Barefoot Season (26 page)

She flung stems and leaves and dirt over her shoulder. Her hip ached from her crouching position, but she didn’t care. She dug and destroyed until they were all lying on the grass—dismembered flowers, like dying soldiers on a battlefield. And then she started to cry.

Twenty-Three

C
arly woke up early. Her head hurt. She wanted to blame the wine, but she hadn’t had enough to get really drunk, which was usually the first step in having a hangover. No, this pain came from a deeper source. From what had happened in her past and how she was unable to fully heal from old wounds.

She’d tossed and turned most of the night, unable to sleep. Her good mood and lingering pleasure from her encounter with Sam had been burned away by ugly reality and worse memories. She shouldn’t have gotten into a conversation about the past with Michelle and, worse, blamed her for their parents leaving. She shouldn’t have broken the beginnings of the relationship they were forging. To what end? To be right?

Carly sat up and brushed her hands against her face, wishing she could wipe away the memories as easily.

“Mom, Mom!”

Gabby raced into her room and flew into her bed. Carly pulled her into a hug.

“Morning,” she said, wondering how many ibuprofen it would take to make her headache go away.

“How did you sleep?” Gabby asked, still warm from her bed. Her pj’s had kittens on them, her feet were bare. “I slept good and it’s sunny outside. Did you see? A sunny day.”

Carly glanced toward the window. Light spilled in through the curtains. “I’m glad it’s going to be nice today.”

“I know. After school I’m going to help Leonard count baby chicks. We have to be careful because they’re young and small.”

Gabby bounced on the bed, her usual bundle of morning energy. Carly did her best not to wince as someone set up a jackhammer just behind her eyes and went to work.

Gabby scrambled off the bed. “Breakfast, breakfast.” Her loud, singsong voice was torture.

“I’ll be right there,” Carly promised, doing her best to keep from wincing.

Gabby raced to the doorway, then turned back. “Mom, are you sick?”

So much for faking it. “I have a headache.”

“Oh.” Gabby dropped her voice to a whisper. “I’ll be quiet.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that.”

Carly made her way to the kitchen. She turned on the coffee, then poured cereal into a bowl, followed by milk. Gabby put bread in the toaster and Carly collected fruit.

The familiar ritual soothed her. Sure, her past had sucked, but now she had Gabby. Her daughter was worth any price. Hardly a unique emotion. Isn’t it what every parent felt about his or her child? Yet not all of them acted like it. Michelle’s father had adored his daughter, telling anyone who would listen how important she was to him. Then he’d left her. Carly’s mother had walked out without a word of warning. It had been three years before Carly had heard from her. Even now they only spoke a couple of times a year and exchanged cards at Christmas. Nothing more. Lana had only met her granddaughter once.

Complications, Carly thought, taking her coffee to the window. Life was nothing but complications. She pulled back the curtain and nearly dropped her mug.

From her kitchen she could see the east side of the rear yard, along with part of the garden. Instead of rows and rows of colorful daisies, there was only mounded dirt and the remnants of the plants she’d lovingly cared for.

Still in a long T-shirt and bare feet, she walked to the back door and opened it.

“Mom, where are you going?” Gabby asked.

“Stay inside,” Carly called, walking toward the destruction.

She reached the corner of the inn and the whole backyard lay before her.

Every daisy was gone, uprooted, ripped apart and left to die. Their stems and leaves and flowers covered the lawn, a carpet of green and white and red and yellow. The planters were empty, a few broken stalks standing tall. As if they didn’t realize what had occurred.

She knew what had happened, knew who had done it. Michelle had wanted to hurt her and she’d done a hell of a job. Knowing she had to get back to her daughter, to keep Gabby from seeing all this, she turned around. It was only when she stumbled that she realized she was crying.

* * *

Michelle parked in the bank parking lot. She wasn’t feeling chatty this morning, especially after a long, hard night. She’d barely been able to drag her butt out of bed. Only the thought that she was going to pay off half the overdue part of the mortgage got her going. That and three cups of coffee.

Every time she thought about what had happened the previous night, she felt sick inside. Shame had a bitter taste and sat heavily in her stomach. Bad enough to act like a jerk. Worse to do it in such a way that the whole world could see.

There would be questions. A garden full of destroyed daisies wasn’t going to go unnoticed. What would everyone think? No, not everyone, she thought. What would Damaris think? And Gabby? She already knew that Carly would get the message. Destruction of something she cared about. No psychology degree was needed to interpret that.

She collected the envelope with the checks and climbed out of her truck. Her hip hurt more today than it had in a while. Guilt, she thought. Or the time she’d spent kneeling on the grass, pulling out daisies.

She made her way into the bank and walked toward Ellen’s office. The other woman was seated at her desk and looked up when Michelle entered.

