Blue Moon Haven

Book 7: New Americana Series

by Janet Dailey

Genres: Women's Fiction

Synopsis

Can the good old-fashioned warmth of a rural small town make a broken family whole? New York Times bestselling author Janet Dailey explores the healing power of love and the enduring allure of the drive-in movie theater in the latest novel in her New Americana series …
Kelly Jenkins heads to bucolic Blue Moon Haven, Alabama, believing a new life will heal the two abandoned children in her care. Signing on to revive the drive-in theater seems like a worthy venture, until she discovers the property is in deep
disrepair. Still, spurred on by the elderly owner’s plea, Kelly takes on the renovation, beginning with an ancient tree that needs to come down—and unexpectedly bringing on the wrath of her reclusive neighbor …
Seeing Kelly take an ax to his little girl’s favorite tree is like being struck in the heart—whatever heart Seth Morgan has left after losing his daughter. With his own attempt to buy the old drive-in thwarted, Seth reluctantly steps in to help
Kelly, even offering her and her kids shelter in his home, a place that hasn’t seen a woman’s touch—or a child’s joyful laughter—in far too long …
Soon everyone is bound up in the fate of Blue Moon’s drive-in—and the new family taking root in town. Because it looks like the love blooming between Kelly and Seth just may rival any found on the silver screen …

Release date: April 25, 2023

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 368

Reader says this book is...: emotionally riveting (1) entertaining story (1) heartwarming (1) satisfying ending (1) terrific writing (1)

Sample

At age ten, Kelly Jenkins dreamed she would live in a quaint two-story country home with a red roof, operate a highly successful cotton candy business in her spacious backyard and fly fighter jets in air shows on the weekends (part-time, of course!) to the cheers of adoring crowds comprised of thousands.

At age thirty-four, Kelly, homeless, stood in a field of knee-high weeds in Blue Moon Haven, Alabama, with seventy-one dollars in the pocket of her ripped capris and two abandoned siblings—one of whom despised her—at her side.

Life had always had different plans than Kelly did, and the world hadn’t always been kind, but deep down, she still clung to the secret hope that things might one day improve.

“It has wheels.” Todd Campbell, ten years old, with the shrewd gaze of a middle-aged litigator, frowned up at her. “You said we’d never live in a place that had wheels again. You said when we moved here, there’d be a house.” His eyes narrowed. “You said—”

“Yep.” She nodded vigorously. “Yep, I know exactly what I said.”

And two weeks ago, when she’d emailed her (sorely lacking) résumé to Mae Bell Larkin, owner of the Blue Moon Haven Drive-In, and accepted a management position, that’s exactly what Kelly thought she would acquire—a home. That, along with a thriving drive-in–theater business exuding nostalgic appeal.

Instead, the massive sign, fourteen feet high and forty-eight feet wide, marking the drive-in’s entrance, was covered in moldy grime, and the large letters comprising BLUE MOON HAVEN DRIVE-IN were faded or dangling precariously. And the lot itself was even worse. Weeds and briars were everywhere; patches of them rustling in succession as though small, unseen creatures scurried about. Two massive projection screens, one obscured by the sprawling branches of a pecan tree, had gaping holes and seemed to be covered in the same grime that slicked the entrance sign they’d passed earlier. Leaves, cigarette butts, beer bottles and other debris littered the concessions building and one of the two tall projection booths slumped to the right as though it had a bum leg.

But the worst—the absolute worst—was the ancient, poky trailer slumping at the back edge of the lot, its metal surface glinting beneath the early-spring Alabama sun, heat rolling off it in hazy waves despite the morning chill still lingering in the air.

“‘Living quarters,’” Kelly said quietly. “‘Homey living quarters.’” She twiddled her fingers by her sides. “Homey to me meant home. House. Not a mobile home.” Cheeks heating, she winced. “I guess I should’ve ask—”

“Yeah, you should have.” Todd crossed his arms over his chest. “You should’ve asked about the structure, how many rooms, where it was located. You should’ve asked how much you’d be paid, if you’d get health insurance, bonuses, retirement.” He stamped his foot. “You didn’t ask anything, did you?”

