Tom pulled her close and landed his lips on hers. He took her by surprise and she gasped. Then pulse racing, finished the kiss unrushed. He pulled back first. “Don’t you remember when our favorite thing to do was to spend the evening home alone together?” He winked and started out the door again.
Marianne followed. “Regardless, that’s rude to receive an invitation, then make up a lie about not accepting it.”
“Well, Jeremy’s been out of circulation for a while, Marianne. Maybe he’s not up on social etiquette.”
“That’s not it. This is common sense.”
“Seriously, he was incarcerated for a decade. Wouldn’t you forget about a lot of daily niceties when you were just trying to survive for ten years?”
Marianne took her robe off, hung it over the easy chair near the bed. “Still, it’s just not like Jeremy.” She picked up the phone from the bedside table and slid under the covers. She had just poked at the first number when Tom’s alarmed voice stopped her.
“What are you doing?”
She looked up at him, wide-eyed. “Calling Jeremy.”
“No, no, that’s not a good idea.”
She studied him for a moment. He’d never shown any interest or concern about when she called her brother. Why did he care now? “Why?”
Tom’s smile seemed a little too forced. “Give the guy a break. He’s got a young lady. Give them some privacy.”
Marianne looked back at the phone. “Nah, we’re pretty close, Tom. I caught him in a lie, and I want to find out why.” She stabbed at a few buttons before Tom reached over and swiped the phone away.
“At least do it tomorrow. It’s late. I have plans for the two of us. Plans that just involve you and me. No adorable little five-year-old girl. No brother and whether he lied to you or not. No roomful of guests.”
His voice was low and gravelly in that way that it always got when he wanted some intimacy. Which hadn’t been all that often lately. They were way too busy with the business, with Stella, and of course, recently, with all the strange happenings at the Inn, courtesy of Emma’s father. The last thing she wanted to do was push him off.
She loved her husband and savored their private time together. He slid into the bed beside her and took her into his arms. A few moments into their kiss, her concerns fled and the only thing on her mind was him.
Chapter Seven
The next morning, life got back to normal. Their schedule resumed. No more help running the Inn from Leslie and Hank. Every year throughout February and March, the retired snowbirds checked out and went home after spending a heavenly four, six or eight weeks at the Inn. Today, one room occupied by guests for the last two months was being vacated, and another couple was moving in for a week.
Marianne tapped on the computer keyboard as the lovely white-haired couple handed her their credit card to pay for the last incidentals of their stay. Mrs. Broomstead sighed and patted Marianne’s hand. “We had such a wonderful time. Thank you for your hospitality.”
“We were so happy to have you. We’d love to welcome you back next year. In fact, would you like to put a hold on a room for next year?”
The two looked at each other and chuckled. “We were talking about this last night. We’ve loved it here, but this is our first extended winter stay. We feel like we need to experiment. Sample several areas before we settle on just one.”
Mr. Broomstead tucked the card back into his wallet. “Maybe try the Outer Banks in North Carolina next year. Or venture into Florida.”
Marianne handed him the credit card receipt to sign. “I understand. But we’ll miss you.”
Mrs. B replied, “It’s such a beautiful place, Pawleys. But oh my, you’ve had some scary times this winter, haven’t you? Between the fire, and the kidnapping and getting your sweet little daughter back.”
Marianne looked up at her while her husband finished the transaction. “We’re getting our feet back on the ground. Stella is doing wonderfully.”
The older lady nodded.
“But let me ask you, is that part of the reason you’re not returning next year? You’re worried about the troubles we’ve been having?”
“Oh no, dear, no. Not at all.”
“Although,” Mr. B said, “you’re very lucky that fire didn’t spread and cause major damage. If your place had burned down, or injured, or God forbid, killed any of your guests, you’d be in a heap of trouble, wouldn’t you?”
Marianne felt her shoulders shudder. “Yes, you’re right about that. But God was looking over us all, that’s for sure.”
