A sigh left her lips. “He’s broke, OK? On the verge of financial collapse.”
“Now, was that so hard to tell me? This is great news. What are your next steps to push him toward selling?”
And here it went—the plea to her mother’s humanity, if she had any left. “To tell you the truth, I’m not sure I should anymore.”
“Come again?” Disapproval seethed from Mom’s tone.
“You heard me, Mom.”
“And I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Don’t you know what’s at stake here, Bella?”
Bella walked to the edge of the water, and when a wave crept over her toes, its cold temperature shocked her after the warmth of the dry sand. But after a few moments its effects on her skin diminished. “If you’d just tell me what I want to know about my father, then—”
“Your fath—” Mom exhaled with such force that static crackled over the line. “The stakes are much higher than that. You’re thinking small potatoes, a flash in the pan. Bella, if we don’t get that inn, then the other properties we purchased—at premiums, mind you—are going to tank us. We need to secure that property—and soon—or this project could drive us into bankruptcy.”
“Bankruptcy?” A breeze whistled across the beach, taking her hair hostage for a moment before settling down. “How?”
“The resort will be a huge profit-driver for us, but we need to complete it before we can actually gain said profits. You know that.”
“Obviously. But why will it bankrupt us? Last time I looked, I thought we were sitting fine.”
“A few of our other prospective projects have fallen through.” Mom’s voice steeled. “In short, you can’t fail me.”
So Bella was supposed to be there for Mom even though her mother had not been there for Bella in so many ways? “Why not sell the properties on either side of Ben’s and start over in another community more willing to play ball?”
“No. It has to be Walker Beach.”
Squinting as she looked up and down the beach, Bella understood the appeal. Still . . . “Mom, there are other beautiful properties, other small towns, along the coast.”
“Drop it, Bella.”
Was that an edge of anger? Why? Her mom had been calmer that time she’d gone toe to toe with attorneys threatening to sue the company over a supposed breach of contract.
Finally. A crack in Mom’s armor. Maybe she had a heart underneath all that iron after all. “I can’t. I deserve to know.”
“Walker Beach is where I met your father, all right?”
Whoa. That’s definitely not what Bella had expected to hear. Her heart clobbered her sternum. “What?”
“I was young and I . . .” Mom halted. “I’ll tell you the rest of the story once you’ve secured Ben Baker’s signature on the dotted line.”
And there was the mother she knew. Bella wasn’t going to get anything more from her. For now. “I’ll let you know when I have something to share.” Then she hung up and plunged the phone into the back pocket of her jean shorts.
Despite her attempts, her mom wasn’t going to budge. Bella’s noble efforts to find her way out of her predicament—to choose her family or to choose Ben and his—had been for naught.
But no, she’d learned something. A tiny inkling of a something but more than she’d known before this moment. All this time what she’d allowed Ben and Bud Travis to believe might actually be true.
Her father might be from Walker Beach.
What if she could find out about him without Mom’s information? Then she wouldn’t have to betray Ben. It might even mean she could explore the feelings firing between them. If he knew she’d chosen a relationship with him, maybe he’d forgive her for her initial deception when she told him the truth.
“Slow down, Bella.” She was getting ahead of herself. There was still the possibility that Bud was going to come up empty and that the little information she had would lead her nowhere, leaving her to rely on Mom once again.
But what if?
She allowed the thought to linger as she trudged back up the path from the beach toward the inn. Ben hadn’t been around when she’d come out of her room this morning, but she spied his truck in the parking lot now. This was as good a time as any to ask him if he’d heard back from Bud with any leads.
Bella quickened her pace then entered the inn and wandered the hall toward his office. She didn’t see him inside, so she made her way to the front desk. Not there either. She tried the kitchen and found him unboxing some sort of heavy-duty tool.
“Hey.”
He turned at her greeting. “Oh. Hey.” His eyes flitted back to the unboxing as he flung an egg crate and plastic wrapping onto the tabletop.
Huh. Definitely not the greeting she’d anticipated after last night. “Something wrong?”
Shaking his head, he pulled a black and yellow metal air compressor from the box. His muscles strained with the movement.
Maybe he was just busy. She’d come back with her question later. “OK. I’ll leave you to this, then.”
“Wait.” Ben faced her. His forehead wrinkled. “Sorry. I just saw my dad, and now I’m thinking about everything. Like how I’m going to financially swing saving the inn. So, I guess I just need to know. Can I? Or is it a lost cause?”
And here another golden opportunity had presented itself—to tell him his only option was to sell and get what she wanted.
But maybe what she wanted was changing.
Bella bit the inside of her cheek and decided. “Don’t give up just yet. I have a few ideas we can try.” She hadn’t yet fleshed out a full plan, but a handful of obvious ideas that wouldn’t take much time to formulate into an actionable business plan existed.
Ben’s shoulders lifted as he strode toward her. “Really?” A smile lit his face.
“Really.”
A laugh tumbled from his lips, loose and triumphant. “Thank you.” Then he wrapped her tightly in a hug. She swallowed hard as she listened to his heart beating in time with her own.