Gifted. Kelly grunted. That’s what the school psychologist had told her six months ago when she’d been called to Todd’s elementary school to discuss his unruly behavior. Behavior that had strangely involved Todd dressing down his new seventh-grade teacher (Todd had recently skipped two grades) for having made an absentminded mistake in a mathematical equation on a worksheet he’d given the class to complete. Todd had thrown his math worksheet and laptop out of the classroom window, then marched to the principal’s office, reported the teacher as incompetent and demanded he be reassigned to another class.

All of this had happened because Todd was intellectually gifted far beyond his years, the school psychologist had said. He possessed an unusual combination of creativity, insight and innovation. Unfortunately, according to the psychologist, Todd’s personality also included extreme sensitivity, a keen sense of justice and a volatile temper.

Kelly shook her head. Too bad empathy and politeness didn’t seem to be in as plentiful supply at the moment.

But . . . considering all Todd had lost over the past year, most especially his mother and father, his anger was to be expected and easily forgiven.

“I did ask, Todd. I’m not completely inept.” She breathed deep. Choked back her pride. Counted to ten. “I asked how many rooms and where it was located. I asked about all those things, except for the structure part. But the simple truth is, I had no choice but to move on from where we were. You’re incredibly intelligent, and I know you’d understand if you knew all the details, but there are some grown-up things I can’t discuss with you.”

Like the fact that her former boss had been a micromanaging dictator with no heart, focused on dollars and cents instead of compassion and rewarding hard work. Of the twenty-five job applications she’d submitted, only one job—this one, in fact—had resulted in a callback. With no income and two extra mouths to feed, she’d had no choice but to . . .

“I need you to trust that I made the only decision I could for us at the time,” she said softly.

A soft breeze rolled over the empty lot, ruffling Todd’s thick hair. His brown eyes glistened, and his chin trembled.

Heart aching, she reached out, smoothing back his bangs with her fingertips. He flinched and jerked away.

“I’m sorry,” Kelly said. “I know this isn’t what you expected. What either of us expected, really. But it doesn’t have to be bad. It can be whatever we make it.” She studied his rigid back, then set her shoulders and smiled. “All we have to do is look to the birds.”

He eyed her over his shoulder, examining her from head to toe as though she were a piece of crap stuck to the toe of his well-worn tennis shoe.

“From the Good Book,” she prompted. “Birds are always provided for and never worry about tomorrow. Your mom used to say it all the time. We just gotta be optimistic.”

Pain flashed in his eyes. He scowled, lifted his chin, then bit out, “This place is abandoned. There aren’t any birds out here.”

She laughed. “Of course, there are. There’s”—she tipped her head back and scanned the blue sky—“well, there’s . . .”

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. No wings, no beaks, no chirps. Not even a cloud.

A small hand tugged the hem of Kelly’s T-shirt. Daisy, Todd’s six-year-old sister, blinked her thick eyelashes and crooked her small finger. Over the past year, she rarely spoke, and when she did, it was only to Kelly or Todd. Daisy’s words were as precious and valuable as she herself was to Kelly.

Kelly bent, placing her ear close to Daisy’s mouth, and waited for Daisy’s little lips to brush her cheek.

“Over there,” she whispered softly. So softly, Kelly barely caught it. Then Daisy, clutching her well-loved doll named Cassie to her chest with one hand, pointed toward the tree line in the distance.

Lo and behold, a black-and-gray figure emerged, leaping from the towering tip of a pine tree, flapping its wings and ascending high above the weedy lot.

“Hot dog!” Kelly kissed Daisy’s cheek, nudged Todd with her elbow and bounced up and down as if her exuberance alone would ignite a spark of interest in Todd. “Daisy spotted one right over there. Look at that beauty go. She knows how to live. Spreading her wings, soaring without a care. A strong red-tailed hawk who has tossed away her worries and is poised to conquer the world.”

Todd glanced at the bird, then smirked. “That’s a turkey vulture.”

Kelly stopped bouncing. “Oh.”

The vulture circled them twice on the swift breeze, then glided away over a thick clump of trees in the distance. The spring wind picked up, whistling over the abandoned lot, and the weeds started rustling again, the strange scratching sounds of creatures hidden among the overgrown grass growing closer and closer.

