Newport Beginnings
Cindy Nichols
Prickly Pear Press
Copyright © 2020 by Cindy Nichols
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Epilogue
One
The light over Newport Harbor changed slowly, from pink and yellow to almost dark purple and the stars began to twinkle. The warm, California breeze tickled Jen's neck, and she wanted just another moment out on the deck before she went back inside.
When she'd arrived at her family's beach house before Memorial Day, she'd never in a million years thought it was going to be such a challenge to talk her family out of selling it. It had been a close call—they'd had buyers who'd wanted to tear it down—but she and her best friends, Faith and Carrie, had managed to convince her brother that it needed to stay in the family.
And the last few weeks had been spent putting together the lovely fundraiser for the children's wing of the local hospital that she was attending now.
In the fading light, she looked over at her friend, Joe. Before this summer, she hadn't seen him in twenty years. But it was as if he'd never left, that she'd never married, been widowed and raised two boys on her own. Right now, in the soft breeze, there was only now.
It was Jen's favorite time of day, even more than sunrise. She hated to leave it, but Joe nudged her, taking her out of her reverie.
"I think we'd better go back inside, don't you? I'm anxious to see what the bids are for my dad's Disney figurines. We worked so hard getting them together. I’m hoping that they fetch a good price for the hospital."
Jen sighed and looped her arm through his when he offered. She felt his warmth through his suit, and it was comforting. So far, the fundraiser had gone without a hitch and she, too, was interested to see what the figurines were going for.
Inside the beautifully decorated ballroom, Jen leaned over the white linen-covered table and squinted. She reached up to grab her glasses from on top of her head, but they weren't there.
"Your glasses are on the table, but I can tell you there are more digits than I imagined there would be."
Jen looked up at Joe. His dark-brown eyes danced with glee as he pointed his thumb toward the figurines they'd spent days cataloguing and cleaning from his late father's Disney collection.
"I guess it was all worth it. It's truly amazing. Very generous of you and your mother to donate to the fundraiser."
Joe shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets, but not before he gave a thumbs-up to his mother. She clapped and waved back, a smile from ear to ear.
"This is what Ma wanted. And what my dad would have wanted, too. The children's wing at the hospital was a favorite charity of theirs. All is right with the world, it seems."
Jen sighed. Moments earlier, she'd watched the Labor Day sun set over the Newport Harbor, its light dancing on the rippling water, and wondered how she'd gotten so lucky. Although she'd spent the entire summer at her family's beach house, it had been mere weeks that they hadn't had to worry about it being sold from under them.
She'd barely had a chance to get over the surprise and settle in, and now here she was at a ritzy fundraiser where they'd raised millions for the children of her new hometown.
New hometown? Where had that thought come from? She had a house inland, where she'd raised the two boys after her husband had died suddenly, decades ago. Three months ago, it had been the only true home she'd ever known as an adult and had no intention of leaving it. But somehow over the summer, through spectacular sunrises, daily walks on the beach and sunset gatherings with family and friends, it seemed that things had changed forever.
With all the commotion about the fundraiser—her friend Carrie was in charge but had enlisted Jen and Faith for donations for the silent auction—she hadn't told either of them what she'd decided.
She looked around the room again, wondering how her decision would change things. Carrie lived full time at the beach, her dental practice a fixture on the boulevard. Joe had told her only moments ago that he'd be staying in Newport and selling his accounting practice in Chicago, and that he and his mother had agreed to keep their gondola business going. But Faith would be leaving shortly, back inland to take up her teaching position, and things would change forever.
She'd tell them all tomorrow morning on their beach walk, she decided. Things were going so well with the fundraiser, she didn't want to take the focus off of Carrie and Dirk's great success.
"Things really couldn't have gone any more smoothly, it seems," Joe said.
Jen smiled up at him, having had the same thought, and he squeezed her elbow.
"Uh-oh. Maybe I spoke too soon."
Jen followed his gaze to the corner of the ballroom. Darn, where were her glasses? She had to squint to see what he was nodding toward, and it took a second for her gaze to clear.
"Oh," Jen said slowly, her heart sinking.
Joe nodded. "I haven't seen Carrie's mom in probably twenty years. She looks the same. And they look the same."
Jen knew exactly what Joe meant. Carrie's mom was lovely, and tonight for the fundraiser she'd asked Carrie to organize, she'd pulled out all the stops. Her black hair was pulled up into a chignon with a diamond pin placed perfectly. Her drop diamond earrings sparkled in the low chandelier light, and her sequined silver evening gown swooshed over her slender figure as she shook her head at Carrie.
"Carrie looks like she's holding her own. Just like she always has."
Jen wasn't so sure about that. Her dear, lifelong friend looked as if she was having a little difficulty holding her tongue—a skill she'd honed over a lifetime of listening to her mother complain. About anything and everything.
