She nodded, grateful not to be talking about anything more…intimate. “I pick up discarded toys at thrift and charity stores, but I also do professional restoration. I’ve worked for high end auction houses and businesses that have antiques that need work. It can be a detailed and slow process, especially with the dolls from the late eighteen hundreds. If I didn’t move around as much as I did I’d be able to take on more, but that’s not in the cards.”
“Why not?” As he was finished washing, he leaned against the sink and crossed his arms. The muscles in his biceps strained against the fabric of his shirt and set her pulse to racing in a way no medication could ever slow. “If there’s nothing stopping you from moving on, there’s nothing stopping you from staying.”
“Staying means permanent and I don’t do permanent.” So much for this being a safe topic.
“But you could. If you wanted to. If the circumstances were right.”
“There are no right circumstances.”
He gently pried the plate out of her tense grip. “You’ve dried that plate to death. Stop avoiding my question and tell me why.”
“Why what?”
“Why keep moving? Why not settle down? Open your own store? A doll store. How amazing would that be?”
“It would be amazing,” she whispered. “That was my grandfather’s dream, actually. He’d just signed a lease when he got sick.” Now the idea of her signing anything resembling permanence was enough to emotionally paralyze her. “Some dreams aren’t meant to be.”
“This coming from the woman who only this morning was lecturing me about living in the moment.”
“Hypocrites come in all shapes and sizes.” She’d put the dreams of a storefront aside the same day she’d buried her grandfather. Staying in one place too long only temped fate. If she kept moving, kept living, maybe she could outrun her family’s legacy for a bit longer. “What works for me doesn’t have to work for you, Flynn. But I stand by what I said. Living your life tied to machines, tied to work, instead of to people? That’s not really living is it?”
“It’s living about as much as a woman who hides in her house playing with dolls.” But there was an expression of understanding on his face as he spoke. “Can I see some of your finished work?”
“What?” Sabrina set the plate in the cabinet and shut it. “Seriously? You don’t even like dolls.”
“How do you know that?” His eyes widened as if she’d caught him in a lie.
“Because I saw you looking at them earlier. They creep you out.”
“No, what my sister is capable of doing to dolls creeps me out. Don’t ask.” He chuckled and the sound lightened her heart. “I’m willing to face my fear given the right motivation. Besides, you know what I do. I want to see what you do.”
“Does that mean you’ll show me your private contract template?”
He moved in and pulled her toward him. “You can see anything of mine that you want, Sabrina Benoit.”
Before she could think, he’d kissed her again. In that soul-reaching, heart-scorching way he had that reminded her, no matter how much the idea terrified her, that she was still, very much alive.
She curled her fingers into his shirt and held on, pulling away after a moment for fear he’d taste the tears on her lips and only open herself up to more questions. “Why don’t you get the cupcakes, City Boy. I’ll get my album.”
Chapter Six
“Get everything done that you needed to?” Trevor asked Flynn the following Tuesday—the one day a week they closed the restaurant—when he walked into the kitchen to refill his coffee for the third time. His dad had taken their mom and the kids out for the day; nothing like letting a six and almost five-year old push a wheelchair around. Flynn had taken advantage of the down time to catch up on things at the office, including an optimistic Skype conversation with Jocelyn and Kirk.
What he hadn’t expected, when he’d let his nosy nature take over, was what else he found on his brother’s computer. Something that had him rethinking everything he’d ever said to his brother. “Yeah, thanks for letting me use your desk.”
“No problem. Dad said you’re about to sign some big company as a client.” Trevor shifted his stack of paperwork to clear space on the kitchen table. “Moving into the big time, huh?”
“Looks that way.” Flynn found himself looking for a sign of Sabrina at the guest house. Over the past few days he’d made up every excuse possible to see her, spend time with her, even if for only a few minutes. Thoughts of her had taken up permanent residence in his brain, always in the forefront, pushing everything else aside. He liked being with her; talking with her. Laughing with her.
