“Oh wait, this sounds like a ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ conversation, which is funny because we’re not even dating. Also funny because I’m usually the one delivering that line.”
He flushed and shot her a short look as if to say, will you stop interrupting so I can finish this difficult conversation? But she was way ahead of him and simply said with a sigh, “I get it. You don’t want her hanging out with someone as ultracool as me—an almost famous celebrity—because you wouldn’t want to set her up with an unreal expectation of what life can be like. I get it. It’s okay.” She patted him on the shoulder. “But honestly, Gabe— Can I call you Gabe? Okay. Good. Here’s the thing. I think we should give kids a high bar to reach for. You know? So they can rise to the occasion. But that’s just me. You do what you feel is right. She’s your kid.”
And with that, she left him, staring with his jaw open slightly and a serious what-the-eff just happened? look on his face. And Lindy tried not to laugh.
Lindy left a lot of people with that very same expression. She suspected one particular director had pegged it precisely: she simply didn’t accept anything she didn’t want to hear and therefore created her own reality.
Now that she thought about it, maybe she had more in common with Pops than she realized.
Huh. Interesting.
But she had to admit Gabe Weston was not hard on the eyes. Not at all, she thought as she grabbed her beach towel and sunscreen.
Too bad she didn’t date guys with kids. That was a deal-breaker in her book.
No matter how hot they were.
No matter how much she kinda liked the kid.
No. Matter. No. How.
Rules were rules, which ordinarily she delighted in breaking, unless they were her own rules, then she stuck to them religiously.
Yep. She was funny like that.
She spied Lilah and waved. “Hey, wanna hit the beach with me?”
“You bet. Gimme a sec.” Lilah grinned with a nod before disappearing to grab her own towel and beach bag.
While she waited for her sister, Lindy’s gaze strayed in the direction of Bungalow 2 for just a minute, then she sighed.
What a tragedy.
Rules sucked.
* * *
GABE WAS FAIRLY certain the hot woman had just bamboozled him.
Worse, he wasn’t sure how it’d happened or how he’d allowed it to happen.
He supposed that was the foundation of a good bamboozle—the element of surprise.
Gabe was still thinking about Lindy when Carys came into view. She looked adorable in her pink bathing suit and for a moment he let his guard down. It didn’t matter how she infuriated him, the love he felt for this kid was beyond comprehension. She’d been their miracle child, part of the reason she was an only child. Charlotte had struggled to get pregnant and they’d gone through several IVF cycles to finally conceive. They used to joke that Carys had been their million-dollar baby because when it was all said and done, the medical bills had been astronomical.
“She better be the next president,” he’d joked a few months after Carys had been born and another wave of bills had come through. Charlotte, her blond hair tucked in a messy knot at the back of her head, simply graced the sleeping baby in her arms with an adoring smile and he forgot all about the dollar amount it’d taken to get their bundle of joy. All that had mattered was the love they all felt for this tiny person who’d come into their lives on a cloud of hopes and dreams. He’d pressed a kiss to her downy head, inhaling the soft sweet scent at her crown. “She’s worth every penny,” he’d admitted to Charlotte. Charlotte’s eyes had watered and she’d lifted her mouth to his, sealing their lips with an
emotion-filled kiss.
“You’re an amazing husband...and an even more amazing father,” she’d murmured. “I love you.”
Gabe closed his eyes, wincing against the hurt that always followed when he thought of Charlotte. It’d been a year since she’d died. Sometimes it felt as though it were yesterday. He shook himself free of the pain wrapping itself like a band around his chest and forced a smile for Carys’s benefit. “Hitting the beach?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Carys answered, for once giving him a straight answer instead of one laced with sarcasm. He took that as a good sign. “Wanna come with me?”
Doubly pleased that she thought to include him without his prompting, he agreed quickly. “Let me just go get my BlackBerry and—”
“No phone,” she returned with a faint scowl. “Can’t you go two minutes without your emails and whatever?”
