Barefoot Season (21 page)

She would still have her father’s house. If she hadn’t married Allen, he wouldn’t have had the chance to steal from her.

“It’s done,” she said. “Would I do it differently now? I’m not sure.”

The woman bit her lower lip. “You finally left him?”

“Oh, no. He left me. He took everything.” No point in going into details, she thought. She’d shared enough humiliation for one morning.

“John will never leave me,” the woman said. “I know that. It’s not his way.”

Carly managed a smile. “Then you don’t have to worry about that.”

“I know. I guess I should be grateful for what I have and stop expecting him to be faithful.”

Carly didn’t think that should be the lesson learned, but wasn’t sure she should say that.

“Pauline tells me that before I can make any decisions, I have to learn to respect myself,” the woman admitted. “Like I know what that means.”

Carly hadn’t spent much time with Pauline, but her respect for the woman climbed a couple of notches. Self-respect was a hard one. Something she still wrestled with. Telling Robert they couldn’t use each other to hide anymore had gone a long way to getting her closer to achieving what she wanted.

The woman looked at her. “Is it hard? Being alone?”

“Sometimes.”

“Would you take him back?”

“No.”

“That’s the thing,” the other woman admitted. “I don’t want to lose him.”

“Then don’t.”

She smiled. “I guess you’re right. I’m not brave like you. I don’t want to do it all alone. What I have is better than nothing. Thanks for listening.”

She stood and walked back toward the inn.

Carly watched her go.

She’d never been overly successful in the relationship department but “better than nothing” didn’t seem like a goal that would make anyone happy.

* * *

Saturday Michelle walked through the garden. The afternoon had turned sunny and the temperatures were in the low sixties. Practically a heat wave, she thought, eyeing the flowers swaying in the gentle breeze.

Was it her or were the daisies even brighter than usual? The reds and yellows, the pinks, practically glowed against the dark brown of the earth and the green lawn. No doubt the guests found them beautiful, but something about the damn daisies got on her nerves. She wanted to kick them all into submission or, at the very least, rip them up by the roots.

Not that she would. Doing something like that would mean she would move from getting pressured to join a support group to being committed.

The back door to the inn opened and Gabby danced out. There was no other word to describe her happy movements as she turned and dipped and pranced barefoot across the patio, toward the lawn.

The girl held a thick book under one arm. Even from across the lawn, Michelle recognized the cover of a Harry Potter novel, although she couldn’t say which one.

Gabby spotted her and waved, then hurried across the grass toward her.

Michelle watched her, envying the easy movements and remembering when she’d been about that age. Life had been a whole lot less complicated.

“Guess what?” Gabby called as she approached. The girl raced toward her, skidding to a stop on the grass. “I’ve been out three times reading and I haven’t had food and the cranes aren’t bothering me.” She grinned. “They still come look, but then when they see I don’t have a snack, they go away. I talked to Leonard about it.” She wrinkled her nose. “He says they’ve somehow communicated I’m not a food source.”

She giggled. “I guess that’s like a bird grocery store. And then we talked about the cranes. Leonard knows a lot of interesting stuff, like how the birds have these lives with eggs and babies and he said I could go with him to see the chicks, only it’s on this small boat and I’m scared of the water, but I used to be scared of the cranes, so maybe I don’t have to be scared of the water.”

She paused and drew in a breath.

Michelle stared at the girl, remembering the fearful child she’d met less than a month ago.

She wanted to say they were just cranes and not being afraid of them wasn’t a big deal, but she was in no position to be critical of anyone’s issues. Besides, she envied the child’s ability to put aside terrors so quickly and easily. If only she could do the same.

Her gaze dropped to Gabby’s bare feet. Or be that innocent again.

“I’m glad you’re not scared of the cranes, and not being scared of the water is probably a good thing. We do live on an island.”

Carly had always been terrified of the water. As a kid, she’d refused to put even a toe into the Sound. No matter how hot the day, she wouldn’t go into a pool. Had Gabby learned that from her?

“Did you see it’s sunny?” Gabby asked.

“I did.”

“I like sunny days. And we’re planning our summer movies. We go every week in the summer.” She danced in place as she spoke.

She and Carly had gone to the movies weekly during summer, Michelle thought. They’d walked to the only movie theater in town and stood in line with the other kids. When the multiplex had been built, they’d thought it practically a theme park, it had been so thrilling. Ten choices at the same time.

