by Shirley Jump
“I guess we’re both cowards then,” he said. “Which is reason number seven-hundred and twenty-two why we’d be idiots to get involved again.”
Eighteen
Daisy bounded out of bed the next morning, more excited to start her day than she could ever remember feeling. Emma was here in town, the loan was in place, the construction was underway, and her life finally felt like it was getting on an even keel.
Well, everything except her relationship with Colt. Her marriage, such as it was. If it really ever was one.
Colt’s question from yesterday came back to her. Once the inn was done, what then? Was she going to put in the months, maybe years, necessary to get it running and profitable again? Or would she run out the door and onto something else? He’d nailed her with his words. She was terrified of staying, of being dependable. A part of her did want to run as far and as fast as she could.
Leaving Emma to deal with the inn, just as Daisy’s mother had left her to deal with a thousand other things when she was growing up? Would it be so bad to stay? To make this cozy beachside town her home?
Even if it meant seeing Colt every day? Or especially if it meant seeing Colt every single day?
She’d taken Aunt Clara up on the invitation to run the inn, and run down here as fast as she could, yet another spontaneous move in a life filled with them, without ever thinking through what that commitment would entail. The Hideaway Inn wasn’t some greasy-spoon diner that could replace her five minutes after she threw down her apron and walked out the door.
Colt was right. She hated that about him, but he was right. She was scared of staying put, of shouldering responsibilities bigger than herself. And most of all, scared of letting down the two people in the world who meant the most to her.
Her cell phone rang. Daisy dove across the bed to unleash it from the charger and answer. “Hello?”
“Daisy? This is Olivia, Greta’s soon-to-be-granddaughter. We met a few days ago, remember?”
Daisy settled against the headboard, shoving a pillow behind her back. “Yes, yes, of course. How are you?”
Olivia laughed. “Much less stressed now that I finally nailed down a wedding location.”
Daisy held her breath, afraid to ask the question.
“That is, if the Hideaway Inn is still available,” Olivia went on. “We’re thinking just thirty or forty people, three Saturdays from now?”
Joy exploded in Daisy’s heart. She’d had no idea until she had that first booking how excited it would make her. “Absolutely! That would be perfect. I talked to the contractor and everything is on track for having the outdoor work done before then. We can handle a wedding by then, no problem.”
“Excellent. One more thing off my list. I know you don’t have catering services yet, and Luke and I just wanted something simple, so we’re going with a buffet from the Shoebox Café, if that works. Finger foods, mostly, things people can eat easily in an outdoor setting.”
Daisy appreciated Olivia thinking of that detail. Daisy hadn’t even considered food or silverware or decorations. Okay, so maybe she wasn’t as prepared to host events as she thought. “We have plenty of tables and linens still,” Daisy said, grateful that she’d checked the inn’s storage building yesterday, “and some nice folding wooden chairs. We can set those up on the sand if you want, or on the patio, if it’s a little breezy.”
“Sounds perfect.” The two of them set a date to meet at the inn and go over final details, then Olivia said good-bye. Daisy held the phone to her chest for a long time after the call ended, a big goofy smile on her face.
Maybe it was the sun in the sky. The birds chirping outside. The ocean breeze blowing through the open windows. But Daisy was filled with hope and optimism, and a thought that maybe, just maybe, she could change everything in her world if she stayed still long enough to try.
It was an odd feeling. One Daisy had never had before. Permanence. Stability. The words hung around her like ill-fitting clothes. She’d married Colt in an unconventional way, vowing to have an unconventional marriage—one where they weren’t beholden to the stereotype of a three-bedroom, two-bath house, and jobs and dental plans.
Look how that had worked out—nothing was more unconventional than eloping with a man, and forgetting to dissolve the marriage. She’d always thought she was happy that way, making rules and plans that didn’t account for anyone but herself. But as soon as she realized that the Hideaway Inn was returning to business, a business that Daisy would need to stay and helm, there came an excitement about the future. An anticipation about what could happen if she stayed put.
She got dressed, ate a quick breakfast of toast and coffee, then headed into the living room to find Earl, already in his recliner, the remote cemented in his hand.
“Okay, Earl, let’s get your exercises done.”
“You’re not Jane Fonda, and I’m not a pretzel.” He flipped out the footrest on his chair and leaned back.
“And you’re not doing your heart one bit of good sitting in that chair again today.” She clapped her hands together. “So come on, let’s get to work.”
He harrumphed and turned on the television.
Daisy parked her fists on her hips and stood between Earl and the television screen. “You’re not going to sit here all day. In fact, we’re leaving the house today.”
“Why? We’ve got food and television here. There’s no reason to go anywhere else.”
She shifted to the left when he tried to peer around her. “Number one, you have a dog now and that dog comes with responsibility. Which means a walk, at least once a day. So first thing today, we’re heading downtown.”
“Downtown? But that’s far—”
“While we’re there, we might even do a little shopping.”
Earl put up a hand. “No, no shopping. Absolutely no—”
“And we’re going out to lunch, too. To have something healthy, at the Shoebox Café, which welcomes dogs, as long as their humans eat outside.”