Marianne called for Tom, who carried the couple’s luggage out to the car. When he returned back inside, she motioned him over. “Tom, the Broomsteads aren’t coming back next year. I think it’s because of the fire and the kidnapping.”
Tom shook his head. “They told me they want to try other places before they settle on going to the same place every year.”
Marianne came out from behind the guest desk. “They told me that too, but I think the real reason is the trouble we had this year. It’s chasing business away.”
Tom took a glance around the room. “We don’t know that. And we don’t want to talk about it in front of the guests. Let’s do a quiet survey of the rest of the folks who check out over the next few weeks. We’ll offer them a discount if they reserve for next year and put a deposit down. If they decline, we’ll politely ask them why. Let’s not jump to any conclusions until we have a little more data.”
Marianne shook out her trembling hands. Tom was so good at this. His plan was logical and made sense. Gathering data was infinitely better than getting irrationally nervous. She squeezed one of his hands, leaned in for a kiss on his cheek.
“I’ll get busy with cleaning the Broomsteads’ room. The new guests will be here this afternoon.”
Several hours later, Marianne was done deep-cleaning the room, and had moved on to working on payroll for the few paid employees of the Inn. She popped her head up and reached for her cell phone. She’d been busy and had never called Jeremy about his absence last night. She sighed when it went to his voicemail, waited for the beep and said, “Jeremy, it’s your sister. I need to talk to you about the party last night. Give me a call when you get this and have a moment to talk.”
* * *
A few days later, it was time for Stella’s second therapist appointment. Marianne attached her daughter’s seat belt and drove over to Stephanie Reynolds’ office. After a short wait, the therapist came to the waiting room to welcome them. “How’s everything going?”
Marianne smiled. “Stella’s doing great. I’m starting to calm down a little bit. I think.”
“Glad to hear it. We’ll talk more about your feelings, and your husband’s, when you come in for your family session. Meanwhile, take one day at a time and acknowledge the positive.”
“Good advice.”
Stephanie invited Stella into her office and closed the door.
Marianne selected a short stack of magazines to keep herself busy. But ten minutes into reading about Angelina and Brad and their huge family, her thoughts wandered to the decline of their returning guests. Although no one had checked out since the Broomsteads, she recalled two snowbird couples who had checked out the week before, and wouldn’t commit to a return visit. Winters were a tough season for an ocean front inn on the coast of South Carolina. Temperatures didn’t stay warm enough for swimming in the ocean, or even for playing golf in the worst winter months, as they did in southern Florida. Although a barefoot walk on the beach bundled up in a sweatshirt and jacket was heavenly to some, other guests wanted to soak in the sun, even in January or February.
As innkeepers, it was their priority to present their guests with such a wonderful stay that they wanted to come back year after year. And they needed to fill at least half, but better yet, two thirds of their guest rooms year-round in order to meet their expenses and stay profitable.
She sat in the silence of the waiting room and her pulse started
to race with worry. She and Tom were totally committed to the Inn as their family income. If it failed, they would be in trouble. Their entire lives would have to change. Tom would have to find a new job. Depending on his income, Marianne would need to find one too, and Stella would have to spend her afternoons in daycare after school. And since the Inn was their home as well, they’d have to sell the place, probably at a loss, and find a new home. And what were the chances they’d find two jobs and a new home in tiny Pawleys Island? They’d have to leave.
But where? Myrtle Beach? Nearby Hilton Head Island? Or, away from the beach altogether.
When Stella finished her appointment with Stephanie and returned to the waiting room, Marianne had worked herself up into such a nervous state that she had to fake a casual “good-bye” to the therapist. Her hands shook, her breath raced, her heart pounded. Sitting in the car, she took a moment to calm herself before starting the engine. It wasn’t safe to drive like this. She closed her eyes until Stella got suspicious with their inactivity and asked, “Mama? What are we doing? What are we waiting for?” Marianne said a silent prayer, Dear Father, please help me, guide me, show me what’s right for me and my family. I turn my worries over to you, Father. Show me what to do and help me to find peace.
