Free Chapter Friday: A Beautiful Mess

Haley Johnson had a system. Four words in, and anyone who has ever built their life on a system knows exactly what is coming.

A Beautiful Mess is Holland Harbor book 4. Read it free in Kindle Unlimited.

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Here is the whole first chapter. If it grabs you, the link to keep going is right below it.

Chapter one

Haley Johnson had a system.

She had arranged the earrings on the left, sorted by price point, with the necklaces draped over the driftwood display stands she'd sanded smooth herself. The bracelets sat on velvet rolls she'd picked up at a craft supply store in Braxton City for practically nothing. Every piece had a small handwritten tag, because Haley had learned early on that customers wanted the story behind the jewelry, not just the jewelry itself.

She adjusted a pair of sea glass earrings, tilting them so the overhead fluorescent lights would catch the pale green. The indoor winter market wasn't as pretty as the outdoor version. There was no sunshine, no breeze carrying the smell of kettle corn and fresh flowers, just a community center gymnasium with folding tables and extension cords snaking across linoleum floors every Saturday from November through February. She got the same number of market days as in summer, but the winter crowds were thinner, so each Saturday had to count for twice as much. But it was hers. This booth, this life, this town. Eight months in Holland Harbor, and Haley finally felt like she was building something real.

"Those are new."

Haley looked up to find Quinn leaning against the edge of the table, a coffee in each hand. Her red hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, and she had that look she got when she was about to settle in for a long conversation.

"Made them last week." Haley took the offered coffee and nodded toward the earrings. "Lake Michigan sea glass. I found a whole bag of it at that little antique shop on Pine Street."

"The one with the cat in the window?"

"That's the one. The owner gives me a discount now because I come in so often." Haley took a sip. "Cayenne mocha?"

"Grace made me promise to bring you one. She said you skipped your usual stop this morning."

"I was running late. I kept rearranging my display last night and overslept." Haley gestured at her table. "Tell me honestly. Does the driftwood look better on the left or the center?"

Quinn tilted her head, considering. "Center. It draws your eye to the necklaces first, and those are your most expensive pieces."

"See, that's what I thought too. But then I worried it crowds the pendants."

"Haley. It looks perfect. Stop rearranging."

"I can't help it. It's a sickness."

Quinn laughed and set her own coffee down, picking up a pendant. It was tumbled amber wrapped in copper wire, and she turned it in her fingers, admiring the way the warm stone caught the light. "This is gorgeous. Seriously."

"Thank you." Haley watched Quinn's face, still surprised sometimes by how easy their friendship had become. They'd met right here at this market, back when Quinn was new to town and still flinching every time her phone buzzed. A lot had changed since then. Quinn looked settled now, steady, happy in a way that went deeper than just smiling.

"So how's Caleb?" Haley asked.

Quinn's cheeks went pink, which was answer enough. "Good. Really good. He's testing a new brunch menu for the inn, which means I've been taste-testing biscuits and gravy for a week."

"Rough life."

"Terrible. I'm suffering." Quinn set the pendant down carefully. "Oh, I keep forgetting to tell you. Remember how Richie took my car when I left California?"

Haley's jaw tightened. She'd heard enough about Quinn's ex to know that "took" was a generous word for it. "Yeah?"

"Caleb replaced it. Just showed up at Christmas with a used Honda, said he found a good deal." Quinn shook her head, but she was smiling. "I tried to argue with him that it was too much for a first Christmas gift. He said, and I quote, 'You need a car that doesn't belong to that guy. This one belongs to you.'"

"That man," Haley said.

"I know."

"He's a good one, Quinn."

"He really is." Quinn's smile softened. "He doesn't make a big deal about it, either. That's the part that gets me. He just does things because they need doing."

"That's the Waverly way, from what I can tell. The whole family is like that."

"They are. You should come to Sunday dinner sometime. CiCi keeps asking about you."

"CiCi has met me exactly once."

"That's all it takes. She decided she likes you. Once CiCi decides, it's done." Quinn squeezed Haley's arm. "Okay, I need to get to the farm before Bill sends out a search party. Text me later?"

"Always."

Quinn disappeared into the growing crowd of Saturday morning shoppers, and Haley turned back to her display. She straightened a row of bangles that didn't need straightening, then caught herself and stopped. It was a nervous habit, the fussing with her hands when her mind was somewhere else.

And her mind kept drifting two booths down.

She'd been watching the art booth for weeks. His metalwork sculptures looked like they were made from scraps of old farm equipment, twisted and welded into shapes that managed to be both rough and graceful. There were paintings too, bold acrylics in colors that didn't belong together but worked anyway. She'd admired the work from a distance the way she studied gemstones before setting them. They'd exchanged quick hellos a handful of times. He was friendly in that easy, surface-level way some people had, where you couldn't tell if they were genuinely warm or just good at performing warmth.

