Read Letters and Lace (The Ronan's Harbor Series) Online

Authors: M. Kate Quinn

Tags: #Contemporary

Letters and Lace (The Ronan's Harbor Series)

BOOK: Letters and Lace (The Ronan's Harbor Series)
10.38Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads
Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Praise for M. Kate Quinn

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

A word about the author...

Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

Letters and Lace

by

M. Kate Quinn

The Ronan’s Harbor Series

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Letters and Lace

COPYRIGHT © 2013 by M. Kate Quinn

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Contact Information: [email protected]

Cover Art by
Kim Mendoza

The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

PO Box 708

Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

Publishing History

First
Last Rose of Summer
Edition, 2013

Print ISBN 978-1-61217-862-2

Digital ISBN 978-1-61217-863-9

The Ronan’s Harbor Series

Published in the United States of America

Praise for M. Kate Quinn


LETTERS AND LACE
is an excellent romance with excitement, tension, and most of all undying love. From the very beginning I was glued!”

~C.Braswell, Preliminary Reader

~*~

“A mother’s love, an uncle’s fortunes, a tangled web of deception all lead to love in M. Kate Quinn’s
BROOKSIDE DAISY
. A delicious cast of characters! Scrumptious!”

~Shirley Hailstock, award winning author, past president Romance Writers of America

~*~


MOONLIGHT AND VIOLET
has strong character development, an appealing storyline, and amusing dialogue. A rare treat”!

~Long and Short Reviews, Top 500 Reviews

~*~

SUMMER IRIS
: “…a remarkable talent for creating realistic characters. M. Kate Quinn is definitely an author to keep your eye on!”

~Detra Fitch, Huntress Reviews

Dedication

To my girlfriends,

my tried and true soulmates and anchors in any storm.

I love you all.

To my six kids,

Joe, Rob, Melanie, Steven, Michael and Keith.

The Brady’s have nothing on my bunch.

And to the dearest man who shares my life,

who is my life,

my husband, Harvey.

My cup runneth over...

Chapter One

The air inside the cavernous space was stale, the exact opposite of Sarah Grayson’s vision for it.

She surveyed the sunroom of her Jersey shore bed-and-breakfast where scattered square tables supported upturned chairs with brown wooden legs pointing to the ceiling like barren saplings. It was a far cry from the sumptuous scene it would become on June first—a spectacular setting for Hannah, her only child, on her wedding day.

In the quiet of preseason solitude, Sarah was enwrapped in the anticipation of the task ahead. The determination fueling her soul was heady.

Reaching into her pants pocket, she crossed to the back wall. She withdrew the old, tarnished storage room key, inserted it into the lock, and turned the glass knob. With the door open, she was momentarily startled by the assaulting smell of must. She squinted into the dank space that for years had been her bone of contention.

Finally she’d saved enough money to do the conversion. With carpenters due to start work this week, her mind reeled with ideas for the sunroom’s added expanse. She eyed the cracked flagstone floor—quaint although too damaged to salvage—and pictured the mess lifting it would create. But, no matter, the result would be worth the distress.

She closed the door behind her, stepping back into the sunroom. The bank of windows along the front wall offered a testament to the gray, drizzly April morning, though she was not dismayed by the cloudy scene. She relished the awaiting transformation to both inside and out of her Cornelia Inn.

There’d be no guests for weeks, giving her time to ready the inn for the season. But the wedding preparations would steal her time. The new sunroom would need window treatments, there was wall art to find. Eagerness tingled over her skin.

The sound of the doorbell jarred her reverie. She went through to the small, square entry hall and opened the front door.

“Norman, hello,” she greeted. She was surprised to see the town letter carrier at her door rather than offering his usual quick wave from the sidewalk as he stuffed mailboxes along the roadway.

“Morning, Sarah,” he said shyly. His nose was a distinct pink from the chilly early April air. “I, uh, brought you your mail. This one here requires your signature.”

She accepted the bundle of envelopes into her hand, sensing trepidation in her long-time acquaintance. “Thank you,” she said. “Kind of cold today, huh? Do you have time for a cup of tea, Norman?”

He extended a ballpoint pen to her with a quick jerk of his hand “‘Fraid not today, Sarah,” he said, his tone contrite.

She signed the receipt. Norman knew something. That was one thing about life in Ronan’s Harbor. Everybody got wind of everyone else’s news, especially those that hand-delivered it to your doorstep.

After a momentary hesitation, Norman nodded goodbye and turned to leave. His heel caught on the upturned edge of the welcome mat and he stumbled, doing a fancy tap-dance kind of trot to stay upright. His brown leather mail satchel swayed away from his body, slapping back against his side and adding to his precariousness.

Sarah grabbed his arm to assist, but he was heavy and rather than stop his wobbling, she inadvertently joined his footwork, trotting in step—a drunken Ginger Rogers led by a freaky Fred Astaire. She couldn’t help but laugh.

Finally, thanks to his grab of the weathered wicker chair near the house’s entrance, the dance was over.

“I’m okay,” he said swiftly. Now his entire face was as pink as his nose.

“Are you sure?” she asked, sorry that she’d let the giggles get the best of her. “Can I get you something?”