He hesitated but he could see she was waiting for him to choose her over his work. It was an easy choice if a choice was given but that was the thing...he was the boss. He had to know what was happening at all times. A lot of lives depended on him making all the right decisions for the company. He knew this was a concept an eleven-year-old girl couldn’t possibly understand, but someday he hoped she might and forgive him for being a workaholic. “It’s not that simple, honey,” he said finally, hating the disappointment in her face. “But I tell you what, tonight at dinner...no phone at all. It’ll just be me and you. I promise.”
Carys regarded him with a knowing expression that bordered on distrust and it cut him to the core. Finally, she shrugged and started walking. “Whatever,” she added over her shoulder and he swore under his breath. He should’ve just agreed to leave his phone behind. What was an hour or two incommunicado? But it was too late now and he was expecting an important phone call, besides. He sighed and walked to the bungalow, his heart heavy. Things had to change. But how was he supposed to make it change if he couldn’t even spend the afternoon with his daughter without it devolving into a fight? He didn’t have an answer.
That was the problem. Lately, when it came to Carys, he never had the answer.
He missed his wife—her smile, her easygoing nature, her way of smoothing over the rough spots—but most of all, he missed the way his daughter was when Charlotte was alive.
Just as he’d been unable to prevent Charlotte from dying, he felt incapable of stopping the downward slide in his relationship with Carys. Soon, she’d leave behind the preteens and head straight into the dreaded teenage years and everyone always said those were worse. He groaned softly. He couldn’t even imagine.
He grabbed his phone and saw a missed call from the very person he’d been waiting for. “Damn,” he muttered and quickly checked his voice mail.
This call couldn’t wait. There was a three-hour time difference between here and California, which was where his office was located. With one final glance toward the beach, where he saw Carys setting up her beach gear, he quickly dialed his associate. He’d make it a brief call. Ten minutes tops.
Forty-five minutes later, deep in a tricky contract negotiation, Gabe knew all hope for time at the beach with his daughter had evaporated.
And it made him sick to his stomach. He made a mental promise to make it up to her at dinner.
Somehow his guilt felt like Charlotte’s disapproval. He was a poor substitute for a mother.
CHAPTER SIX
LINDY AND LILAH headed down to the beach, chatting as they went. It felt good to reconnect with her twin; sometimes Lindy forgot how deeply she missed their unspoken connection until they were together again.
“So tell me about life in Hollywood,” Lilah said, smiling. “Your emails are always so short.”
Lindy made a face. “You know I hate writing. If you’d get a cell phone with text capability...”
Lilah grimaced with the same intensity. “That’s all I need. I hate the concept of being at anyone’s beck and call. The idea of a cyber tether makes me squirm.” However, she shrugged as if she might actually consider the idea. “But if it meant I could stay connected with you easier, maybe I’ll think about it some more.”
“That’s progress,” Lindy remarked with a smile and stopped to spread their beach blanket on the soft sand. “So what’s new, Li?” she asked as they both settled on the blanket. “It seems like something’s bothering you.”
“Why would you think that?” Lilah asked.
“Well, Pops mentioned something and I thought if something were bothering you, you might open up to me if you were inclined to open up to anyone.” Lilah nodded but remained silent. Lindy tried again, saying, “Of course, you don’t have to, but I hate the thought of you being in pain over something when I might be able to help.”
Lilah’s sad smile said it all. Lindy’s heart sank a little. She’d been hoping everyone else was just imagining things, but the proof that her hope had been misplaced was currently staring off into the distance, with a bleak light in her eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Lindy asked, concerned.
“It’s hard to describe in a way that you could understand,” Lilah answered.
“Try me.”
Lilah sighed. “Have you ever felt that you just don’t have a place in life? That no matter what you do, you’re still standing on the outside looking in?”
Lindy shook her head. “No.”
