The Bloody Rose

By Chrissy Yacoub

Hope Lovett, Dominic Whitaker and their son Taylor are running The Lovett Lighthouse that serves as a shelter for battered hearts. But with a disturbing and eclectic guest list the atmosphere at the inn is anything but trite.

On Taylors sixteenth birthday Hope discovers the killer who kidnapped Taylor eight years ago and committed a series of murders on the island, was released from the mental institution after spending the last eight years in therapy. The killer visits Hope with a peace offering - a red rose the same day the first of a series of new murders begins to occur on the island by what is now dubbed as The Bloody Rose Killer since all the victims are left with a bloody red rose by their bodies. Hope is convinced the killer is back for vengeance but Dominic suspects that something more sinister is at work.

Meanwhile, Taylor has questions about Amber and how his biological father Curtis died questions that nobody seems to know the real answers to except for the killer. As the situation escalates Taylor rebels against his parents and their warnings, which drives him right into the The Bloody Rose Killers hands.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Sep 12, 2011
• ISBN: 9781463449865

Chrissy Yacoub

Chrissy Yacoub is a published author of six books, including a poetry book. Writing at an early age and pursuing her goal adamantly, she had her first novel published at nineteen. Yacoub has also tried her hands at song writing proving that there is no avenue of the written craft she is not willing to explore. She attributes much of her success to her fan base and has claimed that without them, she wouldnt be where she is today. She continues to write in the fiction genre with Lost Soul being her first psychological thriller to date dealing with the human emotions we all experience in dealing with the loss of a truly loved one and the many effects it takes on us both emotionally and mentally. Yacoubs last two novels Autumns Apparitions and its sequel Ghostly Echoes, received phenomenal reviews as Yacoub dealt with the issue of Does a soul linger after death to complete unfinished business? Her novel Cultures Colliding was a fiction-based book set in the backdrop of nine eleven and deals with the issues that arise when two people of different backgrounds and religion fall in love despite their families objections. Her other novels Somewhere Out There and The Dreamers tenderly explore the issues that young adults face such as love, finding themselves in their careers and not allowing themselves to walk in the shadows of others. Check out Chrissy Yacoubs works and remember to read Whispers in the Breeze; a beautiful collection of poetry that inspires and captures human emotions so precisely and expresses them into the written word that Yacoub has clearly demonstrated over and over she is a pro at doing.

Book preview

© 2011 Chrissy Yacoub. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 8/26/2011

ISBN: 978-1-4634-4988-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4634-4987-2 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4634-4986-5 (e)

Library Of Congress Control Number: 2011914557

Printed in the United States of America

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

PROLOGUE

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

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 29

CHAPTER 30

CHAPTER 31

CHAPTER 32

CHAPTER 33

CHAPTER 34

CHAPTER 35

CHAPTER 36

CHAPTER 37

CHAPTER 38

CHAPTER 39

CHAPTER 40

CHAPTER 41

CHAPTER 42

CHAPTER 43

EPILOGUE

PROLOGUE

I WISH I WAS SOMEONE else. Anybody else would be better. At the very least I wish I could rewind my entire life and start completely over – yes even all the way from birth. Everything deteriorated for me the minute I was born. I should have just stayed in my mother’s womb. Hell, I shouldn’t have even been born.

But I was. And here I am unable to turn back the hands of time; my immortal enemy. I was doing really well for a while. Then I started remembering.

It began with a dream one night; only it was more like a memory than a dream. And I started to recall everything that happened to me. All those horrible events I did my hardest to suppress for all these years came flooding back to me as if they were held back by a dam all this time only to have the waters of my past create a riptide and come crashing against the safe haven I thought I built myself.

But as I discovered early on in life – there are no safe havens. Evil is always lurking in every crevice; every turn; everywhere. And you know, once malevolence finds you it never lets go. Once a victim; always a victim – unless of course you decide to fight back. All the good shrinks out there and the self-help books will give you their spiel about how we are a product of our attitude and how it’s not what happens to us but how we react to it.

What a load of bullshit! The people who write those rose-colored brochures have clearly not seen evil…yet. They think it’s that simple to just put the past behind you or move on and forget the horrible things that happen to you. They don’t realize they follow you every time you close your eyes. They fail to see that doubts that surround every new acquaintance; the weariness one feels upon entering a new place not knowing what to expect.

