WATERCOLOR WISHES: Love Along Hwy 30A, Book Four

by Chambers, Melissa

  “I’ll have Ginger find out what his morning drink is,” Dane said.

  “Good idea.” Ethan stood. “You gonna be good here?”

  “Yeah. Thanks.”

  Ethan headed for the door. “Love you.”

  “Love you, too.” Dane collapsed back on the couch, running his phone between his thumb and his middle finger. He picked it up and stared at it, wanting so badly to call her. But he needed to give her some space. She was freaked out. The last thing to help his situation would be to smother her with a phone call or text, but he felt like he needed to say something to her—end this whacked-out day with something positive.

  He pulled up a text to her.

  Sleep tight.

  He held his breath for a long moment until he saw the ellipsis moving across the bottom of the text thread, and he exhaled.

  A gif populated his screen of a princess falling backward onto a bed and then getting swarmed by bugs. He grinned, wanting to respond, but knowing he needed to end it there if he had any hope of playing it cool with her.

  14

  Marigold peeked into the back room. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I don’t know where these people came from.”

  Sebastian waved her off. “Go, make money. I’ve got this.”

  Marigold was the luckiest girl in the world to be able to call Sebastian Peyton her friend. He was a financial and business whizz. He did consulting for a living, but Marigold knew he was independently wealthy due to some brilliant investments he’d made in his twenties. So he worked for fun. Marigold couldn’t understand that concept. Sure, she enjoyed her shop, but if she could afford to pay someone to work with her year-round, she’d be there about once a week.

  Marigold chatted up a group of sixty-something women who were in town from the Memphis area. She was able to chat them right into a cozy, furry white blanket, a set of cocktail plates with decked-out fish on them, and a scented candle reminiscent of salty beach air. She was even able to sell one of her last pieces of local 30A art—one of Desiree’s pieces. Her sweet friend was the last of the local artists willing to go consignment with her. She couldn’t blame the rest of them though. They couldn’t let her hold their pieces hostage back here in this rotten location. If she ever got the customers to actually come into her store, she could sell them.

  Marigold had minored in art history in college. Art had been her true passion—not creating it herself of course. When she painted it looked like something out of a kindergarten classroom. But she did love experiencing art—the stories behind the colors, the beauty, and the awe of talent. She saw the customers out, and then headed back to check on Sebastian. “How’s it coming?”

  “Oh, sweetie. I so hope you can pull this off. This shop is going to be incredible.”

  “I know, right? I was just playing with that software last night and got carried away. I was up till like two messing with it.”

  “The lobby has a really cool setup.”

  “That’s based on one of my dad’s current hotel layouts. I can’t take credit for that.”

  “I love that the bar opens up to the shop. That way while people are getting hammered, they can see all the fabulous things inside and slide on over.”

  “Exactly. I’m going to feature local 30A art in the window to start conversations.”

  “I love it. When are you going to talk to your dad?”

  She took a deep breath. “I guess I could do it now. Would you mind watching the shop for a minute?”

  “Absolutely not.” He handed her a piece of paper. “Here’s your talking points for the business plan. If you need me, I’ll be right out there.”

  She hugged him tightly. “I love you.”

  “Love you, too, sweetie.” He kissed her on the cheek and then wiped it off like it was lipstick. “Good luck, okay?”

  “Thank you.” She collapsed in her chair and pulled up her father’s contact. Marigold was not the daddy’s girl in the family. Camellia had filled that role with flying colors. But this wasn’t about getting her dad to do her bidding. This was about offering him the opportunity to open a hotel in a prime tourist spot he’d been eyeing since they came to 30A on vacation when she was in college.

  Her dad picked up on the second ring. “Buttercup, how are you?”

  Marigold smiled, her dad always being so much less daunting than she made him out to be in her head. “I’m good. Are you busy?”

  “Well, I’m usually busy, but I’m available to talk to you.”

  “I just wanted to see if you’d given thought to making a bid on this land for a hotel.”

