Christmas Haven (14 page)

“That’s not true,” Lana interjected. “If you love your work, that’s what counts. Look at me, I run a tour business and sandwich shop. Hardly glamorous, but I figure if I bring joy to one person’s life on any given day, I’ve done God’s work.”

“How’s the business going?” Margaret asked.

“It’s seasonal,” Lana said. “Although this year I’ve increased December business by offering Christmas packages and decorated the boat in colorful lights for night cruises of the bay.”

“If you ever need free marketing help, I’d be happy to brainstorm.”

“Awesome, thanks.”

Julie half listened to the conversation while spying across the reception hall to catch a glimpse of Morgan. There was no sign of him. She spotted his half-eaten scone and coffee cup on the edge of a table.

Panic flooded her chest. Had the deputy chief found the stranger? What if Morgan went with Scott to check out the stranger’s motel room and the man had a gun?

“Excuse me for a second,” she said to Lana and Margaret.

She made a beeline for the front door of the church, hoping that Morgan and Scott were just outside. She flung open the door, but they were nowhere in sight.

Walking toward the parking lot, someone called out her name.

“Julie Burns?”

She turned and spotted a man in his fifties with red hair and pale skin.

“Yes?” Her gaze drifted down…to his black work boots.

She took a step back, chiding herself for leaving a church full of people to come outside where she stood alone with the stranger.

“I’ve been looking for you.”

NINE

I
nstincts on red alert, Julie took off toward the front of the church, hoping to find safety inside.

“Miss Burns!” he called after her.

She whipped open the front door to the church, and Morgan gripped her upper arms.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“That guy…who was looking for me with the boots—”

“It’s okay. He’s not an enemy.” Morgan pulled her to his chest and stroked her back. “A misunderstanding. We checked him out. He’s one of the good guys.”

She tipped her head back. “What do you mean?”

“I’m sorry for scaring her, Chief.” The man came up behind them.

“Julie, this is Joe Wilson of Horizon Farms,” Morgan said by way of an introduction.

She turned around and eyed the man, hesitated. “I don’t understand.”

“I can explain over lunch, if you’ll let me. The chief’s invited, as well.” Joe extended his hand, and she shook it.

“I don’t think I can wait until lunch,” Julie said. She wanted answers sooner rather than later.

“I don’t want to keep you from your friends inside.”

“I really need an explanation.” Julie wasn’t anxious to go back in anyway.

“Well, I’d like to take my time explaining it to you, but I
understand your curiosity. I’m managing director of Horizon Farms. Have you heard of it?”

“The facility for teenagers trying to get their lives back on track?”

“‘Facility’ sounds a bit clinical. It’s a farm where kids will build their own housing, care for the animals and grow vegetables. The visionary, Elizabeth Quinn, lost a son to drug abuse, and came up with the concept to give kids like her son an alternative path to heal. She had a theory that hardworking teenagers are productive and healthy teenagers.”

“Had?”

“She passed away six months ago. Named me her executor and manager of Horizon. It took us this long to locate property we thought suitable for the project.”

“I’m confused. What does this have to do with me?”

“I’ve done research on the area and the people of Port Whisper. Many times causes like this can create fear and anxiety in a community, yet we need support from the locals to make it work. Anyway, your name came up repeatedly as a success story, a woman who’s dedicated her life to working with teenagers. You both know the community and understand the need to help kids get on track. I could use your advice on how to ingratiate myself into the community.”

“I haven’t lived here in a very long time,” Julie said.

“Yes, but home is home. These folks respect and trust you.”

“What are you asking me to do, exactly?”

“Listen to my proposal, give me feedback on our plan. It’s a good one, modeled after a very successful program in Utah. Most of all, if you see its value, and only if you see the value, I’d appreciate your support in our venture. However, if you don’t, I would understand.”

Julie couldn’t quite wrap her head around it: the stranger-stalker was not a threat. He was a man trying to help teenagers.

Just like her.

“It’s a lot to process, I know. That’s why I was hoping to
take you to lunch. Not today, of course. I know you have family obligations.” Joe motioned toward the church.

