by Phoebe Mills
But even as she was looking forward to an evening with her girlfriends, her thoughts kept drifting back to Carter.
Since the night he’d shared about his father, they’d been spending even more time together, and she couldn’t say she minded in the least. Usually, he stayed the night at her house, slipping out in the early morning hours before her grandmother had awoken. They’d both agreed it was better that way—the fewer questions to answer and noses in their business the better. A couple of times, she’d gone over to Becca’s place to help Carter watch Sofia if Becca was working a late shift or had errands to run. On those evenings, Becca would insist on Abby staying over—for her “convenience,” obviously—but the smirk on Becca’s face always spoke of something much more scandalous than mere accommodation.
When Abby and Carter had been teenagers, she’d known what they had was special. But back then, she’d been naive and inexperienced—both in love and in life. Now she was old enough to realize what they had together was unique. It was all-consuming and raw, an ocean current pulling her under. And even though she could swim, she wasn’t sure she wanted to.
But she knew what she had with Carter, however perfect it was, was temporary. Just a pit stop on the road trip to her final destination of lasting love like she craved.
And, well, if that thought left a pit in her stomach and made her ache even more with a yearning that was all too familiar, so be it.
Once she was satisfied with the presentation of the charcuterie board, she glanced at the clock on the stove. She still had about fifteen minutes before the girls arrived, so instead of continuing to obsess about Carter, she settled in at the table in the breakfast nook, intent on using this time to put a dent in her email dungeon.
She opened the email tab on her phone and started clicking away. Spam. Spam. Junk mail, junk mail, junk mail. She could probably save herself fifty emails a day if she’d just unsubscribe from these incessant emailers, but who knew when she’d need a 20 percent off coupon for Old Navy?
On autopilot, she clicked the check marks next to each message bound for the trash bin, and then froze when the name of a sender caught her eye, the subject line making her pause. Her heart leaped into her throat.
New requirements for preschool licensing and approval
Ignoring the sudden pit in her stomach, she opened the email and held her breath as she started to read.
Dear Ms. Engel,
I’m writing to inform you of a new mandate that’s been put in place by the state. Effective August 1, all preschools are now required to become accredited in order to be recognized by the Oregon Board of Education and to be approved for a preschool designation. Our hope is that by providing you the information now, there will be ample time to make any adjustments needed in order to be approved to accept students for the upcoming school year.
We apologize for any inconvenience this may cause. Please feel free to reach out with any questions.
Sincerely,
Mary Graves
The lump in Abby’s throat only grew, her eyes automatically welling with tears. Ample time? In what world was there ample time to get this completed? It was already April, and in order to meet the various requirement deadlines for location inspections and staff training, she’d set a renovation completion date of June 30. Even that was pushing it a little too close to the beginning of the school year for her comfort. It only gave her two weeks of cushion based on the state’s forty-five-day turnaround time.
Now, not only did she have to do everything she’d planned to in order to open in the first place, but she also had to go through the rigorous process of accreditation on top of it. If she hadn’t had a home to renovate in order to make the space workable for a preschool, this wouldn’t have been the end of the world. But as it stood now? She did a quick calculation, recalling what she could of the accreditation requirements and timing, and realized she’d need to have the renovations done by the first of May in order to move forward.
That meant she had weeks.
With the amount of work still needed, she couldn’t see how she could shave off any time on the projects, especially without a full-time contractor completing the work. She was already on borrowed time with Carter. She wasn’t sure when exactly he planned to leave, but she knew it was soon. It had to be. The six weeks were well up. Hell, the eight weeks he’d mentioned as cushion time depending on Becca’s needs were up, too.
Hadn’t Abby just been thinking how her life felt like a dream? Like everything was finally clicking into place? And now this. That dream dissolved and faded around her, turning to ash at her feet.
She blanched at the idea of having to tell the long list of parents that she’d no longer be able to offer preschool programming for their children. What would they do? This was a choice parents made months in advance—sometimes a year or more.
And the fundraiser. God. They’d raised all that money for her and the preschool, and now it’d probably be another year before she had anything to show for it.
The back door opened, and Abby started, jerking her head up from her phone to find Gia and Savannah strolling in, their arms laden with food. They laughed at something as they strode inside, the trio long since past knocking at any of their houses. Abby turned away and surreptitiously swiped at her eyes, hoping they weren’t red-rimmed and blotchy.
“I should never be allowed in the grocery store when I’m hungry,” Savannah said without prelude, placing two overflowing bags on the countertop. She reached in and quickly pulled out an array of desserts—brownies, cookies, ice cream…that lemon layer cake that Abby would nearly sell her soul for. Thank God for that, because if there was anything that could cheer her up, it was definitely dessert.
She stood from the table and walked over to help, grabbing a few of the containers from Gia as she juggled them.
“Thanks,” she said, smiling at Abby. Then in response to Savannah, said, “That’s how I feel all the freakin’ time.”
“I think that’s how we all feel.” Abby placed the salsa, guac, and chips Gia had brought on the round table in the breakfast nook, smiling as her friend arranged them how she wanted them before removing the lids.
