Seaside Gifts: a Seaside romance (Hometown Romance)

by Gayle Roper

  Gradually, the ladies' room emptied, and she was the only one left. She sighed. That meant the dinner was being served, and she was making a spectacle of herself by hiding.

  A thought hit her. She had the power to ruin Aunt Bunny's big night. Well, maybe not ruin it—that might be overstating—but certainly to taint it. She could be frosty in her conversation, withdrawn in her demeanor, critical in her comments.

  In short, she could be Alana.

  She sat up straight. Never!

  So Aunt Bunny had purposely misled her. To balance that fact, she knew Aunt Bunny liked her. And she liked Aunt Bunny. She didn't think the little old lady who lived next to the Buc was a phony, a character created just to mislead Nan. According to Blossom, that person was who Aunt Bunny was, at least partly. She was also a rich, elegant woman.

  Nan stood and exited the stall. Enough behaving like a junior high girl. Chin up. Shoulders back.

  She walked to the sink and washed her hands while she wondered what Aunt Bunny's off-season house was like. A mansion? Or just a big house with lots of land and people to tend it for her? How many bedrooms? Certainly more and bigger than the little apartment. Had some ritzy interior designer made it a museum of good taste, or did Aunt Bunny's carny side intrude?

  Nan froze as she reached for a towel. Could it be? No. It couldn't. No, no, no!

  Yes. Everything pointed to what had to be true.

  Aunt Bunny was responsible for the leavery.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Nan's stomach cramped and her chest hurt. In slow motion, she dried her hands, then wrapped her arms about herself to hold in the pain.

  Why? When Aunt Bunny knew how much it upset her, why had she continued?

  The bathroom door opened, and Nan struggled to hide the hurt she knew had to show on her face. She didn't want some stranger worrying over her.

  "We need to talk."

  Nan knew that voice. She spun to face Aunt Bunny. "You did it! You knew how much it bothered me, and you still did it!"

  Aunt Bunny studied the tile in the ladies' room floor for a minute. Then she raised her head and threw back her shoulders. "If you mean the leavery, yes, I did it, though I didn't realize how upset you were until you called the cops. Remember, at first you said it was exciting, a mystery."

  Nan sighed. She had said that.

  Aunt Bunny nodded. "This past year has been awful. The loneliness. The emptiness. I was never so glad for summer and the Buc to come alive."

  "Okay, I get that, but what's it got to do with the leavery?"

  "First, let me tell you that all those things and several more I still have are yours."

  "Mine? How can that be?"

  "They're all things that Char gave me through the years. Birthday and Christmas presents. Friendship gifts. I loved each one, because she gave it to me." Aunt Bunny blinked against tears and cleared her throat. She closed her eyes. "Sorry. Every so often, the reality of her and Joe being gone rises up and overwhelms me."

  Nan tried to imagine what it was like to lose two of the people you loved most, but she could do no more than realize it hurt. A lot.

  Aunt Bunny took a deep breath. "Anyway, I chose to give many of her presents back to you, the niece she loved and the young woman I've come to love. I need to downsize, and I don't want Alana selling these things just because she thinks she can."

  Aunt Bunny loved her. How could she stay mad in the face of that? "But why didn't you just give the things to me? It would have saved me a lot of frustration."

  "Remember the doll?"

  "Of course. It was the first thing I found."

  "I planned to hand it to you, to explain that Char had gotten it for me when Alana was born, but you weren't in the store. I left it leaning against the cash register for you. When I came back later to explain, you were caught up in the mystery of it all."

  Nan frowned. No wonder Aunt Bunny always had the red bag hanging from her shoulder. "If you've been leaving things, who was the kid in the black shirt?"

  "That's Tim. He works the hot dog concession at the Buc. He was helping me out on his night off. He's done it a couple of other times, back before you hired Mooch. I guess Tim's now retired."

  "The whole project is retired!"

  "It is. Rog made me promise." Aunt Bunny grinned. "Tim'll miss it. He's had a grand time."

  Nan narrowed her eyes. "So Rog not only knew who you were, but he knew it was you doing the leavery?"

