by K. J. Emrick
Little Moments
A Pine Lake Inn Cozy Mystery Book 9
K. J. Emrick
First published in Australia by South Coast Publishing, June 2019. Copyright
K.J. Emrick (2012-19)
* * *
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and locations portrayed in this book and the names herein are fictitious. Any similarity to or identification with the locations, names, characters or history of any person, product or entity is entirely coincidental and unintentional.
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Contents
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Epilogue
More Info
Glossary of Australian Slang
Acknowledgments
About the Author
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Chapter 1
Tasmania in summertime. I’ve lived here most of my adult life and you’d think I’d be used to it by now. The heat. The insects. The tourists… especially the tourists. I guess in a town like ours you learn to love tourists, the people you don’t know and won’t ever see again, because without their money we’d dry up and blow away like a dust storm in the Outback.
And I absolutely love it here.
I’ve owned and managed the Pine Lake Inn here for years now, along with my business partner Rosie Ryan. In that time, we’ve stayed mostly the same. Still got the fountain in the middle of Main Street that doesn’t quite work, more’s the shame in this heat. Mrs. Havernathy still sells jam from the front room of her house. Oliver Harris still runs his tow and recovery business out of a rundown building on the edge of town. Pastor Jonas Albright still lifts our immortal souls at services every Sunday. Well, those of us that go, anyways.
Then there’s changes, too. Some good, some bad, but mostly good.
Good changes are the best kind, in my experience, and no matter what we do time moves on.
We need change. There’s no life without change. Think of everything that you’ve gone through in your own life. The ups, the downs, and all the in-betweens. Now, think about what your life would be like if none of those little events had happened. Not just the good times, but all of it. Take any of those moments away, and you would be completely different. Without that girl who turned you down for your high school formal, without seeing your favorite pet pass away, without your first car accident, you wouldn’t be who you are right now. Don’t knock change. We need change.
What would you be like, without all those little moments?
Not sure who Dell Powers would be without everything that led me to today, but I’m sure I wouldn’t be me. Now very much into my mid-forties, there’s more than a little gray in my auburn hair and there’s little lines around my clear green eyes. Might be a pound or two more around my waist, but I’ve still got the shape I had in my thirties. Well. More or less.
I’m glad to be who I am today, meeting my son Kevin for lunch on a brilliant Sunday morning down at the little café that opened up last year. I’d like it if my daughter was coming with us, but Carly’s in one of her snits again. Locked in her room at the Inn, refusing to come out, or eat, or speak in sentences of more than a few syllables. When I go back to the Inn I’ve got more than a few things going on that I’m not looking forward to. Not just Carly, but Carly most of all.
Kevin and I rescued Carly from a cult last year. Well, rescue might be a bit dramatic. She didn’t want to be part of their commune anymore, and they weren’t exactly helping her to find the door. They were one of those places that expects people to go all in, where everyone smiles, everybody gives everything to the leader, and nobody had better question any of the rules. Scary, is what it was. Getting her out had been dangerous. Leaving her in would have been worse. She’s finally gotten to a point where she admits she was in over her head but getting her to see she’s better off with us has been… well, it’s been a bit of a struggle, you might say.
I love my daughter. If she found herself at the Devil’s table in Hell, I’d have found some way to bring her home.
The sun in the sky above me is white hot, steaming the sidewalk under my feet crisping everyone’s lawn to brown. Of course I’m walking, because everywhere in Lakeshore is within walking distance of everywhere else but just this once I might’ve broke down and took the car. It was February which was more often than not the hottest month of the summer, and today’s no exception. It was helping prolong the tourist season, if nothing else. My Inn was full up with people, every room booked for the Royal Hobart Regatta. Every hotel or Inn or bed and breakfast in the area was full up, in fact. Of course, every room booked didn’t mean a person in every room. My special guests have the whole top floor to themselves.
Long story.
For me and Rosie, the Pine Lake Inn is our pride and joy. It was nice to see it so full of guests enjoying it the way we did. Usually, our guests book rooms with us to see the ghosts. That’s what we’re known for. Some knocking in the walls, maybe a flash of someone’s image in the mirror who isn’t really there, that sort of thing. My ghostly friends have a whole routine going. Oh yes, there’s really ghosts there. Friendly ghosts, thank you very much. Everyone checks out of the Pine Lake Inn with a story to tell. We’ve even made the online ghost hunter forums a few times. Rather proud of that, I am.
There’s a wonderful dining room at our Inn, too, open to guests and walk-ins alike. That’s Rosie’s side of the Inn. She’s a world class chef. It’s a shame that I won’t be eating there today. Kevin asked me to meet him here, at the newest eatery in Lakeshore.
