The Bookstore at Holiday Bay: Once Upon a Harvest Moon

Book 5: The Bookstore at Holiday Bay

by Kathi Daley

Genres: Animal Cozy Mysteries; Cozy Mystery; Craft & Hobby Cozy Mysteries

Synopsis

When Lou Prescott bought the bookstore at Holiday Bay, she wanted it to be so much more than a quaint seaside business. She wanted it to be home to the cozy gathering of friends, she knew in her heart, would come together to share their lives, their hardships, and their victories.

With the change of the seasons, comes shorter days, cozy fireside get-togethers in the courtyard, and a new mystery for Lou and her group of amateur sleuths to solve.

 

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Release date: August 20, 2024

Publisher: Kathi Daley Books

Print pages: 209

Reader says this book is...: entertaining story (1) escapist/easy read (1) unexpected twists (1)

Sample

Chapter 1

“Do you remember sixteen?” Astoria Walton, owner of Uncorked, the wine bar in the
courtyard shared by Firehouse Books and three other businesses, asked the women who’d
gathered for Wednesday night’s Senior Women’s Group.
“Twenty sixteen?” I asked, unsure of what Astoria was really asking.
“No. Do you remember being sixteen?” Astoria clarified, looking me in the eye. “I’m not
asking if you have memories of things that happened when you were sixteen, but if you really
remember.”
I hesitated, unsure of how to respond.
Astoria continued. “Close your eyes. See if you can remember what you thought and what
you felt. Transport yourself in your mind to your sixteenth summer. What song did you listen to
over and over again? Who was your best friend? Your worst enemy? What were they like? Can
you remember your boldest dream and your biggest fear? Can you remember the things that
brought you joy and the things that caused you stress and unhappiness?”
She took a breath and then continued. It seemed apparent that she’d had reason to give this
some thought. “Can you conjure up an image that feels real to you? I’m not talking about
something major like a death in the family. I’m talking about the everyday ups and downs of
being sixteen. Can you remember going to a party and feeling awkward? Can you remember
trying on a new bathing suit and feeling fat? Can you remember having a zit for picture day or
being paired with the homecoming king in biology and feeling like your tongue had grown three
sizes too large when you tried to talk to him? Can you remember putting on a brave face but
being terrified that you were the only one who felt that way?”
“River Coleston,” I said as the image of a cocky smile beneath bright blue eyes flashed
through my mind. “Huge crush, totally out of my league. We both volunteered for the prom
committee and really seemed to connect. I was sure he was going to ask me to go with him. I
mean, we had, after all, just spent a month together working on themes, decorations, and songs.
But in the end, he went with stupid Debby Mossberger, and I volunteered for the refreshment
table.”

