Runaway Tide

by Julie Carobini

  * * *

  Sleeping Beauty … except for the drool. Jackson had not thought of the fairytale in years—or ever—but for some reason this moment brought the story to mind. Meg snored softly on the couch, still wearing the clothes he had seen her in at work the day before.

  He glanced up at Deena, who stood in the darkened room in a robe that looked like an old housecoat that his grandmother liked to wear. She looked as groggy as Meg. “She going to be okay?” he whispered.

  “Maybe I shouldn’t have slipped her that muscle relaxer.”

  He felt the stretch of his forehead as his brows rose. “She was in a lot of pain, I take it?”

  “Oh, she was, but she wouldn’t admit it. So when she asked for a pain pill I gave her something stronger.”

  He bit his lip and nodded. No doubt this would not go over well with Meg when she found out. She might not be too crazy about finding him hovering over her either. A glimpse of purple caught his eye. Meg’s black suitcase stood in the corner, a purple ribbon tied around the handle. Probably her bag still packed for the trip she was supposed to take to Florida.

  He sighed, regret expanding within him, and stood. “Guess I’ll leave her here to sleep it off,” he said.

  Her mother nodded. “I think that would be best.”

  “What are you two talking about?”

  Jackson jerked a look toward the couch. Meg’s saucer-sized eyes peered back at him. He squatted down. “I tried calling you several times, and when you didn’t answer, I decided to drive over.”

  She wrinkled her brow, never taking her eyes off of him. “I don’t understand,” she said, her voice thick. “You came to drag me to work?”

  “No, no … not at all. I was … I was …”

  “He was worried about you, Meghan. You never sleep this late.”

  Meg slid a look at her mother, then back at Jackson. She rubbed her temple. “What time is it?”

  Jackson held his phone out for her to see. “10:30.”

  She sat up with a start, tossing aside the woolen throw. “What? How can that be? Oh, oh ...” Meg’s hand found her mouth. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  Her mother took off for the kitchen and returned with a paper bag. She thrust it into Jackson’s hands. “Here.”

  He put it on the floor in front of Meg and rubbed her back. “You’ll be okay.”

  Meg sat quietly for a few minutes, her hand moving from her mouth to her stomach. “I think it may have passed.” Her face knotted with confusion. “I-I don’t understand what happened, but it looks like I may have fallen asleep here.”

  Jackson gave Deena a pointed look.

  Deena huffed a sigh. “Oh, all right. Meghan, I gave you one of my muscle relaxers last night and I think it made you fall asleep.”

  “Mother!”

  Deena chuckled. “You must have needed it, is all I can say. I think I’ll just wander back to bed for a while—my daughter’s not the only one who appreciates sleeping in.”

  Meg shook her head as her mother hightailed it out of the living room. “I can’t believe this … I can’t believe it’s so late.” She flipped her legs off the couch, her cast thudding onto the floor. She flashed a look at Jackson. “What are you doing here anyway?”

  There’s my angry sales director ... “I had left a couple of messages for you and when you didn’t pick up …”

  “You decided to drive over here and stare at me until I woke up?”

  It sounded ludicrous to him too. What had he expected to accomplish by driving over here? What if she had wanted a day off? She was entitled to that—though protocol would have called for her to let someone at the inn know she would not be coming in. He swallowed, thinking. “Not exactly. I have set up a meeting with Maritime Tour & Travel and they specifically requested that you attend.”

  She let out a sigh and closed her eyes. “Well, of course they did. I’ve been after them for months to include us on their weekly tour stops.” She opened her eyes again and stared at him. “I had to eat a lot of rubberized chicken at the chamber meetings to get them to notice Sea Glass Inn.”

  He smiled, hoping her attempt at humor meant he was forgiven.

  “So, what time is the meeting?”

  “One o’clock.”

  She nodded once, then slowly stood. “I’ll be ready in twenty minutes, if you want to wait.”

