Snowflake Bay (13 page)

“Thanks, Beanie. That means a lot coming from you.”

“I know my customers will be dropping by to see what's what. And all the seasonal traffic will likely come your way over the summer months, thinking the quilt shop is still here. Hopefully they'll give you a try as well. You never know.” She leaned in, as if to keep anyone else from overhearing. “And some of their pockets are quite deep.” She patted Fi's arm a final time, then stepped back. “Best of both worlds.”

“Indeed,” Fiona said. “I'm hopeful it will all work out.”

“Will you be selling décor items here?” she asked, once again looking around the empty rooms. “Or just have displays meant to showcase your design style so folks know what they can expect if they hire you?” She looked back at Fiona expectantly.

“I might have a few pieces, and Eula is going to let me put some of her pieces here on consignment as part of my display. She'll talk up the studio, too.” She smiled. “Some cross promotion, though she hardly needs it. But mostly the décor here will be a way to show what kind of vision I have for designing. It will be constantly changing as I see and am inspired by new things,” she said. “I might hold a semi-annual sale or something to clear out pieces I'm no longer using. I've been to a number of sales that other designers hold and I love the idea. It's a great way to get new clients, too.” She started to edge her way closer to the door. Beanie might not miss running a business, but Fiona was beginning to suspect she missed having folks to talk to on a regular basis.

“You should think about doing some kind of little newsletter or something. Talk up design ideas, like those darling teapots, or the boots on the fence.”

Fiona wanted to point out that if she told folks how to do such things, they wouldn't need to hire her to do them, but decided nodding and smiling was the better way to go. She sighed quietly when Beanie moved farther into the space.

“You could even give little workshops.” She turned around. “Wouldn't that be fun? I did that, you know. Quilt classes and little quilting bees—like a girls' afternoon out kind of thing. It formed quite a community for the quilters.”

Fiona didn't know how to explain that while both were creative endeavors, designing wasn't the same as crafting. “I am still sorting through all of that,” she said. “But thank you for the tips.”

Beanie waved a hand, and did another lap around the front rooms, though what she was really seeing in her mind's eye as she poked here and there, Fiona had no idea.

“My pleasure,” Beanie said. “I know you ran a successful big-city business so you likely don't need any helpful hints from someone so small town as me, but you'll find things are done differently here, so just offering you a bit of advice from someone who's done things the small-town way for almost as many years as you've been alive.”

Fiona was at the front door now. “I appreciate it, Beanie, I really do. Now I have to scoot. Thanks for locking up for me.”

Her exit was interrupted by a booming noise outside that was so loud she could feel a little tremor in the cypress plank flooring under her feet.

“What in the world?” Beanie exclaimed as Fiona opened the door and looked in the direction the noise had come from. The Campbell Christmas Tree Farm lot.

“Oh no,” Fiona cried, immediately running outside. She flew down the porch steps and took off toward the side gate, which, as it turned out, was blocked by plowed snow on the opposite side, so she almost flipped over it when it didn't budge. “Are you kidding me,” she growled when she got her wind back.

Over in the Campbell tree lot, someone had backed the long flatbed of the farm's huge truck, which had been full of baled trees, to the back edge of the empty lot and had attempted to raise the bed so the trees would roll out to the ground. Only, instead, the bed had only lifted enough for the trees to all roll to the still-gated end, where they'd gotten wedged and piled up, causing the back end of the truck bed to tip down to the ground and the entire front end to lift up into the air. She had no clue what she thought she could do to help, but she climbed the rest of the way, ever-so-not-gracefully, over the fence, swore as her ankle-booted feet sank knee deep in the snow piled on the other side, and finally slogged her way free so she could get closer to the situation.

“Ben!” she shouted, craning her neck, trying to see whether he was in the driver's seat of the truck, but it was suspended so high above her head that she couldn't tell, and couldn't back up enough to get a better view due to the pile of snow. Snow that hadn't been piled in her customer car lot an hour ago. She'd yell at him about that later. “Ben?” she called out again. “I'm calling the fire department,” she shouted. “We'll get you out of there.”

