Love lies and lavender, p.1
Love, Lies and Lavender, page 1
Love, Lies and Lavender
A Blueberry Point Romance Book 1
D.E. Malone
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, locales, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to real life events, places or people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or otherwise, except in the case for brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews, without written permission from the author and publisher.
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Love, Lies and Lavender
Copyright © 2020 D.E. Malone. All rights reserved.
ISBN (paperback) 978-1-951516-03-1
(ebook) 978-1-951516-04-8
Cover design by Blue Water Books
First Edition
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Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Acknowledgments
Also by D.E. Malone
About the Author
Chapter One
The ground seemed to sway underneath Hilary Larkin’s feet as she stepped through the gate in Duluth International Airport. She made her way to the main corridor, setting her sights on the Welcome to Minnesota! kiosk ahead. The flight had been awful. Flying was the worst on a good day.
Tugging her suitcase beside her, Hilary took a deep breath and immediately regretted it. The smell of diesel and fried foods from Big Jim’s BBQ across the way wasn’t the best combination for her already nauseous stomach. While she tried to get her bearings, the other passengers from her flight dispersed in all directions like a disturbed anthill.
Her phone dinged. She took it out of her pocket. The screen lit up with a message from her sister-in-law Jorie.
Missed the flight. I’ll send an update later. Sorry.
Hilary shook her head. Running late was such a Jorie thing, but it wasn’t her fault this time. Jorie’s father—Hilary’s father-in-law—came down with pneumonia last week and was hospitalized two days ago, tossing all plans in the air. Cal Larkin’s health took precedence over some conference. Hilary would make the best of it and cross her fingers Jorie could catch another flight as soon as possible.
She checked the overhead sign once again and headed down the long corridor. The flight had been on time despite the rough start. She had fifteen minutes to find her suitcase before the pick-up time listed on her itinerary. As she walked, her lightheadedness faded. She concentrated on the click of her boots on the tile floor and grumbled to herself about her dislike for airports. Ahead, the corridor intersected with the baggage claim area. She stopped to scan yet another overhead sign, this time noting the carousel numbers, until she found the one connected with her flight.
She set her shoulder bag at her feet and stuck her hands in her coat pockets to wait. A few dozen people were already there.
“Are you here for the farm conference?”
She’d been so busy stewing about being here alone, especially since Jorie signed her up for this, that she didn’t sense anyone nearby.
Hilary turned. The young woman who’d sat across the aisle from her on the flight from Grand Forks stood there. Her upbeat voice and friendly face were contagious. Hilary smiled back.
“Yes. First time in Minnesota too.” How did the woman know she was here for the conference? Then it dawned on her. Larkin Farms was embroidered across the back of her jacket.
“Where are you from?” the woman asked.
Hilary cleared her throat. “A town not too far from Boise called Redville.” Her voice cracked. She hadn’t done much talking since boarding the flight at six that morning.
“I grew up in the northern part of Minnesota but live in North Dakota now,” the woman said.
Hilary nodded. She wasn’t very good at the chitchat.
They stood in silence for a few minutes, watching the cavernous mouth with the black strips of rubber part as suitcases rolled toward them on the belt. Hilary watched for the blue length of satin ribbon she’d tied to her suitcase handle.
“Here’s mine.” The woman stopped the bag on the belt before heaving it over the edge and onto the floor. “I’ll wait for you.”
Relief eased the anxious knot in her stomach. Hilary wouldn’t have to wander through this strange airport alone, looking for the contact person.
“I’m Meg, by the way. Meg Willson.”
“Hilary Larkin. Nice to meet you.” Now that they faced one another, Hilary recognized the pin Meg wore on the lapel of her blazer right away. The white-and-gold ear of corn on a red background. The Gold Standard Seed decal. Her husband had sold their products. Hilary swallowed hard and looked away.
Meg went on. “My family raises sheep and a small herd of alpacas. My mother is a fiber artist. And Mom found out there’s a fiber artist at the conference too, so she’s over the moon about that.” Meg looked around. “She’s here somewhere. Must still be in the restroom.” She shrugged and leaned on the handle of her suitcase. “Anyway, we hosted a holiday open house in our refurbished barn. Huge turnout last November at the start of the Christmas season. So that got us thinking about expanding. You know, giving classes on spinning, weaving, hosting artist groups. Stuff like that.”
Hilary exhaled through her nose. While thankful for Meg’s company, she could do with a little less conversation. Her bag finally appeared on the belt, the blue ribbon a beacon of relief. She stepped forward to claim it, lugging its weight onto the floor. It landed with a thud.
Meg looked down at the suitcase. She giggled. “I have a tendency to overpack too. It’s a security thing. You know, bringing those familiar comforts to offset the stress of being somewhere new.”
