by Jaci Burton
"Telling me their hopes and dreams isn't a burden."
"Isn't it? Knowing how you struggle to make ends meet, knowing what their dreams could potentially cost you? They're smart kids."
"I would do anything to give them what they wanted. College, a future, the Olympics." She pressed her fingers to her temples. How was she going to afford these things?
"Sell me the motel. Then you can give them everything they want. Everything you want."
Her head shot up. "That's what this is about? The motel?" She was agonizing about fulfilling her children's needs and he was angling it in a way that she would sell him the motel?
"No, that's not what this is about. But it's an answer."
Suddenly it hit her, a scenario so heinous it made her sick to her stomach. "You used them."
Mitch frowned. "What?"
"That's why they never mentioned marine biology and Olympics to me before."
"What are you talking about?"
"Those ideas were never in their heads until you put them there. How could you do that to them, Mitch? How could you set up my kids to further your own goals?"
He blanched, then reached for her hand. "Greta, I would never do that. They told me the first day on the beach about those things."
She jerked her hand away. "Bullshit." She slammed her chair back from the table and stood, so sick she palmed her stomach. "Pushing at me about the motel is one thing. I'm an adult. I can take it. But using my kids..." She glared at him. "Stay away from me. Stay away from my children."
He held up his hands. "Greta, you have it wrong. You know me. You have to know I would never use Jeff and Zoey that way."
She shook her head. "I don't believe you. I don't want to talk to you or see you again." Her eyes filled with tears and she blinked them back. "I mean it. You keep away from my kids. And you get the hell out of my motel. I want you out of there now." She left the picnic basket, ran to her kids to round them up and, despite their protests, hurried them back to the motel. Back to her home base, where she could protect them.
Where she could protect herself.
Where she could protect her heart from further being stomped on by a man she had thought she cared about, who she thought cared about her.
She changed clothes and locked herself in her office the rest of the day. Fortunately, her mother must have noticed how distraught she was, because she offered to take the kids with her. The kids were pretty upset by Mitch's abrupt departure, but she was doing what was best for them. They wouldn't understand how they could be manipulated by an adult.
She did, though.
She hadn't seen it coming, had been so overwhelmed by him, had let him lead her on, charm her children, her mother...
God, how could she be so stupid! It was one thing to use her--she'd had her eyes wide open the entire time. She knew what he wanted. She'd expected him to keep hammering away at her in his attempts to get her to sell the motel. But to prey on her children? That was unforgiveable.
She thought she knew him, thought she was getting to know him even better these last few days.
She didn't know him at all.
At least her ex-husband was up front about being a bastard. Mitch had been insidious about it.
When Heath came on duty early that evening, she let him take over and went to her house, took a shower and locked herself in for the night.
Tomorrow was Christmas Eve. She had things to do. She wasn't nearly ready for the holidays, and not even close to being in the holiday spirit.
She stared out the back door, watching the crest of white waves slide into the sand.
She thought of Mitch, of how easily he'd led her to believe he was a nice guy.
The things they'd done together...her body still burned remembering the way he'd touched her, kissed her, how it felt to have him inside her.
Her heart ached. She had started to care about Mitch, had started to think that maybe--
She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling stupid yet again.
When the hell was she going to smarten up about men? When was she going to learn that they couldn't be trusted?
When was she going to stop handing a man her heart on a silver platter so he could crush it in his hand?
Chapter Eleven
Mitch stood on the balcony of his penthouse suite in Daytona Beach, staring out at the blue water as dawn broke over the horizon.
For the first time in years, he didn't feel like grabbing a board and catching the first wave of the day. What he wanted to do was get in a car, drive down to Ft. Lincoln Beach and force Greta to listen to him.
He shouldn't have left. It wasn't like him to walk out on a fight, especially when he'd been unjustly accused. He should have stayed and talked to her, calmed her down, followed her back to the motel and made her listen to him until she believed him.
But Greta had been burned badly by a man before, so trust wasn't easy for her. Something about her kids, and their dreams, and her not knowing about them...
That wasn't territory he needed to be stomping all over.
He just hoped the Christmas present he'd left at her mother's house for the kids didn't piss her off. But he'd already done it and it was too late to undo it.
Eventually she'd figure everything out. Until then, the best thing he could do for her was stay the hell out of her way. She'd already had one man try to control her life. He wasn't going to be the next man to do it. She had to have the right to make some choices on her own.
He'd already made his choices, and he had some suggestions, if she'd ever give him the chance to tell her about them.
In a few days Greta had had a profound effect on him.
He sipped his coffee, looked out over the water and thought about the little girl with braces and braids he'd brushed off when he was an arrogant nineteen-year-old. He'd been destined for big things back then, couldn't wait to travel the world and see everything, make his fortune and become famous.
He'd traveled the world, seen everyone, made his fortune. Fame? Eh, he wasn't sure he was famous or not, or whether that even mattered.
The only thing that mattered to him right now was that little girl with braids and braces who'd grown into an amazingly capable woman with auburn hair and gorgeous emerald eyes. A woman who'd almost single handedly raised two bright, incredible children.
