Summer's Moon

by Lacey Baker

  “When my father took his life, people came to the house saying that same thing to my mother. ‘He did it for you and Drew. He wanted to spare you both the expense and the pain of treatment when he was just going to die anyway.’” Drew shook her head, her hair brushing against Parker’s chin. “He wasn’t going to die anyway, at least not in six months like that doctor had predicted. But my father didn’t know that. He didn’t wait to find out. He just decided this was best for us and he did it.”

  She was quiet for a second.

  “I don’t know if Will Tinley did this for his family or if it was best for his family. All I know is that those daughters will grow up knowing he left them, that he chose to leave them. His wife will bear the brunt of not having insurance premiums paid because of the suicide and struggling financially, publicly, and emotionally in an attempt to reconcile with his decision. He probably felt like he was making a selfless sacrifice, but it may not turn out that way for them.”

  “I didn’t want him to die,” Parker admitted. “Even after I realized he’d been the one to bomb your place, shooting at us, running me off the road, I still didn’t want him dead.”

  “He didn’t want you dead either.”

  Parker heard her words, replayed them with Will’s own confession that he couldn’t kill Parker. He should be happy for that fact, he should take solace in knowing that Will wasn’t 100 percent corrupt, because if he had been, there was no doubt Parker, Drew, and their unborn child would be dead.

  That thought had him hugging her closer and kissing the top of her head. She’d wrapped her arms around his waist, lifted a leg to slip between his. He loved the warmth of having her close, the comfort in knowing that she was safe right there in his arms. He simply loved her and—

  Parker felt something against his side. He froze, and the thumping sensation was there again.

  “She kicked?” It was sort of a question and a declaration, his voice sounding incredulous even to his own ears.

  Drew rose slightly, pulling one of his hands to lay it over her stomach.

  Parker smiled. “She kicked again.” He sighed.

  “I think she knows your voice. Before you came home we were both sleeping. Then we were in your arms and we were both wide awake,” Drew told him.

  He couldn’t stop smiling, couldn’t move his hand from her stomach, from the movement of his child.

  “I love you so much,” he told her. “So much that I’ll never decide to leave you and our family.”

  Drew kissed his chest. “Thank you, Parker. I love you, too.”

  * * *

  “So Miranda sent these over this morning. I couldn’t wait to close up the shop to bring them over here for you to see.”

  Delia sat cross-legged on the bed next to Drew as she pulled pictures out of a purse that could easily double for carry-on luggage. It was navy-blue leather, soft and expensive and so absolutely Delia’s style. Miranda Winslow was a friend of Delia’s from L.A. and a couture designer. Delia, who was currently living out her second life as a boutique owner, leaving her acting life behind, had talked Heaven into letting her design her bridesmaid dresses if she could get Miranda to agree to design the wedding dress.

  Of course, Savannah had squawked about having a novice design her dress versus Heaven having the couture design.

  “I’ve worn Vera Wang originals,” Savannah had claimed.

  “And now you’ll be the first to wear a Design by Delia,” Delia had told her with a smile and a pat on the top of her head as if she were a child or a kitten.

  This had caused Savannah to scowl and the other women to laugh.

  “Oh, goodness, Delia. They’re gorgeous!” Heaven squealed as she flipped from one picture to the next. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

  “Thanks. I’m pretty pumped to see them actually on a real person,” Delia said, handing Drew the pictures after Heaven had seen them.

  Drew sighed inwardly at the pictures of beautiful peach-colored gowns. Savannah, Raine, and Michelle would be bridesmaids in Heaven’s wedding, while Heaven wore a lovely eggshell-colored gown of pure lace.

  As for Nikki and Quinn’s wedding, which was coming up first in December, Nikki was wearing an updated rendition of her mother’s wedding gown, while Cordy, Savannah, and Michelle would be dressed in gowns the color of evergreen Christmas trees.