“No need,” came the recognizable voice behind her.

She swung around, and clapped her hand to her chest. “Oh, thank God, you're not in the—” She didn't finish the thought, but swung back around. “Who's up in there?”

“My ex-employee, Andrew.”

She swung her gaze back to him. “Why is some guy you fired in one of your company trucks? Was he trying to steal your trees or something?”

“I haven't fired anybody, but if we get him out of that cab in one piece, his ass will be out of a job.” He already had his phone to his ear when she'd turned around, and now he started speaking into it. “Yeah, it's Ben Campbell. I need a ladder truck at my tree lot. No, it's not on Harbor Street this year—it's two blocks up from Monaghan's, on Hill. Yeah, I got an idiot kid who thought he'd make his job easier by dumping the trees out of the truck.” He paused, then said, “Yep, that's exactly what happened. I'm afraid if those trees shake loose, the cab is going to come down hard. I don't think he got hurt going up, but I sure as hell wouldn't want to be in that baby when it comes down. Can you bring a ladder truck and pluck his skinny, fired ass out of that thing?” He paused. “Yep, I'm here. Thanks.” He clicked off and pocketed the phone.

“What happens after you get him out?” Fiona asked. “I mean, after you fire his skinny ass. How do you get the trees out and the truck down without something breaking?”

“Well, I guess that's for me to figure out now. If you'll excuse me.”

“Ben, wait!”

He paused and turned, which was when she realized she had no idea what she'd wanted to say to him.

“You plowed your snow into my parking lot.” She motioned to the snow piled up against the lot side of the fence. “It's true I'm not using it yet, but you didn't even ask.”

He glanced past her, then shook his head. “Sorry. I told him to plow the other side—we got a permit from the town to use that field for parking. Unfortunately, I can only fire the guy once.”

“Same guy?” she asked, glancing back up at the precariously balanced truck.

He nodded.

She smiled ruefully. “Yeah, I think you've got bigger problems than I do.”

“College kids. Most of them are great. Hard workers. Occasionally though? You get that guy. I'll get it taken care of.”

He turned to go a second time, and apparently not satisfied with having a decent, unawkward conversation with him, she blurted out, “About earlier.” She immediately groaned inwardly.
Just let him go, for God's sake.
He had a guy stuck in a truck, and she was still fixating on that stupid kiss. The one that had felt anything but stupid. The same one she'd shut down any future hope of experiencing again. “Never mind,” she said hastily. “Go on. Do what needs to be done.”

The echo of sirens filled the air.

“Right,” he said, giving her a quick, considering look before he turned back toward the truck. He hadn't gone but a few steps when he looked back over his shoulder, surprising her with a grin that reminded her of his mischievous, adolescent self. Back when they'd both been kids, that grin would have made her privately swoon but physically brace herself for whatever he was about to say.

Now, all she could think about was the way he'd looked at her in Eula's, and the way he'd kissed her right here in this parking lot, and suddenly the idea of Ben Campbell being mischievous took on a whole new meaning.

“At the risk of pissing you off all over again”—he gestured with his gloved hand toward her head—“you've got some sort of vegetation sticking out of your hair. Quite festive, really.” He winked, then turned back, pulling his phone out again as the ladder truck rolled in, followed by the EMT.

Fiona groped around her hair and face with her now-soggy mittens, probably smearing what little makeup she wore, and pulled a sprig of holly and berries that had probably gotten stuck in her hair and hat when she'd half fallen, half climbed over the gate. “Yep, you should have stuck with your femme fatale moment in Eula's and called it a day,” she muttered. She tossed the sprig back toward the fence, only to look down and notice that, on her climb over the fence, she'd also managed to soak two big spots on the front of her coat.

She supposed she should be grateful he'd only commented on the foliage. At the moment, Fireplug Fi was probably the kindest of the nicknames he could assign to her. “Other girls make pretty snow angels. Me? Boob prints.” She sighed. “How attractive.”

