The Legacy of Parkers Point: A Serenity Harbor Maine Novella, Starlight Grille, #1

By Delsora Lowe

Two lives, one legacy—the lure of Parkers Point

One runs from …

Inheriting his grandfather's estate on the rocky point in Serenity Harbor, Maine is the perfect escape from the biggest professional disaster of Grayson Mann's life. Will distance and space help Gray heal old family and professional wounds enough to open his heart to love?

One runs toward …

Lauralee Adler struggles to save the family art gallery as she watches her aunt succumb to Alzheimer's. Returning to the small coastal town is payment for the kindness that saved her life and soul. Now she's on a quest to find her father. Will this trip home help her learn to trust and finally convince her she can truly belong for the first time in her life?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Beach Plum Publishing
• Release date: Aug 24, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386168089

Book preview

The Legacy of Parkers Point

Starlight Grille Book 1

Two lives, one legacy—the lure of Parkers Point

One runs from …

Inheriting his grandfather’s estate on the rocky point in Serenity Harbor, Maine is the perfect escape from the biggest professional disaster of Grayson Mann’s life. Will distance and space help Gray heal old family and professional wounds enough to open his heart to love?

One runs toward …

Lauralee Adler struggles to save the family art gallery as she watches her aunt succumb to Alzheimer’s. Returning to the small coastal town is payment for the kindness that saved her life and soul. Now she’s on a quest to find her father. Will this trip home help her learn to trust and finally convince her she can truly belong for the first time in her life?

Dedication

To Muffy Wallace, who from the beginning had faith that I could write a book, lit a fire under me time and again to keep my spirits up throughout the journey, read my manuscripts, and offered honest advice. I thank you for your friendship!

Acknowledgments

To my Maine Romance Writers group who as cheerleaders and friends kept me sane these last thirteen years. To my critique partners and confidants, Luanna Nau, Judi Phillips, and Susan Vaughan for their never ending editing and support. To my editor Jessa Slade, whose sage advice and insightful questions helped me see this story in a new light. To Nina Pierce, who not only formatted this book, but also provided endless advice and encouragement. To Susan Vaughan, who painstakingly looked at every word, comma, apostrophe, and…the list is endless. Your contribution, priceless.

To the authors of the anthology, Welcome to Serenity Harbor, who provided me the venue to first showcase Gray and Lee’s story. Thanks to Maggie Robinson for the idea to put together an anthology, Terri Brisbin for the introduction and technical support, and the other authors, Teagan Oliver, Kat Henry Doran, Luanna Stewart, Michelle Libby, April Canavan, Rose Morris and Meg Kassel. Thanks for the encouragement, providing an incredible learning experience, and giving me the courage to write this story (Book One), and Books Two and Three to follow, in the Starlight Grille series. I hope my readers will enjoy their trip to Serenity Harbor and the Starlight Grille on Ocean Avenue.

Contents

About Parkers Point * Dedication  * Acknowledgements * Join Delsora’s Mailing List

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 * Epilogue *

Excerpt from Dance with Me (Starlight Grille series, Book 2) * Moonlighting (Starlight Grille series, Book3)

A Letter to My Readers * About the Author * Other books by Delsora Lowe * Copyright

Chapter 1

Grayson Mann wiped down the bar, his arm sweeping over the smooth black wood, to bring up the shine. He glanced toward the bank of windows knee-high to ceiling across the front of the intimate restaurant. Layer upon layer of sheer curtains on the bottom half gave the room a shimmery, under-water appearance in daylight and cocooned customers at night. The top half, festooned with white twinkle lights, cast sparkles of light during the day and at night mimicked starlight.

Dusk had long been his favorite time of the day. On an early fall Friday afternoon, it was his respite between the languid hush of late lunches, easing him into happy hour when locals’ laughter bounced off celery-colored walls. The quiet settled him, between the times when his thoughts wandered to places they shouldn’t and moving into the rote activity of bartender. Soon he’d slam out drinks while picking up shards of conversations piercing his brain with details of his customer’s lives he wanted little to do with.

The wide slab of wood running the length of the back end of the restaurant served as his personal protective force. Bartender against the world.

Unless she wandered in before he got too busy to pay attention. The one person who made him want to listen and talk and care. After only two weeks.