“Lou may not have been able to nail down her super hunk crush, but being stuck serving
refreshments isn’t the worst thing that might occur on one’s prom night,” Savannah said.
Savannah Garrison was an academic who had never married, and I was interested in hearing
the rest of the story. “Care to elaborate?” I asked.
“Not really.” She hesitated before remarking that she had been the target of a particularly
lame joke.
“My prom was the thing fantasies are made of,” Ethel Covington, owner of a craft shop
named A Bit of This and That, said. “But you know, I honestly barely remember it.”
“It does seem to be true that memories that contain pain do tend to be a lot more vivid than
memories that were nothing but pleasant,” I agreed.
“How about your favorite song?” Astoria said, forging forward.
“During my month of delusion, when I was sure I was destined to become Mrs. River
Coleston, I listened to Puppy Love by Donny Osmond until I nearly wore the vinyl out,” I
answered. “After learning that River didn’t consider us anything other than just friends and he
was really in love with Debby, I switched my song to Ben by Michael Jackson.”
“Wasn’t that song about a rat?” my friend and business partner, Velma Crawford, asked.
I shrugged. “It seemed to fit my mood at the time.”
Everyone laughed, but I could still feel the longing in my teenage heart.
“I definitely remember that summer,” Savannah said to the group. “I’m really not sure I
understand why you’re asking about simple memories versus major turning points, but, for me, I
really do think that my sixteenth summer was one of the major turning points in my life.”
“What happened?” I asked, curious all the same.
Her face softened as she seemed to transport herself back in time. “I had big plans that
summer. My best friend, Loreli, got a new car, or at least a “new-to-her” used car, for her
birthday, and we were finally going to have the freedom we’d been dreaming of since we were in
kindergarten together. Loreli was dating a boy named Evan, and Evan’s best friend was a sweet
guy named Jeremiah. Loreli and I had big plans for our lives. She planned to hook me up with
Jeremiah, and then the four of us would party the summer away together. In my mind, my future
was set. Jeremiah and I would hit it off, date through high school, get married, have a passel of
kids, move in next door to Loreli and Evan and their passel of kids, and we’d all live happily
ever after.”
“I take it that isn’t what happened,” Velma said.
Savannah shook her head. “No. That isn’t what happened. The day after school was out for
the summer, my parents announced that they were sending me to stay with my mother’s best
friend, Lizzy. Since Lizzy lived at the beach, my parents made it sound like they had just offered
me the opportunity of a lifetime, but I wasn’t having any of it. I had big plans for the summer.
Plans I wasn’t willing to give up. I cried, argued, and begged until I was blue in the face, but in
the end, my feelings about how I would spend my summer didn’t seem to matter. I was sent to
Florida, and my world, as I knew it, ended abruptly. Not only was I sure my life was over, but I
was sure that all my friends would have moved on and forgotten all about me by the time I got

home. Even more importantly, I was sure Jeremiah would have moved on and forgotten about me
by the time I got home.”
“Did he?” I asked.
“No. But it didn’t matter. As it turned out, summer at the beach with Lizzy was simply a way
to keep me occupied while my parents worked out the problems in their marriage. Problems they
weren’t able to resolve. When I returned home in the fall, my mother packed us up, and we
moved in with my Aunt Jean, who lived in Boston, and I never saw Loreli or Jeremiah again.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said. “That must have been really hard.”
She shrugged. “It was, but in the end, I suppose it worked out the way it was always
supposed to. My parents were very different people. I’m not sure that happily ever after had ever
been in the cards for them. At the time, I was devastated, but now that I have some perspective, I
can see that things worked out the way they needed to.”
I knew that Savannah had gone on to live a life steeped in academia. Her Aunt Jean was an
English professor at a major university, and Savannah followed in her footsteps, although
Savannah’s focus was on history. If her parents hadn’t split up and if she hadn’t been torn away
from her friends, might her life have turned out differently? At this point, I guess there was no
way to really know.
“My sixteenth summer was all about Billy Eldridge,” Astoria shared after the conversation
had paused. “Now, there was a boy you’d remember. Long, dark hair that curled wildly over his
ears. The bluest eyes and biggest smile I’d ever seen. From the moment I first saw him fishing
there on the dock close to my home, I knew I wanted him to be my first.”
“Was he?” I asked.
She grinned. “Yes, Billy was my first. Ours was a short-lived affair, but I think he became the
standard by which I’ve always measured all men, even to this day.”
In my mind, that explained a lot. “What about you?” I asked Velma. “You lived here in
Holiday Bay when you were a kid.”
“I did.” She tapped her index finger against her chin. “I seem to remember it as being a good
summer. I worked part-time at this little pizza parlor near the main beach at the end of Bayside
Avenue. It was a decent job, not a lot of hours, but I got tips, so I always seemed to have a few
dollars in my pocket. When I wasn’t at the pizza parlor, I was on the beach, working on my tan.”
She ran a hand over her slightly wrinkled cheek. “If I knew then what I know now about sun
damage, I might not have selected factor two tanning oil as my sunscreen of choice.”
“I did the same thing,” Astoria joined in.
“Boyfriend?” Ethel asked Velma.
“A few. I was in a phase in my love life where I’d go out with a guy for a couple weeks, we’d
have an epic breakup that would leave me crying next to my stereo as I played the heartbreaker
of the moment, and then I’d go to a party, meet a new guy, and start the cycle all over again.”
If my memory was correct, I’d had a similar phase during my teenage years.
Velma smiled. “I had long, long hair that trailed down my back past my waist. I spent a lot of
time washing, brushing, and styling it. It was beautiful and kind of my thing, and then my sister,

