Beneath a Billion Stars

by Julie Carobini

  Priscilla laughed lightly at that, her expression open, transparent. “I’d have to agree with you on that, dear one,” she said to Sadie as she reached up and stroked the young girl’s mop of dark curls. “Yes, I definitely agree.”

  Chapter 8

  Yesterday played in her mind on a loop. It started with the vision of him, his strong hand holding his young niece’s hand, and ended with that toe-curling kiss. Even now, as she walked into the lobby of the inn, her legs threatened to buckle under the power of that kiss’s memory.

  “Hey, Priscilla,” Thomas called, as he jogged toward the valet lot, car keys in hand.

  She waved in response and entered through the inn’s double doors. Inside, the lobby buzzed. The sun had decided to come out today—always a reason for celebration on this part of California’s coast, where fog showed up, bags in hand, without so much as a call first.

  As proof of the sun’s ability to wake up the central coast’s inhabitants, Trace had a phone in her ear and a line of people waiting for assistance at the concierge desk. Trace wore her emotions on her sleeves, and if Priscilla had to guess what she was feeling right now, she’d say panic.

  Priscilla checked the time on her phone and slipped behind the counter, joining Trace. Amber’s foster mother had decided to drive out to the inn to meet her and they weren’t due in for another twenty minutes.

  A platinum-haired woman in cute jeans and a knit top approached her. “Dear, could you tell me how to get to wine country? My friend and I would like to take a drive up there and visit some wineries.”

  “Yes, of course,” Priscilla said, and abruptly turned when Trace started slapping her on the rotator cuff with a flyer. She took it and handed it over to the woman. “Here is a list of the wineries in the Los Olivos area, along with a map to get there.”

  The woman’s friend peered over her shoulder. “That looks far.”

  “It’s still early,” Priscilla said, winging it. “Would you like me to see if there are spots left on a wine excursion?”

  The first woman nodded. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “Then we could drink all the wine we want,” the friend quipped.

  Priscilla laughed. “That is certainly true.”

  Trace hung up the phone with a dramatic flair and let out a groan. She exhaled and pushed Priscilla aside in a way that was neither mean-spirited nor apologetic. “Here, let me help you with that. You like red or white best?”

  The platinum-haired woman frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  Her friend cackled. “She’s talking about wine. And we like it all, so give us your best tour.”

  “Okay, ladies. You sit right over there”—she used the flyer to point toward the comfy overstuffed couches that flanked the lobby fireplace—“and I’ll get crackin’ on this.”

  The phone rang and Trace quirked a look at Priscilla. “You going to get that?”

  Priscilla startled and reached for the handset. “Sea Glass Inn, concierge desk.”

  “Priscilla?” Wade’s voice, deep and professional, came through the line.

  “Wade.”

  He laughed, the sound of it like warm butter to her hungry soul. “This is ... unexpected,” he said. “Have you taken a new position at the inn?”

  “Not at all. I came in to wait for Amber and noticed a line at the concierge desk.”

  He whistled. “So you jumped in to help. Is there anything you can’t do?”

  “Stop,” she chided him, turning away from Trace. “Is there something I can help you with?”

  “Forget about that. Then again, yes, there is something you can help me with, Ms. Cornwall. You can have dinner with me when I return from New York.”

  The warmth of a blush crept up her neck. “Sounds lovely.”

  Trace spun around, her brows kitted together tightly. “What sounds lovely?”

  Priscilla put her hand over the phone and mouthed, “It’s Wade.”

  “Mm-hmm. I see. Well tell him we’ve got work to do.”

  Priscilla licked her bottom lip. Should she remind Trace that she didn’t actually work at the concierge desk?

  Wade interrupted her thoughts. “It’s a date then.”

  She nodded, though he couldn’t see her. “It is.”

  The lobby doors opened and Amber came bounding in, more animated than she had ever seen her. Beside her was a squat woman in workout clothes, her long, black hair pulled up into a thick ponytail. The woman jostled her keys in her hand and swiveled her chin back and forth, as if looking for someone.

