by Susan Hatler
My legs felt weak and I was still in a mesmerized zone when a car swung into the circular drive and began honking wildly. I didn’t know if it was guests arriving or what, but their horn blared like a tsunami warning.
“The Smithfields.” Brian patted the edge of the plastic he’d taped to the window frame, then came over and set his unused supplies on the desk. “Every time they arrive for the weekend, they rattle on about how we should have a doorman out front. I’ll collect their luggage and open the door, because it’s apparently more trouble than they can manage.” He paused as he walked toward the double doors. “You okay?”
“Fine.” I started flipping though paint samples, hoping Brian wouldn’t see how Max had affected me. After all, intense attraction to a gorgeous man did not mean I needed to act on my feelings. Although, it would feel so good. . . .
The phone shrilled on the desk, jolting me out of my spell. I glanced through the glass panels of the double doors and saw Brian greeting an older couple outside their luxury SUV. The phone rang again, so I snatched it off the cradle. “The Inn at Blue Moon Bay. How may I help you?”
“Wendy?” A familiar female voice came through the line.
My face went numb and all of the blood rushed to my head. I hadn’t heard that voice in years, but I knew it all too well.”
“Wendy? Is that really you?” she shrilled.
“Yes, it’s me.” I gulped, swayed on my feet, and my hand shot out to clutch the edge of the desk for support. If I hadn’t been holding onto the counter I seriously would’ve fallen. On the other end of the line was my mother.
****
Never in my life have I regretted answering the phone, until now. I hadn’t talked to my parents in three years, not since Grandma had forced me onto the phone after a holiday dinner. That conversation had been short and curt. Why was my mom calling me now?
Oh wait, she wasn’t calling me. She was calling the inn—probably to give her condolences about my grandma. But that still didn’t change that I was stuck talking to her. A flood of grief rushed in and anger came hard on its heels. I reminded myself I was a grown woman now and she couldn’t hurt me anymore.
So why was it painful just hearing her voice?
I heard Lucky barking outside on the back porch. My gaze darted out in time to see Max walking down toward the beach with a Frisbee in hand. As they went down the steps, his large frame got smaller and smaller, then he disappeared from my sight altogether. I wanted to yell at him to come back.
“Wendy, honey, how are you?” Mom asked.
My brows drew together. Was she serious? Was she freaking calling me honey? I grabbed a dust cloth that someone, probably Brian, had abandoned, just like the woman on the phone had abandoned me. I needed to clean something, and I needed to clean it now.
“Wendy? Are you there?”
“Yes, I’m here. What do you need?” My fingers tightened around the phone, and I dusted with fervor like nobody had ever dusted before. With the cloth gripped tightly in my hand, I rubbed aggressively against the chair rail molding behind the desk.
“It’s so good to hear your voice. How have you been?”
“How have I been?” I smacked the cloth down, which sent a flurry of dust upward into my nose. I sneezed so hard I was sure I had lost part of my brain. In the back of my mind, I could hear my grandma telling me to be polite. “I’m fine, thank you,” I said, instead of hanging up.
“Good. That’s good.” An awkward silence ensued. Then she made a humming sound like she was thinking of something to say. “I know you’re probably busy now that you’re back in town, so I don’t want to keep you. But I was wondering if you’re still dating the man you met on that reality show? The one who’s a Realtor, too?”
Oh, great. She’d watched the show? It figured she’d seen the most humiliating thing I’d ever done in public. Well, except for falling on my booty and crying my eyes out in front of Max. But at least I’d had amazing kisses after that last one.
“No, I’m not dating Chase anymore.” I furiously dusted a tiny shelf filled with seashells of varying shapes and sizes. I flexed my hand, unsure if cleaning was relieving my anxiety or increasing it.
“Oh, that’s too bad. Your grandma and I weren’t sure he was a great match, though. He seemed too focused on work.”
She’d discussed the show with Grandma? I knew they talked on the phone every month or so, but I hadn’t known they discussed me. So not right.
