Brides at Coconuts (Coconuts Series)

by Beth Carter

  Once the area was cleaned up, Hope drove home with a smile on her face. It worked. They loved it. The next time I’ll have to join in or I won’t lose a pound before the wedding.

  Chapter 61

  Suzy cooked dinner since the twins were asleep. Ken sat at the kitchen table and decided to try and engage Izzy via Skype. Before he signed on, he asked, “Need any help, Suz?”

  “Nah. I cooked pork chops all day in my secret barbecue sauce. They’re in the crock pot and almost done.”

  “Mmm. I love you and your secret sauce.”

  “Ha. I’m going to boil some corn on the cob and open a can of spinach. It’ll be ready in twenty minutes.”

  “Sounds delicious, babe. I’m going to reach out to Izzy again.” Ken dialed her number and stared at the screen. When his daughter’s image came into focus, Ken relaxed. “Hi, Iz. It’s great to see you. How’s Hollywood?”

  “Hi, Dad. I love it here.”

  “Good.” Ken worked hard to control the emotion in his face since that response wasn’t the one he wanted. “And school? How’s that going?”

  “You know.” Izzy shrugged. “Same ol’.”

  “Are you making new friends?”

  She shrugged again. “One or two, I guess.”

  “You guess? Usually the new girl is popular.” Ken took a sip of scotch.

  “Either popular or hated.” A nervous laugh escaped. “I’m more the latter, I think. But no prob. Everything’s cool.”

  Ken scooted closer to the screen. “What do you mean hated? How could anyone hate you?”

  “Forget it. It’s just jealous girl stuff. The usual.”

  “How are your grades?”

  “What is this, an interrogation?” Izzy turned as a tall shadow appeared in the background.

  The man closed the front door and said, “Hey, Iz. Ready?”

  Ken stared behind his daughter at the bun-wearing, back-packing, tattooed man on the screen. His mouth went dry. “Izzy, you okay?”

  “Yep. Gotta go. Brody is giving me surfing lessons.”

  “Brody?”

  “You know. Mom’s boyfriend.”

  The man with tattooed flames around his neck gave Ken a peace sign. “Yo, man. How’s it goin’?”

  Ken bit his lip to keep from saying, nice bun but let it go. “Since when do you know how to surf, Iz?”

  She turned toward Brody. “Since Brody is teaching me.”

  Ken’s voice rose. “Are you surfing in the ocean?”

  The teen laughed. “Where else would you surf, dude?”

  Tone flat, Ken said, “I’m Dad, not dude.”

  “Yeah, okay. Bye. Love you.”

  “I love—” The connection went dead before he finished. Staring at the blank screen, Ken wished Suzy had seen Brody.

  He traipsed into the kitchen and refilled his scotch. “I don’t like this. Not at all.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  After Ken gave her a summary of Brody and the fact that Izzy was going surfing, Suzy put her arms around his neck. “Ken, relax. She’s got a good head on her shoulders.” Suzy rolled her eyes as she hugged her husband, remembering the time Izzy and her friend left in the middle of the night and the entire school and CCPD sent out search teams. She’ll be all right.

  Chapter 62

  Britney bounded into Hope’s office after lunch.

  Hearing footsteps, Hope turned from her computer and smiled. “Hi, Brit.”

  The student’s face fell. “I have a problem, Miss Truman. My mom said she can’t work the concession stand tonight. She wouldn’t say what she’s doing.” Britney’s voice broke. “She always bales and makes me look bad.” The young student stared at her worn tennis shoes. “I knew I shouldn’t have signed her up for a shift. I’d take it but I have to study for three tests tomorrow. You know my grade point average isn’t great to begin with.” Tears filled her eyes. “I hate it when she embarrasses me like this. It’s one lousy four-hour shift selling hot dogs and popcorn.” She crossed her arms. “What should I do?”

  Hope assessed her evening plans which didn’t take long since Tucker was on the road. “Well, I had a date with Netflix, but I’ll survive.”

