Heron's Landing

“I intend to, since you won’t be the one doing the planning. And quit calling me sir, bitch,” he roared back over his shoulder. “I’m an orthopedic surgeon, dammit!”

“Doctor Dick,” Brianna murmured under her breath, reminding herself that although this might not be her most fulfilling day, she was exactly where she’d always dreamed of being.

Working at the family tree farm had taught her she enjoyed working with people, helping each family find the perfect tree just for them. Watching Gilmore Girls, she’d always identified with Lorelai’s dream of creating a warm and caring environment in her very own inn, rather than working for someone else. And she’d even had a specific house in mind.

Then, while earning her degree in hospitality and hotel management, classmates and professors had tried to convince her that she’d be wasting her talents on a small town of seven thousand plus, stuck out on the Washington peninsula, where guests would have to travel by ferry or a long car ride over twisting mountain roads to visit. No, she’d been born for more important things, she’d been told. All she needed to do was give up those childish dreams of creating a life in the Pacific Northwest’s version of Star Hollow, and dream bigger. Bolder. Brighter.

It was during summer break between her sophomore and junior years, with more time to watch TV, that she’d become hooked on the Travel Channel, drinking in the splendor of the world’s grand hotels. By the time she returned to UW, she’d changed her focus, and after graduation and playing maid of honor at her best friend Zoe’s wedding to Seth Harper, she’d begun her gypsy life of traveling the country, working her way up to this gilded desk.

Dealing with demanding high rollers who expected their needs dealt with immediately, if not before they even realized they were going to want something, she’d honed her skills at making the impossible possible.

But while she might be near the pinnacle of her specialized hospitality world, there were times Brianna found herself missing those early days when she worked in less luxurious surroundings, dealing with more cordial families. Parents who’d appreciate a bowl of chicken noodle soup sent up to the room for a sick child, or honeymooners excited about something as simple as a bottle of house-labeled champagne and chocolate-dipped strawberries in their room. And later showing her that they’d put a photo on their wedding Facebook and Instagram pages.

Be careful what you wish for, she thought as she cleared the desk of her planner and files to make room for the night-shift concierge to take her place.

Although she’d been offered housing in a wing of the sprawling resort away from the casino, Brianna had opted to rent a studio apartment away from the noise and bustle of the strip. Along with the rise in income, each step up the hospitality ladder had brought additional responsibility and increased stress, but whenever she drove into the quiet, green environs of The Sanctuary with its sparkling blue pools and xeriscape, drought-resistant gardens that appealed to her inner environmentalist, the stress of her workday began to flow away.

But not tonight. She’d always been a positive person. Anyone who had a flash fire temper, or was even easily annoyed, would never succeed in her career. But as she reran the conversation with the doctor who wore his privilege the same way he undoubtedly wore his white hospital coat, a low, simmering irritation flowed through her. And had her thinking, yet again, of those happier early days. She considered going to the resort’s exercise room and working it off on the treadmill and elliptical, but opted instead for take-out pizza, a glass of wine and streaming a movie.

Another reason she’d chosen this apartment was that its white walls offered a blank canvas. As did the white furniture and white kitchen. A person could do anything they wanted to make it their own. But, she realized now, though it was a respite from the overexcessive gilt of Midas, it didn’t offer a single clue to the person who lived here. She hadn’t bought any posters, or paintings, or even colorful throw pillows. And although she’d practically grown up in her mother’s farm kitchen, she owned one frying pan, two pots, a teakettle, a coffee maker and a set of four white dishes and bowls she’d bought online. A nun’s room at a convent would undoubtedly have more personality.

Then again, she reminded herself as she kicked off her sensible black pumps, changed into yoga pants and an oversize Gotham Knights football jersey her brother Burke had sent her, she didn’t exactly live here. She ate takeout and slept. Her life was at Midas. Same as it had been at every other hotel she’d worked at over the years. Which was fine with her. Dedication to her career had paid off in escalating achievements and money. And although she experienced a sense of satisfaction when she waved her magic concierge wand and provided a magical happy outcome for guests, when was the last time she’d felt happy?

