Beach Rose Path, page 1
BEACH ROSE PATH
BARBARA MATTESON
Copyright © 2024 by Barbara Matteson, BEACH ROSE PATH
All rights reserved. Smashwords Edition
This is a fictional work. The names, characters, incidents, and locations are solely the concepts and products of the author’s imagination, or are used to create a fictitious story and should not be construed as real. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Published by 5 PRINCE PUBLISHING & BOOKS, LLC
PO Box 865, Arvada, CO 80001
www.5PrinceBooks.com
ISBN digital: 978-1-63112-3719
ISBN print: 978-1-63112-3726
Cover Credit: Marianne Nowicki
04232024.1
CONTENTS
Acknowledgments
Also by Barbara Matteson
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
Rate and Review
About the Author
Other Titles from 5 Prince Publishing
For my mother, Wanda Baszkiewicz Harvey,
who instilled in me a love of reading, which led to a love of writing.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you so much to everyone at 5 Prince Publishing. I always knew I had one book in me, and if it were not for Bernadette Soehner, my first book, The Perfect Mrs. Claus, would still be handwritten pages in an old steno book. And because of 5 Prince, I am now the proud author of book #2, Beach Rose Path. This also would not have been possible without the eagle-eyed editor Cate Byers who always made me laugh about any misspellings which always meant something totally opposite than what I wanted to say. Thank you, Cate, for your patience and professionalism--I have learned so much from you. Thank you all at 5 Prince for making my publishing dreams a reality!
ALSO BY BARBARA MATTESON
The Perfect Mrs. Claus
Beach Rose Path
CHAPTER ONE
“I’ve just been told, Char, when the new owner and General Manager comes later in the spring, he’s cleanin’ house. Bringin’ his own crew with him from some swanky golf club in Georgia.”
Hamish Falconer sat in his worn leather chair in the executive office at Castle Loch Country and Golf Club where he had been the General Manager for forty years. Even at age 73, he still maintained as much of his effervescence, energy, and Scottish accent as when he started as the assistant manager so many decades ago. His coal black hair had only a few threads of alabaster running through it, and it was still thick as when he was a young man, and combed neatly away from his face. His large, blueberry eyes were framed by heavy, dark eyebrows. Although still handsome, deep lines now crossed over his forehead and under his eyes, while a coarse salt-and-pepper mustache and beard covered his strong upper lip and jawline. Hamish continued to maintain a trim figure thanks to the many rounds of golf he loved to play each week, and at six and a half feet tall, he cut a most formidable figure.
Charlotte Templeton, Hamish’s long-time employee and friend, sat in a similar wing-backed chair on the opposite side of his desk. Charlotte couldn’t believe it had been over two decades since she had graduated from Boston’s Calloway Junior College with her fashion merchandising degree, and that Hamish Falconer, the revered General Manager of the Castle Loch Golf and Country Club had offered her a job as the ladies members pro shop buyer. In the twenty-five years they had worked together, Charlotte had come to consider Hamish more of a father figure than her boss.
Although her own brown hair was becoming more pearlescent, she felt she still maintained the enthusiasm of her younger self that had first interviewed to be the ladies’ golf wear buyer all those years ago. Her eyes were just as brown and bright, even though tiny lines now creased at the edges and upon her upper lip. She kept busy and took care of herself, and her 5’2” frame was still slender and athletic, due to being so busy and enjoying an occasional round of golf herself.
“I can’t say I’m surprised,” continued Hamish. “I hoped it wouldn’t happen, but I’d heard rumblings of the club going under new management. Rumors like that popped up here and there over my years here, but nothing ever came of it. Until now.”
Charlotte felt as if her heart would drop right out of her chest and through the floor of Hamish’s office. She had taken the ladies’ pro shop from a dusty basement to its own homey shed that she’d converted into the Loch Ladies’ Pro Shop. Charlotte’s merchandise was very popular, as she consistently consulted golf magazines and updated the wardrobe options from drab and functional to performance pretty. Her inventory always sold out, and the ladies constantly clamored for the newest arrivals, always praising Charlotte for her insights in not only functionality, but in clothes that made the ladies feel and look good. Pastel golf bags, gloves, cleats, and hats completed the ladies’ stylish ensembles.
A sharp needling of tears pierced Charlotte’s brown eyes. The news was ghastly and devastating. Not only was she losing her job, she was losing her home.
“I know it’s shocking, especially with what you’ve been through for the last few years. I know you have a lot of memories of your boys here.”
