Legend of Finch Landing: The Wager

By Cash Sullivan

Sophie Boone lives a quiet life in rural Hanover, New Hampshire. Along with her family, she works hard to run Finch Landing, a local Bed and Breakfast that has been a success for over 40 years. After a terrible turn of her grandmothers health, Sophie finds herself taking on more responsibility than she had expected and is only able to pursue her Dartmouth education in small doses. In a series of serendipitous events, Sophie finds herself face-to-face with Stacey McKinney, the epitome of college jock and successful lawyer in the making. Despite her hardest efforts to stay away from him, Sophie finds herself swept away by a boy who is learning to become a man and finding out what it truly means to love through that process. Follow along as Sophie and Stacey find their way in life despite tragedy, miscalculation and heartbreak and they learn that family can stretch far past bloodlines to include those who truly care.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Mar 1, 2013
• ISBN: 9781481722803

Cash Sullivan

A native to New England, Cash Sullivan spent most of her childhood in rural Vermont. Through her life experiences there as well as her love for fiction and her unique view of society, she has been able to create a vivid illustration of life in the Hanover area. The Wager, the first in the Legend of Finch Landing series, is just the beginning of many tails of love and life in the Boone family. Cash Sullivan now lives with her family in the mountains of Western North Carolina and works in law enforcement.

Book preview

Chapter One

February 2012

Hanover, New Hampshire

She sat at the table closest to the window; her winter hat still secured loosely over a mess of black locks, her scarf still lightly wrapped about her throat. She had shed the 20 year-old pea coat that her father had passed on to her from his two and a half decades in the Navy. But she only did this because she had decided to wear the wool sweater that she had laid out the night before. After nearly a dozen different outfits, she finally resorted to the first one – fitted jeans, her favorite worn leather riding boots and a cowl neck wool wrap-around that hid her figure but made her feel safe and cozy. The sunlight shone through the café window, a deception to the below freezing temperatures that had been ravaging the Upper Valley for the past two weeks. Sophie sipped at her Chai tea and smiled to herself. This is why she both loved and hated New England.

Setting down the mug, she picked up a piece of her cinnamon raisin bagel and nibbled on the corner. This was heaven… and for her, heaven only came on Fridays. Every other day was hot chamomile tea and yogurt. The bell above the door jingled as she set down her indulgence. Three college boys piled in around one another, shivering and laughing to themselves. All of their faces were red from the cold and wind as they stood huddled together until the hostess seated them.

Sophie readjusted her reading glasses and settled back into her book. It was not as interesting as her father had led her to believe but this month was his choice and he had decided on a civil war-themed fictional thriller. Sophie’s father, Charles Harris Boone, had prided himself on knowing every possible thing there was to know about any and every war that had come before those he himself had fought in. The ones he was involved with, Charles chose not to discuss, and Sophie respected that. Since she was in middle school and her father was off on deployment, he had made an agreement with his only daughter to find a way to stay connected. He found that way through books. So every month since Sophie had turned 11 years old, she and her father had taken turns picking a book, and they would read and discuss it after both had finished. Most of her friends thought the idea corny and were appalled at the idea of having to do homework for their parents now that they were all grown. But Sophie, now 23, loved the unique pastime that they shared. She refocused and continued reading.

The college boys were seated on the other side of the café, which was only about 30 feet from Sophie’s table. She heard them snickering to themselves and listened a little more closely when she saw out of the corner of her eye, one of them point in her direction. There were only a few other people in the café, and none of them were anywhere close to Sophie’s table. A little uncomfortable by the unwanted attention, she squirmed in her seat and started to re-read the page she had just finished. She heard chair legs scratch the floor and footsteps that followed but Sophie refused to look up. Moments later, the biggest of the three boys slid into the chair opposite of her.

He was handsome with a large chin and perfect bone structure. Frighteningly green eyes gazed at her from his flawless face. His hair, though cut very short, was nearly as black as hers. His skin was the perfect combination of olive and ruddiness from the cold that made him appear almost god-like. Gingerly, Sophie closed her book and laid it on the table. She peered over at the table where the two other boys were still sitting and watching intently.

Hi, I’m Stacey. The boy in front of her leaned forward, his arms crossed in front of his chest. He smiled, all charm. Who could ever say no to that smile, to those eyes?

Sophie smiled back, Hi, Stacey. She picked her book back up and flipped through until she found the page she had already read three times.

A little phased at the blow off, and clearly trying to appease an amused audience, Stacey laid one large finger on the top of the book and gently pushed on it until it no longer hampered his view of Sophie. Are you going to tell me your name?

Sophie appeared to ponder over that and then smiled sheepishly and shook her head no.

