The Inn at Willa Bay: A Willa Bay Novel

by Nicole Ellis

  “Hello?” The man’s voice was thick with sleep, but younger than she’d expected.

  “Hi. May I speak with Shawn Curtin please?” Zoe asked.

  “This is Shawn.” His voice had become clearer, but more guarded.

  “I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m calling about Celia James.” She waited for his response.

  “Who?”

  Well, she hadn’t expected that.

  “Celia James. I’m calling from Willa Bay, Washington. This is Shawn Curtin, right?”

  “Yes, but I don’t know a Celia James.” Zoe heard a rhythmic noise on the other end of the line, as though he were tapping his finger or a pen against something while he tried to think. “Wait. Maybe I do. You’re calling from Washington, right?”

  She nodded, then realized he couldn’t see what she was doing. “Yes. Celia is my neighbor here in Willa Bay. She’s had an accident and is in the hospital. You’re listed as her emergency contact.”

  Shawn exhaled loudly. “What?”

  This was definitely not going to plan, not that she’d had one in mind. “Celia has you listed as her emergency contact.”

  “Why would she do that?” His voice was deep, with just a hint of a southern drawl.

  “I have no idea.” Zoe was starting to wonder if Celia was in the Witness Protection program or something. How was her emergency contact so clueless about who she was? “Look, she’s in the hospital. Last I heard, she was unconscious and may need surgery for her leg. Can you just come up to Willa Bay and talk to the doctors? I can’t make any decisions for her because I’m not family.”

  “Well, neither am I. At least not close family.” He sighed. “There’s not much I can do out here in Charleston.”

  “Like Charleston, South Carolina?” This was getting more confusing by the second. Celia’s emergency contact didn’t know her and lived on the other side of the country. “You aren’t in Washington State?”

  “Nope.” There was the southern twang again.

  “Oh.” She didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t expect him to fly cross-country on a moment’s notice. Now what?

  “Look, I’ll see what I can do. I’m not sure when I can catch the next flight out to Seattle.” He cleared his throat. “It’s late here. How about I call you tomorrow morning, and we can work out a plan? Maybe this Celia woman will be awake by then and can make her own decisions.”

  “Okay.” There wasn’t much more she could do, and he had a point – Celia could wake up at any time. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Her phone beeped to alert her to another call. “I’ve got to go.”

  “Talk to you tomorrow.” The call with Shawn dropped and the other call picked up.

  “Hello, I’m calling from the Skamish County Hospital,” said a woman’s perky voice. “I’m looking for Zoe Tisdale.”

  “I’m Zoe.” She steeled herself for bad news.

  “Ms. Tisdale, I wanted to let you know that we have Mrs. James stabilized, and she’ll be undergoing surgery tomorrow morning at six o’clock.”

  Zoe let out the breath she’d been holding and flopped down on the sofa. “So, she’s awake?”

  The woman sighed. “No ma’am. She’s still unconscious, but her vitals are stable.”

  “Should I come back to the hospital? I just came home to grab a few things and to call her emergency contact.”

  “I’m sorry. She’s in the intensive care unit right now, so she’s not allowed any visitors. You’re welcome to wait in the surgical waiting room tomorrow morning, but I suggest you get some rest now.”

  “I will. Thank you.” The phone clicked and Zoe hung up, staring aimlessly at Celia’s living room. Pebbles jumped up on the couch with her and snuggled close.

  Rest. Like that was even possible. This had been one of the worst days of her life, and tomorrow didn’t promise to be any better. It was going to kill her to see Pearson training with Joan.

  But that didn’t matter right now. She planned to be at the hospital early tomorrow morning in case Celia woke up. At least she’d have a good excuse for not going in to work.

  Zoe put Pebbles on a leash and took him outside for a quick potty break, then located some food for him in the kitchen before she left for home. She changed into pajamas and tried to read the book she was in the middle of, but her ability to concentrate was shot. She eventually gave up and fell into a fitful sleep.