She could see Carly in Gabby. The same shape and color of eyes, the smile. There were probably bits of Allen in her, too, but they seemed less important.

“The movies are great,” Gabby was saying, “Mom says I get lip gloss when I turn ten.”

“Good for you.”

Gabby nodded. “I want a phone, but Mom says no to that. Most of my friends don’t have phones, either.” She paused. “I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry about Nana Brenda. That she died while you were away. You must be sad about it.”

“Thank you,” Michelle said, surprised Gabby would mention her mother. “Do you miss her?”

Gabby hesitated. “Sometimes she made Mom cry and I didn’t like that. But she could be nice, too. We were friends, I think.”

Michelle felt a combination of compassion and rage. Even from the grave, her mother was doing damage.

She put her hand on Gabby’s small shoulder. “It’s okay to be confused. You love your mom and want to protect her. Just like she protects you. You can remember the good stuff about Nana Brenda, too. People are complicated.”

“I’m not supposed to talk about it,” Gabby admitted in a whisper. “Mom said.”

“I won’t tell.”

Gabby blessed her with a wide smile.

They headed back toward the inn, Gabby chatting about her friends and the summer camp she would attend. That she didn’t like the outdoor stuff, but the computer programming was fun. Once they were inside, Gabby scampered off to find Carly. Michelle moved toward the front desk and saw Ellen Snow walking into the lobby.

“Hi,” Ellen said with a smile when they’d spotted each other. “I’m running errands this morning and thought I’d stop by to see how things are going.”

Michelle wasn’t sure if this was a social call or more about business.

“We’re doing great. Full for the weekend.”

“I’m not surprised,” the tall blonde said. “You have such a beautiful place. I love it here. I always have my friends from Seattle stay here if they want a fun getaway.”

“I’ll take the business.”

They gravitated toward the sofas by the front window and took a seat across from each other. Ellen wore jeans and a light sweater over a tailored shirt. Her boots had three-inch heels. Michelle wasn’t sure how she could walk in them but she was willing to admit they looked good.

“I’ve been meaning to come by sooner,” Ellen admitted. “Time gets away from me. Maybe we can go to lunch or something.”

“Sure,” Michelle said, deciding it was better to be polite than admit the fact that she wasn’t much for “going to lunch.” She had work to do.

Ellen glanced around, then leaned forward. “Is everything all right with Carly?”

“Sure. Why?”

“I know the two of you don’t get along. Who could blame you?”

Michelle shifted in her seat. “You’re the one who insisted I work with her. That she stay on.”

“No,” Ellen said quickly, her gaze sympathetic. “It wasn’t me. Our loan committee said it was important. I tried to talk them out of it. I couldn’t make any headway and I didn’t want to get into Carly’s past, so we’re both stuck.”

Ellen crossed her legs and shrugged. “I know you’re the one who really runs this place. Carly’s great at smiling at the guests. As long as she doesn’t make it obvious she’s sleeping with them, I guess that works.”

Michelle nearly fell off the sofa. “Excuse me? Carly’s not sleeping with the guests.”

Ellen laughed. “Well, sure. Not all of them. But she keeps her hand in, so to speak.”

“I’ve been back a few weeks now and I can tell that Carly does a good job.”

Ellen sighed. “You’re amazingly loyal. I admire that. I would have cut her loose years ago. You remember what she was like in high school.” There was another laugh, this one a little sharper around the edges. “She practically came to school with rug burn on her back. Is there even one guy she didn’t sleep with?”

“That was a long time ago.”

“People don’t change.” Ellen’s expression sharpened. “Trust me on that. Carly is as she always was. My point is, I’m sorry you’re stuck with her. I’ll get that changed as soon as possible and then you’ll have the satisfaction of firing her.”

Michelle felt uncomfortable. Ellen was doing her best to bond and show she was on Michelle’s side, but nothing about this conversation felt right.

“We have an employment contract,” Michelle said, her voice quiet, her mind conflicted.

Ellen grinned. “And I have a lawyer. Don’t worry—we’re friends. I would never stick you with someone like that even a minute longer than necessary.” She rose. “I have forty million things to do this morning. I just wanted to stop by and say hi. Let me know if I can do anything to help.”

Michelle stood, nearly stumbling as pain jabbed her in the hip. Ellen gave a quick wave and walked out.