Earl readied another objection, then a smile eased onto his face and became a chuckle. “All right, all right. But no shopping.”
“If you’re an entertaining companion on our walk, then I won’t have to amuse myself stopping at a shoe sale.” Funny how alike Colt and Earl were. They were both stubborn but personable, strong and smart. She could definitely see the Harper DNA in their words and their actions.
“If it means I’ll get out of shopping, then I’ll talk your ear off, missy.” Earl snapped a leash onto Major, and a few minutes later they headed into a perfect Florida fall day. Temperatures hovered in the low seventies, with a slight breeze off the Gulf. The humidity had eased, and the warmth washed over them with a gentle touch.
It made Daisy think about her conversation with Colt yesterday. How he had moved to the beach partly because he’d rarely been allowed here as a kid. She couldn’t imagine that, living so close to something she loved and never being allowed to be there.
“Tell me a story about Colt,” Daisy said, as they ambled down the palm-shaded streets that led to downtown. Who was the Colt who had existed before she met him that summer? He’d never talked much about his childhood, and she realized it was a missing piece that she wanted to fill. Maybe then it would help her understand the tie and khakis guy he had become. “About when he was a little boy.”
Earl rubbed his chin. “He wasn’t the one who left lots of stories behind, if that makes sense. Colt was the one who never misbehaved, never got in trouble. He followed the rules, got good grades.”
Although he hadn’t been like that when she met him, she could see that side of him in the tidy, efficient doctor he had become. The stickler for rules and order. Something had made him detour from those rules and good grades, though, because the Colt she’d met had ridden a motorcycle and thumbed his nose at his job. “The perfect child, huh?”
“
Well, yeah, but he had a lot of expectations on his shoulders. My son and his wife were hard on Colt. My son had this perfectionist streak in him, and it extended to his kids. Colt did his best to live up to that, but you know, that kind of pressure takes a toll.”
Daisy ducked under a low-hanging branch. “What do you mean?”
“By the time Colt got to the end of junior year, he’d maxed out on all the high level classes at high school, won ’bout every award a kid could win, and was already getting letters from colleges, before he even applied to them. But that summer, he got his license and a job, and got himself some freedom and . . .”
“And met me.”
Earl nodded. “I don’t think I ever said this before, but I think you were the best thing that ever happened to Colt. I was always worried that he was like a grenade, about to go off at the slightest bit of extra pressure. Then he met you and next thing we know, he’s got a motorcycle and an attitude.” Earl chuckled. “A regular teenager, and if you ask me, it was about damned time. It was good for him.”
She kept her gaze on Major, plodding along in front of them. “Even when we ran off to New Orleans?”
“Oh, you mean that elopement?”
She shot him a look of surprise but Earl just grinned.
“Bet you thought I didn’t know about that,” he said. “I know Colt thinks I don’t because he never told anyone. But I suspected as much, when my son told me you two blew out of town the day after you turned eighteen. I thought Colt’s father was going to have a stroke right there in my kitchen, he was so ticked. I suggested Colt ran off to get married—because I would have done the same thing—and my son was having none of that. Even if you called him today and told him you two got hitched, I bet he’d disagree and tell you that you didn’t.”
“He sounds like a difficult man.”
“My son would argue the sky was pink till he was blue in the face, but that’s what made him a great lawyer.” Earl shrugged. “I love him, believe me, but I never did have much in common with him, though Lord knows I tried. My grandsons, now they were my best buddies.”
Earl’s love for his grandsons showed in the soft tones in his voice, the smile on his face. “I bet you spoiled them rotten.”
Earl chuckled as they rounded the corner onto Main Street. “You know it. Mostly, I spoiled them with guy things. Fishing trips, go-kart rides, that kind of thing. Their grandma was the one who made them pancakes and cookies and cupcakes. Drove my health-nut son crazy, but hey, that’s what grandparents are supposed to do.”
“I never really knew my grandparents. I would have loved to have had grandparents like you and your wife.”
Earl reached out and drew Daisy into a one-armed hug. “And I would have loved a granddaughter like you. If things work out with you and Colt, maybe I’ll gain a granddaughter, and some great-grandkids, in the bargain. And if they don’t, I’ll make you my honorary granddaughter anyway.”
Tears rushed to Daisy’s eyes. She swiped them away with her fingers and smiled at Earl. “I’d like that.”
“Good. Means I get more Christmas presents now.” He winked at her, then started walking again.
They scored one of the empty tables outside the Shoebox Café and ordered iced teas. Major lay in the shaded area beneath the table, his tail patting a happy beat against the ground.
Greta, Esther, and Pauline headed toward the diner, chatting as they walked, trailed by an elderly gentleman with white hair. Earl glanced down the street, then away, as if he was trying to pretend he hadn’t seen the three women.
“When I was a boy, we used to avoid that house,” he said, pointing to a gray Victorian-style home on the corner. “Folks said it was haunted. ’Course, it was no such thing, just one of those empty places that needed some TLC, but it gave us boys something to wonder about. Ten years ago, some history buff came in, bought it for a song, and renovated it back to what it used to be. He even got himself some kind of a plaque designating it as an important place or some such thing.”
“What made it so important?”