“I didn’t think so,” Lilah said with a short cynical smile. “You’re the kind of person who walks into a room and all eyes are drawn to you because you shine with a light that’s hard to ignore. When I walk into a room, no one notices.”
“That’s not true,” Lindy protested. How could Lilah see herself like that? How could Lilah not see that she shone with a different kind of light, one that was soft and gentle and kind? “You have an ability to see the good in people, for smoothing over the rough spots in a person’s personality... I mean, that’s a true gift.”
“Some gift,” Lilah muttered, clearly not impressed. “Hardly useful if you ask me.”
“You’re being too hard on yourself. It’s difficult being sandwiched between Lora and me. We’re both in-your-face type of personalities but that doesn’t mean that you don’t stand out in your own way.”
“It’s not just that, Lindy,” Lilah admitted softly. “It’s that I don’t seem to have anything that I’m good at.” As Lindy started to protest, Lilah held up her hand with a gentle admonishment. “No, wait. Let me finish. It’s all part of that knowing-your-place-in-the-world feeling that I was describing earlier. You’re an actress. Lora is a businesswoman. What am I? The flighty sister who can’t be trusted to handle tough jobs, the one who breaks under pressure. Not exactly the most flattering picture of myself, you know?”
“You’re an amazing artist,” Lindy interjected firmly, not willing to buy into Lilah’s assessment. “Teachers always said you had an uncanny way of knowing how to bring emotional depth to your work, even without much formal training. If that’s not talent, I don’t know what is.”
“What teachers said in high school certainly doesn’t do much good now. I was adequately talented with art. And now that Heath isn’t able to fire the glass for his glass fusion pieces, I’ve been filling in, but I’m just following his template. Any monkey could do what I’m doing.”
“That’s not true. Lora can’t do it. Heath told me that he loved the woman but if she tried to fuse another glass piece it might ruin their relationship.”
At that Lilah smiled. “Okay, you’re right. Lora isn’t any good with artistic mediums but she’s such a sharp businesswoman, she doesn’t need another talent. I’d like to be good at something. Anything.”
Lindy didn’t know what to say. It hurt her heart to hear her twin so candidly admitting how lost she was and it hurt worse knowing that Lindy couldn’t fix Lilah’s feelings about herself. She bit her lip, almost unable to believe the words were going to leave her mouth given her low opinion of therapists, but she knew her sister needed someone to help her through this. “Maybe you ought to see, like, a counselor or something,” she said, wincing at the words. “Or I don’t know...maybe read a self-help book?” she suggested, floundering for ideas.
“I’m fine,” Lilah said, shaking her head. “It’s my problem and not a new one. I’ll get it figured out...eventually.”
They were the right words, but Lindy sensed not even Lilah believed what she was saying and it scared Lindy. What scared her worse was that bleak expression on her sister’s face, the way she seemed resigned to...what? Giving up? Fading away? Lindy didn’t like any of those choices. “Move to L.A. with me when I go back,” she said impulsively, almost desperately.
“You and I both know that’s a terrible idea. I wouldn’t even know how to begin to fit in there. I’d slowly die inside without my island.”
“It kinda looks like that’s what’s happening now,” Lindy risked murmuring, shooting Lilah an uncertain glance. “You’re not happy.”
“What’s happiness?”
Lindy rolled her eyes, mildly irritated. “Don’t go all philosophical on me. You’re deflecting because you don’t want to think about what’s happening.”
“That’s all I do is think about it. I’m tired of thinking about it,” Lilah returned a bit sharply. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap but you’re wrong. It’s not like one day I woke up feeling melancholy and lost. It’s a feeling I’ve had for a long time and it’s just gotten worse.”
“You sound depressed,” Lindy blurted out, panicked by the utterly calm face of her twin as they discussed her situation. Shouldn’t there be tears? Or anger, or something? Lindy had once read that suicide victims often knew weeks in advance of the day they were going to kill themselves and when they did finally do it, they were very peaceful about their decision. Lindy suppressed a shudder of dread as the horrid thought seized her mind. “Don’t walk into the ocean and just disappear!”