Stacey’s eyebrow rose, and he was unsure of whether to be amused by the challenge or offended that his oozing charm had not swayed such a plain-Jane so easily. Either way, he continued on. So my friends and I were mulling over some philosophy stuff and we can’t seem to agree on something. I was hoping you could enlighten me a little.

She looked at him blankly and waited. A little uncomfortable at how much more difficult this was then he expected, Stacey scratched the back of his head and leaned back in the chair. Do you believe that someone can fall in love at first sight?

She laughed at him. His eyebrows furrowed and he took a quick sidelong glance at his friends cracking up at their table. Sophie stopped laughing and looked at him soberly. No, I don’t.

Stacey opened his mouth to speak but before he could, she spoke up again. There’s no need for you to be coy about what you came for. I was enjoying my book before you interrupted, so we can settle this quickly so I can get back to my reading. Her voice was almost a whisper as she leaned in to speak to him.

Sliding the cocktail napkin out from under her mug, she dug through her bag until she located a pen. Clicking it playfully, she began writing a phone number down on the napkin. As she wrote, she caught Stacey nodding to his friends and laughed a little, shaking her head. She slid the napkin over to him. Here ya go.

He read the flowery cursive aloud, Genevieve: 802-555-4234. Feeling a little victorious, he looked at Sophie and smiled. Genevieve is a beautiful name.

Yes, it is. Genevieve is my favorite name. However, it is not my name, nor is that my number. But seeing as you came over here for one of three things, she tapped the paper as she spoke, I figured I could oblige you on at least two of them. Sophie smiled and then leaned back in her chair.

Confused, Stacey looked at the napkin and then back at Sophie. You gave me someone else’s name and number?

Sort of. She slipped her glasses off and laid them next to her book. "The name, I borrowed from my grandmother - God love her. I don’t think she will mind. The number - I just made up. It may be not even be in service, or it could be the burger joint two doors down. Or it could be some mysterious girl who never leaves the house without make-up, looks like a Playboy centerfold and believes in love at first sight, and then this whole meeting would be very serendipitous for you, now wouldn’t it?" Sophie could tell her big words confused the poor boy, but it served him right.

I’m not going to even pretend to understand what you just said, but what’s all this ‘you came over here for three things’ stuff? He was getting irritated and that made her smile spread a little further than normal.

She sat forward again and motioned with her index finger for him to lean in as if what she were about to say was some sort of state secret. "You did in fact come over here for two of three things. You made a wager with your friends that you could win a stranger over with your good looks and incredibly appealing charm. You wanted to get my name and my number – two things. Possibly you chose me because you were sure you could get them both. Or possibly, you were genuinely interested in getting to know me – which I am 100% sure is not the case based on the conversation you and your friends had prior to you swaggering up to my table. I may not be the most beautiful girl in the world Stacey, but I have impeccable hearing and I am smart enough to see when I am getting played. You are a very attractive guy – perfect features, clean-cut, dressed well, gorgeous eyes, a mouth to die for and a build that would make a Greek god jealous. However appealing that external beauty is though, your complete lack of modesty, the overwhelming presence of self-love you have and the simple fact that you think you can have whatever or whomever you want makes all of those other things very unattractive." She took a breath and tilted her head as she watched a flurry of emotions come and go on Stacey’s face.

Before he could respond, she held up a finger and took a sip of her coffee. So to answer your first question in more detail, no I do not believe in love at first sight, and you are a perfect example of why that is so impossible. You look perfect. Any woman with eyes in her head would take one glance at you and salivate. But your character… that cannot be seen or known with a single look. You pass people every day of your life, over and over again and don’t even notice them. We all do it. The maintenance guy in the home economics building, the mailman who delivers every day here at lunchtime, the woman who walks six blocks every Thursday to the Price Chopper simply so she can get the senior citizen discount, or the girl - that very plain looking girl who sits in the back of Psych 400 class.

Stacey’s eyes widened with understanding as he realized that she may be referring to herself. Did they have a class together and he had never noticed her, never spoken to her?

Sophie saw the understanding in his eyes and with comfortable ease, held up her finger again, this time, lightly touching it to Stacey’s lips to prevent him from speaking up. I’m not finished. You see these people every day. We all have people in our lives like that, we just get so caught up in ourselves that we don’t look around and notice the little people. But then one day, maybe you bump into the little old lady who’s heading to get her discount. She’s a little hunched over, always has a plastic rain bonnet on and wears only long over-sized skirt-suits and Easy Spirit lace-ups. She’s wrinkled in the face and her hair has a purple hue to it because she has a bad dye job. She sighed and continued on.

