Her Beau of Piney Cove: Piney Cove, #1

By Tessa Stockton

Falling for a Friend

 

When Lana Applewhite skipped town after high school, from a small rural community bent for gossip, she meant never to return. Aside from getting jilted, she also sidestepped expectations to help run the family-owned candy store. Now ten years have gone by, and although she's reluctant, her grandmother's urgent plea brings her back home, only to discover news that has her reeling with indecision.

 

When she seeks out her childhood best friend, Beau Monroe, it's as if things between them never changed. Yet beneath the surface, they have. Beau has kept a secret that may ruin their friendship. Steadfast yet shy, a man of few words, he's missed every chance over the years to tell Lana… until now. Confessing his love to her may change everything. Then again, Lana just might have a secret of her own.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Creative Purpose Publications
• Release date: Jul 13, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223491910

Tessa Stockton

Tessa Stockton is a speculative fiction novelist, freelancer, and editor living in the United States. She is a former professional dancer.

Book preview

"Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful,

and endures through every circumstance."

—1 Corinthians 13:7

Chapter One

Lana drove past the picket fence at the corner, an ornamental frame to the Welcome to Piney Cove sign hanging above. Bright white, proof of a recent paint over, glared under the new summer sun. She squinted. The wood, despite the fresh coat, was still original, no doubt. Some things never change. Was it Old Man Gordy, the town’s favorite landscaping handyman, who still crawled out to this corner every couple of years to do the job? Or did his rickety spine finally let up the chore to another now sprier?

She stopped the car in the middle of the road. Could she do this? Go back to the place she grew up, where too many memories lurked, buried just beneath the fragile surface. The hospitality beacon swung from its hinges as a light breeze danced across the rough-hewn, made-over sign. Red and yellow painted flowers hadn’t withered around the unforgiving black letters with the town’s introduction for tourists, residents, and passersby, declaring a mere dot on the map. Some things definitely never change, especially traffic at this time of day, when most folks sat beneath the ceiling fans or air-conditioned rooms, sipping their afternoon sweet tea.

Had her gammy made some, setting out the glass pitcher filled with sweet amber and chilled with ice, as she’d done every day Lana had grown up in her house? Just the way she loved tea with her grandmother; loved life with her, too. That is, until circumstances threw a giant wrench at her, broadsiding her with the plea to flee.

She took off. That was ten years ago. She’d never come back. Not even to visit her sweet gammy even once. The one who’d raised her and who didn’t deserve the thoughtless ditch by a self-absorbed eighteen-year-old.

The beep of a lightly tapped horn made Lana glance up from her palms, that had a moment ago held her face between them, to the rearview mirror. She heaved a sigh, along with a wave to the driver behind her, and crept forward into more of a slow trot than a run.

With no traffic lights and all signs, the ease of drifting into her small hometown gave her a chance to catch her breath before she waltzed through the front door to Gammy’s candy shop. Of course, her grandmother had phoned her, insisting she come back. She’d persisted with those requests over the years, ignored by Lana. Not that she didn’t care. She did. Crushingly. She just didn’t want to face the world of her past, for it proved too large of a world in a tiny package.

Her voice did it this time, though; Gammy’s. Something different about the tone urged Lana to load up her compact car with two suitcases and head out of the city bustle into the easygoing culture of Piney Cove. She made the trip in a little over ten hours after ten years of absence.

Since a delivery truck blocked the narrow alleyway in the rear, she succumbed to parking in front. Lana sighed when she shut off the car’s engine. She sat there staring at the entrance. Some things never change... This time she muttered the sentiment, dreading getting out of the vehicle and actually going inside. She didn’t fear changes, not now anyway. Lana had learned to embrace them when she first decided to run away. What smothered her was the sameness of everything, every single day, life the same exact way. That’s why she wanted no part of the candy store, a long-held family business. Nope, she craved a fast-paced life, newness, a different life than she’d ever known. So when all the high school ugliness went down, she went out. Far away, never intending to return aside from when Gammy departed this earth. Only, the entire community expected Gammy to live forever. Lana did, too.

She glanced in the rearview mirror, at her eyes with road-weary puffiness, fluffed her hair that never fell flat no matter how much she wished otherwise; angled her face one side to the other, before yanking the handle of the driver’s side door. The access opened, releasing her to the pavement she never thought she’d step foot on again.

A trill of anxiety traveled up through her soles before she took her first step forward. Progress, yes, she could do this.

Lana fidgeted with her blouse. Bit the end of a strand of wayward hair. Blew said strand out with a huff.

She opened the shop door. The heavy wood on hinges, framing the large single pane of glass she had just peered through, squeaked as it always did. A potpourri of sweet smells smacked her. The aromas of hard candies, taffy, and caramel apples began wrapping around her in a warm, sugary embrace. Not what she expected!

Her shoulders drooped while she stood in the entry, gazing at the rows and layers of colors and decadence filling giant mason jars and glass shelves. Something pinged in her heart. Surely she didn’t miss this place, the Applewhite’s old-fashioned candy shop! Three generations of her family owned and operated this store. She was determined not to be the fourth handler of penny candy.