The events of our past shape us into who we are today. That is a fact. Those of us who are blessed to live a sheltered life do not know better than to view the world as rainbows and butterflies. It’s not until someone snatches away that fairy tale away from them and throws them into a world of darkness and violence that they realize there are no rainbows and certainly no pot of gold waiting for us. That is my world; a place of darkness and pain.

Yet I go about my everyday business with a smile on my face and a skip to my step. Nobody would ever think by looking at me all that has happened to me. Just like life, it is a façade.

I reach out and take hold of a beautiful long-stemmed rose and take in its fragrant scent. Roses are notorious for being the symbol of love. You love someone; you get them a rose. You admire someone, you get them a rose. I suppose that is appropriate considering that love is the biggest scam of all.

Think about it. Roses are the most beautiful when they are first in bloom. They go through stages just like love. At first they are closed up buds hesitant to open up. But once they do, they are such a breathtaking, aromatic decadence. The petals are soft, the scent is invigorating and to just behold a rose makes one smile at such beauty. Then time passes; the elements and environment begin taking its toll on the poor flower until it begins to wilt. Wind, rain, people, a combination of things cause the rose to eventually die; its petals withering away one by one until it is down to nothing. Pretty soon that scent you took in so deeply turns your stomach; the touch of the petals cause it to depreciate to the ground and that beauty that once was is no more. It is replaces with just the shell of what the rose once was.

I love roses. They are indeed a symbol of love and what happens when you love. The Cape is full of wild roses in the spring and summer. I like to indulge in them knowing that come autumn and winter they will all shrivel up and dry becoming a mere memory.

I exhale a heavy sigh as I absent-mindedly twirl the rose in my hand. This was all so wrong; so very, very wrong. I have been wronged over and over again in this life and now I must take action. I can keep quiet no more. I tried doing the right thing; God how I tried. But I am a product of my past and a victim of unfortunate circumstances – all brought about by her and her stupid family.

She is a perfect example of a sheltered life. Sure she had her share of trials but look at her now; happy and carefree, living the life others could only dream about. The kind of life some would kill for.

The kind of life I plan on killing for.

But it’s not just about her. I’ve been dealt a cruel hand and it’s time for me to fight back. All I did was be born into this world and I didn’t even ask for that much. Why should I suffer as I have and continue to do so? It’s time others suffered too. My father told me I was doing the right thing. He taught me never to second guess myself. Even now as an adult he tells me to fight back or else I’ll continue to get stomped on over and over by people because that was human nature. People just took and took and took without giving anything in return. How much more will they take from me? Nothing if I have any say in the matter.

Now it’s time to get my piece of the pie. Father says it’s all right; that everything will be all right. When I start having doubts he tells me that this is the only way I’ll be happy. That sometimes we have to get a little dirty and get blood on our hands in order to reap the rewards.

So that’s what I’ll do. I’m going to make him proud. It’s the least I can do. Father lived a hard life as well and my stupid mother was the one at fault for most of it. I understand that everything he did was just his way of retaliating against the world that did him wrong. He told me that now it’s my turn.

It’s late spring on the Cape; summer is just around the corner. The flowers are in full bloom after a cold, dark, long winter. Everybody is so happy and light hearted now that there are extra hours of sunlight and the sun is thawing out what was once frozen. But even here on this charming island the climate is unpredictable. Mother Nature herself has days of tranquility right before she shows her wrath. I wonder what her story is. We all have one.

Yes the long winter nights that caused everybody to run to their homes and lock up their windows and doors tightly are over. Of course it wasn’t always this way. Ever since that string of murders seven years ago Cape Cod hasn’t been the same. Sure they supposedly caught the murderer and it has been peaceful since, but folks remember; they will always remember. And nobody wants to take that chance in case she returns….or worse yet, somebody who will copycat the horrific crimes all those years ago. Once a community experiences sinister activity, they cannot go back from it. Oh sure they all tried to live a normal life since that winter all those years ago, but The Cape has been scarred. And like I’ve learned, some scars never heal.