But when you talk to her, you realize she has the kindest voice – a voice you have never heard before. The kind of voice that makes you feel better about life, and you can’t help but smile. And even though her skin is wrinkled from age and life’s wear, when she touches your hand, it’s the softest skin you have ever felt. When she looks at you, her eyes are such a light gray blue, your spirit warms because you can see a million moments of life and love and loss in those eyes, and she’s still smiling after it all. And when you finish talking to her, you want to scoop her up and squeeze her; you want to carry her all the way to the grocery store yourself, you want to make her life easier. You want to help her in any way, but mostly, you want to see her again, because seeing her reminds you of the little bit of goodness left in the world. At that moment, you can love. You haven’t just seen a person and moved on. You have stopped looking at yourself and you have experienced another for who they are, and a little piece of you is a better person for that. I guess because the moment that happens, you have truly seen that person, then maybe there is such a thing as love at first sight. But that’s a different kind of sight and a different kind of love than you meant… and probably than you have experienced.

"One day though, I think you will know what that all means. Maybe you will go back to your table and laugh this all off with your friends. That’s okay. Because I know that there will be a day - maybe a week from now, maybe a month or a year, maybe a decade from now, when you will be lying in bed staring up at the cracks in your ceiling, alone – even if you’re not really alone. You’ll remember this moment. You will remember me and the little old lady. You will think of all the people you have lost out on loving because you have overlooked them, and you’ll realize that there are people that you do love, because this maybe woke up a little part of you that wants true love."

She had gone deeper than even Sophie expected. Leaning back, she broke eye contact with Stacey and looked down at the napkin. Either way, you have a name and a number on that napkin so you can win your bet and let your friends treat you to lunch. So now you get what you want, I have said my piece and can get back to my book – everybody wins. Sophie laid a hand over Stacey’s and gave it a little squeeze.

He looked down at the paper and realized there was nothing at all he could say. A little dazed, he stood up from his seat, Thanks uh… whatever your name is. He scrunched the napkin up and stuffed it into the pocket of his Levi’s then turned and walked away. He knew better than to look back, and he was a little ashamed that a total stranger had called him out so easily. But mostly, he was shocked. Sliding into the table with his friends, he tossed the napkin onto the table and sat silently through the meal. Minutes that felt like hours passed as Stacey watched from the corner of his eye, where she sat continuing to read as if they had never even come in. When they had finished their pizza and sodas, Stacey’s friends went to the front to pay. He stayed back to toss a couple bills on the table for a tip.

He wasn’t sure why, but Stacey wanted to speak to the girl again. Digging his hands into his pockets, he walked over to where she sat – nose still in her book and cleared his throat. She didn’t move at all but her eyes went from the page to his face. They were deep blue, a detail he had not noticed earlier.

Um thanks again for that. I left a big tip. He nodded at his table.

Sophie smirked a little and then shook her head, See, you’re already becoming a better person. She winked and then went back to her book.

Well, have a good day. Sorry I never noticed you in class. He turned to walk away and heard her over his shoulder.

Have a good day, Stacey. And no worries, we don’t have any classes together. He stopped in his tracks, confused and again speechless, but continued on when his friends called to him from the door.

What a weird experience, he thought to himself. A simple girl, Genevieve’s granddaughter, with a mouthful of put-me-in-my-place. Completely out of his element, Stacey wasn’t sure whether the whole thing made for a better day or a worse.

Chapter 2

March 2012

The weather man had predicted sunny skies and once more, below freezing temperatures. Instead, Sophie walked out of her apartment to find freezing rain and even colder temperatures than she thought possible. That meant one thing to her – less business. Since June of last year, she had been helping to manage the Finch Landing Bed and Breakfast on the outskirts of Hanover. Her family had started the business some 48 years earlier when her grandparents, Jacob and Genevieve Boone, had moved to New Hampshire to start a new life together. Her father had been raised in the bed and breakfast along with his seven other brothers and sisters and up until recently, the rest of the family had worked the business end of things.

In the fall of 2002, Grandpa Jacob had passed unexpectedly from a brain aneurysm, leaving Genevieve largely in control of things. But if anyone could retain control of things, it was Grandma Gin-Gin.

Sophie’s mother, Rebecca died of breast cancer when Sophie was only a child. Having raised a tribe of children herself, Grandma Gin-Gin took it upon herself to look after Sophie and fill that mother’s role, too-soon left vacant.

Sophie’s father, Charles had been devastated by the loss of Rebecca and found himself consuming his every moment with the Navy in order to drown the pain and heartbreak. From everything that Charles and Rebecca had created and built together as partners and soul mates, his greatest accomplishment was Sophie, and it devastated him even more to know that after laying his wife of 15 years to rest, he had to return to his ship and leave his daughter to mourn not only the loss of her mother, but the absence of her father as well. Genevieve was his saving grace. She had, for all intents and purposes, been Sophie’s mother.