She could make him smile with the merest glance and make him laugh at himself. He’d managed to get her out of the house for a surprise trip to The Sweet and Savory for that coffee drink she loved so much. The outing had resulted in him meeting a number of St. Helena residents including Lexi DeLuca and Pricilla Moreau along with their cavalcade of customers, most of whom had uttered words of praise about Beatha and how excited they were to have to a new family style restaurant in town.
As much as he loved New York, as easily as he’d acclimated to the chaotic, frenetic city lifestyle, he was growing more and more apprehensive about leaving St. Helena behind.
Admit it. It isn’t just this town you’ll miss. You don’t want to leave Sabrina behind.
“How long do you think you’ll be living in Japan?”
“What?” Flynn took a seat across from his brother at the same kitchen table they’d grown up with. He looked down at the familiar scratches, ran his fingers along the bottom of the tabletop and felt where he and Quaid had notched tally marks for how many high school girlfriends they’d had. Even though the house was different and the daily routine had changed, it felt good to be home.
“Japan,” Trevor repeated slowly as he shuffled a stack of invoices. “How long do you think you’ll stay there?”
“To be determined.” He’d been less than excited about the prospect even before he’d taken a break. Now? He was trying to figure out a way—any way—to convince Kirk that he was the one who should take lead on the project. He leaned back in his chair, watched as Trevor crunched numbers on his calculator like a demon possessed. “You got your degree.”
“Huh?” Trevor’s head shot up.
“I was just on your computer, Trev. I saw the text books on your desk. You got your business degree and you’re half-way through a second one in hotel and restaurant management.”
Trevor’s mouth twisted. “I knew I should have password protected my files.” His tossed his pencil on the table and crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, come on. Let’s have it.”
“Have what?” Flynn asked.
“The comments; the criticism. How it was only an online university and doesn’t really count. Or how it took me long enough or how much did I cost Mom and Dad when I finally decided to make something of my life?”
Finally, they were going to do this. “I wasn’t that hard on you, Trevor.” Trevor only stared at him, jaw set, eyes hard, much like they’d been that first night Flynn had seen him serving in the restaurant. “Have I? Jesus, Trevor. I’m your big brother. Pushing you was, is, part of my job.”
“So Quaid did the same thing with you? Found fault with every decision you ever made? Made fun of your jobs. Your paycheck? Insinuated I was less than because I wasn’t as focused as you?”
Flynn wanted to argue with him, to protest by saying he was only trying to get him on track. It was what he did; he thrived on making people’s lives run more smoothly, by removing obstacles standing in their way, even when that obstacle was themselves. Yet when it came to his family, they hadn’t wanted his help; had even resented it. That was why he’d moved; why he’d stayed away. They didn’t need him.
They’d all but said so when they’d gotten so angry at him for trying to smooth over Trevor’s drunken night out with friends that resulted in him getting picked up on a
drunk and disorderly. He’d gotten an earful from his parents, who had taken serious exception to Flynn’s interference.
“Do you have any idea what it’s like living your entire life knowing the brother you look up to thinks you’re a failure?” Trevor asked. “To feel as if whenever he looks at you he’s trying to figure out how to fix what he thinks is wrong?”
Flynn’s gut twisted. “Why didn’t you ever say anything? Tell me to back off?”
“I did,” Trevor snapped. “At least I tried, but you didn’t want to listen. You never heard me, Flynn. Even if I was screaming at the top of my lungs. You never heard me.” Trevor shrugged, some of the fight going out of his eyes. “You know what the best day of my life was? The day you moved to New York. Because while I knew I was probably disappointing Mom and Dad, at least they never rubbed my nose in it. They still accepted me for who I am. Not who they wished I was.” His cell phone rang. He glanced down at the screen. “That’s a distributor from Napa I’ve been waiting to hear from. I need to take this.” Without waiting for Flynn to respond, he grabbed his phone and walked out the back door.