But now there are flowers in bloom and I have the choice: Red or white roses. White roses do nothing for me. White is such a useless color; angels and purity. What a joke! As if that sort of thing exists.

But red; now there’s a color so vibrant and passionate. Red stands for love, fire, and ardor. I sit back in my chair reclining in such an angle that I have full view of the garden before me. The long-stemmed roses are the first and last thing to catch my eye. They congregate together in fiery clusters begging for me to find them use. Oh I plan to; I plan to use each and every one of my roses; each one plucked and left as a souvenir of my work; a sort of signature if you will. After all, red roses symbolize love….and blood.

I take out a photo of Hope and her family all smiling and disgustingly happy. It makes me sick to my stomach. She writes murder mysteries but what does she know about murder? Has she taken the time to really understand what drives people to commit such crimes against mankind? She runs a joke of an inn with Dominic, another impediment I must get rid of, and they listen to peoples’ problems and then what? They call themselves experts just because people confide in them and they offer their two-cent advice?

There she is next to Dominic and their son Taylor all one big happy family posing in front of their beloved lighthouse inn. I let out a heavy sigh as I finally get up, photo in hand, and walk outside to my garden to admire my roses. I had one of every size; every color, and every bloom. There were some still closed up not yet ready to open their petals to the world while others had been in bloom all spring long and were ready to wilt away to make room for the new ones I plant.

I have to find the perfect one. I have to pick the one with the brightest and reddest petals and the longest stem. It had to be absolutely stunning. All the others I choose are just practice; similar to all those innocent people I annihilate before saving the piece de resistance as my grand finale. That’s when Hope and her precious little family come into play. I want them to live just long enough to suffer and bear witness to the horror they are about to see; experience a little of what I’ve experienced and truly understand what it means to be in pain. Then and only then will their turn come.

Life is all about suffering and surviving. We all do our best to stay alive in a world where death is so eminent. Why should some live a peaceful existence while others of us were thrown into the deep pits of hell? It’s just not fair. All I want to do is even the score a little bit. Give others a taste of what I’ve endured. It’s only fair.

I take a deep breath as I kneel close to a bush and pluck a rose off from the bottom of its stem making sure to grab as much of it as I could. I get pricked by its thorns but I ignore the pain. Oh it’s a beauty; nice and long and every petal perfectly shaped. Too bad it would die soon now that I’ve pulled it away from its nutrients. Oh but they’ll be more; there always are.

I put the rose to my nose and inhale one last time as deeply as I could before exhaling slowly and feeling a slight buzz of euphoria. Of course it’s not the rose that’s intoxicating it is my thoughts and what I know I must do soon.

I notice my finger is bloody from the thorn and I must tend to it. I get up, dust myself off and head back inside where I set the photo I had been staring at down and place the long-stemmed red rose beside it; both of them smeared with my blood.

CHAPTER 1

SO MY SON TURNS SIXTEEN in a few weeks and though I am so proud of the person he is becoming, it saddens me for I am hit with the realization that he is no longer a little boy but a young man. What is a mother to do? I feel as though I blinked and he metamorphosed into this bundle of walking hormones.

He has been talking about getting his driver’s license; as if I’m not traumatized enough with him turning another year old. This is a big deal in a parent’s life. No longer will he be asking his father and me for rides to his band concerts; instead he’ll be asking us for the car keys. Of course he wants his own car and has been maintaining a job on campus while going to school in order to save money. His father and I taught him responsibility and earning what you want. Now that summer is around the corner the job is on hiatus until the fall semester so he wants to work as a local lifeguard here to follow in his biological father’s footsteps of saving people. He always did idealize Curtis.

But that terrifies me. My son saving lives. Who will save his life? When I expressed my concern to Dominic he was so calm about it and said that if the idea bothered me that much; we should just help him get a car now so he wouldn’t have to work until the fall term begins. I know Dominic wants to help him out. I do too. Yet the prospect of encouraging him to hit the road by himself is not one I’m fond of.

I know I’m in denial. Is this normal? Any mothers out there who experienced this or am I just coddling him? I wish I could keep him eight years old forever but I can’t. I have to face it; my son is growing up whether I like it or not.

