Hawthorne Harbor Box Set

by Elana Johnson

  “Yeah.” Adam sounded distracted as he flipped pages. There was no way he was actually reading what was on them. “There’s a meeting with the director tomorrow,” he said. “Ten-thirty. At the community center.”

  “I’ll be there,” Trent said. “I’ve got this, Chief.”

  Adam handed the folder back, and Trent took it, stood, and left the office. He settled at his own desk and went over his plan one more time.

  Uniformed officers prevented the most problems, but the public didn’t appreciate feeling like they were being watched. So he had two pairs of officers on duty for the duration of the festival. One pair would walk the festivities at any given time. The other two would be in a back room, watching on closed-circuit monitors. An additional, plain-clothes cop would be roving during the festival as well, and all the additional cops would be to direct traffic, check bags as patrons entered, and keep the rest of Hawthorne Harbor functioning during the month-long event.

  Not only that, but the graveyard shift would drive by the community center at least twice a night, as the caller who’d asked about the security was worried about vandalism during off-hours.

  Why they were, Trent didn’t know. He’d grown up in nearby Bell Hill, and he’d never heard of the Festival of Trees having a vandalism problem. Sure, he’d left for just over a decade, but he’d been back in town for four years, and again, the festivals usually ran without a hitch.

  That’s because of plans like this, he thought, closing the folder and clicking to get his computer open. Perhaps he should do a bit more research about who he’d be meeting with tomorrow. While he’d worked the festival for the past three years, he wasn’t the point man and therefore, had simply done what Adam had assigned him to do.

  “Mitch Magleby,” he murmured, the connection firing in his mind. Of course the Magleby’s would be involved in the festival. They had their hand in almost everything in the town, as they were one of the oldest—and wealthiest—families in Hawthorne Harbor.

  His thoughts drifted to Lauren, and how she hadn’t grown up here. He wondered where she was from and what had brought her here—besides the family connection. There had to be bigger cities for someone with a job like hers. After all, Hawthorne Harbor didn’t have a booming construction business, with new homes going in anywhere. If there was a new build, it was isolated and on family land.

  He wondered what she was doing that day, and he sent off a quick text. Do you have time for lunch today?

  Crazy at the Mansion, she sent back. But tomorrow I have a meeting in town at ten-thirty. We could go after that.

  Trent stared at his phone. Ten-thirty? Are you meeting with Mitch about the Festival of Trees?

  Yeah, that’s right… How did you know?

  I’ll be there. Trent smiled but didn’t add anything to indicate so in his text. I’m in charge of all the security for the events.

  I build all their sets.

  Trent glanced around like texting was a crime and one of his fellow officers would arrest him for it. And you’re going to build my deck too? he sent. If you don’t have time to do it, we can postpone it.

  I have time, she sent. And I love the clam chowder at The Anchor.

  Trent chuckled, which definitely drew the attention of Sarah a few desks away. The woman had ears and eyes like a hawk.

  Great, see you then. Trent stuffed his phone away after that, and he managed to keep himself at his desk, clicking around on the computer and doing nothing for fifteen more minutes before he stood and said, “I’ll be with the dogs.”

  No one even acknowledged him. Since he wasn’t out patrolling, he didn’t have a partner, and the office was empty most of the time. Only during shift changes did things get lively in the police station. Or when Adam brought in food.

  Didn’t matter. Trent had gotten used to non-lively. He actually liked it. But a thread of excitement wove through him as he thought about seeing Lauren and taking her to lunch the next day.

  “Let’s hope it’s not a disaster,” he said to Wilson, who cocked his head because he didn’t understand that command.

  * * *

  Trent caught a whiff of something floral mixed with something like lumber as soon as he entered the community center.

  Lauren was here, and dang if his heartbeat didn’t jump around a bit inside his chest. So he’d had an encounter with her in the past. She didn’t seem overly upset about his apparent rejection, and he’d been bold and forthright at the Mansion last week.

