by Hope Ramsay
Ella kept her head down for most of dinner. She didn’t think letting Mom know that Dylan had begged off the party planning would be a good idea. But Granny outed her.
“So,” her grandmother said after they’d shared some of Granny’s pound cake, “Ella told me that Dylan doesn’t want to help with the engagement party.”
Mom turned in her direction, the frown-of-death riding her brow. This was not a good sign. “What’s this?”
“We talked this afternoon.”
“And he flat-out refused?”
Great. As much as she wanted to tattle on Dylan, she decided it would be a bad idea. Mom was already pretty stressed, so she decided to keep his final words this afternoon to herself. Who wanted to find out that their fiancée’s son was determined to break up the romance? No one.
On the other hand, this was a perfect time to get to the bottom of the living arrangements. “Well, I guess Dylan is kind of busy. But, um, I do have a question. Is Jim going to move into the beach house?”
Mom’s forehead now resembled deep-plowed furrows. “Did Dylan tell you that?”
Ella nodded. “He called me over to his office today. I thought it was to talk about the engagement party, but he had a bunch of things on his mind. He said Jim wanted to move into the beach house.”
“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry he did that,” Mom said.
“Is he…moving in?”
The frown-of-death disappeared, and Mom reached out to take Ella’s hand. “The truth is, Jim and I have talked about where we want to live after the wedding. I love living at Paradise Beach.”
“I know.”
“Would you mind terribly if he did move in?”
Boy, nothing like getting asked an impossible question. She did mind. And she didn’t fully understand why, except that she felt as if Mom was pushing her away. Which wasn’t exactly the truth. Besides, Mom shouldn’t have to give up the home she loved just because she was getting married. That would be grossly unfair.
“I’m okay,” Ella said. “I just wanted to know because Dylan made it sound like you and Jim wanted me to move out.”
“Oh my goodness. No!” Mom seemed pretty upset.
“Well, maybe I misunderstood. Maybe—”
“No. I’m sure you didn’t. Jim’s son can be a pain in the neck. Honey, you are always welcome at Cloud Nine. I know the house is tiny, but no one had any intention of asking you to leave. Jim isn’t going to be moving in right away. I mean, the wedding isn’t until May, and then we’re planning to go to Italy for a month. Who knows, by then maybe you’ll find a job and an apartment.”
“You’re going to Italy? How wonderful,” Granny said, clearly trying to defuse the conversation the way she always did. “You’ve always wanted to go there.”
Mom’s cheeks flushed. “We had this disagreement about it, actually.”
“Oh?” Granny seemed a little worried. Wait, Mom and Jim disagreed about something? That was new. They never even fussed at each other.
“Well, it’s expensive,” Mom said, “and I figured if Jim was going to spend his money on a big trip like that, we should go to Ireland. Jim told me once that Ireland tops his bucket list. But he insisted on taking me to Italy because Italy tops mine.”
“That’s because he loves you and wants to make you happy,” Granny said, a grin on her face.
Mom turned toward Granny. “I made a big mistake, y’all. I didn’t tell Ella about Jim’s plans because I wanted to talk to you about the possibility of Ella moving in with you.” Mom glanced toward Ella. “Not because we don’t want you at Cloud Nine but because there’s more space here, you know. And a guest bath. We were thinking you might feel more comfortable here. And living in town would be more convenient for you since you don’t have a car. But…”
“Oh, poop,” Granny said. “I would have loved to have Ella come stay with me.” Now Granny sounded upset.
Dammit, maybe Ella should have kept her mouth shut about what Dylan had said. She didn’t want Granny or Mom to feel guilty. Both of them deserved happiness.
Granny let go of a big breath. “Ella, sugar, I know it’s not much, but you are welcome to stay here until the house is sold. Who knows. It might take a while.”
Never mind that Granny had just been talking about how the real estate broker was sure the house would sell in a few weeks’ time at most.
“Only if she wants to move,” Mom said, turning toward Ella.