Thank you guys for listening – or rather reading – my silly banter. It’s probably not the blog you expected today but it has certainly been what is on my mind the last few days. I know I should be thankful for the young man he is becoming. I couldn’t be prouder. He receives good grades, holds down a part time job, is dating a very sweet girl who happens to be a fan of my work, and has just developed into an individual I am proud to call my son. He had a wonderful role model though and no I’m not referring to myself. I’ve tried; God knows I’ve tried, but I screwed up a lot. Dominic, however, is wonderful with him. The smartest thing I ever did was have him adopt Taylor seven years ago. Taylor adores him; and I happen to think he’s pretty special too.

You done?

Hope Lovett looked up from her laptop at a smiling Dominic and couldn’t help but smile in return. You’ve got perfect timing as usual, she said.

Taylor and I were going over his birthday bash. We decided to come to a compromise.

That got Hope’s attention. Hope had wanted to throw a party for her son at their cottage, which would provide more than enough room for him and all his friends. But Taylor insisted that was too childish and he was turning sixteen now so he needed to celebrate without the whole cake and ice cream; even though Hope thought one never got too old for cake and ice cream. Since it was already turning into summer on The Cape, the weather was perfect for a beach party. That was what Dominic informed Hope Taylor wanted.

He said that we were ‘allowed’ to come too provided we don’t do anything to embarrass him. I think he meant you actually, Dominic said with a grin.

Embarrass him? Since when do I embarrass him around his friends? Hope asked taking offense.

Do I have to remind you how you cried at his last band performance so loud they had to stop in the middle of it because they thought someone in the audience was choking to death?

Hope’s face turned red as she dropped her face as if in shame and said, Hey, it’s not every day your son plays solo.

Dominic just laughed, his dark passionate eyes never leaving Hope’s. So our son is allowing us attendance at his party, which he wants on the beach. Does he want a barbecue or something?

He does. So I told him the old grill master will serve up some delicious stakes, Dominic said.

Please, your idea of cooking is re-heating a Big Mac from McDonalds, Hope joked.

Dominic threw her a dirty look, but playfully before he turned serious. How are you doing? Still struggling with the idea that Taylor is turning sixteen?

I know, I’m silly…

There’s nothing silly about it, Dominic interrupted. I understand. In a lot of ways it is sad to come to grips with the fact he’s getting older but it is what it is.

Hope looked up at Dominic and couldn’t help but smile. She always valued his insight and advice because he was always straight with her and he never sugarcoated anything for her behalf. He had also been through a lot and that had caused him to mature quicker than most and Hope knew she could always turn to him for words of wisdom.

I know, he’s your little boy and always will be no matter how old he is, Dominic continued.

He could always read her like a book too!

It’s not only that, Hope said as she stood up and walked around her desk to join Dominic who was sitting on the cushiony sofa she had in her room. It’s that he has been through a lot as a child and in many ways that just ripped his childhood apart. I feel like he lost so many years of just being carefree and worrying about the things kids should worry about, which is nothing really. It’s almost as if I want to give him those years back just so he could stay innocent a little while longer.

Dominic took Hope’s hands and kissed them gently before he looked into her eyes and she thought he would tell her something sentimental perhaps. Instead he said, Trust me, Taylor tells me a lot; especially the things that go on between him and Violet. That boy lost his innocence a long time ago. Hope’s eyes widened as Dominic just laughed taking amusement in her shock. Don’t tell me he…

Hey the things discussed between a father and son is private, Dominic said. You know, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.

You didn’t go with him to Vegas, Hope said mildly.

You know what I mean.

Before Hope could argue or try to even pry anything out of Dominic he quickly changed the subject. You know, I actually came in here with an idea but got sidetracked. I know you’re worried about Taylor working as a lifeguard so why don’t we ask him if he wants to work here at the inn; at least for the summer. It is our busy season and he already knows the ropes having helped out a lot for us in the past. He knows this place like the back of his hand. It’s only fitting since we are planning on handing over this business to him later on. This will give him plenty of practice.

Hope thought about that for a moment before her face lit up. That’s a brilliant idea honey!

Dominic smiled as if he was proud of himself. So you’re okay with that?

I’m more than okay with that. And this way we can keep an eye on him too, Hope said before she suddenly remembered. Now back to him and Violet.