So when Gin-Gin went into the hospital with congestive heart failure, Sophie stepped up and focused on her. It had been 4 months of hospital visits, meetings with doctors, meetings with the family, business adjustments, budget amendments and a lot of crying into her pillow in the dark. But Sophie was getting through it.

Now, with Gin-Gin’s health steadily improving, she had hope that one day soon, there would not be any family visits to a hospital room, but her grandmother would be back at the B&B and all of the family could have a part in helping to look after her. At the last family meeting, Sophie had volunteered to take care of the stables and the horses they had bought over the past ten years for country rides for guests of Finch Landing. She had grown up caring for them, riding them, feeding them and loving them, and the idea of being in charge of that aspect of the business made her happy.

For now though, while the weather was bad, and with the horses staying in the barn more often than not, she had to help work the front desk and do any other odds and ends jobs around Finch Landing that were necessary. Sophie slung her bag over her shoulder and tromped through the slush and dirty snow to her car parked in the lot across from her apartment building. Today felt like exactly what it was… Tuesday – not as bad as Monday but way too early in the week to look forward to the weekend.

The drive on a nice summer day would have taken about ten minutes, but with the rain and ice and other incapable drivers on the road, the drive took triple that. Trying to calm herself down, Sophie pulled onto the gravel road that led to Finch Landing.

Two more months of this. Just two months. She gritted her teeth. March should never be this cold – anywhere. She muttered a few curses to herself as she slipped on the river rocks that created a walkway to the front door. With a sigh, she pulled open the over-sized door and stepped into the heat. White Christmas-style lights twinkled in every corner of the front foyer and Sophie could smell the wood burning in the fireplace right around the corner in the Great room. She unwrapped her scarf from her face and pulled her hat off and stepped behind the desk. Throwing her bag and outer clothing under the shelf and running her fingers through her still-wet hair, Sophie headed towards the kitchen for something hot to drink. Before she made it into the Great room, Alex bumped into her, his face buried in his accounting book.

The encounter scared Alex more so than Sophie, and she helped him regain his balance before smiling. Good morning, Uncle Alex. Everything okay?

He looked nervous and upset, but then Alex Boone always looked nervous and upset. He shut the ledger and slid it under his arm. Good morning, Sophie. I was just looking at some figures for next month. You didn’t happen to stop by the hospital on your way in, did you?

Sophie shook her head and walked past him to the coffee bar that separated the dining area from the Great room. No, but if you want, I can go by there at lunchtime. I planned on getting a couple things for the dinner tonight anyway. She poured a cup of coffee and doctored it while she spoke.

Yes, that would be good. I would go, but I have so much to do with all this. He threw up his free hand and headed to his office.

She watched him walk away, all nervous energy and twitches. By all accounts, he acted like the oldest of the eight brothers and sisters, but in reality, Alexander Boone was the youngest at 38 years old… going on 60.

Sophie continued on to the kitchen and swung open the large stainless steel door. Uncle Greg stood hunched over a tray of flan he had made the day before and was now gingerly topping each one with caramel and tiny dark chocolate swans. What’s up, Greg? Anything good I can munch on for breakfast? She pulled open the industrial refrigerator door and snooped through the shelves for anything good.

Greg looked up from his miniature masterpieces and grinned at his niece. Tossing a crumpled napkin at her, he took a break from that evening’s dessert tray and walked over to a catering bar in the corner of the kitchen. Lucky you, I saved you some turkey sausage and scrambled eggs from this morning’s buffet. And it’s all still magically hot! He lifted a catering lid off the first dish and three perfectly cooked links of sausage and a small pile of Greg’s famous sour cream eggs sat steaming.

Sophie looked at the food and started salivating before she even got across the kitchen. Greg, I’m not sure if I tell you this nearly enough, but you are my hero. She lifted the dish from the set of trays and walked over to an island covered in cutting boards, set it down and began stuffing her face. She moaned with pleasure for how insanely delicious the food was.

Greg smiled and walked back to the tray of flan. Sliding it up on his shoulder, he walked it to the fridge and placed it on the top shelf. That ecstasy you are eating comes with a condition, dear Sophie. He shut the fridge and turned to face her. Dusting off his hands, he leaned against the refrigerator and watched as she piled eggs into swollen cheeks as if saving some for next week. I need you to help me with a wedding this weekend. It’s small – only about fifty people but twenty of them are staying here so I am sure they would prefer to see your face during the event rather than mine covered with flour and bread crumbs. Myra would be here during the week but not for the wedding so…

Sophie looked up mid-chew and cut her eyes at her favorite uncle. Myra Wagner was Greg’s wedding planner when he was working that end of his business. She was an uptight, bossy, type-A personality with a heavy dose of OCD and way too much caffeine in her system. More than once, Sophie