Chapter 1
“Creation is the heart of art. No matter if the product isn’t quite what you want, the act of creation is one of rejuvenation. People need to celebrate not only the successes of their work, but their failures as well.” Meredith Cole glanced around the Coffee, Books, and More shop, crowded with Business-to-Business attendees. Her sharp features made her straight red hair stand out even more. And her green eyes were narrowed and focused on the audience. No one would ever call this woman warm and fuzzy. But somehow, her message and her voice felt soft and encouraging as she continued. “No matter what our job entails, we are all artists and creators inside.”
Spring had finally arrived in the coastal California town, or at least spring without rain. The sun was shining, the birds singing, and after our newest business owner finished with her talk on Why Art Matters, the group of small business owners would be brainstorming marketing events for the upcoming months. A topic I was much more invested in than getting in touch with my creative side.
“Maybe you have one deep, deep inside you.” Toby Killian leaned across the table and refilled my coffee mug. His strong jaw and dark, short hair made him look more like one of the romance novel cover models than a coffee shop barista. Of course, his other job was as a South Cove police officer, so he did have that hero attitude. “Didn’t Jackie take decorating the store off your list of chores after the last Valentine’s disaster?”
“Purple and black are totally appropriate Valentine’s colors in my mind.” I grinned at my part-time barista. Toby had been my first employee not related to me. Aunt Jackie had been the first, and even though I’d thought it had been a temporary offer of help so many years ago, my aunt was still here. Well, she would be here as soon as she and Harrold got back from their long weekend in Arizona. “Did Jackie call off for tonight yet?”
Toby shook his head. “I haven’t heard from her. Do you need me to stay?”
“Shh.” A woman across the table leaned over and gave us both a look of disgust. “I’m trying to listen.”
“We’ll talk later.” Toby gave the shusher one of his winning smiles and left me alone.
Amy Newman, my best friend and South Cove’s receptionist, city planner, and meeting notetaker, giggled. Amy looked like she belonged in the central coastal community. Her short, blond hair sparkled against her always tanned face. If she’d been in a bikini and holding her board, she’d make a perfect beach promotional shot. Yes, my best friend was a surfer. But I didn’t hold that against her. Much.
The woman who had shushed us was one of the artists who had opened a studio last year on Main Street. I had no idea what her name was because this was the first meeting she’d attended. Art supports art, I guessed. I started making notes about what I needed to get done today just in case I needed to step in for the evening shift.
After a very hearty round of applause when Meredith finished, Darla Taylor took the podium. If Amy was the image of an athletic life, Darla was the “before” picture. Even after making a habit of working out with her boyfriend, Darla still was more fluff than muscle. She was friendly and welcoming, an attitude that served her well as the owner/manager of South Cove Winery. We were friends and I gave her a big smile to let her know I was listening. Well, at least to her.
“Good morning, South Cove. I’m so glad you’re here today. We’re finishing up the final touches on our St. Patrick’s Day event. No parade this year, but we’ll have Main Street blocked off for a street fair so we can bring our businesses out on Main Street. Literally.” She grinned as she continued. “What we need to talk about today is Easter. I know we’ve gone back and forth on this, but I’d still like to have a B2B-sponsored egg hunt the Saturday before. If you’re out of town, that’s fine, but remember this the next time we come asking for something.”
“Darla, where can we sign up to help with the egg hunt?” Amy raised her hand, asking the question before Darla could respond. “I love working with kids.”
“Of course you do,” I grumbled at my friend.
Amy grabbed my arm and lifted it in the air. “Jill volunteers to help as well.”
Darla took out three clipboards and passed them to the person sitting to her right. “Sounds perfect. I’m passing out sign-up sheets for the next three events. I’ve added a May Flowers Festival as well as a June wedding event where we’re bringing in some highly qualified wedding planners, florists, and caterers for your enjoyment. This event will be at the community center, and all the bed-and-breakfast owners are giving away a free weekend stay to bring in visitors.”
“That sounds wonderful.” Amy literally purred. “I know I’ll be spending all day at the event.”
I stared at my friend. “You already have your entire wedding planned. And the ceremony will be over by then anyway. You’re getting married the end of the month.”
“Don’t say that, you’ll jinx it.” Amy didn’t meet my gaze. “Plans change. Look at your aunt and Harrold. They were going to do a big wedding in the city and instead visited an Elvis impersonator. Besides, I don’t think Justin has picked out a honeymoon destination yet. If he’s not committed to something by then, I’m dragging him in that gym with me and making him sign up for something with the travel agent from Bakerstown.”
“Not the most cooperative way to start a marriage, but you do you.” I understood where my friend was coming from and I was pretty sure she wouldn’t actually do it. Or at least I hoped. It has been a long engagement.
Darla glanced around the room, watching to see who was signing up on what clipboard. “If there aren’t any questions, I’ll send out emails to the new committees and I’ll see all of you at the St. Patrick’s Day Street Fair.”
“Sounds fun.” The artist who’d shushed me gave Darla a big grin and started to stand.
“Jill, did you want to close the meeting?” Darla glanced at me because I ran the meetings for the City Council, but I waved her off. It was time to get back to my real job, running Coffee, Books, and More, the only coffee shop–bookstore in the area. Darla picked up the wooden gavel we used to start and end the meetings and cracked it on the podium. “Then we’re adjourned.”
As we moved table and chairs to get my dining room back in order, Evie Marshall, our newest barista and my new renter for the apartment above the shop came in the front door. Her green eyes scanned the room as she walked around the scattered tables. She carried Homer, her tan Pom. He and Emma, my golden retriever, had met a few weekends ago at a barbecue at my house. They’d become fast friends.
“Sorry to bring him in this way, Jill.” Evie stopped by where I’d been arranging a table. “I forgot to grab my keys when I went out and the back door locked on me.”