Page 41 of Meet Me at the Christmas Cottage (Jonathon Island #6)
Chapter One
Returning to Jonathon Island hadn’t worked out as well as Eliza Quinn had hoped.
She’d come home two months ago from Pittsburgh to help with her mom’s recovery from thyroid surgery, but saying goodbye to her family home was harder than expected, especially the stables where she’d spent much of her childhood.
Midafternoon sunshine warmed her chilled face as she dropped another box on the end of the dray wagon to be taken to her parents’ new cottage on Rose Road.
Taking a breath, Eliza stepped inside the whitewashed building with a forest green metal roof and inhaled the scents of hay, warm animals, and leather to imprint them into her memory.
Her breath puffed out in front of her as she drew her jacket tighter around her middle.
Even though spring had officially arrived yesterday, a mid-March storm had swept across Lake Huron last night and blanketed the northern Michigan island in a light snow.
Pegasus, one of the hard-working, dapple-gray Percherons that lived on island year-round, raised his head and looked at her with his dark eyes as he munched hay from his feeder.
She strode inside, reached over the aged wooden stall door, and rested a gloved hand on his muscled neck. “Hey, Gus. How’s it going?”
He lifted his head and nuzzled her hand.
“Sorry, I didn’t bring a treat with me.”
“That’s not like you. You always try to sneak treats to Gus and Ginger.”
Eliza turned as Dad crossed behind her and dropped a hay bale on the cold concrete floor. She glanced at Ginger, the other Percheron, whose stall was next to Gus’s.
“They work hard and deserve treats.”
Dad laughed, the carved lines around his blue eyes deepening as he broke the bale apart and dropped a hay biscuit in each stall.
Tall and lean with more silver than dark brown in his short hair and weathered skin from years working outside, her father exuded a quiet strength she always found comforting. Dust and dirt clung to his faded jeans and knee-high boots he wore while mucking out the stalls.
She moved to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, the top of her head coming to his shoulder.
Her cheek brushing against his soft flannel shirt, she breathed in the scents of his hard work.
“I’m taking a break from helping Mom pack and heading into town to pick up take-out from Kelley’s Bar & Grill. Need anything while I’m out?”
Dad’s arms tightened around her as he rested his chin on top of her head. “Want me to hitch up the team and drive you?”
“Nah, I can use the walk after packing boxes.”
“You planning to head up to the cottage with us after dinner?”
Eliza pulled herself from her father’s warm embrace and lifted a shoulder. “We’ll see.”
“The move’s an adjustment for all of us, but your mom and I don’t need such a big house and all of this property, but we still want to keep it in the family.
Selling it to Asher and Sadie is the right decision.
For all of us.” He waved a hand toward the four-bedroom house with a stone exterior and wraparound porch nestled in a grove of leafless sugar maples and pines.
“I’m sure you’ll come to love the cottage too. ”
Blinking back tears, Eliza forced a smile.
“Asher and Sadie will do great here. It’s just hard to say goodbye to the only true home I’ve known most of my life.
Mom’s all healed now, so once you’re moved into the cottage, I’ll figure out what’s next now that I’m no longer working as Aunt Sally’s assistant.
Her generous severance won’t last forever. ”
“I hope you’ll consider staying on island.” Dad caught her chin and lifted it with the calloused knuckle of his index finger. “Your mom and I are winding down, considering retirement.”
Eliza batted her father’s chest. “You’re not even sixty. I don’t think you’ll ever retire.” She waved a hand toward the stable. “The horses, the stable and livery in town, and now the carriage tour business that Asher and you revived…well, it’s in your blood.”
“Sunshine, it could’ve been yours too, but you turned us down.”
Eliza glanced down at the toe of her Dr. Martens leather ankle boot. “It’s not the same without Jared. We talked about running the 3Q Ranch together, but…”
“But then he was killed.”
“Yeah.”
Even though she lost her brother over five years ago in a freak accident, there were days when the grief still felt raw.
She’d left the island and spent five years in Pittsburgh with her aunt while her parents clung to each other.
Eliza pressed a kiss to Dad’s whiskered cheek. “Well, I’d better head into town and pick up the pizza and wings from Kelley’s. Then I’m meeting Sadie at the cottage to get the living room repainted tonight like I promised.”
“Thanks, El.” Dad’s words followed her as she walked out of the stable.
She fished her sunglasses out of her oversized purse and slid them on her nose as she headed down the gravel drive and cut onto Sugar Maple Lane.