  “I’ll be here.” Jackson sat in the silence. He hated that he had been the one to wake her—at least, in this way. But when she didn’t answer her phone this morning, well, his imagination got to him. A twist in his gut had caused him to wonder just how serious she had been about those offers. The more he had thought about her running off to work for the competition, the more he questioned his sense. Especially with his sister being such a wild card in the whole operation. If Sea Glass Inn and her sister properties were to grow into the world-class operations he dreamed they would be, he would need someone on his side that shared that vision. Besides, Meg knew more about the operational side of running events at the hotel the way his father had directed—not that Jackson would ever admit this publicly.

  A text lit up his phone and he swiped it away with his thumb. Who was he kidding? It took a lot more than the threat of losing Meg to the competition to cause him to violate all kinds of human resources laws to drive over here and stand over a sleeping employee. Jackson ran a hand through his hair and bit back an expletive. Old feelings had surfaced the moment his mouth had found hers out on that beach, and he feared that he had been making one mistake after another ever since.

  * * *

  If she had to keep her eyes open another five minutes, Meg feared she would die on the spot, or possibly pass out. Marcie from the tour company sat next to her in one of the chairs across from Jackson who sat at his desk listening intently.

  “I want to make sure that my guests are offered foods and experiences that they cannot find anywhere else,” Marcie was saying. “Otherwise, there really is no reason to make a change to our current schedule.”

  Jackson gave Meg an imploring look. He had already offered her a customized menu that included local organic fare and two vegetarian options. He had also suggested a wine or craft beer tasting especially for the tour guests.

  “How about some outside options for your guests, Marcie? Now that the foods and beverage events have been settled, I suggest we offer your tour and travel clients a sea glass hunting expedition—our staff knows some of the best and most secretive collection sites.”

  “Oh, I love that idea!”

  “There is also an estuary a short distance from here where they can view rare birds in their natural habitat.”

  She clapped her hands together. “A choice! We can give them a choice … between those two excursions. I love it!”

  Jackson winked at Meg when Marcie wasn’t looking. He leaned forward then, all business. “And, of course, our valets are available to provide rides to those who would like to golf.”

  Marcie nodded. “Yes, yes, that’s always popular with our clientele, but I do have to say, you have provided some wonderful alternatives to the standard golf fare.” She stood, reached across Jackson’s desk, and shook his hand. Then she turned toward Meg and enveloped her in a hug. “All your hard work has paid off, dear one. I’m very excited and pleased to put together a new tour option for our clients. I will be in touch soon—take care of that foot of yours!”

  With Marcie gone from Jackson’s office, Meg sat back down and closed her eyes. She willed herself not to drift off to sleep sitting up—how embarrassing would that be?

  “Coffee?”

  Her eyes snapped open. Jackson stood near his credenza, a full pot of coffee by his side. “You look like you could use another cup.”

  “I’ll take it to go.” She stifled a yawn. “I want to draft Marcie’s contract before she changes her mind.”

  He grinned. “Good idea.” Sally’s voice through the intercom interrupted the coffee pouring. “Jackson, Pepper is on line on
e. Are you able to talk?”

  He glanced at Meg. “This should only be a minute.”

  He picked up the phone. “Pepper, it’s Jackson.”

  The unmistakable screech of Pepper’s voice came through the line. Meg did not hear what Jackson’s sister said—not that she cared to know—but she could tell this was no friendly phone call.

  Wearily, Meg stood, sticking a crutch under each arm. She wondered for the umpteenth time if armpits could bruise.

  Jackson scowled and put his hand over the receiver. “Tell you what,” he whispered, “you hobble on down to your office and I will bring it to you.”

  With a nod, she left him to deal with whatever crisis Pepper had conjured up. As an only child, Meg had often wondered what it would have been like to have a sibling to talk to, especially during the years after her father’s death. She knew her mother had tried her best, but there had always been a strange distance between them. Why, she could never quite nail down.

