Chapter 3
Jeanie
“Scissors cut, but they also shape. Choose your cuts wisely.”
—Eloisa Hobby
Jeanie bobbled on her way up the gangplank of the Hobby Island Ferry.
“Mom, watch your step.” Luna reached for her arm.
“Oops, I’m so sorry.” Jeanie’s heart skipped.
“No need to apologize, just be careful, please. Falling overboard is not an option,” Luna said, but her admonishment was gentle and compassionate, not the scolding Jeanie deserved for her woolgathering.
“Hey.” Artie ran up to them. “There’s no cars on this ferry. How come?”
“It’s a passenger ferry.” Luna put her arm around her daughter’s waist, bringing her closer, until the three of them huddled at the railing.
Gathering her chick. Jeanie smiled. Luna was such a mother hen.
“But how do cars get to the island?” Artie bounced on the balls of her feet encased in Doc Martens moto boots. She wore cutoff blue jeans, which in Jeanie’s estimation were far too short, but she wouldn’t comment on her granddaughter’s attire. Times had changed, and she didn’t want to sound like an old fuddy-duddy.
“No cars allowed,” a female voice behind them said.
They turned in unison to see who’d spoken. A woman near Jeanie’s own age with a Jamie Lee Curtis pixie haircut and an effervescent smile. She strolled over to put an empty paper cup into the recycle bin.
The woman wore a silky azure blouse tucked into tailored white trousers. Her skin glowed with bronzer, and her lively blue eyes sparkled. A beaded necklace and matching earrings glittered when they caught the sunlight, accentuating her graceful neck and delicate features.
Her full lips curved upward in a warm, inviting smile and her unlined forehead seemed to belie her age, as though she were in her early fifties rather than in her midsixties like Jeanie, but the dark spots on her hands gave her away.
She was gorgeous and beside her, Jeanie felt like a dull brown wren in her pale pink, paisley-print maxi sundress and Birkenstocks.
“Apologies for butting in,” the woman said. “But heads up, there’s no cars on Hobby Island, just golf carts, scooters, and bikes. And there’s a lot of walking.” The woman extended her hand to Jeanie. “I’m Sharon, by the way. Sharon Rooney. It’s nice to meet you.”
“I’m Jeanie, and this is my daughter, Luna, and my granddaughter, Artemis. We call her Artie for short.”
“You’ve been to Hobby Island before?” Luna eyed Sharon.
“Yes, last year,” Sharon said. “Which one of you scored the golden ticket?”
Jeanie held up her hand. “Me.”
“So you’re the crafter.” Sharon’s friendliness drew Jeanie. “We’re going to be fast friends, Jeanie. I can tell already.”
Luna tensed. Jeanie’s daughter distrusted people who were too chummy-chummy. Then again, Luna distrusted everyone until they’d proven themselves over weeks, months, and years.
“What’s your craft?” Sharon asked.
“Quilting.”
“Oh, oh, me too! Are you entering the contest?”
“That’s what’s inside here.” Jeanie clutched her quilt tighter.
“Hmm. I don’t think that’s how it works.” Sharon shook her head. “But I could be wrong. Last year we sewed the quilt while we were on the island.”
“I can’t enter this?” Jeanie’s spirits nose-dived. She couldn’t sew an entire quilt in a few weeks. Not without her Singer sewing machine.
“Don’t listen to me.” Sharon waved a hand as if shooing off a fly. “I could be off base.”
The boat surged forward, leaving the Everly dock. Jeanie almost lost her balance. If Luna wasn’t standing close enough to grab her arm, she might have fallen.
“Here we go!” Artie hollered, jumping on the bottom rung of the railing, and leaning over. The wind whipped her long dark hair and billowed her loose-fitting top around her. She looked so free and brave it touched Jeanie’s heart.
“I’m the Queen of the World!” Artie flung her arms wide.
“Get down.” Luna snapped her fingers.
Artie tossed her head, ignoring her mother. Luna’s irritability was understandable, given her tough circumstances, but Artie was also struggling.
Jeanie touched Luna’s arm. “Loosen the reins a little?”
“Mom, she could fall off the ferry.”
“I know, it’s . . . don’t get mad at her, okay? She’s just so full of life.” Jeanie glanced over her shoulder at Sharon. “And we’re in public.”