Flynn pushed his coffee to the side, rubbed a tired hand across the back of his neck. He sighed. Everything he’d ever said to Trevor was meant as a verbal kick, good natured-ribbing between brothers. At least on his end. No wonder Trevor hadn’t been happy to see him. He’d been waiting for Flynn to lob verbal grenades of disappointment in his direction.
Somehow in his effort to push his brother, he’d ended up making him feel as if he were traversing a daily land mine of criticism.
Flynn reached for the laptop his brother and parents used for Beatha. He saved the document Trevor had been working on and pulled up the business spreadsheets. A few minutes later, he’d fallen down the rabbit hole of the family enterprise, and into a world of truth he’d spent a lifetime turning a blind eye on.
~*~
“You look like you could use a drink.”
Flynn opened his eyes against the late afternoon sun and found Sabrina standing in front of him, one of her glasses of blended grass and weeds in his face. “Is there a beer hidden in the depths of that yard gunk?”
He shifted in the old rocking chair he’d dragged off the back porch and accepted the offering. How was it she always looked so radiant, even with paint splotches on her hands and cheek? The bright pink shirt made her cheeks glow and the snug jeans she wore were made even sexier by her bare feet.
“No beer.” The smile he’d come to rely on appeared. “And I think you’ll like this one. It has a spicy ginger kick to it. Good for your metabolism.” She sank down and stretched out. The ends of her hair brushed against the top of the overgrown grass.
“If you say so.” He steeled his courage, examined the thick liquid and, with a deep breath, took a long drink. “Huh.” Flynn nodded. “Either my taste buds have gotten used to being under assault or I’m starting to like this stuff. Beer would help though.” He managed a weak laugh. “Just saying. I thought you were avoiding me.”
“I am. I was.” Sabrina arched her back and tilted her chin to the sun. “But I can’t stand by when someone I like is hurting. I could feel the vibes rolling through the guest house. What’s going on?”
He drank more because it was easier than admitting he’d hurt his brother. Then again, maybe Sabrina was the right person to talk about this with. She did have a way of cutting through the crap. “How big of an ass was I when we first met?”
“At the hospital?” Her smile widened. “Not at all. I thought you were cute. Befuddled. Clumsy. Talented, too. It’s not everyone who can catch a toddler trying out for the races.”
“I have always been an overachiever. What about at Beatha?”
“You mean where you called me an interloper and all but accused me of trying to kill your mother?”
“Yeah.” He choked down another swallow. She definitely knew how to cut to the chase. “Then.”
“Judgmental, a bit arrogant, definitely a know-it-all even though you didn’t have all the information you needed at your disposal to make an informed decision.”
“And here I was afraid you might tell me the truth.” Could he drown himself in a glass?
“You lead a complicated life, Flynn. I don’t think anyone can blame you for it. You like your world in a particular kind of order. And if you see things out of order, you want to fix them.” She sat up, scooted forward and placed her hands on his knees. “But expecting everyone to fit into your world isn’t fair. No matter how much you might want or need to, you can’t fix everyone and everything. Some things simply aren’t fixable.”
And that’s what he’d done—however unintentionally—with Trevor. He’d tried to mold him into something he wasn’t. Something he didn’t need to be.
“Tell me what happened. What’s got you so upset you’re sitting out here all alone on this beautiful day?”
“Turns out my brother’s not a loser at all. In fact, he’s a freaking genius.” Flynn didn’t have any other words to describe what he’d discovered examining the books, emails, and business plans. “All this time I thought he didn’t care about anything; that he was content to slide by in life, mooch off my parents, and just exist. I was wrong.”
“How so?”
“All the money my parents gave him to go to college? I thought he blew it on stupid stuff, like going off to Europe for a couple of weeks with his buddies. I was wrong. Turns out he invested it. I thought he was lazy and unfocused, but all the time he was working those stupid part time jobs he quadrupled his investment. He gave half of that money to my parents for the down payment on the restaurant. Cut their monthly payments in half. He used the rest to finance his online college education.” Trevor was right. Flynn had only seen what he wanted to; what he expected to. It was only this afternoon, after he’d talked to Trevor, listened to Trevor, that he understood. That and taking a good long look at his brother’s computer.