Biting her lip, Kelly hugged Daisy close to her side. “I think we need to pay our new boss, Mae Bell Larkin, a visit.”

The drive into town didn’t take very long. Blue Moon Haven Drive-In was located only five minutes from the Blue Moon city limits and the drive through rural fields, colorful wildflowers and budding trees was just pretty enough to lift Kelly’s spirits.

Along Center Street, the heart of Blue Moon’s quaint downtown, small mom-and-pop shops with old-fashioned storefronts lined each side of the road; cherry trees, their blossoms still closed in anticipation of full-fledged spring, waved their graceful limbs in the light breeze; a three-tiered fountain stood confidently in the center of a roundabout, though it remained inactive. A few people milled about the sidewalks, and a golden retriever, barking playfully, shot across a grassy lawn in pursuit of a squirrel.

Kelly grinned. Sweet heaven, the town looked like the feature photograph in Best Homes and Towns magazine. This was why, from the moment it had snagged her attention, she’d clicked once-a-waking-hour, every day, on the ad for an assistant manager of Blue Moon Haven Drive-In. Even the owner’s name, Mae Bell Larkin, seemed to hold promise in each syllable. She’d whispered it and the name of the town over and over during the four-hour drive from Birmingham to Blue Moon, imagining all of the warmth, beauty and comfort that awaited them. And maybe, just maybe, Mae Bell Larkin and her drive-in would offer the solid foundation she’d desired all of her life.

“In a quarter mile, turn left onto 1522 Silver Stay Way,” chimed a feminine voice from the GPS navigation system of the car’s dashboard.

Kelly slowed the car, turned on her blinker and maneuvered the tight turn. “You got to admit, it’s beautiful country out here. I saw an old-fashioned candy shop back there called Tully’s Treats. Bet they have all kinds of sugary goodies.” She glanced in the rearview mirror. “Whatcha think, guys?”

Daisy sucked her thumb in her booster seat and smoothed her hand over her doll’s ragged curls, her eyes drooping heavily. Todd, occupying the passenger seat, glared down at his cell phone, his fingers moving wildly over the screen as he played a video game, the steady pound of a heavy beat emanating from the earbuds stuffed in his ears.

She sighed. Todd had never been excited about living on a drive-in–theater lot. Though she’d been optimistic about the prospect of waking up to a huge silver screen full of happy endings each day, Daisy and Todd had remained mute. And rightfully so, it seemed, considering their new “homey living quarters” was a relic, the drive-in–theater lot had been neglected for years, and the owner had not only lied to her, but—

“She lives in a nursing home?” Todd yanked the earbuds from his ears and shot upright in the passenger seat. “You sure this is the right place?”

Mouth gaping, Kelly pulled into a parking space in front of a brick building with a wide front porch, long wheelchair ramp and wooden sign emblazoned with the words: SILVER STAY. WELCOME TO BLUE MOON’S MOST PRESTIGIOUS SENIOR-LIVING GETAWAY!

“I . . .” She dug in her pocket, withdrew a small piece of paper and read the address she’d scrawled hours earlier. “1522 Silver Stay Way.” Her stomach churned. “Silver Stay.” Oh, no. What had she gotten herself into? “Yes. This seems to be it.”

Todd rolled his eyes. “At this point, it’s obvious that you didn’t ask enough questions about this job before accepting it.”

Kelly squeezed her eyes shut and drummed her fingertips on the steering wheel. “Chances are, she probably owns this place, too.” She opened her eyes and smiled despite the judgmental daggers in Todd’s gaze. “Lots of people dabble in different occupations and she chooses to spend her days caring for others. That’s a noble pursuit I admire.” She opened her door. “Now, get out. We’re going inside so I can have a chat with Mrs. Larkin.”

By the time Kelly helped Daisy from her booster seat, took her warm hand in hers and started up the metal wheelchair ramp, Todd had already trudged into the lobby. The wood flooring of the front porch creaked under Kelly’s feet, and she lingered for a moment, taking in its wide wicker chairs and wrought iron tables. There was a clear view of the inactive fountain and tiny shops to the left and the curvy road leading to the drive-in could be seen to the right, just beyond a field full of green grass and the last of dead winter brush.