  "Don't be mad."

  "Of course I'm mad!"

  "Don't be. He was mad at me on your behalf. He made me promise to confess. He was very stern with this old lady."

  Nan snorted. "Old lady, my eye. You're a siren, luring upstanding young men to a life of deceit. First Tim, then Rog. A rich siren."

  Aunt Bunny seemed taken with the appellation. "Not many women my age get called something as exciting as a siren."

  "A rich one. You let me believe you were poor."

  "I did."

  "Not nice."

  Aunt Bunny held up a hand. "Let me explain. Please."

  Nan looked at the elegant woman. She didn't want to be mad at her. "Give it a shot."

  "Thank you. It's simple, really. I was enjoying the fact that you seemed to like me for me, the little old lady with the awful clothes who lived in a little apartment with tacky furnishings." She spread her hands in a beseeching gesture. "It's a rare thing to be liked for just me. Usually, people want something from me." She indicated her elegant appearance. "This is the me they know, they expect. Maybe not quite this fancy, but—"

  "I understand."

  Aunt Bunny's eyes filled with warmth and affection. "You gave me the gift of liking me, just me."

  Nan couldn't resist smiling back. "But what's with the apartment? You do have another house, right?"

  "Joe and I started our married life in that little apartment. My father was convinced Joe married me for the Buc, and he didn't approve. Joe had been a summer hire for four years before he ever asked me out. I was in love with him from the first time I saw him, but Daddy let the guys who worked for him know Blossom and I were off limits. I'd sit in the ticket booth night after night, year after year, pining over handsome Joe Truscott. He finally asked me out his senior year in college, because he figured come June, he'd have a real job and wouldn't need the Buc. Come June he had a bride, and we lived in that little apartment. He was back at the Buc, and I was back in the ticket booth."

  Nan watched Aunt Bunny's face shine as she told her story. She wished she'd known Joe.

  "It didn't take Daddy long to realize Joe might have grease under his nails because of his gift with machines, but he had a good business mind too. He's responsible for building the Buc to what it is today. Daddy soon understood that Joe was the Buc's future. Blossom married Pete, a wonderful guy, but not a drop of carny blood in his body. Blossom and I might own most of the stock, but Joe was CEO. Alana and Mike came along, and we lived in that little apartment every summer. Joe and I ran the Buc and loved being on site. Mike loved it too, though he didn't want it to be his career. Did they tell you he's a high school principal? He comes to work at the Buc for a couple of weeks every summer, sort of for old times' sake, but we all know running the enterprise isn't for him."

  "Maybe Jodi?"

  "Maybe. She's working on her MBA to prepare herself."

  "But not Alana."

  Aunt Bunny shook her head sadly. "Not Alana. She's always loved our life away from the Buc, the big house and the nice clothes. For some reason she sees the Buc as low-class, redneck, and too tacky for words." Aunt Bunny gave a sardonic smile. "She conveniently forgets that what she considers our low-class business has allowed her to live in the style she loves."

  "Calling the Buc low class is like calling Disney World low-class. Doesn't she see the smiles on the faces of the people streaming in every night?"

  "Joe and I often commented to each other that strangers couldn't wait to come to the Buc. Kids looked forward all winter to comin
g back in the summer, but our own daughter lived for the day she could leave. She didn't see the happy customers who returned year after year. She just saw the grease on her father's hands from fixing the machinery that runs the pretty rides. She hated the smell of cotton candy and hot dogs. And the long hours. Now she'd like nothing better than to sell the place."

  Ah. "That's the pressure she's putting on you."

  "Me and Blossom. Nothing can happen without cooperation from both of us. If I say we should sell, Blossom will go along with it. She and Pete have lived in California so many years that she loves the Buc the way most of us love the military. Admiration and appreciation and wouldn't it be terrible if it went away, but we don't want to join. Joe and I—and I think Jodi—love the Buc as a living, breathing being we want to keep healthy and strong. The Buc has given our lives purpose. Caring for it was our way of serving God."

  "You feel about the Buc the way I'm coming to feel about Present Perfect."