Reggie, convinced me to allow her to give me bangs.” She laughed. “Talk about a bad idea. She
made such a mess that my mom took me to the hairdresser and had her cut most of it off.”
“You have a sister?” Savannah asked. “I don’t think you’ve ever mentioned her.”
She shrugged. “We had a falling out a very long time ago. I haven’t seen her in years.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m sure that must be hard.”
She shrugged. “It is what it is.”
I wanted to say more but decided it wasn’t my place to do so.
“How about you?” I asked Ethel. “What was your sixteenth summer like?”
She paused and scrunched up her face. It seemed she was trying to remember. “I was already
dating Gary,” she referred to the man she was still married to, “so I never really went through the
cycle of new love followed by a bad breakup, moving on, and starting again, that many do. Not
that we didn’t have spats and not that I didn’t sit in my room and listen to the same sorts of songs
you’ve all mentioned, but I don’t think I ever really experienced the highs and lows of love like
some. I did have a job at the local newspaper. I was the one to call if you didn’t receive your
newspaper.” She smiled. “It sounds like an easy job, but some folks got really intense if their
newspaper was late.”
“My dad was that way,” Velma chuckled. “I remember that he made our paperboy cry on
more than one occasion.”
“What about the rest of the summer?” Astoria asked. “When you weren’t at work?”
“The job was just three hours in the late afternoon, so I also babysat.” She frowned. “I had
friends but don’t remember hanging out with them all that much. I was a good student who did
homework in the evenings and babysat during the school year. Over the summer, I worked at the
newspaper, took on babysitting jobs, and spent time with Gary whenever the opportunity arose.”
She tried for a chuckle, but it came out more like a groan. “I guess I was pretty boring back
then.”
Her gaze seemed to shift, and I couldn’t help but wonder if she regretted doing things the
way she had. Not that things hadn’t worked out for her. She had a lovely home, a very nice
husband, children she adored, and her own business. I didn’t suppose she had reason to look
back on her life with regret, but still…
“If you could do it all again, would you?” Astoria asked.
“I wouldn’t mind having my sixteen-year-old body back, but if you’re asking if I have any
sort of desire to actually be sixteen again, no way,” Savannah said. “I know that a lot of folks
look back on their teenage years with longing, but for me, I remember those angsty, insecure,
awkward years as being a time in my life I was forced to endure on my way to get to college and
adulthood.”
“So you enjoyed college?” Astoria asked her.
“I did. I think college was the first time, maybe ever, that things began to actually make sense
to me. I remember my childhood with regret and sorrow, but I remember my years at the
university, first as a student and then as a professor, being the best of my life.”