  “Absolutely. We’ve already got it submitted. Thanks for letting me know about it.”

  She blinked, not realizing how fast things would move. “Oh, great.” She swallowed hard as she held the talking points out in front of her. “I have my business plan ready for you.”

  “Oh,” he said, sounding taken off guard. “For the…” He trailed off.

  “Gift shop?”

  “Oh, sure. I’ll tell you what though, what I really need is someone to manage it for me.”

  The air flew out of her inflated balloon. “The hotel?”

  “Sure. It’s what you went to college for.”

  “Dad, I haven’t worked in a hotel in seven years.”

  “Yes, but you worked at one from the time you were fifteen until you left here at twenty-three. You majored in hotel management in college. You’re more qualified than most candidates who would apply for the job. It’s going to take a while to get the hotel built. If you come on home now, I can put you on staff here at our Savannah location letting you shadow our manager there for the next several months, then you’ll be ready to go once the 30A location is built.”

  She rubbed her forehead, recalibrating. “But Dad, what about my gift shop? I’ve got the business plan for it and I used some software to put together a design I’d like to send you.”

  He let out a sigh that could go either way, and she held her breath. “Send me the plan and the design.”

  Her heart soared. “Really?”

  “Sure, and copy Malcolm.”

  She stilled, her stomach going sour. “Malcolm?”

  “Yeah. He’s my right hand now. I’ll tell you what, I’m so thankful you brought him on when you did. He’s been a true asset for this company.”

  “Great,” she said through gritted teeth. “So he’s handling this whole deal?”

  “Oh, hang on. Your mother’s grabbing for the phone. I’ve got a meeting anyway. Love you.”

  “Love—”

  “Angel?” Marigold’s mother’s voice came over the phone.

  Marigold sighed. “Yeah, hey.”

  “How are you, honey? I haven’t talked to you in weeks.”

  Marigold winced. “I know. I’ve been meaning to call. What’s going on with you?”

  “Well, we’ve got some pretty big news to tell, and I just want to make sure you’re going to be okay with it.”

  Marigold closed her eyes, pinching her temple. Her mother did love the dramatic. “I’m sure I can handle whatever it is.”

  “Well, as you know, Malcolm has been with Heather, who is lovely, for almost eleven months now.”

  Heather, who is lovely. This was how her mother always referred to Malcolm’s girlfriend. Marigold was not aware of the exact month count, but still, she mumbled, “Mmm hmm.”

  “Last night, we were all out to dinner at Elizabeth’s, and right there, in front of all of us, he stood her up, and got down on one knee.”

  “Wow, that’s great,” she said, meaning it mostly. But she couldn’t help a little irritation at yet one more person in her life who was getting engaged.

  “Are you okay, honey?” her mom asked, like she had just found out she’d developed incurable cancer.

  “Of course, Mom. I’m very happy for him. He’s a great guy. He deserves a happy life.”

  “Yes, he does. And so do you. I’m just sorry you couldn’t find that with one another.�
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  If Marigold had a dime for every time her mother had made that statement, she’d be able to pay all her creditors and buy a yacht with the spare change. Of course Malcolm was a nice guy. He checked off all the proper boxes and got an A+ on paper. But he was also more locked in with her parents than she was, and that alone was enough to send her four hundred miles away.

  “He must be happy if he’s proposed to Heather,” Marigold said.

  “Well, I suppose that’s true. Oh, speak of the devil. He’s right here, passing by. Would you like to say hello?”

  Marigold’s blood pressure rose. “Actually, I’ll just text—”

  “Marigold?” came that familiar voice.

  She winced. “Hey, Malcolm. Mom says congratulations are in order.”

  “Yeah, I guess so. She said yes. I was sweating it for a moment there.”

  Marigold didn’t believe that for a second. Malcolm’s aw shucks personality was part of what drove her crazy about him. “When’s the wedding?” Marigold asked, knowing it was the cliché question, but not sure what else to say.

  “We’re going to wait a while. If we get this hotel on 30A, I’ll be traveling quite a bit until it’s ready.”

