Hope Harbor

by Jill Sanders

  “What do you want?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

  The one thing she had going for her was that her fuzzy pajamas were the least sexy thing she owned. They were made for comfort and not sex. Thankfully.

  “Okay, I lied,” he said, turning on her. “I was hoping that you had changed your mind.” He tilted his head at her. “Where did you get those hideous things?” he asked, motioning to her pajamas with a frown.

  She smiled and glanced down at them. “Do you like them? They were a happy divorce day present to myself.” She did a little spin, showing him the full effect of the two large bright smiley faces that covered her ass.

  He shook his head and moved closer. “I meant what I said. I can give you… things. All I ask in return is for things to go back to the way they were.”

  “You mean, physically?” she asked, standing her ground.

  “Yes.” His dark eyes ran over her, and she was surprised to see sexual interest behind them. Instead of making her feel desired, as it used to, she felt nothing at all. Whatever she’d once felt for him had died long ago.

  “Brent, it’s just not going to work. I can’t pretend that we don’t have a past. That you aren’t… you.”

  His eyes changed, and she braced herself for the fight she knew was coming. Since that night, a little over three months ago, she knew better than to push him too much farther.

  “I told you, I was under a lot of stress that night. I needed to blow off some steam.” He ran his hands through his hair and started pacing in her small apartment. “This is just a tiff. You’ll see, I’ve got everything under control again. Dad has officially made me head of the department, finally, and now we don’t have to struggle with money the way we were at the beginning.”

  Money had been his excuse for pushing her and going too far that night when they’d fought. She’d come home from a long drive that had cleared her head to him sitting on the sofa with two women pleasing him. One had her mouth wrapped around his dick and the other was riding his face. A stack of cash and drugs had been spread all over their coffee table.

  Eve hadn’t needed or wanted the big house, the new cars, or the debt. It had all been Brent’s doing, and he’d done it all behind her back, surprising her with the massive debt that he’d accumulated and then blamed on her.

  Still, her eyebrows shot up at his use of the word we.

  “Brent, there is no ‘we,’ anymore.” She held her ground. No matter how hot his eyes got, she could never imagine herself with him again. She’d been fooled by him once and wasn’t going to fall for the same tricks again.

  He surprised her by laughing and motioning around. “You want to live in this rat cage for the rest of your life? Working a meaningless job flipping burgers for minimum wage?” He leaned closer to her and suddenly she smelled bourbon on his breath. She knew he only drank the expensive stuff, since she’d had to keep it stocked in their house. “Because trust me, darling, with my family’s connections, I can make that happen.” His hands moved to her shoulders.

  Then, just as quickly as he’d grabbed her, he moved away, causing her to sway slightly.

  “I’ll give you until the morning to answer me.” His eyes ran up and down her in disgust at her attire. “If you want your job and all the stipulations, then be at the office on time. If not”—he chuckled— “good luck trying to get another job in Seattle.” He turned and jerked open her door and disappeared through it.

  2

  Shaken

  Eve tried to settle down, but her entire body vibrated with anger after Brent left. After a quick cleaning spree to work off her anger, she sat back down and started working on her laptop once again. By the time the sun was streaking in her small window, she felt she had a halfway decent resume ready.

  When her phone rang, she ignored it, thinking it was the office checking on why she was late. But when it rang a second time, she glanced down at the screen and groaned when she saw her mother’s number.

  Was it possible that her mother had already heard the news that she was jobless? Her family never gave up a chance to rub her lack of success in her face, even though they themselves lived off the kindness of Eve’s grandfather, Reggie, who owned and ran the very successful upstate resort Candlewood Inn, which had been in the family for several generations now.

  When her parents had married, her mother had insisted on keeping the Candlewood name. Her father hadn’t argued. The young couple had moved into the inn shortly before Eve had been born and had yet to leave.

  Along with her parents, her aunts, uncles, and her cousins all lived on the grounds, mooching off the wealth and success of the inn, using it as their very own private club and income, even though she knew firsthand that none of them lifted a finger to ensure the success of the business.

  If word had already reached them that Brent had fired her, she was doomed to suffer the nagging and the many ‘I told you so’s’ from each and every one of them.

  Closing her eyes, she leaned back and answered the call.

  “Hello, Mother,” she said, trying to hide the annoyance in her voice.

  She knew instantly that something was off when her mother sniffled in reply.

  “Evelyn, Grandpa’s dead,” her mother blurted out.

  Eve jerked up, sitting ramrod straight as her eyes flew open, unseeing.

  Grandpa Reggie. The only family member in her life who had believed in her. The only person who had encouraged her to go to school, to pursue her own dreams. One of the only ones who had loved her was dead.

  “Reach for the moon my girl and if you miss, grab hold of a star instead.” He’d said those words to her more times then she could count.

  “Wh… what?” She shook her head, unable to accept what her mother was saying.

  “Your grandfather passed away last night in his sleep,” she reiterated.

  Eve closed her eyes as they started to burn. “How?”

  “We don’t know. It must have been his heart. He was just… gone,” her mother said with a soft cry. “I found him… he hadn’t come down for his morning coffee and I went to check on him and…” She could hear her mother shift the phone. “You have to come home.”