“I don’t remember my teen years being as awkward and painful as Savannah describes, but I
too remember that period as merely biding my time until I was finally old enough to live my own
life,” Ethel said.
“I likewise think I prefer what came after to life at sixteen,” Velma said.
“Lou?” Astoria asked.
I paused to think about it. “I have fond memories of my life back then. Life in high school
was surely simpler than what came next. I’m not sure I’d want to travel back in time, but if I
could, I suspect I’d make the most of it.” I looked at Astoria. “How about you?”
“I think my sixteenth summer is the last summer that anything actually made sense to me.”
I felt sympathy for Astoria. She’d really been struggling ever since her divorce. I guessed
that she’d probably been struggling even before that. I know there are those with bad luck in life,
but, in my opinion, Astoria tended to make her own bad luck, and then when things went the way
they were always going to, she tended to wallow in her misery rather than work to make
changes.
“I think I’m going to have a party,” Astoria said, changing the subject. “I’m pretty much
settled in the condo, and this is such a perfect time of the year to be outside and enjoy the ocean.
Besides, I want everyone to have a chance to get to know Sturgis a little better.”
“Is Sturgis the new man in your life?” Savannah asked. Astoria had met Sturgis when he’d
wandered into her wine bar a month ago, so those of us who had businesses in the courtyard had
met him, but Savannah didn’t hang out in the area on a daily basis and had yet to make his
acquaintance.
She nodded. “I guess you haven’t met Sturgis yet. You’ll like him. He’s the sort of man who
likes to read and seems to know a lot about many things. I envision that the two of you will have
much to discuss.”
“I look forward to meeting him,” Savannah assured Astoria.
“I thought maybe you could invite Joel,” Astoria added. Joel Stafford, like Savannah, was an
academic and a member of the Murder on Tuesdays group.
“I’m happy to ask him,” I replied.
“I feel like Joel and Sturgis have a lot in common. They’re both into murder, and they both
like to solve crimes.”
“Sturgis is into murder?” I asked. The way Astoria phrased it, the whole thing sounded odd
to me.
She laughed. “I guess that sounded odd. I meant to say that, like Joel, Sturgis likes to dig
around in cold cases, only his work is a bit more focused.”
“Focused?” I asked.
Astoria answered. “Sturgis writes true crime novels. He focuses on unsolved murders, or I
guess I should say unsolved missing persons cases that are often proven to have been murders. I
haven’t read anything he’s written, but apparently, Sturgis details the events leading up to the
disappearance of the subject of his book. After he sets the stage, he tries to offer possible

conclusions based on his research. In some cases, his research has even led to a cold case being
solved, or at least his research has led to the body of the missing person being found.”
“Really?” Savannah asked. “Sturgis has actually been able to solve a crime that was
previously considered cold?”
Astoria nodded. “More than one. You see, Sturgis has a gift.”
“A gift of deduction?” I asked.
She looked me in the eye. “A gift of sight. It seems that Sturgis has the unique ability to ‘see’
things in his mind that others might miss.”
“So he’s a psychic?” Ethel asked.
“In a way, he is,” Astoria confirmed. “It’s not like he is the sort to set up a booth at the local
fair and read palms or anything like that, but Sturgis does seem to be able to ‘know’ things others
don’t, which, in the past, has helped him to solve crimes.”
“Such as?” I asked.
“Such as a case involving a woman named Eugenia Jeffrey who went missing from her job in
Winterport in nineteen ninety-eight,” Astoria answered. “Eugenia, a twenty-eight-year-old
waitress, was last seen leaving the café where she’d worked the dinner shift. She had plans to
meet with a man she’d been dating, but she never showed up at his home. A missing persons
report was filed when Eugenia didn’t appear at home or work the following day. The man she
was heading out to meet only lived four miles from the café where she worked, and since the
cook and the busboy both saw her head out in the direction of the home of the man Eugenia was
planning to meet, they determined that she disappeared somewhere between work and his home.
There was an extensive search, but the woman never surfaced. Since her body was never found
and the police were never able to dig up any clues, the case eventually went cold. Sturgis had a
dream in two thousand six that involved a woman he’d never met and decided to follow up on it.
He traveled to Winterport and dug around a bit. I won’t take the time to go through all the details
since you can read the book he wrote if you’re really interested, but suffice it to say that between
his research and the clues provided during the dreams he continued to have, he was able to not
only find the location where Eugenia had been buried, but he was able to put together a
convincing story about what had likely happened on the night she disappeared.”
“That’s amazing,” Ethel said. “Did they find the killer?”
“No,” Astoria answered. “Sturgis was able to use the physical evidence he dug up along with
the clues he dreamt about to find the body and put together an explanation as to what might have
occurred, but he was never able to finger the killer. He did, however, lay everything out in the
book he published soon after the body was found. I imagine he hopes someone will read the
book and finish the story.”
“And he’s written additional books with a similar plot since then?” Savannah asked.
Astoria nodded. “He’s published five or six books since two thousand six. All were similar to
the first in that all involved the mysterious disappearance of a young woman between twenty-one
and twenty-nine, and all had gone cold after an initial investigation turned up empty. In every
case, Sturgis used clues provided in his dreams to find physical evidence that eventually led to
the discovery of the body.”

