CHAPTER NINE
Hope stopped to read the notices on the Roar’s board. They had a new event happening this year. The Howling Boat Race. All materials used had to be recycled.
“What the hell is it with you people,” Hope muttered. She’d never known a community that loved events quite like this place. They had the annual Winter Solstice Carnival, the Night Carnival, the Last Bake Out, and for the craziest among them, the Hot Foot Run. Now they were to have a Water Festival. Hope had no idea what that would encompass but hoped she was long gone before it happened. The date said three weeks, so she should be safe.
“It’s going to be quite an event.”
Hope turned at the Irish burr. She looked into the eyes of DJ O’Donnell, world-famous crime writer, and father to one Branna McBride, also a crime writer. Tall and lean, he had a friendly expression on his face and was still a handsome man.
“Not sure we’ve met, but you’ve got the look of your mother. I’m Declan.”
“Hello, I’m Hope Lawrence.”
“Branna told me you were back. You come into town for supplies?”
“My mother gave me a list.”
“I have a list too, after speaking to my daughter on the phone.” His smile was the kind that had you responding even if you didn’t want to. “She also said she’d make me lunch if I picked the stuff up for her, and as that includes a cuddle with my granddaughter, I’d say I’m onto a good thing.”
“Winning deal then,” Hope said. Project a pleasant facade, the Texan had said. Maybe she should give it a try while she was home, and people would leave her alone.
“You coming inside? Mac’s got pretty much everything a person could need. Of course, there’s always the grocery store too.”
Hope had the feeling she’d been failing him in some way if she went the way of the grocery store to get her things.
“Ah, sure.”
“Come on in then. With luck there’ll be some homemade lemonade ready.”
Hope refused to say “ah, sure” again, so she silently followed him, unsure how she could do anything else. The scent hit her. She’d loved this place as a kid. Candles, chocolate, soaps, the scents all mingled to tantalize you.
“How’s your mother?”
“What?” She spun to face Mac Drubber. He looked the same, although perhaps a bit more grizzled. “Oh hey, Mr. Drubber.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “Just Mac to you now, girl.”
“Have I reached the age then?”
“I’m Mr. Drubber between ten and twenty.”
Hope surprised herself by laughing again. It sounded rusty and unfamiliar.
“Okay, thanks, Mac.”
“So your mom’s doing okay? Not driving you crazy yet?”
“Only been back four days, Mac. Give her time.”
“She’s a smart woman, that mother of yours. People just don’t read her right, is my opinion, if you’re asking.”
She hadn’t been, but listened anyway.
“She’s just not into the small talk and pleasantries that most in this town are. When she actually spends time talking one-on-one, she’s got some good stuff to say.”
“Ah, sure.”
Well now, this was just plain weird. Her mother was probably the least loved member of Lake Howling, and here was Mac championing her. Very odd, to her mind.
“Any chance you’re using that thing around your neck for the greater good?” He pointed to her camera.
“Pardon?” Hope was suddenly wary.
“I need some updated photos for the store website. I’m getting into online sales. I’ll pay you.”
“Not sure how long I’ll be here, Mac.”
“Need work, don’t you?”
Hope nodded. She did actually, because her mother didn’t have money to throw around and her being here had put pressure on the household budget.
“Then you can take the photos, and I’ll pay you. A win for both of us.”
“Sure sounds like it to me,” Declan said, until then standing quietly and listening.
“Okay then,” Hope said, because she always found it hard to say no to people who had known her since she was in diapers. Respect is a bitch, she thought. Being raised here and by a mother who was a stickler for manners, they were ingrained in her.
He smiled. Hope collected a basket, and walked down an aisle before someone else came in and asked her to take photos of their pet or baby. She looked at the notice pinned to the beam before her.
“The boats have to be made from natural materials, and the one that makes it around the course Henrietta sets out, wins. Supposedly, it’s drawn a bit of interest from out-of-towners.” Declan appeared at her side.
“Sounds like fun.”
“Will be if I can beat Jake.”
“What’s your boat made of?” Hope asked.
He tapped his nose. “I can’t give away my secrets, in case you enter, Hope.”
“That’s not likely,” she said, dropping some handmade soap into her basket, beside the honey that she knew was the best there was.
“Never say never, girl,” he said, trying to take her basket. She held on.
“I got it, thanks.”
“You don’t like people helping you, do you, Hope?”
“What? Sure, I just don’t need help with my basket.” She could hear the defensive tone in her voice.
“The thing is, in this town, help comes your way whether you want it or not. So my advice to you is don’t resist, it’s easier all round.”
“I was raised here, I know that.” She hadn’t meant to snap, but it had come out that way.
“Must have been a nice place to grow up in.”
It had been for the most part.
“Sure.”
“Well, if you need anything I can help you with, let me know.”
“I read your latest book,” Hope said before she could stop herself, because she shouldn’t have snapped at him for being nice. “I really enjoyed it, although what’s with you letting that baddy Freefold live?”
Declan smiled.
“There’s always the second book in the series to kill him off in, Hope. Have a little faith.”
“Ha,” she managed. Faith in people had never been her strong suit.
Every muscle in Hope’s body clenched as she heard Mac call out Newman’s name. She looked for an escape route, but none was forthcoming.