  Liddy sidled up beside here. “Hi, there.”

  “Hey, yourself.”

  “You really should use that wheelchair, you know.”

  Meg sighed. “Might have to. My pits are killing me.”

  “Well, then, that’s it. It’s a chair on wheels for you, missy! And I’ll be the one to push you around.”

  “Ha. As usual.”

  “Oh please. If I had the ability to push you around, you know I would have done so long ago—but you’re too tough for that.”

  “What I am not about to do is allow a prego woman to push me in a wheelchair. I should be the one pushing you. I’m sick of thinking about myself. How are you feeling, anyway?”

  “Great. Still jogging some, though not with the energy I had before.”

  Meg’s heart surged. Her friend had gone through brain surgery the year before, then married her dreamboat, and now was pregnant with their child. Their remarkable year had introduced Meg to the idea that miracles still existed.

  “You amaze me.”

  Liddy followed Meg into her office. “Speaking of amazing, you and Jackson seem to be making quite a team after all.”

  “I think we have an understanding,” Meg said, carefully.

  “Understanding? You mean after the infamous beach chase incident?” Liddy’s voice shook, clearly unable to make eye contact with Meg. “I know it wasn’t his fault that you fell, but he must feel some responsibility … since he was chasing you and all.”

  “Are you laughing?”

  Her friend let loose a peal of laughter. “I’m … I’m so sorry. I hate that you got hurt—hate it!—but I just wish I had seen him running after you in his British-cut suit.”

  Meg sat and rubbed her eyes, stifling back a laugh of her own, though the incident seemed anything but funny to her. “You are such an idiot.”

  Liddy plopped down next to her, still smiling. “Yeah, I know. Let’s blame it on baby brain.”

  “I have to tell you something.”

  Liddy squinted. “What is it?”

  Meg sighed and looked up to the ceiling. “I am only telling you this because I’m sure someone saw it and will be gossiping about it soon.” She flicked a look at Liddy. “Jackson kissed me.”

  “Wait. Are you and he back together? Why did I not see this?”

  She shook her head. “No, no, not at all. It was all … all a mistake. Another dumb misunderstanding. If I could take it back, I would.”

  “When did said kiss happen, exactly?”

  “On the beach. He kissed me when he caught up with me.”

  “Oh!”

  “But he didn’t mean it. It was obvious that it was one of those in-the-moment things. I became so upset with myself that I turned and ran—and that’s when I fell.”

  “Oh, Meg. I’m sorry for laughing. This explains why Jackson’s been so attentive lately.”

  “Attentive … I guess that’s one way to look at it. Has nothing to do with anything between us, though.”

  “Other than a lawsuit,” Liddy said.

  Meg gave her a grim laugh. “Yes, other than that.”

  “Knock, knock.” Jackson entered the room holding a mug of coffee. “I’ve brought you your coffee, Sleeping Beauty.” He handed Meg the cup, his face a mask.

  Liddy slid Meg a questioning look. Meg ignored her.

  “Thanks.” She took a sip. “Everything okay with Pepper?” It had crossed her mind more than once that Pepper’s call may have been a direct result of all the phone calls Meg had made, warning her clients.

  Jackson hesitated. “She was checking in. You know, the usual Pepper.” He was evading her question, but not very well. Something in his tone had changed since she had left his office a short while ago, and he might as well have been speaking to a client. Maybe it had to do with Liddy being in the room.

  He shoved a hand in his pocket, a distracted gaze flitting about the room but landing nowhere.

  Sally stepped into the office. “Oh, you are here,” she said to Jackson. Her eyes flickered onto Meg briefly before looking away. “Pepper asked me to find you. She sent an email over for you to review.”

  “Thank you, Sally. I will get to it later today.” He turned to Meg. “Enjoy that coffee.” Then he slipped out of the room.

  Chapter 6

  “You need to stop meddling, Mom.”