Your boys. Charlotte’s eyes could no longer hold back the tears at Hamish’s mention of her boys. Although they were no longer physically here, she felt them with her every moment in her little bungalow, a perk of the job, in which she had lived for over two decades. How was she supposed to leave her home?
“I’m sorry, Hamish. I don’t mean…” She wiped the tears from her eyes with the sleeve of her emerald green pullover, a gift from her boys.
Charlotte inhaled deeply, trying to compose herself, knowing that there was nothing she could do about the new management.
“So, when is our little world coming to an end?”
Hamish leaned back in his leather chair, its well-worn springs squeaking with his every movement. Charlotte could smell the comforting hint of the honey and lemon cleaner Hamish used daily on his beloved chair. His entire office was so very reminiscent of a den in a Scottish castle, with its highly polished woodwork shimmering in the rays of the sun that streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The walls were lined with shelves of books, all golf tomes, and where there were not bookshelves, the walls were adorned with paintings of famous golfers from various periods of time. His desk was masculine and large—a behemoth of a mahogany escritoire. Castle Loch was the sister golf club and course to Castle Inverness in the Scottish Highlands, and the sights and sounds of Scotland were clearly evident in this Massachusetts golf club.
“From what I hear, the new GM will start right before Memorial Day weekend, which is in about seven weeks. I just wanted to prepare you, Char. It’s better to know than not, and this way we can figure out a plan. Together. I will not be leaving you in any kind of lurch.”
“Well, I know what your plan is,” Charlotte said, her tears abating. Hamish had spoken often of returning to his beloved Scotland, and Charlotte knew this was his chance, especially because it was where Colin, Hamish’s son and daughter-in-law lived.
“Oh, you know me too well, Char,” he laughed, settling back into his old leather chair.
“I have missed Colin and now that he and Haleigh have given me a grandson, well, yes, it’s time for me to go home. For good,” he sighed.
“I’m so happy for you Hamish. Your heart has always truly been in Scotland.” Charlotte realized one day her beloved friend would return to his roots, and now that day was here.
Hamish rose from his chair and sat in the one next to Charlotte.
“I know that this is difficult for you. You’ve always been like a daughter to me, and I am going to make sure you’re taken care of as well. It’s my responsibility.”
“It’s no such thing, Hamish,” Charlotte replied solemnly. She took hold of his large and calloused hands.
“I made the decision to stay here. I could have left at any time, and I probably should have, but I was never ready. I have no choice now, and maybe this is actually a blessing in disguise. Things happen for a reason. I remember you telling me so many years ago when I did not get the buyer position at Howardson’s Emporium, which brought me to you, that when one door closes—”
“Another one opens,” he finished, and Charlotte felt his hands clasp tighter about hers.
“I think I might have a door that’s about to open for you, C
“I’d be the proverbial fish out of water in Scotland, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she said, smiling at her old friend. He would come up with an idea like that, she thought, watching the mischievous twinkle in his dark blue eyes.
“Aye, I’d love to take you with me, but I know America is your home, especially New England. So…” Hamish rose from the wing-back chair and returned to his old leather one on the opposite side of the desk. He slowly opened a drawer directly under the top of his desk and pulled out a green folder with the Castle Loch logo imprinted on it. He handed it across the desk to Charlotte.
“What’s this?” she asked, taking the folder.
“Your next challenge.”
“What are you talking about?” Charlotte could not imagine what the folder could possibly contain.
Hamish shut the desk drawer. “Charlotte, what you’ve done with Loch Ladies was nothing short of brilliant. Remember when it was a tiny corner in that dusty old basement of the men’s pro shop? In less than two years, not only did you update the inventory, but you also cleaned that old shed next to the clubhouse and created a paradise for the female members here. And you did it on your own. The success of Loch Ladies is all due to you. And I think you are up to the challenge of tackling something similar again. It’s all in that green folder.”
Charlotte opened the folder and found a tourist brochure. It had a huge lobster claw superimposed over views of the ocean.
“Lobster Claw, Maine? Are you sending me on that long-needed vacation?” She laughed at the name on the brochure, wondering how in the world a town had such a ridiculous name.
“An absolutely gorgeous place, if I do say so myself. Very reminiscent of Scotland, but that’s my humble opinion. My old friend Rory Ruskin ran a place up there, but his heart’s not it in any longer, and he’s returned to Nova Scotia to be back with his family.”
“Heart’s not in what, Hamish?” Charlotte asked, as this was sounding more cryptic by the moment. What in the world did Hamish have in mind for her? She suddenly noticed a roguish twinkle in his blueberry eyes.
“A store. A souvenir sort of place. Did very well at one time, but when Rory’s wife passed, ah, well, you know, I think she was the true heart and soul of the place, and he just couldn’t be there without her any longer.”