  “Really? You’d do that? You’ll take her shift?”

  “Really. It might be fun. I haven’t worked the concession stand in years.” Hope chuckled. “As long as I get a free hot dog out of the deal, I’m in.”

  “Thank you, Miss Truman. You’re the best.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Knowing the night air would be chilly, Hope dressed in jeans, a long navy turtleneck sweater, and brown knee boots. At the stadium, football players, coaches, cheerleaders, students, and parents stood in line to buy tickets to the game while Hope and Willow busied themselves behind the concession stand.

  They popped popcorn, took cups out of plastic sleeves, warmed the hot dogs, separated the buns, and made sure they had plenty of change.

  “I didn’t know you were working tonight,” Willow said as she turned the hot dogs with a tong.

  Hope scooped the newly popped warm popcorn and mixed it with a colder batch. “I’m filling in for someone.” She didn’t want to embarrass Britney further since she was in Willow’s art class.

  “Nice of you,” Willow said. “Mac couldn’t make it. He’s nursing a bum back.”

  “Is Larry, I mean Mac, okay?”

  Willow shook the ketchup and mustard bottles and took the lid off a jar of relish. “He slipped on a stair he had just mopped. He’ll be fine after a few Advil and a heating pad. I also cooled a beer for him.”

  Hope chuckled, remembering how much her adoptive dad loved his evening beer. “That should do the trick.”

  A line of rowdy students quickly formed in front of the concession stand. “Hi, Miss Truman. That popcorn smells good.”

  “Want some?” Hope asked.

  “We’ll take four bags, shouted the guy behind him.”

  “Hey, I was here first. Wait your turn.”

  Hope put her hand on her hips. “Boys, even though you’re out of school, this is a school event. Remember your manners.”

  “Yes, Miss Truman,” several males echoed.

  Hope and Willow filled multiple orders as quickly as they could, making more popcorn, and heating hot dogs like they were in the Indy 500. Hope brushed sweat off her top lip. “I hope I lost five pounds working that fast.”

  “I hope you didn’t,” a familiar male voice said.

  Hope spun around. “Tucker. What are you doing here?”

  “You texted me that you were filling in for someone, remember?”

  “Yeah, but I thought you were on the road until tomorrow.” Hope noticed Willow was eavesdropping.

  “They finally finished the highway construction near Oklahoma City. I got home two hours earlier than usual.” He held both arms out. “Surprise.”

  Willow wandered over and extended her hand. “I recognize you from the school dance but we didn’t officially meet. I’m Willow, one of Hope’s colleagues.”

  “Willow,” Hope’s voice rose. “This is my fiancé.”

  The art teacher’s face brightened. “Well, well. You’re a lucky man. Congratulations.”

  Tucker’s eyes twinkled. “That I am.”

  Willow turned two more hotdogs. “Can I get you anything?”

  “As a matter of fact, I’d love two hot dogs, mustard, and relish, please.” He winked at Hope. “When do you get off? I haven’t seen a football game in two decades.”

  Willow handed him the hot dogs and said, “Scoot, you two. I’ve got this.” She paused. “I’ll find someone to help me during halftime.”

  “That’s so nice of you,” Hope said. “Thanks. Text me if you can’t find anyone to pop popco
rn. I can come back and help.”

  Willow pointed. “I see Dr. Holmes walking in. I’ll wave her over. I bet the principal would love to help. I need to get on her good side anyway since I was late twice last week.”

  Hope said, “If you’re sure.”

  “I’m positive.” Willow’s bracelets clanged as she waved. “Go.”

  Hope filled a few more bags of popcorn and reached for Tucker’s hand, as they climbed the bleachers. She saw plenty of students stare, wave, and many said hello as they ascended to the top third with a great view of the game. Pointing, she said, “Hilltop’s team is in the red and black.”

  Tucker put his arm across her shoulders and then promptly took it off. “You probably don’t want your kids to see us make out.”

  She put her hand on his leg. “Probably not, but we can hold hands.” They huddled together on the bleachers to cheer on the Hilltop Bulldogs, even though Hope didn’t know the first thing—or care—about football.

