The Sweetest Discovery Read online

  “The Sweetest Discovery”

  Three Sisters Cafe #4

  By Laura Ann

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  THE SWEETEST DISCOVERY

  First edition. September 13, 2022.

  Copyright © 2022 Laura Ann.

  ISBN: 979-8201589332

  Written by Laura Ann.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  DEDICATION

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  NEWSLETTER

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  EPILOGUE

  DEDICATION

  To my twinners.

  I’m in awe every time I look at you

  and see what wonderful young women

  you are becoming.

  Thank you for allowing me along

  on the journey. It’s been such an honor.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  No author works alone. Thank you, Tami.

  You make it Christmas every time

  I get a new cover. And thank you to my Beta Team.

  Truly, your help with my stories is immeasurable.

  NEWSLETTER

  You can get a FREE book by joining my Reading Family!

  Every week we share stories, sales and good old fun.

  Go to lauraannbooks.com to sign up!

  PROLOGUE

  Michael leaned his shoulder against the wall, a soft smile playing on his lips. He was excited for Maeve. She and Ethan would be very happy together. Anyone with a lick of sense knew that and had known it since they were all kids together.

  Ethan's extroverted carefreeness and Maeve’s more watchful and reserved personality would keep their relationship balanced. She would pull him down from the clouds and he would push her out of her comfort zone.

  As witnessed by this morning’s surf lesson, Michael thought with a chuckle.

  “Cake?”

  Michael nodded as Gavin handed him a plate, then leaned against the wall himself. “Thanks,” he murmured, taking a large bite. Geez, his cousin could bake. It paid to be related to the Harrisons. World class food for free. No one could top that.

  “What’s got that smoke coming out of your ears?” Gavin questioned.

  Michael snorted. “Smoke? The wheels aren’t turning that hard.”

  Gavin shrugged. “Something’s churning in there. Figuring out your lesson plans for tomorrow?”

  Michael chuckled. “Nah. They’re set for the year. Though, how to keep the kids engaged is another story. This is the time of year when they start feeling like it’ll all last forever and they get antsy.”

  “I thought that was only the little guys,” Gavin said. “In middle school they have sports and other activities. Doesn’t that help?”

  Michael shook his head. “Nope. They still can’t sit still.”

  “I’m so glad I don’t have your job.”

  “I don’t know...putting out fires and teaching literature to tweens and teens carries about the same amount of danger.”

  Gavin’s laughter was heavy and low. He was a large guy and his voice, though usually quiet, had a depth to it that few others could pull off. “I’ll stick with the fires.”

  “And the weight benches.” Michael frowned. “Is it my imagination, or are you getting bigger?”

  Gavin smirked. “It’s the off season,” he said. “Gotta do something to keep busy.”

  Michael nodded. “Understandable. Wildfires are a lot less frequent during the winter and I don’t usually hear of too many house or business fires around here.”

  Gavin shook his head. “Nope. Not too many. Which is a blessing...and a curse.” He gave a jerk of his chin. “I’m gonna go get a drink. Want anything?”

  “Nah. I’m fine here in my little corner, thanks.”

  Shaking his head good-naturedly, Gavin weaved through the crowd.

  Michael sighed and set himself back into people watching. Slowly, his group of friends was starting to pair off. First Aspen, followed by Mason and Harper. Now it was Ethan and Maeve. What was interesting was how long they’d all known each other, and the last two engagements were the result of people finding love within their group.

  He tilted his head, letting his eyes linger on the other women he was friends with. There was Riley, of course. She was close with his cousins. She was peppy and fun and her light blue eyes would attract any man’s attention.

  Michael blew out a breath. Nope. Not that one. She was his friend and he never found himself wanting to push those boundaries.

  A flash of red caught his attention and Michael watched Brielle throw her head back and laugh at something Jayden was saying. Brielle was also beautiful, in her own way. Long, wavy hair and brown eyes. She was spunky, said what was on her mind and loved to try and “keep up with the boys,” as she put it.

  Michael shook his head again. That wasn’t for him. He liked his quiet life, and time spent with Brielle was anything but quiet.

  He let his eyes wander again. His mother would be so disappointed in his lack of interest. He was one of the oldest of the cousins and now that there were two getting married, she’d be pushing him to find his significant other. But single females seemed to be getting thin on the ground, at least amongst those he was familiar with.

  For the umpteenth time, he debated whether he should look to start next fall in a bigger city. There was something to be said for the peaceful familiarity of the small beach town he grew up in. Michael had his students for multiple years and got to be good friends with a few. He enjoyed knowing all the parents and being able to work one-on-one with children in a way that larger schools and areas couldn’t handle.

  But knowing everyone since birth also makes for a hard social life.

