“Something warm and soothing but that stings at the same time.”
“That’s parental love. I felt it with Jubie right away, even though she was six when she came to us. Once you feel that, it’s all over.”
“I had such a bad childhood.” He paused, swallowing the tremor that had crept into his voice. “What if I can’t do this?”
“You can do it,” Honor said. “It’ll be the hardest and easiest thing you’ve ever done. Trust me.”
He sighed, resigned to his fate. Violet Ellis would have to come to his temporary home and help him with his very permanent daughter. “Call Violet.”
“I’ll call Violet.”
“Just until Nora can find someone else,” he said.
“It’s good timing, actually. Violet’s parents are coming back from South America and want their house back. She doesn’t have a new place, so she’d planned to stay with Kara and Brody. She could stay here with you instead.”
“Why can’t she stay with her parents until she finds a house?”
“Her dad didn’t know she and Dakota were living there. Apparently, he doesn’t approve of her having a baby out of wedlock.”
“Does he think it’s 1952?”
“I guess so.” She dismissed the topic with a jerk of her hand. “Anyway, she’ll have to bring Dakota with her.”
“That’s fine.”
“I’ll make the call.”
Chapter Two
Violet
* * *
VOILET ELLIS’S BLOUSE stuck to her hot, damp skin. She couldn’t find her car keys. Her son’s church preschool closed in exactly four minutes. The teachers chastised parents if they were even thirty seconds late. For Christians, they were not especially forgiving of human failures. Last time she was late, the elderly Mrs. Knight had shaken her knobby finger right in Violet’s face and given a terse lecture about teaching children responsibility through one’s own example.
She never used to be late for anything. Her life used to be in perfect order: five minutes early to appointments, bills paid on time, house neat and orderly, clothes folded into perfect squares. She was a yoga teacher, for heaven’s sake. Sweating on a cool autumn day while madly searching for lost keys did not suit her. But the past few months of failure and humiliation had ripped through the fabric of her very existence. Her calm demeanor had eroded into a hot mess.
She yanked open drawers. This was an exercise in futility if there ever was one. The keys couldn’t have magically jumped into one of them. Even in her current state of dishevelment, she wouldn’t put keys into a drawer in which they didn’t belong. Then, where were they? She dumped the contents of her purse onto the counter. A pack of gum, hairbrush, cell phone, wallet, hair tie, and lipstick tumbled onto the bare counter. Nothing unusual, other than the fact her keys were not in there.
Fighting tears of frustration, she circled the kitchen. A shiny object glistened on the windowsill by the breakfast nook. The keys. How in the name of God had they gotten there? There were no pets to blame and Dakota had been at preschool all morning. She grabbed the keys and ran out the door. Exactly two minutes to get down the hill and to the church by five o’clock. It was a physical impossibility.
Violet’s hands dampened the steering wheel as she turned out of her parents’ driveway and onto the narrow road that headed down the hill. A drop of sweat dribbled between her breasts. She hated this quality about herself—this apologetic and nervous attitude when confronted with authority figures. Who cared if cranky Mrs. Knight was annoyed at her? Violet certainly did enough volunteer work for the preschool and the church to be given a late pass occasionally.
This character flaw explained every single bad decision she’d ever made. When given a choice, she always succumbed to authority. Her father’s hypercritical parenting had made her desperate to please. Not that it mattered. Whatever she did wasn’t good enough for him.
The parking lot of the church was empty. Fantastic, that meant she was the only late parent. How were the other mothers so perfect?
A drizzle dampened her overheated face as she sprinted into the building. Mrs. Knight and Dakota sat outside the classroom on the naughty bench. The children were sent there to think about how to make better choices. Violet thought that was such a stupid expression. Choices. They were preschoolers, not taxpaying adults.
“Hi, Mama.” Dakota grinned and scooted from the bench to run toward her. “I’m in trouble because you’re late.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Knight. I couldn’t find my keys,” Violet said.
Dakota wrapped his arms around her legs and looked up at her.