  Tucker explained some of the plays. Hope observed the players on the field and shrugged. “I still don’t get it, but I’m having fun.” While watching the game, she scanned the crowd with great intent and pointed to the cheerleaders doing flips and cartwheels on the track. “Do you realize one of them could be your daughter?”

  Tucker’s eyebrows shot up. “Guess you’re right.” Glancing over the crowd, he began studying all of the females. “It could be anyone here.”

  “A ‘she’ not ‘it’.”

  “Sorry, I’m still getting used to this.”

  The Kilties lined up to perform during halftime. Hope and Tucker stood to watch as the majorette led the corps onto the field. Hope peeked at her phone but Willow hadn’t texted. “I’ll be right back. She may be too busy to call me. I don’t want to leave Willow stranded at halftime.”

  “I’ll be here.” Tucker smiled as buglers from the Kiltie Drum & Bugle Corps began, twirlers threw batons in the air, and drummers clicked their drumsticks before performing cadences on snare and tenor drums. The entire corps marched in unison led by a majorette wearing an enormous black feathered hat.

  “Be right back.” Hope stepped down the bleachers and made her way through the crowd. Willow and Dr. Holmes were behind the concession stand. She stood in line to get two cups of hot chocolate since the air had cooled dramatically. Once she ordered, Hope said, “What do you think of Tucker?”

  “He’s handsome in a big, scruffy, broad-shouldered kind of way.” Willow smiled. “He reminds me of a lumberjack.”

  “A good-looking, sweet lumberjack.” Hope took the cups of hot chocolate and thanked Dr. Holmes for taking her shift. When she sat back down, the Kilties were marching in formation. “I love hearing the drums and bagpipes.”

  He nodded. “They’re excellent.”

  “They’ve won several competitions. I love those girls. The corps has a rich tradition.

  Tucker reached for a hot chocolate. “This’ll hit the spot.”

  Pointing with her cup, she said, “And one of the Kilties could be your daughter too. I still can’t wrap my head around this.”

  Tucker reached for her free hand. “I know. I need to take one of those DNA tests I see on TV—and fast. Maybe I’ll get lucky and my daughter will have registered and be in the database.” He shook his head. “Probably not, but it’s worth a shot.”

  Hope nodded. “That’s definitely a good place to start. If you want me to help—”

  Shaking his head, Tucker said, “Let me handle this. I’ll keep you informed the second I know anything.”

  Chapter 63

  The following week Tucker broke out in a sweat as he paced. I’ll know the lab results soon. At his doctor’s suggestion, he had gone to a respected laboratory and taken a buccal cheek swab several days prior.

  A nurse had called his name, explained the process and said he’d receive a discrete envelope in the mail.

  ~ ~ ~

  Tucker sat in his favorite recliner after retrieving the day’s mail. Surprised to see an envelope from the lab so soon, his heart pounded. Life-changing results are in this envelope. Heart racing, his thumb made an indention from gripping it so hard. He stared at the envelope, set it on the counter, and picked it up again for the tenth time. I wish Hope were here for this momentous moment, but I need to find out on my own before I tell her. I need to make this right.

  An hour had passed as he sat in his chair and drank a beer for courage. He glanced at the envelope in his lap and finally conjured up the courage to rip it open:

  Dear Mr. Jensen,

  Your DNA results are enclosed. We’re pleased to tell you that you have a match in our system. Please make arrangements with a trusted source—physician, attorney, or social worker—to proceed since the other party is a minor. For your information, since the party is in one of the ancestry databases, she may already realize she has a match. As occasionally happens, the minor may want to remain anonymous. Let us know if you have further—

  Tucker stopped reading and sat bolt upright. “I have to find her before she finds me. She likely already thinks I’m the worst dad in the world.” He called Hope. “What’s your principal’s name?”

  “Why?”

  “I’ll tell you later.”

  “Dr. Holmes.” Hope paused. “Is there anything I should know?”