The Rum Runner’s Café fancied itself a rustic place. The interior was all plank wood paneling and rough-hewn tables polished to a high gleam, wagon wheel chandeliers and sawdust on the floors. Not really sure where they came up with the sawdust. Must’ve had it shipped in from Hobart or Geeveston, maybe. The walls had old black and white photos of the free settlers of Tasm
ania, back in the early 1800s, standing next to tents in the wilderness or grouped in front of horses or—the one I really liked—standing with an arm around a kangaroo. There were roos aplenty in Tassie back in those days, but their population is down to just ten percent of pre-European settlement numbers. Don’t think a lot of folks know that.
Not sure how they came up with the name. Maybe it’s a kind of nod to our history with the Rum Rebellion of 1808. Although that didn’t happen in Tasmania it’s still a part of Australia’s history, so who knows. Maybe I’ll ask the owners one day when I have nothing else to do. Right now, I’m here to meet my Kevin.
Actually, we’ve a pretty storied history right here in Tasmania. Good or bad, that’s us. Like I said before, every bit of your past makes you who you are. To deny any part of it would be to deny who we’ve turned into. Best to embrace your past and admit your faults.
The Rum Runner was a bit overdone, if you ask me, but I kind of like it. Judging by how packed it was—every booth full up and most of the tables to boot—I’d say the tourists liked it, too. People came to Lakeshore to enjoy themselves, to look for some antiques or spend some time hiking on trails around lakes, or to climb the Hartz Mountains to the west, or just to sit and eat in interesting little places like this.
Looking around the room from just inside the door at the hostess station, it doesn’t take me long to find Kevin sitting at a table over on the far side. He waves to me and I wave back, glad he got here before me to keep us a seat. Even the Senior Sergeant of a small back of Bourke town like ours gets to take a breather for lunch.
His uniform shirt is a bit formal for a place like this, stretched tight across those tight biceps and that broad chest of his. He’s been married four months, got a kid to boot, but he still keeps to his gym membership. Doesn’t let himself go like a lot of married men would. I know his Ellie appreciates it. She’s a good woman, and she’s got herself a good man.
“Hi, Mom!” he calls to me, in that strong Aussie voice of his that reminds me so much of his dearly departed father. There’s a lot of me to see in him, too, like those freckles across the bridge of his nose, and the auburn shade of his bristle-short hair. Carly got all her looks from her dad. Kevin’s a very manly version of his mom.
“Hey yourself,” I say back to him, leaning over the table to give him a hug. “Is that wonderful wife of yours coming to join us?”
“’Fraid not,” he says with a wry smile. “She’s being a stay at home mother today. Oh, I’ve got new photos to show ya, though. Here, have a go.”
He passes me his mobile and shows me his little guy, laughing and mugging for the camera. Little Nathan Powers is a beautiful boy. Got his mother’s face, but his father’s chin. His eyes are always bright and curious, and he smiles whenever anyone looks his way. Bright and happy and ready to take on the whole wide world.
I swipe through every picture, watching him mash his food around his mouth in this one, snuggling up to his mother in another, sleeping in his crib in another. Each one was a treasure for a grandmother. Wow, what a word that is. Dell Powers, grandmother. The changes in my life were just happening all around me.
Looking at the face of the little boy in these photos, I’m not sure I’d want it any other way.
“You’re going to send these to me, right?”
He laughs as he takes his phone back. “Just try to stop me. Your phone’ll be blowing up nonstop with my little baller. With the way he likes to kick his feet when he’s in his jumper he’ll have pro scouts hanging off his every move when he’s old enough.”
I give him a motherly look, full of lighthearted reproach. “Why is it that men always think their baby boys are going to be sports heroes? He might be into music, or even writing. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if little Nathan turned out to be the next famous Australian writer? Just like Matthew Reilly, or Mem Fox?”
Kevin doesn’t look as thrilled at that thought as I am. “Well, me and little Nathan are at least going to learn to kick a good banana, in case he’s into footy like his dad. He can decide for himself what he does from there. He can grow up to be Governor General or a garbage hauler, so long as he’s happy.” After giving the photos on his mobile one more glance through, he puts it back into its holder on his leather duty belt. He might be on his lunch break, but he was still on duty. “Did dad do that with me? Treat me like the next Gary Ablett and teach me how to handle a football?”
“Well, maybe not to that extent. He used to play with the two of you for hours down in the park, though. You and your sister were the world to him.”
