Winter at the Beach

by Sheila Roberts

  “It’s true.”

  He’d fallen for her like a boulder off a cliff the first time he saw her. He’d been at a friend’s frat house Halloween party. She’d been wearing a bumblebee costume—funny little antennae bobbing on her head and a yellow leotard with black stripes over black tights that showed off a compact little body with a great butt. Then there’d been that gorgeous hair of hers, long and beautiful, begging him to run his fingers through it. But what had really gotten him was her smile. It had not only lit up her whole face, it had lit up the whole room.

  “I’m thankful for you, too,” she said to him. “He’s been my hero in all this,” she told the others. “Going to all my appointments with me, cleaning the house, cooking.”

  “Dad?” Luke mocked.

  “Trying to cook,” Kat amended.

  “Hey, in case you’ve forgotten, I can heat soup,” Darrell said. “And fry eggs.”

  Jewel grinned. “And make peanut butter sandwiches.”

  “So, you see? I’m well-fed,” said Kat. “I’m also thankful for all of you. But mostly I’m thankful that I’m still here.”

  Her father nodded and downed half his glass of wine in one gulp.

  “Life is precious,” she went on. “Let’s appreciate every moment.”

  “Well put, sis,” said Mitch, and raised his glass “To life.”

  “To life,” everyone echoed.

  “And to pumpkin pie,” added Mitch. “When do we get to eat it?”

  “Right now,” Kat said.

  She braced her hands on the table and started to push up, but Jewel laid a hand on her arm. “We’ve got it, Mom. Stay put.”

  The fact that Kat didn’t argue spoke volumes about how tired she was.

  The other women cleared the table and took orders for pie—pumpkin or wild huckleberry? Whipped cream or not? Coffee?

  Dessert was subdued compared to the earlier laughter during the meal. That was what happened when you were reminded how precious—and short—life was. Normally the family lingered after the meal, but this time, after everyone had cleaned up for Kat, they all left. She didn’t ask anyone to stay.

  Then it was just her, collapsed on the couch, covered with a blanket, and Darrell, seated in the chair next to her.

  “You’re pooped,” he scolded.

  She sighed and shut her eyes. “I am.”

  “I knew we should’ve let Mitch and Maggie host this year.”

  “No, I wanted to.”

  “Well, we’re not hosting Christmas,” he decreed.

  “We’ll see,” she said, and smiled like women did when they were sure they’d get their way.

  But it wasn’t happening. She needed to rest.

  So now he was wondering if it was wise to haul her down to the beach. What if it rained and she caught a cold? Or pneumonia? “Maybe I should cancel that trip to the ocean,” he mused.

  Her eyes popped open. “Don’t you dare! I’m looking forward to it, and I meant what I said. I want to appreciate every moment of my life. I’m looking forward to this, Darrell. Don’t you go cheating me out of it.”

  “Okay,” he said. “Whatever you want.”

  “That’s more like it.” The smile returned, and she shut her eyes again.

  Darrell sighed and shook his head. He had a sneaking suspicion that they’d be hosting Christmas.

  * * *

  Jenna and her family sat at Aunt Edie’s dining room table, playing cards by the light of an oil lamp. After dinner, it had become apparent that the power, which had gone out an hour or so earlier, wasn’t going to come back on immediately, so they’d put the turkey in the fridge and vowed not to open the door again. They’d left out the pie for snacking later and had peanut butter and bread ready for breakfast in the morning. Celeste was proud to point out that she’d saved the day by bringing chocolate—caramel M&M’s, which they were snacking on as they played. Pete had started a fire for them in the woodstove before vanishing to stay warm with a beer at The Drunken Sailor, and it was crackling away and keeping the downstairs toasty.

  “This reminds me of when we were kids,” said Celeste.

  Jenna smiled. “M&M’s and all.”

  “You girls used to love to come down here in the winter,” Mom reminded them.

  “It was Aunt Edie’s woodstove,” Celeste told her. “We didn’t have one. Of course, the main draw was Aunt Edie and Uncle Ralph,” she added. “And the beach and the saltwater taffy.”