Michelle was left wondering what Carly had done to make the other woman dislike her so much and, oddly enough, trying to figure out how to make it all better.

Nineteen

C
arly grabbed an armful of linens and backed out of the storage room. She couldn’t see where she was going so when she bumped into something solid, she assumed she’d misjudged the path and had run into a wall. Then large, warm hands settled on her waist. Masculine hands.

The unexpected contact made her jump. She spun around to see who was touching her only to find Michelle’s friend grinning down at her from the hallway.

“You looked like you were in trouble,” he said, his blue eyes sparkling with humor, a slow, sexy smile curving his mouth. “It’s my sworn duty to help a lady in distress.”

She shoved the stack of linens at him. “Good to know. Want to carry these?”

“It’s what I live for. Where are we going with them?”

“The end of the hall.”

“I’m Sam,” he said as he fell into step with her.

“Carly.”

He was tall and lean, but with plenty of muscle. Good-looking enough to be interesting but not so handsome that a woman would have to worry he would want more bathroom-mirror time than her. What intrigued Carly the most, though, was his air of competence. He seemed like a man who knew how to take charge. After years of being on her own, that was pretty sexy to her.

They reached the supply room, where the housekeepers collected what they needed every day.

“You can put those on the counter,” she said.

He lowered the linens, then stepped back while she sorted them.

“You’re probably not sure what to ask next,” he told her. “Let me help. I’m a friend of Michelle’s and I’m in town for a job interview. I just got out of the army after serving twenty years, mostly as an MP. I call my momma every week, I prefer to hold doors open for women and believe on a first date the man should pay. So I guess that makes me old-fashioned.”

Carly separated the sheets from the pillowcases and stacked them neatly. She made sure there were enough towels, little soaps and lotions. Finally she turned to Sam.

He stood confidently, aware of what he offered. She knew the type—he liked women and they liked him back. Which should have reminded her of Allen. Except her ex had been more interested in what he could get and she’d heard rumors not every guy was like that.

Funny how she’d gone nearly ten years without so much as a sexual twitch and in the space of a couple of weeks she’d met two guys who appealed to her. She wanted to do a little “my girl parts aren’t dead” dance, but knew that would only be frightening for anyone watching.

“You think you’re charming,” she said.

“I’ve heard that a time or two.”

“Married?”

“Divorced.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and waited.

“Twice,” he added with a shrug. “Okay, so sometimes I’m not the fastest learner. Both were impulses. I’m taking things slower, now. Settling into a new town. Speaking of which, I’d love to see more of it. What with you being a native and all, maybe you could show me around.” The charming, seductive smile returned. “Just to be neighborly.”

His voice held a hint of the South, as if he’d either been born there or spent a lot of time there. She had a feeling he was interested in more than a tour of Blackberry Island.

She hadn’t been on a date since she’d first gone out with Allen. Her last sexual encounter had been when she was five months pregnant and had been with her husband. Since then there had been a long, barren desert when it came to men and sex.

Mango had reminded her of possibilities. Sam made her want to take a test drive. He made her aware of her body—especially the aforementioned girly parts. She wanted to shut the door, pull the fresh, clean towels onto the floor and invite him to a party. At the same time she knew there were a lot of reasons why she should resist. In the interest of not being stupid, she took a step back.

“What’s a man like you doing settling down in a place like this?” she asked. “How’d you even find us?”

“Michelle talked about the island a lot. It sounded nice. I came and checked it out and decided to stay.”

Michelle. Carly had nearly forgotten about her, about her reunion with Sam.

“You’re with Michelle,” Carly said, telling herself her job was more important than any man and having no trouble believing that. Unless she changed her form of employment, getting laid would not pay the bills. More important, she cared about Michelle.

“We’re old friends.” One eyebrow went up. “We’re not together, if that’s what you’re thinking. We were, a long time ago. It was hot and heavy for about fifteen minutes. I wouldn’t have asked you out if we were still involved. I’m not that guy.”

He held up both hands. “We’re just friends, I swear. You can ask her.”

“That would be a little awkward,” Carly murmured, wanting to believe him, but not completely convinced.

He dropped his hands to his side. “I’m one of the good guys. You can ask my mom.”

“I don’t know her.”

He pulled out his cell phone. “We could give her call.”

“I’d rather ask Michelle.”

“You do that. Once she confirms what I said, you’ll show me the town?”

“Sure.”