She turned toward Henrietta Hudson’s white storybook cottage and caught a glimpse of the thawing lake through the bare branches. Sea gulls soared over the treetops and circled over the water, their caws echoing in the quietness of the island in its offseason.
The whistling wind picked up and sent a chill down the collar of her white puffer jacket.
Her footsteps crunched in the snow as she hurried down Blueberry Boulevard and passed the post office, a small white clapboard building with trimmed hedges crowned with snow.
She waved to Herb Easton, the local postmaster.
Ice slid off the roof of the brick and wood-sided police station that sat in front of the island’s small firehouse.
Dr. Nova Lake exited the neighboring medical complex and waved to Eliza. Wearing a long gray wool coat and a light pink hat over her dark hair, she held a medical bag in a gloved hand and hurried across the back lot to the Blueberry Hill residential neighborhood down the slope from the businesses.
Feeling her toes turning numb, Eliza picked up her pace and hurried past Dahlia Drive, Lilac Lane, Zinnia Boulevard, and Poppy Place on her right.
Her steps slowed as she reached the cute white clapboard cottage with blue trim and covered front porch on the corner of Rose Road and Blueberry Boulevard.
Her parents’ new home. A cottage for two. Not three.
Dad loved that it wasn’t far from the livery and stables next to the Island House Inn. Mom loved the large lilac in the backyard trimmed with a hedge border, the weathered picket fence, and the promise of wildflower gardens when summer returned.
Blowing out a breath, she headed for Main Street where sunshine glazed the snow-covered cobblestone streets running in front of the Victorian-style businesses.
Thanks to Dani Sullivan’s island revitalization project last year, the buildings had been repainted in pastel colors with new striped awnings. Soon, the empty flower boxes would be filled with a kaleidoscope of color.
A cyclist buzzed past as her phone vibrated in her back pocket. She dug it out, bit off her mitten, and thumbed open a text from her aunt.
Aunt Sally
Just learned Candace is retiring. Call me.
Several crying emojis followed her aunt’s words.
Eliza tapped on her aunt’s number and held the phone to her ear.
“El, hey. You got my text.” Her aunt’s voice sounded in her ear along with the sound of papers rustling.
“Hey, Aunt Sally. Sorry to hear about Candace.”
“After thirty years together, I have to find a new agent in the next two months since Candace will be done in June.” Her aunt’s subdued tone stopped Eliza in the middle of the sidewalk. “Would you do some research and see who could be a good fit? I need someone who will put up with me, you know.”
“Yes, you are a handful.” Even though Eliza laughed, there was some truth to her words. “You do remember I don’t work for you anymore, right?”
“Sorry. Old habits.” Her aunt’s deep sigh caused Eliza to jerk the phone away from her ear. “Kimberly’s doing well, but she’s not you.”
“Auntie, she’s your daughter—she’ll pick up being your assistant in no time. You’re the one who didn’t want me working remotely, remember?”
“I know. I know. But you were the best assistant I had.” Her aunt’s voice resonated in her ear. “I’ve become spoiled and need someone closer to me.”
“Someone to be at your beck and call.”
“Exactly. You know me—I like things a certain way. Find a job yet?”
“Still looking and figuring out what’s next. Being an author assistant to the multi-published, bestselling Sally Jo Wilson will look good on my résumé.” Eliza’s eyes watered, but she blamed it on the wind blowing across the lake and biting her cheeks.
Her aunt laughed. “I will give you the highest recommendation.”
Eliza perched on the edge of a snowy bench lining the sidewalk in front of Blueberry Hill Park and inhaled the scents of yeast and sugar drifting down Main Street from Good Day Coffee—the best coffee shop on the island—along with grilled burgers from Kelley’s Bar & Grill.
Her stomach protested the lack of food as an idea took root. She tightened her fingers around the phone. “What if I became your agent?”
“Girl, what are you talking about? You’re not an agent.”
“No, but I could be. Since Candace lives on island, I could shadow her and learn how to become one.” Eliza shifted on the bench and glanced toward the upscale Driftwood Hills neighborhood along the southwestern shores.
Candace Bishop of Bishop Literary Management ran her agency from the comforts of her on-island home.
“I have connections with publishers and industry professionals after working for you and attending conferences for the past six years.”
“Oh, honey, but is that what you truly want?” Eliza pictured her aunt pacing in front of her standing desk—something she did often when trying to talk someone out of something.
Problem was, Eliza didn’t know what she did want.