  6

  Shawn

  After Zoe hung up the phone, Shawn sat up and stared at the alarm clock on the floor next to his mattress. A quarter to midnight. When the phone rang, he’d answered immediately, conditioned by years of late-night phone calls from his direct reports while he was a sergeant in the Army. The habit hadn’t died, even after retirement.

  This was one of the oddest calls he’d ever received, though, ranking up there with the one he’d received in the middle of the night from a frantic group of drunk corporals who’d accidentally released a prize bull from its pasture. Who was Celia James, and why did she have him down as her emergency contact?

  He turned on his bedside lamp and glanced at the framed photo of his parents that rested on the top of one of two sets of plastic drawers in the room. His eyes skimmed over the image of his dad and landed on his mother. She’d lost her battle with cancer eight years ago, and he still missed her every day. He knew his dad did too.

  Shawn had only seen Jack and Andrea Curtin argue seriously once in his life, when he was about ten years old. He’d been awoken from a deep sleep by their raised voices and crept out of bed to hide in the hallway, just out of sight. The incident had left an impression on him that he remembered as clearly as if it had happened yesterday.

  “No!” his normally meek mother had shouted. “I don’t want anything to do with Celia. She’s not a part of my life and never will be.”

  “She wants to be a part of your life though. She’s family, Andrea.” His father’s voice was calm, but firm.

  “No. She gave up that right a long time ago.” She’d added something in a quieter voice.

  Shawn had poked his head out to hear better, which caught his father’s attention.

  “Shawn,” his father had said. “Come out here.”

  He’d never forget the tears on his mother’s cheeks as he crept forward and stood awkwardly in the doorway to the living room. She’d looked straight at him, then covered her face and walked out of the room.

  “She’s okay,” his father told him. “Don’t worry, son.”

  “Why is Mom crying?”

  His father had started to say something but then thought better of it. “It’s a family thing. Maybe she’ll tell you when you’re older. For now, let’s get you back to bed.” He led Shawn back to his room and kissed his forehead. “Everything’s okay. Don’t worry.”

  By morning, his mom was fine, making pancakes and eggs for breakfast like nothing had happened. A few weeks later, Shawn asked his dad about Celia, and his dad had brushed him off, saying she was his mom’s aunt, but not to mention her. Out of deference to his mom, he’d never brought the subject up again. Now he wished he had.

  His mom wasn’t around to answer the questions that burned in his mind, but maybe his dad could. He checked the clock again and mentally calculated the time difference. Not too late to call. Jack Curtin still lived in Tacoma, about thirty miles south of Seattle, in a house he’d bought while stationed at the Army post known at that time as Fort Lewis.

  The phone rang a few times and then went to voicemail, his dad’s familiar voice telling him to leave a message. Too late, Shawn recalled his dad mentioning a planned trip to his fishing cabin in the Cascade Mountains. Shawn ended the call without saying anything.

  He set the phone down on the floor and eyed the room’s spartan furnishings. He’d fallen in love with Charleston while stationed nearby, and when he’d retired last year, he’d purchased a run-down house in the historic district to remodel. He’d completed the renovations last week and put the property on the market. It had sold
within a day and was scheduled to close in only a few weeks.

  Shawn had planned to stick around and buy another fixer-upper, but he needed the sales proceeds from the current place first. Until then, he was stuck in limbo, waiting around until he could get started on his next project. Fully awake now, he paced mindlessly through every room in the house, thinking about the mysterious phone call. Who was Celia? Should he fly to Seattle to find out?

  He didn’t have many belongings to pack, and the house was ready for its new owners. He’d identified a few prospects for his next project but hadn’t yet made any offers. There was nothing concrete keeping him in Charleston.

  Shawn’s thoughts cleared as he walked to the granite-topped island he’d installed in the center of the kitchen. He opened his laptop, clicked on the icon for his Internet browser, and navigated to his favorite travel website.