Dominic made a show of glancing at his wrist to check his watch when Hope knew he didn’t even look before he said, Oh look, my shift is about to start. Don’t want to keep Sebastian and Noah waiting. Love you!

He gave Hope a quick peck on the nose and left her room in a jiffy. She just smiled and shook her head at the man she loved. She couldn’t help but feel so blessed.

Eight years ago she would have never imagined her life like this; even in her wildest dreams. She was still trying to move on after the death of her late husband Curtis Lovett who died while attempting to rescue someone at sea. Hope was devastated and poor little Taylor was only six years old when his daddy drowned.

That was what inspired Hope to convert the old lighthouse that was passed down to Curtis from generations in his family into an inn of refuge. Prior to that it was actually used for its original purpose; to guide lost ships to safety. Curtis, along with his cousin Noah and good friend Sebastian were the trusted light keepers always standing in watch for any signs of distress – and there were many.

Then it happened that cold winter’s night nine years ago. Curtis, Noah and Sebastian were tending the lighthouse as usual and Hope was working on one of her latest murder mysteries when the beacon’s light spotted someone in the distance. Curtis, the natural hero he was, wasted no time to go after them instructing them to call 911.

Hope knew he didn’t want her following him but she’d be damned to just stay behind when her husband was putting himself in harm’s way. So she took off chasing after him. The last thing she saw was Curtis entering the water. She never saw him come out. She stumbled in the darkness of the beach because Curtis and Sebastian had trouble with the beacon’s light and it had gone black for a few moments; just in time for Hope to trip and hit her head on the rocks. The next thing she remembered was waking up in a hospital room with her husband declared dead.

No body was ever found and for the longest time Hope held on to the belief that Curtis survived. But when he never returned for her and Taylor and no body was ever resurfaced they had to come to terms that he was washed away by the heavy current.

That was when Hope decided to honor him as the hero he was and convert the entire lighthouse into an inn that was specifically designed to shelter those in need; those lost souls who needed an escape from their lives be it because of a loss, an illness or any other excruciating challenge they might face. Hope learned that sometimes people found it easier to talk to a stranger than they did the people closest to them because they were less likely to be judged by a stranger and would be given objective advice.

And that was what Hope tried to offer as best as she could. She even had a room near the lobby of the inn she called The Therapy Room. There, people could go in and help themselves to a library of books or to just friendly conversation by a warm fireplace. Hope never pried but people always found it easy to open up to her; especially in that room.

The Lovett Lighthouse as it came to be known was truly a haven for those seeking shelter. There was no limit to the amount of time guests stayed there either. If she had an opening it was theirs until they felt they were ready to return home and face the world. It never hurt her business either because there was always someone in need of shelter.

She managed the inn with Noah and Sebastian who remained her trusting friends and were like family to her and Taylor for two years after Curtis’ death. Then Dominic showed up with his sister and surprised her with the news of him moving to The Cape and leaving California behind. Gone were the days of emails and long drawn-out letters that she and Dominic engaged in on a daily basis. She had the real thing now and he moved in with her and Taylor in their cottage right beside the inn.

It didn’t take long for Hope to turn Dominic into an equal partner and when their feelings about each other were finally revealed Dominic adopted Taylor as his own and had helped Hope raise him ever since. Taylor always understood that Dominic was never there to take the place of Curtis, but merely to help be a father-figure in Curtis’ absence. Taylor loved him just as much as Dominic did.

But there had been very little talk of marriage. Dominic had been married once before and was so devastated when his wife left him that he swore he wouldn’t go down that path again. And after Hope realized she loved Dominic more than she had ever loved her husband, she knew that marriage was just a piece of paper and it would never define what she felt for Dominic. So they agreed to be together and be a family without wedded bliss. And that was when Dominic had told Hope he didn’t want her to change the name of Lovett Lighthouse. She originally established the place to honor Curtis; a true hero and it was only right that it stayed true to the name. Taylor kept Curtis’ last name as well as a way to have something from his real father. But he considered Dominic a father in every sense and that was enough for Dominic.