“Would you like to join us?” Morgan asked.

“I know how people talk about strangers. I want to ease into things before they find out I’m with Horizon.”

“You’re right, people do talk. Which is why you should come in and let me introduce you around,” Morgan said. “People are most frightened of what they don’t understand. I think once they meet you, they’ll warm up quick enough.”

“I agree,” Julie added. “If they’re comfortable around you, they’ll open up, and will feel like they can share their concerns. Truthful and open communications should be your primary goal.”

“Of course.”

Morgan motioned Joe inside. “Grab some coffee. Jules and I will join you in a minute.”

The church door closed behind him, and Morgan tipped her chin up to look into his eyes. “You okay?”

“Better now, yeah.” And she was, whenever she looked into Morgan’s eyes.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to you before you saw Joe. Scott did a background check and Joe is who he says he is, a former businessman looking to transition into more fulfilling, altruistic work. He’s married with two grown children, and he’s looking for a place to stay. I think I’ve talked him into renting a room at the Port Whisper Inn.”

“Where’s his wife?”

“She’ll stay in the city until Horizon is up and running. Probably won’t be until next spring or summer. There’s a lot of work to be done, including getting permits from the city.”

“It sounds like a wonderful program. How do you think it will be received?”

“That kind of depends on us, and other leaders in Port Whisper. He’s right, Julie. People trust you, and they trust me. I’d
like to hear a little more about the program so we can form an educated opinion.”

Morgan opened the door for her. “I gotta say, it’s nice to have the distraction.”

Julie met with Joe Wilson the next day and they discussed Horizon Farms and the organization’s goal of helping kids. It was a worthy cause, for sure, but would the residents of Port Whisper embrace the idea?

Morgan was right. People tended to be afraid of things they didn’t understand, things that seemed threatening. But she also knew that with the proper support, lost teenagers could get a second chance.

“It’s an admirable endeavor,” Julie said, sitting across from Joe at the Turnstyle restaurant. Morgan sat next to her.

“I’m glad you think so,” Joe said. “The real challenge is making the community feel a sense of ownership in the program.”

“Tell me about your prospective residents.” She sipped her coffee.

“We’re trying to get to kids before they self-destruct and take to the streets. We’ll promote this program to parents of kids who are failing in school. I believe failing is an indicator that a kid has given up.”

“Will they live on the property?”

“Yes. They will build the dorms with their own hands. They’ll take shifts planning out meals for the week and maintaining the grounds. We’ll encourage them to get jobs in Port Whisper or Port Angeles, grades and time permitting. Since it’s an hour to Port Angeles and half an hour to Port Whisper, we’ll provide transportation.”

“Where will they attend school?”

“We’ll run our own program with certified teachers.”

“Have any kids signed up yet?”

“A dozen boys. Ten more have applied. We have a comprehensive interview process. They’re good kids. Just lost.”

“You should have a town meeting to introduce them. Show people that there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“Good idea.” He jotted in his notebook. “My wife and I will move into the main house next month, then if all goes well, construction will begin in May, providing the weather cooperates. We hope to launch the program this summer.”

Morgan shifted in the booth. “Sorry to interrupt, but we need to get going.”

She sat up straight. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’ve got some things to check on at work and need to drop you at home.”

“Thanks for meeting with me,” Joe said, shaking her hand.

“My pleasure. Here’s my cell number if you want to chat some more.”

Morgan escorted her to his truck and they headed for his dad’s house.

“Are you sure everything’s okay?” she asked.

“Fine, just work stuff.”

“Related to my case?”

“Sort of, but nothing serious,” he said.

“Meaning what?”

“The mayor’s breathing down my neck.”

“Why?”

“He’s critical of the way I’ve handled things.”

“In what way?”

“He’s worried that you’ve brought trouble to Port Whisper and it could put residents in danger.”

“He’s right,” she said.

He leveled her with a stern look. “I’m the police chief and it’s my job to protect the citizens, which includes you, Jules.”

“Could this jeopardize your job?”

“No, but it’s hard to take criticism from someone who knows little about law enforcement. It’ll be fine. Promise.”

