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Barbara Matteson is a life-long New Englander, currently residing outside of Boston with her husband, son, black lab, and leopard gecko. She recently became a published writer when her essay, The Birds of Winter, was published in the January/February 2022 edition of Victoria Magazine. She also enjoys writing movie reviews, hiking, baking, reading, and traveling.
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Charlotte Templeton has lived a comfortable and safe life for the past twenty-five years as the manager of a women's pro shop on a prestigious golf course outside of Boston. She loves her job and her home, a small cottage on the grounds of the course. Although no stranger to tragedy and loss, Charlotte is devastated to learn that her near-perfect world is coming to an end as the golf course comes under new management. Duncan Kirk, reeling from the wreckage of a personal disaster, finds himself in a place he thought he would never return--his hometown of Lobster Claw, Maine. Charlotte’s and Duncan’s worlds converge during a violent nor’easter, and from that point, their lives are never the same; Charlotte questions if this little coastal town was the right move for her, and Duncan feels that his life is coming apart, and wonders if Lobster Claw will be able to put it back together? The collision of their worlds sets the stage for Charlotte and Duncan to fulfill promises and dreams and create an unexpected future.
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Read an excerpt from Beach Rose Path by Barbara Matteson
“I’ve just been told, Char, when the new owner and General Manager comes later in the spring, he’s cleanin’ house. Bringin’ his own crew with him from some swanky golf club in Georgia.”
Hamish Falconer sat in his worn leather chair in the executive office at Castle Loch Country and Golf Club where he had been the General Manager for forty years. Even at age 73, he still maintained as much of his effervescence, energy, and Scottish accent as when he started as the assistant manager so many decades ago. His coal black hair had only a few threads of alabaster running through it, and it was still thick as when he was a young man, and combed neatly away from his face. His large, blueberry eyes were framed by heavy, dark eyebrows. Although still handsome, deep lines now crossed over his forehead and under his eyes, while a coarse salt-and-pepper mustache and beard covered his strong upper lip and jawline. Hamish continued to maintain a trim figure thanks to the many rounds of golf he loved to play each week, and at six and a half feet tall, he cut a most formidable figure.
Charlotte Templeton, Hamish’s long-time employee and friend, sat in a similar wing-backed chair on the opposite side of his desk. Charlotte couldn’t believe it had been over two decades since she had graduated from Boston’s Calloway Junior College with her fashion merchandising degree, and that Hamish Falconer, the revered General Manager of the Castle Loch Golf and Country Club had offered her a job as the ladies members pro shop buyer. In the twenty-five years they had worked together, Charlotte had come to consider Hamish more of a father figure than her boss.
Although her own brown hair was becoming more pearlescent, she felt she still maintained the enthusiasm of her younger self that had first interviewed to be the ladies’ golf wear buyer all those years ago. Her eyes were just as brown and bright, even though tiny lines now creased at the edges and upon her upper lip. She kept busy and took care of herself, and her 5’2” frame was still slender and athletic, due to being so busy and enjoying an occasional round of golf herself.
“I can’t say I’m surprised,” continued Hamish. “I hoped it wouldn’t happen, but I’d heard rumblings of the club going under new management. Rumors like that popped up here and there over my years here, but nothing ever came of it. Until now.”
Charlotte felt as if her heart would drop right out of her chest and through the floor of Hamish’s office. She had taken the ladies’ pro shop from a dusty basement to its own homey shed that she’d converted into the Loch Ladies’ Pro Shop. Charlotte’s merchandise was very popular, as she consistently consulted golf magazines and updated the wardrobe options from drab and functional to performance pretty. Her inventory always sold out, and the ladies constantly clamored for the newest arrivals, always praising Charlotte for her insights in not only functionality, but in clothes that made the ladies feel and look good. Pastel golf bags, gloves, cleats, and hats completed the ladies’ stylish ensembles.
A sharp needling of tears pierced Charlotte’s brown eyes. The news was ghastly and devastating. Not only was she losing her job, she was losing her home.
“I know it’s shocking, especially with what you’ve been through for the last few years. I know you have a lot of memories of your boys here.”
Your boys. Charlotte’s eyes could no longer hold back the tears at Hamish’s mention of her boys. Although they were no longer physically here, she felt them with her every moment in her little bungalow, a perk of the job, in which she had lived for over two decades. How was she supposed to leave her home?
“I’m sorry, Hamish. I don’t mean…” She wiped the tears from her eyes with the sleeve of her emerald green pullover, a gift from her boys.
Charlotte inhaled deeply, trying to compose herself, knowing that there was nothing she could do about the new management.
“So, when is our little world coming to an end?”
