I Loved You First

by Suzanne Enoch

  “How handsome?”

  “Well, it depends on where you’re planning to make your life. If you’re planning to live in New York, you will be comfortable through your old age. If you want to stay a little closer, say Espoir Island, you could live like a queen for several lifetimes.”

  Looking at Ned, she smiled and said, “Either option sounds really good, but I think I’m going to go with royalty. I do live in a Queen Anne.”

  “That was terrible,” Jackie told her as Ned’s brows drew together.

  “I’m aware.”

  “I’ll email you the details of the settlement.”

  “Thanks!” Ana grinned at Ned as he stood.

  “Did you just say what I think you said?”

  “I don’t want to go,” she said. “I still don’t love it here. But I really like this house. And I do love you. I’ve always loved you.”

  He took her hands in his, squeezing them gently. “As much as I love hearing that, I don’t want to hold you here. I don’t want you to resent me.”

  She kissed him quickly. “Trust me, I know what resentment feels like, I know where it comes from. It comes not listening, from not caring, from thinking that what you want is more important than what the other person wants, from ignoring them, from making them feel small. The things I had before, I don’t need them anymore. I don’t need those people. And I damn sure don’t need to be on TV.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’m sure of you,” she told him. “What I’m not so sure of is the idea of turning this place into a bed and breakfast. What do you think?”

  “Well, you might consider that Nell is planning to ask you to take over Mrs. Larsson’s position at the museum-slash-genealogical center,” he said. “She was sure you’d stay months ago, after the historical society meeting.”

  She laughed as he kissed her. She’d expected to resent it, the idea that Nell had figured her out before she did. But instead, she found that she was pleased to have options. She was wanted here. Her skills were needed. She had a place. It had been a long time since she’d had a place.

  “We’ll take things slow,” he said. “I will not move into the house or give you any type of jewelry until you’re sure you want to stay.”

  “Knock, knock!” she heard a voice on the porch.

  “Come in!” she called back.

  Dougie Jergenson opened the door, his arms full of Jergenson and Sons Realty signs for her front lawn. “Hey, Ana! I have the listing papers all ready to sign and…”

  Dougie took one look at her face and Ned’s arms wrapped around her waist and said, “Oh, shoot.”

  “I’m so sorry, Dougie,” she said. “I don’t think I’m going to need your services after all?”

  Dougie dropped the signs and threw his arms out. Ned let go long enough to let Dougie envelope her in a hug. “That’s such great news! I can’t wait to tell my Bonnie!”

  “Can we wait a bit before we tell Bonnie?” she asked, making Ned laugh.

  Her phone buzzed again, making Dougie jump. “I’ll let you take your call. Ned, can you help me carry all this back to my car?”

  Ned pressed a kiss to her temple. “Sure.”

  Ana glanced at the screen, gasping when she saw Chloe’s contact photo filling the space. It was all she could do not to burst into tears at the sight of her baby girl’s face, but her hand hesitated over the glass. What should she do? The last time Ana checked Chloe’s Instagram, she was back in New York, working for a stylist and living in a two-bedroom with three other girls. She hadn’t answered Ana’s calls in months. What if this was a butt dial? It would be even more painful to find out Chloe never meant to call her, didn’t want to talk to her.

  But what if Chloe needed her?

  Ana made a frustrated noise and swiped her thumb across the glass. “Chloe? Honey? Is that you? Are you OK?”

  Her voice cracked just the slightest bit on the word, “OK,” and for a moment she panicked. What if the distress in her tone made Chloe hang up? The girls hated it when she “guilted” them. What if—

  “Mom, Mom, it’s me.” Her daughter’s voice filled her ear, warm and strong and making Ana’s eyes fill with tears. “I’m OK. Mom, I’m so sorry I haven’t called. I’m so sorry I haven’t answered your calls, but with Dad—”

  “It’s all right,” Ana promised her. “I know this has been hard on you and Arden. I’m not mad. I’m just glad you called.”

  “Where are you?” Chloe asked.

  “I’m in Michigan.”