  “Wade?” she said, her eyes trained on her guests, “Amber’s here.”

  “And you have to go.” He sounded almost ... sad.

  She bit her bottom lip now, trying to squelch a smile that almost certainly showed up on her face. His voice was like cream added to a smooth espresso. How had she not noticed that before?

  “I’ll see you when you get back.” She wanted to tell him to be safe, to get a good night’s sleep, and to have a good time—but not too good, so he’d want to return. But instead, all she added was, “Bye for now.”

  Amber and her foster mom approached the desk. “This where you work?” the girl said.

  Priscilla shook her head, slung her bag over her shoulder, and came around the front of the desk area. “I was using the phone.” She reached out her hand to Amber’s foster mom. “I’m Priscilla.”

  “Cilla,” Amber reminded her.

  Priscilla laughed. “That’s right. The girls have given me a nickname.”

  The woman pumped her hand once and let it go. “I’m Lynn. Can I see some ID?”

  “Lynnnnn!” Amber whined.

  Priscilla smiled and pulled her bag open. “I don’t mind, Amber. We all want to make sure you are in safe hands.” As she held out her driver’s license, she flipped a look at Lynn. The woman’s stern expression appeared the norm, as if her frown was as comfortable as a well-worn shoe.

  “That looks fine,” Lynn said. She turned to Amber, her expression less harsh. “You be good. Listen to Miss Cornwall, you hear?” Then she looked back to Priscilla. “You’ll drive her back home?”

  “Absolutely.”

  When she’d gone, Priscilla put her arm around Amber, ushering her toward the cafe.

  “Where we goin’?” Amber asked.

  “Was thinking of having a stack of pancakes. How does that sound?”

  “You eat carbs?”

  Priscilla grinned. “With pleasure!”

  They took a table on the patio where the sun beamed, the air punctuated by the inn’s population awakening to the call of seagulls and the ongoing splash of low-lofting waves. It was the perfect kind of day for what she had planned and she tilted her chin to the sky, sending God a quiet thank you.

  After two stacks of pancakes, a bowl of fruit, and two glasses of juice were delivered, they both dug in.

  “Lynn was kinda mad,” Amber finally said.

  Priscilla froze. “About bringing you here? Oh darling, I would have gladly driven out to pick you up.”

  “Nah. Wasn’t that. She’s just ticked she has to live so far inland.” She shrugged. “Says it’s hot and dusty. I think she wanted to drive me so she could go to the beach.”

  “Oh?”

  Amber nodded. “Yeah, I saw a beach chair in the trunk.”

  “Sounds like you come out to the beach often.”

  “Never.” She dug back into her stack of pancakes with gusto, dipping each forkful into a moat full of maple syrup.

  “I see. Well, did you bring your swimsuit?”

  Amber’s expression fell, the corners of her mouth tugging downward. A tear fell onto her hand and instinctively Pricilla reached out and grasped it. “Oh, don’t cry. If you forgot your suit, it’s no problem.”

  The teen pulled her hand away, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “I figured shorts were good enough.”

  “Or we could visit the inn’s gift shop. My treat.”

  Amber frowned. “Isn
’t that for old ladies?” Her expression showed that she was dead serious.

  Priscilla collapsed against the back of her chair, laughing. She hadn’t been a teen in, um, too many years. What did she know about what they liked to wear? As she thought about it, she realized there were an awful lot of floral prints in that gift shop—she’d have to discuss that with Meg one of these days. She leaned forward. “Maybe you’re right. There’s a cute shop I’ve been meaning to check out over at the harbor. We’ll go there first. Sound good?”

  Amber shrugged a shoulder, but her countenance softened. She continued scooping up pancake bites with gusto as Priscilla’s gaze drifted out to the lively path of visitors heading down to the beach. Her mind drifted back to Jackson and Meg’s party and the way she had reacted to Wade—and he to her. In the past couple of days, the daydream had showed up like a fairy godmother who’d stitched a broken heart and disappeared with a poof only to reappear and do it all over again.

  When their plates were empty, Priscilla stood. “Let’s go! We have a whole day to conquer.”