Lilah did a double take, with a strange look. “What are you talking about?”
“Well...you’re acting so...like the people who are about to kill themselves and I couldn’t take the thought of you doing that so I figured I ought to throw it out there so you know that I’m not okay with that plan. You know?”
Lilah chuckled and the laughter actually reached her eyes, for which Lindy was inordinately grateful. “I can promise you I’m not interested in killing myself. I’m sorry to have put that idea in your head. I’m just sad, okay? Not suicidal.”
Lindy let out a deep breath. “Oh, thank God,” she said, feeling a weight lift from her chest. “Sad I can handle. Suicidal tendencies I cannot.”
Lilah chuckled and as her gaze traveled farther down the beach, she frowned. “Isn’t that the little girl in Bungalow 2?”
Lindy followed Lilah’s gaze and indeed, saw Carys walking down the beach, her feet splashing in the surf in a sullen manner. Lindy sighed. “Yeah,” she said and stood up. “I better go see what’s going on.”
Lilah nodded and Lindy walked to Carys. “What’s up, kid? You trying to ditch your dad again?”
“No, he was supposed to meet me down here but he hasn’t come yet. I guess he changed his mind.”
Inside, Lindy winced at the forlorn tone couched within the thinly veiled sarcasm. This kid was hurting. Couldn’t Gabe see that? How could he be so blind? She propped her hands on her hips and made a split-second decision. “Come hang out with me and my sister Lilah. She’s cool—you’ll like her. I promise.”
Carys’s gaze lit up hopefully but she held back, unsure. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
“I didn’t say you did. I just thought you might like to hang out with the cool kids, you know? But if you’ve got something better to do...”
“No,” Carys said quickly, smiling. “That sounds fine with me.”
“Great,” Lindy said, returning the smile as they walked back to the blanket where Lilah was sunning herself. Lindy stole a glance at Carys, troubled by the fact that she cared more than she should for this kid. S
he wasn’t the kind of person who adopted people or causes. That was Lilah’s gig. Lindy preferred her relationships easy and superficial. But for some reason, she couldn’t turn a blind eye to Carys’s pain. So how could Carys’s father not see that his daughter was clearly losing the battle against her grief and sadness? Stop it, she ordered herself. Gabe was the kid’s father; he’d figure it out. But what if he didn’t? That same voice she was trying to silence was irritatingly persistent.
And Lindy didn’t know what to do about it.
* * *
CARYS DIDN’T WANT to admit it, but she was grateful Lindy had invited her to hang out with her. Even though Lindy had promised to be available if Carys needed her, Carys was a little shy about actually hitting her up on her promise. But Lindy and her sister Lilah had happily dragged her along as if it weren’t a huge inconvenience to have a kid hanging around and it made Carys feel good inside.
“Lindy said you guys lost your mom when you were young?” Carys prompted, sipping at the coconut-and-pineapple smoothie Celly had created for them as they sat on the Bells’ private terrace.
Lilah and Lindy shared a look and Lilah nodded. “Yeah, and then our Grams died when we were teenagers. But Pops doesn’t remember that, so we try not to remind him.”
Carys frowned. “Huh?”
“Pops is losing his memory and it’s easier on him to think that she’s still here,” Lindy explained, her expression dimming for just a moment. “So if he tries talking about Grams just try to pretend that he’s making sense.”
“That’s weird,” Carys said. “Can’t you take him to the doctor or something?”
Lindy sighed. “I wish it were that easy. You can’t fix dementia.” Then she glanced at Lilah quickly. “You can’t, right?”
Lilah shook her head. “No. The doctor said the damage to his brain is irreversible. All we can do is manage his care, and since all of us agree that we are not going to put him in a home, that means he’s here with us. We just have to do what we can to keep him safe.”
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