“What is it?” Mom asked, watching as Lane tucked the phone in her purse.
“Just work,” Lane said, not wanting to explain any of it to her mother, who would most certainly not understand.
She’d text Mrs. Pim back as soon as she got a free moment.
The phone buzzed again.
Lane reached for it, but her mom tugged on her linked arm. “It can wait, Lane.”
A knot tied itself in the center of her stomach. Her mom, with her lackadaisical approach to life, would never understand that some things couldn’t wait. In Harbor Pointe, everything waited.
Her mom had never been an “I like everything in its place” kind of person. She was the type who took life as it came. To that end, Dottie Kelley had always been a mystery to her eldest daughter, who was very much the opposite of her mother.
In Dottie’s world, everyone was happy and fine and good and because of that, she found it nearly impossible to understand Lane’s heartache. Even when Lane was a kid, Dottie simply couldn’t believe that anyone would ever hurt her feelings. Rather than entertaining the thought, even for a moment, she’d give her blanket rationalization: “I’m sure they didn’t mean it, honey.”
Hadn’t they? Lane was certain they had. Surely her own sister had—what else did she think would happen? But then, maybe Lane’s feelings were never a consideration to Lindsay.
Her thoughts were interrupted as they entered the room and she found a group of people standing together in a circle, praying.
Her mother tugged her close and grabbed her hand. “We’ve been praying for your brother round the clock.”
Lane believed it. The intensity of their prayers only made her realize the gravity of Nate’s condition—and it shamed her to think of the selfish sort-of prayer she’d mumbled in the elevator on the way up here.
The mood in the room was something close to somber, which was rare for a family like hers. How serious was her brother’s condition for it to have cast such a dark cloud?
After the prayer ended, Lane didn’t rush to raise her bowed head. Instead, she took a step out of the circle, careful not to draw attention to herself.
Seconds later, she was greeted by a loud welcome from her father, brothers, and extended family. One look at her and they shouted her name like they’d been planning it “on three.” Instantly the too-small waiting room felt overly cramped with the Kelley family and many of Nate’s friends tucked inside like crayons in a box. Somehow she felt like the one that didn’t quite fit in its place.
And just like that, Lane was fourteen again, the wallflower, wishing she could run home and lock herself in her bedroom with a book.
You’re not that girl anymore.
She’d made sure of it. She’d done everything she could to eliminate every trace of the girl she’d been, to transform herself into a businesswoman with an incredible career. She’d gotten out of Harbor Pointe, and she’d made something of herself.
So why did she still feel out of place and anxious?
She hugged her bag closer as if she could hide behind it, but she knew better. Her dad pulled her into one of his famous bear hugs, clapping her on the back with a little too much force.
“My daughter, the big-city girl,” he said with another clap. “I thought I’d never see you again.” He pulled away but kept his hands on her arms, studying her up and down. “Look how fancy you are.”
“And thin,” Mom said. “Isn’t she thin?”
“Too thin,” Dad said.
There’s no such thing. Lane felt the heat rush to her cheeks. She didn’t like them all staring at her. Half of the people she couldn’t place or hadn’t met, and those she did know, she hadn’t seen in so long they also felt like strangers.
She should be better about keeping in touch—and yet she had a new life now. She couldn’t help it if she didn’t fit in here. Surely they weren’t surprised—she never really had.
Her phone buzzed again, and if only to exhale, she pulled it out of her bag and stared at the screen.
Miles is pushing a new angle for the campaign.
She frowned and texted back: To who?
Marshall. He’s working him over pretty good.
Lane sighed. She didn’t even know how to respond, but the news hit her like a sucker punch.
“You going to sit on that thing all day?” Jeremy stood in front of her seeming too grown-up to be her little brother. He had facial hair, for pete’s sake. He looked like an actual man.
“It’s just work.” Lane forced herself to step into his outstretched arms.
A crash from the other side of the room drew everyone’s attention. Lane watched as a little boy ran away from a stack of magazines he had presumably knocked onto the floor.
“Oh, Jett, honey, stop.” Dottie rushed over to the boy.
“That kid’s name is Jett?” Lane asked.
“He’s a handful,” Jer said, his voice low.
“Who does he belong to?”
“Lindsay and Jasper,” Jeremy said. “They don’t believe in discipline, only in logic and reasoning . . .” His voice trailed off and he turned toward her. “I’m sorry, Lane. I wasn’t thinking.”
She held up her hand to silence him. “It’s fine. Even I know there’s no reasoning with a three-year-old.” Lane swallowed the bile that pooled at the back of her throat. “They really should do a better job of watching their kid.”
Jer shrugged. “Probably figure someone will make sure he doesn’t break anything.”
That always was Lindsay’s way—push off her responsibilities on everyone else. She was too much “fun” to be bothered with actual responsibility.
“Where’s Noah?” She looked around, but her oldest brother wasn’t in the waiting room.
“With Nate.” Jer stuffed his hands in his pockets, and for a brief moment a flash of the little boy she’d known returned. “You should go see him.”
Lane looked away.
Their mother had made the rounds like a hostess at a party. She checked on every family member, every friend, asking if anyone needed anything.