  “You have way more energy than other people your age,” Amber said, following along.

  She looked at the girl over her shoulder. “How old do you think I am anyway?”

  Amber shrugged, a tiny smile on her lips. “Fifty or something?”

  Priscilla gasped. “Darling, when I am fifty, I will embrace my life just as I do now, but dear girl, I am not yet there. Not for a long while.”

  “Whatever.”

  And there it was, the word that every teen seems to have in their repertoire so they could whip it out at precisely the right moment.

  They rounded the corner into one of the newly designed halls that served as a type of gallery for sketches by Sophia. A fashion designer by trade, she leant her talents to the inn that she and Jackson own.

  Amber slowed, her gaze curious, jumping from drawing to drawing until settling on one. “Who did these?” she asked.

  Priscilla stopped in front of the one that had caught Amber’s eye. It was of a girl in a long white coat with bold black buttons. She stood near the edge of the railway, her hair drifting away from her head, as if on a breeze. Very cosmopolitan, yet fun, too.

  “Hello, Priscilla.”

  Priscilla stepped back quickly, startled. “Sophia! How lovely to see you.” She glanced at Amber. “We were just admiring your work.”

  Sophia gave her a kind smile, her humility evident. She looked Amber in the eyes and reached out a hand. “Hello, I’m Sophia.”

  “This is my friend, Amber,” Priscilla said.

  Amber shook her hand, staring up at her. “You drew the pictures?”

  “I did.”

  “Wow. They’re really good.”

  “Why thank you, Amber. Do you like to draw?”

  Amber shrugged, a gesture she’d shown more than once when confronted with a question she either didn’t want to answer—or didn’t know how to.

  “Well,” Sophia said, unfazed, “you have your life ahead of you. Many years to discover what you love to do the most.”

  Sophia turned to Priscilla. “I was wondering if you have seen Wade today? I need to speak with him about a matter as soon as possible.”

  Priscilla’s mind went suddenly where it should not have. Sophia was a married woman—a happily married one. Then why did her question prick the balloon that had been holding her heart aloft for days, sending it into a gradual spiral?

  “I, uh, actually, I believe he’s on his way to New York right about now.”

  “Oh.” Even when she was disappointed, Sophia was beautiful. “Well then, perhaps I’ll try to phone him.”

  Priscilla nodded. “Yes, yes, that would be best.”

  When Sophia had gone and she and Amber were in Priscilla’s car on the way to the harbor bikini shop, Amber said, “Cilla? Why don’t you like Sophia?”

  Priscilla shrank back, still holding onto the steering wheel. “I love Sophia! Why would you think that I don’t like her?”

  Amber was doing that shruggy thing again. “You were giving off vibes.”

  “I was not giving off ... vibes.” She paused. “What kind of vibes?”

  “Like you were protecting your stuff.”

  Priscilla’s heart sank. She continued down the windy road to the harbor, but took a quick glance at her teenaged passenger, seeing her in a blindingly new light. How many times had this poor girl moved taking everything she owned with her? How often had she found herself “protecting her stuff”? A knot formed in her throat. If Amber saw in Priscilla what she said she did, then it must have been there. Because she would know.

  They pulled into a space in the parking lot that abutted the concrete path surrounding the harbor where boats of varying sizes were moored. A man in a pirate getup strolled along, an eye patch over one eye and a parrot on his shoulder.

  “That looks crazy,” Amber said. She turned toward Priscilla. “Can we go see him?”

  Priscilla smiled, grateful for a change of subject.

  Together they wandered down to the water’s edge, stopping long enough for Amber to feed the parrot. Afterward, they walked over to the ice cream place with the line out the door and Priscilla made a mental note not to worry about the calories, but instead, to revel in the moment. The sun was overhead, she was with a new friend, and they had a day of adventures, whatever they may be, ahead of them.

  “Psst, look over there,” Amber said, before taking another lick of her chocolate brownie ice cream.

  Priscilla tilted her head. “At the older couple?”

  “Yeah.” She took another nibble of her ice cream. “Aren’t they cute, sharing that ice cream like that?”