“Since you're too busy juggling two businesses to head down to your folks' place for the big meal, why don't you come on out to the house for Thanksgiving?” Logan asked, right before elbowing Ben hard in the gut and driving in for the winning layup.

Ben snagged the ball as it dropped through the net, and tossed it, seemingly casually, back to Logan, only with enough force behind it to put a dent in his best friend's solar plexus. He walked over to the bleachers that lined the walls in their old high school gym and snagged his towel from his gear bag. “I appreciate the invite, but we've got opening day the following morning, and I've got three stands to monitor in addition to dealing with stuff down in Portsmouth.”

Logan parked the basketball behind the front bleacher seat and fished out his towel. “Would some of that stuff have to do with Annalise Manderville?”

Ben would like to think his glance at his old friend was casual, but he suspected it looked about as casual as the ball toss he'd just beaned Logan with. “Why would you think that? I told you we were long done.”

“Yes. I recall. I also heard she was out your way.”

Ben finished mopping his face and lowered the towel. “How on earth would you know that?”

“One of your guys is going out with Owen Hartley's daughter.”

Momentarily distracted from wondering if Logan had also heard about the kiss he'd laid on his sister right there in his tree lot, he asked, “Little Lauren Hartley?”

“Little Lauren is a college grad now, and back here running their hardware store. You heard Owen—”

“Is mayor now, yeah. So it was her college pal who was responsible for the lot screw-up? I didn't put that together. I guess I just hadn't stopped to think how many years it's been since I've seen her. Wow. Little Lauren, all grown up. I stopped by last week to talk with Owen about getting some lumber to build the lean-tos for the tree lots and he filled me in on a few things. He was too busy to give me the full scoop, though. I thought she was taking after your sisters, all big plans for the big city.”

“Owen thought so, too,” Logan said, “but she wanted to take her business degree and put it to use in the family empire, such as it is.”

Ben glanced at Logan, but there didn't seem to be any unspoken intent behind the comment. “I think if that's what she wants, it's great. I hope she doesn't find out it's not as exciting as she'd thought and cut out on Owen just when he comes to depend on her.”

Logan shook his head. “I don't think so. She's pretty level-headed and sure-minded. Bright, sharp as a tack. I think she'll do just fine.”

Ben chuckled. “I bet the old-timers aren't all that thrilled with a woman running their one and only hardware store, even if she is the owner's daughter.”

Logan shrugged. “Lauren can be pretty charming. Like I said, bright and sharp. She's figured things out.”

Ben's grin turned knowing. “Yeah, old Stokey Parker and Arnaud Pliff probably don't mind a pretty young girl selling them their boards and nails. Who knows, maybe she'll be the one to single-handedly drag this place into the twenty-first century of equality.”

Logan laughed. “I said she was sharp, not a miracle worker.”

Ben palmed the basketball. “Best two out of three?”

“Can't. I have a meeting with Calder and Jonah Blue.”

Ben's eyes widened. “Uh, that sounds like not fun.”

“About as not fun as getting a root canal, yeah. But if we're going to do the ceremony here in the Cove, I need to know ahead of time that things are under control. As the Blue patriarch in the Cove, Jonah is the only one with the power to keep things calm.”

“Can Calder say the same for his branch?”

Logan lifted a shoulder. “Not sure. But it was their idea to have it here. If he can't, then he has to assure me he can deal with whoever on his side can. Otherwise, I don't think it's a wise idea, no matter how well intentioned.”

Ben shoved his towel and the ball into his gym bag and pulled on his hoodie. “I'm glad it worked out for us to catch up a bit. I'm only disappointed I didn't beat your sorry ass in both games. You know, like old times.”

“You mean like the time you tried to hit that three-pointer at the buzzer because you thought Hannah would finally be wowed by your macho athletic prowess, only, in your effort to dazzle, you got confused and lobbed the ball at the opposing team's basket?” He tossed his sweaty towel at Ben's face, chuckling. “Oh yeah, I recall all right.”