No one did.
When she returned to Lane, she wrapped an arm around her. “I can’t believe you’re actually here. Not happy it took something like this to get you back, but you’re home, so I’m not complaining.”
Lane didn’t respond. Her mother’s “not complaining” sounded a lot like complaining.
“Should we reintroduce Lane to everyone?” Mom turned her attention to Jeremy.
“No,” Lane said a little too quickly. “That won’t be necessary.”
“But it’s been so long, Lane,” Mom said.
Lane prayed for something heavy to fall out of the sky and land on top of her. She wasn’t picky—an anvil or a piano or a giant boulder would work just fine.
“I think Lane probably wants to go see Nate, Ma,” Jer said.
Lane gave a quick nod. “I should do that.” Her mouth had gone dry.
“Right,” Mom said. “Let me see where we are in the shift schedule.”
“The what?” Lane asked, not sure she wanted to know.
“He’s had so many visitors, but he can only have two at a time in his room, so we broke it down into shifts.” She said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“I think Lane might need to go to the front of the line,” Jer said. He’d gotten sensible over the years. She was grateful for that.
Mom’s eyes went blank.
“Mom.” Lane couldn’t believe she actually had to think about this.
“No, of course, you’re right.” Mom turned toward the room. “Now, who should we pair you up with?”
“Can I go by myself?” Would she need to take a number to visit her brother in the hospital?
Mom frowned. “You’re disrupting the system here, Lane.”
“Well, it’s a ridiculous system,” Lane said without thinking.
Jer gave her a nudge. She knew her mother was just trying to make sense of everyth
ing that had happened. If creating a system for visitors to follow helped her pass the difficult minutes until Nate woke up, who was she to criticize?
It occurred to Lane that her mother’s usual take-life-as-it-comes attitude was nowhere to be seen right now. In its place, all Lane saw was a need to control something—anything—when everything was so out of her control.
Lane could relate to that. She should be more sympathetic.
“Of course.” Mom walked away and pulled a sheet of paper off the window next to the door. She scribbled something on the sheet, then motioned for Lane to follow her. Lane glanced at Jer, who said nothing more, and she left the waiting room, escaping to the quiet hallway.
This part of the hospital was white. Fluorescent. Cold.
They walked down the hall, the silence reminding her of a library. If Lane did have something to say, she most certainly would’ve whispered it. Speaking out loud seemed like some sort of violation.
“Here we are.” Mom stopped in front of a room with a partially open door. “You’ll have to tell Noah and Em their time’s up.”
“Mom, I’m not sure the hospital adheres to these rules quite as strictly as you think,” Lane said. “You can come in for a minute.”
Mom shook her head. “They have rules for a reason.”
“I understand, but you should be able to stay with your son. No matter who else comes to visit.”
It wasn’t like her mom. At least not what Lane remembered of her mom. The Dottie Kelley she knew had an unending nonchalance. She expected that things would work out. She was the type of woman who “flitted.”
It was these—and many other—qualities that had kept Lane from ever understanding her mother.
Mom pressed her lips together and glanced into the room. The door obstructed their view of everything except a monitor she could only assume was hooked up to her brother’s limp body. Maybe that little machine was responsible for keeping him alive.
Her mother reached out and squeezed Lane’s hand. “I’ll go in next,” she said. And then she walked away.
Lane watched for several seconds as her mom swished back down the hall in her loose skirt and flowing top. She’d aged fairly well, though Lane had to wonder if Nate’s accident might change all that. Already she seemed harried and stressed out, and that could age a person. Just look at every former president of the United States.
When her mom rounded the corner and disappeared, Lane turned back toward the hospital room and pushed open the door.
Noah sat in the chair right beside the bed, his wife, Emily, in the chair next to him. Noah and Emily met one summer when her family chose Harbor Pointe as their vacation destination. They were both heading into their senior year of college, so after one year of long distance, they spent the summer together and had lived here ever since.
Noah owned a water-sports rental business and Emily stayed home with their three kids, who were hopefully better behaved than Lindsay’s son. Nate was the high school basketball coach and math teacher, and though he didn’t have a wife, Lane had a feeling he’d only find one right here in Harbor Pointe.
Funny how this town had a way of sucking people back in.
Lane said a silent prayer of thanks that she’d managed to get out while she could.
Noah stared at her as if he didn’t believe she was really there.
“Hey,” she said.
“Pudge?”
Lane closed her eyes and pressed her lips together at the sound of the nickname, a thousand memories whirling through her mind. He hadn’t meant it to hurt her, but even the smallest nick could reopen old wounds.
“Sorry,” Noah said. “Guess I shouldn’t call you that anymore.”
Maybe you shouldn’t have called me that ever.
“It’s okay.” She’d received the “harmless” nickname as a child, after all. At least, that’s how her mother had described it when Lane asked her to make her brothers stop calling her that.
“Oh, it’s a harmless nickname, Lane,” she’d said. “A term of endearment.”
“Well, I don’t like it,” Lane had said. She was in middle school, and it was humiliating. Especially when her siblings used it in front of the other kids.
