by Julie Archer
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Epilogue - three weeks later
Love Sparkles in Fortune’s Bay
A Fortune’s Bay Novella
Julie Archer
Love Sparkles in Fortune’s Bay © Copyright 2018 Julie Archer
Cover art by Qamber Designs & Media
Editing by Indie Editing Chick
All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher/author. This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental. Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000. Created with Vellum
Created with Vellum
For Nan
“If you want it, get it.”
Love Sparkles in Fortune’s Bay
Travel to Fortune’s Bay from the comfort of your home and drink in the white sand beaches and crystal-clear waters. The sun always shines in this fictional small tourist town in the South-West of Florida and soulmates always find each other.
Contents
For Nan
Love Sparkles in Fortune’s Bay
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Epilogue - three weeks later
More Fortune’s Bay stories!
Acknowledgments
Also by Julie Archer
About the Author
Chapter 1
When Piper Jarrett answered the Craigslist advertisement for a house sitter, she hadn’t expected to be standing in front of one of the most impressive homes on Fortune’s Bay’s most prestigious street. After triple-checking the address she had been sent, she realized that Bayview House on Waterfront Avenue was indeed where she was supposed to be. The gates that kept Bayview House safe from passers-by were made of what looked like solid oak and trimmed with metal. Whoever owned the house was intent on keeping people out. She pressed the intercom as bubbles of nervousness fizzed about in her stomach.
“Hello?” a female voice barked.
“Um, hi. This is Piper Jarrett. I have an appointment to see Therese?”
The voice softened. “Sure, come on in.”
The gates whirred and opened, presenting Piper with a long and winding gravel drive that led up to an impressive modern house. It was a good thing she had arrived a little early as the walk up to the front door would probably take her about five minutes. A tiny brunette, no more than about five-three, stood in the doorway, waiting to welcome her.
“Hi Piper, I’m Therese Simon, nice to meet you.” The brunette stuck out a hand and Piper shook it, noting the strength in the woman’s grasp. Clearly, she wasn’t someone to be messed with.
“And you, thank you for inviting me.”
“Come on in and we can have a chat.”
Piper took the opportunity to check out her surroundings. The entrance hall had high ceilings and enormous glass windows that let the light flood in. Therese gestured for Piper to follow her, and they walked upstairs into the huge, open-plan kitchen/living/dining area. The kitchen was probably about the size of her brother Josh’s apartment, maybe bigger. There was an expensively kitted-out preparation area, with smooth, sleek surfaces, lots of metal appliances and a central island, which had built-in refrigerators underneath, containing all manner of wines, champagnes, and beers. There was a huge dining table, which was situated close to the floor-to-ceiling windows, and had a spectacular view, looking out directly across the Bay. Piper gasped as she took it in: the water glittered in the sunshine and she could just see The Rosedale Hotel. Therese pointed out the living area, with squashy sofas, a low coffee table, and an equally spectacular view over the other side of the Bay. As Piper admired the vista, her nerves dissipated, and a sense of calm settled over her.
Therese sat at the head of the table and pointed to the chair next to her. There were papers strewn across the surface, which Piper guessed were other applications for the job. Her competition. Her heart sank. She had to get this job. Since she’d been back in Fortune’s Bay, she had touted her résumé everywhere she could think of: the bakeries, the shops, the hospital, the library. Just about every one of the people she had approached knocked her back. If she wasn’t successful, she didn’t know what she was going to do. Then, finally, she had spotted the advert for this. The response to her application had been almost instantaneous, asking her for an interview that same day. Now she was here, she had to make sure she was the best candidate for the job.
“So, Piper, do you live in Fortune’s Bay?”
Piper nodded. “I lived in the Bay up until going to college, but I’ve been in Tampa for a while. I worked on a free publication there; unfortunately, we recently got let go because the company folded. They couldn’t afford to keep two lots of staff on, one to run the web-based side of things and one to run the print publication. I was a print girl and they didn’t have any vacancies in the other department.” What she didn’t mention was that the job mostly consisted of getting other people coffee and tidying the fashion cupboard. The promises of them looking at her jewelry designs had never materialized. The loss of her job had been the catalyst for the impromptu return to the Bay. She’d been forced to live with her brother for the past couple of weeks until she was able to find somewhere of her own, which meant getting a job first.
“Good.” Therese paused. “I mean good that you know the place, not good you lost your job. I know how that goes and when you need to start again it can be difficult.” She turned her attention back to the questions in front of her. “What was it about the ad that attracted you?”