  “On Grandma and Grandpa’s island? You said you’d never go back there!”

  “Well, honey, I didn’t have a lot of options.”

  “Ugh, I’m so sorry, Mom. I can’t believe I was slumming around that lame villa in the Caribbean with dad and his bimbo girlfriend while you were forced to go back to some awful hillbilly backwater. I feel like such an idiot.”

  “OK, OK, first of all, you have to have hills to have hillbillies,” Ana responded, grinning when she heard Chloe snicker. “Espoir isn’t so bad, really. I’m sorry I kept you girls away from here for so long. And no, what you did wasn’t great, but I get that this has been confusing and stressful time for you girls, and that you were afraid of losing your dad’s…”

  “You can say ‘money,’ Mom, I won’t be offended.”

  “Love and support?” Ana offered.

  “That’s nicer than I deserve right now. And there’s not going to be much of anything coming our way with Wren in the picture.” Chloe seethed.

  “I don’t know if I want to hear this.”

  “Mom, she’s terrible.” Chloe complained. “Back in the islands, she was already talking about not wanting us around on holidays when they have their kids, and making sure Dad adds protections to his will so their family is provided for. Dad’s so blind to it. He just nods and smiles.”

  A small petty part of her was filled with righteous relief, to hear her daughter’s rage, the contempt for Wren. And she was so tempted to add all of her nasty opinions of Bash and Wren. But instead, she took a deep breath and said, “Well, honey, I think they both know what they’re getting into.”

  “I don’t even care about the money anymore,” Chloe said. “I’ve talked to one of the paralegals in Dad’s lawyer’s office and she said Dad has to provide for Arden until she’s eighteen and that we both have trust funds from Grandpa we can access when we’re twenty-one. Apparently, there’s some sort of provision in Grandpa’s will about college tuition, too. So Arden’s covered.”

  She huffed out a laugh. “You infiltrated Houston’s law firm?”

  “Yes, I did. It could be lean for a few years, but eventually, we’ll have the sort of money to set up the life we’re used to. Besides, maybe we need to learn to live with a little less.”

  Ana smiled as Ned walked back into the house, his expression curious. “Well, I can’t say it’s hurt me.”

  She showed Ned the phone screen and his eyes went wide, giving her a silent thumbs up before kissing her.

  “Are you sure?” Chloe asked. “I hate to think of you out there on some tiny island all alone.”

  Ned mouthed the word “alone?” and clutched at his chest as if he was wounded. Ana laughed. “Oh, you don’t need to worry about me. But how about you and Arden come out and visit me over the summer? There’s some people I’d like you to meet.”

  “Wait, you mean you’re not coming back to New York? You’re staying out there?”

  She slid her arm around Ned’s waist as he tucked her head under his chin. “Yes, I’m staying.”

  THE END

  The Last Chance Motel

  Karen Hawkins

  “Ideas, like ghosts, must be spoken to a little

  before they will explain themselves.”

  —Charles Dickens

  1

  Evan

  Fighting the urge to cuss up a storm, Evan Graham watched as the tow truck pulled his car out of the parking lot of The Last Chance Motel. The late a
fternoon sun glinted off his beautiful Jaguar, steam still slipping out from under the shiny blue hood.

  Evan’s cell phone rang and he glanced at it, ASHLEY C flashing on the screen. Ashley Carr was the new Vice President of Graham Industries. Evan had promoted her just last week after his previous Vice President, Brad King, had been stolen away by a corporate headhunter.

  That loss had been a shock, an ugly one. Although Ashley was sharp and more than capable of doing the job, Brad had been with the company since Day One and Evan missed him.

  His cell rang again, seeming shrill in the empty parking lot. Evan hit answer. “Hello. What’s up?”

  “Uh oh,” Ashley said. “You sound mad.”

  “That’s because I am. My Jaguar broke down.” Evan watched as the tow truck turned a corner and disappeared from sight. “I’m stuck without wheels until tomorrow, and maybe longer if the mechanic can’t get the parts.” Which is just great.

  “Should I send a car?”

  “You can’t. I’m not in Atlanta. I’m in North Carolina.”