He pulled back and released her far too soon. “You have no idea what this means to me. I only wish I could do something equally as great for you.”
“Have . . . have you heard back from Bud yet?” A tremor overtook her chin, and she choked back the emotion in her voice. What if nothing ever came of the hopes that had barreled through her only five minutes ago?
“Aw man, I can’t believe I forgot. Bud pulled me aside as I was leaving the hardware store, but I was distracted.” He slipped his hand into his pocket then pulled out a torn piece of notebook paper. “Well, anyway, he gave me this.”
She snatched the paper from his outstretched hand and studied it. “It’s an address and phone number. Who’s Mary Robinson?”
“The former teacher Bud mentioned. I guess she wants to talk with us about a possible lead on your dad. She can meet on Monday afternoon.”
“Really?” Bella gripped the paper in her fingers, trying to identify the feeling welling up in her chest.
Hope.
For only the second time—the first being when Mom agreed to their arrangement—she held hope in her hands.
But . . . “What if it doesn’t lead to anything?” The paper fluttered onto the floor.
He picked it up, pressed it back into her hands. “Then we keep searching.”
We. She liked the sound of we.
Bella cleared her throat past the welling emotion. “Will you come with me?”
“Of course I will.”
For a moment, they stood there, eyes locked. Her mouth went dry. What would it be like to be worthy of that look of trust, of awe, of perhaps something even deeper in his eyes? To lean into him, into whatever was happening between them?
To kiss him?
Her fingers reached out to snag his T-shirt, tugging him closer. He came willingly and slid an arm around her waist. With the pad of his thumb he caressed her upper lip, tracing it from top to bottom.
Her breathing shallowed, but she didn’t
pull away.
Ben dipped his head, his mouth hovering over hers.
“Yo, Ben! You in the—oh.”
Bella jerked her head at the intrusion and Ben stepped back, letting go of her waist.
Evan leaned against the kitchen doorway, a grin plastered to his face. “Sorry to interrupt. Just came to help with the roof. We did have plans, didn’t we?” His eyebrows waggled. “Because if plans have changed, I can go.”
Yes, plans had most definitely changed. Bella gripped her forehead. “No, I’ll go.”
Ben glanced at her beneath his furrowed brow.
Before he could say anything, she forced a smile. “I have a business plan to draw up, after all. Hope you get a lot done on the roof today.” Then she turned on her heel and strode back to her room, lips still tingling as she walked.
Chapter 8
Mary’s house was four miles north of town, on a stretch of dirt road that led toward a handful of vineyards. Ben hadn’t been there before, but he was familiar with the area because his buddy Derek’s family lived out this way. His truck kicked up dust as they passed rolling green foothills, shrubs, and juniper trees. Wispy clouds decorated the brilliant blue of the sky.
He glanced over at Bella in the passenger seat. As she stared out her window, her right hand gripped her left upper arm, alternately squeezing and letting off the pressure. She’d been quiet almost the entire way here, leaving the silence to be filled by the country music artists serenading them from Ben’s stereo.
“It’ll be OK.” Keeping one hand firmly on the wheel and his eyes on the road, he reached out his right hand.
A few seconds later, she gripped it. “I hope so.”
He did too, especially because she’d been kind enough last night to sit down with him and discuss her thoughts about how he could get the inn back on track. In many ways, her ideas were simple. And yet, he hadn’t been doing them. They’d stayed up way too late outlining the best ways to implement her strategy, and later he’d dragged himself into bed and slept hard for the first time in months.
As they pulled into the driveway of Mary’s house, Ben shut off the ignition and squeezed Bella’s fingers. “Let’s find out the truth about your family.”
Her jaw clenched, but she nodded and pulled herself upright. A calm, cool professionalism transformed her expression, putting it in neutral. This must be how she looked at work before a big meeting. “All right. Let’s go.”
They climbed from the vehicle and walked toward the blue bungalow. While the small, tidy flower garden in front was full of purple and yellow blooms, the peeling paint covered most of the siding, and a crack in the loft dormer window highlighted the building’s age. A rusty red tricycle lay on its side next to the garden. As they walked toward the veranda steps, Ben also spotted some damage to the sloped roof.
As far as he knew, Mary Robinson didn’t have any family except her thirty-something daughter who had recently run off, leaving her young son in Mary’s care. If she’d let him, Ben would gather some guys to help fix up the old place when he was done repairing the inn.
Once they’d mounted the steps, Bella rang the doorbell and exhaled a steady stream of air. “I know you had to give up work time to be here, so thank you.”
“No worries. I made some good progress on the roof this weekend. Besides, this is where I want to be.” Not for the first time since they’d nearly kissed in the kitchen on Saturday, he contemplated leaning down and trying again. But something held him back. Besides, this moment was all about her, not them. He was just along for support.
The door squeaked open, and a pair of pale blue eyes stared back at them. “Hello.” A petite woman with curly gray hair peeked out. “Can I help you?”
“I’m Ben Baker, ma’am, and this is Bella Miranda.”
No recognition flickered on her face. She scrunched her nose. “Who?”
A flash of red zoomed through the door and between Bella and Ben, forcing them to drop their hands.