“Yeah.” That’s all he says, but I can feel the weight of his thoughts. He still misses his dad. So do I.
The waitress finally comes over at that point and takes our drink orders. Melanie Abrams is her name, but I only know her well enough to say a g’day to. She leaves again to get Kevin an iced tea and me a lemonade, which gives us a few minutes to think about our meal choice. There’s a surprising variety on the three-fold laminated menu. Some of it sounds pretty good.
When this place first opened, I was a little worried it would be too much competition for the dining room at the Pine Lake Inn, especially with Cathy Morris’s milkbar serving lunch and even the Thirsty Roo Tavern serving decent bar food. Turned out there was plenty of business to go around, especially at peak tourist times like now.
Which reminds me, I don’t have all the time that I’d like for this lunch. With the dignitaries I’ve got renting out the top floor of the Inn, I’ve gotta get back soon or the staff will mutiny on me, thinking I left them with all the work while I flittered about.
“So how are things?” I ask Kevin as our sandwiches come and he tucks in with enthusiasm. “No big goings on in Lakeshore for us plain folks to be concerned over?”
“Not a one,” he says, almost triumphantly. “Can’t begin to say how pleasant it’s been not to be solving someone’s murder or… or stumbling over some deep, dark secret that’s been hiding under a rock somewhere.”
That makes me laugh. It’s funny, because it’s true. “You think there’s any secrets left to be had in a town this small?”
“Course I do.” He gives me a hard look. “And you don’t?”
“I mean, really, what else can there be left to find in this place we call home? We’ve dug out one of the biggest gemstones in the world, found murderers hiding amongst our friends, even had a few brushes with ‘Ndrangheta mobsters. There can’t be anything left unless there’s maybe a monster hiding under the lakes.”
Now he’s laughing with me. “Well, I doubt there’s a monster running round the town, sure, but there’s plenty of bad things in people’s souls, and there’s plenty of people hereabouts in Lakeshore these days. Bad times come and go, like a pendulum swinging. Sure it’s been quiet. Guarantee ya though, sure as a wallaby’s just a giant rat with an attitude, things’ll swing the other way soon enough. We’ll be up to our earlobes in murder and mayhem all over again. Mark my words.”
The waitress had come back to our table just in time to hear that last bit, and all she can do is stare.
Oh, snap. Bad timing all around.
My Kevin clears his throat and lifts his mostly full glass of iced tea. “Love a refill from ya. Thanks.”
She gladly takes the excuse to walk away again.
“I think you scared her,” I tell Kevin in a hushed tone.
“Yeah, think you’re right. Gotta remember to tone down the shop talk in public. No worries. I’ll have a chat with her and clear it up later”
I’ve known Melanie Abrams since her family moved into town, years and years ago, chasing work down in the vineyard to the north of Lakeshore. Her father was an enologist, one of those blokes who checks the acidity of the grape juice and makes sure there isn’t too much sediment in the finished wine. It’s an important job on a vineyard, and it pays pretty well from what I understand, but not my cuppa. I prefer to work with people. That’s one of the reasons I opened an Inn.
Mela
nie had gone away to Uni, last I knew, but obviously she’s back now and working here. Guess whatever opportunity she’d been chasing out in the big world hadn’t worked out for her. Unemployment was down across Australia, but that didn’t mean everyone could get the job they went after. Thankfully, Lakeshore was always here to welcome people back home.
“So,” Kevin asks me abruptly. “How’re you and James getting on?”
Now that’s a question. I take a bite of my sandwich on purpose, chewing it up to give myself time to answer. “I honestly couldn’t tell you what’s up with Mister James Callahan. If I’d spoken to him even once in the last four weeks, then I might know something more than what I do, which is nothing. But, since he basically dropped off the face of the Earth, I’d say things are broken up between us, is what I’d say.”
I can see the surprise on his face. I should have expected it, I guess. I haven’t said anything to him about James’s disappearing act because, well, I didn’t want to look like a fool. This on-again, off-again thing James and I have going on has had me feeling like a boomerang spinning round and round and always ending up back where I started. James was good for me, and he was the only man I’d dared to fall in love with since my husband’s death, but now I’m having to face the fact that he just isn’t the kind of guy for commitments. I’m all for second chances but James was on his tenth or so and this four weeks of silence with no calls and no texts and no anything at all… well, this just about tears it.
“He’s been away that long?” Kevin asks, adding a shake of his head over the whole deal. “I hadn’t realized, Mom. What a drongo he’s being. Want me to track him down and give him what for? I’ll do it. Just give me the word.”