She opened her eyes and adjusted her shoulders to get the tension out. She put a smile on her face and turned to look at Stella in the back seat. “Everything’s fine, sweetie. We’ll go home now. How was your appointment with Stephanie?”
As Stella regaled her with stories of what she remembered from her appointment, Marianne drove them both home.
* * *
Tom returned his sand rake to the utility shed behind the Inn, and dumped his trash. One of the features of the Seaside Inn that attracted guests was the clean white sand beach. The expanse connecting the Inn to the ocean, he considered their private real estate, even if the town of Pawleys Island didn’t necessarily agree. And one benefit to guests of a private beach was that it was immaculately manicured. Each morning, he took an early morning beach walk, holding his garbage bag, and he would clean up the sand of remnants of vicious battles between sea animals overnight. Halves of horseshoe crabs, just the crisp skeletal remains, the interior meat scavenged by sea animals of unknown sort. Jellyfish, clear and gelatinous, coated with sand, now lay lifeless, having been washed up onto shore. And seaweed — all size, shape and manner of slimy green seaweed, which, although a member of God’s nature, were unpleasant for swimmers to brush against underwater, making them scream and kick until they realize it’s nothing dangerous.
One by one, each morning, into the plastic bag they’d go. When the whole expanse of beach behind the Inn was cleared of natural rubbish, Tom would rake the sand back to a flat, even surface. He knew the guests appreciated it, but he was doing it for selfish reasons as well. He loved this method of starting his day. For six years now, it was his routine. Oh, so much better than showering, dressing in a suit, and racing to the office, where he’d spend all day on the phone and doing paperwork.
He looked up to the sky with a silent thank you to the Lord for this life he and Marianne and formed.
His work done for the moment, he set off to his right and walked, for exercise, sure, but more for his mind than body. A solitary walk along the water’s edge, the sound of the waves moving continuously in and out, did wonders for working through a problem.
And his biggest problem now was … his family. Marianne and Stella were his world, the most important people in his life. He would do whatever he had to, to keep them safe. What had happened to Stella was unforgiveable. And completely avoidable. He’d never be caught unaware again. In his mind, the solution was clear: Jeremy.
Jeremy was at the center of all the problems they’d experienced over the last few months. Thank God it all turned out okay. But it was his job to make sure he never allowed anything to harm Stella again.
That was an easy fix. Disband from Jeremy. That simple.
Let Jeremy live his own life, away from Tom’s. If he wanted to fall in love with the daughter of the crazy man who kidnapped Stella, that was Jeremy’s business. Tom didn’t care enough to discourage him. But let Jeremy ride his own runaway train. He didn’t need to drag Tom and his family along.
And there lied the problem. Marianne.
Ever since he and Marianne had dated, he knew about her brother who was away at prison. He knew the whole story. He’d even accompanied Marianne to visit him once or twice. They got married and Jeremy wasn’t there. They bought the Inn and Jeremy wasn’t there. They had Stella and Jeremy wasn’t there. Life had gone on without Jeremy, and life was good.
But when Jeremy was released in August, he saw something new in Marianne. A maternal instinct, some kind of over-the-top dedication to her rehabilitated brother that surprised him. Sure, Marianne was always the type to give stray animals a home and invite lonely people over for dinner. It was part of who she was, why he loved her so much. He expected her to welcome Jeremy back home, make him feel part of the family.
What he didn’t expect was the extravagance with which she did it.
She gave him a place to live — a room in their Inn for free until he could get other living arrangements made. She fed him — from their dining room, for free, not only while he lived here, but even after he moved out. She advertised his furniture business in the Inn’s great room. She gave him marketing ideas and created full-color materials for him. She didn’t think twice about encouraging their daughter to idolize her Uncle Jeremy.