“Did all these murders take place in Maine?” Velma asked.
Astoria frowned. “I’m not sure. I guess I never asked that specific question, but I do
remember him mentioning one case that took him to Connecticut, so I suspect that Sturgis has
been involved in murders extending beyond our borders.”
“I’m not sure how I feel about the whole psychic ability thing, but I find it interesting,”
Savannah said. “I’d like to meet the man and suspect Joel would too. Do you know how long he
plans to be in town?”
Astoria answered. “I’m not sure exactly. He’s in Holiday Bay to investigate a cold case
involving a woman named Chastity Wells.”
“I remember that,” Velma said. “I knew the woman. We weren’t close, nor did I know her
well, but Chastity and I were of a similar age and shared mutual friends. It all happened a long
time ago. I’d say at least thirty years ago. Maybe even longer.”
“What happened?” Ethel asked.
Velma responded. “Chastity was living in Holiday Bay for the summer season. She hadn’t
been here long, but she had been known as being a reliable employee since taking a job at one of
the local diners. When she failed to show up for work or call in two days in a row, her boss
reported her missing. Some folks figured she’d just split and simply failed to tell anyone that she
was moving on, and then two weeks later, her car was found in a deeply forested area out near
Foxtail Lake. There was blood in the car, so the police began to suspect foul play, but they were
never able to find a body.”
“Sturgis is certain that the woman was murdered and that her story needs to be completed,”
Astoria informed us. “He’s been dreaming of her and seems determined to find out what
happened on the night she went missing.”
“And is he getting anywhere?” Velma asked.
Astoria shrugged. “I’m not sure. Initially, it seemed like he had a promising idea, but
ultimately, it didn’t lead anywhere. I suspect that he’s hit a dead end. It has occurred to me that
members of the Murder on Tuesdays group might be able to help get Sturgis back on track.”
“I’m sure the group members will be willing to help if they can,” I said. “Today is
Wednesday, so the Tuesday night group won’t meet for a week, but maybe we can get Joel and
Sturgis together before then.”
Astoria smiled. “I think Sturgis might like that. Maybe we can all meet up for lunch or
something. And we might want to invite Beck.” She looked at Velma. “Of course, anyone from
the Tuesday night group would be welcome.” She referred to Beck Cage, a retired homicide
detective from Boston, turned private investigator, and member of the Murder on Tuesdays
group.
“The Thursday night book group is still on hiatus,” Velma said. “Maybe those members of
the Murder on Tuesdays group who are available can meet tomorrow evening to discuss the
case.”
“If you think that might work, I’ll talk to Sturgis about it,” Astoria promised and then took
the last sip of wine from her glass. “Does anyone need a refill?”

