The Sweetest Season

  The Sweetest Season

  Three Sisters Cafe

  Book Five

  Laura Ann

  Contents

  Untitled

  Acknowledgments

  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

  Chapter 28

  Epilogue

  Untitled

  “The Sweetest Season”

  Three Sisters Cafe #5

  To my Father in Heaven.

  There will never be enough thanks

  for the gifts and blessings I enjoy

  on a daily basis.

  Acknowledgments

  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

  Gavin tried not to fidget. His best friend was getting married and it was not a good time to act like a restless two year old. Especially since Gavin was standing at the front of the church as the best man.

  “I now pronounce you man and wife,” the preacher said with a smile.

  Despite the whoops and hollers that followed the couple kissing, all Gavin could feel was relief. His tie was choking him, he was sweating like a pig in his suit, the air in the church apparently hadn’t moved in twenty years, and the lovey-dovey scene going on in front of him was making him slightly nauseous.

  You’re jealous.

  Much as he would like to, Gavin had no argument for the stupid voice in his head. It was right.

  He was jealous.

  That was supposed to have been him. Not that Gavin was in love with Quinn or begrudged Michael his happy ending. It was simply having a happy ending that was the struggle.

  A hand slapped his back and Gavin glared at Jayden’s grinning face.

  “You’re supposed to look like you want to be here,” Jayden said out of the corner of his mouth. “Stop being such a sourpuss and pretend like this is your favorite thing ever.”

  Gavin rolled his eyes. “I’m not that bad,” he muttered.

  Jayden gave him a look as they made their way down from the front stand in the church. “Dude, you look like someone poured lemon juice in your breakfast cereal.”

  Gavin gave Jayden a small push with his elbow. “Watch it, or I’ll take you out back.”

  “Geez,” Jayden whined, rubbing his shoulder. “What are you bench pressing now? Semi trucks?”

  Gavin smirked. It was true. He’d gotten quite a bit bigger in the last year. Yeah…because you have nothing else to do but lift weights, that sarcastic voice shot out again.

  “If you didn’t waste your time running around taking pictures of butterflies, you might be able to impress the ladies as well.”

  Jayden scoffed. “If it was actually my goal to get female attention, believe you me, friend, I wouldn’t have any trouble.”

  Gavin chuckled and shook his head. “And yet here you are…a single pringle…friend.”

  “Single pringle?” Jayden made a face. “What are you? Twelve?”

  Gavin gave Jayden another push.

  “Why do you feel the need to solve everything with violence?” Jayden groaned.

  “Gentlemen,” Mrs. Dunlap scolded, coming up beside them. “We’re trying to gather for pictures?” It might have been phrased as a question, but there was no denying the expectation behind the words.

  Gavin gave Michael’s mom his best smile. “I couldn’t exactly walk over there unless I had the most beautiful woman in the room on my arm, now could I?”

  Mrs. Dunlap blushed and laughed before shaking her finger at Gavin. “Little Gavin, if I didn’t know you so well, I’d say you were quite a charmer.” She was one of the few people who still got away with calling Gavin by his childhood nickname.

  Jayden snorted.

  Mrs. Dunlap rolled her eyes. “I do know you, Jayden. And I think maybe you should take lessons from Gavin.”

  Jayden gaped and blustered, but Gavin could only laugh. He loved Michael’s family. Gavin’s family had moved away from the Oregon Coast during his college years and were determined to never come back, which suited Gavin just fine. They had originally moved to the area when he was little because of his father’s work.

  They had left because the small town life had felt stifling.

  Gavin completely disagreed…most of the time. He loved their town. He loved it enough that after getting his master’s he’d come back and joined their district as a volunteer firefighter until he was able to get through the academy and be hired officially, despite the disdain of his family who hated that he was wasting the education they’d provided him with.

  But lately? Lately he’d understood their need for more.

  At one point in time, Gavin had had the world at his fingertips. He’d been top of his class, following his father’s footsteps to become a financial advisor, the job offers were pouring in and the most beautiful woman on campus was hanging on his arm.

  But right before graduation, just as Gavin had been ready to celebrate a proposal and a graduation…well…

  He shook his head and offered his arm to Mrs. Dunlap. “Shall we?” he asked.

  Michael’s mom put her fingers on his elbow and tapped his forearm with her other hand. “Little Gavin…I think perhaps we need to make sure you’re next.”

  Gavin shook his head. “Nice as that thought is,” he said while navigating the crowd, “I don’t think being settled down is for me.”

  “What about me?” Jayden asked from behind them.

  “You need to grow up a bit more,” Mrs. Dunlap told her nephew.