“So the place is empty? Why doesn’t he just sell it?” Charlotte asked.
“Can’t say I know, lass. All I do know is that it would be great to have the place occupied, and maybe get the store back up and running. Might be something you’d be interested in.” This was a statement, not a question.
“Hamish, I—I don’t know what to think. So much has happened so quickly.” Her little cottage on the green, the home she made with her boys, was no longer hers, and neither was Loch Ladies. Castle Loch held all of her beloved memories and now Hamish was talking about moving her to some crazy-sounding town in Maine.
“Char, I know it’s a lot. But the club as we know it is coming to an end, and we both must move on.” Hamish’s words were gentle but true. “Take home the folder and think it over, and we can talk again tomorrow. How’s that?”
“Thanks, Hamish. I promise I’ll read every word tonight.” Charlotte put the brochure back into the folder and let it rest on Hamish’s desk.
“Good girl.” She then chuckled to his reference of “girl,” as she was officially now a fifty-two-year-old woman.
Whether a situation was dire or delightful, Hamish Falconer could always bring optimism and a generous smile, which eased Charlotte tremendously.
Charlotte rose from her wing back chair, tucking the folder under her arm.
“Looks like you’re going to keep me busy this evening.” Charlotte walked to the other side of Hamish’s desk and placed a daughterly kiss on his bearded cheek. She could see the blush rise on his ruddy face which made her love him all the more.
CHAPTER TWO
Steam floated from the spout of the stainless-steel electric tea kettle. Instead of heading to her cottage, Charlotte had decided to return to Loch Ladies after her meeting with Hamish, wanting to spend as much time in the pro shop as possible before the new management descended upon it. She poured the scalding water into her favorite teacup that she kept in the shop—a delicate bone china cup painted with red and pink roses. It was part of her parents’ wedding china that Charlotte inherited and had planned to use for her own wedding someday. Every time she sipped tea from the cup, thoughts of what might have been flooded her mind, but especially today.
While Charlotte let her favorite peppermint green tea steep, she took a small key from the inside of a slim golf glove that she kept in a basket of miscellaneous junk under her computer. She pulled a small cedar box from under the counter, one she received from a local furniture store when she graduated from high school, a type of miniature hope chest. Charlotte inserted the little key into the lock. She opened the box and sorted through some of her life’s keepsakes—the tassels from the graduation hats from her high school and Calloway, a yellowed newspaper article detailing Princess Diana’s wedding dress, and a small black velvet box. She took the velvet box, cradled it in her hands, and gently pulled the lid open. Inside of the soft box sat a ring—her engagement ring. It was a beautiful two-carat, oval-cut emerald that shone like newly sprouted spring grass. The emerald was surrounded by twelve diamonds that twinkled like stars in a summer sky. It was breathtaking and stunning, but Charlotte felt the velvet box was a better place for it than her left ring finger. Landon and Peppe were no longer here, and this was a symbol of their future.
Charlotte’s cherished memories no longer brought deep heart-rending sorrow. She now basked in the comfort and contentment of knowing that even though she suffered tremendous losses, she also experienced great love. She was aware she could live in her happy and safe past, fantasizing about what life could have been like with Landon as her husband, but also very mindful that Landon and Peppe, their dog, were no longer in her life.
Charlotte gazed at the ring. The diamonds surrounding the emerald seemed to have an extra sparkle in the late afternoon sunshine that streamed through the shop’s windows. She watched the diamonds twinkle and wink in the sunshine, and she couldn’t help but smile at its beauty. It was too exquisite to be kept inside of the box, so Charlotte put the emerald on the fourth finger of her right hand, feeling she was ready to wear it, for a little while at least.
“Gorgeous” she said, extending her arm, admiring her ring. Charlotte looked around the shop; her shop. It was small, and she was proud of all the work she put into it and of its success. Her eye then caught a deep nick in the old wooden floorboards, and a smile graced Charlotte's face as she let her mind wander back to the day when she met the love of her life.
“Char, I can get someone to lift those boxes for you.”
Hamish Falconer had just signed off on five boxes of new women’s apparel for Loch Ladies Pro Shop. Charlotte reviewed the bill of goods to ensure all the items had arrived, and according to the paperwork, everything was in order.
“I’m good, Hamish. I’m going to open and unpack everything now instead of storing them. If you don’t mind handing me the box cutter, I can start getting things unpacked.” Charlotte loved nothing more than unboxing new items. Even though she had been at Castle Loch for twenty years, the excitement of the arrival of a new shipment never got old.