Gray heard the footsteps before he heard the deep baritone of his best friend. His not-by-birth brother, the man who’d saved his life in more ways than one.

Evenin’, bro.

Partner, you ready for tonight? Gray shelved bar glasses fresh from the dishwasher.

Probably like any other Friday night, I’d say.

Full moon.

Lordy—think the crazies will be about?

Sure of it. Maybe tone down the music—always seems to tame the nuts.

Sure thing. I’ll tickle out some slow, sweet melodies and soft jazz.

Gray tossed his wadded-up, damp bar rag in the air, caught it and slam-dunked it in the bucket beneath the bar. Score.

When you going to learn to play real ball like the big boys?

Maybe when you get your ass off your piano stool and teach me what you and your brothers never did when we were kids.

Ha. You had privilege. We had ball. Truth is, if we’d a known then what we know now, we’d a let you scrimmage.

Gray released a smile he usually held close to the chest. Throwing me a bone?

Hey, man, you always been taut as a wire. You’d a let us see your smile more often instead of strutting your privilege, we could’ve been tighter as kids.

Gray shrugged and let go of the sentiment. Sam had been harping on the same ol’, same ol’ for years. Fact was, he and Samuel Johnson a.k.a. Cool Piano Hands Luke had been tight from the second they’d met. You’re so full of bull—always have been. Now look at me—reduced to lofting rags into bins.

"At least you’re hitting your target now, boss."

"You want me to let go of privilege, stop calling me boss. You have equal stake in this place. Why you keep insisting—"

"’Cause it gets your goat, partner. Every. Time." Sam’s deep belly laugh resonated off the walls.

Gray’s grin widened. You’re the devil, you know. A devil he’d let be his wingman for the rest of his days.

What they all say. Sam lumbered up the three steps to the small stage set in the back corner near the far end of the bar. He sat at the ol’ grand the two had rescued from a dusty back corner of a barn. Above his head, yards and yards of sheer material draped and billowed underneath more twinkles, like wispy clouds on a starry night—or so Gray’s decorator had explained as she transformed the once utilitarian space.

Gray scanned his dream—a business he and Sam could call their own—and realized this place wouldn’t exist without the sweat-equity the two had invested, along with the generous guidance of many in his adopted town far from the big city.

Sam paused after warming up the keys.

You miss the city? Gray spoke into the silence.

Sam flashed a wide-open smile. Nah. Nice to get back to the bustle and bright lights every now and again. But nah.

Thank god Sam had seen fit to encourage Gray’s dream to hightail it out of New York City. And thank god Sam wanted to escape the relentless drudgery stardom had brought to his doorstep. They both breathed easier in this tiny town on the coast of Maine.

This was what Gray needed. What he still needed after everything that happened.

Lauralee Adler clapped the dust from her palms before she swiped the back of her hand across her cheek. The last four hours spent moving boxed paintings, rearranging framing and art supplies, and wiping down shelves sent a spasm up her back as she straightened.

Not what she’d expected when she’d answered her Aunt Mindi’s call for help. It had been a few weeks since she’d moved back to Maine, in the nick of time, and studied the books and business of running the Ocean’s End gallery. Her aunt had deteriorated fast. She’d covered up her illness until it was almost too late.

A full-blown shudder shot down her spine to join the cramp now lodged in her side. What a mess. Auntie Mindi. This place. Her life. And now her future. How the hell was she going to handle all this?

The hard, physical work of the last hours had done nothing to purge the worries brought on by the morning’s mail containing another pile of bills. But those she would ignore. For now.

No matter what, she wasn’t about to spiral into a pity party. Stripping off the charcoal apron, she strode through the narrow hallway, between closed storage cabinets, into the sun-lit gallery. A ball of orange fire hovered over the mountain, its rays sparkling off the dust motes she’d stirred up and arrowing streaks of setting sun to spotlight the paintings.

One more chore—feather dust the entire gallery.

Her stomach rumbled. Breakfast had been eons ago. So engrossed in putting the gallery to rights, and blocking tears from memories of good times with Aunt Mindi, she’d forgotten lunch. Half hour to closing. Nothing in the till to count. Why bother staying open?

With a weariness she’d tried to tamp down over the last month, she plodded toward the door and the coveted closed sign. A shadow crossed the threshold and the door