  Jayden grumbled and while Gavin enjoyed the familial ribbing, he focused on simply putting one foot in front of the other.

  Several years ago, he would have agreed with Mrs. Dunlap. The woman who was like a mother to him. He’d wanted a wife and a family and to be just like his best friend Michael, who had more family than he knew what to do with.

  But life hadn’t been kind and despite the jealousy coursing through Gavin’s system, he had no desire to open himself up to the heartache he was certain would follow if he tried again.

  Once was definitely enough.

  “Give it time,” Mrs. Dunlap said softly, glancing up at him and continuing their conversation. “It heals all wounds.”

  Gavin gave her a smile, but there was no hope or humor in it. He came from stock that prized money and power over family and he seemed destined to be affected by it…no matter how much he wanted otherwise.

  “You know, usually we’re waiting on the bride and groom,” Michael said, sauntering over as the small group emerged from the church. He gave his cousin a look. “Not the photographer.”

  Gavin looked at Jayden, who smirked. “Some things are worth waiting for,” Jayden shot back before wal
king toward his pile of equipment.

  Mrs. Dunlap let go of Gavin and walked away with her son, leaving Gavin by himself, in the middle of a large crowd. Some things might be worth waiting for, his inner voice grumbled. But some are also worth avoiding. Good thing I know the difference.

  Chapter 1

  Felicia signed the check with a flourish, tore it out of the book and handed it to the waiting secretary. She rarely wrote checks anymore, but on this occasion, the act of doing more than a card swipe felt particularly more significant.

  “Thank you,” the older woman said with a gracious smile. “Your account with us is closed.”

  Felicia’s smile was equal parts relieved and guilty. She put the pen back in the holder, snapped her checkbook closed and stuffed it in her purse. “Thank you,” she said with a tight smile. She turned, wanting out of the stuffy building.

  “Have a nice day!” the secretary called cheerily.

  Felicia politely smiled over her shoulder. “You as well.” She pushed open the glass front door and sucked in a deep breath. The air was cold and left a biting sensation in her throat, but it was so much better than the bitter smell of grief and despair inside the funeral home.

  She forced her legs to keep moving and made it all the way to her car just in time to collapse in the seat. The vinyl of the driver’s bench was icy, but Felicia didn’t care. At least she felt something other than guilt. That heavy companion had been sitting on her shoulders for two weeks now and Felicia couldn’t figure out how to get rid of the unwanted houseguest.

  Her trembling fingers found her keys and she started the car, blasting the heat even though the air was cold. It would more than likely warm up faster than her own heart did, so…

  Felicia snorted at her morbid thoughts and shook her head. “That’s what you get for being a writer,” she grumbled at herself. “Everything has to be overly dramatic.”

  The half hour drive home was unfulfilling, but she made it without incident. Truthfully, nothing was satisfactory at the moment. Felicia sat in her car in the garage, almost afraid to go inside. Every time she went in, she had to confront, all over again, the fact that her mother was well and truly gone.

  Her vision wavered and Felicia cleared her throat. It wasn’t like it hadn’t been expected. Carly Layton had been fighting Alzheimers for nearly six years, almost the entirety of Felicia’s adult life. The last couple of months had been very clear that the battle was in its last stages and that Felicia’s burden of care was nearing an end.

  She stared at the door to the house. It didn’t feel like home anymore, though Felicia had lived there for almost twenty years. It was the only house she remembered from her childhood. Small and quaint, it had been all her mother Carly could afford after the divorce. Seattle wasn’t exactly known for its low cost of living.

  But they had made it work. Carly had worked at Felicia’s school, leaving them many hours together in the afternoons and all major holidays. It was more than most kids had…which only made the feelings of relief much more difficult to bear.

  “It's perfectly normal,” Felicia chanted to herself, forcing her legs to remove her from the car. “Anyone who’s been the sole caretaker for a person will find a measure of relief.” Felicia wiped away a stray tear. “Even if that person was amazing.”

  She twisted the knob and walked inside. The heat was running, but no other sounds greeted her. Felicia dumped her purse on the couch and went straight to the kitchen. She wasn’t hungry, but it gave her something to do.

  Grabbing the fridge handle, she tore it open, determined to find a cure for her blues, but the sight of so few options only made her gut churn with nausea. Closing her eyes and sighing in resignation, she closed the door and went to the sitting room. The couch was empty, except for a few throw pillows. Carly didn’t like a lot of fluff and one of the quirks of her mental illness was the desire to shred things, like blankets or magazines or books.

  It had taken some quick thinking to make the house more Alzheimers friendly. It seemed that every week, Felicia’s mother had had some new quirk that Felicia had to figure out how to keep contained.