“Good morning,” Ellen said with a smile. “How are you? Did you have a great long weekend? I saw all the cars in the inn’s parking lot. Good for you.”

“Everything went well.” She took the seat Ellen indicated, happy to get the weight off her hip. She put the envelopes on the desk and pushed them forward. “Here you go. June’s payments and half of everything previously owed.”

Ellen raised her eyebrows. “Impressive.” She opened the envelope and pulled out the checks. “I’ll get you receipts for these.”

“Don’t take this wrong, but I’ll be happy to get the bank off my back.”

“What do you mean?”

“All those rules. Once I’m current, they won’t apply.”

Ellen shook her head. “I’m afraid that’s not true. The other terms and conditions will apply for the next two years.” The smile returned. “Didn’t I explain that? It was in the paperwork you signed when the loan originated. Oh, wait. Your mom signed that for you, didn’t she?”

Michelle wanted to throw something—preferably Ellen—across the room. She was going to be stuck with the bank on her back for a couple of years? Even if she paid everything overdue?

“I’m sorry. I should have been more clear the last time we spoke. I thought you knew.” Ellen sighed. “It’s frustrating. There are so many new rules and regulations. The government makes everything so complicated.” She leaned forward, her expression concerned. “Is it Carly? Are you having a tough time working with her? I say ‘work,’ but we both know it’s not like she does any.”

“Actually she does. We’re cutting expenses and she’s taking on more responsibilities. She’s cleaning rooms a few afternoons a week, just to help out.”

Ellen laughed. “I would pay money to see that.”

“Why don’t you like her?”

“We both know what she is. Carly is one of those women going through life taking what she wants and everyone who gets in her way be damned. You remember what she was like with Allen. She practically held a parade to show off the ring.”

Michelle did remember, but she was surprised that would have appeared on Ellen’s radar. “I hadn’t realized you knew her that well.”

“Carly’s tough to avoid. But enough about her. Let’s talk about more pleasant things. Like how great you’re doing at the inn. I’m thrilled. We had a board meeting just last week and I updated everyone on your status. That you’re back and taking control.” She picked up the cashier’s checks and waved them. “So much for the big, bad bank winning.”

“I appreciate you being on my side,” Michelle said, even as she wondered if Ellen really was.

“Absolutely. My customers come first. And we have a past. Now that you’re back, I hope we can be friends again.”

Michelle didn’t remember them being friends before. “Um, sure.”

“Great. We can go to lunch. Maybe next week?”

Michelle nodded and made her escape. As she drove back to the inn, she decided the first thing she was going to do was find the paperwork for the mortgages and read them. She didn’t want any more surprises when it came to her business.

As for Ellen, she still wasn’t sure if the other woman really was a friend or if there was something else going on. Too bad there wasn’t a contract that could explain the fine print in that relationship.

As for the rest of it…apologizing to Carly seemed impossible. But she was going to have to do something. And soon.

* * *

“Do you think it was teenagers?” Leonard asked as he loaded destroyed plants into the trash can.

“I don’t know.” Carly wasn’t sure why she lied. Protecting Michelle was stupid. But she couldn’t seem to bring herself to tell anyone the truth.

“They got them all, but only here in the back. I don’t get it.”

Carly supposed Michelle had run out of anger, or maybe her hip had hurt too much for her to rip out everything in front. Or it could just be that while she wanted to send a message to Carly, she wasn’t willing to upset any guests arriving.

She scooped up another armful of the dead flowers and carried them to the can.

So much hard work for nothing, she thought, remembering the hours she’d spent looking at nurseries online, finding the exact daisies she wanted and ordering them. The garden had been a part of what she loved about her job. The flowers had brightened her mood every single day, providing color and pleasure. Now there was nothing but raw dirt and a sense that Michelle had attacked her personally.

“You okay?” Leonard asked, pushing up his glasses.

“I’m sad this happened.”

“I can help you plant some more. It won’t be the same, but maybe it will still be pretty.”

She forced herself to smile. “That’s sweet. Thank you. I don’t know when I’ll get to replacing these, but when that happens, I’ll let you know.”

“What did Gabby say when she saw what had happened?”

“She didn’t.” Carly had gotten her off to school out the front of the inn. When her daughter got home, she would need some kind of an explanation, but had no idea what it should be.

“Whoever did this was seriously pissed. Or drunk.” Leonard glanced around. “Or both.”

Michelle hadn’t been that drunk, Carly thought. But she was always angry. Carly knew she was the most obvious target, although given their past, shouldn’t she be the one with the temper?

“You okay?” Leonard asked.

“I will be. I have a busy day and that helps.”

He stood there, looking awkward, as if he wanted to say more or do more. Carly patted his arm.