Lana did another once-over. She blinked. Set her jaw and determined to shut the door with a sturdy clang, rocking the little brass bell on a red satin ribbon that jostled against the pane.

Other than a random gurgle from the percolator of complimentary coffee, the place was quiet. Also on the tall stand at the side of the space, the usual variety of creamer, sugar, stir sticks, cups, and a pitcher of lemon water.

Her glances bounced over the three small tables with sets of chairs for the patrons who preferred to sit rather than stroll down the sidewalks with treats in hand. Along one edge of the candy counter also stood tall stools, the originals.

She hesitated. Lana glanced toward the back, at the opened door leading to the break room, its light on. Voice soft, she said, Hello? Almost wishing nobody would hear her and she could turn around and run again. After all this time, she didn’t want to face Gammy.

Lana? That you?

She faltered in her first step.

I’m back here. Come and see me, her grandmother urged.

Lana straightened her shoulders, then proceeded into the break room.

She froze when she saw the matron who had raised her, the family’s spunky queen bee. What happened next, she didn’t expect. Lana lowered her head, face crumpling while she sobbed aloud. The sudden image of her aged grandmother reclining there on the break room sofa had felt as if an arrow shot straight through her heart. Guilt ran over her, hitting her like a runaway semi.

Well, come here, Lana, let me see you, her grandmother admonished.

Lana, eyes tightly shut, made her way over by memory. She plunked down on the faded blue cushions next to the one who had raised her. Oh, Gams, her voice broke.

Come now. She paused. Well, I mean it! Come here, closer.

Okay, Lana almost cracked a laugh at her grandmother’s insistence. It would have been more a sound of joy and relief than humor. That Gammy found she could still wrap her arms around her after what she’d done, and how insensitive she had been.

That’a girl. She rocked and swayed in a familiar motion. Lana could almost fall asleep to the nostalgic sensation, memories of Gammy’s faint lilac fragrance becoming real again as it tickled her nose.

I’m sorry, Gams. I’m sorry, so sorry, she wept. If I could take it all back, the pain I’ve caused you, having left you. If I could have a do over.

The elder patted her back. Nonsense. I am so full of joy to see you, to hold you now. None of anything else matters. You’re home. That’s all that matters to me.

The continued pat-pat-pat, in purposeful brushing hand strokes, like giant cleansing raindrops bursting against her back, comforted Lana, soothed her. She hadn’t expected such unconditional forgiveness extended, or her own absolute surrender.

Let me look at you. Her grandmother pulled back to study her.

Lana, self-conscious, tucked a wavy strand of hair behind her ear, finally bringing her gaze up to her elder.

Gammy cupped her wrinkled hands, those cool, slender palms against Lana’s hot, tear-streaked cheeks. Still my beautiful girl!

Lana widened her mouth in a smile, toothy even, as her eyes pooled again. She placed her hands over her grandmother’s, said, I’ve missed you.

I know!

Lana laughed. I love you.

I know that, too!

Oh, Gams...

And I love you, my precious girl. You better know that!

She nodded, I do. Sniffed. Thank you, especially after everything, you know, she shifted to wipe her plugged up nose.

Never you mind. I’m just grateful the good Lord brought you back to me.

When Lana bowed her head by compunction, the brass bell on the candy shop entrance jingled.

Gammy glanced at her vintage watch. Bebe, my current employee, I reckon, is still in the back with the delivery. I don’t get up too easily these days...

Gams? Lana knitted her brow. What do you mean, what’s wrong? Lana puffed. Is that why you sounded so desperate for me to come home?

Her grandmother smiled, warmth oozing from her yet twinkling eyes. Oh, I just love it that you still call this home! She managed a light slap of delight, hand against skirt-covered thigh.

A soft whistle filtered back to them from the front.

Be a dear and help our customer?

She bristled. Our customer? I don’t know, she stuttered, it’s been a while. Things have changed.

You might have changed, but out there, everything is exactly how you’ve always liked it arranged, dear.

I— she started to object, but then the melodic sound of a whistle, soft and summoning, floated back once more.

Please, Lana? Since you’re here and everything, well, I sure could use your help right now.

She paused, watching her grandmother rubbing her legs as if the muscles buttoned-up under silent stiffness and pain. Okay. She turned, saying over her shoulder, Be right back.

Lana wiped her eyes, rearranged her hair, and then stepped out onto the floor, slinking behind the counter.

After a quick exhale, she forced a smile. Can I help you? She asked the man who, bent at the waist, peered through the glass at the rows of hard candies.

He bobbled, then straightened, eyes widening into a greater expanse of blue.

The sight of him almost made Lana’s breath catch in her throat. A looker for sure, yet he possessed something else that gave her pause. She just couldn’t put her finger on it. Reforming her earlier smile, she cleared her throat. See something you like?

Uh, this time he cleared his throat without taking his eyes off her. Uh, he uttered again, then vaguely pointed. Horehounds, please, he stuttered.

Horehounds, she mumbled, locating them in the large candy display. Easy enough. She straightened to address him again. How many would you like?

Quarter pound. He stared right through her.