“If I want to? I love this house. I would love to live here. I’d love to live here forever after, if you want to know the truth. But it’s okay, Granny. I understand why you want to downsize.”
“Thanks, sugar. I’m glad you understand.” But Granny looked troubled, despite her words to the contrary.
* * *
On Saturday night, Brenda slid into the booth at Annie’s Kitchen and faced the love of her life. She and Jim had been together for the last three months, and they were still going out for dates on Saturday night. She hoped that never ended.
She had certainly hit the jackpot with him. He was fifty, fit, and handsome as the devil with a slightly-too-long mop of salt-and-pepper hair, a pair of twinkly blue eyes, and a heroic chin.
He made her feel special without doing anything at all. She loved him more than she’d ever loved anyone, but tonight she needed to broach an unpleasant topic.
This was the sort of thing that had always touched off a fight with Keith, her ex-husband, so she was nervous, her heart rocking oddly in her chest. She didn’t want to argue with Jim.
But she couldn’t let the Dylan situation fester, or the problem would only get bigger. And Lord only knew, she didn’t want to give Ella reasons to go back to Cody Callaghan. Brenda was pretty sure the man had gone out of his way to discourage Ella from coming home. All those years that Ella had toured with Cody, her daughter had barely stayed in contact, sending only the occasional postcard from the road.
Now that her child had come home, Brenda would move heaven and earth to keep her here in Magnolia Harbor. But Momma had made things a bit more difficult by deciding to downsize.
This was a disaster, and she didn’t know how to solve it. She took a couple of deep breaths, but her heart continued to run amok inside her rib cage as she met Jim’s twinkly gaze.
“I need to talk to you about something difficult.”
As usual, Jim gave her his undivided attention. Jim was a good listener as she filled him in on her mother’s fateful decision to sell the house in town and move into a one-bedroom condo. “And to make matters worse, Dylan told Ella all about our post-wedding plan for you to come live at the beach. And I feel as if he may have purposefully tried to make Ella feel unwanted.”
“What?” Jim’s casual posture evaporated. Dylan was an emotional hot button for him. But Brenda could hardly expect otherwise. Jim loved his son as fiercely as Brenda loved her daughter.
“Jim, honey, I hate to say it, but right now Dylan is behaving like a spoiled brat. In addition to making Ella feel unwanted, he refused to help her with the engagement party. So our plans to help them get to know each other through planning this party have failed. And now I’m afraid that his behavior might drive her away.”
“We never intended to make Ella feel unwanted.”
“I know, honey. But that didn’t stop Dylan from doing so. I think it’s because she heard about our plans from him instead of from me. Why on earth did you tell him you were planning on moving to Cloud Nine?”
“It seemed like the honest thing to do. I didn’t make a big deal about it. I just—”
“Oh, Jim. Dylan is probably hurt by that too.” She shook her head.
“You think?”
“Yes. Did you tell him you planned to give him the house?”
“Uh, well, maybe not. It was just something said in passing.”
“Okay. It’s coming clear to me. You need to tell him you’re not selling the house out from under him, okay?”
“Fine. But what do we do about Ella? Ma
ybe, since your mother is moving into the condo, we should reconsider. There’s plenty of room at my house. You could move in with me. Dylan can still have his space, and Ella could have Cloud Nine.”
Brenda reached across the table and interlaced her fingers with Jim’s. “Do you think Dylan would be okay with me moving into his mother’s domain?”
“I don’t know. But to be honest, I don’t really care.”
“Well, you should care, Jim. I mean, that house is where he grew up. He doesn’t need me intruding. The situation with Ella is different. We never owned a house in Indiana. I never could quite afford one. We moved around a lot. Cloud Nine isn’t Ella’s childhood home, so you moving in doesn’t feel like such a violation. It’s just a bit cramped is all.”
“I guess so. But you said she feels pushed away.”
