Page 86 of Moonlit Hideaway
It believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things…
Chapter Thirty-Two
One year later …
Sierra was late. A year had passed since she’d stepped off the ferry as the dull Jane Dolan with her bad dye job and driving an old beat-up truck. Now, she was the local celebrity, and every appearance around town was public. Not only was she still the reigning pop star at the top of the charts, but she was also a philanthropist with a string of successful businesses.
She was also a recent widow. Three months ago, her mob boss husband, Marco, was indicted when he left the nursing home against medical advice. He never completely recovered from his near-drowning and head injury, but he couldn’t leave well alone. He tried to hire a hitman from his sickbed to take out Hank. As luck would have it, Liam Walsh, the shady contractor who worked as a lookout for the mob, bungled the job on purpose. Unbeknownst to Marco, Liam had been recruited by Agents Reed and Patterson to inform on the various criminals he worked for. Marco suffered a heart attack when hediscovered that the family had pinned all their crimes on him. Already partially paralyzed and confined to a wheelchair, he died unmourned and alone, leaving Sierra free to marry the love of her life, Hank Whitman, innkeeper and hero.
“Sierra, are you almost ready?” Emma peeked into the bathroom where Sierra was arranging her new costume—a shimmering neon-colored outfit—a pair of sequined hot pants underneath puffs of tulle and an elegant lace top with silvery white knee-high boots. She hung the silver-and-turquoise necklace she’d bought from the thrift shop her fast day on the island around her neck. Something blue.
“How do I look?” She pinned her once-again blond hair, arranging the locks so the pillbox hat perched at a jaunty angle. Something borrowed. And attached her mother’s veil to the rim to cover her face. Something old.
“Awesome as always.” Emma, who was now a high school senior, was dressed in a similar outfit since they were doing a duet as the opener to Harvestfest’s evening talent show. In addition, she wore the tennis bracelet Sierra gifted her every time she sang, confident that it would make her singing as flawless as the diamonds hugging her wrist.
Once fixed up, Sierra put the finishing touches to her makeup. “Is your father ready?”
“Dad’s been ready for hours,” Emma said. “I’m sure he’s staked out a seat near the front with Gran and your mom and sisters.”
“I wonder how my mother is enjoying this rustic festival.” Sierra giggled, knowing her socialite mother had no one to compete with regarding fashion, style, and flashy jewelry. Well, maybe her half-sisters, Gloria and Dana, were wearing their usual blinding arrays of diamonds and designer labels utterly out of place amidst the homespun charm.
Harvestfest was in full swing at the newly constructed pavilion within view of the lighthouse and beach. Handmade booths laden with wares from local artisans lined the grounds while children scampered about in colorful costumes. The air was filled with the mouthwatering scents of roasted nuts, buttery popcorn, and sweet apple cider. Hay bales served as seating in between pumpkins decorated with silly faces and wearing funny hats.
“I’m nervous,” Emma said as they walked between the booths selling arts and crafts, food and drink, and approached the wooden stage. “Even though we played together last year, everyone expects more of me this year. Especially since it’s you and Dad’s wedding day.”
Sierra had literally dropped into the festival a year ago while Marco was being transferred to a long-term care facility. She’d sped down Highway 12 and caught a speedboat to the island, catching Emma right before the instrumental. But today, Emma would be headlining the festival again.
She hugged the young songstress. “We can’t wait for your solo, and you’ll be fabulous.”
Sierra wondered where Hank would be lurking. This wasn’t a traditional wedding where the bride walked down the aisle. Instead, she would be jumping down from the stage. The entire town was invited, along with any tourists who happened to be vacationing on the island.
She smiled as a toddler dressed as a pumpkin waddled past her, his chubby fist closed around a cloud of pink cotton candy. They set their guitar cases on a hay bale behind the stage just as the mayor finished his speech.
“Oh, my, we’re next,” Emma groaned. She plucked her strings, worried they were out of tune when she’d already checked the tuning multiple times.
Sierra put a calming hand on the teen.
“You’re going to be amazing,” said Sierra, giving her an encouraging smile. “Just picture everyone in their underwear if you get nervous. That’s my trick!”
Emma laughed, looking slightly more relaxed. “I wish I had your confidence. I’ve dreamed of this my whole life. What if I mess up the lyrics or go off-key?”
“You know this song backward and forwards,” Sierra said firmly, holding Emma’s wrist where the tennis bracelet shimmered in all its glory. “You’ve put in the work. Now it’s time to go out there and have fun!”
Just then, Sheriff Davis poked her head backstage. “Showtime, ladies. Knock them dead.”
Sierra gave Emma’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze as they took their places behind the microphone. “You’ve got this. Just have fun!”
Once the song started and the drumline rolled, Emma’s nerves transformed into excited energy, and her voice rang out clear and strong while Sierra rocked out on her guitar. They danced and gyrated between the lyrics, and the audience clapped along, families and shopkeepers swept up in the moment. Sierra joined in the choruses, blending her sultry tones with Emma’s pure soprano.
She spotted Hank standing in the back, proud and handsome in his crisp white shirt and black bow tie slightly askew beneath his strong chin. His worn Wranglers hugged lean hips while muscular arms stretched the sleeves of a sleek dinner jacket. There was no hiding the heart-stopping smile crinkling in his gorgeous storm-cloud eyes, drinking her in.
Sierra’s pulse quickened with love and anticipation. However humble this stage, however small this crowd—nothing mattered as long as that beloved figure waited in the wings for her. In him, she’d finally found a lasting home where she belonged.
The last notes crescendoed to a climax of raw energy, with the crowd leaping to their feet, filling the pavilion with cheers and whistles. Sierra joined hands with Emma, raising them as they curtsied to the hometown crowd. Hank had his hands cupped around his mouth as he hooted for his “girls.” Catching her eye, he gave a proud thumbs up.
Sierra threw her arms around Emma. “See, you’re a natural. They loved you.”
Emma beamed. “I just kept picturing Mayor Winston in his underwear, and then everything felt easy.”