Carrie had become quite immune to it all, much to her credit, and usually shrugged it off pretty well. But there was something about her expression now that niggled at Jen and made her think that maybe it wasn't as easy as it usually was for her friend to let things roll off her back.
"Think we should go over and interrupt?" Joe asked, running his hands through his hair. "You know, like we did when we were kids?"
Jen grinned. "That was a little different. Back then, we were just trying to sneak out of the house to go to the Fun Zone or cover for Carrie when she wanted to go sailing. I think the stakes might be a little higher at the moment."
"Hm, I thought the stakes were pretty high back then." Joe laughed when Jen nudged her elbow into his ribs and rolled her eyes.
They'd all been such good friends then, running around Newport like they didn't have a care in the world
. And they didn't, back then. But a lot had happened between then and now.
"Carrie's mom sure is on a roll," Faith said when Jen and Joe got back to their table. Her eyes were big and her eyebrows raised as she clearly tried not to stare.
"That woman," Joe's mother, Mrs. Russo, said, plonking her Chianti on the table. "She's a piece of work, that one. Always has been."
When Joe, Carrie, Jen and Jen's late husband Allen were gallivanting across the beaches and harbor eating frozen, chocolate covered bananas and nursing their sunburns, the older generation had had their own interactions. And not all of them good.
“This is just the best fundraiser ever, if I do say so myself," Dirk Crabtree said as he sat down at the table, all smiles. He picked up his cocktail and held it up to the others, and it seemed to take him a moment to notice that nobody was joining him in the gesture.
Jen pointed to the corner of the ballroom, and he turned and looked over, shook his head and set down his glass. "Excuse me a moment. It appears that my fundraiser co-chair could use a bit of cavalry."
Jen watched as Dirk crossed the ballroom. “That’s really nice of him. When we met him, remember thinking he was the typical Mr. Newport? Silk tie, fancy car, picture on bus benches? Maybe there’s more to him than it seems.”
Faith nodded. “Maybe. What do you think's going on?" Faith asked. Both Mrs. Russo and Jen shook their heads.
"No telling. It's always something, though. That poor girl," Mrs. Russo said. "Could be earth-shattering to her mom, like she doesn't like the flowers on the tables. Could be as simple as she doesn't like Carrie's dress. But from the looks of it, she's not complimenting Carrie on a job well done."
"Ingrate," Mrs. Russo said under her breath. "This fundraiser wouldn't even be happening if Carrie hadn't agreed to coordinate it for her mother."
"Ma," Joe admonished, holding a finger to his lips.
"Don't you shush me, Joey. You know I tell the truth."
"Well, can you tell the truth a little quieter?" Joe closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.
Jen laughed, grateful that other people saw Carrie's mother the way she did. Never satisfied, and constantly meddling. It was a wonder that Carrie even spoke to her at all.
Jen watched as Dirk seemed to smooth things over. Carrie even smiled at him with an unmistakable look of gratitude and relief. Dirk nodded at Mrs. Westland. He held out his arm for Carrie, who gratefully took it, and brought her back to their table.
Carrie sat down with an audible "oof,” leaned her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands.
"Care for anything from the bar?" Dirk asked.
"Yes, please. I'll have one of everything," Carrie said with a groan.
"What the heck was that about?" Faith asked.
Carrie took a deep breath. "You won't believe me if I tell you."
Mrs. Russo smiled warmly. "I hope it wasn't about your dress. I think it's beautiful. Perfect. Your mother is always dressed over the top anyway."
"Ma—"
Mrs. Russo shot a look at her son but did stop talking.
Carrie glanced down, and Jen was positive that it wasn't about the dress. Carrie looked as if she didn't even remember what dress she was wearing. No, it was something more.
"You okay?" Jen asked quietly as she scooted her chair closer to Carrie's.
"I don't know. I hope so."
"What's going on?" Jen asked, frowning. She couldn't imagine what would be worth arguing about at such a successful event. Carrie and Dirk had worked hard on this fundraiser, just as Mrs. Westland had asked, and it had turned out wonderfully.
"My mother chose until now to inform me that she'd extended a few extra invitations. Without letting us know."
Jen glanced around the room, taking in the fancy suits, tuxedos, evening gowns and diamonds. She couldn't even guess who wasn't there, as she hadn't really hobnobbed much with this crowd. All the Newport Beach elite seemed to be here, famous and non-famous. But as she looked around and reached into her memory, her stomach tightened. It hadn't even occurred to her that one of Newport's most famous residents was missing, because of course he wouldn't be welcome here. They wouldn't be welcome here. It would be unkind to Carrie. But knowing Carrie's mother, it just might be something she'd do.
The thought was so awful, she could barely form it into words. "Don't tell me she invited Rob. And Cassidy."