The woman was trying to be helpful, but Hilary didn’t need the reminder that home was fifteen-hundred miles away. Her hand clutching the suitcase handle was moist. Jorie owed her big.
Meg waved to someone across the room. “There’s my mom. You’ll have to meet her.”
Meg’s mother, Yandi, lumbered over a few seconds later, dragging a black orthopedic boot. She shook Hilary’s hand with a crushingly enthusiastic grip. The woman was taller than her willowy daughter. Hilary flexed her hand at her side, feeling the bones settle back into their rightful places.
“I think we need to make our way to the front entrance. We’re looking for someone with a ‘Small Farms Conference/BPL’ sign,” said Meg, looking at the paper she’d pulled from her coat pocket.
“What’s BPL?” asked Yandi.
“Blueberry Point Lodge. The place that’s hosting the conference,” Hilary offered. The only bright spot of this conference she looked forward to so far was staying in the historic lodge. The place boasted gourmet meals, premium mattresses, and a short walk off the back patio to Lake Superior. If she could pretend it was a vacation instead of work, she’d be set.
“Oh, that’s right. The insane hour I got up this morning finally caught up to me,” Yandi said, palming her forehead. She shooed them to get going. “Don’t let me hold you back. This bum foot isn’t going to slow me down too much.”
Hilary hung back while the two women talked about how clean the airport seemed and marveled at the golden croton plants in gigantic earthen pots. Hilary felt like a third wheel. The Invisible Woman. The Irritated, Invisible Woman, that was.
Stop feeling sorry for yourself. You could have turned Jorie down. It’s your own fault.
Following the signs, the three of them walked from baggage claim toward the front entrance. The wall of glass before them revealed a wide blue sky, a stark contrast to the dreary gray day Hilary left behind in Idaho.
“Oh, I think I see our contact person,” said Yandi.
Meg waved. “Yep, that’s him.”
Hilary’s phone dinged again.
Earliest I can catch the next flight is Wednesday. Worst week already and it’s only Sunday. Ugh.
Her heart sank. That was half the conference. If she felt out of her element at signing up for a small farms conference before, this spelled doom for her morale. Her sister-in-law was Miss Owyhee County Ag Queen in high school. Born into the farm life, Jorie lived and breathed it. Hilary, on the other hand, was voted Most Likely to Live in a High Rise. This was Jorie’s thing, not hers.
Hilary craned her neck to see over the two tall women in front of her to no avail and looked again at her phone to read the rest of Jorie’s message. But Meg stopped and her suitcase almost tripped Hilary.
“I’m kind of dangerous with this thing. Sorry,” Meg said, swinging the suitcase to her side. She stepped aside for Hilary.
As Hilary struggled to correct the bag handle th
She slowed.
He looked so familiar. The mop of russet hair, tousled like he’d tumbled out of bed moments ago, threw her off. Yes, of course. The hair. Its color reminded her of Will’s, though it was a few shades lighter. She stared a little too hard for a little too long and the man did a double take, probably trying to gauge her.
As much as she wanted to look away, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. His soulful eyes studied her and widened when she gave him a quick smile. The shadow of a not-quite beard trailed along his jaw, thicker in spots than others. Even from the distance, she noted his jeans were worn at the knees, yet his plaid shirt still held the yellow size sticker over his left pocket. She smiled again despite her sour mood.
Another message from Jorie appeared.
Not sure it’s worth me coming if I’m missing half the conference.
Hilary sighed. What else could go wrong today? First, her no-show sister-in-law abandons her at a conference Hilary didn’t want to come to in the first place, and now Will’s doppelgänger was here to meet her in the terminal?
This was a fantastic start to her week away from home.
Chapter Two
Dane Porter wheeled into the nearest empty spot in the short-term parking lot and unbuckled his belt. He jumped out, clicked the lock near the door handle, then noticed the ignition sensor yelling at him to pull the keys out. That would have been bad.
Of course he was late. The Stetmans trusted him to pick up a few of the last-minute arrivals for the Small Farms and Sustainability Conference, even loaned him their car, and he was late.
Judging by the parking lot, the airport was busy. He hurried through the rows, almost breaking into a run before he realized he forgot the sign. The conference people would never find him with it still in the backseat.
Get it together, Dane.
He’d been rehearsing his keynote speech for tomorrow morning on the drive from Hendricks. Encouraging words, anecdotes of farm life, and the pitfalls of being a small business owner filled his head. The speech was all over the place. It didn’t feel cohesive. He’d have to work on it tonight when he was back in his room at Blueberry Point Lodge.
