Tidal Patterns (Golden Shores Book 1)

by Rachelle Paige

  “I’d like to see Mr. Cade.”

  “Do you have an appointment?”

  “No, I don’t. I’d like to hand in my resume to be considered for the Manager of Special Events.”

  The secretary held her gaze for an uncomfortable minute. Being a younger sister, she had never lost a round of the staring game. She had no intention of breaking her record today. At length, the secretary blinked.

  “Leave it there.” She inclined her head to indicate the inbox on the edge of the desk.

  Pulling the resume out of her purse, she scanned it quickly to make sure she hadn’t missed any spelling mistakes. She laid the resume on top of the pile in the tray and smoothed it out. She was eager for a good first impression, no matter how the first impression happened.

  “Thank you,” Lizzie said and smiled.

  The secretary looked at her for a few seconds before turning back to her computer. Confusion, Lizzie thought, had clouded the woman’s face. She’s already forgotten I’m here. Longing to grab her resume off the top of the pile, worried that it would never reach its destination if she didn’t hand it in herself, she walked back towards the door and willed herself to keep a normal pace.

  No, I’m not doing that and I’m not going to make a scene. I’d rather be anonymous than infamous.

  Shutting the door quietly, she stepped back into the hall. Her phone vibrated in her purse, reverberating the entire bag against her chest. Lizzie smiled as she pulled out the phone and saw a bride’s number flash on the screen. She knew her job and she did it well. She’d get this position. What other options were there?

  * * * * *

  Mark wanted to follow after her. He asked her name when they met the other night. He’d been too distracted by her mahogany brown eyes and lithe figure to make the connection. But he knew her, or rather her contracts well especially after analyzing them over the last month for Frank.

  Somehow he didn’t think opening with you could expand your profit margin would get him more than a scowl. Her brown eyes had sparkled when she recognized him, even as her cheeks reddened. He grinned; he liked her blush. He liked that she gave away what she felt so easily. Mark found himself walking away from Frank Cade’s office and back down the stairs.

  In many ways, she was unremarkable, he surmised. She was average height, had brown hair, and the barest hint of a golden tan. But she’d been almost effervescent and she’d glided down the hall, a mix of determination and bravado. He smiled at the memory. He’d like to run into her again, he decided.

  Jogging down the stairs and out the doors, he strolled in the bright sunlight towards the parking lot. He’d taken the day off to help his buddy with a project, but an urgent call from the office had him at his desk working at seven am. Maybe that had been kismet, he decided. If he hadn’t shown up to work out a problem for a couple of hours, he’d never have known that she worked at the resort too.

  Or that she was interested in the job. He exhaled and leapt into his car, turning the engine over, and taking off for home. What did it mean that she wanted the job? His stomach lurched. He couldn’t lose an opportunity or hesitate because some girl that had smiled at him wanted it. But he felt uneasy all the same.

  The phone rang and he reached down for his Bluetooth headset.

  “Hey, where are you? I just dropped off Charlie at preschool and you aren’t here yet?” Phil asked.

  “Yeah, sorry man,” he sighed. He hated letting anyone down, but especially his best friend, Phil. Since meeting in college, they’d become closer than brothers in almost a decade of friendship. “I thought I’d be there by now. I got called into the office, but I’m almost to the causeway. I’m coming straight over.”

  “Okay, take your time. I’ll feed you as payment.”

  “As long as you’re not cooking.”

  He grimaced remembering Phil’s legendary dish, tuna and eggs. If the smell of tuna coming out of a can wasn’t pungent enough, adding it to a frying pan somehow enhanced it.

  “No, no. Trish won’t even let tuna inside of the house.”

  “Smart woman. I knew I always liked your wife. I’ll be over soon.”

  He hung up the phone and took in a deep breath of the salty, sea air. Summer had arrived, or at least the temperatures he’d always associated with summer, growing up in the Midwest. With a few months before the oppressive heat and life-draining humidity of a true Georgia summer set in, he tried to avoid his air conditioner as much as he could. But come August, the tourists went home, local kids went back to school, and those with means left for the mountains, he’d be chained to it.