Ben scraped the towel off, then palmed it and snapped the end at Logan's crotch, only missing his target because Logan shifted quickly enough. “Hey, I made that three-pointer,” he reminded him. “And we went on to beat them in the state championships, so no real harm done.”

“But you didn't get the girl, and really, what else matters?”

Ben just shook his head, but they were both grinning. “So, you approve of the guy she's marrying? This Calder Blue? He'll stand up?”

Logan nodded. “I do, and yes, I believe he will. She's happy and they seem pretty good for each other. No red flags.”

Ben nodded. “Good. I'm happy for her. I really am. You, too.”

Logan clapped him on the shoulder as they picked up their gear so they could head out. “Thanks. I appreciate that. I know it sounds all kinds of hokey, but I'll be honest and say I didn't know it could be like this. And this is pretty damn good.” He looked at Ben. “Any chance you'll wade in at some point? The water's not half as scary as it looks. In fact, it's pretty sweet.”

“I'm not afraid of the water,” he said. “Just nothing to wade in after at the moment.” He started toward the gymnasium double doors. “When you see him, tell old Hank I appreciate his letting us in,” he said, referring to the old janitor who had passed Logan a key after he'd asked if they could use the empty gym over the holiday break. Being police chief had its perks. “I can't believe he's still taking care of this place.”

“I know. I'm pretty sure he's convinced that if he dies, this place will go straight to hell, and I'm not sure he's wrong about that.” He hit the light switches, and they pushed out into the bright sun and brisk afternoon air that swept over and swirled around the side parking lot.

“If we can scrape the time together, I wouldn't mind a rematch,” Ben said, as they walked toward their trucks.

“We'll make time. It's good having you back.”

Ben palmed his keys and looked across the hood of his truck. “Yeah, it is.”

“You sound surprised,” Logan said. “Did you think it would be all that bad?”

“Honestly? I didn't know what to think. I hadn't ever thought to be back here, not like this anyway. Certainly not this soon.” Logan and he both knew the business would have gone to him at some point, but no one would have guessed that it would be now.

“Figured anything out yet? About what you'll do with the place?”

He shook his head. “Too much going on. I'll do the juggling act through the holidays, then figure it out when things slow down a bit on both fronts.”

“What about that spread in
AE
on the stands? Don't you have things you need to do to take advantage of that?”

“Nothing I can't handle from here.” He grinned. “Everyone keeps asking me that, but it's not like the paparazzi are suddenly hounding my employees. I mean, it's a big get in my industry and all, and I hope it will prompt some folks to pick up the phone and give us a call to help them with whatever projects they have in mind, but it's not like anything specific is actually happening. There's no red-carpet deal going on anywhere. It's just a magazine.”

“And if the phone starts ringing?”

“Once we get things set up and open here, I'll be able to split my time a little, at least when I have to. I can't think there will be too much beyond consultations now, with it being winter.”

“The downside to getting the year-end issue, I guess.” Logan shook his head. “I don't envy you the juggling act. I don't know how you'll pull it all off, but if anyone can, it's you.”

“I was thinking the same thing about the Hatfield-and-McCoy wedding. Let me know how that meeting with Calder and Jonah goes.”

“Yeah,” Logan said, hunching his shoulders against the wind. “Will do.”

Ben opened his truck door and tossed his gym bag across the bench seat. Before he could climb in, Logan called over to him.

“Hey, you never said why Annalise came all the way up to Snowflake Bay.”

“Seems I'm suddenly someone her parents want on their guest list.”

Logan's eyes widened. “And does she want you on their guest list?”

“Can't tell,” he lied, not wanting to get into it. Not wanting to think about it at all, actually. Annalise was hunting, but for what, exactly, he didn't know. Maybe now that she was with someone else, he was the one she wanted to play with on the side. She was going to be sorely disappointed if that were the case. “Doesn't matter,” he said, quite sincerely. “Not interested.”