Hamish leaned back in his leather chair, its well-worn springs squeaking with his every movement. Charlotte could smell the comforting hint of the honey and lemon cleaner Hamish used daily on his beloved chair. His entire office was so very reminiscent of a den in a Scottish castle, with its highly polished woodwork shimmering in the rays of the sun that streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The walls were lined with shelves of books, all golf tomes, and where there were not bookshelves, the walls were adorned with paintings of famous golfers from various periods of time. His desk was masculine and large—a behemoth of a mahogany escritoire. Castle Loch was the sister golf club and course to Castle Inverness in the Scottish Highlands, and the sights and sounds of Scotland were clearly evident in this Massachusetts golf club.
“From what I hear, the new GM will start right before Memorial Day weekend, which is in about seven weeks. I just wanted to prepare you, Char. It’s better to know than not, and this way we can figure out a plan. Together. I will not be leaving you in any kind of lurch.”
“Well, I know what your plan is,” Charlotte said, her tears abating. Hamish had spoken often of returning to his beloved Scotland, and Charlotte knew this was his chance, especially because it was where Colin, Hamish’s son and daughter-in-law lived.
“Oh, you know me too well, Char,” he laughed, settling back into his old leather chair.
“I have missed Colin and now that he and Haleigh have given me a grandson, well, yes, it’s time for me to go home. For good,” he sighed.
“I’m so happy for you Hamish. Your heart has always truly been in Scotland.” Charlotte realized one day her beloved friend would return to his roots, and now that day was here.
Hamish rose from his chair and sat in the one next to Charlotte.
“I know that this is difficult for you. You’ve always been like a daughter to me, and I am going to make sure you’re taken care of as well. It’s my responsibility.”
“It’s no such thing, Hamish,” Charlotte replied solemnly. She took hold of his large and calloused hands.
“I made the decision to stay here. I could have left at any time, and I probably should have, but I was never ready. I have no choice now, and maybe this is actually a blessing in disguise. Things happen for a reason. I remember you telling me so many years ago when I did not get the buyer position at Howardson’s Emporium, which brought me to you, that when one door closes—”
“Another one opens,” he finished, and Charlotte felt his hands clasp tighter about hers.
“I think I might have a door that’s about to open for you, Char,” said Hamish, still holding onto Charlotte’s hands.
“I’d be the proverbial fish out of water in Scotland, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she said, smiling at her old friend. He would come up with an idea like that, she thought, watching the mischievous twinkle in his dark blue eyes.
“Aye, I’d love to take you with me, but I know America is your home, especially New England. So…” Hamish rose from the wing-back chair and returned to his old leather one on the opposite side of the desk. He slowly opened a drawer directly under the top of his desk and pulled out a green folder with the Castle Loch logo imprinted on it. He handed it across the desk to Charlotte.
“What’s this?” she asked, taking the folder.
“Your next challenge.”
“What are you talking about?” Charlotte could not imagine what the folder could possibly contain.
Hamish shut the desk drawer. “Charlotte, what you’ve done with Loch Ladies was nothing short of brilliant. Remember when it was a tiny corner in that dusty old basement of the men’s pro shop? In less than two years, not only did you update the inventory, but you also cleaned that old shed next to the clubhouse and created a paradise for the female members here. And you did it on your own. The success of Loch Ladies is all due to you. And I think you are up to the challenge of tackling something similar again. It’s all in that green folder.”
Charlotte opened the folder and found a tourist brochure. It had a huge lobster claw superimposed over views of the ocean.
“Lobster Claw, Maine? Are you sending me on that long-needed vacation?” She laughed at the name on the brochure, wondering how in the world a town had such a ridiculous name.
“An absolutely gorgeous place, if I do say so myself. Very reminiscent of Scotland, but that’s my humble opinion. My old friend Rory Ruskin ran a place up there, but his heart’s not it in any longer, and he’s returned to Nova Scotia to be back with his family.”
“Heart’s not in what, Hamish?” Charlotte asked, as this was sounding more cryptic by the moment. What in the world did Hamish have in mind for her? She suddenly noticed a roguish twinkle in his blueberry eyes.
“A store. A souvenir sort of place. Did very well at one time, but when Rory’s wife passed, ah, well, you know, I think she was the true heart and soul of the place, and he just couldn’t be there without her any longer.”
“So the place is empty? Why doesn’t he just sell it?” Charlotte asked.
“Can’t say I know, lass. All I do know is that it would be great to have the place occupied, and maybe get the store back up and running. Might be something you’d be interested in.” This was a statement, not a question.
“Hamish, I—I don’t know what to think. So much has happened so quickly.” Her little cottage on the green, the home she made with her boys, was no longer hers, and neither was Loch Ladies. Castle Loch held all of her beloved memories and now Hamish was talking about moving her to some crazy-sounding town in Maine.
“Char, I know it’s a lot. But the club as we know it is coming to an end, and we both must move on.” Hamish’s words were gentle but true. “Take home the folder and think it over, and we can talk again tomorrow. How’s that?”