There was this family that he wanted to get to know better, because he cared about them. All of them.
Which frankly shocked the hell out of him, because if there was one thing Mitch Magruder didn't do, it was put down roots.
For the first time in his life, he suddenly wanted to. And that was a scary damn thing to even think about.
Unfortunately, the one person he wanted to talk to about it had just kicked him out of her life.
So now all he could do was take a step back and wait.
And hope.
Christmas Eve was always a bustle of activity for Greta. The kids, hyped up on excitement, drove her crazy, but always managed to drag her into the holiday spirit. And right now she really needed it after what had gone down with Mitch yesterday.
Jeff and Zoey had zoomed through their chores at the motel that day with vigor, knowing there was a payoff at the end of the day. She grinned watching them work, wondering why they couldn't be that zealous every day.
She had someone covering the motel that evening, so they headed off to her mother's for dinner. As was typical, the whole house was decked out in lights. Don had done most of the outside lights--beautiful white icicles that now draped down and blinked at passersby.
"Where's Mitch?" her mother asked as soon as they kids brushed by to go find their cousins.
"He's not coming, Mom."
Don frowned, leaning over their mother's shoulder. "Why not?"
Her mother crossed her arms. "I thought the two of you--"
"I don't want to talk about it. And don't mention it to the kids, either." She'd told Jeff and Zoey that Mitch had to leave on business at the
last minute. They'd been disappointed, and of course it was a lie, but it was the best she could come up with. Now she could only hope her mother and brother would let the subject drop.
The tree was lit up, filled to maximum with ornaments, new and old, and the angel sitting at the top that Greta could still remember her father putting up there every year. It never failed to fill her eyes with tears seeing that burnished gold angel, tarnished with the passing years, sitting atop the sweet-smelling pine tree.
They ate ham and roast beef--turkey would come tomorrow--filled their bellies until they wanted to burst, then cleaned up and sat in the living room playing games and singing Christmas carols, laughing and reminiscing about holidays past. Don and Suz and their kids took off around eleven. They'd be back for lunch tomorrow. Jeff and Zoey headed into one of the bedrooms to watch a movie--hopefully to fall asleep--and Greta and her mother locked themselves in her mother's bedroom to do their annual midnight present wrapping.
"I swear, Mom," Greta said, dragging a bag onto the bed. "Every year I believe we're going to get to this early, and every year it seems to get later."
Her mother shrugged. "I already wrapped most of mine, so when I finish these last few I can help with yours."
"Thanks." Greta had bought clothes for the kids. Necessary evils and the kids hated it, but she also managed to save up for a new MP3 player for Jeff and some DVDs Zoey had put on her wish list. Had to put some fun things in there too.
"You want to talk to me about Mitch now?"
Greta shook her head. "He wasn't who I thought he was, that's all."
Her mother's fingers stalled on the gift she was wrapping. "What do you mean?"
"I really don't want to talk about this, Mom. Not right now." Not when her emotions were so raw. "Maybe after Christmas."
She heard her mother's sigh. "All right. But you know I'm always here for you, Greta."
"I know."
She went back to wrapping, trying to keep her head in thinking about tomorrow, about the looks on her kids faces when they opened their gifts. When the mattress bounced hard, her gaze shot up and she looked across the bed at a colorful, thick book her mother had plopped there.
"What's that?"
"A book for Jeff."
Greta laid her palms on the mattress and leaned forward to read the title. Her heart started beating faster, her skin flushing with heat.
Colorful marine life littered the cover. The title of the book was spread out in sea-colored lettering: World Wild Marine Life.
"Mom?"
"Yeah."
Greta swallowed, her throat dry as a desert. "Why that book?"
"Jeff picked it up a few months ago when we were at the bookstore and was paging through it. Isn't it beautiful?"
Oh, God. Oh, God. Her legs wobbled and she sat on the side of the bed. "He did?"
"Yes. This one and several others about oceans and the environment. This one was the most expensive so I thought I'd get him this one to start, and maybe a couple others for his birthday in February."
Oh, shit.
"Greta, what's wrong? You look pale."
"Did you know Zoey wanted to be an Olympic Swimmer?"
Her mother laughed. "She swims like a fish, that one. Have you seen how long she can hold her breath under water, and how fast she swims laps at Don's pool?"
She'd seen Zoey swim before, but as usual her head had been on what needed to be done at the motel.
Where had she been when her children had needed her? When their dreams for the future had sprouted? Hadn't her eyes been open? Hadn't she been listening?
Where had she been when a wonderful man had tried to point these things out to her? Instead of recognizing this amazing gift, she'd thrown it back in his face and accused him of using her children to buy her motel.
She lifted her gaze to her mother. "Oh, Mom, I've made a terrible mistake."
Her mother came over and sat on the bed next to her and took her hand. "Your palms are damp. What's wrong, honey?"
She explained about the beach, what Mitch had told her about the kids, then what she'd accused Mitch of doing.
Her mother frowned. "Greta. How could you think he'd use Jeff and Zoey that way?"
Her eyes stung with tears. She shook her head. "I don't know. Oh, Mom, I said awful things to him. My own inadequacies as a parent and I blamed them on him."