  “I need to call her first. I’ll explain everything over dinner tonight,” Tucker said, as he wrote down the principal’s name. “How does Italian sound?”

  “Dreamy. See you in a few.”

  ~ ~ ~

  As the server brought heaping platters of spaghetti and meatballs and fettucine, Hope waited until he left. She poised her fork in mid-air. “I can’t eat a bite until you tell me your news.”

  Tucker took a big gulp of red wine. “I’ll cut to the chase. I got my DNA results back today and there’s a match.”

  Hope’s fork clattered onto her plate. “Oh, my God. Who is she?”

  He blew out his breath. “The lab said they couldn’t tell me since she’s a minor. We already know she’s a teen, so that’s understandable.”

  “Why did you call Dr. Holmes?”

  “Since the girl’s grandparents used to live in Hilltop’s neighborhood, I decided to go out on a limb and try and get all of the information I could about female students from broken families.” He shrugged. “It’s farfetched, I know, but the girl could have been raised in the area. Then again, she may be in another state.” He shrugged. “I asked the principal for the names of her female students who didn’t have known fathers.”

  Hope’s eyes widened. “That’s confidential.”

  Nodding, Tucker said, “I learned that quickly. Dr. Holmes mentioned it was confidential in no uncertain terms and asked why I wanted the information.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I was vague since you work there. This is unchartered territory.” Tucker paused. “I wonder if I need an attorney.”

  “It couldn’t hurt.” Reaching for his hand, Hope said, “My dad, Paul Taylor, is an attorney. He’ll help you.”

  “That’s good. I probably need some legal documents drawn up for the back child support I owe. What a gargantuan mess I’ve caused.”

  “But you’re making it right.” Hope squeezed his hand. “We’ll make it right together.”

  “I can’t believe I found the most beautiful, most understanding woman in the world.” His eyes reddened. “Thank you for being accepting and supportive. This-This is a lot to ask.”

  She nodded. “It is a lot but I love you. Couples are supposed to be supportive. I sort of feel like I’m living in a mystery novel right now. I admit I study every female student at Hilltop—and notice their hair, eyes, and smile. I wonder whether each one is your daughter.”

  “There’s only one, I promi
se.” Tucker took another healthy gulp of wine.

  Hope reached for her cellphone. “I’ll text Dad now and see if he can meet you tomorrow morning. You need to get ahead of this. What if her mother sees there’s a match before you can explain?”

  Steepling his fingers, Tucker said, “You’re right. The lab mentioned something about that.” He stared at Hope’s cell in the middle of the table. As the screen illuminated, they both leaned forward. Hope read Paul’s response: “He’ll meet you tomorrow at 9 o’clock.” She scribbled his address on a napkin. “Here. I’ll go if you want me to.”

  “Let me handle this step by myself, but thanks for being the best fiancée ever.” Tucker blew out his breath. “I’m glad I’m marrying a woman with connections. Thank goodness he can see me so soon.”

  The server approached their table, forehead creased. “Is anything wrong with your food? I noticed you two haven’t taken a bite.”

  “I’m about to correct that right now.” Tucker twirled a big bite of spaghetti onto his fork. “Eat before it gets cold, honey.”

  Hope smiled bigger than she had in days. “No one has ever called me honey.”

  Chapter 64

  Upon entering her favorite boutique, Gigi’s Couture, the jingling bell over the stained-glass door alerted the owner to Victoria’s arrival.

  “Bonjour, Mrs. Van Buren. Good to see you, as always.” Gigi led her to a plush turquoise couch and poured her favorite Bordeaux. “I’m glad you’re here. I have an exciting new shipment in. You’ll love the clothes. I visited the garment district in New York City and—”

  Victoria drained her wine as she stared at the young, gorgeous designer. “Show me. I feel like spending a fortune today.”

  Gigi smiled. “Oui, Mrs. Van Buren. You’re my best customer. You must have a generous husband.” The designer grabbed several articles of clothing and hung them in a dressing room. “You like more wine?”