  “Yes.” Eve stood up, suddenly, glancing around for her luggage and clean clothes. “I’ll drive up.”

  “We’ll expect you later.” Her mother hung up without saying goodbye. She didn’t hold it against her, since she knew that she probably had a lot on her mind. Hell, Eve was so overwhelmed by the news, it took her more than two hours to pack and throw what she could into the used car she’d bought a few days after the divorce was finalized.

  She drove the almost four hours up Puget Sound towards Orcas Island, a trip Eve didn’t make often. In the past nine years since she’d left home, she’d only been back twice. She’d dreaded the visit completely, except for the time she’d spend with her grandfather.

  By the time she boarded the ferry to the island, her mother had called her more than a half dozen times to check on her status.

  Orcas Island was the second largest of the topmost islands near the Canadian border. Even though it was second in size, there were fewer than five thousand people living on the island year-round.

  Most of the tourists to the island were a direct result of her grandfather’s inn, that and the large preserve and state park that ate up most of the island.

  She knew the roads from the ferry docks to the inn like the back of her hand. Still, it had been years since she’d been home and she was a little surprised at all the potholes she had to swerve to avoid. Had there been this many when she’d lived here?

  She drove through Hope Harbor. The inn was less than two miles out of the small town she’d grown up in.

  The town looked the same, with its old main street that consisted of five buildings and one stop sign. There was a new pizzeria and bank at the corner, along with a new gas station and bait shop.

  Still, not much had changed. Passing the school and library, she was
almost to the last turnoff towards the inn when something caught her eye, causing her to slow the car down. That something was a man. To be more exact, a very sexy man.

  The guy was standing in the driveway of her friend Holly’s old log house. She knew that Holly’s parents had sold the place a few years back, after her father’s death.

  What had caused her to slow down and gawk was the fact that the man had removed his shirt and was full of some of the sexiest muscles she had ever witnessed. The sun made his skin glow and glisten from the sheen of sweat dripping down his back.

  He was standing in front of a table saw, cutting a very long piece of wood. His legs were spread wide as he concentrated on his work. A tool belt hung low on his hips, pulling his jeans down far enough that she got a view of his hip bones. She watched the muscles in his arms and shoulders work as he pushed the board through the sharp blade with ease and skill.

  When he turned towards her after he was done cutting the piece of wood, she marveled at his very impressive six-pack.

  Her mouth watered at the sight. How long had it been since she’d felt a stir like this? Long before she’d married Brent. With him, the sexual tension had died quickly, if there had ever really been any. She believed that even in that arena, he’d fooled her.

  Swallowing the desire, she glanced up and saw she was about to miss her turn. She slammed on her brakes, and gravel spit up around her as she skidded to a stop. Putting the car in reverse, she spotted the man watching her. He was less than ten feet away from her, and she thought that she could see him smiling at her as she pulled into the long drive of the inn.

  Damn. She sighed.

  “Okay, sexy dream guy, get out of my head,” she said to herself as she drove up the bumpy lane. When the large white four-story inn came into view, she felt her heart skip at the thought of her grandfather not being there to greet her.

  Passing the last of the large wooden carved signs that read “Candlewood Inn” in gold lettering, she parked in the main parking lot and took a moment to collect her thoughts. She knew how to put on a mask, to shield herself from the horrors that her family usually brought upon her the moment she stepped foot in her old home.

  Even though she had grown up living in an inn, it hadn’t changed her life in the least. Her mother and father had lived in a three-room suite on the top floor, just down the hallway from her grandfather’s own suite. Actually, while growing up, the entire top floor had been dedicated to her family. When her great-grandfather had the place built, his large family had taken over the entire west wing of the inn.

  Eve didn’t know if most of her family members were still living in the inn, since she limited her phone calls to her mother and father to five minutes each. Her father usually called on her birthday or holidays and said a few words to her, while her mother usually called her to nag or complain about something and never asked Eve how she was doing.

  Gathering her strength, she climbed out of the car, pulling her large suitcase with her. Of course, Timothy, one of the inn’s oldest employees was there to help her carry her luggage in.

  “Thanks, Timothy.” She gave the older man a hug.

  “I’m so sorry, miss, for your loss,” he said, holding onto her gently.

  “Has everyone arrived?” she asked.

  The man’s steps faltered. “Yes, ma’am,” he finally answered. “They’re in the main drawing room.” He held one of the massive double doors open for her.

  Stepping into the two-story entry of the inn was like stepping back in time. That or stepping directly onto an Alfred Hitchcock movie set. The old place was in desperate need of a face-lift. Inside and out.

  Still, it was the fanciest place to stay along the group of islands that bordered the United States and Canada. Which meant the inn was usually packed. She stepped inside and glanced around. There wasn’t another person in sight.

  Hearing voices coming from across the entryway, she turned to Timothy.

  “Just leave those behind the counter. I’ll carry them up with me later.” She touched the man’s arm.

  “No bother.” He shook his head. “I’ll carry them up to your rooms. Your mother has put you in your grandfather’s suite.”