And that’s where he and she parted in their thinking.
If she hadn’t pulled Jeremy so deeply into their lives after his return from prison, Stella wouldn’t have been kidnapped. Period.
And therefore, Jeremy will no longer be a part of their lives. Jeremy seemed to accept Tom’s decision as head of the household. He didn’t show up and disrupt Stella’s rescue party. Now, Tom’s challenge was to make Marianne see his way of thinking.
His knees ached with the hike through the sand, and he looked up and took note of his location. He smirked. In his self-absorbed thoughts, he’d hiked at least two miles. His breath came in pants. Better turn around and head home.
Moving at a more leisurely pace now, he planned how he would tell Marianne that for the safety of their family and especially their daughter, her brother was no longer welcome in their Inn. He couldn’t stop him from coming to family occasions outside of their home, but dang it, he was the head of this family. And he had every right to make and enforce his own rules.
Because once upon a time, he wasn’t the one in charge, his dad was. And his dad didn’t set and enforce the rules. And the family went through hell because of it. He was determined not to inherit his father’s weakness. He would run his family the way he felt was right.
God help him.
Chapter Eight
Marianne set out with the grocery list in hand for the next few days. Although they’d hired cooks to prepare all the meals, she did the shopping for the ingredients. She enjoyed the search, and usually spread her purchases over several stores, both on the island and over the bridge on the mainland. She and Tom had a strategy when they’d started, hiring high-quality chefs, and paying them more than they thought they could afford. They wanted the Seaside Inn to be known for their excellent all-inclusive meals, in addition to the best stretch of beach, and of course, the southern hospitality.
But halfway to the first grocery store, she changed her route. Instead, she turned to the north and drove just a few miles to her brother’s new warehouse/storefront. It wasn’t open to the public yet, but would be eventually. Meanwhile, he was busy replacing furniture inventory that had gotten destroyed by Mr. Slotky, and preparing for a Grand Opening.
As she pulled up to the strip mall storefront, she couldn’t help but think that the fire at their storage shed had resulted in one positive thing. Jeremy needed a warehouse of his own if he were going to dream big with his business. When he built custom furniture in his b
ackyard on a tarp thrown on the grass, it was a hobby. When he moved his finished inventory to the storage shed at the Inn, it was a step toward considering it a business. Now, he couldn’t deny it was a business — he’d invested in the monthly rental. God works in mysterious ways sometimes.
She stepped out of the car and walked up to the plate-glass window. She peered in and thought she detected movement towards the back. She went to the door and rapped on it loudly with her knuckles.
After a brief wait, Jeremy opened the door, immediately looking sheepish. “Hey, sis.” He pulled her into a hug, resting his forehead on her shoulder.
“Jeremy, what is up with you?” She cringed when she heard the critical tone in her own voice, knowing that he of course had detected it as well.
He pulled back from her and shrugged. “Want to come in?”
She nodded and followed him in. He locked the door behind them, and she took in the immensity of his new space. “Wow,” she breathed. “You have a ton of room here, don’t you?”
“Sure do. I’m working night and day to fill it. Emma is helping me plan a Grand Opening but I want to make sure I have plenty to display.”
Marianne took a few steps in. When his stock had been stuffed into her storage shed, tables and bookcases were stacked on top of each other to fit into the small space. Here, there was room for everything. Plenty of room to showcase the beautiful oak and cedar and pine creations that Jeremy was becoming known for. Although he’d taken a hit to his stock due to the recent troubles, he’d been busy replacing. At least twenty pieces were scattered around the room.
“You seem to have a lot right now.”
“No, not enough. Many of these I’ve restored from the fire and the water damage, so I’ll price those at a discount. I need to put my best foot forward for the Grand Opening. Impress the heck out of people and give them a reason to come back.”
Pawleys Island Paradise boxset, Books 1 - 3 Page 53