"That's enough. It's not your fault that you try to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. If I hadn't been in the bookstore with Jeff and Zoey that day, I wouldn't have known about this, either. You know how kids are. They don't tell everyone everything, and often their friends know more about their dreams than their own parents."
Tears fell down her cheeks, her stomach clenching in pain and emptiness. What must Mitch think of her? "I feel so bad. For my kids, for Mitch. I've had my head so wrapped around that damn motel that I've neglected everything in my life."
"Now stop it. You have not. You're a good mother, Greta, and Jeff and Zoey love you. You give so much of yourself to them. Most kids would kill to have you for a mother."
She managed a smile. "Thanks, Mom. I appreciate that. But I need to stop living for that motel. I need to stop living for Dad." The last was said in a tiny voice, her gaze directed at her mother, hoping she wouldn't break her mother's heart.
But her mother's gaze never wavered. "It's about time you realized that. Greta, I have never interfered in the way you run the motel. Your father gave that to you to run as you please, and the decisions you make about it are yours."
"I know. But you know your input is always welcome."
"Well, I've never wanted to say anything, but I guess it's time I do. Greta, I loved your father with all that I have, all that I am. But he's gone. He will never be forgotten by any of us who loved him, but you don't honor his memory by refusing to live your own life. He wouldn't have wanted you to live in the past and never move forward. That's not why he left you the motel. He wouldn't want you to live frozen in the past. He wanted a future for you, honey."
She squeezed her eyes shut, realizing the mistakes she'd made because she was too afraid to take a step forward. She'd cocooned herself in her own little safe haven, and turned down the opportunity of a lifetime for herself, and more importantly, for her children.
She'd been so blind, in so many ways. "You're right." When she opened her eyes again, she knew exactly what she needed to do, where she needed to start. "I have to find Mitch. I need to apologize."
She went to her mother's computer and looked up the phone number for Mitch's hotel in Daytona Beach. He probably wasn't even there, had no doubt hopped a flight back to Hawaii. After all, why stay here now? But this was a start. She called the hotel, asked if Mitch was still there. They wouldn't give out that information, of course, but she asked the front desk to get him a message.
Now she could only hope his staff was as efficient as ever, and that her message would reach him.
She knew it was too late, that she'd lost the chance to be with the one man who'd given her hope. But she could at least tell him she was sorry.
"Greta, there's something I need to give you."
She looked up from the desk at her mother. "What?"
"Mitch brought this over the other day and asked that I keep it until Christmas morning, but you'd better take a look."
"What's in it?"
Her mother rolled her eyes. "I have no idea. The envelope is sealed."
It was a white envelope with her name on it. She took the envelope and slid her finger under the seal, opening it. Inside was a letter from some New York bank in official sounding language indicating that Mitch had set up a trust for Jeff and Zoey, with annual payouts to Greta for her children to take private swimming lessons. Trips for Jeff for marine research would be arranged at Greta's discretion, and their college education would be fully funded.
Under the letter, Mitch had hand written a note.
For your marine biologist and your Olympic swimmer. Merry
Christmas, Greta. Love, Mitch.
Greta stopped breathing for a minute.
It wasn't an offer to buy the motel, there were no stipulations included. And when she'd sent him away, no second letter had arrived rescinding the trust.
Oh, Mitch.
Her heart ached so much she thought she'd die.
She handed the letter up to her mother, who read it, fell into the chair next to her and burst into tears.
Chapter Twelve
Greta did her best to hold it together Christmas Day, to be cheerful and fun for the kids, who loved all their gifts. They were always so appreciative of every gift they received, no matter how small.
Jeff loved his book on marine life, had found a quiet corner after all the chaos of present opening had died down to sift through every page. He sipped hot chocolate and read, seemingly content to be off by himself, not with his new MP3 player downloading tunes, but absorbing every page of the book.
Zoey was playing a new video game one of her cousins had received. Greta was inhaling her fourth cup of coffee since she hadn't managed to sleep last night. Neither her morning shower nor the caffeine seemed to be jolting her out of her zombie-like state.
Her brother wrapped his arm around her. "Stay up all night wrapping gifts?" he asked.
She managed a smile. "Something like that."
"You want to tell me what went down with you and Mitch? I warned him not to hurt you. If he did..."
She tilted her head back. "He didn't hurt me at all, Don. I hurt him."
Don frowned. "You know, I might be a big, dumb fisherman, but I'm your brother and I'm here for you if you need to talk."
Her heart filled with warmth and love. She laid her head on his shoulder. "Thanks. I don't think you can help me, though. I really messed up."
He squeezed her harder. "There's nothing that can't be fixed, Greta."
If only. "This can't."
"Oh, I don't know about that. I'll bet it can."
She was about to argue, but Don half turned her, and she caught sight of the best Christmas present ever--her mother strolling down the hallway with Mitch at her side.
Her hand trembled, and Don took the cup away from her.
"Let me take that before you drop it and Mom yells at you," he whispered in her ear. "Merry Christmas, Mitch."
Mitch nodded at Don and smiled, but his gaze returned immediately to Greta.