  Aunt Bunny squeezed Nan's hand. "Char would be so happy."

  "I hope."

  "I know."

  Nan smiled. "Because you want the Buc to remain in the family, Alana thinks you're irresponsible."

  "She and Jason are working hard to convince Mike and the extended family that I'm incompetent now that Joe's gone."

  "You're not, not at all."

  "Thank you. I don't think so either. I just need to hold on long enough to give Jodi a chance to prove herself."

  Nan studied Aunt Bunny, so regal in her white gown. She searched for the homey Bunny under the glamor.

  "Forgive me?" Aunt Bunny reached out and brushed a hand over Nan's hair. "Please? You're one of my favorite people. I never meant to hurt you."

  There it was, the real Bunny, kind and caring. "I realize that now. I just need a bit of time to get over feeling stupid."

  "I never intended that either, you know."

  Nan closed her eyes. How many times did one person's actions cause unintended hurt to another?

  There was a knock on the door, and Rog spoke. "You two coming out? Dinner's getting cold."

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Rog had enjoyed the first part of the evening. It was a pleasure to have someone as lovely as Nan on his arm. And she did look lovely. He sighed. He might as well admit it. He was smitten.

  Then came the Aunt Bunny revelations, and the evening went downhill from there.

  Aunt Bunny's family had been congenial and pleasant, keeping conversation going throughout the meal and making him feel comfortable. The exception was Alana, who had been her usual snitty self, at least to Nan, with Jason exhibiting the same attitude. Rog was proud of Nan as she forced herself to be amiable, refusing to lower herself to the petty sniping Alana enjoyed. More than once he caught Blossom's distressed expression at a zinger Alana threw.

  Aunt Bunny had been vivacious and chatty, clearly enjoying having her sister near. When the two women were called to the stage as part of the program, they walked up together holding hands. Sturdy Blossom and too thin Bunny. Both gave mercifully short but heartfelt speeches in tribute to their parents, after whom the wing was named. The hospital CEO and the head of Pediatric Medicine also spoke about the opportunities the wing would provide the community. To much applause, Bunny and Blossom unveiled a plaque that would hang in the lobby.

  When the dancing began, Pete and Blossom rose. Bunny looked suddenly lost, her longing for her husband palpable. Rog offered her his hand and led her to the dance floor.

  "I never knew Joe," he said as they moved around the room, "but I think he'd have been proud of you this evening, Mrs. Truscott. You've proven yourself a class act."

  She smiled at him through eyes damp with tears. "Thank you. You're a very nice man. And my friends call me Bunny."

  He felt blessed. "Bunny it is."

  They danced in silence for a few minutes. Then she said, "You don't like the Ferris wheel, do you?"

  He laughed. "I don't like anything that goes around."

  "She loves it." Bunny didn't have to say who she was.

  He glanced at their table, where Nan sat talking with Jodi. "She's not very happy with me right now."

  "She's not very happy with me either." Bunny gave a little head shake. "I never meant to hurt her. I love her."

  "And she loves you. Don't worry. She'll forgive you if she hasn't already."

  Bunny patted his shoulder. "She'll forgive you too."

  As the music ended, he shrugged. "I can only hope."

  "It's my fault she's upset at you. You told me to tell her, and I wanted this big reveal tonight. In retrospect, it was a stupid idea."

  Rog merely smiled.

  He asked Nan for the next dance, and she walked stiffly to the dance floor with him. She spent the entire dance staring at his shoulder. He felt like saying, Yo, I'm up here. Look me in the eye. Tell me what's bothering you. Spit it out. Enough of the wounded psyche nonsense.

  But he didn't say anything.

  "I'd like to go home," she said at the end of the dance. He didn't argue. They waited in silence for the parking attendant to bring the car. They drove home without a word. He glanced at her several times as she stared out the side window, but he didn't say anything.

  He hated touchy girls who got upset about nothing. Guys were so much easier. No sulks. It was either forget about it or fight about it. Either way, the issue was dealt with.