“There’s a decent view out here on the porch, but I bet those chairs are a bit stiff and”—Kelly wrinkled her nose—“those empty tables could use a little sprucing up. If someone took care of the drab seating area, it might cheer the residents up a bit. Whatcha think?”

Daisy blinked up at her and remained silent.

“You’re right. That’s not what we’re here for.” Kelly winked. “Thank you for keeping me on track.”

Squeezing Daisy’s hand, she opened the front door of the nursing home and joined Todd in the lobby. An unpleasant mix of odors (apple juice, urine and bleach, maybe?) wafted around the open room. Two elderly men sat in wheelchairs in front of a window, one of them eating what looked like yellow gelatin, most of which fell off his spoon onto his lap.

The other man scowled at them, banged his fist on the arm of his wheelchair and shouted, “Where’s my root beer?”

“Where’s the prestige?” Todd returned.

A nurse, seated at a table directly in front of him, hung up the phone, which immediately began to ring again, and blew her frazzled hair out of her face. “I’m sorry, son, what did you say?”

Todd pursed his lips. “Your sign says, ‘Welcome to Blue Moon’s most prestigious senior-living getaway.’ So, where’s the prestige? And where’s that guy’s root beer? He’s been shouting for it ever since I came in here, and you haven’t even bothered to answer him. Not to mention the other guy’s losing half his food. You could get off the phone and help him, you know.”

The nurse’s mouth tightened. “Excuse me?”

“Exactly.” Todd scowled. “Excuse y—”

Kelly clamped her hand over Todd’s mouth. Her face flamed. “I-I’m very sorry.” She forced a nervous smile, released Todd’s mouth and ruffled his hair. “He . . . well, he’s a bit outspoken for his age.”

“‘Outspoken’?” The nurse glared at Todd. “I’d say he’s in need of a good spanking. He’s a right bossy butt if you ask me.”

“I’m too old to be spanked.” Todd’s mouth twisted with disdain. “And ‘bossy butt’ is a disappointingly rudimentary insult for someone your age.”

Root beer man guffawed. “Get her, kid. And while you’re at it, get me out of here. This place is a dump with bad service. Baaaaaad service!” He wheeled himself toward the front door. “I’m getting the hell outta here.”

“Wonderful! See what you’ve done?” The nurse took two steps around the counter, then hesitated as the phone continued ringing, her head swiveling back and forth between the phone and the man who struggled to open the front door. “I had him halfway calm until you”—she stabbed her finger at Todd—“started with your backtalk and criticism.” Decision made, she abandoned the ringing phone and jogged over to the front door, took hold of the man’s wheelchair and tugged him away from the door. “Mr. Haggart, I told you I’d bring you a root beer as soon as I had a free moment. We’re short-staffed today and I’m doing the best I can.”

“Ain’t good enough.” Mr. Haggart swatted her hand away, wheeled back to the door and wrapped his palm tighter around the door handle. “Baaaaaad service! I want a root beer and a cigarette.”

“You know cigarettes aren’t allowed.” The nurse pulled harder on his wheelchair. “And they’re bad for you anyway.”

He elbowed her. “This place is what’s bad for me, woman!”

“Please, Mr. Haggart, your son will have a fit if you take off again. Remember how angry and afraid he was last time?”

“Don’t care, woman.”

The two continued struggling with the door, the wheelchair and each other.

Kelly squatted beside Todd and gripped his shoulders. “That was incredibly rude, what you just did. You’ve got to learn to control your temper. It’s inappropriate to speak to adults that way.”

He shrugged. “I was right.”

“It doesn’t matter whether you were right or not,” Kelly said in a low tone. She eyed the two adults still struggling with the front door. “You can’t just go around saying whatever you think, whenever you think it. It’s not always polite or appropriate.”

The nurse managed to unfurl Mr. Haggart’s hand from the door handle, then wheeled him back to his former position by the window. Disappointment flooded the older man’s features, the phone began ringing again and moisture gathered in the corners of the nurse’s eyes.

Sympathy for both of them flooded through Kelly. She squeezed Todd’s shoulders. “Just stay quiet and let me handle things from here.”