  “But there was something so cozy about having a fire going on a cold day,” Jenna said, remembering how warm and comforting the room always felt. Aunt Edie would let them roast marshmallows over it for indoor s’mores.

  “Which is why I made sure my apartment had a gas fireplace,” Celeste said. “I see a fire in a fireplace and I think of two things—our winter holidays here and romantic Christmas movies on Hallmark.”

  Celeste was now enjoying her own romantic scenes in front of that fireplace with the new man in her life. When were they going to meet him?

  “Everyone should have a woodstove,” said Aunt Edie. “They come in handy when the power goes out during a storm.”

  “You don’t have woodstoves or gas fireplaces in the rooms in the Driftwood. What do you do when the power goes out?” Celeste asked.

  There was something Jenna hadn’t considered. What if the power failed when they were at full capacity?

  “Oh, we have a generator for the motel,” Aunt Edie said.

  Good. Jenna vowed to have Seth check it out and make sure it was working before their festival guests arrived. Not that she was expecting to lose power, but then they hadn’t expected to lose power on Thanksgiving, either. You never knew. Best to be prepared.

  “Hey, sis, it’s your turn. Are you gonna play?” Celeste prodded, bringing her back to the moment.

  “Are you going to go out?” Jenna demanded. “You’d better not.”

  But, of course, Celeste did, leaving the rest of them stuck with a ton of points against them. “Did you have to bring her?” Jenna said to Mel, and Celeste chortled.

  By ten o’clock they’d played two more games of cards and Aunt Edie was ready for bed.

  “Will you be warm enough?” Jenna asked her.

  “Oh, yes, I have plenty of blankets and my flannel pajamas. I’ll be fine.”

  Mom, too, decided she’d turn in, and then it was just the sisters, who stayed up late, keeping the woodstove stoked and talking about diets, dreams and plans for the future. Celeste was sure that by the next Thanksgiving she’d have a handsome cop in tow when she came down. She wanted to be happily married and have at least two kids.

  Jenna hoped that things worked out the way her sister wanted, but to her, the fact that Celeste’s man hadn’t taken advantage of the holiday weekend to introduce her to his family spoke volumes.

  Or maybe it said nothing at all. Maybe Jenna’s own experience had made her cynical. She supposed, when it came down to it, most people viewed others’ lives through the lens of their own experiences. She probably needed new lenses.

  “What about you, sis?” Celeste asked. “What do you want the rest of your life to look like?”

  “I want to make the Driftwood Inn a success while Aunt Edie’s still here to see it. I want to be able to get Sabrina through college. I want to see Hawaii before I die.”

  “You’ll make it happen,” Celeste told her. “You’re my inspiration, you know.”

  “Right.” Marry the wrong man and live on a shoestring.

  “No, I mean it. You’ve done such an incredible job of restarting your life. I don’t know if I could do that.”

  “You could if you had to.”

  “I hope I never have to.”

  “Just be careful,” Jenna said.

  “I am, believe me.”

  Jenna doubted it, but a
sister could only say so much. Every woman had to make her own choices. She thought of the choose-your-own-adventure books she used to read as a kid. One choice you picked for the hero would send him one way. A different choice would pull him into a different adventure.

  She hadn’t made the best choice when it came to Damien, but she’d made a good choice when she moved to Moonlight Harbor. At least she thought she had. She supposed only time would tell.

  Chapter Ten

  “You girls.” Doug Owens shook his head.

  Lisa and Karen and their husbands were in Icicle Falls, eating lunch at the Bavarian Alps. (Extra cheese on the pizza. Yeah, Doug, good for your cholesterol.) Their families had all come up to spend Thanksgiving weekend in the little German-style town nestled in the Cascades, and the various offspring and grandchildren were scattered around town, enjoying the snow and doing their Black Friday spending in the many shops.

  The older generation was doing its share of spending also, but had taken a break to eat. And the subject of the sisters’ getaway had come up when Doug observed that with all the money they were spending, they probably didn’t need to go to a Christmas festival. “Especially without us,” he’d added.