“Wasn’t that the excuse last week?” Mrs. Knight folded her arms over her abundant chest and pinched her eyelids into narrow slits. Shame. Well played, Mrs. Knight. She would not cry in front of this mean woman. No one could be expected to remain strong under the disappointing gaze of Mrs. Knight, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t fake it until she got out to the car.
“I’m sorry,” Violet said again. “Between closing my shop and moving, I’ve been scattered.”
“Miss Ellis, life will always present challenges. The important thing is to rise to said challenges.”
“Yes, I know. I’m trying.” Violet inwardly cringed at the conciliatory tone of her voice. Allowing this battle-axe to bully her over being a few minutes late was silly. She was so tired. Her defense mechanisms had evaporated under the pressure of the last few weeks. She bit the inside of her lip, trying not to cry.
Dakota, however, didn’t crumble under the hot beams of Mrs. Knights eyes. His protective instincts seemed to kick in when he heard the tremble in his mother’s voice. He crossed his arms over his chest in a perfect mimic of his teacher. “Mama said sorry.”
“Sorry isn’t always enough,” Mrs. Knight said.
“You say sorry to Mama now,” Dakota said. “You were mean.”
“Young man, you will spend the first five minutes of tomorrow on this very bench,” Mrs. Knight said.
“I don’t care,” Dakota said.
Violet almost laughed despite the tears that stung her eyes. She must keep it together or he’d have ten minutes on the naughty bench before they were out of here. “Dakota, we should always be respectful to adults,” Violet said. “Please apologize to Mrs. Knight.”
He looked up at her like she’d just suggested they join the circus. “I won’t. Not until she says sorry to you.”
“Despite his above average intelligence, this is just the kind of rebellious behavior that will keep him from a good college,” Mrs. Knight said.
College? That was a stretch.
“I’ve seen it a hundred times. Brats in preschool turn to drugs and a life of crime.” Mrs. Knight stood, her impressive girth now only inches from them.
Violet stared at her new nemesis, so stunned she couldn’t think of what to say next.
“Tell me you’re sorry.” Mrs. Knight glowered down at Dakota.
He stepped closer to her and stared right back at her. “I will not.”
“Da-Dakota…” Violet stammered.
“That’s it. You’ll spend all day on this bench tomorrow.” Mrs. Knight’s face had turned the color of a cooked beet. Faint white whiskers on her upper lip glistened with perspiration.
“I don’t care,” Dakota said. “I hate it here anyway.”
“You do?” He did? She thought he loved school. When she picked him up, he smiled and bounced like a brightly colored beach ball.
Dakota stepped closer to his mother and took her hand. “Let’s go, Mama. I’ll cheer you up at home.”
“He apologizes to me or he cannot come back to school,” Mrs. Knight said. “This is what happens when a child doesn’t have a father. Born in sin becomes sin.”
“How dare you,” Violet said. “You don’t know anything about our life.”
“I know you have no husband and a very rude little boy,” Mrs. Knight said.
Dakota tugged on her hand. “Let’s go, Mama.”
“Let me tell you something, Mrs. Knight. I’m doing the best I can to raise a person who is kind and generous, like Jesus asks of us. You are not the kind of example I want for my son. He will not be back. Not tomorrow. Not ever. And you can bet your ass I’m going to tell anyone who will listen how utterly terrible you are with children. I’m not sure why someone like you would become a teacher in the first place.” Violet turned away and let her little son lead them down the hallway of the church basement and up the stairs to the main floor.
Rain fell harder now. She tilted her face to the sky and let the drops cool her overheated skin. Dakota continued to squeeze her hand. At the car, he climbed obediently into his car seat and raised his arms so she could buckle him in.
Once settled into the driver’s seat, she turned on her windshield wipers. This was the first earnest rain of the year and these wipers were no match for it. They barely scraped the water from the glass. Her old car might not make it through the winter. Two hundred thousand miles might be its limit. Old Zelda was as tired as she. The only difference was that Violet was twenty-eight and shouldn’t feel two hundred.
She pulled out of the church parking lot and onto the main street. “Mama, you said ass.”