It was Piper’s turn to pause as she debated how honest to be. If there were hundreds of other applicants, then she probably didn’t stand a chance anyway. “My brother’s place is full of boys and it’s about the size of this kitchen. There’s barely room to swing a cat, let alone have four, sometimes five, fully grown adults functioning there. I knew I needed to find somewhere else to live and this seemed to combine both a job and a place to stay, which made it fit the bill.”
Therese jotted down a couple of notes. “A brother…are your parents still in town too?”
“No, they’re doing some kind of senior gap year. Sold up the family home and went travelling.”
Therese laughed. “G
ood for them. I’m pleased to see they still have a sense of adventure.”
Secretly, Piper thought they were rather hypocritical. When she’d told them she’d been let go from Who’s Got Style, they told her she should have stayed in Fortune’s Bay in the first place and settled down to a proper job. They had sold the family home, cashing in on the fact that the property market in the Bay was at its most lucrative, and were currently travelling around the States with a view to heading to Europe someday. With limited funds and no job in Tampa, it made little sense for Piper to stay in a shared apartment, when she could theoretically save some cash by coming home. If there had been a family home to come back to, it would have been the perfect plan.
Piper answered more of Therese’s questions, covering her education and other jobs she’d held. She was itching to know more about the house and the role, but wasn’t sure how to broach it. Finally, Therese got to the point in their discussion where it was time to reveal all.
“The owner is away a lot,” she said. “Which would mean you’re likely to be here on your own. How would you feel about that?”
“Oh,” replied Piper. “I thought the house was yours?”
Therese gave a hearty laugh. “I can only dream of owning a house like this.”
“Oh.” Piper realized she was repeating herself. She desperately wanted to know who did own the house. She didn’t feel confident enough to ask and instead went back to Therese’s question about being on her own. “I guess there’s good security here?” Not that there was a lot of crime in Fortune’s Bay, particularly in this part of town, but if she was going to be alone in such a big place, she needed to know there was backup if she needed it.
“Yes, there’s good security here. You’d have someone you could call if there were any issues.”
Piper nodded, her mind put at rest. “And I’d be okay with being on my own. Actually, it would be a good time for me to think about what I really want to do with my life. I’d really like to make a success of my jewelry-design business.” Piper didn’t know why she felt the need to share that with Therese. The more she thought about it though—it could be a great opportunity to get some time for herself and get those plans on track.
“Sounds good.” There was another long pause and Piper suspected she had blown her chances. “When do you think you could start?”
Piper’s mouth fell open. “Wait, what? Don’t you have other people to see?” She gestured to the other documents on the table.
“Those? Honey, that’s the touring schedule and press interviews he’s got lined up, nothing to do with this. I’m just his PA, looking after all of his business, both work and personal.”
Piper only picked up on the words ‘touring schedule’ and ‘press interviews’, her curiosity mounting even further. “You said this house wasn’t yours. Who does own it?”
Therese ignored her question. “Do you think you could start tomorrow morning? I have to get back to North Carolina before the gig in the evening and I can show you everything before I leave.”
“I guess.” Piper couldn’t believe how swiftly everything was happening. Did that make her crazy for agreeing to it so quickly, as well? Or was Therese the crazy one for offering her the job so quickly? She still didn’t know who the house belonged to. “This is all quite fast,” she said. “How can you possibly offer me a job based on this chat?”
Therese stared at her as if she were a child. “Oh, honey, don’t think I haven’t been checking you out ever since you applied. I have to move fast to make sure everything happens as smoothly as possible. You were the perfect person for the job on paper. Your social media was checked out; I knew you weren’t a crazy stalker fan. I did know you were desperate for a job though.”
Piper let Therese’s words sink in. A crazy stalker fan of who? she wondered. She didn’t know how she felt about her life being scrutinized so easily. Then again, she wasn’t anyone, just a girl looking for a break. “I see.”
“Do you still want to go ahead? I know what I just said about checking up on you probably freaked you out and I’ll understand if you want to leave.”
“No, I mean, yes. I’m happy to take the job.” Piper paused. “Because you know I need it.” She gave Therese a small smile.
