Shutter Shock Christmas in July Read online

  Danni Roan

  Shutter Shock Christmas

  Ornamental Matchmaker

  Danni Roan

  5/23/2019

  Antoinette spends her life hiding behind the oversized lens of her camera, covering up the hurts and scars of the past while creating some of the most sought after nature shots in the world of outdoor photography. Can she manage to see past her own frailties to find love?

  Copyright © 2019 by Danni Roan

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review.

  FIRST EDITION

  https://authordanniroan.com

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Epilogue

  Chapter 1

  Antoinette scootched her bottom up onto the large rock she was sitting on and squinted at the sky. The bright blue heavens reflected like jewels across the azure lake before her, and she breathed with the easy in and out rhythm of soft waves lapping at the shore.

  At the moment, the sky was empty, but Toni, as her colleagues knew her, was patient. Life had taught her you had to wait, and that good things came slowly.

  Reaching down, she absently itched at the leg of her faded jeans ignoring the bumps under the fabric with a practiced hand. Sooner or later, her quarry would drift her way, and she sat poised and ready for the prefect shot.

  A soft breeze ruffled the waves before her, and the pines at her back whispered a sultry song. In the distance, her keen ears picked out the sounds of what she had been waiting on all morning; the ragged squawk of seagulls on the wind.

  Adjusting her seat slightly and bracing her feet on the rocks sharp curve, Toni lifted her camera picking out the small specks gliding closer by the moment. She still could not believe someone had commissioned her to take pictures of seagulls of all things, and to top it off, not just random seagulls, but specifically Great Lakes seagulls.

  Mentally shaking her head as she breathed, slow and even, she wondered again about the job. The pay was fantastic, but the area they had asked her to shoot was a little too busy for her taste. Still a job was a job, and if she kept her distance, she shouldn’t have to deal with the people side of things.

  She was beyond grateful to have found the Old Inn and its row of little cottages where she could keep to herself. Big Bear Cottage had caught her interest almost at once when making reservations online, and her curiosity had gotten the best of her as she’d skimmed through the photos on the site of each lakeside cabin.

  The Big Bear Cabin was painted in a deep yellow ocher and trimmed in deep slate black with accents of dark red. The entire cottage was full of back woodsy items like snowshoes, sleds, wood paneling, and photos. It had been the nature photos that had most drawn Toni to the cabin, and as soon as she had gotten inside, she had examined each amateur shot with care.

  Someone had a good eye for pictures, and the crisp greens of the surrounding pine forests were nicely offset by cool black and white prints. One of the other astounding features of the cottage was the handmade quilt complete with carefully crafted woodland creatures neatly stitched into the varied green background.

  Toni had been touched by a small framed letter hung next to the quilt that draped one wall of the cabin. Apparently a woman, who had met her husband right there at the lake during a rather harrowing moose incident, had made the quilt as a gift to the old proprietress.

  Above her, the seagulls shifted their flight pattern, and Toni braced her elbows on her knees steadying her hands for the shot. As the white birds tipped toward her, sunlight glinting from gray and white feathers, Toni took careful aim and began to shoot, picking off each bird with rapid fire shutter clicks.

  She marveled at the way the birds caught the breeze beneath their outstretched wings and hovered directly in front of her, their orange eyes studying her as she captured the stillness of their flight.

  While the birds dove and ducked, plunging toward the water or soaring high above, Toni clicked away, her heavy camera and wide lens never wavering in her hand. Toni had learned long ago how to be still. How to hold yourself against a painful counterweight; how to breathe without even a wobble, and the long hours of therapy, reconstruction, and painful treatment had given her not only life, but the ability to take pictures that captured the very essence of life.

  Finishing an entire digital storage card on her camera, Toni finally sat back easing the painful muscles that had bunched and tightened while she’d taken her pictures. Then she switched out cards and took a few more shots as she climbed from her rock perch and headed down the shore.

  Above the raucous cries of the gulls seemed to echo farewell, and she randomly waved her camera over head snapping photos without even looking.

  As she left the rowdy birds behind, Toni’s stomach rumbled, and she wondered what was on the lunch menu for the day.

  Mrs. Walton the proprietor of the Old Inn had a great restaurant with a fine offering that ranged from inexpensive sandwiches to juicy steak dinners, and the cook she had hired for the year was rumored to be brilliant.

  Making her way around the shoreline toward the Old Inn, Toni stopped admiring the line of tiny vacation cabins that ran along the curve of the lake shore like some crazy colorful carpet leading you to the beautiful three storied Victorian home that stood regally above them all.

  The old house had been beautifully restored to its original colors the year before, and the light moss green clapboard of the base color centered all the rest of the home. The house was trimmed in white but was accented in a burnt sienna band that covered the turret above the porch and the front door and another accent swatch on the other side of the house.

  Above on the high gabled third floor, just below the widows walk, the fishtail shakes had been painted a dark tan interlaced with white bands between giving it an almost lace like appearance. Overall the entire place was stunning.