“Dakota Ellis, that’s a bad word.”
She looked at him in the rearview mirror. He nodded, looking earnest and serious. “I know, Mama. That’s why you shouldn’t say it.”
“Okay, but you don’t say it just because I did. You could have just said that I said a bad word and not said the word itself.”
His big blue eyes blinked as he stared back at her. “Okay, Mama. I’m sorry.”
How complex her little guy was. He could quickly apologize to her but not that old battle-axe.
“Do you really hate school?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, you don’t have to go now.” How was she going to get a job if he had no preschool to go to?
She turned the wipers on high speed, which did nothing to influence their competency.
The plan was to live with Kara and Brody Mullen until she could find a place of her own. When you’re the best quarterback in the AFL, houses with several wings come with the territory. Fortunately for her, the Mullens were generous people. Thank God, she could use their home as a temporary residence. There were no places to rent in Cliffside Bay. Not that it mattered if there were any. She didn’t have a job. Plus, there was a mountain of debt from her small business loan. Landlords didn’t rush to rent to people like her.
They passed the empty building where her shop had been. Since she walked into a store back in Boston that sold items made from recyclable or refurbished material, she’d dreamt of opening one of her own. She’d felt sure it would be a hit in Cliffside Bay. She’d been wrong. A purse made from old tires or jewelry twisted from chicken wire—who wouldn’t love that? Apparently, most of the people who walked into her shop. Nothing to do now. It was over, done, finished. Inventory had been returned to vendors. The accounting books were closed. She was officially a failure.
She’d rented her side of the building from the owners of the town’s bookstore. The owners were retiring and had sold the bookstore business and the building to Lance Mullen, Brody’s younger brother. Fortunately, Lance had graciously let her out of her lease with no penalties. Soon, the walls between her shop and the bookstore would be torn down to make way for a bigger space. Lance planned to merge an old-fashioned soda fountain, coffee shop, and bookstore into one space. Mary Hansen, a former librarian, would run the bookstore portion of the business. Lance had offered Violet a job as a clerk when they were ready to open, but that was months away. She needed a job now.
A job for a person with no skills in a small town with few opportunities? It was a tall order. As she often did when thinking about how exactly her life had gone so epically into the dumpster, she blamed her father. If he’d allowed her to attend UC Berkeley instead of demanding she attend a conservative Christian college back east she might have a career in the environmental studies.
You go where I want, or I won’t pay. Off she went with her suitcase and her bible.
Violet was about to turn onto her street when the phone rang. It was Honor. She’d called every morning and afternoon for weeks to check up on her.
“Hey, Honor. I’m fine.”
“Hey girl. So, we have a little situation.”’
“A situation? Is Jubie okay?” Sometimes she asked for parenting advice. Like I know what I’m doing.
“Yeah, she’s great. It’s…Kyle.”
“Kyle? What does that have to do with me?” She despised Kyle Hicks. Loathed. Abhorred. He was nothing but a greedy planet-imploder with no respect for the past or the future. His irresponsible resort had opened just as she closed her shop. If that wasn’t a sick irony, she didn’t know what was.
“Well, there’s a baby here. Kyle’s baby. We don’t know how to take care of her.”
“A baby?”
“He didn’t know about her until today. She was kind of left on the doorstep, so to speak.”
“Could the guy be any more of a cliché? What did he do, just get some girl pregnant and take off?”
“Not exactly like that. Yes, on the pregnant part. But he didn’t know she was pregnant. It was more of a one-night type of thing.”
Reckless, careless, immature Kyle Hicks.
“Where’s the baby’s mother?” Violet asked.
“She died from complications of childbirth.”
“That’s awful,” Violet said.
“The baby—Mollie Blue—she’s only a week old and there was only one bottle of formula and she already ate that and now we don’t know what to do. We need you.”
Mollie Blue. What a sweet name. A little girl. In Kyle Hicks’ hands? The poor child didn’t have a chance.
“I’ll come, but only for the baby. Make sure you tell Kyle that it’s not for him.”
“Trust me, he knows that already.”