I cleared my throat. “This phone call must be costing you a fortune. I should let you go.”
“No, we have that service that lets you call everywhere for cheap,” she said, emphatically. “Tell me, did you ever sell that one house? The big brick one with the pillars?”
How had she known about that sale? I’d been so excited about that commission and had told Brian and Grandma, of course. One of them had obviously ratted me out. “Yes, it sold.”
I walked toward a large picture, a charming print of a girl running on a beach at sunset, her shadow trailing out behind her. I’d fallen in love with the painting when we’d first arrived at the inn, and I remembered running down the beach looking for my shadow behind me.
Soon after, my parents had moved away.
“I’m sorry, but I have to go now.” I pressed my fingers to my temple. My dark memories were far too close to the surface, and I preferred them buried deep where I didn’t think of them.
“I understand.” Her voice was soft, and tinged with sadness. She paused a moment. “Well, do you know why Brian called? We just got back from camping on the beach under a palm tree. Hawaii’s lovely, the culture is simple, like life should be. Anyway, we had a message from Brian to call right away. He said it was important.”
Oh, no. That meant they didn’t know about Grandma. How could I be the one to tell her? But I couldn’t get Brian, since he was helping guests, and I couldn’t make her wait until he had time to call her back.
I sucked in a breath. “Yes, I know why Brian called you. We have bad news to tell you. The worst.”
“What’s wrong?”
I brought the picture to my forehead, the glass covering cool against my skin. “It’s Grandma. She . . . passed away.”
“Barbara?” Her voice quavered. “Sh-She passed away? She died?”
I closed my eyes, seeking calm in the darkness. “Yes, she’s gone. That’s why I’m here.”
“Oh, no. That’s not possible. I just spoke to her last week before our trip and she was fine. She had bought a new hat. Brown, I think she said. She was going to use it for gardening . . .”
“She didn’t want a service,” I said, making a mental note to look for that hat. She’d loved hats, and that was the last one she ever picked out. I’d keep that hat forever.
“What happened?” Mom asked.
“Heart attack. In the middle of her weekly pinochle game, too.”
Mom sniffled. “Do you know if she was winning? She loved to win.”
I dusted harder. “Can anyone win at pinochle?”
“Of course they can, Wendy. Oh, I hope she was winning. I can’t believe she’s passed on. She had a hard way about her, but I owed her so much. She did me a great big favor—”
“Please don’t. I can’t go through this with you.” I set the picture back down, remembering the day we had arrived at the inn. Mom had looked around with her cheeks all rosy and a smile on her face. She’d said: “This is it! I could stay here forever!”
What a big fat lie. I’d believed her though. Stupid me. Tension rose inside me and I twisted, trying to shake it away. My elbow connected with a vase, which shot to the floor with a sharp crash and shattered. Another casualty. Ugh.
“We need to lean on each other during out time of grief, Wendy. I cared about her like you did. She was a marvelous woman and she . . . I was indebted to her.”
“You were indebted to her because she took care of your kids when you didn’t want to,” I snapped, tension still coiling inside me so tight I thou
ght I might burst.
“Of course we wanted to, Wendy. But you both grew tired of traveling, so we did what we thought was best. I tried to keep in touch with you, and stay close. You’re the one who cut off all communication when you went off to college.”
“Well, you were the first to go. Weren’t you?” I snapped. They had left us two decades ago, and I should be over that by now. Only I wasn’t. Not even close.
“I’m sorry you’re upset. Your father and I found it prudent to allow you a safe and stable home like you wanted. But, please. It’s time to let the resentment go.”
“Let go of the fact that you abandoned me?” I banged the phone against a table a few times. It didn’t make me feel better. “Look, Mom, call back later and talk to Brian. I’m sure he would love to reminisce with you.”
I heard a noise behind me, and whipped around to find Max standing in the doorway, a trapped expression on his face. He pointed to the Frisbee that had flown through the door, and gave me an apologetic look. Had he overheard my conversation? Oh, I hoped not.