“Sounds like you aren’t the only fixer in the family.”
“He thinks I didn’t see him. The real him. I only saw a problem that needed fixing.” He shook his head, still unable to wrap his mind around everything he’d discovered. “He was right. I’m not proud of it, but I dug around in his computer to put the pieces together.”
“Clearly I need to add sneaky to your list of attributes. What is all this telling you, Flynn?”
“That’s just it. I can’t figure it out. I don’t know where I fit. If everything I’ve thought about Trevor is wrong, what else am I wrong about? Quaid’s the oldest, he’s the dependable one, the honorable one. Nissa’s the artist, but she’ll fight to the death to protect any of us. Trevor is—was—the screw up. I’m—” He looked at her, if for no other reason than she evoked a peacefulness in him that he never knew he needed. She listened to him; urged him to open up, something he wasn’t inclined to do to anyone. “I was the one who held everything together. Or I thought I was. Instead, I was the one who nearly ripped the family apart.”
“It’s hard to hold things together from across the country. True, you shouldn’t have let it go on this long, but you’re here now. You’re back. And you’re doing right by all of them.” She added as if she sensed she’d hit a nerve.
Moving to New York had been an escape for him. But he didn’t regret it; not with the way his business had gone. And yet, that aspect of his life felt less and less fulfilling. Now he understood why. All this time he thought he’d stayed away because he wasn’t needed when, in fact, he was the one who needed his family.
“You have to live your life,” Sabrina continued. “But you need to live it on your terms. That means needing to let everyone else live theirs. Speaking of.” She took a deep breath and let it out with a soft sigh. Her fingers squeezed his knees as if she were gathering courage. “I finished the last of ChiChi’s dolls this afternoon. They’re all packed up and ready to go. And so am I.”
“What do you mean? You’re leaving?” Panic surged inside him. His skin went cold as his hea
rt pounded. He set the glass down and took hold of her hands. “When?”
“A couple of days. It’ll take some time to settle things, get the house in order and such. But it’s time to go.”
He couldn’t tell if she wanted him to protest or not. Would anything he said make a difference? “Do you know where you’re going?”
“Nope.” She smiled, but for the first time since he’d met her, he didn’t buy into the façade. The glimmer of optimism didn’t shine. If anything, he caught a hint of sadness behind those beautiful eyes of hers. She looked tired, as if she hadn’t been sleeping well. He knew the feeling.
“That’s part of the adventure of life, right?” she continued. “Not knowing what’s coming at us?” She shifted to her knees and slipped her hands free so she could touch his face. “I’ll miss you, Flynn.” She leaned forward and pressed her lips against his. “I thought about leaving without saying goodbye, but I don’t think my heart could have taken that. I’ll talk to your parents tonight or tomorrow. Whenever they have time.”
He squeezed his hand around hers. “Don’t go.”
“I have to,” she whispered. “I told you before, Flynn. I’m not a forever girl. I never can be.”
“Can you be a today girl?” He hung on as long as he could, let himself be pulled to his feet as she stood.
“Flynn…”
“It’s not that late.” He looked up at the sky. “You’re done working and I’ve got the rest of the day to myself. Let’s go out. Just the two of us. Maybe watch the sunset?”
“A fast moving city boy like you wants to watch the sun set?”
“Maybe I’m not as much a city boy as I thought.” Maybe he wasn’t a lot of things anymore. He couldn’t let her walk away; not yet.
“It won’t do any good, Flynn. I’m leaving. Spending more time together is only going to make this more difficult.”
“Maybe.” But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to do everything in his power to get her to change her mind. She belonged here, in St. Helena. With his family. With the friends she’d made. With…him.
Straight To His Heart Page 7