Carrie looked at Jen and then over at the door as a crowd started to gather and people turned in that direction. People began to twitter and crane their necks to see who had entered, and as the doors began to close, Jen spotted a familiar Maserati parked right out front, the attendants gushing over it.
Carrie closed her eyes and nodded slowly. "Yep. She did."
Two
The pained expression on Jen's face matched how Carrie felt at the sight of her ex-husband and the bimbo he'd left her for. Granted, it had been quite a while ago and most of the shock had worn off, but she also hadn't seen him but a few times since, and that had made it a little bit easier. Sort of.
The response of the crowd did rub things in a little bit. While she wasn't remotely interested in seeing him, apparently all the people at the fundraiser were. And he always did know how to make an entrance—especially since his wife, Cassidy, loved that kind of thing and was sort of a celebrity in her own right. If you could call it that.
She'd tried to ignore how famous he was as things had gotten progressively difficult and personal. She'd almost forgotten what it felt like to be on the cover of all the tabloids during that time and still made a point of not looking at them when she was in line at the grocery store.
Carrie tried not to look as the crowd buzzed, and she silently thanked Faith for continuing to keep their table in light conversation, pretending that there was no commotion. But soon, she couldn't ignore it any longer.
"Oh no," Jen said, her eyes wide. She was doing her best not to look at the ballroom door, but she was facing that direction and really couldn't help it. "They brought Bethany."
Carrie's heart froze in her chest for a moment, and she couldn't catch her breath. Bethany? He wouldn't have done that. Couldn't have. They'd argued endlessly about dragging her to these kinds of events—Carrie thought it wasn't fair to Bethany, but Rob thought she needed to learn how to mingle. It appeared that Cassidy shared Rob's feelings about what kind of "education" Bethany needed, but Carrie's heart went out to the teenager. Carrie knew how much she hated these things.
She turned slowly in her chair and caught a glimpse of a young girl, dressed to the nines, her long blonde hair falling around her shoulders. Her blue chiffon evening gown was beautiful—and clearly very expensive—but she was terribly thin and one strap had slipped off her shoulder. She was so pretty, as she always had been, but Carrie couldn't help but notice that she looked miserable. Especially when her stepmother gave her a look and slipped her strap back up on her shoulder.
Bethany. Carrie hadn't seen her in several years, and she was a sight for sore eyes. She'd missed her terribly.
"You okay?" Jen asked, resting her hand on Carrie's.
Carrie nodded, and they both watched as Carrie's mother rushed over to greet the three new arrivals, truly in her glory as the crowd parted for her. She shooed the crowd away and led them to a waiting table, already set with champagne flutes and a very expensive bottle of bubbly. As they walked through the room, Cassidy smiled and nodded to people, almost as if she were royalty, and Bethany trailed behind.
"What are you going to do?" Jen asked as the famous couple took their seats.
"I don't know. I'd like to wiggle my nose and be home in my sweats, honestly. Can I?"
Faith laughed. "You can try. I've been trying for years but haven't mastered it yet. Let me know if you get it."
"I guess I need a plan B, then. Could I sneak out the back door?" Carrie stole a glance over at her ex. She didn't want to, but she couldn't help herself. As much as she wanted to disappear, she had a hard time taking
her eyes off of Bethany, and as she looked at the table, Bethany caught her eye.
The pain in her heart took her by surprise. She'd thought she'd buried all of that long ago, given up when Rob wouldn't let her see Bethany anymore. But now that she was here, in the room, all she wanted to do was hug her. It didn't matter one whit that when she last saw her, Bethany had been only twelve. She'd only been allowed to speak to her on the phone since then, and while she'd made a point of calling regularly in the beginning, Bethany had gotten involved in school and sports, and the calls had dwindled over the years.
Carrie's hand flew to her chest as she watched Cassidy shrug off her mink stole—mink! On Labor Day!—and shove it and her clutch toward Bethany. She thought maybe Bethany rolled her eyes before she went to take it to the cloakroom, but she couldn't be sure.
Now that she was so close, Carrie wanted to talk to her—badly. To see how she was. To see why she was so miserable. To see if she could help. She'd always gotten the impression that Bethany would change things if she could, but she had no idea what she was feeling now. Judging from the look on her face, not much had changed.
"I have no interest in talking to Rob or that bimbo. I'd love to see Bethany, though. It's been a long time. I miss her," Jen said, glancing back at the table.
"Me too," Carrie said quietly.
"Oh gosh, I'm sorry, Carrie. I didn't mean to...I meant to say..."
Carrie shook her head to stop Jen. They all knew what Bethany had meant to her, and they all knew how completely her heart had broken when it had become clear that Rob was not going to let her continue her relationship with her stepdaughter. Jen had meant no harm.
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