  She grabbed her phone and punched a couple of buttons, turning on the television. Eventually, she made her way to an old romantic comedy. It had always made Felicia smile, but today, she didn’t feel like smiling.

  She scooted her backside forward and slouched until her back and head were burrowed in the cushion. She wanted to feel sad.

  She had thought paying off the funeral home bill would actually help her feel good. Her bank account was finally her own, again. Maybe it was the low number inside the account…maybe it was the quietness of the house…maybe it was simply the loss of a beautiful soul…whatever it was…Felicia didn’t want to do anything except wallow in her misery and guilt.

  Her eyes strayed from the television and landed on her computer, innocently waiting on the table. It didn’t say a word, didn’t send a message about the half written story on its hard drive, didn’t scream in anger or weep in despair at being neglected. It lay quietly and peacefully, as if assured of its importance. An importance that Felicia had given it over the years of becoming a published author.

  She’d spent thousands of hours in front of that screen…but not the last few weeks. The last couple of weeks had been filled with other priorities. Namely, making her mother’s last few moments on Earth as pain free as possible.

  But now the computer beckoned, adding another layer of guilt to the typhoon already churning in Felicia’s stomach.

  She groaned and allowed herself to fall sideways, curling into a ball on the couch. Life was so unfair. No woman in her twenties should have to bury her mother. The one person on Earth who had cared about Felicia’s dreams and ambitions.

  When Felicia had declared she would rather write than go to college, Carly had cheered her on, even though the bank account that had been set up since Felicia’s birth went unused.

  Well..unused until medical bills began to pile up. In the end, Felicia’s occupation had been a blessing in disguise. She made enough to live on, and the college savings had been instrumental in keeping her out of debt when her mom required extra help. Now with the funeral home taken care of, the only bills left were the ones Felicia would encounter monthly.

  And I’d change every bit of it, if it meant five more minutes with Mom.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to stop the leaking tears. How could there be any left? Felicia could have watered the entire public park with the amount of water she’d shed in the last couple of months.

  Hugging her knees, she curled into herself and tried to hear her mother’s voice.

  If you need to cry, you let yourself cry, her mom would have said. Life can be hard and we need the opportunity to feel it. Feel it, embrace it for a moment, but don’t let it own you.

  Felicia could see her mother’s light blue eyes as clear as day.

  Don’t let sadness take hold of you, because its grasp is tighter than a barnacle on a cargo ship. Her blond waves would shift from side to side as she shook her head vigorously. You’re stronger than that. Cry if you must. But eventually stand up. Wipe your face, throw back your shoulders and be the woman you’re meant to be. Nothing else will do, Fi. That’s the only way to find happiness.

  “Tonight,” Felicia whispered to the empty room. “Tonight I’ll cry. But tomorrow…it’s time to change. Tomorrow the tears are done.”

  Gavin wiped the sweat off his forehead and threw his weight lifting gloves into his bag.

  “Ready to head home?” Dave asked.

  Gavin smiled. “Yep.”

  “Good thing. You need a shower.”

  Gavin scowled good-naturedly. “I can see the stains under your arms. Isn’t that a bit like the pot calling the kettle black?”

  Dave laughed and threw his duffle over his shoulder. He walked over and slapped Gavin on the shoulder. “The difference is, my sweat is from old age. You came by yours honestly.”

  “And th
at makes it smell more?” Gavin asked wryly.

  Dave’s gray eyebrows shot up. “Of course. I always come up smelling like roses. I’d think you understand that by now.”

  Gavin shook his head, chuckling as he watched his friend walk out of the firehouse. They’d been on duty for forty-eight hours and were now switching over. Like most days, it had been a dull shift. Fall was just about to give way to winter and that meant time dragged very slowly on the Oregon Coast.

  During the summer, they had the occasional grass fire and camping fires to contend with. Once in a while, there was the horrible house fire, but those were few and far between. House calls usually had to do with out of control leaf burning, or other such nonsense.

  But during the winter? With gas fireplaces being more commonplace than wood anymore, the firehouse sat still and quiet for months on end. It left Gavin with little to do except work out and his friends were already teasing him about resembling an NFL linebacker.

  He threw his clothes and gear into his truck, climbed up into the driver’s seat and started the heavy, rumbling engine. In a small town like Seagull Cove, his truck was probably overkill, but Gavin enjoyed it anyway.

  He liked camping and the outdoor life, and his truck was the perfect companion.

  He maneuvered his way through the small main street to his cabin tucked back in a woodsy area on the outskirts of town. His cabin was on the smallish side, but it was exactly his style. The family house he’d grown up in was in the middle of town and was two stories high. A person couldn’t miss it when driving. His personal residence was nothing like that.