Slow Burn (Harper Landing #3)

Chapter 1

Dawn Maddox felt the Pacific Northwest mist on her skin and regretted every minute she’d spent blowing out her hair for this photo shoot. Instead of being silky smooth, her blond hair had sprung back into curls that brushed the tips of her bare shoulders. The calendar said July 10th, but that didn’t mean summery weather in Harper Landing, Washington. Cold air blew down from Alaska, and snow still capped the Olympic Mountains that loomed on the other side of Puget Sound. Dawn didn’t have a mirror handy, but she knew her mascara had run. The wet air made her feel like she was crying, even as she tried hard to smile for the camera.

“That’s great,” Melanie said. “Now put your hand on your hip, and tilt your chin to the right.” Melanie Knowles was Dawn’s best friend and a seasoned photographer who’d taken a career break when her son was little. They’d met at barre class at the Cascade Athletic Club and been close ever since.

“Are you sure it’s not too wet?” Dawn asked.

Melanie shook her head. “The light’s perfect, and your hair looks great. Take a step closer to Sierra.”

Dawn shivered in her sundress and fought the urge to cling to her daughter for warmth. Sierra was eleven years old and wore a matching dress—perhaps for the last time—which made this photo shoot extra special. Dawn knew that the expiration date loomed on many of the sweet traditions from her daughter’s childhood, including their annual mother-daughter photo on Harper Landing Beach, wearing identical outfits that Dawn had sewn herself. Sierra was charging into her tween years at full throttle. Sixth grade meant middle school. Half of Sierra’s friends already had cell phones, and she campaigned nonstop for Dawn’s permission to start a TikTok account.

“How are you doing, sweetie?” Dawn asked.

“Fine.” Sierra blew a puff of curly brown hair out of her eyes. Although tall like Dawn’s ex-husband, Mark St. James, Sierra shared her mother’s unruly locks. The color was the exact shade of brown that Dawn’s would be if she didn’t dye it blond.

Now thirty-five years old, Dawn had lightened her hair for over a decade and was unsure how many gray hairs she was covering up. Certainly, her divorce from Mark six years ago had added some to the mix, even though they had parted amicably. Starting her Etsy business and opening the Forgotten Hug on the corner of Main Street and Third had contributed some gray hairs too. The antique shop thrived, but success brought stress as well.

“Can I get some pictures without you in them?” Sierra asked.

Dawn winced and hugged her arms to keep warm. “Sure, you can.” She hopped across the sand to where Melanie stood in front of a driftwood log.

“I wasn’t trying to be mean,” Sierra said.

Dawn nodded. “I know.”

“I thought Dad might want one for his desk.”

“That’s a great idea.” Dawn flashed a thumbs-up.

“And it could be my profile picture for my TikTok account.”

“Nice try.” Dawn put her hand on her hip. “Won’t you want a different photo when you’re twelve?”

“You don’t have to show your face on TikTok. I mean, you can if you want.” Sierra’s words came out in a rush. “But some of my friends don’t show their face on there, and they still have lots of followers.”

“How many is a lot?” Dawn asked.

“I don’t know.” Sierra shrugged. “Two hundred?”

“Two hundred followers?” Melanie looked up from her camera. “How does a fifth grader know that many people?”

“Sixth grader.” Sierra scrunched up her nose and pouted. “I’m going into sixth grade .”

Melanie snapped a shot. “Hello, Miss Grumpy Face. That look’s adorable.”

“I’m not adorable.” Sierra folded her arms across her chest. “And I hate this stupid dress. I look like a baby.”

Dawn felt like her daughter had stabbed her with the sewing scissors. “You picked out the pattern,” she told her. “And the fabric.”

“I wanted to buy something from Old Navy, and you said no.” Sierra stuffed her hands into the on-seam pockets that Dawn had struggled so hard to make lie flat.