“Thanks, Hamish. I promise I’ll read every word tonight.” Charlotte put the brochure back into the folder and let it rest on Hamish’s desk.
“Good girl.” She then chuckled to his reference of “girl,” as she was officially now a fifty-two-year-old woman.
Whether a situation was dire or delightful, Hamish Falconer could always bring optimism and a generous smile, which eased Charlotte tremendously.
Charlotte rose from her wing back chair, tucking the folder under her arm.
“Looks like you’re going to keep me busy this evening.” Charlotte walked to the other side of Hamish’s desk and placed a daughterly kiss on his bearded cheek. She could see the blush rise on his ruddy face which made her love him all the more.
Hamish Falconer sat in his worn leather chair in the executive office at Castle Loch Country and Golf Club where he had been the General Manager for forty years. Even at age 73, he still maintained as much of his effervescence, energy, and Scottish accent as when he started as the assistant manager so many decades ago. His coal black hair had only a few threads of alabaster running through it, and it was still thick as when he was a young man, and combed neatly away from his face. His large, blueberry eyes were framed by heavy, dark eyebrows. Although still handsome, deep lines now crossed over his forehead and under his eyes, while a coarse salt-and-pepper mustache and beard covered his strong upper lip and jawline. Hamish continued to maintain a trim figure thanks to the many rounds of golf he loved to play each week, and at six and a half feet tall, he cut a most formidable figure.
Charlotte Templeton, Hamish’s long-time employee and friend, sat in a similar wing-backed chair on the opposite side of his desk. Charlotte couldn’t believe it had been over two decades since she had graduated from Boston’s Calloway Junior College with her fashion merchandising degree, and that Hamish Falconer, the revered General Manager of the Castle Loch Golf and Country Club had offered her a job as the ladies members pro shop buyer. In the twenty-five years they had worked together, Charlotte had come to consider Hamish more of a father figure than her boss.
Although her own brown hair was becoming more pearlescent, she felt she still maintained the enthusiasm of her younger self that had first interviewed to be the ladies’ golf wear buyer all those years ago. Her eyes were just as brown and bright, even though tiny lines now creased at the edges and upon her upper lip. She kept busy and took care of herself, and her 5’2” frame was still slender and athletic, due to being so busy and enjoying an occasional round of golf herself.
“I can’t say I’m surprised,” continued Hamish. “I hoped it wouldn’t happen, but I’d heard rumblings of the club going under new management. Rumors like that popped up here and there over my years here, but nothing ever came of it. Until now.”
Charlotte felt as if her heart would drop right out of her chest and through the floor of Hamish’s office. She had taken the ladies’ pro shop from a dusty basement to its own homey shed that she’d converted into the Loch Ladies’ Pro Shop. Charlotte’s merchandise was very popular, as she consistently consulted golf magazines and updated the wardrobe options from drab and functional to performance pretty. Her inventory always sold out, and the ladies constantly clamored for the newest arrivals, always praising Charlotte for her insights in not only functionality, but in clothes that made the ladies feel and look good. Pastel golf bags, gloves, cleats, and hats completed the ladies’ stylish ensembles.
A sharp needling of tears pierced Charlotte’s brown eyes. The news was ghastly and devastating. Not only was she losing her job, she was losing her home.
“I know it’s shocking, especially with what you’ve been through for the last few years. I know you have a lot of memories of your boys here.”
Your boys. Charlotte’s eyes could no longer hold back the tears at Hamish’s mention of her boys. Although they were no longer physically here, she felt them with her every moment in her little bungalow, a perk of the job, in which she had lived for over two decades. How was she supposed to leave her home?
“I’m sorry, Hamish. I don’t mean…” She wiped the tears from her eyes with the sleeve of her emerald green pullover, a gift from her boys.
Charlotte inhaled deeply, trying to compose herself, knowing that there was nothing she could do about the new management.
“So, when is our little world coming to an end?”
Hamish leaned back in his leather chair, its well-worn springs squeaking with his every movement. Charlotte could smell the comforting hint of the honey and lemon cleaner Hamish used daily on his beloved chair. His entire office was so very reminiscent of a den in a Scottish castle, with its highly polished woodwork shimmering in the rays of the sun that streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The walls were lined with shelves of books, all golf tomes, and where there were not bookshelves, the walls were adorned with paintings of famous golfers from various periods of time. His desk was masculine and large—a behemoth of a mahogany escritoire. Castle Loch was the sister golf club and course to Castle Inverness in the Scottish Highlands, and the sights and sounds of Scotland were clearly evident in this Massachusetts golf club.
“From what I hear, the new GM will start right before Memorial Day weekend, which is in about seven weeks. I just wanted to prepare you, Char. It’s better to know than not, and this way we can figure out a plan. Together. I will not be leaving you in any kind of lurch.”