  Driving through the Pier Village, he parked his car in the small alley behind Phil’s bar. He grabbed an old pair of shorts and a t-shirt from the back of his Jeep, let himself in through the backdoor and climbed the stairs to the landing and door at the top. He knocked three times and Phil opened the door with one hand and extended a mug of coffee with another.

  “Thanks, I needed this,” he replied, throwing his clothes inside the door to grab the mug.

  Anticipating him had always been Phil’s specialty. Somehow, unnervingly so, he knew what Mark wanted or needed before he did himself. Mark drained the mug of coffee like he was downing a shot and handed it back. After the rough start to his day, getting called in as he headed out for a morning walk with Scooter, he hadn’t had a chance to get his morning fix yet.

  “You ready? We have a lot to do in here.”

  “Just let me get changed first.”

  Phil nodded his consent and stepped back to give Mark more room to enter the apartment. He picked up his old clothes off the floor and wandered down the hall to the full bathroom. Locking the door, he pulled off his wool pants and slipped out of his Oxford shirt. When Phil had first told him of his plan, to sell the cozy beach house he owned near Mark’s and give up his law practice to open up a bar, he’d been incredulous. Why did he want to give up everything he had worked so hard for?

  After a couple of years, he’d begun to understand his friend’s choices. Patricia, or Trish, had been working round the clock and so had Phil. Phil admitted to his friend that they barely got to see each other and he didn’t know what their end goal was in their life together. Selling their house gave them the means to buy the bar and the three-bedroom apartment above it. Downsizing meant working for themselves and the ability to spend more time together as a family.

  He opened the door and walked back down to the open living room, kitchen, dining room space. Phil wasted no time, handing him a wallpaper scorer, putty knife, and a spray bottle of vinegar. The stench of vinegar nearly knocked him down.

  “Did you dilute this?”

  Phil shook his head. “Was I supposed to?”

  “Do you have a sense of smell? How are you not wearing a mask?” he asked, covering his nose with his hand.

  At that moment, Trish, Phil’s wife, walked by modeling a white mask, she waved hello, and continued on her way to open every window in the apartment.

  “Oh you two are dramatic. Come on. Trish says the wallpaper has to go, so it has to go.”

  “Show me the way, this is my specialty,” Mark replied.

  Phil led the way through the small hallway to an open doorway off to the right. Charlie’s room had been wallpapered by the previous owners, and the owners before them, and so on and so forth. He had assured Phil he could cut through all the layers of history months ago. But he’d never found time to do it until he took the day off work. Now, as the little boy’s room began to resemble a tenement from his enthusiasm for removing the wallpaper, help became imperative.

  “Okay, I’ll be in here,” he told Phil, turning back to nod his agreement to the task.

  “Great, I’ll leave you to it. I’ve got to get to work downstairs and Trish is off to teach yoga. Call me if you need anything. I’ll be back with lunch and Charlie in a couple of hours.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Phil stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him. Mark turned a
round and got down to work. He covered all of Charlie’s furniture with drop cloths, opened the windows as far as he could, and began using the edge of the putty knife along one very obvious seam to try to pry it up. His investigation led him to discover four different wallpapers. The scorer pierced through the top layer of paper before he sprayed down the section with vinegar and lifting chunks of paper off the wall.

  The monotony and physicality of his actions lulled him into a rhythm. He didn’t know how long he worked and didn’t even hear Phil’s return. He jumped when his buddy clapped a hand on his shoulder from behind.

  “Wow, you’ve gotten a lot done in here,” Phil said as his eyes darted around the room.

  Mark stepped back to survey his work. Along three walls, he’d removed everything down to the plaster. But on the fourth wall, he’d barely been able to cut through the first layer. He found it incredibly frustrating.