  “We’re so glad you made it!” Aspen gushed, jerking Michael’s attention away from his musing. Aspen was hugging someone at the front door and Michael frowned, unable to figure out who had been missing.

  Dark, nearly black, corkscrew curls were pulled up into a bun with a few stray spirals framing an oval face.

  Quinn, Michael said to himself. He’d forgotten about her. She was fairly new to Seagull Cove and Michael had yet to be introduced, though they’d attended a couple of events together as a large group. Quinn had opened an antique shop in town, which was a perfect addition to every small coastal city along the Pacific coastline.

  He watched her smile shyly and tuck one of the curls behind her ear, only for it to spring right back where it wanted to be.

  Michael laughed softly to himself. He couldn’t see her eye color from his corner, but they looked much lighter than her hair, creating an interesting contrast. Her skin was a study in porcelain, giving her a slightly paranormal look. She could easily pull off a vampire anytime she wanted with a simple swipe of red lipstick.

  She was taller than Aspen and willowy in a way the Italian Harrisons lacked. While no one would ever mistake Quinn for anything but a woman, her curves were much more subtle.
r />   Michael found himself slowing down in his cake consumption as he watched her. Something about the line of her jaw and the tenderness of her smile kept his attention. Her movements were fluid and elegant and when she finally spoke, it seemed that her hands were an active part of the conversation.

  There were scores of poems and ballads written about women just like Quinn. Her ethereal beauty was the kind that Medieval men went to war over and Michael could just see some soldier declaring his undying love to her before shipping across seas.

  “There’s that smoke again.”

  Michael blinked, finally wrenching his mind out of his too wild imagination. His love of stories and fantasy didn’t always serve him well in social situations. “Are you feeling more hydrated now?” Michael asked, hoping no one had noticed his staring.

  Gavin huffed. “Yeah. But I’m about ready to blow this joint. The cake’s gone and no one will stop talking about dates and dresses.” He raised an eyebrow. “Do school teachers ever play hooky?”

  Michael cleared his throat, still trying to force his brain into an appropriate line of thought. “Uh, yeah. Sure. I’m done here.” His eyes flashed to those dark curls one more time and his curiosity went up yet another notch. Maybe he hadn’t quite ruled out all the possibilities in this town.

  He’d muse on it for a while, but he was starting to think that a trip to the newest shop in town just might be in his future.

  CHAPTER 1

  “And yet another lantern,” Quinn muttered to herself as she tried to find room on the shelf for her newest addition. While she personally adored a vintage lantern, they weren’t selling quite as fast as she was able to acquire them. “Actually...” She continued grumbling. “They’re not selling at all.”

  She sighed, pushed the inventory around until it all fit and headed back to her box of treasures. When she’d left her job as a teacher on the East Coast and moved to Oregon to open an antique shop, she’d had grand dreams of becoming so popular she’d be featured on television shows and travel vlogs around the world.

  Reality had been a cruel mistress, and instead, Quinn had found herself barely scraping by after paying the bills every month. It didn’t help that her shop was tiny and the sign out front wasn’t nearly as eye catching as she wanted it to be. But how could she upgrade if she couldn’t make any money?

  It takes money to make money.

  A grin pulled at Quinn’s lips. That had always been one of her grandfather’s favorite sayings. She wished he would say it to her again, but he’d passed several years ago, leaving her alone, which was exactly why she’d had no support system when it came to fighting for her position at her last job.

  Shaking her head, Quinn forced the dark thoughts out of her head. “It always takes time to build a dream,” she reminded herself. She’d only been open for six months. Businesses sometimes took years to get off the ground. “At least you’re paying the bills,” she continued speaking to the empty store. “You might not be gaining ground, but you’re not losing it either.”

  She glanced at the clock, noting that it was still two hours before closing. Maybe, if she was lucky, there’d be a small burst of customers during the dinner hour. One can always hope. She grabbed her duster from behind the front desk and started walking through the shop, slowly shifting the dust around.

  She’d learned from hard experience that the dust in a coastal town didn’t really go away. Between the sand on the beach and the ocean wind, dust was an everyday part of life here in Seagull Cove.

  The bell above the door chimed and Quinn turned, a smile quickly crossing her face. “Welcome,” she called out, hurrying to the front. She forced herself to slow a little. Don’t want to frighten them by being overeager.

  Three elderly women walked in and Quinn rubbed her mental hands in glee. They were always the ones to spend the most in a shop like hers. “How can I help you?” Quinn asked, setting the duster on the counter.

  “Do you have any doilies?” one of the women asked.

  Quinn held back a groan. Doilies. What was it about those lacey little things that grandmas liked so much? They’re cheap. Quinn smiled at the thought, but tried to present it like it was in response to the question. “Of course. Allow me to show you.”