They pulled into the driveway and Morgan walked her up to the house. “Stay put. I’ll be home for dinner.”

He hesitated, as if he were a husband about to kiss his wife’s cheek before saying goodbye.

She saw an opening and went for it. She had to clarify last night’s kiss. “Listen, about the kiss—”

“We don’t have to talk about it.”

“But we do. It was a thank-you kiss, Morgan. You always know how to calm me down and make me feel like everything’s going to be okay. It was an automatic response of gratitude.”

“Okay, right.” He broke eye contact and glanced into the house. “You’d better get inside. I’ll see you later.”

He turned and climbed down the stairs. She watched him pull out of the drive, still not making eye contact. Guilt tangled her insides. It was the right thing to do. She had to set the record straight so he didn’t develop inappropriate feelings for her.

Much like she had in the past few days. It was to be expected considering the dangerous situation: Julie on the run and Morgan acting as protector. Inappropriate or not, they felt genuine and intense, and somehow she’d have to put them in a box and lock them up.

The front door swung open and Mom greeted her. “I thought I heard someone on the porch. Where’s Morgan?”

Julie and her mother went into the house. “Had to go to work. He said he’d be back for dinner.”

“Good, we should be done with the first coat of paint by then.”

“Hi, Julie,” Caroline greeted, as she rolled a coat of paint on the dark wall.

“Can I help?” Julie offered.

“No, you relax. Read a good book or take a nap,” Mom said.

Julie wasn’t one for sitting around. “I’m pretty good at painting.”

“We’ve got it,” Caroline said. “There’s cookies in the kitchen.”

“Thanks, but if I keep eating like this I’ll gain ten pounds.”

Julie took off her coat, grabbed a book off a pile on the coffee table and flopped down on the sofa.

She spent the rest of the afternoon lounging and reading, something she rarely did back in Seattle. Julie offered again to help with the painting project, but realized Mom enjoyed watching Julie take it easy. She knew how work consumed Julie’s life, and probably felt as if she was being a good mother by forcing her to relax.

It was a foreign feeling for Julie, but for a few hours she lost herself in a cozy mystery about a ladies’ tea group that fancied themselves detectives. Peppered with humor and emotion key to girlfriends’ relationships, the book allowed Julie to escape into another world where the clues were set out in front of you, and everything would wrap up nicely by the end.

Between reading about the girlfriends in the book and watching Mom and Caroline dive into the painting project, it struck Julie how isolated she’d been since college. She had no close girlfriends to go to dinner with, or take in a movie.

“Good thing Angela Kotter could find alternate day care for the twins,” Caroline said. “Can you imagine the mess they’d make if they were here today?”

Mom shuddered. “I’d rather not. I have to figure out what to get them for Christmas. They really are good kids, even if they have a precocious streak.”

Caroline proceeded to tell a story about her grandson, Mack, who was quite the character, and Mom laughed and offered advice. The tone of the conversation changed when Sketch’s name came up. Worry colored Caroline’s voice.

“Hey, Caroline?” Julie closed her book.

“Yes, sweetie?”

“Sketch is a good kid. I don’t think you have to worry about him.”

“Thanks, but it comes with the job. Worry about your kids, worry about your grandkids, worry about your friends’ kids, et cetera, et cetera.”

“Has Sketch’s behavior changed in the past six months?” Julie asked.

“No, it’s been pretty consistent since he moved in with me.”

“Where are his parents?”

“Spokane. I watched the kids while they were away. When Olivia and her husband came to get them, well, Sketch didn’t want to leave. I think it was a combination of not getting along with his stepfather and Sketch’s romance with Ashley. We decided Sketch would be better off staying with me, helping with the inn, that sort of thing.”

“How did Sketch feel about that?” Julie asked.

Caroline dipped the roller in the paint. “He acted like it’s what he wanted, but I suspect he feels abandoned. I’m just glad Ashley is in his life.”

“Ah, high-school romance.” Julie sighed.

The women shared a knowing glance. Julie redirected the conversation. “I’ve got some suggestions for Sketch if you’re open to hearing them.”