“You’re just in the dumps because of Doctor Dick,” she assured herself as she poured a glass of chardonnay. After calling in her take-out order, she sat down on the hard, snowy white couch, turned on her iPad and logged into the Honeymoon Harbor website, which she’d been doing more and more often since moving to the desert two years ago.

Clicking on the link to the town’s newspaper, the Honeymoon Harbor Herald, she scrolled through announcements of births, weddings, anniversaries and deaths, recognizing the names of people she’d known all of her life. People she’d grown up with. Harper Construction had renovated the old library, which had earned a national award for innovative green historical renovation. Seeing the photo of Seth Harper, appearing uncomfortable in a suit and tie, caused a twinge in Brianna’s heart.

She’d had a crush on him going back to first grade, when he’d shared his lunch box Ding Dong with her. Her mother was a farm-to-table cook who hadn’t allowed processed food in their home. Even now, looking back, Brianna wasn’t sure whether it was Seth’s dark-chocolate-brown eyes with their ridiculously long lashes or the sudden burst of sugar on her tongue that had caused her to fall.

Despite being a Harper, he’d been friends with her brothers, which had him around the farm a lot. During her elementary school years, whenever she’d play with her Barbies, she’d be bridal Barbie, and groom Ken had been renamed Seth. Unfortunately, he’d always viewed her as either his friend’s sister who’d insist on tagging along with them, or worse, one of the guys. By middle school, she still hadn’t caught his attention, but Brianna knew, with every fiber of her young, not-yet-budding body, that once they got to high school and her breasts grew larger than the puny little bumps sticking out from her chest and she got curves in other places—like maybe some hips that didn’t look like a boy’s?—Seth Harper would finally look up and notice that the girl of his dreams had been in front of him all along.

Maybe she’d even get a locker next to his. Those things could happen, right? After all, all those book writers and movie makers had to get the “meet cute” idea from somewhere. And one day, while he was taking out his book for their shared first-period English class, their eyes would meet, bells would chime, Disney bluebirds would sing and, forever and ever afterward, they’d be known to one and all as “Sethanna.”

Unfortunately, when they’d returned to school after the Christmas break their last year of middle school, he’d looked up, all right. But instead of being blinded by her not-yet-achieved perfection, instead he’d noticed Zoe Robinson, a new girl from Astoria, Oregon, whose father had brought the family across the Columbia River back to his hometown. From the moment Zoe had walked into that first-period homeroom, Seth’s swoony brown eyes had locked on to her. And Zoe had tumbled just as fast.

Brianna could have hated her. At first, she’d wanted to hate her. But the petite girl with the long dark curls turned out to be as friendly as she was pretty. With Seth seeming destined to forever stay in brother mode, and unable to ignore the little sparkly hearts that appeared to follow the couple around like fairy dust, by the summer of their sophomore year of high school, Brianna had resigned herself to the fact that the two were, in fact, the perfect couple. And over that time, Zoe had become like the sister Brianna had always dreamed of.

Not that any of that had stopped her from dreaming of Seth. Mature Audience Only dreams (she hadn’t had the experience to imagine the R-rated yet) that had her feeling guilty when she woke up, and making it hard to face either one of them the next day.

After graduation, Zoe had joined the Army, something she’d been talking about all through school, but Brianna hadn’t really believed she’d go through with. And, from what she could tell, her visit to the Port Angeles recruiting center had surprised even Seth. She’d always wanted to be a nurse, but loggers didn’t make that much money, and even with her part-time job waiting tables at the diner, her family hadn’t had the money for nursing school. Beginning with a descendant who’d first arrived on the peninsula from Seattle to serve at Port Townsend’s Fort Worden in the early 1900s—theoretically to thwart any invasion from the sea—every succeeding generation of Robinsons had had at least one military family member. Which was why Zoe, an only child without any brothers to carry on the tradition, had decided that letting the Army pay for college only made sense.