  “We girls need a break from you boys,” Lisa retorted.

  “Oh, thanks a lot,” said her husband, Dean.

  “Every time you two go off together, it’s like Lucy and Ethel on the loose,” Doug said, making Karen frown.

  “Be glad it’s not Thelma and Louise,” Lisa told him.

  Doug had a smart answer for that. “If you drove a car off a cliff, it would be because you were lost.”

  Okay, her brother-in-law was beginning to irritate her. Just because they’d gotten a little lost in Canada... Anyway, he wasn’t so perfect. “You want to start comparing each other to old TV shows and movies? Let’s talk Tim the Tool Man, the Doug version.”

  He scowled and Dean guffawed. “She’s got you there, bud,” Dean told him. Doug’s do-it-yourself disasters were legendary.

  “Tim the Tool Man’s projects always turned out in the end,” Doug insisted.

  “More than you can say for yours. How about that revolving shelf you put in my kitchen,” Lisa taunted. “Backward.”

  Karen snickered, but Doug didn’t even crack a smile. “Your husband was part of that project, if you remember.”

  “The Doug and Dean Show,” Karen joked. “Always good for a laugh.”

  “Yeah, but I was just the helper,” Dean said. “He was the supervisor.”

  “Oh, enough already,” Karen said. “We’re going, Doug, so you can stop being an ass.”

  He threw up his pudgy hands. “Hey, it’s a free country. If you two want to go, fine by me. I’m just saying you could have brought us along.”

  “Yeah,” Dean said. “We like going places with you girls.”

  “And we like going places with you, but sometimes we need sister time,” Karen said.

  “Lucy and Ethel,” Doug muttered, then let out a yelp, a sure sign his wife had just kicked him under the table.

  Lisa wished she’d thought to kick him.

  “Seriously,” put in Dean. “We worry about you two.”

  “Honestly,” Lisa said in disgust, “we’re grown women.”

  “And trouble magnets,” Dean said.

  “We’ll be fine,” Karen assured him. “And it’s not like we’re taking a cross-country drive. Moonlight Harbor is only a couple of hours away. What can happen?”

  “Knowing you two? Plenty,” said Doug.

  Maybe Lisa could reach him from where she was sitting. She slid down in her chair and aimed for his corner of the table. Her foot made contact with his shin, and he let out another yelp. He frowned at her, and the sisters exchanged smiles.

  “You two bring out the worst in each other,” he grumbled.

  “Yes, we do,” said Lisa. Then to her sister, “Isn’t it going to be fun?”

  “That it is,” Karen agreed.

  Oh, yeah, this had been a great idea.

  * * *

  The power was on again by the time Damien brought Sabrina back late Saturday afternoon. Jenna had been watching for them and met them in the parking lot to help haul in her daughter’s shopping finds. She was laden with shopping bags full of new clothes and in a happy mood, a sure sign that the visit had gone well.

  What put Jenna in a happy mood was seeing that the Princess Aurora had opted out of making the drive down.

  “Looks like you had fun,” she said to them as Damien handed over Sabrina’s backpack.

  “Oh, yeah,” said Damien, sounding self-satisfied.

  “We had lunch at the Space Needle today,” Sabrina said. “It was so awesome.”

  “And Mom took her shopping yesterday,” said Damien. Jenna’s ex-mother-in-law may have raised a rat, but at least she was good to their daughter.

  “I got the cutest shoes,” Sabrina gushed as Jenna took another bag. “And a sweater and jeans. And a sweatshirt from the Space Needle. And Daddy gave me these earrings,” she added, moving aside the curtain of strawberry blonde hair so Jenna could see the little crystals in her ears.

  “Very nice of Daddy.” So good of him to be generous with the money his ex paid him.

  “Grandma and Aunt Celeste are still here, right?” Sabrina asked as if perhaps they’d changed their minds and run away before she could see them.

  “Yep. Just waiting for you to arrive so we can start the partying.”

  Sabrina beamed. “I’ll tell Tristan.”