  Stopping, Toni took several more photos of the old house and the brightly colored cottages that seemed to sparkle like sea glass along the shore. Each cabin had been renovated and reopened the year before by Mrs. Walton’s granddaughter who had decided that each of the twelve cottages should have a theme.

  There was of course Big Bear, the last of the cottages at the very end of the row, but there was also a Christmas Cottage, painted red and trimmed out in white to give the illusion of entering a winter wonder land.

  The Fourth of July Cottage, a huge hit among guests, was painted all in red, white, and blue with flag accents and a soft welcoming air about it.

  A light yellow Butterfly Butte had captured the eye of most guests with its lavender accents, bright flower boxes and scads of real and painted butterflies.

  Looking away from the cottages, Toni followed the line of the driveway to another newly built cabin that closely matched the colors of the main house but proudly displayed a banner that read ‘Arts and Crafts.’

  Toni had spent a happy afternoon hiding out in the little shack with the unobtrusive teen who sold some of her work there.

  Over all the Old Inn was a lovely spot. It was just too full of people. Looking out at the beach and the crowded walkways, Toni considered diving back into Big Bear and ma
king a sandwich. She didn’t like crowds; she didn’t like people staring at her as she walked unevenly toward the house.

  She gazed at men and women paddling in the cold lake wearing shorts, or skimpy swim wear, and her eyes drifted to her right leg. She would never wear anything but long pants for the rest of her life, and she knew it.

  Making her way up the stairs of the wide wraparound porch, Toni pushed her way through the front door and into the lobby of the Inn.

  Chapter 2

  “I’m sorry Mr. Atwood, I don’t know who delivered the package. As far as I can tell it came in the mail this morning,” Jamie Jimenez, the co-owner of the place said kindly as she talked to a man wearing oversized sunglasses and a baseball cap.

  “I hope this isn’t some sort of prank,” the man replied tersely. “From the North Pole,” he grumbled lifting a beautifully wrapped package that looked like a miniscule Christmas gift on display at a high-end retail store.

  Toni watched the man lift the package from the counter, duck his head and move toward the door roughly tucking the package into his dark windbreaker.

  Stepping aside the photographer tried to offer a smile, but he was gone without a backward glance.

  “Oh, hello Ms. Goss, can I help you?” Jamie asked her dark eyes and kind smile were welcoming and always made Toni feel at ease.

  “I’m just coming in for lunch,” Toni admitted. “Who was that man?” she added impulsively.

  “Mr. Atwood is a guest,” Jamie said softly. “I don’t think he liked having to come to the main house to get his package. Did you have a good day? I know Anita is fascinated by your photos,” Jamie continued. “I’m afraid my husband’s little sister is now stalking your online presence,” she finished with a smile.

  Toni grinned. “Anita is a very talented artist, and she has a great eye for detail. I’m glad she likes my photos. Maybe I’ll stop in the shop later and see what she has that’s new.”

  Jamie smiled again. She loved that she and Carlos had been able to give Anita the tiny art studio where she could work and also sell some of her things. Although shy about her work, Anita truly was talented, and people enjoyed her small paintings or tiny greeting cards with her work printed on them.

  “Have a nice lunch,” Jamie finally said waving at Ms. Goss who was walking stiffly toward the dining area. It was obvious that the photographer was sensitive about her gait and Jamie was careful not to mention it. The young woman had booked Big Bear months earlier for the summer season, and in the week she had been at the inn, Jamie had only seen her two or three times. The woman was almost as much of a recluse as Mr. Atwood.

  ***

  Allen Atwood stepped into the Sailor’s Sound cabin tossing the package on the counter and watching it slide along the polished teak counter top to the far wall while he peeled off his jacket.

  Looking around him, he sighed heavily as he pulled off his dark glasses and hat, hanging them on a hook in the nautically decorated cabin.

  The cottage itself was beautiful, and the rich blues, creamy aquas, and accents of sailcloth were welcoming, his only problem with the cottage was that it sat right in the middle of the chain of rentals, on the deepest point of the curve of the lake.

  Allen would have much preferred the Big Bear cabin at the end of the run and closest to the woods, where he could have slipped out into the dark forest unnoticed by other vacation makers.

  Still, he had been lucky to get the cottage at all, and with his oversized glasses, hat and a heavy windbreaker; most people barely noticed him at all.

  Walking to the small galley stove Allen flicked on the gas and set the percolator to boil, but the little package caught the light of the large window over the sink and drew his eye.

  “What kind of nonsense was it getting a Christmas present from the North Pole in the middle of July?” he wondered, even as he took the few short steps and grasped the package, tossing it lightly in his hand.

  “If this is some sort of joke,” he mused as he carefully unwrapped the little package. As far as he knew not even his parents knew where he was at the moment.