  He found the right room for the meeting, along with at least a dozen people in attendance. Lauren sat in the front room, sandwiched between two other men. Trent recognized her foreman, Gene, as well as one of the best electricians in the county, Kameron Nash.

  Trent took a seat on the end of the back row, glad he’d made it before the meeting began. Tornado had been acting up this morning, and it had taken an hour to get him tired enough to wait for the attack command before he’d take off from the starting block.

  Trent was beginning to have serious doubts about the shepherd’s ability to be a police dog, but he didn’t want to give up on Tornado quite yet.

  Another group of people entered the room through a door in the front, and Trent recognized the pot-bellied form of Mitch Magleby. He was a generation older than Trent, but one younger than Mabel. He had the same keen eyes set in a face full of right angles and gray hair.

  “Welcome, everyone,” he said in a warm voice. He often played Santa Claus at town parties around the holidays, and Trent found himself smiling at the image of the man in a red suit.

  “It’s the sixtieth annual Festival of Trees, and we want to have a special celebration because of that.”

  Trent had seen the logos and special banners indicating the sixtieth anniversary of the festival on the website yesterday, but he hadn’t anticipated that the festival would be any different because of that.

  “We’ve invited people to plan special sixty-year anniversary trees, as well as anything else they want.” He nodded to the woman next to him, Alecia Summers, and she flipped open her laptop.

  She went through a whole presentation about the festival, when people could come set up, how much it cost to enter, and the other festivities like face-painting, food booths, and the holiday shop that would be available at the community center as well.

  “We’ve invited the food truck owners,” Mitch said. “Our construction crew.” He nodded to Lauren on the front row. “And a representative from the police force to be here with us today. Now that everyone knows what and when, what do we need to talk about?”

  Trent already had a plan for security, but only during the event itself. As the food truck owners talked about and organized a food truck rally for each Friday night in December, Trent realized he’d need more men in the parking lot on those nights.

  Lauren said, “Construction for the festival starts in early November. All participants must submit any construction needs with their applications. At least that’s how its been done in the past. Is that what we’re doing this year?”

  “Yes,” Mitch said. “Thank you for the reminder. Alecia.” She wrote something on her clipboard and looked up.

  “Applications are due no later than November fifteenth,” she said. “Set up begins the weekend before Thanksgiving.” She searched the crowd until she found Trent. “Can we have at least one officer here during setup hours? Last year, a couple of people got pretty heated about the location of their tree.”

  Trent flipped open the folder he’d brought with him. “I’ll add it to our plan,” he said.

  “We’d love a copy of that as soon as it’s approved by the Chief,” Mitch said. “We’d like to post it on the website this year, just so there are no bumps.” He looked like he’d move to the next topic, but Trent raised his hand.

  “Sorry, sir,” he said. “What bumps? Just so I know how to train my men.” He sounded so authoritative, and he couldn’t help but notice the way Lauren twisted to look at him, a small smile on her mou
th.

  Mitch exchanged a glance with the third person who’d come in with him, a man who hadn’t spoken yet and whose name Trent couldn’t remember. “Shawn?”

  The man rose, and Trent got the distinct impression he was a lawyer. Probably the one the city kept on retainer.

  “We had a few complaints of vagrants hanging around the center last year.” He spoke in a deep, rich voice that definitely screamed lawyer. “Moms were concerned. Some people didn’t want to submit to the bag search. We had a theft from the holiday shop. A few isolated incidents over the course of the festival.”

  Trent nodded and asked, “Can I get your contact information? In case I have more questions or we’d like you to come speak to the crew.”

  “Sure.” Shawn rattled it off and Trent scrawled it on the front page of his security report.

  Mitch moved on to vendors for the holiday shop, their application process, and then Alecia took over again with a short presentation on where the money from this year’s Festival of Trees would be donated.