The artist's name was Carson and he was one of the Waverly brothers, the youngest brother, but not their youngest sibling.

Right now, his booth was empty. A few sculptures sat on his table, but there was no sign of him. He ran late more often than not, rolling in with blankets full of art and a grin that suggested he'd lost track of time and didn't feel particularly sorry about it.

Haley's phone buzzed in her back pocket, and her stomach dropped before she even looked at the screen. She knew that ringtone. She'd assigned it specifically so she'd have a half-second warning before her sister's voice came through.

"Hey, Linds," she said, pressing the phone to her ear.

"Hey." Her sister Lindsay's voice had that careful, diplomatic tone that meant she was about to deliver news Haley didn't want. "So. Mom and Dad want to come visit."

Haley closed her eyes. "When?"

"A few weeks. Mom's already looking at flights."

"Did she say why?"

"You know why. They want to see where you're living. What you're doing."

"What they actually want is to see how long it takes before I come to my senses and go back to teaching."

Lindsay was quiet for a beat too long. "Haley."

"Am I wrong?"

"I'm not saying you're wrong. I'm saying it might go better than you think."

"When has it ever gone better than I think, Linds?" Haley kept her voice low. A couple was browsing the booth next to hers, and the last thing she needed was a public family argument. "Dad called my jewelry booth 'the little table' again, didn't he?"

"He's trying. In his way."

"His way involves reminding me every conversation that I have a perfectly good education degree I'm not using."

"I know." Lindsay sighed. "Look, just give me a heads-up if there are dates that don't work. I'll try to steer them."

"Fine. Thank you. I mean that."

"Love you, Haley."

"Love you too."

She hung up and set her phone face-down on the table. The couple had moved on, and a woman was approaching instead, eyeing a silver cuff bracelet. Haley shifted into her selling smile, warm and genuine. She was good at this part, and she loved this part.

"That one's hand-forged," she said, stepping closer. "Sterling silver with a hammered finish. I shape each one individually, so no two are exactly alike."

The woman tried it on, turning her wrist back and forth under the light. "It's beautiful. How much?"

"Forty-five."

"Can you tell me about the process? How do you get that texture?"

"I use a ball-peen hammer on a steel block. Each strike leaves a slightly different impression, which is what gives it that organic look. It takes about an hour per bracelet."

"Sold." The woman pulled out her wallet. "My daughter would love one of these too. Do you take custom orders?"

"Absolutely. I can do different widths, different finishes. Here's my card."

The woman left with the bracelet and a business card, and Haley tucked the cash into her apron pocket. It wasn't a big sale, but it was hers. Every dollar she earned from her own hands and her own designs was proof that this life was working.

She'd just finished organizing her cash when a burst of feedback from the PA system made everyone wince. Sharon, the market's entrance-table volunteer and unofficial town crier, was standing near the gymnasium doors with a microphone that clearly wasn't cooperating.

"Can everyone hear me? Is this thing on?" Sharon tapped the microphone twice, producing two more painful squeals. "All right, listen up. We've got a situation."

Haley leaned against her table, crossing her arms. Around her, vendors paused mid-setup and customers turned toward the front.

"We had a pipe burst overnight in the east wing of the building," Sharon announced. "That whole section is flooded. The good news is nobody's inventory got damaged because maintenance caught it early. The bad news is we're losing about a third of our vendor space for the next several weeks while they do repairs."

A murmur moved through the room. The vendor next to Haley, a woman who sold handmade candles, groaned under her breath.

"So here's what we're going to do," Sharon continued, clearly enjoying the authority. "Vendors in the affected section are going to double up with vendors in the main hall. I've already started working out assignments. If your booth has room for a neighbor, congratulations, you've got one."

The candle vendor leaned toward Haley. "You think she's been waiting for something like this to happen? She looks way too happy."

"Sharon lives for organized chaos," Haley whispered back.

"I'll be coming around with assignments in about twenty minutes," Sharon said. "No swapping without my approval. I don't want the drama." She lowered the microphone, then raised it again. "And somebody tell the coffee cart to move closer to the entrance. I've been saying that for three years."

Quiet laughter moved through the gymnasium. Haley smiled despite the knot in her stomach that hadn't loosened since Lindsay's call. She started rearranging her display, shifting things left to free up the right side of her table. Whoever she got paired with, she'd make it work. She always did.

Two booths down, Carson Waverly's table sat empty, and there was still no sign of him.

Haley wondered which of them would be needing a new spot.

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A Beautiful Mess is Holland Harbor book 4. Get your copy here — free to read in Kindle Unlimited, or listen to the audiobook. [ DELETE THE AUDIOBOOK CLAUSE IF NO AUDIO YET ]