Despite my attempt to get her off the phone, my mom kept talking about good times with Grandma. I clutched the phone in nerveless fingers as he walked toward the Frisbee, Lucky in tow. Her tail wagged and she stopped long enough to lean against my knee. I patted her head with the dust cloth, and she sneezed. Yeah, this place needed a good cleaning.
I wanted to hang up on my mom, but in the back of my mind I heard Grandma’s gruff voice saying, “Straighten up and act like you have some manners. Talk to your mother, young lady.”
“You know I’m not at all surprised you went into real estate,” Mom said, then there was silence. “Your grandma always knew the value of land. Maybe you inherited that from her.”
“Maybe.” It actually touched me that I might be like Grandma in that way. But why wouldn’t she leave me the choice to keep the inn or sell it? Or give it to Brian? That’s what I didn’t get.
Max grabbed the Frisbee, then straightened, and gave me another apologetic look. He started to walk out, and as he passed by he gently squeezed my shoulder. Warmth infused my insides, making my burdens feel lighter. I stared after him, astounded. He hadn’t said a word and his small gesture had made me feel better. Incredible.
“I wish I could fly out and be with you both. You know money has never been an easy thing to come by, and it seems that lately there’s been less than usual.”
She was broke, which didn’t surprise me. Before Grandma, we’d hardly had any money growing up. There had been way too many rice or ramen and nothing else nights at our dinner table, but she and Dad had always said life experience would fill us in a way food couldn’t.
I sighed. “That’s too bad. I can’t pay for your flights, because I’m using my savings for renovations on the inn. Otherwise we won’t get a good selling price.”
“You’re selling the inn?” she said, sounding horrified. “Why?”
“Yes, Mom. It’s a long story.”
“Your grandma loved having you both there at the inn.” Mom’s voice went stiff, like she was trying to keep her emotions together. “You two made her life so much richer and fuller. I’ll let your father know the sad news, and see what we can do about getting there.”
I wouldn’t hold my breath. They’d never been there for me before. “Well, good luck finding the money for the airline tickets. I’m sorry to have had to deliver such sad news. I’ll tell Brian you called. Bye.”
“Bye, Wendy. Our hearts are with you.”
What good was her heart when they were a gazillion miles away? Like always, I felt let down. After I hung up, I stared at the phone, my head ringing with exhaustion and stress. Through the open doorway, I saw Max watching me, and wondered if he’d heard more of our conversation. He raised his brows in question.
I shook my head, wanting to be alone. He wore a look of understanding as he nodded, then he threw the Frisbee and Lucky bounded after it. Max gave me a small smile, then went after her. I felt awful, horrible, and for some strange reason all I wanted was for Max to come back so I could tell him everything.
Chapter Five
I dropped the rag I’d been cleaning with, leaned against the desk for support, and brought the heels of my hands to my eyes. Talking with my mom made me feel eight years old again, as if my parents had just abandoned us. All I wanted to do was put that behind me. But all those feelings were dredged up again whenever I heard my mom’s voice, as did being here at the inn.
“You know what all that honking was about?” Brian appeared in the lobby, pushing a luggage cart piled high with matching designer suitcases. “The Smithfields wanted to drop off their bags. Now they’re meeting friends at the golf club. Rough life.”
I stepped in front of his cart, raising both my palms. “Whoa, bro. You just missed a call from Mom. I haven’t talked to her in years, but somehow I had to be the one to tell her about Grandma? What’s not ringing fair about this?” I asked, circling my index finger in the air around my temple.
His forehead wrinkled. “How was I supposed to know you’d answer the phone?”
“You could’ve warned me she was going to call!” I snapped.
He flinched, then ran a hand over his face. “Maybe I should’ve warned you. But you haven’t talked to her in years. What’s the big deal?”
“How can you ask me that?” I snatched a pad of paper and a pen from inside the front desk. “It’s hard enough being here and dealing with Grandma’s death. On top of that, I don’t need to add Mom telling me that she and Dad dumped us in our own best interest.”