Noah had been something of a bully when they were kids—she had to remind herself he wasn’t a kid anymore.
He drew her toward him for a hug and she squeezed his solid bicep. “Good grief, No—are you training for Mr. Universe or something?”
“CrossFit,” he said. “Me and Emily both.”
Lane glanced at Noah’s beautiful wife and shrank at least four inches.
“Hi, Emily.” She marveled at the gorgeous blonde and her ridiculously muscular body.
Lane had lost so much weight, and yet one hour back in Harbor Pointe and she was that fat, awkward teenager all over again. Especially around these two.
After several long seconds, Lane finally forced herself to look at Nate. Her dark-headed, dark-eyed brother lay perfectly still in the hospital bed, tubes covering his face and an IV stuck in his hand. He looked scruffy with his five o’clock shadow, and Lane could only imagine how angry he’d be when he woke up and found himself wearing a hospital gown.
“He looks small,” Lane said, thinking less about his stature and more about his helplessness.
She expected a lump in her throat, tears in her eyes—something that proved she was still a part of the Kelley family—but nothing came. She felt wholly detached from the scene in front of her and she hated herself for it. She loved Nate. She should be terribly upset to see him like this.
When did you become so heartless?
“We can leave you alone. We’ve gone over our time, I’m sure.” Emily turned to Noah. “I’ll be in the hallway.” As she passed by Lane, she gave her arm a soft, reassuring squeeze. Sisterly. “I’m glad you’re home, Lane.”
A spot of emotion lodged itself at the back of Lane’s throat.
So this makes you emotional? Your brother is fighting for his life and you’ve got nothing for him, but one squeeze from your fake sister and you turn to mush?
Noah stood at the end of the bed, staring at Nate. “Told him to get rid of that bike.”
“What happened?”
“Probably Nate being stupid,” Noah said.
“Do we know that? Maybe it wasn’t his fault.” Lane didn’t think they should criticize their comatose brother on the off chance he could hear them.
“It was his fault for getting the motorcycle in the first place.”
She stilled. “I’m sure he didn’t mean for this to happen.” She put a hand on her brother’s arm. “Seriously? You’ve even got muscles in your forearm.”
He raised an eyebrow as he looked down at her. “You can tell?” Noah tightened his arm muscles underneath her hand.
“It’s kind of gross.” Lane scrunched her face purposefully.
Noah laughed. “You should come to the gym with us. It’s in Bay Ridge, but it’s worth the drive. We’re thinking about opening one up here.”
“I don’t think I’m cut out for that kind of gym,” Lane said, thinking about how many hours she’d logged on the elliptical back home.
“I should go,” Noah said. “Mom will probably give you another fifteen minutes before she sends someone else back.”
“What’s up with that?” Lane asked, frowning.
Noah shrugged. “I don’t think she can stand to sit in here. She doesn’t want to see him like this.”
Lane’s eyes fell on her brother—the one in the bed, not the one at her side. “I can’t blame her for that.”
“Also don’t think she’s admitted that this is as serious as it is.” His face fell. “It might be the first time in her life she can’t explain something away. She always had a knack for that.”
Lane didn’t know how to respond.
“You’re sticking around for a few days, right? You have to come see the new store.”
“Yeah.” Lane glanced at Nate. “Looks like I’ll be her
e a few days.”
Noah gave her one more protective hug. “I’ll talk to you in a little while.”
She nodded and watched him exit the room, leaving her horribly alone with a brother she hadn’t seen in too many months and might never get to speak to again.
CHAPTER
6
AFTER ANOTHER SEEMINGLY POINTLESS TEST, Dr. Tambor came back to Ryan’s room, apparently in the mood for small talk.
“Drove by Cedar Grove the other day,” he said, eyeing the screen with Ryan’s results on it. “It’s looking good, son.”
“Thanks. Been a work in progress.”
“When will you open?”
“A little over a month.”
“Tight deadline.” The doctor took off his glasses and closed the folder.
“You’re not kidding,” Ryan said, trying not to think of how tight.
Cedar Grove was the most important thing he’d ever done, and he had people counting on him to make a go of it. He had three investors, including Frank Kelley. Local businessmen who liked Ryan’s plan to do his part in reinvigorating tourism in their town. Their idea was to figure out a way to open up Harbor Pointe to a whole new generation. The newspaper had done an article on Cedar Grove, pitching the idea to the entire town. They were behind him. And they were counting on him.
He couldn’t let them down.
Then, and perhaps even more important, there were the guests he’d invited for his very first week. People he cared about. He didn’t know what he’d expected when he’d sent out the invitations for a complimentary full week in a cottage on Lake Michigan, but he’d ended up with eleven booked cottages. And it couldn’t just be any week away—it had to be exactly what he’d promised: an escape. A respite from difficult, sometimes-painful lives that deserved peace and relaxation.
He’d promised so much to so many people. He had to deliver.
“Getting close?”
The doctor sure had a lot of questions. Ryan reminded himself that he was a business owner now—everyone was a potential customer. After all, Dr. Tambor probably had family and they might need a place to rent for a week or two this summer.
“We’re getting there. Just working on remodeling the last cottage.”
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