastry?”

  “He showed at the hospital with coffee, chocolate croissants and lemon-glazed madeleines for Mom and coconut ones for me.”

  “That’s your favorite kind. You always have them with the fresh peach ice cream when peaches are in season. But how did he guess that?”

  “Apparently he saw me eating them at the wedding.”

  “The one where you kept running away from him?”

  “I wasn’t so much running. Just avoiding.”
<
br />   “And apparently missing a great opportunity if he was watching you that closely and thought to buy them for you. That’s so sweet. I love him already. How was the kiss? On a scale of one to ten?”

  “It wasn’t that long. And there wasn’t really any grabbing or tearing of clothes going on.”

  “One to ten,” Shelby reminded her.

  “Twelve.”

  “Oh, wow. I wish I was a scriptwriter instead of a caterer. I can just see it now. Workaholic heroine on rebound from breakup to horrid, self-centered, cheating cad returns to the small town she grew up in, where hot high school boyfriend is now the police chief. Problems arise, kisses ensue, romance blooms, then hot hero proposes to heroine at the town Christmas tree as big, fluffy snowflakes fall around them.”

  “You know how Mom and I watch Gilmore Girls together, even when she’s up here and I’m in LA?”

  “Sure. I don’t know any daughters and moms that are as close as you two are. You’re lucky.”

  “I know. But my point is that you two should sync your Christmas movie channel watching together. Because that’s exactly what she’s doing now.”

  “What can I say?” There was a shrug and a grin in Shelby’s voice. “They’re more addictive than Ètienne’s croissants. Kind of like Xanax for holiday stress. And here you are, living one your own self.”

  “Did you forget my mother may have cancer?”

  “Or may not. But that adds needed conflict to the story. And sweetie, Aiden brought you croissants and cookies! That could so be in a movie. Street-toughened Marine-slash-cop showing his softer side to his high school sweetheart he’s never stopped loving. That’d definitely go to the top of my Christmas movie faves list.”