She and Seth had continued to date while she’d gone to school at UW, returning home on the weekends and for holidays. Although everyone in Honeymoon Harbor knew they were destined to spend their lives together, Seth had officially proposed on New Year’s Eve of Zoe’s final year, and after her graduation, once she’d been commissioned as a second lieutenant, they’d married in a simple ceremony held in the Moments in Time meadow at Lake Crescent Lodge in Olympic National Park.

Because Seth was a civilian, rather than wear her dress uniform, Zoe had chosen to be married in a simple white silk shantung sheath, while Brianna, who’d returned home from her job at the Winfield Palace Hotel in Atlanta to serve as one of Zoe’s two attendants, had worn a sleeveless dress with a flared skirt in a soft, dusty pink that mirrored the mountains’ icy glaciers at sunrise. The other bridesmaid, Kylee Campbell, had gone with a matching style in a kelly green that echoed the bright new needles on the fir trees surrounding the town.

After a weekend honeymoon at the lodge where President Franklin Roosevelt had once slept, Seth had stayed behind on the peninsula while Zoe headed off to San Antonio for more training. Afterward she’d gotten her choice assignment to serve at Joint Base Lewis-McChord’s Madigan Army Medical Center north of Olympia. So they’d moved into a rental near the base and considered themselves even more fortunate when she’d gotten to stay there for all four years of her active duty.

Although Brianna was busy moving from town to town, hotel to hotel, Zoe had kept her up to date with phone calls and texts. After finishing her active duty, the couple had returned to Honeymoon Harbor, where they moved into a house Seth got busy renovating. Zoe had been so excited about the house, texting pictures of the progress and links to Pinterest pages of ideas she had for making the small cottage perfect. She still owed the Army four years of Individual Ready Reserves, which apparently hadn’t seemed any big deal because it only involved mustering once a year, which she could even do online.

Tragically, just as her IRR time was coming to an end, she’d been deployed to Afghanistan, only to be killed in a suicide bombing at the hospital while on duty.

In the midst of transitioning from the Ritz-Carlton, Kapalua on Maui to the soon-to-be opened Midas, Brianna had flown home across the Pacific for her BFF’s burial in the veterans’ section of the Harborview Cemetery, where generations of Robinsons were buried. At the time, Seth had appeared numb. Now, looking more closely at his face on her iPad’s screen, his face appeared haggard, his dark eyes haunted.

Brianna sighed at the painful memory, swiped at a tear, checked her watch and saw that she still had another ten minutes before the pizza delivery. While Vegas might be a 24/7 city, when it came to takeout, weekend nights were especially heavy. So rather than have to interrupt her movie when the delivery guy finally arrived, she took another sip of wine and impulsively clicked on the link to the town’s real estate listings.

When she saw the Victorian on the bluff overlooking the harbor at the top of the For Sale column, Brianna’s heart, which had been hurting for her lifelong friend and former crush, took a leap.

Despite the unfortunate color choice someone had chosen for the exterior, it was her house! Growing up Catholic, with a high school principal for a mother, Brianna had tended to be a rule follower. One exception had been all those times she’d sneak into the abandoned three-story house with her brothers and Seth. Her brothers had claimed the house was haunted. Brianna hadn’t believed in ghosts, but even if it did have a resident wandering spirit or two, she wouldn’t have cared. The creaky old Victorian spoke to her in some elemental way. Much as that first amazing taste of a Ding Dong had done.

Even in those days, as she’d wandered through the dusty, cobweb-strewn rooms, she’d pictured it as it must have once been. And could be again. All it had needed, she’d believed, was some love and tender care. The house, named Herons Landing by its original timber baron owner for the many great blue herons that would roost in nests in the property’s towering Douglas fir trees, was, quite literally, Brianna’s dream home. But, like her youthful dreams of Seth Harper, it would remain someone else’s reality.

The doorbell rang, signaling the arrival of her spicy buffalo chicken pizza with Greek yogurt dressing. She logged out of the computer, paid for the meal and settled down to watch the opening of the Dragonfly Inn Gilmore Girls episode, which had inspired her to get into the hotel business. By the time all the first guests had arrived, Brianna had managed to put her encounter with the rude, gambling doctor behind her.