“Where are you guys?” Violet asked, turning the car in the other direction.
“The penthouse suite at the resort,” Honor said.
“Of course he’s in the penthouse suite.” He disgusts me. “I’ll be right there, but I have Dakota with me.”
“Totally fine. And thanks. I realize he isn’t your first choice of someone to help.”
“He’s not even my last choice,” Violet said.
Violet hadn’t stepped inside of the Cliffside Bay Resort and Spa until today. She’d spent plenty of time on the outside while they were building this blight on the land. With a picket sign in her hand. Little good it did. Kyle Hicks just went right on with his plans to clear acres of trees and meadows. For what? To build a resort in what should have remained an isolated and pristine area of the world. His sole purpose was money.
She had to admit the lobby was beautiful. Breathtaking, even. The room seemed like something from the past, a more elegant and sophisticated time where women wore gowns to dinner and men still opened doors. White marble floors, a fountain, and a sweeping stairway that led to a glittering restaurant on the second floor reminded her of something out of The Great Gatsby. She half expected Daisy to come down the stairs with a long cigarette hanging from her mouth.
She instructed Dakota to hold onto her hand. “No running or shouting in here. You got it?”
“Yes, Mama.”
They crossed the lobby. As they passed the fountain, Dakota’s gait slowed. She knew he wanted to put his grubby fingers in the spray. This could not happen. There would not be a second accusation of poor mothering skills today. Once was quite enough.
“Dakota, no touching.”
“I know, Mama.”
She spotted the concierge desk near the glass doors that opened to a terrace. Was that Joan Adams at the desk? It was. What was she doing working for the enemy? Joan Adams had lived in Cliffside Bay all her life and had once worked at the feed store, which was currently being torn down to make way for Zane Shaw’s new
brewery. Sadly, no one needed farm and garden supplies. Beer, however, was popular with both tourists and townspeople. Yet another business morphing their secret town into a tourist destination.
Mrs. Adams looked up from her computer screen. “Good afternoon, Miss Ellis. Welcome to Cliffside Bay Resort and Spa.” She slid a keycard across the shiny surface of the desk. “Mr. Hicks is expecting you. You’ll need the keycard to access the top floor.”
“How have you been, Mrs. Adams? I didn’t know you were working here.”
“Yes, Miss Ellis. I was one of the first employees. It’s a pleasure to serve you.” Mrs. Adams sounded like a polite robot. What had Kyle done to her?
“Why are you talking so weird?” Violet whispered.
She lowered her voice. “Our manager likes us to speak formally, even if we know the guests. Stellar customer service begins and ends with precision and attention to detail.”
“You used to sneak me a candy every time my dad took me to the feed store. Formality is a little ridiculous.”
“Please let me know if I can be of further assistance.” Mrs. Adams’ mouth stretched into a smile, but her eyes were pleading with Violet to let it go.
Letting go wasn’t Violet’s strongest attribute.
“How could you sell out like this?” Violet asked.
“Sell out?”
“This place is like the devil moving into town.”
“That’s a bit of an overstatement,” Mrs. Adams said.
“You’ve lived here all your life. How could you agree to work for a business that…that poor excuse for a man Kyle Hicks tore down the forest for?”
“Kyle Hicks is a wonderful man. Smart and fair.” She lowered her voice again. “And he’s quite handsome. If I was a young woman, I wouldn’t hesitate to flirt my way into his heart.”
Violet stared at her, horrified. What was wrong with this world? “He’s a money-grubbing pig.”
There was a brief pause as Mrs. Adams looked at her hands. When she looked up, her voice had dropped to just above a whisper. “This resort—Kyle Hicks—brought over a hundred jobs to this town. I don’t know if you’ve noticed from your parents’ enormous home where you live for free and dabble in your little store, but we need these jobs. I need this job. My husband’s not well enough. I’m an old lady. No one wants to hire me. But Kyle Hicks did. He and Mr. Kauffman, our manager, said no training was necessary. They would teach me everything I needed to know. I won’t hear one bad word out of your mouth about him, young lady.”
Marred Page 3