“You can’t avoid them forever. One day you’ll have to deal.”
“I’d rather concentrate on things that can be fixed.” I gestured toward the back door with the pen. “If you need me, I’ll be checking the inn’s exterior condition. FYI, you’re on phone duty the rest of the month.” I turned and walked out the door onto the back porch.
As I stepped outside, Lucky bounded up, her reddish-brown ears flopping wildly. She had the Frisbee wedged into her mouth, and tilted her head in a way I couldn’t resist. “Drop it, sweet girl,” I said, and she opened her mouth to release the slobber-coated disk into my fingers. I smiled, got a good grip on the edge with my thumb, and threw it as hard as I could. The Frisbee soared up momentarily, arched sharply, then dove toward the ground at high speed.
Uh, yeah. Frisbee throwing? Not my forte.
Lucky didn’t seem to care about my ineptitude, though. She just dashed after the Frisbee with her tongue hanging out of her open mouth. Where was Max? I glanced around then spotted him bent over the railing, gazing out at the magnificent ocean view. My gaze drifted south and I noted the view of his backside was pretty spectacular as well. I looked for longer than I should have, but was it my fault his snug shorts fit him to perfection? Um, no.
Max straightened, brought his thumb and index finger between his lips, then whistled. Lucky ran over to him, pushing the Frisbee at him. He tossed it effortlessly in the air, and it sailed gracefully across the porch at hip level. Whatever. He’d had more practice. As Max turned, our eyes connected, and he caught me staring at him. Oh, embarrassment. His eyes searched mine. “Hey, beautiful. What are you up to?”
“I’m inspecting the exterior of the building.” I gestured toward the pad in my hand, and smiled. Just being near Max made me feel better, which couldn’t lead to anything good. Sigh. Time to go.
“You looked upset on the phone.” Max caught up with me as I reached the side of the building. “Was the conversation that bad? I mean, you don’t have to talk about it but if you do want to . . .”
“On a scale of one to ten, with ten being the worst, I’d rate it a forty.” I gave him a side-glance, before I stopped at the railing, and stared out at the incoming waves. The wind whipped against my hair, blowing the dark strands against my face. “I haven’t talked to my mom in years, and now she claims that leaving us here with Grandma was my fault. Can you believe that?”
“That’s roug
h.” He blew out a breath, shaking his head. Then he twisted toward me, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
His fingers lingered, skimming along my jawline. I sighed, loving his tender gesture. “Not unless you have connections to the Hawaiian gods, and can make coconuts rain on my parents’ tiki hut.”
He chuckled softly, the sound soothing my frazzled nerves.
I squinted one eye, and peeked up at him with the other. “I’ll bet your parents are nice and normal and you don’t understand any of my problems.”
His fingers pressed together, forming a teepee. “Define normal.”
“The opposite of mine.” I laughed. Lucky joined in, barking wildly. Then she spun in a circle, and howled before running up the path alongside the railing.
“Well, my parents aren’t wanderers like yours. But they have their issues. My parents built their company, The Huntington Group, from the ground up in San Francisco. They invest in real estate, sometimes they buy the land and build, other times they renovate. But instead of stopping to enjoy their success, my parents are ruthless about the next project. My dad is pressuring me to do a specific project with him, but I’m not sure it’s right for me. He’s not pleased with my resistance.”
Huntington? Why did that name sound familiar? I racked my brain, then it hit me, and I snapped my fingers. “You know what’s interesting? I just saw a home reality show, called “Building the Huntington Mansion,” about real estate magnate Maxwell Huntington III . . .”
Wait. . . Maxwell? Max! No, that wasn’t possible. My gaze flicked to his, and I saw the answer in his sky blue eyes. “You’re not . . .?”
“Maxwell Huntington IV? Yes, I am.”
I stared at him, dumbfounded. “Your parents own The Huntington Mansion in San Francisco?”