Brenda nodded. “I don’t know for certain. But I’m afraid of that. No matter what we do, even moving into your house, isn’t going to make her feel better. And it doesn’t help that Dylan flat-out refused to help her with the party. So she’s going to feel dumped on from every corner.”
“God, what a mess. Maybe we shouldn’t have asked them to work together in the first place.” Jim’s support encouraged Brenda. He wasn’t minimizing her worries. He was actually trying to understand them. This was why she loved him so much.
“Maybe we shouldn’t have. But I was hoping…”
“Me too. It would be so much easier if they were friends.”
She nodded. “Well, I guess we can’t force them to like each other, can we?”
“No.”
“I’m so glad you understand my concerns. I was afraid you’d be angry about this.”
“Angry? At what? You’re raising an important family dynamic that we’ve got to negotiate.”
Brenda shrugged. “Bear with me. I’m new at this thing we’re doing. My ex wasn’t all that sensitive to things like this.”
He squeezed her hand. “We’ll get through this. But…you know we could cut through a lot of drama by running away together.” His earnest gaze warmed her heart. His suggestion not so much.
She let go of his hand and stared across the dining room, filled tonight with locals who were avoiding the crowded tourist spots in town.
“Why can’t my family be happy?” she asked, her eyes suddenly filling.
“Aww, sweetie, it’s not your family. It’s mine. Dylan is the problem.”
She brushed a tear away. “It shouldn’t matter that much, but I want a wedding where I’ve got my family with me. All of us. And I want this party so that Ella and Dylan can get to know each other. I want your son and my daughter to get with the program. Is that selfish?”
“No.”
“What are we going to do?”
“I’m going to talk to Dylan and read him the riot act.”
“No, I don’t think that’s a good plan.” She paused a moment, getting a grip on her emotions. “Maybe it would be best if we eloped.”
“No!” Jim’s chin firmed.
“But—”
“I said no. We’re going to have a wedding. A real one. I want you and Ella to go off to Charleston or Atlanta or wherever to shop for a super-expensive wedding dress. I want flowers and champagne because it’s what you want.”
“I don’t need—”
“Of course you don’t. But you want a wedding, and you should have it. And I’ll be damned if my overprotective son stops that from happening. There is no excuse for him trying to make Ella feel as if we wanted to push her out of the beach house. No excuse at all. And he was raised better than that.”
“Please don’t tell Dylan this is because of something Ella said. Or that I tattled. It will only make matters worse.”
“No, I think the time has come for a father-son conversation.”
“Please don’t be too hard on him or he’ll blame me. Or worse, he’ll blame Ella. And that won’t be good.”
His mouth quirked to one side, and he nodded. “I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen. And don’t worry. He’ll come around eventually. Dylan is a good kid with a big heart. The problem is that I’ve spoiled him, and after his mom died, he nominated himself as my keeper. It was cute when he was little, but not so much now. He needs to stop trying to protect me and get on with living his own life.”
“He’s trying to protect you? From who? Me?”
Jim rolled his bright blue eyes. “I think he’s worried you’ll break my heart.”
“I would never do that.”
“I know you won’t, but Dylan doesn’t.”
Chapter Four
On Monday morning, Dylan rode his motorcycle into the office early. His helmet sat on the corner of his desk while he kicked back, drinking his second cup of coffee and reviewing a stack of lab reports.
“Hey.” Dad peeked around the edge of his office door.
Dylan clamped down on the urge to ask his father where the hell he’d been the last few days. Dad had been MIA most of Saturday, and Dylan had spent his Sunday fly-fishing. Dad had also not come home last night.
“Hey,” he said, trying hard not to sound as annoyed as he felt.
Dad strolled into the office carrying a bunch of files under his arm. “You got a minute?”
“Sure.” Dylan’s stomach roiled. Here it came, the inevitable woodshed talk. Ella had probably told Brenda everything about their meeting last week.
Dad sat down in the side chair, but he didn’t speak for a long moment. Instead, his gaze wandered around the small office, never lighting on anything for long. What the hell? Was Dad nervous?