Dawn took a deep breath and sighed. Maybe none of this was worth it: the dresses, the horrible weather, the two hundred dollars she’d paid Melanie for her services. Dawn didn’t want a photo that memorialized drama. She had enough tween sass at home. She closed her eyes and tried to center herself. When she opened them again, she looked at the horizon and saw whitecaps on Puget Sound. Wind had whipped the normally still water into a frenzy. The ocean was like a tween. One moment, it was calm, and the next minute, it frothed. Dawn longed for the days when Sierra had attended preschool and a cookie plus an episode of Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood could solve anything.

Melanie cleared her throat. “Why don’t we call it a day and try again in my studio tomorrow? It’s really nice. The handyman put in so many lights that you’d never know it used to be a garden shed.”

“That could work,” Dawn said in a resigned tone.

“But we always take our pictures at the beach,” said Sierra. “It’s our favorite place.”

“That’s true.” Dawn shrugged. “But if we go to Melanie’s studio, you can wear whatever you want.”

Sierra twisted her bottom lip as she considered the offer. “The pictures wouldn’t match,” she said, referring to the photo collage on their refrigerator. “This was supposed to be the eleventh one.”

Dawn nodded. “That’s right, but we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

Sierra looked at Melanie. “Can we get a couple of good ones of my mom and me and still go to your studio another day?”

“Sure.” Melanie smiled. “Business isn’t exactly booming since I took four years off to be a stay-at-home mom.” She winked at Dawn. “But maybe orders will pick up if you write a glowing review for me on Yelp.”

“I’ll do that. I’ll also post in the Harper Landing Moms Facebook group while I’m at it,” said Dawn. “Hopefully, the admin doesn’t delete it.”

Melanie, who volunteered to administer the group, laughed. “I don’t think I will.” She pointed at some pilings next to the ferry dock. “Okay, you two, stand over there, and let’s try this again.”

Ten minutes later, Dawn’s cheeks hurt from smiling, but she felt confident that there would be many great pictures to choose from. She crossed her fingers and hoped the one with Sierra hugging her around her waist would turn out. Sierra had given her an extra squeeze after Melody stopped photographing.

“This was fun.” Sierra rested her head on Dawn’s shoulder. “Even though the weather sucked.”

“Bad weather won’t matter in the pictures.” Melody unzipped her camera bag and carefully put away her lenses.

Dawn looked around the sand for her purse. She’d made the quilted drawstring pouch in eighth grade, when her mom had taught her how to sew. The bright patchwork made it easy to spot, and she bent down to pick it up.

“Mom, what are those people doing?” Sierra asked.

Dawn straightened. “What people?”

“Over there.” Sierra gestured at the parking lot between the beach and the ferry dock. A small gathering of people in suits and business attire stood next to a few reporters and camera operators.

“I have no idea.” Dawn slung her purse over her shoulder. A whizzing sound made her jump and look up at the sky. “Are those drones?” She pointed at the black devices hovering over the shoreline.

Melody removed the lens from her bag and reattached it to her camera. “I think that’s the mayor,” she said as she stared through the viewfinder. “I also see Ben Wexler-Lowrey from the Seattle Times .”

“Huh.” Dawn put on her raincoat. “The article Ben wrote about the Forgotten Hug last fall brought in a ton of customers. I wonder if it’s a press conference.”

“Let’s go find out.” Sierra grabbed Dawn’s hand and pulled her up the beach. “Zip up your coat all the way so it won’t look like we’re matching.”

Dawn would have corrected Sierra for her bossy tone, but it had been so long since her daughter had willingly held her hand that she did as she was told. Besides, the cold demanded it. Dawn wished she’d brought her insulated raincoat instead of just the shell. She followed Sierra up the sand as best she could in her high-heeled sandals and felt grateful when they reached the sidewalk.

It was easier to spot faces in the crowd as they got closer. In addition to Ben, Dawn recognized two anchors from local new stations. The mayor, Eliza Jordan, stood at the front of the throng, flanked by the chief of police and a firefighter.

“There’s Mikaela,” said Sierra. “What’s she doing here?”

“Who’s Mikaela?”

“Mikaela Berg, from school. She was in my class last year. Her dad is next to her. He volunteered at the school carnival and at field day.”