  “Dad just let me know you’re heading up the proposal. I’ve got a business plan I’d like to send you regarding the hotel gift shop. Dad said to route it your way.”

  “Sure thing. I’ll take a look.”

  Something sludgy rolled around in her stomach. Malcolm had her family wrapped around his pinky, but Marigold had never really fallen for his charms like they had.

  “Great. I’ll email it to you.”

  “Hopefully we can have dinner when I come to town.”

  “Of course. Sounds like a plan.”

  They hung up and she sat and stared at the wall. Now that Malcolm was involved, something told her the gift shop plan had just gotten ten times more complicated.

  Sebastian appeared in the doorway. “That bad, huh?”

  She dropped the phone down to her leg. “No, it was fine. It’s just, the guy who I’ve got to go through on this is…well, there’s history there.”

  “History. Sounds intense.”

  She shook her head, the old garbage from her past littering her memory. “He just sort of helped me out of a jam once, so I repaid him by ingratiating him to my father.”

  “What kind of jam, sweetie?” Sebastian asked, a look of concern crossing his features.

  She rolled her eyes. “It was stupid, really. I was dumb, of course. Imagine my stupidity now but I’m nineteen. So dumbass-ness with even less maturity.”

  He squeezed her shoulder with his sweet, loving touch, reminding her that she could tell him anything and he wouldn’t judge. Still, she couldn’t talk about that right then.

  She waved him off. “It’s no big deal. It’s just, he wanted to be together with me, and I tried, but I couldn’t. Anyway, he just got engaged, so he should be all happy and in love. I’m sure it’ll be fine.” She forced a smile to put the topic to rest. “I better go ahead and send that email.”

  “Okay. Good luck.”

  “You’re good to hang a minute while I do that?”

  “Yep.”

  “Thank you, my sweet friend,” she said and turned toward her computer. She drafted the email, and then, cringing, she hit send. It was like opening the door and letting a ghost of the past into her house.

  These were a weird couple of days, between Dane’s creepy ex Erin and Malcolm. She guessed she shouldn’t judge Dane for having attachments to his past. Looked like she had them just the same, except hers wasn’t dropping in unannounced with two little boys.

  As Marigold came back out front, both her phone and Sebastian’s dinged simultaneously. Sebastian pulled his out. “Group text, I presume.” He read it while Marigold greeted a customer who walked in the door.

  “Barbecue at the O’Neils’ house,” he said.

  “You mean at Chase’s house?” Marigold said with a smile. “They’re not married yet.”

  “Oh, but they will be. Give it ten more seconds.”

  “They just got together a few months ago.”

  “Yes, but they’re in their mid-thirties.” He tapped on his wrist. “Time’s a-tickin’.”

  “Shayla doesn’t strike me as the type who would let a biological clock make decisions for her.”

  “I’m not talking about Shayla. I’m talking about Chase. I caught him at the Target in PCB the other day looking at baby furniture.”

  “He was probably buying a gift for someone.”

  “Oh, no he wasn’t. His face went beet red when I saw him and he sang like a canary. Told me it was all he could do to keep his cool in front of Shayla, because he didn’t want to rush her, but that he was ready to have a house full of kids with her.”

  She leaned against the counter, crossing her arms over her chest. “God, how nice would it be to be adored like that.”

  “You don’t want kids right now though, do you?”

  “Me? Oh, hell no. Although, those boys that were at Dane’s place last night were pretty fun to be around.”

  “Boys at Dane’s?”

  The customer approached the counter with a necklace. “I’ll tell you later,” she said under her breath. Smiling at the customer, she said, “You ready?”

  When Marigold got home from the shop, she was surprised to find Fiona home and Bobbie there. Still there? Last night, they’d been in Fiona’s room, mostly silent with the occasional moan or giggle seeping through the wall. Marigold had put in her earbuds while she worked on the software, letting the sounds of St. Vincent and Jade Bird drown them out.