  She was right. The two were sitting next to each other at a small, round table with one cup of ice cream and two spoons. Priscilla smiled. “They are darling.”

  Amber gave her an impish smile, and inhaled the rest of her cone.

  By the time they found the bikini shop, they had already feasted on a stack of buttermilk carbs and an ice cream chaser, giving them both more energy than if they had downed two espressos. Amber’s eyes grew saucer-wide at the abundance of swimwear and cover-ups hung floor to ceiling in the small shop. And by the looks of the clientele, Priscilla knew they’d hit the jackpot. She was definitely the matron of the bunch.

  That suited her fine. She joined the throng on the hunt, the scrape of hangers against long metal racks ringing in their ears. Calls of “look at this” and “this is perfect” and “do you have this in blue?” punctuated the air like corn popping under a heat lamp.

  She had forgotten how exhilarating shopping could be.

  And downright frustrating too ...

  “I look so fat in this.” Amber peered into the mirror after she’d tried on her fourth pair of bikini bottoms.

  Priscilla had already learned it was fruitless to tell her how beautiful her body was and how lovely she looked. Saying so would somehow drive the stake of criticism further into her heart. Just when she began to wonder if they would ever make it to the beach, the shop owner stuck her head into the room.

  “Don’t mind me.” She held out a pair of board shorts with swirls of dark chocolate and baby blue on them. “I thought you might want to try these—they’re a favorite around here. And the great thing is, you can pair them with any bikini top you like.” She handed Amber the shorts. “Ta ta, ladies!”

  Amber’s eyes lit for the first time since she began trying on swimsuits.

  “Try them on,” Priscilla said, trying not to look overly excited. She didn’t care to ruin the moment with too much enthusiasm.

  Amber swiveled once in front of the mirror. “These are perrrrffffect!”

  “I agree.” She hoped her words of positive affirmation would not somehow change Amber’s mind.

  Minutes later, they exited the shop and Amber said, “Whatdya want to do next?”

  Priscilla slowed. She looked out to the harbor where several paddle boarders rowed along, like synchroniz
ed swimmers. She raised an eyebrow at Amber. “Want to try it?”

  “Getting on one of those surfboard things?”

  “Sure. Why not?”

  Amber shrugged, but this time the action was accompanied by a huge smile. “Heck, yeah.”

  She had not laughed this much in months. After driving back to the inn and shimmying into their swimsuits, Priscilla and Amber walked down to the Kayak Shack to rent paddle boards. A guy named Brett gave them a ten-minute lesson on how to start out on the board—and released them out into the harbor as if they knew what they were doing.

  Amber had amazing balance. While Priscilla had to begin by paddling out on her knees, Amber stood up from the get-go, feet shoulder-length apart on the grip pad, her shoulders erect and relaxed.

  “C’mon, Cilla,” Amber coaxed as Priscilla paddled out into the middle of a channel. “You can do it. I know you can stand.”

  She peered over her shoulder at the young girl. “You make it look easy!”

  Amber laughed, digging her paddle into the water left side, right side, left side ... “It’s super easy! My dog could do it ... well, if I had a dog, he could do it. Try to get up, okay? It’s funner that way.”

  Priscilla’s board wobbled more than she had hoped, the wake of a nearby boat wreaking havoc with her balance. She thought back on her conversation with Wade, remembering how he preferred “sides” on his water-going vessels. At this moment, as seawater splashed over her board, she began to see his point.

  “Do it, Cilla!” Amber coaxed, obviously reveling in her ability to master paddle boarding in such a quick minute.

  “Alright, yes, here I go.”

  “Yeah, here you go.”

  Priscilla laughed, almost to tears, but she held herself steady landing one foot on the grip pad, then the other. Slowly she stood, holding the paddle out to one side and her other arm out to the other for balance. She reminded herself to breathe.

  “You did it! Woot—yeah, girl!”

  Amber was enjoying herself, and to Priscilla, that alone was worth the price of admission, aka the demise of her ego.

  “Let’s go out to the main channel!” Amber shouted as her paddle picked up speed.