“Noah Robinson!” Mary opened the door wider. “You get back here this instant.”
Ben turned to find a young boy with a mop of blond curls running around the grassy front yard in a red cape.
“I’m Superman! I’m Superman!” Noah, who looked to be three or four, extended one arm in front of his body and emitted airplane noises as if he were flying.
Mary marched onto the porch. “Superman, come back here now, please.” Though her tone was pleasant enough, there was something weary in it.
When Noah ignored Mary’s command, Ben tilted his head. “Allow me, Mrs. Robinson.”
“Bless you.” She sank onto a porch chair.
Ben hauled himself down the steps. “Hey, Superman, want to fly for real?”
The boy halted in his tracks. “Yes!” He pumped his little fist in the air.
With a backward glance at Bella, who had taken the seat next to Mary, Ben scooped up Noah and ran all over the yard with him in both arms. Together they whooped and hollered before Ben delivered Noah to the porch. He knelt in front of the little man. “Now, I need you to execute an important mission. Do you think you can do that?”
With wide eyes, Noah nodded. Even with peanut butter smeared around his lips, the kid exuded cuteness.
“I need you to go to your room, grab your favorite book, and look at the pictures until your grandma tells you otherwise.”
“That’s not a mission.” Frowning, Noah slid a finger toward his nostril.
Ben caught the offending finger and lowered it—and his voice—as he leaned in. “Believe me. It is. And I’m counting on you.”
“Really? OK!” Noah flew up the steps and into the house, banging the front door behind him.
Trudging up the steps, Ben leaned against the porch railing and faced the two women. “What did I miss?”
Bella smiled, but there was something shaky in it. “I reminded Mary why we’re here.”
The older woman waved a hand in the air. “I remembered. It just . . . took me a minute.” She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “Thank you for your help with Noah. He’s a wonderful boy, just a bit high-spirited.”
“You’re his guardian now?”
Mary frowned at Ben’s question then nodded. “Julie should be back in a month or two. This isn’t the first time she’s run off to ‘find herself.’” She poofed up the roots of her hair and faced Bella again. “Now, then, back to you, my dear. You said your father was Daniel, but you don’t know his last name. And your mother Camille? What was her last name?”
Bella’s mouth flopped open then closed again. What had her so tongue tied? Maybe this was all overwhelming despite her attempt at a brave front.
“Miranda,” Ben volunteered.
Her brow furrowed, Mary pinched her bottom lip with twitching fingers. “I told Bud I remembered them, but that Camille had a different last name. Can’t think of it off the top of my head but maybe it’ll come to me later.”
Bella sat forward. “Do you remember Daniel’s last name?”
Mary scratched her jaw. “I just can’t seem to recall.”
“Do you remember anything about him? Was he from Walker Beach? Does he have any family left? What did he look like?”
“I . . .” Squeezing her eyes, Mary’s mouth trembled. The woman was clearly exhausted. A young boy was a lot of work for anyone, much less a seventy-year-old who lived alone outside town. “I’m sorry.”
Ben pushed away from the railing. “Maybe we should come back another day.”
Bella’s gaze shot to him, her lips in a frown. But after a moment of silent challenge, her shoulders sank. “I guess so. Mary, we didn’t mean to upset you.”
The woman’s eyes flickered open. “You didn’t upset me, my dear. I upset myself. Things are sometimes crystal clear. Other times . . . Well, it’s hard getting old.” She pushed out a forced laugh. “I will think about it some more and write anything down that comes to me. How’s that?”
“Sure. Of course.” Bella touched her
arm. “Is there anything we can help you with while we’re here?”
“Your young man helped plenty simply by getting my grandson into the house. Noah loves being outdoors, but I sometimes worry about how we live so close to the road.”
Ben stepped forward to help Mary stand then popped open the door. He pulled a business card from his wallet and handed it to her. “You call me if you need anything, all right? I’m not that far away, and I’m pretty good with a hammer.” He winked.
Chuckling, Mary turned and patted his cheek. “Thank you. I’ll be in touch.” She went inside and closed the door behind her.
Bella started down the steps toward the truck and climbed in before Ben could say anything. When he reached the vehicle, she swiped hard against her cheeks. Aw man, had she been crying? He longed to take her in his arms, but it would have been awkward pulling her across the center console. And maybe that’s not what she needed anyway. She could be the type who needed space when upset.
“What do you really know about her, Ben?” His dad’s voice flickered in his mind for a moment before Ben batted it away.
Starting the vehicle, Ben drove, on instinct pointing the truck north instead of the southern road that would take them home. Whether she said so or not, Bella had to be disappointed about the turn of events. Still, Mary had remembered something. She just needed to remember it again.
He should say something, encourage Bella. But every consolation he could think to offer stuck to the roof of his mouth.
Instead he sank his foot against the pedal and drove north. They passed the lighthouse that was about five miles out of town then kept on going. He may not know the best way to comfort her, but he’d try all the same.
Bella didn’t question their destination. In fact, she gazed out the window, lost in her thoughts, until at last, her attention redirected onto him. “You were really good with Noah.”
All of You, Always Page 8