He grinned. “I look forward to it.”

Carly did, too, and she wasn’t sure if that was good or very, very bad.

* * *

Michelle started every day the same way. She got to the inn early, parked her truck, then went into the restaurant and had breakfast with Damaris. The cook always had a plate ready and there was lots of coffee. Great food, great conversation and caffeine. She doubted there was any way to improve the morning.

Today, she paused in the dining room and looked around. Every table was full, she thought happily, practically hearing the sound of money falling into the register. Conversation competed with the clink of flatware and soft music playing in the background.

While it was currently cloudy, the weather guy swore the sun would be out later. More important, he’d promised a rain-free Memorial Day weekend.

Michelle wanted to believe him, but she’d grown up here. Rain loved to attend all the big summer weekends. Still, the thought of a full inn over a sunny weekend was enough to make her giddy.

She crossed toward the kitchen, smiling at customers as she went. Back when she’d been in high school there had only been twelve tables, she thought absently. Now there were at least double that. She reached the door for the kitchen, then turned and did a quick count.

More than double. There were thirty-two tables. Assuming at least half of them turned over, that was forty-eight checks for the morning. And it was only going to get busier over the weekend.

“Don’t talk to me,” Damaris said as she entered the kitchen. “What? Are we giving away breakfast? I’m getting too many orders.”

Michelle laughed. “Don’t forget, that’s a good thing.”

“For you. For me, it’s more work.” But the cook was grinning as she spoke. “You’ll have to get your own breakfast this morning.”

“I don’t mind.”

Michelle poured herself a mug of coffee, then used the tongs to grab a piece of bacon.

“We’re booked through the weekend,” she said. “Every room is full.”

“I know.” Damaris expertly flipped pancakes before adding a scoop of cheese and avocado to an omelet. “Carly was by yesterday to tell me. As if I couldn’t figure out we’d be busy on a holiday weekend by myself.”

She slid food onto plates, then yelled, “Order up,” before glancing back at Michelle.

“She wanted to make sure I had enough supplies, that I’d remembered to order extra. What? Because the past twenty-five years of cooking don’t count? Because I forget?”

“That’s my fault,” Michelle said, compelled to defend Carly. “I asked her to double-check everything in the inn.”

“You’re good to take her side,” Damaris said. “But she doesn’t deserve it. Do you know she talked to me about doing a brunch on Sundays. A brunch! She said it would be special and we’d take reservations. Can you imagine?”

“It’s not a bad idea.”

Damaris rolled her eyes. “You’re the boss, not her. Why do you let her do these things?”

“She’s doing her job. Damaris, you have to be okay with that.”

Damaris grumbled something under her breath, then said, “Fine, but I don’t have to like it.”

Michelle popped bread into the toaster and remembered Ellen’s visit. Ellen hated Carly, Damaris obviously wasn’t a fan, but the staff loved her. So who was right?

* * *

“It won’t kill you,” Carly said, physically pushing Michelle toward the open door, wishing she had the strength to cause actual movement.

“It might.”

“You’re such a baby. It’s a meeting of the Blackberry Island Women of Business. You’re a woman with a business.”

“Who lives on Blackberry Island,” Michelle grumbled. “I get the connection. But I don’t want to go.”

“I’m not taking no for an answer.”

“You’re so bossy. It’s not attractive. In case you wondered.”

Carly sighed. “Gabby is more mature than you and she’s nine.”

“Almost ten. She’s very excited about the lip gloss, by the way. She told me.”

Carly stopped pushing and drew in a breath. “Did I thank you for helping her get over her fear of the cranes?”

Michelle faced her. “It’s no big deal.”

“It is to her and to me.”

Michelle sighed. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“You still have trouble accepting a compliment, so don’t blame this moment on the PTSD.”

“What happened to respecting the condition?”

“I do. It’s you I have trouble respecting.”

Michelle responded with a groan. “Damned employment agreement. I should so fire your ass.”

“You’d be lost without me.”

“Maybe.” She turned toward the women gathered in the inn’s conference room. “Tell me again why we’re here.”

Carly laughed, then shoved her inside.

Every month the Blackberry Island Women of Business got together to talk about everything from potential opportunities to grow to problems any of them were having. Carly had joined about five years ago and had found the group both helpful and supportive. She provided the meeting place each month, and Yvette, who owned the Seaswept Bakery, brought goodies.