“Maybe so, but are either of you banned from going? I’m not allowed at the grocery store anymore. Marco’s taken over that duty, because if I go, I end up with half of aisle six in my cart and absolutely no fruits or vegetables. And, apparently, babies need nutrients.”
Abby didn’t know what it said about her that she knew exactly what aisle six was and exactly what it contained. It was the snack aisle in their tiny grocery store, the chips spreading along one side and cookies of all types on the other. “I think you can do some of aisle six as long as you throw in an apple or two.”
“That baby’s going to be just fine—contents of aisle six and all,” Hilde said as she strolled down the back staircase. “But I’m happy to help you girls with this spread if you’re worried about it too much.”
Abby rolled her eyes at her grandma’s shamelessness in crashing their girls’ night. “I don’t think any of us are worried about it, but we can probably share.”
Hilde sniffed. “Well, if you insist.”
All three girls laughed as Abby carried the charcuterie board over to the table and set it next to Gia’s contributions. She turned back toward Savannah and eyed the spread of treats. “Should I grab something to put those in?”
Savannah snorted and shook her head, her arms already full as she strode to the table and unloaded everything on the surface without an ounce of grace. “We’re about to plow through these. I don’t think we need something as formal as servingware.”
With a laugh, Abby joined her two best friends and her grandma at the table, realizing just how much she’d needed this. She’d been spending so much time on the renovation that it hadn’t left room for much else. Not only had she let her friendships suffer, but also the push she’d done for the renovations was going to be all for nothing. It’d be at least a year
now until she was up and running…until she was bringing in revenue to help fund the renovation costs the fundraiser hadn’t touched. Funds she’d pulled from her savings account. Still, she couldn’t regret the time she’d spent on it, because it had been time spent in Carter’s company. And she knew all too well just how tenuous that was.
“I wish there was a charcuterie battle on the Food Network, because I have no doubt you’d win,” Gia said as she popped a cube of cheese into her mouth. “Look at this! I don’t even want to eat it, it’s so pretty. I mean…I don’t want to, but I’m definitely going to.”
“She’s not wrong.” Savannah loaded up her plate before Gia playfully slapped her hand away.
“Hey, save a little for the starving pregnant lady over here, feeding herself and the elephant inside her.”
Abby snorted, grateful she hadn’t yet taken a sip of the wine her grandma had poured them. She stared at Gia as her friend laughed good-naturedly while Savannah teased her, the pregnancy glow definitely not a myth, her bronze skin luminescent.
“Do you think you can do one of these for my birthday party?” Hilde asked, popping a crostini topped with goat cheese and honey in her mouth.
Abby shrugged as she dipped a chip in Gia’s unparalleled guacamole. “I can ask Ben. I’m sure he’ll be okay with it, but we’ll probably need to have the rest catered there since he’s letting us use the space for free.”
Hilde waved her hand, unconcerned. “We definitely need to. We’ll need something heftier than finger food, especially if they’re going to be serving the umbrella drinks. Ben said if Mable danced on the tables again, he’d have to kick us out. I don’t want to be booted from a bar on my seventieth birthday.” She paused, tilting her head as if to consider it, then shrugged. “Eh…Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.”
“You’re my role model, Hilde. I hope you know that,” Savannah said with sincerity and adoration. “Except I feel like I’d be the Mabel of the group. I think we all know these two wouldn’t be caught dead doing that.”
Abby and Gia shared a look of solidarity. Savannah wasn’t wrong. The two of them would be the ones wrangling a drunk Savannah from the rafters.
“You’re definitely the wild one of the group,” Abby said. “Speaking of, I don’t think I ever asked if you went out midnight surfing with your brothers the night of the fundraiser.”
“Ugh, yes.”
Abby laughed, raising an eyebrow at Gia across the table, who merely shrugged in response. Good, at least it wasn’t just Abby who wasn’t aware of what’d happened. “Why the ugh? Didn’t you have fun?”
Savannah huffed, swallowing down her bite before taking a sip of wine. “I did, but I would’ve had a lot more fun if Noah hadn’t gone. I don’t even know why he was there—besides to irritate the hell out of me, of course.”
“I don’t know…” Abby lifted a shoulder. “I thought it was nice of Caleb to ask him to go to the fundraiser in his place.”
“Oh, please. He just did it to schmooze my parents and piss me off. It wasn’t like you thought my brother could come up from San Francisco for a single night anyway. Besides, my other three doofuses were there. I’m certain you didn’t need a fourth.”
Abby met Gia’s eyes over the rim of her wineglass and could hardly contain her smirk when she saw her friend’s matching one. They’d both agreed Savannah’s distaste of her brother’s best friend was a classic case of doth protest too much. Although there was no denying the animosity evident between them—on both sides—there was also no denying just how volatile of an emotion hate could be, and how much Savannah stoked those fires, whether intentionally or not.
“He went out with you guys?” Gia asked.
“Yep, for the sole purpose of getting on my nerves and constantly reminding me why I shouldn’t be out there. Honestly, if I had a dime for every time that man was condescending or judgmental toward me, I could fly—on my private jet—to Bali every weekend.”