“Oh yes, we should always consider the opinions of others.” Luna might be mad, but she heeded Jeanie’s advice, stepping closer to Artie and tugging her from the railing. “Come on, kiddo, get down.”
“So,” Sharon said to Jeanie. “This is Nanette . . .”
A busty redhead dressed in black leggings, a turquoise tunic, and black ballet flats, and who put Jeanie in mind of Blanche from The Golden Girls, wriggled her fingers. “Howdy!” she said in a throaty Texas drawl. “Nice to meetcha.”
“And this is Isabelle.” Sharon waved at a petite woman in a yellow boho romper with matching espadrilles. Isabelle looked a decade younger than Sharon and Nanette. Her smile was lopsided but genuine, quirking up on the left side, and her well-groomed eyebrows were thick and lush. “We three met on the island last summer and we’re so excited to be invited back.”
“I entered the jewelry-making contest last year.” Nanette jangled the numerous bracelets at her wrists. “I made these m’self. This year, I’m entering the quilting contest, but I’m a novice quilter so I have no aspirations of winning. It’s just fun to compete. Also, I’m eager to see the butterfly hatchery. I missed it last time.”
“Butterfly hatchery?” Artie asked.
“Oh yes. Didn’t you get the brochure? You should read the brochure,” Sharon said. “It’s got all the details about the island events.”
“We didn’t get a brochure.” Jeanie shook her head.
“Sure, you did. It came in the box with your golden ticket.”
“Did it? I’ll have to check when we get to our room,” Jeanie said.
“Oh no,” Sharon said. “If you don’t have the golden ticket in hand when we dock at Marshmallow Landing, the ferryman won’t allow you off the boat. Security is priority one at Hobby Island. So you better get it out now.”
“Thanks for the advice, Sharon. I sure am glad we ran into you ladies.” Jeanie dabbed perspiration from her forehead with her fingertips.
“We should go get your ticket.” Luna steered her away from the trio of women and over toward the luggage rack. When they were out of earshot, her daughter said, “You don’t have to make friends with every person you meet.”
“What do you mean? You don’t like Sharon?”
“I don’t know Sharon. That’s the point. The woman seems nosy to me. You don’t have to obey her.”
“No, no, you’re wrong. She’s just being helpful.” Jeanie set down her quilt, accepted the suitcase Luna passed to her, and squatted to open it. “She’s been to Hobby Island before, and she knows what she’s talking about. I think she just wants us to appreciate her knowledge, which I do.”
“Just curb your enthusiasm, okay?”
Jeanie searched the contents of the suitcase and found the bejeweled wooden box with the golden ticket inside and a glossy pamphlet. “See, she was right about the brochure.”
“Just don’t become insta-friends. No harm in taking your time.”
Luna was wary and kept up her guard. Jeanie didn’t know where her daughter had gotten that from. Both Jeanie and Jack were open and accepting . . .
Being open and accepting to any and everyone is why you’re in this pickle.
The thought blazed like a neon sign in her mind. A blistering heat that had nothing to do with the bright sunshine burning her cheeks.
“Mom! Gran! You can see the island from here! Come look. You gotta see this. The island is purple!” Artie waved them over.
Jeanie and Luna exchanged glances and smiled at each other. Jeanie zipped up the suitcase and tucked the box under her arm. Together, she and Luna moved toward the bow, where Sharon, Isabelle, and Nanette also stood.
“It’s magical.” Artie exhaled a happy squeal the way she had as a four-year-old when Jeanie and Jack accompanied Luna and her family to Disney World.
Indeed, the island lay straight ahead, and it was bathed in various shades of purple, from lavender to lilac to rich indigo.
“How is it so purple?” Luna marveled.
“The jacaranda trees.” Sharon gestured. “They grow over sixty feet tall, and they’re planted along the road leading to the village.”
As the ferry approached the beautiful island, Jeanie’s pulse quickened and her throat squeezed tight, as if she gobbled her food too fast and it wouldn’t go down.
“It’s gorgeous!” Artie clapped. “I love it. It’s like a fantasy.”
“Fantasy Island,” Jeanie murmured, thinking of the old TV show that had aired on Saturday nights when she was a teenager.