Inside the airport, a light-filled space with soaring glass walls and ceilings, he stopped. Somewhere four people probably wondered if they were stranded here indefinitely. He should have been here a half hour ago. He looked around for a place to stand out of the way of the crowd streaming past him and found a spot near an empty kiosk. Leaning against the kiosk, Dane caught sight of himself in a mirrored pillar nearby. His hair looked like the spiky wet coat of Poe after the dog took a swim in the pond and shook off excess water. Dane smoothed it with a hurried hand and looked around.
They spotted him first. Two very tall women waved to him in unison. One was a smilier, slimmer version of the other woman, obviously a mother-daughter team. They carried on an animated conversation together as they approached Dane, gesturing wildly with their free hands, pulling wheeled suitcases with the others.
The older woman bent forward to peer at his cardboard sign, sounding out the name in exaggerated syllables. “S-mall F-arms Con-fer-ence. Nice to meet you, Small Farms Conference,” she said. Her daughter watched her with a mixture of amusement and embarrassment.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” Dane said. “There’s no excuse. Darcy and Sean Stetman are helping acclimate the other guests back in Hendricks. They asked me to make a run here.”
The younger woman waved him off and set the bag she held on top of her suitcase. “Not a biggie. I’m Meg. This is my mother, Yandi.”
He still held the sign across his chest like a goon and dropped it to his side. “Do you need help with your bags?”
Yandi stood stooped over the handle of her suitcase, resting. It was then that Dane noticed the woman behind them.
The first thought that flashed through his mind was that she looked really irritated. The skin between two finely arched brows was pinched. She almost looked like she sported a pretty intense migraine with the way she kept pressing on her temple with two fingers. But peeved expressions aside, she was gorgeous. Her eyes were the color of the pond back home when it froze over and the sky above glinted off its cold surface. Like blue-gray ice. They almost overwhelmed her face and certainly her nose, which was small and pinched. She scanned her surroundings—the check-in desk, the replica biplane suspended from the ceiling, the family of four with a screaming toddler hurrying past them on their way to the parking lot. And then her gaze rested on him.
His heart nearly stopped. If it weren’t for the commotion of the busy airport around him, he might have fallen into the deep well of those eyes. They simultaneously made him grow cold with gooseflesh and heated his face until he felt his hair had surely caught fire. Something about her reminded him of the lavender fields back home too.
She blinked as if she’d just noticed him.
“Hi there.” His voice came out hoarse, uneven. Dane cleared his throat and tried again. “I’m Dane.” He doubted she’d heard him the first time.
“Hilary Larkin.” She smiled crookedly, but it disappeared as fast as it materialized when her bag slipped and she jerked to catch it. She groaned impatiently, hitching it onto her shoulder again.
“Can I carry that for you?”
“No, thanks,” she said curtly, looking away.
Dane mentally shook himself. If she was upset about waiting, he didn’t blame her. Being late wasn’t a good first impression.
“We should be getting back,” he said to the group. "There’s a full day planned with only a half day left.”
“Fine by me,” Yandi said. “I’ve been itching for this conference all winter.”
“My sister-in-law didn’t make it after all.”
He looked back at Hilary. Her voice was so soft he was surprised he caught the words. It registered then that there were only three of them. He’d been so taken aback by her that he hadn’t noticed that rather important detail. If he got through this week without Darcy chewing him out for not being on top of his game, it’d be miraculous.
“What happened?” he asked as the four of them exited the terminal. She walked behind him so he slowed to wait for her to catch up.
“Something came up back home.” She shrugged. The breeze ruffled her chestnut hair, sending a strand across her lips. She brushed it away, but it floated across her face again.
Dane waited for her to elaborate, but she didn’t add anything. So she’s not into oversharing. Fine. Neither was he. Besides, he didn’t trust his voice not to crack again. It was a two-hour trip back to Hendricks. There was plenty of time to regain his composure. He cringed inwardly at the thought. Why was his composure an issue anyway?
He loaded suitcases into the back of the SUV, and they were on the road in no time. Dane found a station playing easy rock and turned the volume down. Meg and Yandi were in the backseat, talking over one another in their excitement. Next to him, Hilary sat quietly.
The suburban landscape soon gave way to a wide-open stretch of highway with Lake Superior on their right, glistening in the late-morning sun. He’d like living near the Big Lake if his life had taken another direction. He felt a sense of wildness looking at it now, like he was without constraints. Free. But his life back on the farm in Clove was pretty idyllic. He was his own boss now that his parents were almost fully retired, and the business had grown a thousandfold from when Mom started growing lavender in the garden to sell at the farmer’s market twenty years ago.
Dane glanced in the rearview mirror. Meg and Yandi had their heads together, looking down.