The three of them were so happy for years following and the inn continued to flourish and be used for what it was intended for – to help those in need. Noah and Sebastian remained working there as well for they had it made as they lived there too. It was only fitting that two of the downstairs rooms be theirs since they had lived with Hope and Curtis ever since the days they were partners with Curtis. Hope didn’t want to see them leave just because Curtis was gone. Of course with Dominic and Taylor there was no room in the cottage so Hope had always told them they could stay in two of the rooms in the inn that were secluded and not part of the others in which the guests stayed. This way they were also easily accessible should Hope need them for last minute coverage, which they never complained.

The knock on her bedroom door woke her up from her reverie as she called out, Come in.

It was Taylor with guitar in hand. Hope smiled at how handsome her son looked in his jeans and Red Sox tee shirt with matching cap to cover his light brown, wavy hair. Hi mom. Are you busy?

Never too busy for you, Hope said with a smile.

She patted the seat beside her and Taylor sat as he placed his guitar between his legs. Dad just told me about working here at the inn this summer.

What do you think? Hope asked holding her breath in hopes he’d agree.

I know what you’re doing, Taylor said with a twinkle in his brown eyes. You’re trying to get me not to be a lifeguard.

Hope let out a heavy sigh. Yes I suppose I am. What can I say? As much as I don’t like it, I’m surrounded by heroes.

My only concern is hours, Taylor said. I don’t want to step on anybody’s foot.

Noah and Sebastian will still have hours, Hope said knowing that was who he meant. Taylor loved his Noah and Sebastian like uncles and he always took them into consideration. Besides, Hope went on. I will work around your schedule. I know you have that music class this summer and then there’s your social life that I wouldn’t dream of taking away from you. So you’ll have first pick at the hours you want. I doubt you’ll get that kind of deal lifeguarding.

Taylor laughed and took off his cap for a second to run a hand through his hair before putting it back on. You drive a hard bargain. But I’ll do it.

Really? Hope cried trying to contain her excitement.

Yes Mom so you can sleep well tonight.

Hope smiled. Like Dominic, her son knew her all too well.

When can I start? Taylor asked.

As soon as school is over, Hope said. You still have to finish your part time at the campus tutoring.

Taylor nodded and said, Thanks.

But right before he got up, Hope’s hand stretched across his athletic body to prevent him from doing so. I have a question.

Taylor looked at her, waiting.

I know you’re a young man now and I also know what boys your age think about when it comes to women and relationships…

Mom…

And I know you are quite fond of Violet…

Mom, stop! Taylor cried as if the mere suggestion of what she was about to talk about disturbed him coming from his mother. I already know about the birds and the bees.

Oh I know you do, Hope said uncomfortably. It’s just, well, one must always exercise caution when it comes to such things…

Dad already talked about protection and all of that, Taylor intervened. Honestly mom, I’m not twelve.

Hope sighed again heavily. Yes I suppose you’re not. No matter how much I wish you were.

Listen, Dad is on top of this, Taylor said.

You trust him more than you do me? Hope asked looking hurt.

Taylor got up and took his mother’s hands in his. Mom, that’s not it. It’s just different talking to a guy than it is your mother. All I can say is trust me; I know what I’m doing.

Hope nodded and tried to blink away tears. What was wrong with her anyway? Ever since the fast-approaching birthday of her son she has been a mess. She needed to get a grip or she would not be allowed to his birthday shindig and she wouldn’t blame him. Who wanted a sappy mother suffering from denial that her child isn’t a child anymore?

I do trust you Taylor, Hope found herself saying. She actually trusted Dominic and knew that with his advice and guidance, Taylor couldn’t go wrong.

Okay, well, I’ve got some practicing to do with the guys, Taylor said. See ya later.

See ya, Hope echoed.

She watched her son grab his guitar and walk out as she leaned her head back against the couch. She had to snap out of it. She had a novel to write and they were expecting new guests today. Hope always liked to be present when she knew a new guest was arriving. But first she had to check her face in the mirror because all of these silly emotions she was experiencing were causing her makeup to smear.

After careful examination of her countenance and removal of her eyeliner that was in smudges from her crying she decided she wasn’t going to dab anymore on since these days controlling her tears proved to be an obstacle.