The woman beamed in response. “Excellent. Can you read through all this and sign it before you come back? You’ll be here for at least the next two months, maybe longer. There’s a confidentiality clause, non-disclosure agreements, that sort of thing. It’s imperative that you don’t reveal the details of your employment here. Oh, and I guess you’ll want to know what we’ll be paying you.” As Therese thrust a wedge of paperwork at her, she named a sum that blew Piper’s mind. It was almost the equivalent of her yearly wage at Who’s Got Style, which Therese said would be paid to her monthly. Plus, there was a bonus if she stayed until the end of the contract. Her mind swam with all the possibilities that amount of money could do for her future.
“Thank you.” It was the only thing Piper could think to say, although inside she wanted to jump up and down with happiness. She had a job. She wouldn’t have to live with Josh and the boys long-term and she would have money. She couldn’t wait to tell her brother the great news.
“You wanted to know who owns the house?” Therese said as if it were an afterthought, and now that Piper had agreed, it didn’t really matter. “It belongs to Mal Colten.”
Chapter 2
Damn!”
Mal Colten tried to contain his anger as one of the strings on his beloved Gibson Hummingbird acoustic snapped as he began his warm up. There would be barely any time before the gig started to change it. He wouldn’t be able to swap to one of his other guitars because of the content of the set list which was too late to change. Part of him wanted to throw the damn instrument across the room and cancel the gig.
But that wasn’t what Mal Colten did.
He went on stage whatever, whenever, however.
He was sick of it.
“Everything okay?” Boyd Ross, Mal’s manager, waltzed into the backstage area.
“Broke a string.”
“Can’t you get one of the guitar techs to sort it out?”
“If you think I’m letting some knucklehead tech touch this baby, you’re crazier than I thought.” Mal shook his head. Even after all these years, Boyd didn’t understand how he felt about other people putting their grubby hands on his collection of guitars. Each of them had a history, a story to tell, memories—some of them better than others.
Boyd held his hands up. “Sorry, I forgot how precious you were about these things.” He paused. “Thought you should know that Therese has found you a house sitter. She put out a post on Craigslist, interviewed, and the woman’s going to start tomorrow.”
Mal frowned. His regular housekeeper, Alena, had to go and look after her sick mother in Oregon for a while. A woman in her mid-fifties, Alena was no temptation to Mal and looked after him as if he was one of her own children. She oversaw the running of his house when he was on tour and catered for him when he was there. Alena kept him grounded, reminding him regularly that he wasn’t a superstar everywhere. He wasn’t sure he liked the idea of someone he didn’t know being in the house. He’d been comfortable with Alena, and the thought of a stranger there made him feel troubled. “Who is she?”
“Someone called Piper. A local, apparently, who knows the area and was immediately available. Therese said there were a lot of crazies who responded to the ad and this one seemed the best.”
The best of the crazy? thought Mal. Sounds like a song title. “Right, so that’s all sorted then.” He knew he sounded less than grateful.
As he re-strung the Gibson, his view from his kitchen in Bayview House briefly flitted through his mind and a pang of homesickness hit him in the chest. The calmness of the ocean, the other islands, the sea birds, the relative quiet—God, he missed Fortune’s Bay. There were still a good number of dates left on his current tour and he was beginning to tire of it. A concert
hall, a radio studio, a record store, a bus, a hotel room. And repeat.
He needed a break. Life on the road was beginning to get mundane, the days merging into each other and repetitive. He wished he was the type of artist who did a few massive stadium gigs in a short space of time, or rather the one who chose to play smaller venues on longer tours, thus giving more people the opportunity to see him. But he wasn’t.
“Twenty minutes to show time!” The stage manager called into the room.
For the first time in a long time, Mal didn’t feel ready. He didn’t want to go on stage. He didn’t want to sing in front of a fifteen-hundred-capacity crowd in a small venue in Carolina. He wanted to go home and sleep in his own bed.
It showed. He stood in front of the mic and stared out, unseeing, at the audience.
“This is, um, Believe In Your Destiny,” he stumbled over the title of one of his lesser-known tracks. It was one of his first releases and he ought to know it inside out. Suddenly his mind was a total blank, panic gripping him. He started playing the chords and the support band joined in. The words wouldn’t come; he couldn’t think of a single lyric. The crowd, almost as if sensing his unease, started to sing for him, thinking it was part of the act. Relief flooded through him as the lines came back to him and he joined in. He didn’t notice the quizzical looks between the rest of the band members as he limped through the rest of the set with less enthusiasm than he usually would. At the end of the show, where there would usually be wild cheers and whistles, there was subdued clapping. The crowd cleared out quickly, not even wanting an encore.