“You’re going to love it here,” Isabelle said. “After visiting last year, I changed so very much. I was fifty pounds heavier but something about Hobby Island helped me get a handle on my eating. I lost fifteen pounds in two months while I was here, and then when I went home, I just kept losing until I got to my goal weight. I struggled with my weight my entire life—emotional eating—but now, the battle is gone.”
“It’s true,” Sharon said. “And you look fabulous, by the way. I almost didn’t recognize you when you arrived at the ferry.”
“Thank you,” Isabelle said and tossed her head. “This time around, I’m hoping to kick my vape habit.”
“Good luck,” Nanette said. “I have heard tales of other miraculous things happening on Hobby Island.”
The six of them watched in silence as the ferry drew closer and for one shining moment, Jeanie forgot her problems and why she had come to Hobby Island. The sweet scent of jacaranda blooms reached her nose. The island smelled like tranquility. Jeanie closed her eyes for a second and took a deep breath, letting the fragrance fill her lungs. The island seemed as if it was putting on a show just for them.
Up ahead a large white wooden sign spelled out Marshmallow Landing in glossy red script. The ferryman collected their golden tickets and went back to driving the boat. As they neared, he blasted the ferry whistle, signaling their arrival.
The honking startled a flock of great white birds resting in the jacaranda trees. They launched into the air, their flight splitting open the purple canopy and showering lavender petals onto the deck of the ferry, painting a dazzling scene right before everyone’s eyes.
The ferryman, a grin crossing his weather-beaten face, tapped a button on his console. The harsh alarm subsided, leaving in its wake the natural chorus of the island, the whisper of the wind, the rhythm of the waves, the distant cry of the departing birds.
A lavender blanket covered the water around the boat. Artie and Luna reached out, faces upturned, to catch the falling petals, both laughing out loud in wonder.
Watching her daughter and granddaughter laughing together shifted something within Jeanie, a softening, an opening, a gentle welcoming of the unknown.
The island was within their reach. It sat quiet and deserted, but it pulsed with an enigmatic energy that whispered of the thrilling adventures that lay ahead. The mystery of Hobby Island beckoned them closer, and in its inviting silence, Jeanie found a radiant beacon of hope.
But then her cell phone dinged in her pocket, breaking the spell the island had woven over her. Blinking, she pulled out her phone and looked at the screen.
The text was from Julep Bank: Urgent! You must call now . . .
The rest of the text wouldn’t be visible until she opened the text messaging app, but Jeanie didn’t need to open it to know what the rest of the text said.
“What’s that about?” Luna asked, peering over Jeanie’s shoulder.
“Nothing. Robo text.” Feeling panicky, Jeanie jammed the phone into her pocket.
“Then why did you go pale?”
“Did I?” Jeanie pressed the back of her hand against her forehead. “It must be the heat.”
“It’s in the low seventies.”
“What’s with the third degree?” Jeanie heard edginess creep into her voice.
Oh dear, she didn’t want to cause a scene. She needed to chill out, or she’d give herself away. If she couldn’t come up with one hundred thousand dollars by the end of the next month, the bank would start foreclosure proceedings. She was reluctant to tell Luna they were on the verge of losing the house. Not after all her daughter had been through.
Jeanie was so embarrassed she’d gotten herself into this terrible fix.
No fool like an old fool, said Jack’s teasing voice in her head.
At the thought of her late husband, she pressed a knuckle against her eye. No more grieving. It had been three years since she lost him. Time to let go. But Jack had been part of her life since she was younger than Artie. He’d been her heart, her soul, her everything.
Her twin flame.
His death had left her so lonely she fell victim to an online sweetheart scam. Jeanie knew she needed to tell Luna the truth, but she couldn’t seem to force the words. There was still hope she could fix this situation without Luna ever needing to know. Once she got to the island, she would call the bank and beg for more time. And if she could just win the grand prize money, it would solve all her problems.
And if she couldn’t?
Jeanie shivered.
The idea of losing her home and selling all she owned churned her stomach. How many times had she put on garage sales and watched people paw through her cherished possessions and lowball her on the price? Three dozen at least. Well, she’d be doing it three dozen and one if she didn’t win this contest.
She was starting over from scratch, just like Luna, but unlike her daughter, this was her own foolish fault. She hugged herself hard, cast an eye to the bucolic blue sky, and whispered, “Please.”