Logan chuckled. “Maybe it's just as well you can hide out here in the Cove for a bit.”

“Yeah, I'd have thought that, too, but obviously when the Mandervilles want something, there is no place to hide.”

“True. Well, good luck with that.”

“Thanks,” Ben said dryly. He started to climb in again, only to be stopped a second time by Logan saying his name. He just looked across the hood expectantly.

“When I told you to make amends with Fiona? I didn't mean for you to lay one on her right there in front of her new place of business.”

Ben froze, as did his tongue. He figured since Logan had called to set up the basketball game and seemed pretty much his usual self about it, Fiona had kept their little interlude to herself. Maybe telling her big brother was her way of getting back at him for his rather heavy-handed approach to letting her know he was interested. So he had no idea what to say to that.

But Logan waited him out, and Ben's toes were already going numb inside his basketball shoes. He looked across the hood again. “You knew about that this whole time and didn't say anything?”

“I was waiting to see if you would.”

Ben sighed. “There's nothing to say. I mean, other than we talked, and we're okay. I—I can't make up for the past.”

“By making out with her now? Yeah, no, that doesn't seem like the smartest plan.”

Ben's gaze narrowed, but Logan didn't seem mad, or even truly upset. He was concerned, as any older brother would be, Ben supposed, but was also giving his buddy the benefit of the doubt. Ben wanted to think he was worthy of that benefit, but given how things had gone down in that parking lot, he couldn't swear to it at the moment. “I didn't plan on it. I was just going to talk to her, apologize, and hope things wouldn't be awkward. She stomped out to read me the riot act—you, too, by the way—she wasn't happy with either one of us thinking we knew better than she did how to fix this thing.”

Logan didn't say anything to that, but there might have been some amusement there along with the concern in his eyes.

“I only meant to apologize, but, well, we ran into each other at Eula's earlier, and she—” He lifted his shoulders, not sure this was something a guy told another guy about his own sister. Even if the other guy was his lifelong best friend. “I noticed her, okay? It was before that whole mess at the Puffin. I—I don't know that I'd have done anything about it, but then she was there and reading me the riot act and all I could think about was—” Logan's eyes narrowed at that and Ben opted out of the rest of the play-by-play. “It doesn't matter what I wanted. We kissed. It was mutual,” he added quickly. “And she told me that she wasn't interested in doing it again. Maybe she was the one evening the score, I don't know. But it's nothing. Or it isn't for her at any rate. It won't be leading to anything.”

He thought about the look of confusion still in Fiona's eyes when she'd blurted out, “About earlier.” She had still been thinking about that kiss. And dammit, so was he. But she'd been right. They had no business, for so many reasons, following it up with anything more.

“You sure about that?” Logan asked.

Ben lifted a shoulder. “As sure as I can be. It was her call.”

“And if it was your call?”

Ben held his friend's gaze, trying to decide how honestly to answer that. He took a short, steadying breath, and spoke the truth. “I don't know,” he said. “It was a hell of a kiss.”

“What about Annalise?” Logan asked.

Surprised, Ben said, “What about her? I already told you. I'm not interested in whatever she or her folks are cooking up. She has nothing to do with me and Fiona.”

“So there is a you and Fiona? Or you want there to be a you and Fiona?”

“What I want is for us to not be having this conversation about your sister.”

“You hurt her once,” Logan said, then immediately raised his hands to ward off Ben's defense. “I know, we've been over all that. But it's still a thing that happened. We were kids then. We're not now. I don't want it happening again. So unless you're both sure of what you're doing, just . . .” He broke off, swore under his breath. “Don't do anything else you'll have to apologize to her for, okay? That's all I have to say about it.”

“You sure?” Ben asked, uncertain how he would have handled it if the situation were reversed, but he was an only child. Logan's family was the closest he had to siblings, only, quite obviously, they weren't his sisters. Far from it.