Harbor pitched in a good chunk from our discretionary fund, we get to host the two-day competition while Pacific Grove and Monterey will pick up the other events. You know, now that I think about it—” Gil angled a look at her that told Abby his thought wasn’t new at all “—it would be nice to have someone from Butterfly Harbor representing us to really get the community involved. I wonder if Matilda has any suggestions.”
Why did he insist on asking questions he already knew the answers to?
“Last I heard she and Ursula were somewhere around Ohio.” That motor home of theirs had more miles on it than the space shuttle, but the sisters’ charity trek had become an annual event, one Abby wasn’t about to get in the way of, not when both Matilda and Ursula were breast cancer survivors.
“What about you?” Gil asked.
“What about me?”
“You should enter, Abby. There’s no one more amateur than you. Think about it. They’re only allowing three competitors, so your chances of winning might be better than we think.”
Was he serious? “Sarcasm aside, I doubt that’s a good idea.” Even if she had the inclination, by the time word got around town of her scone BBQ this morning, they’d probably start a petition to ban her from even owning a kitchen.
Still... She bit her lip. Fifty thousand dollars.
“Including one of our oldest businesses would look great in the advertising. Besides, you have the personality for it,” Gil said. “Then there’s the added advertising the inn wouldn’t have to pay for. All you’d need to do is come up with the entry fee. Don’t say no. Not until you check it out, but FYI, the deadline to enter is tomorrow.” He rapped his knuckles on her table and headed out.
Temptation and opportunity knocked. That money could be the answer to her problems. Assuming she won, of course. And Gil was right about one thing: no one was more amateur than her. Oh, this was crazy, wasn’t it? Even crazy for Abby, who wasn’t known for always making the most reasoned decisions. The smoke detector was evidence of that.
She was getting ahead of herself. She couldn’t make any decision until she got a look at the books. It could be she was worried over something a good couple of months could fix, in which case she had time to come up with a gangbusters promotion plan.
No reason to put all her expectations on a competition she didn’t have any hope of winning. Not until she knew what she was dealing with. But...she supposed it could be an option. A nuclear option, but still an option.
“Your order will be ready in about ten.” Holly returned after filling her customers’ coffee cups and clearing some tables. “What was that about?” She aimed a suspicious glance at Gil’s retreating back.
“Possibilities.” Abby shoved the brochure into her purse and smiled. “Do me a favor—add a small strawberry shake to that order? Lori deserves to remember life is all about enjoyment and taking chances.”
Now all Abby had to do was remember the same thing.
ABBY MADE IT until five that afternoon before she uncorked that bottle of wine. The nuclear option was looking better by the second.
For the first time in memory, keeping a good thought had failed her. Not only had Mr. Vartebetium’s fiscal warnings been shy of the mark, but they’d be lucky to keep the doors of the Flutterby Inn open through the summer.
Her employees and friends’ jobs aside, she couldn’t, wouldn’t let Gran lose her home. Abby would go down swinging if she had to in order to make sure Alice lived out the rest of her life feeling safe and secure.
Meanwhile, Abby would start a list of words she didn’t ever want to see in print again, beginning with back taxes and ending with pipe replacement. Even worse, the money she’d been assured had been set aside for a booth at one of the food festival’s events didn’t exist. There wasn’t seventy dollars to spare, let alone seven hundred. She still had employees and bills to pay.
Not even the normally comforting waves of the Pacific worked their magic this evening. Nor did sitting on the bench in one of the more picturesque areas of Butterfly Harbor, on the hill outside the Flutterby. The cypress trees arched their branches in framed perfection while the frothy foam bubbled up and draped over the rocks below in the lazy tide. Every time Abby tried to find the bright spot, any bright spot, she floundered like a beached dolphin who had taken a wrong and very unfortunate turn.
What she did have, aside from a half-filled glass of wine and a too-thin sweater to keep the coastal chill off her skin, was a circling dread.
“I’ve learned one thing about your Butterfly Harbor today.” Jay Corwin’s voice scraped over her raw nerves as he approached from behind, his footfalls crunching in the gravel and sand. “You have a beautiful secret here.”
Abby couldn’t help it. She smiled, then hid the expression behind her wineglass as she sipped. “It won’t be secret much longer. The new butterfly sanctuary they’re hoping to build should put us on the map. So to speak,” she added. Albeit probably too late for the Flutterby to benefit.
“Do you mind if I join you?”
She looked at him, trying to find a diplomatic way to say no, but she couldn’t, especially not when she recognized the same tinge of tension and sadness she’d seen in her own reflection recently. Abby scooted over on the bench. “I’m sorry. I didn’t bring another glass.”
“It’s fine, I’m not a big pinot fan.” Jay glanced at the brass plaque on the back of the bench before he sat—a little closer than she’d expected, a lot farther than she wanted—and shoved his hands into the lightweight navy parka he wore. “Bob Manning. Your father?”
“Grandfather.” Abby took in Jay’s acclimated attire of jeans and flannel shirt. He struck her as a man who fit in wherever he went, especially with that assessing gaze of his. She’d never seen a color like his, with shimmering silver depths beneath the ocean blue. She didn’t need to note his strong jaw to be reminded of his stubbornness or the permanent crease in his brow to make her wonder if he ever smiled. She hadn’t really noticed before—probably hadn’t been paying attention. He seemed incredibly sad. Now she wished she hadn’t been quite so snippy with him.
“Grandpa Bob died five years ago,” she said. “Right here, as a matter of fact. Came out to watch the sunset one night and went peacefully. Broke Gran’s heart, but I can’t think of a better way for him to go. The sunsets here are worth waiting for.”
“It seems a nice place to grow up. What about your parents?” Perhaps if this friendlier, inquisitive Jay had appeared in her kitchen this morning, she might not have spent part of the day dreaming of putting itching powder in his bed.
“They died in a car accident when I was four.” She pulled out a pair of gold rings and a diamond solitaire on a thin gold chain and held them between her fingers. “I’ve seen pictures of them, but I can’t be sure if I remember them. Gran gave me these when I turned thirteen.” She kissed the rings and tucked them away again. “Makes me feel as if I have a couple of guardian angels. Friendly ghosts, you know? It’s why I never take it off.” And wow, wasn’t she chatty with someone she wasn’t sure she liked. “Butterfly Harbor’s been my home ever since.”
He