“Whatever you have to say, just say it.” Dylan’s chest tightened as if someone had put a rope with a slipknot around it.
Dad finally met his gaze. “Is it true that you told Ella that I was moving into Brenda’s beach house?”
“I did, but I assumed she already knew about it.”
Dad’s shoulders sagged. “No, she didn’t know because Brenda wanted to tell her in her own way, and you screwed that up. You made Ella feel terrible. And I won’t have you doing that again. Understand?”
“Why didn’t she tell Ella about your plans? I mean, you told me a couple of weeks ago.”
“And now I regret it because you used the information to make Ella feel bad. And don’t deny it, Dylan. You’ve made your feelings about my relationship with Brenda clear. And I’m here to tell you that I don’t care if you’re happy about my plans to get married.”
“What?” Dammit, Brenda was twisting Dad’s mind around on itself. Of course Dad cared about his feelings. Didn’t he?
“You heard me. I’m getting married to Brenda McMillan, and I’m not going to stand by and let you upset Brenda and her daughter. Frankly, I’m surprised you don’t even realize that you’re driving a wedge between Ella and her mother. For god’s sake, Brenda has waited years for this chance to reconnect with her daughter. You will not screw that up, understand?”
Wow. Dad was furious. He hadn’t seen his father this angry ever. Not even that time in high school when he’d totaled the Explorer. Dad had yelled that night, but mostly because he’d been worried that Dylan had gotten hurt. Luckily, the Ford was built like a brick house and took a beating pretty well.
“Are you listening?” Dad asked into Dylan’s silence.
“I’m listening.”
“Good. I don’t want to be angry or fight with you, but I do expect better of you. Brenda and I are getting married. We’re having a party whether you have anything to do with it or not, although I would expect you to at least show up for it. And Ella is going to be your stepsister, so be nice to her.”
A strange feeling of jealousy bubbled through him. Everyone was so worried about Ella. What about him? He felt pushed out too. Although he damn sure didn’t want to admit that to his dad.
“I’m sorry,” he said, looking down at his desk. He didn’t like his father being so angry with him.
“I’m not the one you need to apologize to,” Dad said.
> Dylan looked up. “You want me to apologize to Ella or Brenda?”
“You have to ask me that, really? Where did I go wrong raising you?” Dad gave him his intense, blue-eyed, I’m-the-dad-and-you-better-get-with-the-program look.
“Okay. I’ll give Ella a call.”
“No. You will take her out for a nice meal, and you will grovel. And I would be most pleased if you would also change your mind and help her with the party, although I’m not insisting on that unless you can show some enthusiasm for the task. Am I clear?”
“Eminently.”
“And you should probably apologize to Brenda too. But a simple phone call is all that’s required.”
“Okay.”
“Thank you. Now, I need to talk to you about something else.”
What now?
Dad placed the folders he’d carried into the office onto the desk. “These are some of my patient files. Most of these folks have been coming here for a long time. I want you to take them over.”
Dylan glanced down at the stack of files. On top was a particularly thick one. He opened the folder and read the name: Virginia Whittle.
“You’re giving me Ginny Whittle?” he asked. Mrs. Whittle was forty-five and in seemingly good health. But that didn’t stop her from coming to visit on a regular basis, complaining of one thing or another. She suffered from somatic symptom disorder, which was a fancy way of saying she was a hypochondriac.
“I know. She can be difficult.”
“Who else?” Dylan flipped through the files. First up was Milo Parker, a sixty-seven-year-old male with type II diabetes and hypertension who was also morbidly obese. Milo was one of those patients who simply would not, or could not, make lifestyle changes.
Then came Coreen Martel, eighty-eight and suffering from heart failure for the last two years. She’d been on the usual meds for the condition, but the structural damage to her heart was too great. She was in end-stage failure, and there wasn’t much more he could do for her. Her heart was wearing out.