  Fiona typically worked the bar on Monday nights. She worked it every night pretty much, giving herself the occasional Sunday night off, which she’d done last night. But two nights off in a row? This was getting serious.

  “Hey,” Fiona said from the kitchen with a dreamy smile. “Come have dinner with us. You’re just in time.”

  Bobbie wrapped a long, thin arm around Fiona’s waist. “We experimented. Sort of a Mediterranean thing.”

  Marigold pointed to her bedroom. “I actually just stopped by here to put some workout clothes on,” she lied.

  Fiona eyed her, knowing this wasn’t something Marigold did unless she was on a kick, and there was no such sign of a kick. “Come on, eat with us. We’d love to have the company.”

  Bobbie bit Fiona’s ear, causing her to grin like mad. Fiona shooed her away, clearly for the sake of Marigold only. Marigold loved affection as much as the next gal, but she had to wonder how much nonstop touching two people could do before it got old.

  “Save me some. I’ll get it after my run.” Walk. She’d definitely be walking. But the word walk seemed too easy to be talked out of.

  Bobbie popped something into Fiona’s mouth and Marigold took that as her cue to head into her room. Five minutes later, she was suited up and headed out. “Bye!” she said as she shut the door, their reply delayed as the two of them probably forgot she existed for the moment.

  She kicked off her shoes and left them on the deck before hopping down the stairs to the beach. She stood there breathing in the ocean air a moment like it could take her stress away. Sometimes it could.

  She glanced in both directions. Go right, she told herself, Go right. Right was safe and far from any temptation. But left was so alluring. She was just walking by. It wasn’t like she was going to stop in at his house or throw seashells at his window. She was on a walk. That was it.

  As she got closer, she found that she had gravitated away from the shore, gradually moving inland. He wasn’t outside, of course, but his sliding glass door was open, and his TV was on. The idea that he was right there sent a sweet shiver through her chest. That was probably just the evening chill.

  Her feet took her closer to his place. Just as she was getting ready to walk away, she saw movement in his unit as he walked into the living room from one of the other rooms. Her belly did a backflip as he look
ed up and caught her gaze. He stopped in his tracks, and then headed out to the balcony.

  She pulled out her earbuds. “Hey, I had no idea this was your building,” she lied.

  “I had no idea you were a beach-walker.”

  “Oh, yeah. Every night. Sometimes two or three times a night. Sometimes I don’t even sleep I’m walking so much.”

  He smiled at her. “How come I’ve never seen you out here?”

  She put her hands on her hips. “Hum. That’s odd. You should have seen me. You’re probably just too busy watching Twilight to take a look out your balcony.”

  “Ah, that’s it,” he said.

  This was all very Romeo and Juliet with him on the balcony and her on the beach. Except for it seemed she was Romeo in this scenario. Story of her life. “Have you gotten your exercise in for the day?” she asked.

  “You mean besides those eight hours I spent at the gym bench pressing triple my weight? No, I don’t guess so.” She loved that he was playing along.

  She tossed her hands out to the sides. “Well?” Her heart skittered as his smile widened.

  He held up a finger. “Hold that thought.”

  She flipped through her phone while she waited, keeping her eyes trained on it as he finally approached her. She looked up at him like she was shocked. “What a coincidence, the two of us bumping into each other like this.”

  He pocketed his hands, the cutest closed-mouth grin on his lips that she could just eat. “Mmm hmm.”

  “So I see you’re a survivor. Night with two cute little boys in the books, huh?” she asked.

  He pulled his hands out of his pockets and squeezed her upper arms. “I’m so sorry about all of that.”

  “You have nothing to apologize for, Dane.”

  “I wasn’t sure how you’d be feeling about all of it today. That’s why I didn’t text. I was trying to give you a little space.”

  “And I end up on your doorstep.” She pointed at him. “See, I told you I overstepped.”

  He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her in. “I’m really happy to see you, Marigold.”

  Her heart free-fell at her name on his lips. “It’s nice to see you as well.”