“Sounds to me like he’s a good one for you to ignore, my dear,” Hilde said, patting Savannah’s hand. “Perhaps he’s picking because he likes whatever attention he receives from you when he does. So I say stop giving it to him. A flame only grows bigger if you stoke the fire.”
Savannah huffed out a disbelieving laugh and shook her head. “There’s definitely none of that going on, but you’re probably right. He just irritates me so damn much, it’s hard to ignore.”
“Well, you’re probably going to want to get a jump start on that, because I can almost guarantee he’ll be at my birthday party, what with him being Mabel’s grandson and all. She’s been trying to set him up with a nice woman ever since his ex-wife abandoned him and Rosie.” Hilde shook her head and made a gruff sound of distaste. “Poor little girl…”
Savannah opened her mouth to say something, and from the look on her face, Abby knew it was going to be something to spotlight one of Noah’s negative attributes and no doubt the cause for his ex-wife’s departure.
Before Savannah could say a word, Abby said, “Speaking of your party, do you have a guest list for me? I need to get invitations out this week.”
“A guest list?” Hilde’s tinkling laugh filled up the room, completely infectious. “Honey, this is going to be a free-for-all. If all of Heart’s Hope Bay shows up, it still won’t be enough.”
Abby smiled, having already known taking on this party was going to be another full-time job. But now, with the preschool accreditation—not to mention Carter’s inevitable departure—looming, the distraction couldn’t have come at a better time.
Chapter Nineteen
Carter was knee-deep in the adjustments for the Redmond project. Today he’d managed to subsist solely on coffee and leftover pizza straight out of the fridge, too distracted to even take two minutes to warm it up. His attention was laser focused, his to-do list a mile long, so when his phone rang, he barely managed to peel himself away from the task at hand to check it. Distractedly, he spared the screen a glance, and then did a double take at the name illuminated there.
He fumbled with his phone and swiped to answer before it clicked over to voice mail. “Mr. Franken, hi. How’re you doing?”
“Mr. Hayes,” Stuart Franken boomed on the other end of the line, the command in his voice unwavering even through the phone. “Rumor has it you’re not in Vegas right now.”
Carter didn’t even try to guess at how the man knew that. Franken was a heavy hitter in Vegas and had more connections than Carter could even dream of, which was exactly why he’d been on Carter’s short list for maiden projects with his own firm. “You heard right. I had a small family emergency that brought me back to my hometown in Oregon.”
“I see,” he said, thinly veiled disdain present in his tone. “And when do you think this ‘family emergency’ won’t keep you out of Vegas any longer?”
It was clear from the way Franken asked the question that neither family nor emergencies dared to distract him from his work, and he expected the same from those who worked with him. That should’ve bothered Carter, but all he could focus on was that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d thought about leaving even in passing. It was a question that should have been at the forefront of his mind, but something he’d let slip into his subconscious at some point while he’d been back.
With startling clarity, Carter realized Becca hadn’t used her crutches in more than a week. Though she was still a little clumsy getting around with her boot, she could get around. And because of that, she no longer needed him there to help her with the day-to-day things that were too challenging to complete while using crutches.
He swallowed down his irritation—both at his sister for not mentioning her improving circumstances and at himself for not seeking out answers in the first place—and cleared his throat. “Very soon. I’m thinking I should be back in Vegas by late next week.”
Even saying the words had bile rising in his throat. Where once he would have been thrilled to go back to Vegas, a boulder now sat in his
stomach over the thought of leaving Heart’s Hope Bay. In the two months he’d been back in his hometown, he’d managed to slip seamlessly once again into small-town life. A life where he got to see his sister and niece every day. Where he didn’t have to be surprised at how much Sofia had grown between their infrequent visits. Where he could help Becca with the inconsequential but difficult-to-deal-with situations that frequently arose for a single mom.
And then there was Abby, his—at one time—once-in-a-lifetime. Maybe still his once-in-a-lifetime.
“That’s good to hear,” Franken boomed. “Because I’m just about ready to move forward with that project we talked about last year. You’re at the top of my list for this one. I recall when we last spoke that you were looking to branch out on your own…”
The unspoken words at the end of Franken’s sentence were enough to jolt some sense into Carter. This project of Franken’s was exactly the size and scale that could put a firm on the map. One that could put Carter’s firm on the map.
This was an unheard of chance for a brand-new firm, an opportunity that didn’t come around every day. And it had practically fallen in his lap. No, that wasn’t true. In the years he’d been in Nevada, he’d put blood, sweat, and tears into cultivating relationships with the Vegas elite. He’d made a name for himself in the area with the jobs he’d completed, making sure the heavy hitters knew what kind of worker he was, how dedicated and creative and innovative he was. How indispensable he was.
Regardless of how the opportunity came to him, it had come. He’d be a fool to dismiss it, even if it meant he’d have to stamp a final date on his time in Heart’s Hope Bay.
Ignoring the knot in his stomach, he said, “You recall correctly. Why don’t we schedule a meeting when I’m back in town to discuss this further?”
“That’s what I like to hear,” Franken said, his smile coming through across the line.