  Peeling open the box Allen looked inside at a small shimmering object attached to a golden thread. Hooking the string with one finger, he pulled it up examining a tiny camera that appeared to have been dropped in the snow.

  It had to be the strangest ornament Allen had ever seen, and he wondered at the craftsmanship of it. The camera looked almost real with every detail picked out in silver and black, and the painted on snow that partially covered it sparkled like fine powder beneath the rays of the first spring sunshine.

  Allen shivered as a chill passed through him, and he looked up to see if he’d left a window open, but everything was shut up tight, and the air outside was warm and filled with laughter.

  Shaking his head Allen placed the little ornament back into its nest of cotton fluff and resealed the box. Perhaps he would give it to his mom for Christmas, for now the coffee pot was going full tilt, and he had an article to write.

  Chapter 3

  Late afternoon sunlight poured through the window of the Sailor’s Sound spilling across Allen’s laptop in a pool of heat and light. Lifting his face from his screen, he tipped his head feeling the warmth of a fleeting summer’s day.

  The sun seemed to reach inside the little cabin, its dark blue facade soaking up the heat and saving it for the frosty winter days ahead. Although the cottage had not been situated where Allen would have liked, he did have to say it had been a comfortable two days of his three-week stay.

  He had desperately needed somewhere to get away from the constant care and worry of his parents, and the pitying glance of his friends and relatives.

  It was time he was out on his own again, and this break was exactly what he needed to get his life back in order. His life had been radically altered the day his vessel had been attacked, but he was still alive and his mind was good. He had discovered that he could pour a great deal of his pain and turmoil into his journal that had somehow morphed into a blog.

  He really didn’t know where his life was going, but he knew that he could guide it in a new direction if everyone would simply let him be. Solitude, quiet, peace was what he longed for.

  The lakeshore had beckoned him the minute one of those pop-up ads had appeared on his computer screen with images of the various cottages at the Old Inn, and before he had even really thought about it, he was booking a cottage for himself.

  Of course, the images were largely without screaming children, raucous teens, or laughing adults. Chiding himself for his negativity Allen picked up his mug carrying it to the window and looking out.

  Late afternoon sunbathers were still to be seen lounging on the shore, and a few families still waded in the chilly waves. Down the beach, couples strolled hand in hand heading along the shore to a quiet cove or an isolated hilltop to watch the sun go down.

  Finishing his coffee, Allen slipped back into his windbreaker, pulled his hat low on his head, and donned his dark glasses then slipped out the back door along the quieter path toward the cliffs edge and the steep slopes that tended to keep the everyday visitor at bay.

  He had found a quiet refuge there among the tall pines, and rock studded slopes that looked out over the dark blue waves. Checking the flashlight in his pocket Allen made the turn into the tall pines and along the old game path.

  ***

  Toni leaned over the precipice of the cliff angling her camera toward the nest where two fledgling gulls flapped fuzz tufted wings. She had been keeping an eye on the pair over the past two weeks and was excited to see if today would be the day they would take wing.

  As the sun moved lower toward the western sky, and the wind off of the lake eased, she was sure that the little birds might try their wings.

  Above her the sea gull parents glided on thermals that swept upward along the cliff face calling down in sharp cackles to their offspring.

  Toni shifted draping her body along the edge of the cliff as one of the ch
icks hopped up onto the rim of the nest rocking from foot to foot nervously as his wings caught the wind.

  Toni clicked the camera button, as the young gull, his coat a dull gray, hopped and shifted testing the wind, while below him one of the parents swept past on open wings.

  Hunching his shoulders the gull leaned forward into the wind, spread his wings and tipped forward out of the nest with a mournful cry.

  Toni gasped, watching the young bird plummet, his body wobbling as the wind buffeted wing unused to flight. Then as the air freshened, rising from the warm lake the young gull rose like a kite in a breeze, and Toni sagged with relief easing her tense body and rolling too close to the edge.

  Dropping her camera as she scrabbled for a better purchase on the rocky slope, Toni felt the heavy strap jerk at her neck, while her fingers dug in to the rocky earth for a better hold.

  Strong hands grasped Toni’s legs and she bit her lip repressing the cry of fear and pain that ran through her.

  “You’re alright,” a deep voice soothed, “I won’t let you fall.”

  Toni twisted slightly, using the man as an anchor to pull herself back from the edge then rolled to a seated position on solid ground.

  “Thank you,” she said her voice tight as she fought the twinges running up her right leg where her would be hero had grabbed it.

  “You looked like you were in some trouble there,” the man said.

  Toni nodded. “It was careless of me,” she said studying the man she had seen earlier at the inn. He was still wearing the hat, sunglasses, and windbreaker even though dark shadows were falling in the forest below. He reminded her of those movie stars trying to hide from the paparazzi with their ball caps pulled down tight and huge sunglasses that covered half their faces.

  “I’m glad you didn’t lose your camera,” the man said nodding toward the camera that dangled from its strap around her neck. “It looks expensive.”