  “Ooooh. You went to see Jess.”

  To Evan’s growing irritation, he detected a hint of hope in Ashley’s voice.

  When it came to his wife, it was painfully obvious which side his employees were on, and it wasn’t his. Not that he blamed them. Jess had one of those warm, funny personalities that people instinctively loved. She made people smile just by walking through the door. And by “people” he meant everyone, including him.

  His chest tightened. God, these last two weeks since Jess had left him had been hell. “Look, Ash, I’ve got to go. Did you need something?”

  “The Goodman/Feingold merger contract came in. I thought you’d want to see it, but it can wait.”

  “Send it on.”

  Ash hesitated. “Are you sure? It’s Friday afternoon and you’re there to see Jess. Surely you aren’t going to—”

  “Send it,” Evan said impatiently. “I want to make sure the new provisions were included.”

  “Yes, but I can do that so you can focus on Jess.” At his silence, Ash gave a sharp sigh. “Sending it now.”

  “Thanks. I’ll let you know if I see any problems.” He hung up and then slipped his hand into his suit pocket where a jewelry box and two first class plane tickets rested. He hadn’t come to just see his wife, but to sweep her off her feet. If everything went as he hoped, he and Jess would be back home by this time tomorrow, packing for their coming trip. He’d have plenty of time to look through the contract then.

  He glanced up at the sign that hung over the old one-story motel. Sprawling 1950s font spelled out The Last Chance Motel, half of the neon lights either broken or burned out. The name of the motel made him wince. I hope this isn’t my last chance, not with Jess. I can’t accept that.

  Two weeks ago, he’d been at his desk, neck deep in a conference call when a military-looking man had walked into Evan’s office. “Evan Graham?” The man had held up a large manila envelope with a signature receipt taped to the top.

  Evan, still on the phone about a legal issue involving a new client, had figured the guy was a courier. They saw plenty of them in the office, so Evan didn’t think much of it. He just took the envelope and, without looking at it, scribbled his name on the receipt. The guy took the receipt, nodded his thanks, and went on his way.

  While still listening to the client, Evan had opened the envelope, expecting to see contracts or perhaps a memo detailing some phase of one of their many projects. Instead, what he’d found was a set of divorce papers.

  A few years before, Evan had been in a business meeting in San Francisco when an earthquake hit, the entire building swaying wildly. He’d never forgotten the unsettling feeling of the floor moving under his feet, but seeing those papers had shaken him even more.

  He’d headed home immediately, ready to promise to go to whatever counselor Jess wanted, only to discover that she’d already moved out. Seeing the divorce papers had rattled him; but standing in her empty closet in their silent house had chilled his soul.

  He couldn’t say Jess hadn’t warned him. She’d been asking him to go to a marriage counselor for over a year, and he’d meant to—he really had. But what with the new investors, the mergers he was overseeing, and a million other things, the request had gotten shuttled to a back burner, and he’d eventually forgotten about it.

  To be honest, he didn’t believe they needed a counselor, so much as a little time to reconnect. He loved Jess and always had. And he was certain she felt the same. Or he had been until he’d gotten those papers.

  It hadn’t taken him long to figure out where she was. For the last four months, Jess had been working on an old motel she’d bought, planning to turn it into a boutique sort of B&B. The motel was in Dove Pond, a tiny-almost forgotten town that sat at the foot of Black Mountain about a half hour outside of Asheville. Since he and Jess lived in Atlanta, she’d been spending a week now and then at the motel overseeing the renovations.

  Jess had an affinity with Dove Pond as it was close to where she’d grown up and most of her family still lived nearby. In fact, she used to speak fondly of having family reunions in this very town, at the house of a favorite aunt and uncle.

  Once she’d gotten the renovations moving on the motel, she’d asked Evan to come with her and check out the property, but he’d stupidly laughed it off, saying he was sure she had everything under control. He winced as he remembered the disappointment on her face as he’d shrugged off her request. He hadn’t done it just once either, but multiple times. I’m a fool, that’s all there is to it.