We all agreed that we were fine, so Astoria filled her glass while Velma got up to serve the
cake she’d brought, and I began offering everyone coffee to go with their cake. The conversation
seemed to migrate from Sturgis and his investigation to the new hairdresser in town and the stir
she had seemed to have created when she began flirting with many of the eligible men in the
area.
“I will admit that Winny is put together in such a way as to cause most red-blooded males to
take a second look, but, in my opinion, just because God blesses you with an outstanding figure,
that doesn’t mean you have to flaunt it,” Ethel said.
I was pretty sure that Ethel’s husband, Gary, hadn’t even noticed the new hairdresser, who
had to be at least thirty years his junior, but Ethel seemed outraged, so I decided to change the
subject. “Any news from Olivia?” I asked about Ethel’s only daughter.
“Unfortunately, she seems committed to moving to France for a minimum of a year and
possibly longer if she can work it out,” Ethel answered my inquiry. “I really don’t understand
what she’s thinking. It wasn’t all that long ago when she had a steady boyfriend right here in the
States. I was expecting an engagement at any point, so I was more than a little shocked when she
called me and told me that she’d broken up with the man she’d seemed so committed to and was
heading to Europe to find herself.”
“Maybe Olivia and her boyfriend weren’t as happy as you assumed,” Velma said.
“I guess they must not have been,” Ethel said. “I really hoped that Olivia would take some
time to herself and then come back and work things out with Easton. He’s a nice man, and I think
he would have made a good husband for Olivia and father for any children they might have had.
But instead of planning a wedding this summer, I’m trying to come to grips with the idea of
Olivia being gone for an entire year and possibly even longer.”
“France is a beautiful country,” Savannah pointed out. “Maybe you can go and visit her.”
“It does seem like a nice place to visit,” Ethel admitted. “And I’ve never been to Europe, but
Gary doesn’t like to fly, and I’m not sure he’d be willing to go along with me. I suppose I could
go alone if I can’t talk him into it, but it seems like a huge trip to make by myself. I’m really not
sure I can manage.”
“I suspect that Gary will end up agreeing to the trip if that’s the only way he’s going to be
able to spend time with Olivia,” I said. “He might hate to fly, but he does love his children.”
“I’m hoping you’re right,” Ethel said.
“If Gary won’t go, I’ll go with you,” Savannah offered. “I love to travel, and France is one of
my favorite countries.”
“You’ve been to France in the past?” Ethel asked.
Savannah nodded. “Numerous times. I spent an entire summer traveling in France and Italy.
In fact, I have a funny story about my time in France, but I think that’s a tale I’ll save for another
book club.”
“Speaking of another book club, what are we going to read for next week?” Velma asked.
There was a little back and forth before we agreed on a book. I doubted that we’d get around
to actually discussing it, but it seemed that everyone read the book we chose each week, and

there were times when we’d spend at least part of the time discussing the novel’s intricacies. The
book we decided on was set in Paris, which seemed to fit the discussion we’d been having just
before we voted.
Once everyone left, I took a few minutes to do the dishes. Once that was done, I clicked my
gas fireplace on and settled in on the sofa with my cats. Toby was always a cuddle bug, no matter
what the situation, but Houdini was the sort who doled out his affection sparingly. He’d been
more affectionate since the weather had cooled, which I supposed made sense since he was a
long-haired cat who seemed to avoid snuggling on laps when the temperature reached a certain
point.
In addition to my two cats, I brought the cats from the rescue who’d been showcased in the
bookstore’s lounge that week up to my apartment for the evening. Typically, our local cat rescue
worker, Hazel Hawthorn, would select four cats to be featured each week. Two of the cats had
found homes right away, so all I had with me this evening, in addition to Toby and Houdini, was
a cute little female named Hillary, who hopefully was going to a new home tomorrow, and an
energetic gray and white male I’d already had for three weeks, but hadn’t been able to place.
Once I’d cuddled with Toby a bit, I played with the cats for a while, but it was already late in
the evening, so I considered heading up to bed. I was tired after an early morning and long day,
but sitting in the dark with only the fire for light was comforting. I loved this time of the year
when the nights grew colder, and the need for thick blankets and fuzzy socks made everything
much cozier. It had been a while since the courtyard gang had gathered by a fire at the end of the
day for a glass of wine and a communion of friends. I suspected tomorrow would be another long
day, but perhaps I’d suggest having a courtyard wind-down after everyone closed on Friday. The
deli stayed open late during the summer, but once Labor Day came and went, the brothers closed
their shop at six, which was at the same time the bookstore, flower shop, craft store, and wine bar
closed for the day.
Closing my eyes, I allowed my mind to wander to cable knit sweaters, woolen scarves, leaves
on the sidewalk, and all the “feels” of the cozy days of autumn I still had to look forward to. ...