Lana tried to ignore the unsteady way he made her feel. She could do this next order of business. Open the bin, check. Pick up the small silver scoop, check. Dig into the hard candies, check. Slide the horehounds into... what? Oops. She set the scoop back in the bin. Turned around once, then whipped the other way, searching.

The clean-cut yet also earthy man was quite handsome. With his square jaw, he gestured to the top of the counter. The scale.

Scale? Her brow furrowed. Oh, right! I need to weigh them, don’t I? A nervous laugh slipped out of her mouth. She measured, adding more horehounds to make four ounces. A quarter pound, Lana stretched the words as she functioned. Done. She paused. The antique cuckoo clock ticked each second in the background, filling up the quiet space.

The man’s perfectly lined mouth seemed to stretch as if hiding a grin. He pointed behind her, his plaid shirtsleeve rolled up tightly against his forearm. Behind you.

Huh? Lana spun again, facing the mirrored wall hosting a multitude of old-fashioned candy tools, gadgets, and condiments.

The brown paper sacks, he offered, to put the candies in?

Oh, she said, growing more flustered, right.

Lana felt like an idiot as she grabbed a small bag from the stack, snapping it open and reissued the horehounds by dropping them from the vintage scale’s brass pan into the sack. She crimped a moan.

Here, she had fled to New York City after high school graduation, worked her way up into the high-pressure regional sales manager position she held now. For the past ten years, she had been surviving on her own in the flurry of the Big Apple—just the way she’d wanted—and yet she couldn’t seem to grasp simple sweet confections in little ole Piney Cove. That realization, along with the embarrassing blowup with her then fiancé, made her run away from home, family, and from expectations that she didn’t want for herself. Who could escape small town gossip? She possessed the urge to leave anyway, ever since she could remember. The heartache back then during her senior year was raw, and she took it as her cue to go. She’d made the correct decision, right?

She stared at the horehounds. They rattled at her from behind the bag’s plastic window below the gold sticker imprinted with the family’s trade logo, Applewhite’s Sweet Shoppe. A pang of guilt struck her.

Her grandmother’s voice drifted, reaching her. Everything okay out there?

Yes, Gammy, Lana called back. She huffed, trying to stuff down undesired emotions. That’ll be, she bit the corner of her lower lip, that’ll be, um...

It’s on the counter. The man had placed a dollar and some change next to the mason jars of brightly colored candy sticks. He reached for the bag, taking the horehound drops carefully from Lana’s hand.

Reluctant to let go, something was eerily familiar about this man. Even the sadness that now hijacked his face.

Good day, ma’am, he drawled, turned, and exited the store.

She watched his red and black checkered back, fabric stretched over his lean frame, as he left, the outdoorsman boots; the short and tapered pompadour haircut, appearing like silk the color of chestnut brown. The hair struck a strong chord in her mind. One person she knew in Piney Cove had hair that perfect. She used to tease him, half by doing what good friends do, while the other half out of envy.

Breath wedged in her throat. She released a small gasp and ran to the door, swinging it wide open. She froze at the stoop. Beau?!

The man stopped, his shoulders seizing up beneath the plaid.

Beau-Beau? Lana said, disbelieving.

He turned around in place; rendered a small shrug.

She practically tripped over him, throwing her arms around him.

After some hesitation, Lana felt his arms fold around her as Beau returned the hug. A sigh of relief escaped her, with it a part of the mound of regret she realized she’d been carrying with her.

I should have known by the whistle. That was your whistle. She leaned back to study him. You still whistle, she blubbered, not having realized she’d started crying.

She moved to hug him again, but he’d already drawn her into his own squeezing arms.

Chapter Two

M s. Applewhite, he whispered against her ear, even and controlled. While a mix of the hurt from the past and elation at seeing her again—something he’d dreamed about for years, that she’d come back—hammered his heart, his spirit teetered on the brink of being crushed or flying with hope. Breathe, he told himself. Nice and easy, that’s it.

Lana pushed back. Oh, cut the formalities, Beau. It’s me, she stressed, only your best friend since grade school.

Beau gazed at her, taking in all of her face. The dimples he could never forget, though, he had to admit, there were times he’d desperately tried for sanity’s sake. Unruly waves of her ash-blonde hair swept her cheeks when she spoke. He studied her, resisting the urge to rub his eyes and pinch himself—pinch her—to test if this encounter, what he’d wished for more than anything, was real, or if he’d thought about her so much during her absence that he now hallucinated. He narrowed his eyes. She sported her hair a bit longer than the bob back in the day. Other than that, and dark circles beneath her eyes that showed up whenever she stressed over something making her look tired, she was still beautiful in that natural way. Maybe even more so now.

I can’t believe it, she said, smacking him in the arm. Her hand lingered there on his biceps where she’d made contact, warm and welcome. Too welcome.

He grimaced. He couldn’t take more heartbreak from this woman. She’d deserted him ten years ago without so much as a goodbye. As soon as he’d resolved to shut her out of his mind and heart at last, here she comes rolling into town—and he’s pudding in her palm, even when she hadn’t recognized him! Could he really fold as easy as that?

"Beau