  “If you define meddling as taking care of my only child, then I won’t be complying with that order anytime soon.”

  “For one thing, you drugged me. Isn’t there some law against slipping a mickey in someone’s water glass?”

  “In 1940s gangster movies, maybe. What has gotten into you, Meghan? You have been on edge since the moment you got home. I’m worried about you.”

  “I know you meant well, but I can’t take anything stronger than one pain pill. Don’t you remember that about me?”

  Her mother wrinkled her forehead as if straining to recall this tidbit from her daughter’s childhood. “I don’t remember that. Does it make you sick?”

  Meg shook her head, not relishing the thought of getting into this subject now—not like there was ever a good time to discuss their family’s underbelly. “You know what I mean … Uncle Greg told me once that his addiction to pain pills came about from his accident. I’ve had an aversion to medicine ever since.”

  Her mother’s mouth fell open. “I’ve never heard you say that.”

  Maybe you never listened.

  “You broke a bone in your body. You would rather live with that pain than take something to help you sleep?”

  She wanted to say, If it meant that I could avoid a lifetime of addiction like Uncle Greg, then yes. But she dared not belabor this talk. For as long as Meg could remember, the subject of her mother’s brother and his problem with addiction brought more angst than constructive dialog. She set down her fork. “Bottom line is that you put me in a terrible predicament at work. I was late and tired and unable to think straight for most of the day.”

  “And you think Jackson would have fired you?”

  “Anything is possible.”

  “Oh please! There is not one smidge of possibility of that, for heaven’s sake. William Riley practically worshiped you, and his offspring would not want to dishonor their father by firing the most loyal employee they have ever had!”

  Meg pulled back. “And you know this how?

  Her mother’s eyes widened before her expression quickly collapsed again. She shrugged. “You said it a time or two.”

  “I don’t recall saying much of anything to you about William.”

  Silence.

  Her mother swallowed a bite of chicken. “Well, all I know is that you hurt yourself very badly … just look at that foot of yours. And here you are, working so hard despite that pain. If there was any thought of firing, you could sue.”

  “For what?”

  “Firing a disabled woman!”

  Meg laughed at that. Hard. She considered the look on Pepper’s face if she were to be served a lawsuit like that. Th
e woman’s characteristic screech, the one being served a subpoena would certainly ignite, reverberated in her head, and she laughed some more. Come to think of it, this entire day—waking up to her boss peering at her, her mother in her bathrobe, the muscle relaxer in her bloodstream—all of it melted Meg into a pathetic, laughing mess. She laughed until tears fell, the thought of hyperventilation not far from mind.

  Her mother shot up from the table. “My word, get onto the couch,” she said, attempting to lift her daughter from the dining chair. “You’re delirious.”

  This only brought more laughter. Meg lifted her hands into surrender. “Okay, okay. I’ll get up by myself.” She continued to crack up, her mother holding her by the elbow as if this would offer her support. Still smiling at the ridiculousness of it all, Meg sank onto the couch.

  Her mother sat on the coffee table and examined her, her mouth pursed. Meg noted the lines around her mother’s eyes deepening as she reached out and felt Meg’s forehead with the back of her hand. The simple action hearkened back to when she was a child and calmed her uncontrollable laughter.

  Meg reached up and touched her mother’s hand, the feel of her skin precious. She could not recall the last time she had felt her mother’s touch and the tears returned, this time in a slow drip. She sobered considerably. “Are you happy, Mama?”

  Her mother shut her eyes momentarily then allowed them to flash open again. “Happy as can be.”

  “I know that Uncle Greg’s situation makes it hard on you sometimes.”

  Her mother shook her head like she was dislodging an unwelcome thought. “Oh, don’t you worry about that. He’s just … he’s just confused.”

  “Confused? He has been in and out of rehab or jail most of my life.”

  “Now, I said I don’t want you to worry about that.”

  “Well, I worry about what it is doing to you … what it’s done.”