  He would go to Seattle to finally solve the mystery of his long unanswered question. Even if Celia recovered and didn’t need him, he’d be near home and could see his dad. It had been a while, and this would be the perfect time for a visit.

  7

  Cassie

  Cassie crossed the Lodge’s kitchen and removed a trio of cakes from the oven, setting them on a rack to cool. They were perfectly golden on top, although with all the chocolate frosting she planned to use, no one would ever see their perfection. She loved that aspect of cake decorating; what the cakes actually looked like under all the frosting was her little secret. As long as the final product tasted great and exceeded the client’s expectations, nothing else mattered.

  There was always plenty to do when she arrived at the Lodge early in the morning. The restaurant was closed during the first part of the week, but every morning they provided an array of baked goods for breakfast. When that ended an hour ago, she’d immediately switched over to preparations for the next day’s desserts. The cakes were a new recipe she was testing for a wedding at the end of the month and she’d frost them later.

  She eyed the clock on the wall, surprised to see it was already eleven. She had twenty minutes until she needed to leave to pick up Jace at school for his appointment at the Seattle Autism Center. Her stomach churned like she’d just eaten three huge pieces of chocolate cake. Today was the day they’d find out if Jace qualified for an autism diagnosis. While the idea that her son could be autistic was a little scary, it would provide answers – and hopefully some tools to help him cope as he got older and his teachers expected more from him.

  Before leaving, Cassie checked to make sure there were chocolate chip cookies at the front desk, but all that remained on the silver platter were a few crumbs. The cookie recipe was one that she’d tweaked for years before she was satisfied with it, and they were a hit with guests. She grabbed the platter off the tall counter near the front desk and took it back to the kitchen to refill it.

  As she walked back to the kitchen, she stopped to knock on Zoe’s closed office door. There was no answer, and the light was off. It wasn’t like Zoe to not come in to work. Meg had called last night to tell Cassie about Celia’s accident, but she hadn’t heard anything since then.

  Worry gnawed at Cassie as she placed cookies on the platter and brought them back to the front desk. As soon as she was back in the kitchen, she called Zoe. Her friend didn’t answer. She thought about calling Meg to see if she’d heard any news about Celia, but if Cassie didn’t leave immediately, she’d be late picking up Jace.

  He was still packing up his stuff when Cassie arrived at the school. She tried to be patient while waiting for him to finish getting ready and out to the car, but she couldn’t help worrying about the ticking clock. After battling traffic all the way to Seattle, Cassie finally pulled into a parking spot at the Autism Center and looked at Jace in the rearview mirror. “Honey, we’re here.”

  Jace continued playing on his tablet.

  “Hey.” She twisted in her seat to face him. “We’re here. It’s time to go to your appointment.”

  He looked up briefly, then returned to his game.

  “Jace. We have to go.”

  He sighed loudly. “Fine.”

  They got out of the car and checked in for the appointment. Jace immediately settled in with his tablet, but Cassie’s nerves were on fire. I wish Kyle were here. The thought surprised her. Kyle had never taken an active role in parenting, and he’d opposed her desire to have Jace evaluated for autism. Still, it would have been nice to have another adult present.

  “Jace Randolph?” A woman called out from the other side of the waiting room.

  Cassie stood, and pulled Jace to a standing position. “Jace, that’s you.” She led him up to the woman.

  The woman smiled at him. “It’s nice to meet you, Jace. I’m Mary.”

  He gave Mary a wary look but didn’t say anything.

  As they followed Mary back into the depths of the clinic, Mary explained that she was a psychiatric nurse practitioner and would be working with a psychiatrist to evaluate Jace. She asked Cassie a bunch of questions, then spoke individually to Jace.

  The next few hours were a blur until the evaluation was complete, and Cassie once again found herself sitting across a desk from Mary while Jace played with Legos in the corner.

