Windward Hearts (Magnolia Shore #6)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

Hope Landers put her hands to her lower back and stretched out her spine, feeling the good kind of ache that came from a busy night at Sharp’s Fish Filet, the high-end fish restaurant in Boston where Hope worked as a waiter.

A lot of people thought that waiting tables was a bad job to have, and Hope supposed that any job could turn sour with a bad environment or unkind teammates.

But Hope had worked at Sharp’s for years now, and there was very low staff turnover.

The owners had always treated the people who worked there well, and that generosity was obvious in the restaurant’s smooth processes which, in turn, led to its enormous success.

And that success helped everyone, Hope thought with pleasure as she counted out her tips for the evening. She’d had a pretty good turnout, especially for a weeknight. Then again, Sharp’s was usually booked up for at least a few weeks in advance.

Not for the first time, Hope mused that she couldn’t think of why anyone would ever want to work anywhere that wasn’t here.

Apparently, Fate heard her talking…

“Hey, Hope, you’re still here.” Her boss, Melissa, flagged Hope down on her way to clock out in the back of the restaurant. “Can you come in here for a minute?”

“Of course!” Hope pivoted, then took the seat across from Melissa’s desk. Oof. Sometimes, when she got to the end of a busy shift, her body tried to remind her of all the effort she’d gone through all at once. Getting back up from this comfortable chair was going to be harder than it looked.

“What’s up?” Hope asked cheerfully, only to feel her heart stutter in concern when she saw the grim look on Melissa’s kind face.

“There’s not an easy way to say this,” she said, folding her wrinkled hands in front of her.

Melissa had been running this restaurant since long before it was normal for women to hold such prestigious positions.

She had spent years being told that her gender, not to mention her sweet attitude, would stop her from ever being a success, but she’d been proving her naysayers wrong for decades.

“The restaurant is closing,” she said bluntly, although not without compassion in her tone.

“I… what?” Hope shook her head, like something was wrong with her hearing. It had to be, right? Melissa couldn’t be saying what Hope thought she was saying, could she?

“I’m sorry, honey,” Melissa said kindly.

“I’m telling everyone this week, but I’m starting with my longest-term employees first.” Hope had a flash of realization over why Miguel, the sommelier who had been there for two decades, had seemed so solemn this week.

He was one of the few people who had been here longer than Hope.

“Wow,” Hope said, still feeling a bit numb with the shock. “But I don’t understand. We’re booked every night. We’re doing great. We couldn’t even take more customers if we wanted to!”

Some faint optimism inside her flickered and vanished when Melissa immediately shook her head.

“It’s not about the money,” she said. “It’s Stan.

” Melissa’s husband of about forty years.

“He’s okay for now,” she added, holding up a hand to forestall Hope’s concerned questions.

“But his doctors are recommending that he move away from the pollution of the city. And me… well, I’m ready to retire, sweetie. I’m old.”

“You are not,” Hope said in reflexive protest. Melissa was one of the most vibrant people she knew.

“You’re a real sweet talker, Hope Landers,” Melissa said with an affectionate smile. “But it’s time. I’m looking forward to getting a big old house in the country. Getting some chickens, maybe. And then you’ll find me and Stan, putting our feet up.”

She sounded wistful just talking about it, and even though Hope was still reeling from this news, she found that she couldn’t begrudge her boss and friend in the least.

“Well,” she said, leaning back in the chair, feeling a pang as it occurred to her that this might be one of the last times she ever sat in this office. “That’s—oh, I’m happy for you guys, but wow.”

“I think it is going to be a good change,” Melissa said, her tone as dreamy as Hope had ever heard it.

Hope tried to hold onto that dreaminess as Melissa explained more of the practical details.

Everyone would have about two more weeks’ employment, and then the restaurant would be sold.

Given that Stan would benefit from the clean air of the countryside, Melissa was eager to move herself and her husband as quickly as possible.

Hope understood it all. She really did. But even so, she barely registered the walk home from the restaurant, nor the four-flight hike to her apartment, something that normally wore upon her heavily after a long night on her feet.

But tonight, it was like she blinked and found herself standing in her own living room.

She glanced at her kitchen, feeling almost as though she’d never seen it before, despite having lived here for seven years.

She wasn’t hungry, which was also unusual after a night working around the delicious smells that always came out of Sharp’s kitchen.

Instead, she just poured herself a glass of wine and sat on the edge of her couch, wondering what in the world she was going to do now.

Since no answers to that question were forthcoming, Hope turned to the pile of mail she’d been ignoring in search of a distraction. There was the usual stack of advertisements, a paper version of her water bill that she got every month even though she paid online, and… oh!

A faint smile crossed her face as she put down her wine glass so that she could open a letter from her grandmother, Miriam, whom Hope had always called Mimi, a name that had arisen from Hope’s childhood inability to pronounce “Grandma” or “Miriam.” Inside was a handwritten note and an old photograph, which showed Hope, looking about three years old with a fuzzy corona of dirty blonde curls that had darkened to chestnut brown as she’d aged, standing with her late grandfather, Harold.

She smiled as she traced a fingertip over her grandfather’s face as he beamed at the camera. He was holding a toy fishing rod and plastic fish in the classic pose, his smile full of as much pride as it would have been if this were a prize catch.

Hello beloved, her grandmother wrote.

Dropping you a line to show you this photo of you and Grandpa Harry that I found when cleaning out the attic. Going through the mess accumulated over decades is quite the project, but I’ve come up with more than a few treasures to keep me going on the hunt…

Hope read the remainder of the chatty note, which informed her of all the treasures her grandmother had found and briefly updated her on Miriam’s social life in her small town of Magnolia Shore, Massachusetts, which largely revolved around a book club.

But Hope found herself less attentive to the content of the letter than she was to the spidery handwriting. It was shakier than usual, and seemed weaker. It made her worry about Miriam, who wasn’t old, per se, but who wasn’t quite as young as she had once been either.

Love remains in the air in Magnolia Shore, Miriam wrote, which of course pleases my little matchmaker’s heart.

Hope grinned. Her grandmother did love love, and was always trying to make matches for her friends, whom she all wanted to be just as happy as Miriam had been with Grandpa Harry.

Something is in the air, Miriam went on, and I think that we shall see another happy couple around here soon… though we’re running out of single members in the book club!

Hope chuckled to herself and put the letter aside, after sparing one more fond glance for the photograph, which she planned to frame and hang.

She loved these little missives from her grandmother, even if they did make her feel a pang for a life that was a little calmer and more peaceful than her fast-paced city life.

But that was a problem for another day, she reminded herself as she tipped back the last sip of her wine. It was late; restaurant hours went long into the night. Tomorrow would come all too soon, and her troubles would remain.

As she tucked herself into bed, however, Hope couldn’t help looking around this home she had built for herself almost by accident.

She hadn’t really planned to stay at Sharp’s for so long, although she had no regrets.

She also thought that she would live in this apartment for only a short period of time, but those years had just kept coming.

She hadn’t thought that it was time for a change, but change had come for her anyway.

Now all she had to do was figure out what she planned to do with… with everything in her life.