  Trent’s anxiety grew by the minute, because the meeting was almost over. His stomach growled. And both of those meant that he was about to go on his first date with Lauren Michaels.

  Chapter Six

  Lauren had already told Gene and Kam that she’d be eating with “a friend,” so when the meeting broke up and Gene said, “Lunch at Itzel’s?” a blip of frustration slipped through her.

  “I’m in,” Kam said. “Lauren?”

  “I’m eating with someone else,” she said, glad Trent had remained seated in the back row, his attention on his phone. But the man was a police officer, and she didn’t believe for a minute that he didn’t hear her. “But we need to meet up and talk about electrical for the Wainscott job,” she said to Kam. “And let’s calendar another session for after the applications are due for this festival.”

  Kam always had to come do some wiring to make sure the community center didn’t burn to the ground during the festival.

  “Will do.” Kam started toward the door with Gene. “You’ve got my number.”

  Lauren watched them go, the air blowing in the community center suddenly causing a chill against her skin.

  Trent looked up and their eyes met. Lauren’s blood shot to a higher temperature, erasing the anxiety she’d just felt.

  “You ready?” he asked in that easy-going way of his. He didn’t extend his hand for her to hold, but simply stood there clutching his folder.

  “Ready.” She approached him. “What’s in the folder?”

  “My security plan. I’ll need to update it with a few things.”

  “Have you always worked the Festival of Trees?”

  “Just the past three years,” he said. “I came back to Hawthorne Harbor after the death of my wife.” His voice cut off and he ground it through his throat. “In February. So I’ve been back almost four years now, but I missed that first Festival.”

  Lauren nodded, her voice trapped somewhere in her chest too. “I’m sorry about your wife.” She looked at him, hoping the emotion in her own voice had stayed dormant.

  “Thank you,” Trent said. “I have good days and bad days.” He opened the door for her and stood back.

  “I bet.” She smiled at him as she walked outside. “What’s today?”

  “You know what? Today’s not bad.”

  He hadn’t said it was good either, and Lauren hoped their lunch would be something to brighten his day.

  “So, I know you’re not from the area,” he said. “I grew up in Bell Hill and don’t remember you. But the Magleby’s are from here.”

  “Yep.” Lauren popped the P at the end. “My mother is Mitch’s sister. So he’s my uncle. She married my dad and moved to Seattle when she was only seventeen years old.” Lauren lowered her voice and said in a fake whisper, “It was somewhat of a scandal.” She laughed, and Trent chuckled too.

  “Seems like I’ve heard that story.”

  “Oh, everyone has,” she said. “But my mom and dad are still married and still live in Seattle. I have three younger brothers who all work in the tech industry up there.”

  They strolled down the sidewalk, the autumn weather nice enough that Lauren didn’t need a jacket but didn’t feel like she’d start sweating with their leisurely pace.

  “Besides, we’re not the only Magleby’s to have left Hawthorne Harbor.”

  “I’m sure you’re not.”

  “My uncle has a brother who left when their son joined the Marines.”

  “Oh, right,” Trent said as if he knew who she was talking about.

  “His name was Hunter,” Lauren said. “He’s about my age. Still in the Marines.” She wondered if he’d ever come back to town, but his family didn’t live here anymore, so he probably wouldn’t.

  Of course, Lauren’s family didn’t live here anymore either—except for Aunt Mabel—and she’d returned.

  “You came back to Hawthorne Harbor.” Trent didn’t phrase it as a question, but she heard the curiosity behind the words.

  “That’s right,” she said, wondering if he’d read her mind about returning to the town. “I loved coming here to visit my grandparents.” She exhaled heavily and looked into the cloudy sky. “I loved the Magleby Mansion. I still do. So when I started my construction firm, I knew I wanted to work in a small town.”

  Trent looked at her out of the side of his eyes. “Wouldn’t that make things harder?”

  “Yeah, it’s not the easiest,” she said. “But I like working on smaller projects where I get to know people. I’m not interested in being a homebuilder, cranking out cookie cutter buildings and all that.”