Spoiler alert: it wasn’t going to prove that easy.

CHAPTER THREE (#ue863acc8-22fb-58a3-a098-408b0c188a21)

THE LEAF RESTAURANT was located on Rainshadow Road in a bungalow in the center of town across from Discovery Square.

In contrast to the Victorian gingerbread exterior—which the town’s historical planning commission had refused to allow to be modernized—the owner of the restaurant, a transplanted chef from the San Francisco Bay area, had opted for a clean and simple Scandinavian look. Posters of vegetables, framed in light wood, brightened the glacier-white walls. Harper Construction had done the work, and although the furniture chosen by the Portland designer made Seth feel as if he were having dinner in an IKEA store, he was, nevertheless, pleased with how it had turned out.

He spotted the couple as soon as he came in. They were seated at a white table by the window overlooking a garden from which the chef sourced much of the restaurant’s herbs and vegetables. When Mike Mannion leaned across the table to take hold of his mom’s hand, Seth felt a very familiar twinge of loss.

There were too many reasons he’d missed Zoe two years after her death to catalog, but one of the worst was those random, impulsive moments when the two of them would get lost together in their own private world. He missed touching her. Tasting her...

No. Don’t go there. Remembering making love to his wife while having dinner with his mother and her maybe boyfriend, who she might even be having sex with (and didn’t that idea make him want to wash his mind out with bleach?), made this already awkward situation even weirder.

He cleared his throat as he approached the table. They moved apart, but easily. Naturally. Not at all as if they’d been caught in any inappropriate display of affection. Yet another possible indication that they’d moved beyond dinner dates that ended with a chaste good-night kiss at the door.

“There’s my handsome boy now!” Looking like a wood nymph in a long green suede dress and some sort of colorful stone hanging on a black velvet cord around her neck, his mother rose with a warm and welcoming smile. It had been a long time since he’d seen that smile. Having been wallowing in his own dark pit of grief for two years, Seth hadn’t paid all that much attention to gradual changes in his mother.

Seeing her now, so vibrant and joyful, as she’d been while he’d been growing up, he realized that her vibrancy had been fading away the last few years.

“I’m so glad you could join us!” Despite having lived nearly four decades in the Pacific Northwest, Caroline Harper’s Southern roots occasionally still slipped into her voice, bringing to mind mint juleps on a wide wraparound porch while a paddle-bladed fan spun lazily overhead.

Seth had visited his mother’s childhood home a few times as a kid, but hadn’t been back to the South since his grandparents had died. Both on the same day, he remembered now. His grandmother had died of a sudden heart attack while deadheading roses in her garden. Her husband of sixty years had literally died of a broken heart that same evening.

Maybe, he considered now, deep, debilitating grief ran in his family’s DNA. If so, his grandfather Lockwood had been more fortunate than he. At least the old man he remembered always smelling of cherry tobacco from his pipe hadn’t had to linger for years and years, suffering the loss of his soul mate.

Unlike so many in the Pacific Northwest, whose wardrobes tended toward hoodies, flannel, T-shirts and jeans, his mother had started dressing all New Agey, which could have looked ridiculous, but suited her perfectly.

Going up on her toes, she kissed his cheek. Then leaned back and sniffed what he realized was undoubtedly the aroma of grilled beef he’d brought with him from the pub. Laughter danced in her green eyes. “Seems this is your second meal of the night.”

“Consider yourself busted,” Mannion said on a laugh as he stood up and held out a hand. “I stopped in Port Angeles on the way back from the coast last week for some ribs and brisket and I’d no sooner walked in the door of your mother’s place when she asked me if I had a death wish.”

“You smelled of pit smoke,” she scolded him. “And that barbecue platter is a heart attack waiting to happen. At our age, we have to start taking care of ourselves. I don’t want you keeling over on me.”

“Not going to happen,” the older man countered. “You’re not going to get rid of me that easily.”