Dawn shaded her eyes against the glare from the gleaming white clouds so she could see better and peered at the girl Sierra was looking at. The slim-figured Mikaela was wearing leggings and a fleece hoodie, and her two thick braids were golden blond. But it was Mikaela’s father that made Dawn stare. The firefighter wore a black dress uniform with red trim and a visored cap. Well over six feet tall, he towered over his daughter. They both shared the same golden hair color, but that was where the resemblance ended. Mikaela was small and frail looking. Her father was a wall of muscle. Dawn blinked. She really needed to volunteer more at school.

“What are they talking about?” Sierra asked.

Dawn had been so busy ogling Mikaela’s father that she hadn’t paid attention to the mayor’s speech. She was relieved when Melanie filled them in, and hoped her daughter didn’t notice what had distracted her.

“I think this is about the safety bridge to the marina.” Melanie snapped another picture. “I saw a mailer about it last week from Brittany Barrow’s campaign.”

“Brittany from barre class?” Dawn glanced at Melanie. “I haven’t seen her in ages.”

Dawn scanned the group again. Sure enough, Brittany from barre class stood right next to the mayor, wearing a fake smile that might have been molded out of plastic. Dawn didn’t like to judge women for their choices in hair color, but Brittany’s platinum locks made her black eyebrows appear freakish. The woman arched her back in a manner that thrust out her chest and waved to the crowd as if she were the queen of England.

“Brittany planted a dead rat in the Nuthatch Bakery last fall to get them in trouble with the health department,” Melanie whispered. “Did you know about that?”

“No, I didn’t,” said Dawn. “But I’m not surprised. She always struck me as a liar.”

“Shh!” Sierra held her finger to her lips. “I can’t hear.”

“Sorry.” Dawn bit her bottom lip and tried to focus.

“And now,” Mayor Jordan said, “I’m handing the microphone over to Brittany Barrow, the leader of the Harper Landing Committee for Public Safety, to explain why the Marina Bridge is essential.”

Brittany ripped the microphone out of the mayor’s hand and held it up to her painted red lips. “Jobs and money!” She made a kissy face at the audience. “When I join the city council, I’ll bring new opportunities to Harper Landing, like this one. That’s why a vote for me, Brittany Barrow, is a vote for?—”

Mayor Jordan yanked the microphone away from Brittany. She covered the mic with her hand, but it wasn’t enough to stop the crowd from hearing the reprimand she gave Brittany. “This isn’t a campaign speech.” The mayor wrinkled her forehead.

Brittany pouted for a moment before plastering on a fake smile and giving the mayor a death stare.

“Excuse me, Mayor Jordan,” Mikaela’s father said. “May I speak?”

“Certainly.” Mayor Jordan handed him the microphone.

“My name is Warren Berg, and I’m captain of Fire Station Two. The fourteen businesses in the Harper Landing Marina are in my care. My station is staffed with two firefighter paramedics in addition to myself, and we handle calls that cover the downtown core all the way to the port. We are also the designated first responders for the ferry.” His eyes scanned the crowd with an intent look that made everyone—Dawn included—pay attention. “The problem is that the train track separates the port district and the ferry dock from the rest of town. It used to be we saw eight or nine coal trains a day, plus the Sounder and Amtrak. But now those coal train numbers are climbing.” The captain clenched his jaw, and his expression became grim. “If one of those trains derailed, we’d have a disaster on our hands that would require an immediate response.”

“Because of the beach,” Sierra murmured. “Coal would pollute the beach.”

“If a train crashed, first responders wouldn’t be able to reach the ferry or the marina,” Captain Berg continued. “That means the Cascade Athletic Club, Custom Aeronautic Plastics, the yacht club, and ten other businesses would be cut off from aid. We wouldn’t be able to get to them at all.” He put his free hand on Mikaela’s shoulder. “My daughter has a life-threatening food allergy, and I know as both a parent and a firefighter that seconds count when you’re trying to save lives.” He looked at Mayor Jordon and nodded. “That’s why Harper Landing Firefighters support the Marina Bridge project. We need a way to bypass the train track and connect Main Street to the waterfront.”