  “So, like, my deck isn’t beneath you.”

  “Are you kidding?” She looked fully at him, and Trent Baker didn’t seem like the kidding kind. “Your deck is a dream project,” she said with a smile and absolute sincerity. “I can’t wait to do it.”

  “Better than building tree stands, I guess.” He grinned at her, and Lauren laughed.

  “Definitely.” Happiness soared through her, and she hoped Trent was having a good time. They had another couple of blocks until they reached The Anchor, which sat across the street from the town square.

  “So, what about you?” she asked. “Porter is how old?”

  “Six. He’s in first grade.”

  “Siblings?” Maybe if Lauren didn’t think about what it would be like to have a six-year-old she had to take care of, she could ignore her trepidation over the subject.

  “Just an older sister,” he said. “Eliza. She’s married and has two girls.”

  “And she lives here.”

  “In Hawthorne Harbor, yes. My parents still live in Bell Hill.”

  “I’ve done some work up there,” she said. “It’s a beautiful town.”

  “Yes, it is.” Trent kept walking, the silence between them just a touch awkward. “Guess I should’ve dropped this in my truck,” he said with a nervous chuckle.

  “You weren’t going to present it to me over soup?”

  Their eyes met and the electricity between them sent shock waves into the atmosphere. If Kam had been there, he’d be shouting about a live wire and to cut the power.

  But Lauren didn’t want to cut this connection between them. “I asked you out in March,” she said. “I had no idea who you were, or that your wife had just died, or that you had a son.” Why she was telling him any of this, she didn’t know. But she couldn’t stop herself now. “It was no big deal. I felt like an idiot when I found out. But I’m glad we’re going out now.”

  There, she’d said it.

  “Me too,” he said simply. But he said so much more when he shifted the folder to his other hand and reached for hers. Her whole body sighed as she aligned her fingers between his, and it felt like even the clouds approved of this first date, as they moved aside and let the sun shine down on Lauren and Trent.

  “So clam chowder, huh?” he asked.

  “It’s my favorite,” she said. “Do you like seaf
ood?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “But you grew up on the coast.” She looked at him, genuinely wanting to know what made him tick.

  “Is that a rule?” he asked playfully. “You grow up near the ocean and you have to like seafood?”

  Lauren laughed and shook her head. “You win. I grew up in the technology capital of the US, and I barely know how to use my phone.”

  Trent chuckled and tightened his grip on her fingers. “Um, I don’t want to alarm you, but that’s my sister.”

  Lauren’s gaze flew down the sidewalk to where a group of four women stood. They had formed a huddle, their chatter reaching Lauren’s ears from a hundred yards away.

  “And this?” She lifted their still-joined hands. “Is this a problem?”

  Trent tugged her a little closer. “Not for me. Eliza knows I’ve been dating.” But there was something aloof in his tone, something he was hiding.

  Sure enough, when he said, “Hey, Eliza,” and his sister turned toward them, pure surprise flowed over her fair features as she took in Lauren and the way Trent had a hold of her hand.

  “Trent, what are you doing out?”

  He rolled his eyes. “I get out, you know.”

  “Only with the dogs.” Eliza glanced at Lauren. “I’m Eliza, Trent’s sister.”

  “Yes,” Lauren said, smiling. “He was just telling me about you.” The weight of the other three women’s eyes on Lauren felt suffocating, but she managed to keep breathing.

  “It’s our first date,” Trent said. “I’ll call you later, okay, Lize?”

  “Oh, of course. Yes. Later.”

  Trent kept walking, calm and cool and without a hitch in his step. Lauren felt like someone had cut her off at the knees and sewn on new feet.

  “How are you so nonplussed?” she asked him.

  “I told you all of my dates have been a disaster.” He looked down at her and smiled. “That was a minor speed bump. We’re still holding hands and still on our way to eat.”