Dominic was reading The Wicked Local, Cape Cod’s neighborhood newspaper while sipping on his diet coke at the front desk enjoying the mild spring day even from inside the inn. The many windows in the lobby provided beautiful views from every corner as did all the bedrooms upstairs that each overlooked the ocean.

He had just come back from a smoke and he felt good. Taylor was more than thrilled at the idea of working at the inn for the summer and he knew Hope was grateful for that idea so that pleased Dominic. He was proud of himself for coming up with that idea.

The door of the inn opened to reveal a woman about five feet, eight inches, hair the color of corn atop a very thin hollow face. She was thin all the way around yet still curvy in the areas needed and her skin was so light it was almost translucent. Her pale blue eyes immediately found Dominic’s right before she struggled to bring her bags in that appeared to weigh more than she did.

Dominic abandoned his paper to help the woman bring in her luggage as she thanked him gratefully. Sorry, I guess I packed too much, she commented.

Don’t most women? Dominic laughed. Welcome to Lovett Lighthouse.

Thank you. I’m Caitlyn Davis; I called a couple of days ago to reserve a room.

Dominic nodded. I’m Dominic Whitaker; pleased to meet you.

They shook briefly as Dominic wasn’t a fan of shaking hands with others due to the fact that he had no idea where their hands were prior to shaking his and the germ phobic in him was constantly putting on hand sanitizer.

He walked around the corner to open the desk book and figure out which room they had assigned to her when she called before he looked up at her and said, You look familiar.

The lady smiled weakly. You probably saw me in a fashion magazine; I’m a model.

Wow! I never met a real model, Dominic said. But I don’t read fashion magazines. Just then he thought that he probably saw her in one of Noah’s and Sebastian’s magazines since they tended to have feminine tendencies and Dominic would often joke about them being gay. Never mind, he said. I believe you are in room thirty three. I can escort you.

Just then Hope was heard descending the stairs directly in front of the front desk. Hi there, she said putting on her best smile. Seeing a guest always made her feel better. I’m Hope Lovett; welcome.

Oh I’m so glad to finally meet you, the lady cried in excitement. She was an obvious fan of Hope’s as she left her luggage to shake her hand with enthusiasm. But when Hope touched her hand she noticed how limp and fragile it felt against her own; almost as if it was paper.

It’s nice to meet you too, Hope said with a warm smile.

I’m Caitlyn and I’ve been such a loyal reader of all your work.

Thank you.

Caitlyn turned to look at Dominic. Would you mind if she showed me my room?

Dominic smiled and nodded. Not at all. He knew that many of the guests here knew about Hope’s inn through her writing and her web site so most of them were fans of hers and it was always a joy to watch their reactions upon meeting a favorite author. Need help with the luggage?.

We can get it, thanks, Hope said.

Room thirty three, Dominic said as he tossed the room keys to Hope who caught it with one hand. She always took pride in the fact that they had actual keys to their inn rather than keycards like most hotels. She wanted this place to be as homey as possible.

She grabbed a suitcase and Caitlyn grabbed a much smaller tote bag; about the only thing she could handle, as they walked up the stairs.

Hope began to tell her about the inn and The Therapy Room and how there’s coffee and muffins every morning but plenty of affordable cafes on the island contrary to popular belief that kept their prices low to stay ahead of the competition.

They paused at the top of the staircase as Hope said, I doubt you eat that much anyway judging from that perfect figure.

Why thank you that is so kind. I don’t think it’s perfect though. Now you, you have a wonderful figure. Most of the other models I work with have to struggle to have your kind of body.

I knew I recognized you! Hope exclaimed suddenly feeling self conscious about her body when she realized Caitlyn was a model.

Well I’m still small stuff now, but I’m hoping to move up in the world so that when people see me there is no doubt as to who I am.

It takes time like anything, Hope said. But you can do it.

They arrived at room thirty three and Hope helped her move her luggage inside the beautiful, spacious room with the light floral wallpaper. There was queen-sized bed in the corner by the large window that overlooked the beach along with a small round table and three chairs surrounding it, a bureau opposite that and a closet and bathroom. The room smelled fresh and clean; reminding Caitlyn of a field of flowers in the spring. She figured it was the cleaning products or air freshener but when she walked to the table where a face filled with daffodils sat on top she discovered the flowers were real when they