  The three women chattered quietly behind her as Quinn led them to a curio cabinet where she had porcelain dishes, crystal knickknacks and, of course, the desired doilies, on display. “Anything visible is for sale,” Quinn clarified. “If you want me to reach something that’s under another antique, just let me know.”

  She started to walk away, leaving the women to look at their leisure, but a hand on her arm stopped her.

  “Thank you, sweetie,” the woman said with a soft smile. The lines around her eyes deepened as her mouth widened. “You know...you remind me a lot of my granddaughter.”

  Quinn’s smile was much more genuine this time. “That’s very sweet, thank you.”

  “Please tell me you don’t mean the granddaughter who ran off and married that bozo in Vegas?” one of the other women piped up.

  Quinn’s smile fell.

  “Now you hush,” the original speaker scolded. She turned back to Quinn. “You pay her no mind. Just because my granddaughter made a fool of herself, doesn’t mean she wasn’t beautiful. Just like you.”

  “The trouble is, she knew she was beautiful.” The other woman snickered.

  The one speaking to Quinn rolled her eyes. “At least I expect Avery to grow up,” she called to her friend. “That’s more than can be said for you, Martha.”

  The woman who was teasing huffed and began looking at the display again.

  The first woman patted Quinn’s arm. “You’re stunning. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” She lowered her voice and leaned in conspiratorially. “And also don’t let anyone use that to their advantage.”

  Quinn’s smile had turned brittle and she hoped the woman couldn’t read her discomfort in her eyes. “Thank you,” she said tightly. “I’ll remember.”

  After patting her arm one more time, the woman returned to her friends and Quinn walked on stiff legs back to the front of the shop. Stunning. Bah! Who cared? Quinn tucked one of her tightly ringletted curls behind her ear, though she knew from plenty of experience that it wouldn’t stay there.

  She hated it when people spoke about her looks. She knew some of her features were...unique. But there were plenty of prettier and more sophisticated women out in the world. Why did people have to pick on her?

  The curl she’d tucked back sprang out and softly hit the side of Quinn’s face. She winced, though the touch hadn’t hurt. But it reminded her too much of... Quinn shook her head. No, she scolded herself. I’m not letting Adam have any more brain space. He’s taken up too much of my life already.

  Picking her duster back up, Quinn went back to work while keeping an eye on her customers. The next couple of hours went slowly, though she had a few people in and out. Hopefully, patronage would pick up as the tourist season hit in the next couple of months.

  The Oregon Coast in the late winter and early spring wasn’t exactly a huge draw. Cold and damp were descriptions that landed on very few people’s dream vacation lists. A few diehards came through, but her new friends warned Quinn that the amount of people wouldn’t pick up until May or June.

  Let’s just hope I can wait that long, she thought.

  Finally, she turned the sign to “closed” on the door and locked up. After triple checking every entrance to the storefront, Quinn pulled out her bike and headed home. She had a car, but unless it was raining, she used her bike as a way to get in her exercise.

  What would have been a seven minute commute in the car was more like twenty minutes on the bike, but it always helped her feel better when she got out and got her body moving.

  Punching in the code on her garage, Quinn parked her bike against the wall, closed the garage door and headed inside. Once there, her evening ritual began. She picked up the baseball bat she kept at the gara
ge entrance and walked into the house, checking that all was still locked up tight and that she was indeed alone. Once she felt relatively safe, she put the bat back where it belonged and headed to the kitchen to make dinner.

  Flipping on the television to make a little noise, Quinn sat down with her plate and zoned out while she ate. After finishing, she washed her dishes by hand, placed them in the drainer, grabbed a cookie from the cupboard and her current read and settled on the couch.

  Fifteen minutes later, she sighed and tossed the book away from her. Most of the time there was something so comforting about having a routine, but other days, she found herself struggling. She didn’t used to be so strict in her behavior. She loved to dream and imagine and create...but Adam had stolen more than brain space from Quinn. He’d taken safety and replaced it with fear. He’d taken her whimsy and replaced it with logic. He’d stolen her dreams and replaced them with strategy.

  Leaning forward, Quinn put her head in her hands. “No more,” she chanted. “No more...please no more...”

  “SO YOUR ASSIGNMENT tonight...” Michael trailed off when his class groaned. He smirked. “We’re three quarters of the way through the school year,” he reminded the group of middle school students. “Did you really think you wouldn’t have homework?”

  “Maybe we’re just hoping that you’re running out of material,” a boy from the back called.

  Everyone snickered at his comment.

  Michael smiled in return. “Sorry. I never run out of material.” His smile widened when the kids made another fuss. “Read the rest of the story and we’ll discuss how the themes carry through the end. Also, come prepared to talk about symbolism. What we started out with might not be how we end.”

  The bell rang and the kids moved faster than they had for the last fifty minutes. Desks were cleared and sneakers skidded across linoleum with enough speed to make a Kentucky Derby horse jealous.