  “Yeah, it’s slow work,” Mark replied, sighing as he dragged a hand through his hair. “But I’m getting there.”

  “It’s time to stop for the day, I’m afraid.”

  “Already? What time is it?”

  “Lunchtime. And then Charlie has to take a nap. Trish picked him up from preschool and he’s already at the table.”

  “I hate to leave it looking like this.”

  He hated letting anyone down, especially the people who would never do that to him. Only a few of those existed, he reminded himself.

  “You know where we live. You can come back. Or maybe I’ll surprise you and I’ll get it finished,” Phil teased, chuckling.

  In a long friendship, they’d had plenty of time to learn each others strengths and weaknesses. Phil’s strength was his engaging personality. He could put anyone at ease and welcome them. Mark’s was determination and hard work. He’d never turned his back on a challenge or an opportunity. So why am I dragging my feet on this one?

  “Come on, you’re dripping with sweat and the entire apartment feels like a swamp. I want to get the air conditioning back on,” Phil told him.

  He nodded his agreement and turned to close the two big picture windows and gather his tools. Wandering back down the hall to the bathroom, he soaped his arms up to his elbows. Tiny flecks of wallpaper clung to him but were easily washed away. He changed back into his work clothes and balled up the dirty shorts and shirt. By the time he made it back to the kitchen, Trish and Charlie were already seated at the table.

  “Sit here! Sit here!” Charlie told Mark, waving wildly to the chair closest to his high chair.

  “Okay, I will, thanks for saving me a seat buddy,” he said, giving the little boy a wink.

  Charlie attempted to wink, but succeeded in blinking both eyes rapidly several times.

  “How’s school going?” Mark asked, while Trish got up from the table and filled plates with sandwiches and chips. She put one in front of every man and Charlie’s eyes grew as round as saucers when he saw the salty snack on his plate.

  “Yesss,” Charlie replied.

  Mark chuckled. He’d never been around kids much, but he’d grown fond of his conversations with Charlie. The little boy took everything in life so seriously and earnestly; including snack food.

  “Do you like your teachers?” he asked, trying again with a question he could answer easily. He remembered Charlie only gave one or two word answers.

  “Yessss,” Charlie replied, nodding his head up and down.

  “That’s good. School is a lot of fun,” he agreed.

  “Thanks for coming over to help,” Trish interrupted. “We really appreciate it. I’m at my wits end with fixing up this old place. I don’t think it’ll ever be done. We’ve already been here for two years and it looks like it hasn’t been two months.”

  “You have a lovely home. It takes time and there is always something that needs your time and money.”

  “So, what’s been going on? Why did you have to go in early on your day off?” Phil asked, firing his questions without hesitation.

  He turned to his buddy. He wouldn’t expect anything less from Phil than to immediately get to the point.

  “Things are picking up over there and a new job is opening up.”

  “That sounds exciting,” Trish replied enthusiastically.

  “It’s not that exciting. But it is a promotion and would be a decent raise.”

  “Those are good things. Why don’t you sound so convinced?” Phil asked.

  “I just… I don’t know. I ran into this girl and I just started thinking and…” Mark trailed off.

  The minute the words had left his lips, he regretted them. Mark picked up his sandwich and took a bite, glad to have an excuse but kicking himself for speaking. He felt Trish and Phil’s eyes on him but he remained steadfast in his focus on eating the sandwich.

  “You met a girl? Who? And what does that have to do with a job?” Phil asked.

  “She’s someone I rand into and it turns out she works over at the resort and she’s interested in this job too.”

  “What’s she like?” Trish asked.

  “She’s nice. She’s cute, bubbly.”

  “Do you know her? Have you met her before?” Phil asked.

  I feel like I know her. When I held her the other night, she fit perfectly against me. And again this morning.

  “I’ve seen her around before,” he replied, without going into the details of their recent acquaintance. He cleared his throat. “She’s one of the event planners.”

  “How long have I known you now?” Phil asked.