The nurse jogged back to the counter and answered the ringing phone, held a brief conversation regarding the delayed delivery of supplies, then hung up and dragged a hand through her disheveled hair.

“Look, I’m . . .” Hesitantly Kelly approached the counter. “I really am sorry about this, and I can see you’re overwhelmed right now, so I’ll try to be brief. I’m looking for Mrs. Mae Bell Larkin.”

The nurse sighed. “Are you family?”

“No. Mrs. Larkin’s my new boss. Is she available to see me?”

A strange expression crossed the nurse’s face. “Oh, she’s available. New boss of what?”

“I’m a new hire for the Blue Moon Haven Drive-In.” The nurse stared, so Kelly added, “You know, the one right outside of town?”

“I know where—and what—it is. It’s a dumpy relic and the only blight on our otherwise-immaculate town. Folks have been trying to raze it for several years now. Mae Bell’s the only one who refuses to see reason.” She eyed Kelly a moment longer, then slid a clipboard across the counter and tapped her fingernail on the paper. “Print and sign your name here. Add the time and date here. And I’ll need to see some identification.”

Kelly did as directed, then tapped the pen on the bold heading of the paper. “‘Visitors Log’?” She rubbed her temple, where a painful throbbing had begun. “Is Mrs. Larkin a patient?”

The nurse glanced at Todd, then smiled in smug satisfaction. “Yes. Your new boss lives in room twelve.” She pointed at a hallway to Kelly’s left. “Halfway down that hall.”

Fighting back the urge to crumple into a heap on the slick linoleum floor, Kelly took Daisy’s hand in hers again, headed down the wide hallway and motioned for Todd to follow her.

Their tennis shoes squeaked along the polished linoleum, jerking to a halt when sorrowful wails echoed against the closed door of a patient room on the right. A fluorescent light flickered overhead and muted sounds from a TV, peppered with sporadic coughs, pierced the air.

Daisy tugged Kelly’s hand, pulling her to a stop, then pointed at a door where the number 12 was formed in metal letters.

“Yep. This must be it. Thank you, Daisy.” Kelly hesitated briefly, then lifted her balled fist and knocked.

A feminine voice, light, airy and formal, responded from the other side of the door. “If you possess a sense of humor and a healthy dose of ingenuity, you may enter. If you lack either, turn about and depart, please.”

Kelly fiddled with the seam of her capris. “I have a sense of humor,” she called out.

Wishing for the umpteenth time she’d had the money and opportunity to attend community college sixteen years ago, she glanced up at the tiled ceiling and tried to recall where she’d left off in the old pocket dictionary she kept stuffed in the cramped glove compartment of her car. She’d bought it right after her visit with the school psychologist. The dictionary had cost her fifty cents at a flea market near the mobile home park where she and the kids had lived, and she’d carried it to her car in her palms, as though it were a twenty-five-ounce diamond, in hopes it would help bridge the communication gap between her and Todd.

Anomaly, bucolic, catharsis, dogma, ethereal . . . Her shoulders slumped. She’d memorized all of those and many more words, but she hadn’t made it to the I’s yet. Or . . . good grief, maybe ahn-gee-new-ity started with an A instead?

The door swept open on a sweet burst of floral perfume. A tall woman, perhaps seventysomething, dressed in a silky leopard print pants suit, purple heels a mile high and an air of confidence, looked down at them. Diamond studs glinted in her earlobes beneath the fluorescent lights, and a midnight black scarf secured her long pearl-white hair away from her powdered face in an elegant bun. Piano music played beyond her, flowing from the room in soft, tinkling chimes.

“I have a sense of humor,” Kelly repeated.

The woman—Mae Bell Larkin, Kelly presumed—raised one immaculately manicured eyebrow. “And ingenuity?”

Kelly rubbed her cheek, her skin hot against her fingertips. “Whatever it is, I got that, too.”

Todd scoffed. “It means intelligent and origina—”

“What’d I tell you earlier?” Kelly asked through a tight smile.

“That it doesn’t matter if I’m right or not,” he recited dully. “That I can’t go around saying whatever I think, whenever I think it. That it’s not always polite or appropriate.”

The scorching heat . . .