  And now she was gone. Despite dozens of phone calls and bouquets of flowers, none of which had made a difference, he’d been left behind, alone with a manila envelope of papers he didn’t want, and a house he used to love but now found as cold and welcoming as a tomb.

  So here he was, standing in front of Jess’s big project, The Last Chance Motel. It didn’t look like much, this old motel. In fact, if he had to describe it, the words “decrepit” and “ramshackle” came to mind.

  “Woo, boy!” called out a rough, craggy voice. “I about cried, seeing a car like that being towed off.”

  Evan turned to see a grizzled old man sitting on a bench beside the motel office door, his long white hair uncombed. He wore overalls and a faded red T-shirt, his feet encased in a pair of worn work boots. His clothes and the rake that leaned against the wall at his side identified him as hired help.

  Evan realized the old man was waiting for an answer, so he forced a smile. “She’s a terrific car.”

  “A real pity to see a nice car broken down like that.” The man leaned back and stretched his legs in front of him. “What sort of car was that, anyway? I don’t believe I’ve seen one like it.”

  “A 1974 Jaguar E-Type Series III Roadster.” Evan didn’t mention that Jess had given him the car for their fifth wedding anniversary. She’d always given him the most phenomenal gifts. He wished he could say he’d done the same, but after the first four or five years, he’d gotten so busy that he’d fallen into the regretful habit of having his secretary order “something sparkly” from Cartier.

  An all-too-familiar feeling of regret pressed against his chest. No matter the circumstances, even knowing he deserved it, the thought of spending the rest of his life without Jess was painful.

  “Easy there,” the old man said. “Looked more like steam coming out from under the hood than smoke. Reckon all she needs is a radiator hose. That shouldn’t cost much.”

  Cost wasn’t the problem. “I hope it’s a swift fix.”

  The old man nodded in agreement, his bright blue gaze assessing Evan as if taking his measure. “Your car reminded me of one I used to have. I called her Gertrude.”

  Evan eyed the old man with new interest. “You had a Jaguar?”

  “Lord no, but Gertrude was that exact same shade of blue. I loved that car.” The old man, still reclined against the wall as if he had nowhere to go and nothing much to do, laced
his hands over his paunch. “I don’t believe I introduced myself, did I? I’m Doyle Cloyd. Nice to meet you.”

  “Nice to meet you too,” Evan said, trying to swallow his impatience. “You’ll excuse me if I seem distracted, but I’ve got to figure out what I’m going to do now that my car is out of commission.”

  “Left you high and dry, did she?”

  And then some. “The second I drove past the Welcome to Dove Pond sign, something under the hood popped and steam came rolling out. Even worse,” Evan added sourly, “it appears there’s only one mechanic in this town. I hope he knows what he’s doing.”

  “Trav Parker’s as good of a mechanic as his dad Bob was, maybe even better. And old Bob Parker kept Gertrude on the road for years. She was a 1983 Cutlass Supreme and a class act. I think of her every time I see that pond.”

  Evan’s gaze followed the old man’s. A crystal blue pond sat at the end of the long parking lot. Tall maples and oaks clustered to one side, while a deep green expanse of velvet grass led to an inviting dock. The old, one-story motel might be run-down—paint peeling, shutters hanging from broken latches, weeds and daisies poking through cracks in the asphalt parking lot—but the land it sat on was stunningly beautiful. “This is a gorgeous piece of property.”

  “Yes, it is. That pond’s spring fed and clear as glass, too. When my poor Gertrude was fifteen feet under that water, you could still see every rivet.”

  “Your car ended up in this pond?”

  “She went in right there by the dock.” Doyle chuckled ruefully as he stood and picked up the rake. His work boots crunched on loose gravel as he crossed the parking lot and came to stand beside Evan. “My wife Barbara and I had just had a huge fight. She stormed out of the house and got herself a room here. This place was something back then. Always busy.” The old man’s gaze moved back to the motel, and a soft, half smile rested on his craggy face. “These walls have seen it all—love and betrayal, happiness and sadness, new and old. A little bit of everything.”