The Nantucket Inn (Nantucket Beach Plum Cove #1) - Pamela M. Kelley Page 0,1

savings account still, but Lisa knew she’d have to cut way back on her normal spending habits to make the money stretch. By her calculations, if she did that, she might be able to make it stretch for almost two years, if she was lucky.

She wasn’t too worried at the time though, as she figured she’d be able to get a job and the savings could be her safety cushion. But, she quickly found out that the market for fifty-something women with no recent work experience was nonexistent. And Nantucket was a small town, with limited opportunities.

She could possibly get a job as a cashier in one of the shops, but those paid minimum wage, which wouldn’t go far. Restaurant work paid better. She knew that servers could do very well on tips, but she’d never worked in a restaurant and everyone wanted experience. It was almost time for her to make a big decision, one that she’d been putting off for as long as possible.

She sighed as she closed her laptop, stood up and peeked in the oven. The artichoke and spinach casserole was just beginning to bubble. In a few more minutes, the cheese topping would be golden brown and it would be done. Her two best friends, Paige and Susan, should be along any minute. They’d suggested going out to dinner, but she’d talked them into having appetizers at her house instead before they went downtown for the festive Nantucket Christmas Stroll.

It was always held the first weekend in December, and they looked forward to it every year. She’d been living on the island for over thirty years now and the stroll had been around even longer than that. It had started as a way for local shops to drum up a bit of business in the off-season and to prevent the locals from doing all their shopping off-island. It always felt like the official kickoff to the Christmas season.

Lisa stepped outside to check her Christmas decorations before her friends arrived. She’d just decorated the house earlier that day. She took a deep breath as she surveyed the house. Nantucket Sound was just a few hundred yards away, and she could hear the waves as they crashed on the beach, a sound that she always found soothing. The air was cool and crisp, and she could smell a whiff of smoke coming from the fireplace of the house next door. She breathed in deeply as a gust of salty air blew her shoulder length hair back. She heard footsteps behind her and turned to see Paige and Sue coming down the walk.

“The house looks gorgeous! Where did you find that blue wreath? I love it!” Paige exclaimed.

“Do you really like it? I made it this morning.” She’d walked along the beach and collected scallop shells and sea glass and used fine wire to wrap it around several pieces of driftwood that she’d glued into a circle and spray painted a pale blue. A snowy white bow at the top was the final touch. It had been a fun project, and she’d been pleased by how well it had turned out.

“It looks like you bought it at a fancy boutique,” Sue said. “I brought my baked scallops,” she added as Lisa opened the front door and they followed her inside. Paige was holding a platter and set it on the kitchen island and removed the tin foil cover. A selection of cheeses and sliced salami surrounded a small bowl of spiced nuts. She reached into her tote bag and pulled out a bottle of red wine.

“Peter said this one is supposed to be good. I haven’t tried it yet.” Peter Bradford was about their age and owned Bradford’s Liquors, which was the only place to buy alcohol in Beach Plum Cove, the area of Nantucket where they all lived. Lisa found a wine opener and poured them each a glass. She set the bubbling spinach and artichoke dip in the middle of the island and opened a box of crackers to serve with it.

They sat around the island, nibbling on everything as they sipped their wine. Sue’s baked scallops were buttery, fresh and sweet, and Lisa was glad to see that her dip was a hit. When they were just about done, she brought up the subject that she’d been putting off as long as she could.

“If you were to use a realtor who would you go with? Missy Cunningham or Trevor Eldridge?”

Paige raised her eyebrows, “Who needs