  “She…” Eve swallowed. “She has?”

  “Yes, miss. The rest of the floor is filled and it’s the only room available.”

  “Fine.” It was no use arguing with Timothy, since he was only doing what he was told. And arguing with her mother had never really worked out for her either.

  Stepping into the drawing room, she braced herself for the onslaught of attention, only to be completely ignored. Her uncle Gerald and her father, Thomas, were in the middle of a heated conversation. The two men were toe to toe, their faces red with anger as everyone else in the room sat watching the show.

  Gerald and Roger were twins, with her mother Grace coming almost eight years after their birth. Her uncles were the spitting image of their father, minus the patience and charm. Their black hair was streaked with silver while Reggie’s had been completely gray as far back as she could remember.

  Eve’s mother, Grace, had taken after Gerald’s wife, Gloria, or so Eve had been told. Gloria had died of lung cancer long before Eve had been born.

  Both Gerald and her father were dressed in expensive suits as if they had jobs in the city instead of a daily life that consisted of lounging around the inn and getting everything they wanted with a snap of their fingers.

  “I don’t care what the lawyer says, I’m going to be there when they read my father’s will,” her uncle was saying.

  Taking the opportunity to glance around the room before she was noticed, Eve took in all the familiar faces. Some had grown older and more fragile looking.

  Her aunt Louisa, Gerald’s wife, sat looking nervous in the chair closest to her husband. The woman was never too far from her husband and, growing up, Eve had imagined that the woman’s spine had been permanently fused to her husband’s. Her dark brown hair had been styled and cut short, a change since Eve had seen her last. The fact that she was wearing stylish clothes didn’t surprise Eve. The woman’s tastes had always gravitated to the expensive.

  Their son, Logan, Eve’s twenty-five-year-old cousin, sat in the corner, watching something on his phone. The dark-haired man’s long legs dangled over the chair, much like a teenager would sit.

  Liv, his sister, who was two years younger than her brother, was busy looking at her own phone. Her short, bleach-blond curls fell in front of her perfect face.

  Both her cousins looked like their parents. Logan looked like his mother, where Liv looked like her uncle and grandfather, even with her recent nose and boob job.

  The family was the epitome of perfection, down to her cousin’s perfectly painted toenails sticking out of her high-heeled sandals.

  The family was dressed as if heading out for a night in the city, rather than sitting around the inn, a place they called home, fighting with family members.

  Eve’s great-aunt Ramona, sister to her grandfather, was sitting in a rocking chair, a large walker next to her as she looked nervously on over the fight. The woman had been old when Eve had been young, and now she looked ancient. Ramona was the only one besides Reggie who had been nice to her growing up. Her clothes were a little more practical, yet Eve had never seen her aunt in anything except dresses and dress shoes. Eve chalked it up to growing up in a different era.

  Her uncle, Roger, was sitting next to his wife, Regina. The man wore a suit, like the rest of the men in the room. Regina was the diva in the family.

  She was dressed in the latest Paris styles, her long blond hair flowing around her shoulders and a pair of designer sunglasses blocking her eyes from the rest of the room as she sipped what was most likely Scotch from a glass. Her crossed legs swayed to an internal tune or with irritation. Eve could never tell with the woman.

  Regina had been an accomplished interior designer before she’d married Roger and become a full-time mother to their son, Steve, who was
now a thirty-nine-year-old man-child. The oldest of the grandchildren, he had in the past few years demanded everyone call him by the name Fray.

  Steve looked the same as he had when Eve had left. He wore the same board shorts and tank top. His long blond hair was tied in a low ponytail and was way too thin, which only showcased a growing bald spot on his crown. A platinum-blond woman was sitting on his lap in very tight shorts and a tank top that kept slipping down her tan shoulders, almost exposing her very ample breasts. The pair were, as with her other cousins, totally engrossed in their phones.

  Eve’s mother finally stepped between her father and her uncle.

  “Enough.” Her mother, Grace Candlewood, put a hand to Eve’s father’s chest and nudged him aside.

  “There’s no use arguing. The lawyer made it very clear. Only those on the list are to attend the reading of the will.”

  It was then that she caught her mother’s eye. Her mother hadn’t changed much. She was sporting a new longer hairstyle, which she still dyed a deep brown with hints of caramel highlights.

  Eve had her mother’s eyes and hair. Eve had stopped highlighting her hair after the divorce in order to save money.

  Her mother was also dressed to impress, making Eve wish she’d changed out of the worn jeans and sweatshirt she’d pulled on before leaving her apartment.

  “Evelyn, you’re here.” Her mother crossed the room and kissed each of Eve’s cheek as if they were old friends meeting for brunch. Eve had cried for almost an hour before she’d packed up and left her apartment. She’d cried in private so she wouldn’t cry in front of her family. Still, her eyes burned at the missing person in the room. Her grandfather, Reggie.

  “Mom,” she said calmly back. It wasn’t as if they were on bad terms, she just knew how to deal with her family. The ten people sitting in the drawing room were some of the most selfish people Eve had ever known. Almost as bad as Brent had been.