“Well,” said Mayor Jordan, “Captain Berg has explained why this project is important to me and the people of Harper Landing. Are there any questions?”

Ben’s hand shot up first, but the mayor called on a TV reporter instead.

“How will you pay for the bridge?” the journalist asked.

“We’ve already received federal funding from the latest economic stimulus bill,” said Mayor Jordan. She pointed at Ben.

“Where would the bridge be built?” he asked.

Mayor Jordan looked over her shoulder at where Dawn and Sierra had just had their photos taken. “The bridge will begin on Second Avenue and end on Harper Landing Beach.”

“No!” Sierra shouted. Her voice was small but shrill sounding and immediately caught everyone’s attention. “You can’t do that!”

“Sierra, honey, hush,” said Dawn. “We’ll talk about this later when we get home.”

Sierra released Dawn’s hand and pulled away. “They’re going to destroy the beach.” She rushed up to the crowd and stood right next to the reporters. “What about the harbor seals? And the sea stars and the geoducks and the Dungeness crabs? There are tide pools all over Harbor Landing Beach that need protecting.”

Dawn knew that Sierra was right. She felt bad for trying to shush her earlier.

“People need protecting, too, princess,” Brittany said in a condescending tone. “Don’t talk about things you don’t understand.”

“My daughter understands just fine, thanks.” Dawn marched up and stood behind Sierra. “Our beach is part of what makes Cedar Grove special.” She felt everyone in the crowd looking at her, which made her uncomfortable, but she refused to let Sierra face them alone.

“We’re not going to ruin the beach,” Mayor Jordan said quickly. “We’re just building on it a little bit.”

“How can you build on the beach ‘a little bit’?” Ben made his fingers into quotes while holding up his phone to record her response.

The mayor’s cheeks turned pink. “We don’t have the artist’s renderings yet, but?—”

“I can help answer that question,” said a handsome man with salt-and-pepper hair. He wore an expensive-looking suit with an orange silk tie. “My name’s Will Gladstone, and I’m the property development consultant the city has hired to oversee this project.” He smiled, and for a moment, Dawn felt disarmed by his sparkling white teeth. “The Marina Bridge will be of the highest quality and aesthetically pleasing as well. The impact to Harper Landing Beach should be minimal. The current proposal incorporates four pilings that will form the base of the bridge, and the footprint will take up less than a third of the beach.”

“A third of the beach?” Sierra called out. “That’s horrible!”

Will shook his head dismissively. “A third of the beach is nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” Sierra said as the television camera operators turned towards her. “Any sixth grader could tell you that a third is a lot, and none of us want to give up that much of the beach.”

“That’s right!” Dawn nodded. “You can’t destroy the beach without public approval.”

“I don’t need public approval,” said the mayor. “The city council makes the final decision, not schoolchildren.”

“It’s children who will live with the consequences of your decisions for the next eighty years,” Dawn said.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Melanie snap her picture. In front of her, Ben moved his phone closer. But best of all, Sierra was looking up at her with pride. Her daughter’s admiration was a rare prize these days, and it made her bold.

“The problem isn’t that we don’t have a bridge.” Dawn projected her voice as far as it would go. “The issue is too many coal trains. They put our community at risk. What if one of them exploded?”

“Exactly,” Captain Berg said in his deep voice. “That’s why we need the bridge.”

“No.” Dawn pointed at the train tracks. “That’s why we need to fight the coal industry sending all those shipments to China. There’s no way we should allow their greed to destroy our beach.”

“Save the beach!” Sierra yelled. She linked her arm with her mother’s.

Melanie took their picture and then hooked her elbow around Dawn’s free arm. “Save the beach!” she called in a clear voice.

Dawn lifted her chin defiantly. She might regret this later, especially as a local business owner with a reputation to protect. But right now, she felt proud of doing the right thing, especially since she stood arm in arm with her daughter. “Save the beach!” she yelled, hoping her voice was loud enough for all of Harper Landing to hear.