  Thus the mood at the inn was very festive, even a week after a man had killed himself in Easton. Drew, on the other hand, hadn’t been feeling very festive. Because of the explosion, she’d been disqualified from the window decoration contest. She was sick and tired of being hurt over her mother’s decision to stay out of her life and depressed because the business she’d built from nothing was now gone and pissed off because she couldn’t get out of this damned bed. So she’d decided to be angry about the window contest instead; it seemed to make sense at the time.

  Now, with all these smiles and wedding dresses and talk of receptions and menus and everything else wedding oriented, she was slowly slipping into a pissed-off mood for another reason.

  “And, I’ve even got something for you, Ms. Sidney.”

  Delia nudged her and dug into her purse once more. Drew tried to look interested even though she really wasn’t. Whatever Delia had in that suitcase-sized purse of hers, Drew wasn’t interested. What she’d much rather be doing on this lovely fall Saturday afternoon was playing in the yard with Rufus. For days now, she’d had to settle for watching him play ball in the yard with Parker or with Raine, who spent an unusual amount of time outside with the puppies, in Drew’s estimation.

  “Look, isn’t it lovely?” Delia asked, putting a sheet of paper directly in Drew’s line of vision.

  Reluctantly, Drew took the paper. She looked at it, then at Delia, then back at the paper once more. “What is it?” she asked.

  Heaven laughed and leaned over the bed to snatch the paper from Drew. “It’s a dress, silly. And it’s lovely. You’ll look wonderful at Cupid’s Cabaret wearing this.”

  Cupid’s Cabaret was Sweetland’s version of a Valentine’s Day dance for grown-ups. It was a big affair that gave the townspeople another reason to get together and eat, dress up and eat—and, of course, fellowship. Last year Drew was supposed to go with her mother and Uncle Walt, but Lorrayna had begged off. So Drew ended up sitting at a corner table nursing a glass of bad red wine, while Delia danced around in the skimpiest red outfit she could find. That was another thing: Everyone wore red to the cabaret. Fun, huh?

  “Did you forget that I’ll be just about ready to deliver in February?” Drew asked, falling back on her pillows. She stared up at the ceiling, wondering how much it would take to bribe Michelle to let her at least have breakfast at the kitchen table tomorrow. She’d probably have to come up with a sum for Mr. Sylvester, too, as he made a point to have his morning cup of coffee in the room with her, chatting about what things he had planned for the day. They usually amounted to him sitting on the porch, walking around back to sit on the bench, then ending the afternoon sitting in the living room reading the paper. Drew thought he was probably happy just to have someone else in this house to sit with.

  “The cabaret is on the seventh this year because the town hall is undergoing renovations beginning the tenth and won’t be finished by the fourteenth,” Heaven reported. “Mayor Fitzgerald wants all the renovations on that building and city hall complete before next year’s Bay Day festivities.”

  “Man, she’s really getting into all this public relations crap around here,” Delia said, referring to Heaven. “I thought you were only supposed to focus on your research and making connections for the inn.”

  Heaven waved a hand at Delia. “What I’m doing is networking. I go to the mayor’s meetings, the ones that aren’t private. I talk to the town council and the president of our Chamber of Commerce. This way they all know my name and that I’m affiliated with the inn. And when one of their colleagues or social groups need a place to stay in Sweetland, who do you think they’re going to c
all? Their connection to the inn—which happens to be me!”

  Drew couldn’t help smiling at Heaven’s overly chipper rendition of her job duties here at The Silver Spoon. “It didn’t take her long to become as whacky as all the other residents of Sweetland,” Drew quipped.

  “Now, back to this dress,” Heaven said, eyeing Drew and the paper once more. “It’ll look lovely on you. And it’s designed to have room since you’ll be in your final weeks of pregnancy.”

  “I’m not going to that event dressed up like a red candy apple,” Drew protested.

  “You’ll look lovely and radiant,” Heaven added.

  Delia snatched the paper from Heaven. “Plus I designed this specifically for you. Miranda’s going to have it cut and ready for us to see in a couple of weeks. The only thing that’s going to keep you from wearing this dress is if you’re in a hospital gown instead,” she warned.