“Well, I know what your plan is,” Charlotte said, her tears abating. Hamish had spoken often of returning to his beloved Scotland, and Charlotte knew this was his chance, especially because it was where Colin, Hamish’s son and daughter-in-law lived.
“Oh, you know me too well, Char,” he laughed, settling back into his old leather chair.
“I have missed Colin and now that he and Haleigh have given me a grandson, well, yes, it’s time for me to go home. For good,” he sighed.
“I’m so happy for you Hamish. Your heart has always truly been in Scotland.” Charlotte realized one day her beloved friend would return to his roots, and now that day was here.
Hamish rose from his chair and sat in the one next to Charlotte.
“I know that this is difficult for you. You’ve always been like a daughter to me, and I am going to make sure you’re taken care of as well. It’s my responsibility.”
“It’s no such thing, Hamish,” Charlotte replied solemnly. She took hold of his large and calloused hands.
“I made the decision to stay here. I could have left at any time, and I probably should have, but I was never ready. I have no choice now, and maybe this is actually a blessing in disguise. Things happen for a reason. I remember you telling me so many years ago when I did not get the buyer position at Howardson’s Emporium, which brought me to you, that when one door closes—”
“Another one opens,” he finished, and Charlotte felt his hands clasp tighter about hers.
“I think I might have a door that’s about to open for you, Char,” said Hamish, still holding onto Charlotte’s hands.
“I’d be the proverbial fish out of water in Scotland, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she said, smiling at her old friend. He would come up with an idea like that, she thought, watching the mischievous twinkle in his dark blue eyes.
“Aye, I’d love to take you with me, but I know America is your home, especially New England. So…” Hamish rose from the wing-back chair and returned to his old leather one on the opposite side of the desk. He slowly opened a drawer directly under the top of his desk and pulled out a green folder with the Castle Loch logo imprinted on it. He handed it across the desk to Charlotte.
“What’s this?” she asked, taking the folder.
“Your next challenge.”
“What are you talking about?” Charlotte could not imagine what the folder could possibly contain.
Hamish shut the desk drawer. “Charlotte, what you’ve done with Loch Ladies was nothing short of brilliant. Remember when it was a tiny corner in that dusty old basement of the men’s pro shop? In less than two years, not only did you update the inventory, but you also cleaned that old shed next to the clubhouse and created a paradise for the female members here. And you did it on your own. The success of Loch Ladies is all due to you. And I think you are up to the challenge of tackling something similar again. It’s all in that green folder.”
Charlotte opened the folder and found a tourist brochure. It had a huge lobster claw superimposed over views of the ocean.
“Lobster Claw, Maine? Are you sending me on that long-needed vacation?” She laughed at the name on the brochure, wondering how in the world a town had such a ridiculous name.
“An absolutely gorgeous place, if I do say so myself. Very reminiscent of Scotland, but that’s my humble opinion. My old friend Rory Ruskin ran a place up there, but his heart’s not it in any longer, and he’s returned to Nova Scotia to be back with his family.”
“Heart’s not in what, Hamish?” Charlotte asked, as this was sounding more cryptic by the moment. What in the world did Hamish have in mind for her? She suddenly noticed a roguish twinkle in his blueberry eyes.
“A store. A souvenir sort of place. Did very well at one time, but when Rory’s wife passed, ah, well, you know, I think she was the true heart and soul of the place, and he just couldn’t be there without her any longer.”
“So the place is empty? Why doesn’t he just sell it?” Charlotte asked.
“Can’t say I know, lass. All I do know is that it would be great to have the place occupied, and maybe get the store back up and running. Might be something you’d be interested in.” This was a statement, not a question.
“Hamish, I—I don’t know what to think. So much has happened so quickly.” Her little cottage on the green, the home she made with her boys, was no longer hers, and neither was Loch Ladies. Castle Loch held all of her beloved memories and now Hamish was talking about moving her to some crazy-sounding town in Maine.
“Char, I know it’s a lot. But the club as we know it is coming to an end, and we both must move on.” Hamish’s words were gentle but true. “Take home the folder and think it over, and we can talk again tomorrow. How’s that?”
“Thanks, Hamish. I promise I’ll read every word tonight.” Charlotte put the brochure back into the folder and let it rest on Hamish’s desk.
“Good girl.” She then chuckled to his reference of “girl,” as she was officially now a fifty-two-year-old woman.
Whether a situation was dire or delightful, Hamish Falconer could always bring optimism and a generous smile, which eased Charlotte tremendously.
Charlotte rose from her wing back chair, tucking the folder under her arm.
“Looks like you’re going to keep me busy this evening.” Charlotte walked to the other side of Hamish’s desk and placed a daughterly kiss on his bearded cheek. She could see the blush rise on his ruddy face which made her love him all the more.