  Mary folded her hands in front of her on the desk. “So, I’ve met with the psychiatrist and we’ve discussed both the behavior you’ve noted in Jace and what we’ve seen today. Based on the criteria we use to diagnose autism in a child, Jace does fall on the autism spectrum.”

  Cassie’s heart stopped. She’d both hoped for and dreaded the diagnosis, but to hear it for real was more emotional than she’d expected. Her eyes blurred, and Mary handed her a tissue.

  “I’m sorry,” Cassie blurted out as she dabbed at her eyes. “It’s just a lot to take in.”

  “There’s no need to apologize,” Mary said.

  Cassie took a few breaths to calm her nerves. “You always hear that you’ll know if your kid has autism when they’re a baby because they won’t make eye contact, or around two years old because they start losing words. Jace never had those issues.”

  Mary gave her a placid smile. She’d probably heard this from parents many times before. “Lack of eye contact and speech regression are two of the signs we look for, but there are other things too.”

  Cassie nodded. “It’s a bit of a shock to discover it at this age.” She quickly added, “I’m not upset about it, just processing.” She looked over at Jace, who didn’t appear to have heard any of the exchange between his mother and the nurse.

  “Of course. I understand.” Mary reached for some brochures and handed them to Cassie. “This is a description of some of the classes we offer for parents.” She gave Cassie a list of resources and told her about some types of therapies that might help Jace. “I’ll be sending you a report of our findings. Do you have any other questions?”

  Cassie stared at her. She had so many questions that she didn’t know what to ask first. It was at times like this that she really wished her parents lived closer – or that Kyle was there with her. She gestured to the brochures. “I think I’ll start with these.”

  “Good idea.” Mary smiled softly at her. “It can be kind of overwhelming at first. If you think of questions later, feel free to give us a call.”

  “I will.” Cassie went to Jace and tapped him on the shoulder. He didn’t react, so she gently tugged at his arm. He protested, but finally gave in.

  “Are we done?” he asked.

  “Yep. We’re done with the clinic.” For today, she thought. There was a long journey ahead of them, and she didn’t know how Kyle would react to Jace’s diagnosis.

  After their day at the clinic, she took Jace for a cheeseburger and a milkshake. As she watched him chow down on his food, she was overcome with love for him. He and Amanda were everything to her, and she’d do anything for them. Nothing would change that. If anything, having the autism diagnosis would help Jace get the assistance he needed to succeed not just in school and, later
, in life.

  Cassie had asked Kyle to come over after the kids were in bed so they could discuss Jace’s appointment. Even after having him out of the house for two years, it felt weird to see him on the front porch, knocking on the door as though he were a stranger.

  She opened the door. “Hi.”

  “Are the kids asleep?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “I think Jace probably is, but Amanda’s still reading. I think we can talk in the kitchen, though, without her hearing.”

  He nodded and followed her into the kitchen.

  “Do you want some coffee?” she asked, gesturing to the coffeemaker. “I just made a fresh pot of decaf.” From years of marriage, she knew Kyle always drank a cup or two of decaf in the evening.

  He smiled at her gratefully. “That would be great. I came straight here after work. I haven’t even been home for dinner.”

  “Ah, tax season. I don’t miss that.” She grinned at him. When she wasn’t irritated with him, she could almost remember what it was like to sit down with him in the evenings and share a pot of coffee after the kids were asleep.

  “Almost done. I can’t wait.” He rolled his eyes. “I swear, every year I tell my clients to get their tax info in to me as soon as they receive it, but they always wait until the last minute.” Cassie handed him a mug. He took a small sip and set it down. “So, Jace’s appointment. How did it go?”

  She set her own coffee on the kitchen table and sat down across from him. “They said he fits the criteria for an autism diagnosis.”

  He looked down into his mug, then back up at her. “Are they sure?”

  “As sure as they can be.” She shrugged. “There’s criteria, but I think a lot of it is their impression of him. There are things that he does and says that are common for kids with autism.”