  “Did you forget I’m on house arrest? Michelle’s not letting me out of her sight, and I surely won’t be able to hide in that bright red dress!” Drew continued, even though the idea of getting out of the house sounded wonderful to her.

  “You’ll be close to delivering then, so it won’t matter if you go into labor at the cabaret,” Heaven said.

  Delia laughed at that. “Wouldn’t that be something if she did go into labor at the cabaret. Then they could name the baby Cupid.”

  “Not funny,” Drew told them. But eventually she started to laugh herself, as the two of them were having such a good time at her expense.

  * * *

  On Sunday evening, the Redling brothers showed up at The Silver Spoon. With them was Diana McCann and a woman by the name of Evelyn Woodby, who Savannah reported was engaged to Phillip Redling, the older brother. Steven Redling was the goofy one in the expensive suit who was so brainwashed by Diana that he’d seemed to completely forgive her romp with the now free-on-bail Jared Mansfield.

  Earlier there’d been an impromptu town council meeting, as four of the council members had gathered after the children’s pageant at the church to talk about the amount of traffic and the comings and goings of some of the guests at The Marina. As it was in Sweetland, word traveled quickly, and when those very same four council members ended up at The Silver Spoon for an early dinner, the remaining three members of the council inevitably showed up. Then someone must have also tipped off the Redlings that they were the subject of conversation, so here they were, walking through the door, overdressed and marginally unwelcome.

  “Good to see you again, Steven, Phillip,” Preston greeted the brothers at the doorway.

  “Preston, right?” Steven asked with a smirk. “I can never tell those twins apart.”

  “You’re right, darling. Preston’s the tall, thin one. Parker’s the bulky superhero one. He’s probably laid up in hiding with his pregnant flower girl.”

  Of course this was Diana—and of course Savannah was standing right beside Preston, ready and waiting for Diana to pounce.

  “Actually, Diana, Parker is helping out at the restaurant tonight. His fiancée is resting,” Savannah said in a sugary-sweet tone.

  Diana’s bright pink-tinted lips thinned as she glared at Savannah. Apparently the silly woman was still holding a torch for Parker, and the man on her arm didn’t have the good sense to take that as a hint.

  Phillip spoke up next. “We hear you’re having a meeting about us and figured it made sense for us to at least be here to defend ourselves.”

  Preston shook his head. “This is a restaurant, Phillip. You know that. And as far as I know, there are no official meetings on hand for tonight.”

  To that, both Redling brothers looked at each other, then back to Preston, who was more than willing to throw the four of them out without another word. He’d had enough with the snarky remarks from the citizens of Sweetland. This week they’d run the gamut from reminding him of his transplant fiancée who brought kidnappers and the FBI to town to his brothers inciting fires and explosions and knocking up innocent girls. He was ready to tell them all to go to hell, and if he was feeling that way, he could only imagine how Parker was feeling.

  “In that case we’ll take a table for four,” Phillip countered. “And lucky us—I see one right over there near some of the prestigious town council members.”

  This could potentially end badly, Preston knew. But the Redlings were asking for it.

  “Savannah, show the Redlings to their table,” Preston told his sister, then immediately excused himself from the group.

  On the way out of the restaurant, he ran right into the person he’d wanted to see.

  “Before you go back in there, let me give you a recap,” he began, blocking Parker’s view and entrance into the restaurant. “Town council’s up in arms about the increase in traffic to and from The Marina. A huge complaint is that The Marina has so many amenities on their property that the town won’t see as much predicted revenue.”

  “That sounds like good news for us, so why do you look like it’s the exact opposite?” Parker asked.

  His brother had most likely just come from checking on Drew for the billionth time tonight. If ever there was a man in love with his pregnant girlfriend, Parker would be it. Now, he probably wouldn’t be happy to know that Savannah had just indicated to Diana and the Redlings that Parker was actually going to marry Drew, but that was another argument for another time.