  Her father wasn’t exactly happy at the mention of the boy’s name, but she didn’t notice. She stood on tiptoe, kissed him on the cheek and said a cheerful, “Bye, Daddy,” then ran into the house to show off her treasures and summon the boyfriend.

  “You watch him,” Damien ordered Jenna.

  “Don’t worry, I will,” she said and changed the subject. “So, it looks like you two had a good time.”

  “We did. I want her to come for Christmas.”

  In his dreams. “Oh, no. You just had her for Thanksgiving.”

  His brows dipped. “Hey, Christmas is important.”

  “Yes, it is. Which is why she’s staying with me. In case you forgot, I’m the primary caregiver.”

  “I have visitation rights,” he reminded her.

  “Then you can visit.” But she wasn’t going to offer him another free room.

  “My parents want to see her.”

  “They can visit, too.”

  “Come on, Jenna, be reasonable.”

  She was willing to be reasonable, but she wasn’t going to be a doormat. “I tell you what. You can take her the weekend after.” Wait. When was New Year’s? Sabrina would want to party with her friends on New Year’s Eve.

  “Generous of you,” he said snidely. “You seem to forget she has two parents.”

  “I’m glad to see you’re finally remembering,” Jenna shot back.

  He hadn’t been the world’s best parent even when they were together, and he’d been especially absent after Aurora sneaked onto the scene. He hadn’t fought for joint custody, hadn’t made a very good impression when his daughter came to him that past summer. Now he wanted to be Father of the Year?

  “What’s with this sudden desire to be super dad?” she demanded.

  “I love her,” he said simply, “and I want to be in her life, not shoved off in some corner. Jeez, Jenna, I’d think you’d be glad. You were always on my case about not spending enough time with her. I can’t win with you.”

  “You’re going to make this about me? Really?”

  “I’m not the one who moved.”

  “I moved because I could save money living down here. And you know full well why I needed to save money.”

  His cheeks flushed at the reference to his spousal support. “I spent fourt
een years home with Sabrina. Not working.”

  “So you could do your art!” He hadn’t sacrificed to stay home with their daughter while she worked. Sabrina had provided him with a great excuse to avoid getting a job. And, in fact, Jenna had been the main caregiver until Sabrina got old enough for preschool. He’d conveniently forgotten that. So had the judge.

  He scowled. “You’re like a grave robber, Jenna, digging up old bones. Can you just let go of the past?”

  It would’ve been easier to leave the past behind if she wasn’t having to drag along the two-legged ball and chain that was her ex. She wanted to kick him. Or cry. Or do both.

  “Darn it all, Damien. It would be a lot easier to let go of if you hadn’t hurt me so much. And if you weren’t still pouring salt in the wound. I’m sending you money, and you’re getting your parents to buy you a new car and bringing Aurora down here in it. How would you feel if you were in my position?” Her eyes were starting to prickle. She blinked furiously—not her usual nervous tic—this time in an attempt to hold back tears. She was so done crying for this man.

  He softened. “Okay, sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  Damien wasn’t one to apologize. It shocked her into silence.

  “Look, it won’t always be this way. Things are starting to take off for me. Down the road I’ll be able to help more with Sabrina. I’ll make up for...” He stumbled to a stop.

  Hardly surprising, considering how much he had to make up for. Where to begin?

  Let it go, Jenna told herself. Giving in to bitterness was a soul-shrinking waste of energy. And maybe he was trying to change. Do more, be more.

  He heaved a sigh. “All right, forget Christmas. I’ll take her the weekend before.”

  “Okay, but we’ve got our Seaside with Santa festival that weekend and she may want to be here for it.”

  “I doubt it. My parents are talking about Disneyland.”

  Disneyland or Seaside with Santa. Yeah, hard decision there. “She has school that Friday,” Jenna said.

  “That’s why I wanted her for Christmas. We’d have the whole week after.”

  Christmas and the whole week following? After he’d just had her for Thanksgiving? No way. “Why don’t you take her to Disneyland this summer?” There. That was a good compromise. Not one that made Jenna happy but her daughter would be thrilled.