Earl kept his attention on the house, but his gaze flickered back to the women every few seconds. “Rumor has it, one of the pirates who settled here in Rescue Bay built it with all his plundered gold. I don’t know how true that is, but I do know the house has been here forever. It’s practically an institution.”
“I think it’s romantic.”
Earl scoffed. “I think it’s a maintenance headache waiting for some sucker to buy it.”
That made Daisy laugh. “Oh, I think you need to meet a woman, Earl. Someone to bring out the romantic side of you.”
He flicked a hand at the idea. “I am too old for such foolishness.”
“Oh really? Even with Pauline?” As they approached a nearby table, Greta and the girls sent a wave in Daisy and Earl’s direction. Daisy returned the gesture.
Earl snorted. “What about Pauline?”
“Oh, I’ve heard you mention her a time or two.” Daisy grinned. “And, you’ve been sneaking little glances at her ever since we sat down.”
He jerked his gaze to the table. “She’s in my line of vision. Nothing more.”
As if reading Earl’s mind, Greta and the others came over to the table. Daisy bit back a smile. Luke was right. The folks at Golden Years were as busy as a soap opera. Daisy could only hope she was as spry and engaged when she was in her eighties.
“Good afternoon, ladies,” Daisy said. “Out for lunch?”
“Why yes, we are,” Greta said. “What a coincidence, running into you here.”
“Coincidence? I saw you in Pauline’s giant Caddy five minutes ago. You smacked her in the head and told her to park so you could go to the Shoebox.” Earl shook his head and muttered, “Bunch of stalkers.”
Greta introduced Pauline, Esther, and Harold to Daisy, then invited herself to sit at the table with Earl and Daisy. Earl scowled and crossed his arms over his chest. Pauline and Esther sat at the next table, picked up menus, and began discussing the lunch options.
“Hey, Earl,” Harold said, filling the awkward silence. “Been missing you at cards lately.”
“I’ve been busy.” Earl looked away when he said it.
“I understand that. Retirement can keep you hopping more than employment,” Harold said, sliding into the seat opposite Earl and making himself at home. “Walt’s been asking about you, too, you know.”
Earl scowled. “Walt can ask all he wants. I’m not asking back.”
Harold pshawed at that. “You know, Earl, it’s a free country, last I checked. Which means if you don’t go after what you want, someone else is free to go after it.”
“Unless someone doesn’t want you going after it,” Greta said to Harold. “The first clue should be the no trespassing signs.”
“She’s in love with me,” Harold whispered. “She just doesn’t like to admit it out loud.”
At the next table, Pauline covered a laugh with her menu. Esther took out her knitting and started clack-clacking away.
Greta ignored Harold. Instead, she grabbed Daisy and pulled her to the side. “A little birdie has told me that you booked Olivia’s wedding at the Hideaway Inn.”
“Yep. We’re all set for three weeks from Saturday.”
“Wonderful.” Greta beamed. “I assume that means that you’ll be staying in town, settling down? Maybe setting up house with the mister?”
Daisy glanced around, but no one seemed to have overheard Greta. Letting the town know she was married to Colt didn’t scare Daisy as much as the little thrill that had run through her for a second when Greta asked the question. What was wrong with Daisy? “I’m here to get the inn reopened. We’ll see after that.”
Greta patted Daisy’s hand. “My dear, if you believe in happily ever after, you’re much more likely to find it. I always told my grandson that only those who believe wil
l receive.”
“Sort of like with Santa Claus?” Daisy laughed.
“Well, hopefully, your happily ever after is a little leaner and younger than the ho-ho guy, but yes.” Greta winked.
“Right now, my focus is on the inn. But I appreciate the warm words, Greta.” One of Daisy’s favorite parts about being in Rescue Bay was the way the residents had welcomed her with open arms. It was like the family she’d always wanted. No matter what happened in the future, Daisy knew she would always treasure her days here.
“Speaking of the inn,” Pauline said, setting her menu on the corner of the table, “did you consider advertising at the town festival on Saturday? Most everyone who’s got a business in Rescue Bay will be there, and it’s a great way to get the word out.”
“Why we’re even thinking of having a booth for our crafts,” Esther said. “Imagine a table filled with nothing but quilts and pillows. It would be—”
“Suffocating,” Greta muttered. “We are not sponsoring a craft table, Esther. If we do, someone is going to get seriously injured with a glue gun.”
Esther pursed her lips. “I think it’s a good idea. For those of us who aren’t secret craft haters.”
Daisy bit back a laugh. Earl had told her about Greta’s ongoing attempts to sabotage Esther’s craft binges. “I’ll look into the festival, Pauline, thank you.” It would be a prime opportunity to test the local market for the Hideaway. A festival would require brochures, which would be a reason for Emma to take some pictures, maybe stay a few extra days to help put the brochure together.
Everything was coming together. Earl was doing better, the inn was getting business, and Emma was finally smiling and laughing again.
But as Daisy ran down that mental list, she realized everything was getting better and falling into place—except for her. That internal battle still waged inside her. When all this was over, would she leave and move on, as if she hadn’t been affected by this town, these people, and those late-night conversations? Or stay, and risk heartbreak a third time?