  “The Redlings somehow got wind of the discussion and they just showed up requesting a table near the town council members. The Redlings also have Diana and some transplant with them that Savannah says is Phillip’s fiancée. Marabelle and Louisa are also in there having their Sunday dinner as usual. Put all that together and I’m guessing we’re about to have one exciting evening,” Preston said with a frown.

  Chapter 23

  Parker folded his arms across his chest, his brow furrowing as he thought about Preston’s words. Considering all the players his brother had just announced, they definitely had the makings of a major storm brewing in the restaurant.

  “Where’s Michelle?” he asked Preston.

  “She’s in the kitchen. Quinn and Nikki are at the Brockingtons’ having dinner and going over the guest list for the wedding. Raine and Savannah are in the dining room, and Mr. Sylvester’s on the front porch. That accounts for just about everybody,” Preston quipped.

  Parker only nodded at his brother’s sarcasm. “Let’s get them served and out of here as quickly as possible,” he said. “That’s all we can really do.”

  Preston agreed and the two of them entered the restaurant prepared for whatever went down. Or at least they thought they were prepared.

  The argument was in full swing by the time Parker and Preston made their way to the tables where the Redlings and the town council members sat.

  “You said our shops would make money, but you have a spa, a coffee shop, a diner complete with an ice-cream parlor, and a hairdresser right behind your big golden gates!” protested Jeannie Nelson, whose father had been town council president for ten years before he’d died of a heart attack last year.

  Jeannie was about four feet eleven in heels, with a head full of fiery red hair and a personality to match. She was as feisty as two pit bulls, and right now she had the Redlings firmly in her grasp.

  “We have a full-scale resort, precisely what we pitched to the town council last year. The plans were approved and we built our facility. The fact that you have complaints now is a little too late,” Steven countered, his hands flat on the table as he leaned forward toward Jeannie, who had come to stand in front of them.

  “That deal was made by Inez Hoover, the cheating criminal that’s now in jail!” Jeannie added.

  Phillip shook his head. “Not our problem.”

  “If you ask me,” Louisa interrupted from her table across the room, “they shouldn’t have allowed any of these big-city folk into our town. None of them know how to be productive citizens. All they do is bring ruckus and mayhem to us good people.”

>   Parker’s gaze immediately went to Louisa, knowing the woman had more than one meaning behind her words. The fact that she gave him a curt nod at his glance confirmed that for him.

  “It’s a free country, you old bat,” Diana chimed in. “Leave it to you and your blood sister there we would never have any semblance of progress in this town. None of you people want progress. You want to stay in this small-town rut you’ve created forever.”

  “Funny you say that, Diana. You were born in this small-town rut, then ran off to marry some guy you said was rich enough to take you away from this pitiful place. And yet you’re right back here living off one of our founders and causing trouble just like you always did. You’re sniffing out money just like a street pup,” Jeannie told her.

  Diana stood, dropping her napkin onto the table. “Now, you wait just a minute. You’re divorced, too! And you’re loud and obnoxious, just like your daddy was, God rest his pitiful drunkard soul!”

  With that, Jeannie’s lithe body was in motion. She cleared that table and had her hands wrapped around Diana’s neck in about five seconds, much faster than either Parker or Preston could have moved. Glass fell to the floor and the chaos officially began.

  Steven grabbed Diana around the waist, while Phillip tried unsuccessfully to pull Jeannie off her. Evelyn Woodby stood screaming after a glass of red wine had been spilled on her off-white sundress. The remaining town council members, including Hoover King, charged the Redling brothers like a cavalry. Louisa and Marabelle stood up, wrapping their leftover food in napkins and hurriedly sticking it into their purses while shaking their heads in dismay.

  That’s when Parker felt a hand on his shoulder.

  “Looks like you’ve got yourself a situation here,” Sheriff Farraway said.

  “Yeah, you got some extra cuffs with you?” he asked, keeping his eyes on the commotion going on.

  Kyle nodded. “Sure do, and Jonah’s coming in right behind me, so we’ve got two cruisers to take them in with.”