  She got out of the car before he had time to come around and open the door for her, which he'd done with a flourish when they arrived at the yacht club just hours before. She'd laughed at the gesture and taken his arm. Now she started for the steps to the rear boardwalk, back straight, jaw tight, wanting no part of him.

  No way was he letting her go inside with that self-righteous, I've-been-wronged attitude. She'd hug it to herself all night and be a real mess by tomorrow. He stepped in front of her.

  She blinked up at him in surprise, pressing her lips together. In anger? In distress?

  "Okay, enough of the silent treatment." He let his irritation show. "Tell me what's wrong."

  "You knew." She threw the words at him in accusation.

  "I know lots of things. I knew what?" He was going to make her say it. Then she'd hear how foolish it all sounded.

  "You knew about Aunt Bunny."

  "That she owned the Buc? Yes, I did."

  "And that she was the perpetrator of the leavery."

  "Yes, I knew that too."

  "And you didn't tell me!"

  "I did not."

  Her eyes narrowed, and she turned red. "You let me make a fool of myself! How could you?"

  There it was: she felt foolish. And how foolish was that? "She promised me she'd tell you."

  She stared at him. "Well, she didn't."

  "She thought tonight would be the big reveal—ta-da, isn't it great?—and you'd be happy about everything."

  Nan's only comment was a ladylike snort.

  His anger flared. "Don't you think you're over-reacting a bit here?"

  Her scowl intensified. "This is not HGTV with the big reveal at the end of the show. This was me being broadsided."

  Her tone of voice made him see red. "Here's something you might like to think about before you cast Bunny and me as villains. Who was it who lied to her parents about us? 'I found my own catch.'" He said it falsetto. "He's taking me to the gala."

  She blinked. "That's unfair."

  "How? You lied."

  "I did not lie. I don't lie."

  "Ha! We'd known each other two days, give or take, and you made us sound like a long-term item."

  She suddenly couldn't look at him. "My mother—"

  "Yeah, yeah, I know." What was he doing, lighting into her?

  "And you went along with it!" He could tell by the righteous gleam that suddenly appeared in her eye that the thought made her feel vindicated.

  "It was the lesser of two evils." When the choice was go along or call her out in front of her parents.

  Her head s
napped back. "Are you calling my mother evil?"

  "What? No!"

  She gave him an icy stare. "Thanks for a lovely evening. Don't bother seeing me to the door." She fled down the narrow boardwalk, pausing halfway to take her shoes off so she could storm away rather than tiptoe.

  #

  Nan let herself in, barred the door, and fled upstairs. She threw herself down in one of the chairs by the big window and stared into the dark.

  What had just happened?

  Tears burned her throat. She laid her head back and shut her eyes.

  Lord, can I have a do-over for this evening?

  How had things gone from such euphoric anticipation to this disappointment?

  He thought she was overreacting!

  She brushed at the wetness on her cheeks and pulled herself to her feet. She took off the lovely dress and wondered if she'd have to change the color she was painting her room because of the sad associations with sage green.

  She sniffed as she pondered her partially finished bedroom. She should have stuck with the awful pink. She brushed her teeth and washed her face, taking care to remove all the mascara runs from her crying. She curled up on the sofa under a throw and finally fell into a restless sleep.

  She awoke sluggish and cranky to a beautiful Friday morning, warm with the sky bright and the ocean calm. It was perfect for a summer weekend, and she was too miserable to enjoy it.

  Oh, Lord, help!

  She walked through the store, studying the shelves and the stock. She stopped to straighten a pile of pretty journals, angling the one on a tripod slightly to the left. She paused by the weathered wood decorative sign that read Seaside in large midnight-blue letters with waves breaking on a beach across the bottom. Weren't there supposed to be two such signs? Her head hurt so much it was difficult to think.

  There had been three, but one had sold. She knew that because she'd rung up the sale. That left two. She frowned. Had they sold one last night, or had someone walked off with one? It shouldn't be that easy to walk out of the store with a two-foot-by-one-foot sign tucked under an arm. She'd have to check the SKU numbers when she went to her laptop. She made a mental note to put two more signs on display.