  Mark groaned. At some point during every meal he’d been invited to at their home, Phil would wax poetic about their history together. It made him smile and squirm at the same time. They had been friends for a long time and their relationship had been one constant in his life.

  “Since the beginning of time,” Mark replied.

  “And he’s out,” Trish interrupted.

  Mark turned to look and sure enough, Charlie’s head slumped onto his chest in the high chair. Mark had been that exhausted before, he knew the feeling. But surely no one had ever made it look so cute.

  “I’m putting the baby to bed now.” She lifted Charlie out of his high chair with the ease of practice. The two year old laid his head against his mother’s shoulder and she turned to kiss him.

  Mark’s breath caught watching the sweetness and effortlessness of the instinct that both mother and child took as their due. She walked over to Phil and he half-rose in his chair to kiss his sleeping son.

  “Sleep tight buddy, you’re not a baby anymore, right? You’re a big boy now,” Phil whispered to the sleeping boy.

  “He’ll always be my baby,” Trish replied. “Good night Uncle Mark.”

  “Good night,” Mark said in a small voice. He’d never wanted kids. He’d never liked kids. But Charlie changed him.

  Phil sat back down in his chair, finished his sandwich, and turned to look at Mark again.

  “Sorry, what were we talking about?” he asked.

  “You were going to try to make me cry,” Mark teased.

  “No, you know I’m not. But we have a lot of history together. We’re almost brothers…” Phil trailed off.

  Mark drank from his glass, the bubbles from the Coke tickling his nose. He usually avoided sugary drinks, but he didn’t care. He needed something to keep him from thinking about his poor little rich boy childhood. Being born to two people so utterly incapable of devoting themselves to anything besides their needs had been disastrous. He’d dropped them from his life the minute he could, when he’d gone off to college.

  “You’ve known me a long time,” Mark agreed.

  Phil nodded. “Okay. Am I allowed to have an opinion about your life then?”

  His hands clenched into two fists. What did Phil mean by that? He tried to steel himself against whatever assault on his choices were coming his way, but it was hard to prepare to defend when he had no idea what was under attack.

  “Sure,” Mark bit out.

  �
��You need to ask this girl out.”

  Mark sniggered and rolled his eyes.

  “No, no. Don’t blow it off,” Phil continued waving his hands at Mark to grab his attention. “I’m serious. You came here and opened up to us about someone.”

  “I wasn’t thinking about the ramifications,” Mark said, running a hand through his hair. He squirmed in his chair. He’d never realized before how uncomfortable the dining chairs were at Phil’s house. He cleared his throat. “I thought we were having a conversation and talking. You asked about my day and I answered.”

  Phil nodded his head. “But you brought her up.”

  Mark sighed and squirmed again. He couldn’t question the logic, he had brought her up in the conversation. Why? To let him know that he was trying to move on, even in a tiny way? To get permission from his friend that it was okay to start being interested in someone else again?

  “Phil, look, I can’t,” Mark muttered.

  “Why?” Phil asked, raising an eyebrow but never breaking eye contact.

  “Because… It’s not the right…. because…” Mark stumbled over the words.

  “You’re ready. Don’t say it’s too soon.”

  “No, I wasn’t going to say that.” Mark shook his head. “I was going to say, because I might end up being her boss.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The new job would make me her boss and Frank wants me to take it on,” Mark said, shrugging.

  “So…what? Is it a lateral move? You don’t seem very excited about it.”

  “No, no. It’s a promotion. The bump up in salary is decent and it’s less hours there, more delegation.”

  “Jump on it. Why are you hesitating?”

  “I just…I feel like if I take this, then I’m going to be a lifer there. And I don’t know that I want to be a lifer.”

  “Huh, really?” Phil sat back in his chair, relaxing for the first time since Charlie had left.

  “Yeah, you seem surprised.”

  “I guess I assumed that was what you wanted. I mean, it’s not like you gave yourself a lot of choices when you dropped out.”