“No,” he said, lifting a reassuring hand. “But, you might want to tack that down.”

“I certainly will.”

One more thing to add to her to-do list.

Sarah closed the door and studied the envelope. The heavy stock was similar to the wedding invitations that they’d just put in the mail. She ran a finger over the raised glossy lettering accompanied by an official-looking stamp of the town municipal authority.
What now?

She carried the stack into the sunroom where she’d left her tea. Sitting at a little table she slit the logoed envelope with the nail of her index finger and carefully withdrew the page.

Her eyes scanned and rescanned the jargon, her gaze riveting again to a series of stunning snippets:
Official complaint, halt renovation, required limited use permit for parties on premises of bed-and-breakfasts.

Her heart pounded in her chest. Why would someone in Ronan’s Harbor file a complaint against her plans? Since when was it illegal to host your own child’s wedding? What the hell was a “conditional use permit?”

Her face flushed hot. Hadn’t her carpenter told her there’d been no need to obtain a building permit?

Out of nowhere, like a ghost from her past, an image of her ex-husband’s face popped into her head. She saw Gary’s scowl, and could almost hear his chortle at her ignorance.

Hannah’s footfalls sounded on the stairs and Sarah quickly slipped the letter back into its envelope, her fingers fumbling in the simple task. She tucked it at the bottom of the stack of mail and for good measure, she plopped her tea cup on top of the bundle. She took a deep, steadying breath.

“There you are,” Hannah called from the doorway.

Sarah turned to her daughter, eying the china cup in the girl’s hands. “Good morning.”

Hannah approached with careful, measured steps, holding her cup with two hands. “I poured some of your latest concoction. That okay?”

Hannah continued across the room, her coltish legs exposed beneath the hem of the plaid boxer shorts she’d slept in.

Sarah’s heart blipped with nostalgia. A quick flash of her daughter as a teenager came to mind, all legs and arms, softball uniform full of grass stains, hat visor askew, her yellow lab puppy, Parker, bounding at her heels.

Hannah took a sip from her delicate cup before licking her tongue over her lip. “What do you call this one, Mom?”

“The Wedding Tea,” Sarah said. She gave her daughter a sly grin. “You like?”

“Seriously, Mom?” Hannah laughed. “All the things on that to-do list of yours and you went first for dreaming up a tea for the event?”

“Divine, isn’t it? Citrus slices, apples, hibiscus, rosehips.” Sarah turned her gaze back to the sunroom, ignoring the doubt that laced her daughter’s words. She refused to turn her head in the direction of the mail that sat screaming at her from the corner of the table.

“You’re sure about tackling all this, right, Mom?” Hannah’s voice continued to ring with undeniable uncertainty.

Sarah snapped her head around to meet Hannah’s slate-blue gaze. She had her father’s eyes and she narrowed them just the way he did. Reflexively, Sarah bristled.

“Your wedding tea is not the
only
item checked off that list of mine, my dear. Believe me; I’ve got it all under control.” She felt her insides twist. At least that’s what she’d thought before the damned mail delivery.

Hannah shrugged, cocked her head as she perused the room. “Daddy said—”

A warning surged in Sarah veins. “I’m really not concerned with what your father said.”

She sat straight in her chair, her shoulders square. She could almost feel the walls of her Cornelia Inn reach to embrace her. She loved her inn.

Little had she known when Gary had purchased the inn eighteen years ago—his sole idea to provide Sarah what he termed a “nice little hobby”—that it would become hers alone in the divorce settlement. Nor had she known that the inn would become her salvation.

Now she wondered what it was that her ex had said to Hannah. But, she wouldn’t ask and knew she was better off not knowing.

“It’s just that, well, you’re sure this won’t be too much for you, right, Mom? The wedding’s around the corner and the guy hasn’t even started working on the storage room. You sure it’ll be ready in time?”

No.
Sarah shook the thought. “Of course.” Her tone was convincingly emphatic. “He told me three weeks, tops. His crew will be here on Monday. Don’t worry. I’m not.”

“Okay, but, I know it’s a lot with you just running The Cornelia. Planning my wedding and making sure all this gets done...” Hannah’s face scrunched with an effort to conceal her hesitancy, but it still clung to her words like sugar granules.

Sarah waved a nonchalant hand. “The invites are in the mail, remember? It’s full steam ahead now. I have no concerns, nor should you. Trust your mother.” Sarah didn’t verbalize the other part of her thought.
Trust your mother—the way your father never did—to do a good job.

She could just imagine Gary’s reaction to this latest tidbit of news from the town. Oh, he’d love to point the salon-groomed tip of his finger right at her face while laughing his sardonic sound through his dentist-treated blinding, broad smile. How many times over the years had he done just that?

BOOK: Letters and Lace (The Ronan's Harbor Series)
10.38Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Why Did You Lie? by Yrsa Sigurdardottir, Katherine Manners, Hodder, Stoughton
Hot Water by Sparks, Callie
The Stone Witch by Benjamin Hulme-Cross, Nelson Evergreen
Hawk Moon by Rob MacGregor
Ink by Amanda Anderson
The Dreaming Hunt by Cindy Dees